Author: Devon C. Ford
Date: 2020-05-05 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Post Apocalyptic; Aliens; Dystopia; Apocalyptic
Description: THE MISSION FAILED BUT HOPE IS NOT LOST. . . The Reclaimer's attack on the Gateway didn't go as planned, but a dying man's words sparked a revolution. Alec receives a message from the Barony, a group in the UK, letting them know they have allies around the world. Dex is still on the other side of the Occupation, but he knows he'll have to make a move soon. Lina and Monet are sent on a mission to Shanghai to stop the production of a device keeping the aliens alive in our atmosphere. Cole and Soares head out with a one way-ticket through a Gateway, in an attempt to permanently close them. 'RECLA

RECLAMATION

©2020 NATHAN HYSTAD & DEVON C. FORD

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Contents

ALSO IN SERIES

Prologue

1. Alec

2. Cole

3. Dex

4. Alec

5. Cole

6. Fan

7. Lina

8. Alec

9. Cole

10. Lina

11. Alec

12. Sylvie

13. Cole

14. Alec

15. Cole

16. Lina

17. Jack

18. Sw-18

19. Cole

20. Dex

21. Zhao

22. Dex

23. Cole

24. Alec

25. Cole

26. Dex

27. Cole

28. Alec

29. Sw-18

30. Alec

31. Cole

32. Jack

33. Lina

34. Cole

35. Alec

36. Lina

37. Cole

38. Alec

39. Cole

40. Dex

41. Alec

FROM THE PUBLISHER

About Nathan

About Devon

ALSO IN SERIES

OCCUPATION

SALVATION

You’re reading: RECLAMATION

Prologue

Sylvie

The wind rustled Sylvie’s hair into her eyes as she strolled across the narrow road. She carefully stepped over the chunks of rubble where small trees grew from the cracks in the faded black lane.

It was going to be a hot one, but that wasn’t uncommon in the South of France, and judging by the looming dark clouds, a storm was about to accompany the heat. A finch casually sang on a branch stretching from an immense poplar tree, and she glanced at the bird, smiling at its tune.

Everywhere Sylvie turned, nature was taking over the Earth. It was almost poetic justice. She was too young to recall much of the old world, but she’d seen enough to know that perhaps this was better.

Her pack’s strap rubbed against her shoulder and she shifted the weight to the other side as she entered the forest. She’d found some useful supplies this time. Once a month, she traveled alone to scour distant villages, and this week had been fruitful.

She used to go out with a partner, and her thoughts drifted to the man, his piercing blue eyes, the strong wide shoulders. She blinked away the memory, as it would inevitably bring her into a cycle of despair. He’d been dead for three years and it was time to forget him. The robot’s bullets had ended his life, along with her dreams of a future.

A twig snapped, and she dropped her pack silently, bringing her rifle up with practiced efficiency. She moved from side to side, never lowering the scope from her eye, until she was confident it was clear.

“Sylvie, it’s me, Maxime.” His voice carried through the trees, and she spotted the young man leaning against a poplar, trying to catch his breath.

“What are you doing all the way out here?” she asked, grabbing her pack and jogging over to him.

“Gabriel sent me to look for you.” Maxime’s skin was pallid, sweat sheening his forehead. He wiped his dark hair from his face, and from the look in his eyes, it was obvious something terrible had happened.

“What is it? Did the aliens attack?” she asked, her pulse racing.

Maxime caught his breath, shaking his head. “No. Nothing like that. It’s a message.”

“A message?” Sylvie asked, and passed her nearly empty bottle of water into his shaking hand.

“The Americans. They are asking everyone to rise against the invaders.” Maxime had regained his composure, and she urged him forward, toward their home.

Home. The word’s meaning was almost lost on her these days.

“How? If we received a message, it must have come through the alien network,” she said, her feet moving faster.

“That’s what Gabriel said too. We’ve recorded it. You’ll have to judge for yourself,” Max said, struggling to keep pace with her. The trip took a couple hours, but eventually, their surroundings were familiar.

The trees grew thicker here, and Sylvie smelled food on the spit. Despite the urgent news, her stomach grumbled at the scent of freshly roasted meat. People were lingering about, and the moment they saw her enter camp, they rushed at her, talking over one another. She could hardly understand what they were saying as she pressed through them, heading past the dozens of sturdy cabins to the end of camp.

Gabriel stood in the doorway, a grim expression on his face.

“Is it true?” she asked, dropping her supplies to the dirt path.

“Come and see.” He waved her inside, but Maxime remained behind, chatting with the others.

Gabriel’s dwelling doubled as the colony’s headquarters, and she glanced at her desk along the side of the cabin, paper notes piled high during her week away.

“You’re going to want to sit for this,” Gabriel said, indicating his chair. She obeyed, the wood creaking as she leaned forward. He pulled up another seat and activated his series of monitors. The camp had limited energy and used the entire set of solar powers to keep tabs on the aliens’ movements and operations. It was the only reason so many of them lived in the South of France.

The image appeared, an old uniformed man staggering toward another man, this one in a suit. They spoke in English, and Gabriel had already embedded the translation in the file. Their words scrolled over the bottom of the screen in French, and she read as much as she watched.

The image changed, showing a familiar face. “Is this the one from early on?” she asked, remembering seeing the videos when she was a little girl, being held by her father’s strong arms. They hadn’t been powerful enough to keep her sister or mother alive, or himself.

“This is Travis Mason,” Gabriel said, and she examined the rest of the footage, noticing the other man say he was Tom Mason, a Marine Colonel, and asking everyone to rise against the Occupation. He was executed, a gunshot to the head, and she felt the tear streaming down her face before she even realized she was crying.

Gabriel’s hand settled on her shoulder, and the flying camera showed the most terrifying thing she’d ever seen. The glowing blue energy crackled, flares of power coursing out as an alien vessel emerged from the gateway. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of the invaders in the field, and she was sickened by the sight of so many in one place.

The video ended, and it began to replay. “What do we do?” she asked Gabriel. He sat there, blankly staring at the screen before speaking.

“We do as he asks. Because what else is there? Keep hiding in the forest like animals?” he asked quietly.

Her blood thrummed in her ears, and she pictured Adam, his dead eyes watching the sky after the four-legged robot had killed him inside the old farmhouse. He’d clutched a leather-bound book, written by her favorite poet, and she pried it out, leaving his body because there was nothing else to do.

She wiped tears from her cheeks, resolve firming in her spine. “Tell the others. Send messages to the enclaves. It’s time to rise.”

Fan

Fan peered out the window, wondering how much longer there was in his shift. Smoke billowed thickly, blotting out most of the sunlight, making it difficult to tell. They’d been pushing production for the last few weeks, making most of the workers nervous. Fan didn’t really care one way or another.

He ran a hand over his bristly hair and pressed the cap on the medical device. He glanced down the line, seeing there were at least another hundred of the things coming his way, slowly traversing the conveyer belt. Every day, it was the same thing.

Fan stretched his arms, yawning as he saw a commotion at the far end of the warehouse floor.

People were leaving their seats, rushing to the screens near the supervisor’s office. Li had a gun in his hand, and he nervously aimed it at the crowd of workers surrounding his door.

“Everyone back!” he shouted, but they didn’t listen.

People were shouting, talking over one another, and Fan caught a few remarks.

“What is that man doing?”

“That’s Mason, from the invasion.”

Fan recalled the man’s speech, his wife holding the twin babies as a sign of hope, but like everything else, they were most certainly dead.

His mentor had taught him about the before times, but Fan didn’t fully understand a world prior to the alien invasion. Not many did, not in the Chinese manufacturing plants. They were like him: similar in age, docile, and hard-working.

Someone held up a hand and told them he spoke English. The group let the old man named Wei pass through, and he translated the best he could.

Fan watched in horror as the older uniformed man was killed point blank, and images of the vehicles emerging from the glowing portal burned into his mind.

Things would never be the same.

“They’re coming,” Li said, his voice shaking, and he turned off the screen, sending everyone scattering to their workstations. Fan ran, nearly tripping over another worker, but managed to settle at his chair along the belt before the main doors opened. You could hear a pin drop as the alien strode into the room. Its head tilted as it surveyed the space, and Fan almost thought it sniffed the air, as if it could smell their betrayal.

He clicked and gestured toward Li, who nodded his comprehension of the alien language. Fan tried to watch casually, though his hands shook as he pressed the caps on the devices. He thought about their function; how they helped the aliens to breathe.

Without these sprays, they wouldn’t be able to survive on Earth. The alien eventually left, and the room let out a harmonic sigh of relief. By the time the alarm rang out, advising them the shift was ended, Fan’s nerves were fried.

“Can you believe it? What was that portal? I guess we know why production was ramped up,” Biyu said, her hands trembling.

Fan only nodded, catching a glimpse of the vats in the next room. The machines stirred the ingredients, and Fan noted the crates beside the massive stainless-steel barrels. The idea seemed so incredulous, and there was no way he’d ever be able to accomplish it on his own. Still…

“Are you listening?” Biyu asked.

Fan said he was, as they lined up for food. He was passed a full food credit, as they all were, and while he ate, he began formulating a plan that would likely get him killed. For the first time in his life, Fan found himself caring about something.

Jack

Jack tugged on the rod’s handle, reeling the line in a little as the breeze blew chilly northern England air across his brow. He peered at the cooler beside him, half full of freshly caught fish, and he smiled. He’d been around before and had seen how much his parents had struggled to exist. The constant bickering about bills, and dinners, and the future.

Jack took a sip of his beer, sensing a part of him would be content to live this way for the rest of his life.

“How’s it going?” a woman’s voice asked, and her hand settled on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze as Ava kissed the top of his head.

“See for yourself,” he told her, and she let out a tiny sound of delight at the abundance in the cooler.

“You’re going to miss this, aren’t you?” she asked, taking a seat next to him on the log.

“I am.”

“Maybe when it’s over, we can return here. Carry out our lives in solitude,” she suggested. He peered at her, feeling his affection overtake his better judgment.

“What if we stay? Let Daniel leave. He can lead them…”

She placed a finger on his lips, shushing him. “You can’t, Jack. We can’t.”

“I know,” he admitted. “It was worth a try, wasn’t it?” Jack rose from the bench and reeled the line in, taking a last glance across the expanse of Windermere. It was beautiful here, the lake always stocked, the wildlife abundant. The best part was the absence of the Occupation, as the American had called it. Once London had been wiped from the face of the Earth, and the drones had scoured the country, killing everything they could, the aliens hadn’t paid much attention to the UK.

He finished his beer and set the bottle into his pack. Jack made a mental note to tell David how good the last batch was.

The hovercar lingered near the treeline, and he climbed in, waiting for his protection detail to arrive. The Trackers trotted in, one by one, and Ava watched them from the side of her eye. His wife never liked the robots around, even if they had been reprogrammed to suit their needs.

He left the last five from farther down the lakeshore, knowing full well they’d return home soon.

The hovercar shook and vibrated as he powered it up, and soon they were rising into the air, traveling over the copse of trees. A few minutes later, they lowered to the yard behind the castle. Jack still remembered sharing a cramped room with his brother, and now he guessed he was the king of a castle, with a beautiful queen at his side to share the throne with.

“Daddy!” A small boy ran from the cracked walkway, arms outstretched as he arrived.

Daniel was behind Jack’s son, frowning at the running child. “I’m sorry. He took off as soon as he heard the engines.”

Jack picked up his son, spinning around. “Benji, do you want to help me take the fish to the kitchens?”

His son nodded with exaggeration, and Daniel gave Jack a look that meant they needed to talk.

A few others had emerged from the castle, and they began unloading the cooler, the Trackers disembarking to take position along the property lines. Something reflected sunlight from above, and Jack saw the Seekers returning from the lake.

Jack set his son to the ground, and Ava took the boy’s hand, kissing Jack’s cheek. “See you at dinner?”

“Until then,” Jack said, watching his precious family walk toward the castle.

“Jack, you can’t keep leaving like that. Times are tumultuous, and we need to act,” Daniel said.

Jack clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a smile. “I needed one last day so I don’t forget what we’re doing this for.”

Daniel didn’t seem convinced but took the lead, moving around the grounds toward the rear of the structure. The grass was tended to, the gardens in bloom, sending a wondering aroma through the air as the breeze rustled the flowers.

Jack soaked it all in. The castle was well-fortified, the keep in the center of the stone-walled grounds, and they closed the gate nightly, even though they knew full well the aliens didn’t care if they had locked doors or not.

They moved through the rear entrance, Olivia and Terrance stepping to the side to grant them passage.

“We’ve deciphered the hidden code in the message,” Daniel told him.

“Is that so?” Jack asked, impressed with their abilities.

The pathway led to the keep, and they climbed the tower’s circular staircase to the top level. “It gives us a way to communicate with the Reclaimers, and a location where they’re gathering.”

Jack guessed it was going to come to this, and he waved at the group of people working diligently at their consoles. The entire keep was utilizing solar cells, and the spire on the tower held dozens of varying electronic antennae, half of which Jack didn’t even understand the function of. But the team did, and he trusted them every step of the way.

Daniel wiped his palms on his dark jeans, clearly nervous about what he was about to show Jack.

Jack pulled his thick knitted sweater over his head and tossed it to a wooden chair along the wall, before stopping at the computer screens.

“Show him, Laurie.” Daniel crossed his arms, and Jack leaned in, staring toward the map that appeared.

“It’s on the west coast of America, sir.” Laurie pointed to the map, her finger stopping over northern California.

“And the Mason twins. They live?” Jack asked.

“We think so. Thomas Mason said as much,” Daniel told him.

“He could be lying. Trying to rile us up.” Jack played the devil’s advocate.

“I don’t think so. Jack… we’ve talked about this for years. Now is our chance,” Daniel said tensely.

Jack had never asked to lead this group, and he turned, staring out the window. From this vantage point, he saw the entire population. Hundreds of homes constructed under the protection of his drone army, and their numbers were in the thousands. He suddenly felt how foolish they’d been living in the open like this. They were lucky the Overseers hadn’t returned to destroy them too.

“We have a way to communicate?” Jack asked, and Laurie grinned, pushing off against the desk to roll on her chair across the floor. She flipped the radio receiver on, and the series of lights illuminated. The radio was cabled into the receiver, and she pressed it toward him.

“It’s set up. All you have to do is talk,” she told him, and he took the handheld radio.

This was it. Time to make contact. “This is Jack Paulson of the Barony. Come in, Reclaimers.”

He smirked at Daniel after saying their group’s name. His friend hated the moniker, but Jack thought it had a nice ring to it.

“This is the Reclaimers. Happy to hear from you, Jack Paulson. Over.” The voice crackled through the speakers, and the hair on Jack’s hands stood on end.

“I want to speak with the Mason twins. Over.”

“They are in a meeting… if you can tell us about…”

“Tell them I need to speak with them. We have… an army. In the UK,” he said, assuming his dialect would have given him away.

“Hold, please. Over.”

Jack glanced at Daniel, who was pacing around their computer headquarters, stepping over loose cables strewn over the floor.

The radio remained silent for minutes, and Jack stood still, waiting for it to beep again.

Finally, the sound emerged, the voice on the other end confident and strong. “This is Alec Mason.”

Chapter 1

Alec

It was bright outside, and Alec was reminded of the few times he’d been exposed to the daylight while working in the Detroit manufacturing plant. All those years, and he’d been helping to construct what would become their final doom. The Gateway.

It pained him to think of the people he’d worked alongside who were likely dead by this point. There weren’t many humans remaining around the world, especially after the last few weeks.

“Are there more coming in?” he asked Izzy, who was typing on her tablet as they walked down the rocky pathway that led to the medical facility.

Izzy didn’t peer up from her device as she answered. “You bet. Another hundred in the last three days.”

“Where are they from?” he asked, genuinely curious how so many had been able to decipher the code Tom had embedded into his video feed.

She shrugged. “All over. Last batch started near Del Mar and picked up stragglers along the way. When they realized there was no one coming for them, the ones that escaped the final facility purges ran for the coast.”

Alec was glad to hear it. The west coast camp had filled up, but they’d already begun to expand outside its walls, making cabins and temporary shelters in the forests lining Zhao’s fortress. From above, the Occupation wouldn’t see much, but Alec was confident the Overseers weren’t exceedingly concerned with the humans any longer. From here, Alec could hear the echoes of construction and it drew his attention to the left, beyond the chain-link fence.

“What’s our count at?” he asked. He knew the numbers, but liked to ask.

“Five thousand, three hundred and seven.” Izzy finally broke her stare with the screen, and she pressed the sleep button on the side of the tablet. “That’s a lot of mouths to feed. Which is why my father didn’t expand.”

“And he reminds us about it daily, doesn’t he?” Alec grinned.

Izzy smiled at him, pulling him in with an arm around his waist. Their hips bumped together as they walked, and he didn’t want the moment to end.

“Here we are.” Izzy let go as they stopped at the medical building, and he held the door for her.

Alec glanced inside the room, which had been all but vacant the first time he’d visited a month ago, checking on Becca after they’d arrived. This time, the half dozen beds had increased to ten, and they were each occupied. Doctor Parvati bustled around, Issuing orders to the three staff, and she noticed Alec and Izzy, waving them near.

She met them near a desk at the front of the room, her mouth covered by a white mask, and she raised her eyebrows. “Want to see him?”

Alec nodded, licking his suddenly dry lips.

“Have your hands full, I see,” Izzy told the doctor.

“They keep coming. I have everything from the common cold, to infections, to far worse. We’re not equipped for this, Izzy,” Parvati said softly, and Alec noted the bags under her eyes.

“I heard Father mention there was a doctor in the last bunch of newcomers. At least he used to be. He’s going to send him here tomorrow once he’s rested and fed,” Izzy told the woman, and Alec saw the corners of the doctor’s eyes crinkle as she smiled beneath the mask.

“That’s good news. Thank you.” Doctor Parvati turned as someone called for her. “Help yourself to the room and lock up when you leave.” She left them unattended, and Izzy stalked through the beds, Alec trailing in her wake.

The door was at the far left recesses of the main room; a solid metal slab with no windows on it. His companion pressed a key into the handle and turned it, tugging the entrance to the storage room wide.

Inside, the alien was seated, and his almond-shaped eyes blinked, a slow, clear eyelid shooting from the side of the socket.

The lights were dim, just enough for the creature to see its food or makeshift latrine. The room’s scent was almost overwhelming with the mixture of bleach and the leathery musk of the Overseer.

“He’s getting stronger,” Izzy said, stepping up to the bars of the cage.

Alec stared at it, uncomfortable with being this close to one of them. This one was no longer menacing, but its alien essence remained, and he watched as its long fingers rubbed bony backward knees.

It coughed and spoke a series of words they didn’t understand. “Where are we with the translation?” he asked.

Izzy kept staring at it. “We’re close. Their ships seem to have a supplementary program that allows them to read our language, so we’re tweaking that, and expect to have the ability to speak to them very soon.”

“That’s great news.”

“It seems so weak. It’s hard to imagine these are what ended our world,” Izzy said.

Alec bristled. “It’s not so difficult when you’ve been forced to be a slave under their rule.”

“If only we hadn’t sided with them. We never would have ended up here, would we?” she asked, her voice soft.

“That’s what Tom said. The first arrival was only a scouting team, sent far across the galaxy to set up camp and build the gateways. Now that they’re open, they’re going to pillage our world, leaving us the husk. At least that was his theory,” Alec said, wishing the thought of his uncle didn’t bring a rush of loss each time.

“I think he was right.” Izzy and Alec stood in silence as the creature began to cough again, its body doubling over. She pulled something from her pocket and held it up. Instantly, the sickly Overseer’s back went rigid, and he crawled across the floor, holding his hand out toward her.

“This is the key, Alec. This is how we defeat them,” she said, letting him take the mister from her grip. He pressed the sides, and a gentle flow of damp medicine sprayed from it, and he inhaled through slotted nostrils, falling over as he did so.

“You know this plan is crazy, right?” he asked.

“All the good ones are. Do you think your plan to steal a spaceship from Las Vegas was any saner?” Izzy laughed, and the sound felt wrong in the cramped space.

“You have me there. Come on, I haven’t eaten breakfast yet,” Alec said.

Izzy shook her head. “You go ahead. I’m going to hang here for a bit.”

“Why?” he asked.

“I… I’m curious.”

“Want me to stay?”

“No. You go and eat, and we’ll meet later with my father about the pre-meeting details, okay?” She grabbed his hand and leaned forward, kissing him gently on the lips.

“Okay. But don’t stay too long. Your dad will freak if he finds out you were in here alone,” Alec said, and turned to leave, glancing back for a moment as Izzy leaned against the wall, staring at the pitiful creature.

Twenty minutes later, Alec found himself in the mess hall, where it was busier than he’d ever seen it. He recognized a few faces from the Roamer group, some of them volunteering to serve food behind the makeshift buffet tables, and he waved at Marisol, who winked as she dropped some eggs on a Freeborn’s plate.

“Over here, Mason,” a familiar voice shouted, and he spotted Monet at a table, sitting with Becca. They were both wearing old army fatigues, with Becca’s sleeve tied at her missing hand.

“Good morning.” Alec sat in the plastic chair, across the small table from them.

“Have you seen your brother?” Monet asked, and Alec shook his head.

“No, not today.”

“I think I saw him wandering around with the girl,” Becca said.

“Lina?” Monet asked.

“That’s the one. Are they…?” Becca asked, and Alec almost laughed, imagining his brother being in any sort of a relationship with another human. He hardly seemed able to stand his own presence.

“I’m not sure, but they do have a dog together,” Monet said with a smile. “Two, actually.”

“That Tracker creeps me out,” Becca said, poking at some scrambled eggs.

Alec wished his brother would turn that thing off, but as long as it was programmed for protection, he supposed it wasn’t doing any harm. “Monet, have you heard any news?”

“About the Overseers?” she asked, and he nodded, his stomach grumbling.

“Same as ever. Sylvie has her scouts heading for Spain, where rumors have the Occupation mines being developed. We’ve heard some scattered comments about Africa too.” Monet drank black coffee from a chipped coffee mug.

“I don’t get it. Why build the Gateway in Detroit if there are mines around the world?” Alec asked. The answer came to him right away, and he felt foolish for not guessing sooner. “They have other gateways, don’t they?”

Monet waved her fork in the air. “That’s what we’re thinking.”

Alec’s stomach dropped, and suddenly, his hunger was gone. “How can we stop them if they’re spread out around the world? We have two ships and a few drones.”

“That’s what we’re going to figure out tomorrow,” Becca said, staying cheerful. She’d been through a lot, but Alec admired how upbeat she tended to stay.

“Tomorrow. Right.” Alec remembered the hope that filled him when he’d first heard the communication from Jack Paulson two weeks ago. His world had turned upside down when they’d learned about the group in the UK. Then a French woman had contacted them, claiming to inhabit a village of two thousand camped out all around the South of France. Alec wondered how many other hidden caches of people existed, and guessed there were far more than he’d ever discover.

Becca pressed her plate to the side, and stood, stretching her back. “I have field duty today, so I’ll catch you two later.” She walked away, and Monet leaned in.

“Izzy likes you. She mentioned it to Becca.”

Alec averted his gaze, looking toward the buffet. “I don’t have time for that kind of thing.”

Monet’s expression softened, and she spoke quietly. “Alec, you were a slave your whole life. If you don’t live now, you might never have the chance.”

He thought about Izzy and had no clue what was really happening there. “You might be right, but we have a long way to go.” Alec rose, moving for the food. “Want any more coffee?”

Chapter 2

Cole

Cole walked slowly between the lines of crops surrounding the canopy of trees hiding their camp from the harsh and unforgiving world outside. He was exhausted, more mentally than physically, and threw each leg lazily forward from the hip. Lina, head bowed and walking in silence, padded along beside him with her near silent footfalls.

Their companions, both four-legged and canine but so wildly different in almost every way, followed at their respective heels. Buddy, their oddly domesticated coyote, kept a wary eye on the dull-painted metal chassis of the drone that tracked Cole. It did this not out of a sense of loyalty but borne of programming to keep the young man safe.

Cole watched as Lina reached out a hand, running the flowering stalks of the waist-high crops through her fingertips gently so as not to disturb them. The feeling was odd for him, even more so after the terror and rage he felt having been in battle only a short time ago. It felt like it was yesterday, and he couldn’t seem to shake that tension, which cramped his muscles as though he expected to have to take cover and return fire at any moment.

They didn’t talk much, just walked in tense silence as if both wanted to blurt out how they felt, but neither possessed the vocabulary necessary to communicate their feelings adequately.

“I…” Cole began, hearing his voice sound quieter and weaker than he wanted. “I…”

“I know,” she said with a sad sigh. Perhaps, he thought, she was trying to tell him that she felt the same anxiety. That she was tired and frightened of what had happened and what might happen soon if they were to have any chance of overthrowing their oppressors and to live free.

He lacked the words and experience of the feelings to fully understand them, but he was unhappy that they would be sent in opposing directions again soon, that their individual missions wove differing paths in the fight to exonerate their race and planet from the Overseers.

“There’s a briefing tomorrow morning,” he said finally.

“Yes.”

“You’ll be there?” he asked.

“I will.”

Cole opened his mouth to speak before his mind caught up and he realized he had nothing to say. He was saved by the arrival of a hulking shadow at the exit doors they wandered toward. He recognized the man by size and shape alone, fighting a stab of something in his chest that made him want to attack Yas. The drone, hijacked and reprogrammed, pushed to lean the right side of its chassis against his left leg, which made Cole wonder if someone, Soares probably, had programmed the Tracker to act like a real flesh and blood canine companion.

He reached down with his left hand to place his fingertips on the head of the drone as if reassuring him—it—and wonder why it had reacted that way.

“I have to go,” Lina said, stopping and turning to angle her face up to his. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Cole nodded, watching her walk away and allowing himself a smirk of amusement at the wary sniff the coyote gave the robot as he passed. He observed Lina greeting the big man who shared so many cultural similarities with her, leaving him feeling angry and inadequate. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, he focused his concentration on more important and relevant matters.

He peered at the drone, which had sunk to its back legs to conserve energy. It canted its head a little to the side as if patiently waiting for a command. He shook his head, telling himself that it was his own childish stupidity and desperate need for companionship that made him interpret the gestures as that of a living creature.

SW-18

It watched as the human subject departed, allowing a distance of three paces before resuming the automated follow protocols as if attached by an invisible tether.

[SUBJECT HORMONE LEVELS SUBSIDING TO NORMAL PARAMETERS]

[THREAT LEVEL REDUCED FROM MODERATE TO NORMAL]

[RECOMMENCING GUARD PROTOCOLS]

Lina

Lina returned to the Freeborn’s camp and was greeted as warmly as if she were family. She reserved some happiness as thoughts of Cole and her real family tugged at her mind. She felt guilty for finding joy when so many others had died—not just the people of her own village but for the thousands killed in the failed attack and subsequent clashes—and when she thought of Tom’s final sacrifice to spread the word to everyone, her heart dropped again.

Buddy took off from her side, making her wonder if there was a nearby danger. She spun away to see the young girl, Cheyenne, rolling on the ground with him and muttering in his ear as he played with her.

“He loves her,” Yas boomed, beaming a smile at the pair.

“I’m pretty sure it’s reciprocal,” Lina told him, happy to leave Buddy to play, safe in the knowledge that he and everyone around him wouldn’t be harmed. She wandered through the overcrowded areas provided for them in the outskirts of the facility, smiled at faces she recognized, exchanged greetings with others, and felt the familiar awkwardness of being treated as some kind of celebrity.

“You’ve been invited to their meeting tomorrow?” Yas asked. She nodded, looking up at him to ask a question with a raised eyebrow.

“I have,” he said, answering her silent query.

The two walked on in peace, a comfortable silence unlike the awkward one she’d shared with Cole, until they reached the thick viewing ports set at eye level into the outer edge of the camp. She didn’t know its purpose before the invasion, before she was born, but it was perfect for their current needs. At least it had been before the mass arrival of so many refugees.

Yas leaned down to be able to see through the opening, and let out a satisfied grumble.

They both stared at the same objects, as she did every time she returned there, partly out of a need to reassure herself that it wasn’t all a bad dream, and partly to recall that they had more of a fighting chance than ever before.

The two alien ships settled on their heavy landing gear and stripped of anything that could lead their enemy to their hiding place. They lay under the cover of trees where possible, with scaffolds erected to provide camouflage netting, which draped over the exposed parts and hid them from any prying eye flying overhead. She imagined them powering up, surging upwards from the ground to break away from their disguises and turn east toward the nearest gateway.

“Any news on your friend?” Yas asked, shattering her daydream.

“He’s… he seems upset,” she said quietly. “He saw his uncle killed in front of him, we all did, and I don’t think he’s taken it well.”

Yas grunted, conveying a sense of awkwardness that made her shoot him a questioning look.

“You didn’t mean Cole, did you?” she asked. He shook his head.

“My… friend,” she said, “was barely alive the last time I checked. The doctors here don’t know what’s wrong with it, and others are still trying to decipher the language from their ships to be able to find a way to communicate with it and find out.”

“Will it give the fever to us?”

Lina shook her head and pursed her lips to hide the fact that she didn’t fully believe the doctors who had given their assurances that it could not.

“They say no. It’s like the sickness that animals get but people cannot.” Yas grunted again.

“You think it can help?”

“Imagine our villages were at war,” she said, feeling him stiffen beside her at the mention of it. She held up a calming hand and tried again, softer this time. “Imagine our villages were at war, and you found a way to make all of their people sick without contracting the disease yourself…”

“It is a dishonorable way to—”

“You think the aliens care about honor?” she snapped, instantly regretting the tone of her voice.

“I care about my honor,” Yas answered carefully, “even if others do not.”

“Honor or no honor,” Lina told him with a reassuring arm rested on the bulbous muscle of his shoulder, “we must win. That’s all that matters.”

Chapter 3

Dex

Dex forgot about everything going on for a moment as he drove the highway, windows rolled down and music blaring through the old muscle car’s speakers. It may not have been his first choice for a vehicle, but it would do in a pinch. It turned out there were a lot of options once the majority of the Hunters had been “let go,” as Hansen had put it. That likely meant they’d received a bullet in their heads as a retirement gift, and he tried not to think about it as the Zeppelin song played.

The last few weeks had been hell, but he was glad to finally have some space between him and the damned Gateway. It powered on once a week from what Dex understood, depending on what was coming in and out of the hub. So far, he’d been subtle in asking for details, not wanting to come across as too interested in the aliens’ business. Judging by the lack of information Hansen seemed to have, he didn’t think the self-proclaimed Colonel knew much either.

Dex slowed as he approached the Mackinac Bridge, wary of such a long stretch of unkempt highway over the bodies of water. To his right sat Lake Huron, to his left, Lake Michigan, and today, the sun was bright casting bright reflections from the east.

The bridge was over four miles long, and even from the far end, a few of the old metal support cables dangled to the sides, snapped from weather and disrepair. Winters could be harsh up here, and Dex suspected this highway had seen better days.

He didn’t have a choice. While the Overseers were hauling iron from the mines using hovering freighters, Dex was landlocked in his car, and Hansen had told him to meet at the Iron Mountain facility.

“Here goes nothing,” Dex whispered, pressing his foot to the gas pedal as Robert Plant sang about giving someone his love.

He drove at twenty, carefully avoiding any cracks or rifts in the concrete, and by the time he was halfway over the bridge, his sweating had subsided. Dex glanced at his sleeves, wondering why he chose to wear the leather jacket on a warm morning like today. Summer had continued for a little longer here, and he cranked the fan up a notch.

By the time the song ended, Dex had crossed the bridge, and he took a deep inhale, knowing he’d likely head south once he’d been given his next orders.

The rest of the drive went smoothly. The remarkable lake views snuck past treelines and run-down motels along the way, and in another hour or so, he saw the first derelict sign telling him about the upcoming Iron Mountain Mine tours. Not that he needed the directions.

He stared at the massive floating alien structure, a beam of bright red cutting toward the Earth. The ground shook here, a constant vibration as he guided his modified sixty-seven Camaro toward the mine. Every instinct told Dex to turn around and leave, but he’d promised Tom Mason he’d be the inside man, and after working under these bastards for so many years, he figured his conscience needed this salvation.

To his surprise, the roads were still twinned, even out here in northern Michigan, where the population was insignificant. But he imagined the old mines were part of the reason for the extra lanes, local residents annoyed at the relentless movement of semi-trailers. Dex caught sight of an old railroad, a train parked a quarter mile away with a tree growing through the caboose. For some reason, the sight made him smile, and he almost forgot where he was heading, until his gaze found the skies again.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” he asked himself, and turned the music off, hearing the full noise of the alien mining equipment now. It was a terrible sound, like the grinding of tectonic plates, and he jammed a finger in his ear, trying to block the effect.

He slowed near the mine turnoff and saw the operation more clearly without the tree cover. The structure above the old mine was a mile wide, huge thrusters pressed a blue flame downward, and the red beams appeared to be cutting into the earth.

The beam stopped, and the noise decreased to a thrumming from the thrusters. Dex watched as hovering robots rolled in and out from the massive hole in the earth. The robotic drones floated, each the size of a dump truck, full of the raw iron ore the aliens were so interested in acquiring.

No sense in delaying the inevitable. One of the alien vessels was grounded beside the open excavation, and Dex saw a Hummer beside it. That matched Hansen’s style.

A minute later, Dex drove beside the other vehicle, throwing his car into park, and he stepped out, feeling vulnerable as he saw the group of aliens stalking the mine perimeter. They were wearing some kind of dark gray skein, their muscles and bones protruding from the material. For the first time, Dex noticed how different the aliens could appear.

They inhaled while talking and clicked the devices away.

“Lambert, what the hell took you so long?” Hansen’s distinct lisp carried across the grounds.

“Did some sightseeing,” Dex joked, but the man didn’t smile. Which was fine by Dex, since his scarred face was even harder to look at when he showed his teeth.

Dex wished that Tom had finished the job all those years ago, then the Reclaimers leader might still be alive, and the world would be a different place. Wishes are for the dead, Dex thought.

“Stop messing around.” Hansen’s gaze rose over Dex’s shoulder to the aliens behind him. The Occupation’s human leader was clearly tense; a sheen of sweat clung to his forehead like a banner.

“Sorry, sir. Trip was slow going. That old highway hasn’t held up so well,” Dex told him, and Hansen only nodded idly.

“Walk with me,” Hansen said. Dex noticed the man’s hand was never far from the gun strapped in his chest holster, and Dex didn’t blame him. His own Glock was under his leather coat, where he’d be able to access it quickly.

Dex followed the man around the giant alien vessel and toward the mine’s edge. The skies were crystal clear, not a cloud in sight, and the sun beat down as it began its trip to the western horizon. Beyond the mine were overgrown fields to the right, a dense forest of spruce and birch to the left.

“You know, these old mines were thought to be empty. Either that or they found cheaper ways to process it back in the day.” Hansen pointed to the ground, where Dex could see veins of dusty red ore. The walls of the mine were ridged, and old roadways ran along the outskirts where trucks had once hauled the supplies in and out. Now they were irrelevant, as the alien transporters were able to fly.

“There wasn’t much talk about mining where I grew up,” Dex said, realizing he knew nothing about Hansen, other than he’d betrayed Tom and Travis early on. That told Dex about as much as he needed to know.

“The Overseers have them all over the planet.”

“So they’re stripping us, hey?” Dex asked.

“Sure, but what will it matter? We’re going to be…”

“On an island, right?” Dex was dubious.

“You don’t believe it?” Hansen asked, his gaze still on the mining operation below.

“I don’t know what to believe, but if there’s a chance we can survive this, I’m in,” Dex lied.

Hansen patted him on the back and nodded. “Good. Which brings me to your next job.”

Dex didn’t like the segue but waited for the orders.

“There was an agri-facility in Wisconsin we shut down a month ago. Some of them may have escaped during the purge, and I want you to go there and deal with it.” Hansen met his stare now, his face unreadable.

“Deal with it. Understood.” Dex was aware of what the man wanted. “How do you propose I do that?”

“You’re an industrious man. You’ll figure it out,” Hansen said, and Dex jumped as the red beam began cutting through the sky, striking the mine below.

“I’ll need a tablet to communicate.” Dex had to shout over the noise, and Hansen waved him to follow along as he walked from the gaping hole, toward a metal structure a few hundred yards away. As they entered and shut the door, the noise from outside was partially blocked, and Dex could almost hear again.

“This will allow you to communicate with me.” He passed an alien-looking radio to Dex, who raised an eyebrow as he clutched it. “You tap the icon here.” Hansen pressed the screen, and it sprang into life. Dex paid attention as he was given the instructions.

“I’ll still need a tablet.”

“Why?”

“What about the drones? Aren’t you worried about them being in someone else’s control?” Dex asked.

“Nonsense. I killed that fool, and no one saw his message. You know why? Because we’d already disabled our facilities by then. If the Overseers aren’t worried about a ragtag group of Vermin, neither should we. Capiche?” Hansen’s lisp was more pronounced, his forehead sweating droplets.

“Clear as day. But I think…”

“Fine.” Hansen crossed the room, unlocking a desk drawer, and passed a tablet to Dex. “I can trust you, right, Lambert?”

Dex didn’t hesitate. “Of course you can, sir. You and me. We’ll be sipping little fruity drinks on the beach in no time.”

A flicker of something crossed Hansen’s face before he gave Dex one of his frightening smiles. He wiped a hand on his blue suit and stuck it out, Dex shaking it quickly. “If you do these few jobs well, we’ll be able to make it there sooner than later.”

“Where are the others?” Dex asked, noticing there were no other humans visible at the mine.

“They’re doing their own tasks. Each mine has one of us watching over the procedures,” Hansen told him.

Dex wondered if the details were outlined in his tablet, and slid the device into his jacket’s oversized pocket. “Sounds good.”

“Care for something to eat or drink?”

“I won’t decline some coffee and a few waters to take with me, but other than that, I’d just as soon be on the road,” Dex told him truthfully.

“Right this way.”

Ten minutes later, Dex was heading east, glad to be leaving the loud mining efforts, and took one last glance into his rearview mirror, seeing the red beams still cutting into the ground. He wanted to stop the car, to examine the tablet and try to gain an understanding of the current state of the Occupation, but he needed a few miles between him and the hundreds of aliens first.

He took a sip from his coffee cup, thankful for the dark strong brew.

Chapter 4

Alec

The room was stuffy, and Alec moved to the small window to open it wide. A gentle breeze sent fresh air inside, and he stood there for a moment before taking his seat. Gregory Zhao frowned at him and peered at his daughter.

“As I was saying, this is going to be a difficult venture, but I have confidence…”

“Would have helped if you had confidence before Tom was killed,” Cole muttered, and the room grew silent. Cole didn’t back down. “We’re all thinking it. You’ve been content to hide out here while Tom was doing the dirty work. Good people like Soares and Monet here busting their hump and sticking their necks out for the cause, while you grow tomatoes and breathe fresh ocean air.”

Alec turned to Cole, shaking his head, but his brother didn’t appear to notice.

Zhao stared at Cole for a moment, his chin lowering to rest on his chest. “You’re right. You are a thousand percent right, my boy. That’s why I’m helping now. It’s the only thing I can do. Will it bring back Tom? No. Will it bring back my sister, or your parents, or all the damned people we’ve lost along the way?” Zhao’s voice rose, his posture stiffening. “But we’re going to try, and that’s enough.”

Cole relaxed in his chair, and Alec felt the tension leave the room. Izzy was beside him in the makeshift meeting space. There were some stacked crates in the corner, an extra lamp added to the desk to increase the light in the storage facility. They gathered around the folding tables, lined up beside each other, and Alec shifted his glance, seeing various expressions from everyone

Yas sat beside Lina, his hulking presence countered by his soft and amiable voice. The two Roamers, Renata and her daughter Marisol, were present, and Alec noticed the younger watching his brother.

Soares sat beside Monet at the far end of the tables, with the two pilots, Becca and Whittaker, opposite them, turned in their seats to watch Zhao at the wall, looming over the gigantic map spread along the wooden surface.

Doctor Parvati was beside Alec. She hadn’t said a word since entering the room, and Alec suspected her thoughts were consumed with her patients in the medical facility. Scott, the ex-police officer, sat beside Bailey, Tom’s third in command, rounding out the group.

Zhao continued. “We have an influx of people coming into our haven, and this is bound to attract attention at some point. We’re working on finding a secondary location we can use as a backup, and I’ve sent a dozen scouts out, mostly heading north along the coast toward Oregon, and perhaps on to Washington state after that.

“These are some long-term issues that might turn short-term if we’re discovered, or if we keep receiving the steady stream of newcomers.” Zhao took a sip from his water glass and cleared his throat. “We have tactical issues to decide on, and I’m going to hand the floor over to Captain Soares to discuss. Keep in mind we don’t need to argue about any of the topics. I think everyone in this room can hold a civilized conversation, and if you can’t, you’ll be asked to leave.” Zhao peered at Cole.

Soares rose and crossed the floor, standing at the map while Zhao took a seat. “We failed.” The words hung in the air for a moment before he kept going. “We had a mission, and that was to shut the Gateway down. We didn’t do that, even with some help from new friends.” The captain glanced at the Roamers. “But Tom did something special; he sacrificed himself so we might have a future. Without his bravery, we wouldn’t have met Jack Paulson, or Sylvie. We wouldn’t have the Freeborns or any of the others working with us now.”

“He didn’t need to die,” Cole whispered, and Soares leaned over the table, palms resting on the surface.

“Cole. Your uncle was already dying. You knew that. He had cancer, and it was so bad, he could hardly get up some mornings. Let us remember his life, and his purpose, and give him this.” Soares’ voice was calm but passionate.

Alec remembered the coughing and the redness of his eyes. Every time he’d asked his uncle about it, he’d deflected, but he’d understood the truth, at some level, the entire time.

“What does this mean?” Soares asked. “It means we have new objectives. What details can we know are factual?”

“We know the Gateway is open,” Alec said.

“Right. We also suspect there are more than one of these gateways on Earth. Jack and Sylvie are working on confirming this. What else?”

“We have control of the drones,” Izzy said.

“Bingo. Which tells us they either don’t know how to reprogram their robots, or they don’t care,” Soares said.

“We found out they need misters to breathe and survive on Earth.” Doctor Parvati spoke for the first time.

“Very good.”

“The factories are in China,” Zhao told them.

Soares nodded, scribbling the details on a whiteboard with a red felt marker. His handwriting was nearly illegible, but Alec got the point.

“Then it’s clear what we have to do,” Monet said from the far side of the table.

Soares motioned for her to stand, and she did, pacing in front of the map. “We need to head to China, mess up their supply.”

“China is far away from here. Even if we stop the production, they’ll only move it or find another solution,” Cole suggested.

Zhao grinned. “I may be able to help with the ‘getting there’ part.” He didn’t expand on the subject.

“There are options for the misters, which include destroying the plant, poisoning the supply, or adding a virus into it,” Soares suggested.

“Okay, so let’s say we do any of those things. What about the gateways? They can just up and leave,” Becca said.

“Don’t we want them to leave?” Alec asked, wondering what would be so bad about that.

“No. We want them to die,” Cole mumbled.

Soares ignored it. “Which takes us to the next issue. The gateways. If there are multiple, we cannot simply waltz into Detroit and destroy it.”

“We tried that already. Didn’t go so well,” Renata said, her voice rough and gravelly.

“I was thinking something a little more… covert is necessary,” Soares said. “If there are a bunch of these portals, they have to lead somewhere. A hub or nexus on the other side.”

Alec didn’t like it. “And then what? You destroy them?”

“Something like that,” Soares said.

“That’s all good, but we have no way of reaching the Gate, and we still don’t have confirmation about the other countries. We need to hold out for more information,” Zhao said, and Soares nodded his agreement.

“One thing we can agree on is the China factory where the misters are created. This is priority one. We need to decide which route we take, and how we get there,” Soares said. “Everyone in agreement?”

There was a chorus of agreement throughout the room, including from Alec, and he raised a hand. “If we find a way to modify the misters, and they start dying out, and we actually close the portals, do you think we can reclaim our world?”

The question seemed fairly innocuous, but there were layers of deep oppression rooted in it, and everyone in the room appeared affected by the thought of a real future.

Soares didn’t hesitate. “Damn right I think we can do this. We have strong, capable leaders out there we never knew existed until a few days ago. We’re not alone anymore. We’re not a group hiding along the west coast,” Soares glanced at Zhao, “and we’re not cowering under a mountain in the Rockies. We’re fighting. We will make Tom proud, and his legacy will live on forever.”

Alec swelled at the words, and even Cole seemed to perk up.

“But we have a long way to go, so let’s focus on the maps.” The captain turned to the maps, where dozens of pins sat in the UK and across France, and they began to plan their next steps.

* * *

Alec took the tablet and accessed the backdoor program Tom had used from the Tracker system, checking to see if the Hunter had seen any of their messages yet. Didn’t look like it.

“Damn it. We need to find out what’s going on over there,” he said, sliding the tablet to Izzy across the table. Their war room had emptied out after hours of planning and discussions. Alec was pleased with the way everything had gone, but Dex’s lack of responses were beginning to bother him.

Izzy ran a hand through her jet-black hair and leaned back, fiddling with the device. “Maybe he’s dead.”

Alec had thought the same thing, but Dex seemed to be one of the most capable men he’d ever seen. The way he’d talked to those guys outside the university on their trip to retrieve the datastick had been next level. Alec also recalled how easily he dispatched them. Dex wasn’t a man he’d want to cross, but he suspected the Hunter had acclimated into his new role with Hansen just fine.

“Doubt it. If you’d met him, you’d understand.” Alec was hungry, and he picked up a carrot stick, walking toward the window. The sun was setting and the air cooling. He slid it shut and leaned against the wall, watching Izzy Zhao stare at the tablet. Her eyes went wide. “What is it?”

“Dex. I mean… someone replied to your messages.” He rushed to her side and grabbed the device from her outstretched hand.

Finally have a way to talk. Mines in northern MI. Iron ore. Birdbrains only open gates for shipments.

Alec read it a few times over. “They’re mining iron.”

Izzy sighed. “It’s hard to believe they went to this much effort and spent so long only to take our iron.”

Alec shrugged, as it was impossible to understand their entire motivation.

What are they saying about us? He hit send, his fingers shaking as they waited for a reply.

Nothing really. As careless as usual.

Alec relaxed, smiling at Izzy. “That’s a good thing.”

Where are you?

The reply came quickly. Wisconsin. Might have more refugees coming your way.

Alec assumed he was on a mission for the other side, and instead of killing them, he was going to direct them to the west coast. He hated that he’d even second-guessed the man at any point.

Learn more about the mines and schedules. We have a plan. Alec send the note and didn’t get a reply.

“What do you think about our strategy?” Izzy asked him.

“I think it’s good until it isn’t and something goes wrong.”

“This won’t be easy.” Izzy stood, moving for the exit.

“When has it ever been?”

Chapter 5

Cole

He woke early, eyes open but body motionless as he tried to sort his memories. He lay on his back wearing a t-shirt soaked with sweat. Throwing the covers off his legs to combat the heat, he sat up on the edge of the cot and rubbed his face as he recalled that he was safely ensconced underground.

The source of his discomfort was the single UV heat lamp set up in the corner of his small room that bathed the inert form of the Tracker drone. The warm light recharged it through the splayed solar panels protruding from its flanks.

There was another knock on the door before it opened to reveal Soares entering and releasing the handle with his elbow to stand tall and reveal a cup held in each hand. Wordlessly, Cole reached out and took one, inhaling the aroma deeply before sipping the coffee and letting it diffuse into his cells to wake him fully.

“You good to go in five?” Soares asked him, earning a nod of agreement from Cole.

“Where are we off to?” he asked after he’d enjoyed another long pull of the dark liquid.

“Zhao has a little surprise to reveal. Not that I don’t know what it is, but hey, we all need a little amusement, am I right?”

Cole nodded again, not feeling like enjoying himself much. He hadn’t felt like that ever since the failed attack on the Gateway, when Tom, a man he’d only recently discovered to be his blood, threw his life away in a heroic attempt to rally the survivors of their race to fight the enemy.

Soares, evidently much closer to the man, was positive and smiling. Deep down, Soares was probably in as much turmoil as he was, but infinitely better at hiding it.

“You bringing that?” he asked, pointing at the sleeping drone. In response, Cole stood and stretched before setting down his cup and reaching to flick the power switch on the lamp. Seconds after the glow subsided, a whirring noise sounded from the Tracker as the panels folded and retracted before the start-up sequence woke it to fully alert. It stood, unfolding the legs it nestled on neatly, scanned the room with an economic turn of the head, and took two paces toward Cole to watch him.

“All right, I’m up,” he said to it, forgetting Soares was there for a second. The older man let out a tiny laugh of delight at Cole’s discussion with the machine before tossing the clothes laid over the chair at his young companion.

In contrast to the stuffy, overly warm interior of his room, the air out in the corridors was thinner and cooler, which gave way to a distinct chill when they reached the surface. Both Cole and Soares went armed, as if the prospect of a sudden and bloody encounter with the enemy was expected, but others walked around without a care.

He knew there were no ships or drones in the area thanks to the tablet he possessed, but that didn’t stop him taking it out again to double check.

A bark, low and throaty, sounded from ahead and made him peer through the rare mist surrounding the facility to see two figures approaching—one large and hulking, the other shorter and slim—before another shape streaked ahead of them, heading in his direction. Buddy circled his legs twice, letting him run his fingers over the coarse hair on his back, before he froze to sniff at the Tracker that stared blankly without interacting. The coyote sniffed at it once before issuing another growl and jerking nervously when the head turned up to Cole.

“Leave it be,” Lina’s voice sounded as she approached, lightly reprimanding their living companion for picking a fight with the robotic one. Before Cole could think of anything to say, the whine of an electric motor rose in pitch and volume until a buggy appeared through the fog with Monet behind the wheel and the unsmiling Zhao sitting beside her.

“Where are we going?” Lina asked, worried that she would need her gear after she expected a meeting in place of a mission.

“Not far,” Zhao said, giving a cold nod of greeting to Soares like the others were just children. Climbing aboard into the rear section and dealing with the awkward moment when Buddy snarled at the drone for stepping too close in the cramped space, they set off down a bumpy track that had once been a road.

They rose in altitude slightly, revealing a misty landscape stretching out toward a vast expanse of dark blue ahead of them and prompting more than one gasp as the sheer scale of the ocean was revealed to those not accustomed to the sight.

That view melted away into the fog again as they descended, bouncing over worse terrain until Cole worried that one of them would be thrown from the buggy When he was on the verge of mentioning that, she slowed and coasted the vehicle toward a rusted fence where two wide gates lay open, one hanging limp where it had been degraded either by the gradual passage of time or by some damage caused years before.

“You want to know how we get to China?” Zhao asked, climbing out to thump both boots onto the hard ground.

“I take it flying is off the table?” Lina asked.

“Depends on how much you like being shot down and drowning in the ocean,” Zhao answered in a tone Cole guessed the man thought was funny but actually wasn’t.

“Ever heard of a submarine?” Soares asked, glancing at Lina and Yas to include them in his explanation. They shook their heads. Zhao led them to the water’s edge and along a metal gantry where a dark shape hung in the water under the cover of a massive structure.

“Long ago, we had lots of these all over the world. This one was left here, and by some miracle, the reactor still operated after being stagnant for years. It was half submerged when my people found it, and it has no weapons, which is unfortunate, but here it is…”

The words swam in Cole’s head like the man had been speaking a different language.

“Surely there isn't enough fuel left to run a ship like this?”

“Boat,” Soares corrected. “The bubbleheads got real upset when you called them ships.”

“Bubble…”

“Anyway,” Zhao cut in. “It doesn’t use conventional fuel, but it has a reactor that charges batteries, and the batteries make it go.”

“I don’t understand,” Cole said, not sure which part he wasn’t sure about first, as most of it made no sense to him.

“You don’t need to know the specifics,” Zhao said, “just that it can get us to China underwater without being detected.”

“Under the water? Won't the people run out of air?” Lina asked, her mind running the same kind of calculations as Cole’s was and still not understanding.

“The air recycles, as does the water, so no. They don’t run out of air.”

“How long?” Soares asked.

“Almost seven thousand miles to China from here, assuming a straight line and a steady speed. This thing can supposedly pull twenty knots.”

“Twenty whats?” Cole asked.

“Knots. It’s like miles per hour only different,” Soares explained.

“Why don’t they say miles per hour, then?”

Soares shrugged as if he had never thought to ask and didn’t much care why. “Seven thousand miles, twenty miles an hour…”

“Three hundred,” Monet said, making everyone turn to her. She shrugged as if her display of mental arithmetic wasn’t impressive and added, “Give or take.”

“Two weeks?” Soares asked, unsure of his own internal calculations.

“Give or take,” Zhao agreed, echoing Monet’s words.

“You expect people to be underwater for two weeks in… in that?” Cole asked, pointing at the massive dark tube sitting half submerged in the water. “Does it even work?”

“Should do,” Zhao said, not filling Cole with confidence.

“I don’t know,” he said cautiously, worried that he would be asked to climb into a metal tube and go out on the ocean with only a guess and a shrug as assurance of his survival.

“If you have a better way,” Soares said, “let’s hear it.”

Dex

Dex woke with a start, his hand flying to the holster strapped to his chest, and he remembered he was safe. After spending weeks sleeping in the same facility as the Overseers, his nerves were shot, and he blinked away the fog, happy to be in the relatively comfortable bed of the rural Wisconsin farmhouse.

He was still dressed and realized he’d grown complacent himself. At Detroit, they’d had running water and showers. He was beginning to understand why the aliens didn’t seem to be bothered by much. They weren’t struggling. With the exception of whatever the hell the breathing devices did for them, all they had to do was bide their time and reap the spoils of the human world.

Dex imagined they’d up and leave once there was nothing useful for them, and if the building of the Gate had taken twenty-five years, he guessed their mining efforts might take at least that long. If the Reclaimers didn’t do something to stop the Occupation, the world would be destroyed, and the last of its people would be dead by then.

He went outside, using the water from an old rain barrel to wash up and rinse his face before throwing his shirt on and sliding into his leather jacket. The farm was a welcome sight after the constant thrumming of the Gate, the alien hovertanks, and ships.

Here it was peaceful, hundreds of miles from the nearest Occupation facility. The sun had risen above the distant rolling fields, which were bright yellow here; wild and untamed crops that hadn’t been tended in a long time. The once bright red barn was dull and sun worn, the domed roof half collapsed, and an old windmill still spun beside it as the breeze picked up.

He pushed thoughts about their recent predicaments away and treated this like a good old-fashioned hunt. Only he wasn’t killing anyone or returning them to the Occupation; he was going to set them free and direct them to safety. Hansen hadn’t asked for proof, so he’d been given a shot of luck.

Dex took a leak beside the house before grabbing his pack, rummaging for something to eat. How did Hansen and his cronies expect to survive this new world without food-processing plants? The damned aliens had seen to it that any human needs were no longer going to be met. Crops burned. Factories destroyed.

He opened the Occupation’s version of a granola bar and chewed it, finding it a little hard; slightly stale. Better than going hungry.

Thick white clouds hung in the sky, with the sun blocked behind them as he scoured the region with binoculars from his perch at the farmhouse. The land wasn’t as flat as the surrounding areas, and this particular farmer had chosen the highest point for his home, making Dex’s job simpler. From this vantage point, he saw the grid of side roads, all gravel and no lanes for miles in each direction. He doubted he’d even find a stop sign in the vicinity.

Down the overgrown path that led from the house to the caved-in barn were four silos, no longer shining in the daylight, but rusted from decades of rain and snow. Something moved in his peripheral sight, and he shifted the binoculars to spot the coyote. At first there was one, then he noticed more running through the tall grass, rustling the greenery as they hunted for something, likely rabbit.

“Time to go,” he told himself, and climbed into the borrowed car. It was light blue, with white stripes, the exact color he’d never choose for himself. The tones reminded him of the current cloudy skies.

But the engines rumbled to life with ease, and with the Overseers’ mods, the car didn’t need fuel. He rolled the windows open, using the old crank, and stuck his elbow out. The region’s agri-center was nearby, only a few miles, and Dex didn’t suspect the survivors would have gotten far.

The trip was quick, even though the drive was slow moving along the vegetation-covered gravel roads. Once he saw the old facility lot, Dex noticed the paved lanes leading away from it. The trucks hauling supplies in and out wouldn’t have fared well on these roads without new construction.

Everything was fenced here, tall chain link with barbed coils on the tops. The land was huge, and he couldn’t see the end of it from where he stopped along its outer edge. He kept driving, eventually turning onto pavement. It was in good shape still, and he increased his speed as he headed north toward the entrance.

Dex smelled the aftereffects of the fire as he guided the Camaro to the front gate, which hung wide open beside the empty guard tower. He wondered how many workers they would have had in a place this large, and estimated somewhere around a thousand. Even from here, he saw a line of farm equipment a quarter mile from where a structure stood, half burned.

Dex drove through the gate, imagining the attack. The first body came into view soon after, then another, and another, each of them shredded from the powerful ammunition the Tracker drones were loaded with. The closer he drove to the main residence, the more corpses littered the ground, and he rolled his window up as the smell grew overpowering.

This was it. This was what everything came down to. Aliens coming to Earth for their iron, using people for manual labor, then disposing of them like they were nothing. Everything about the bastards was so casual, so unemotional, and Dex gripped the steering wheel hard as he kept driving, forcing himself to look at the bodies as he went.

Where had the survivors gone? He’d wanted to visit here first, assuming they’d all vacated, but needed to get into their headspace before tracking them down. He swallowed his emotions and turned the car around, feeling as though he had enough to work with. These innocent people worked relentlessly to create food for the Occupation, and one cruel decision had ended their lives.

A few glints of the sun peeked through the clouds, reflecting off something small and round to his right. He grinned when he saw it was a Seeker drone. Then he spotted a Tracker bashed to pieces. So they had fought back. At least a little. That made him want to help the survivors even more.

With purpose, Dex pressed his foot to the pedal, screeching from the site. There would be hundreds of facilities like this around the country, maybe thousands around the world, and it all sickened him. How could he return to Hansen and say he had ended their lives? How could he even pretend it was true?

He slowed before pulling to the side of the road, and he unfolded a paper map from the glovebox. He’d found it in the farmhouse, and he ran a finger along the trail, seeking a water source. And there it was, a small lake ten miles away. He was sure that was where they’d gone.

The paved road curved in the opposite direction he wanted to go after another half mile, moving toward an interstate, but Dex hugged the right side, dropping onto the rocky surface of the back way. He slowed, the trip taking longer than he expected, and twice he needed to turn around because the roads were in too rough a shape. Once, he encountered a massive oak tree lying over the road, and there was no moving that by himself.

Eventually, as the sun hung high in the sky, he neared the lake, and he stopped along the treeline, opting for some reconnaissance before barging in like a mad man. These people were going to be scared, and their fear would make them desperate. From his experience, desperation made people dangerous.

Dex checked his Glock, grabbed his binoculars, and scooted out of the car, shutting the door quietly. The air was musty here, the lake probably stagnant from the recent summer heat. It wasn’t a large one, and he hoped the survivors had found some kind of water purification if they were drinking it.

He slapped away a mosquito buzzing near his ear, and stopped as the trees opened up, showing him the body of water. There was a plume of smoke rising from the opposite end of the lake, and he grinned. “Gotcha,” he whispered, his gaze steady through the binoculars.

“I don’t think so, buddy.” Dex knew the sound of a gun being cocked, and he dropped the binocs, throwing his hands in the air. For a split second, he considered grabbing for his Glock, but thought better of it as he turned slowly.

“It’s not what you think,” Dex said, seeing three guns aimed at him. The closest man was thickset. A heavy beard covered his chin, and he spat on the ground.

“Looks to me like a Hunter has tracked us. Am I about right?” the man asked.

“Then it is what you think, but I’m here to help you.” Dex was sweating bullets. He hadn’t survived this long only to be shot dead by a scared farmer. “My name’s Dexter Lambert, and I can help you find a safe zone.”

The woman laughed and kicked at a rock. “There ain’t nowhere safe no more, friend.” She was ten years his senior, lean as a pole, but she had fire in her eyes.

“That’s true, but at least you can help fight the Overseers from there,” Dex said, catching a spark on the face of the second man. He was short, half bald and he squinted deeply.

“How can we fight them? Did you see what they done to our farm?” the woman asked.

He nodded slowly. “I also saw what you did to those drones. This group. They need able bodies, and truth be told, they probably need farmers right now. We’re working on stopping the Occupation once and for all, and we need people like you to restart,” Dex said, wondering if he was selling it a little too hard.

“How can we trust a Hunter?” the first man asked, stroking his beard with his left hand. Dex thought it was a good sign the rifle had been lowered and was no longer aimed at his face. More bugs hovered near his head, but Dex let them land on his forehead, worried that a sudden movement would get him killed.

“Want the truth?” Dex asked.

The woman nodded. “That’d be nice.”

“I am a Hunter, and have been for some time. I’ve worked on the wrong side of the Occupation, I’ll admit it, but I was just like you. I was on the working side, and when they offered a chance to live better, I took it. I’ve come to regret it, but at the time, I didn’t think there was much of a choice. I’ve recently met the Reclaimers, a group hellbent on fighting back, and that’s what I’m doing now.” Dex sighed and breathed easier as the other two lowered their weapons.

“What you say, Bernie? Let him live?” the woman asked.

The bearded man grinned, showing a couple missing teeth. “How about you come break bread with us, and tell us about these friends of yours.”

Chapter 6

Fan

Every day was the same for Fan. He woke before the rising of the sun, used the bathrooms to have a tepid shower among the other workers, and dressed in the white jumpsuit before eating a bowl of unsatisfying lumpy beige food. He wasn’t sure it was really food. Conditions had been bad before, but the quality was even worse now, and Fan didn’t expect things to improve any time soon.

Fan would eventually take his spot along the conveyer belt, where he’d connect the caps on the devices the aliens used to stay healthy within Earth’s atmosphere.

Fan held one, the conveyor moving slowly today, and inspected it. It was flat, half as wide as his hand, and about four inches tall. He placed the top to it, clicking into place, and he set it to the belt, where it drifted away to the final boxing station.

This seemed like a role a robot could fulfill, but for some reason, the aliens kept humans on assembly. Fan didn’t even speculate why; he just assumed it was working for them, so why bother to change the process?

Supervisor Li was walking through the white-floored room, his bootsteps loud in the otherwise quiet work environment, and Fan waved for his attention.

“Fan.” The man didn’t even look up from his tablet. Li was older, maybe fifty, and his face was perpetually scrunched into a scowl. Fan doubted he could even smile if he tried.

“Can I be excused. I have a…” He pointed to his stomach and Li nodded.

“Be quick.”

Things had changed in the last few weeks since they’d seen the video. Biyu claimed a hidden message had been deciphered inside the transmission, but they couldn’t let Li know. He worked for them, and he might spill the beans.

She maintained there was a group of resistance, and they’d left a way to contact them.

Fan walked out of the room, past an armed human who paid him no mind, and toward the bathroom. When he glanced around, seeing no one was watching, he darted to the far wall, hugging it as he moved toward the next door. Fan pressed through and stared at the giant vats inside. The lights were down low, the concoctions in the large metal drums were being mixed, and that was the only noise inside the space.

Fan’s idea was sound, but he needed a radio, and that might prove more difficult to acquire. It should be in here, though, and he was essentially risking his life on that fact.

“Over here.” He heard Biyu’s gentle voice and saw her beside an office door at the other end of the concrete floor.

He ran along the wall, glancing up to see if he was remaining out of the camera lines. He followed Biyu into the office.

“Where’s Chan?” he asked.

Biyu’s eyes danced. “It’s surprising what the promise of a kiss will do to these men.”

Fan frowned but shook the image from his mind. “Is this it?”

The device was unfamiliar to him. It was a black box, dials spread along the front, digital displays at the right side. Biyu already had the headphones on, big ones that covered her entire ears, and she fiddled with the dials. “We need to match the transmission codes from the video.”

Fan had memorized the details, and he entered them, Biyu smiling wide.

She spoke a few words, and her eyes went wide. Fan assumed there was a reply.

“They speak in English only. I knew we should have brought the old one… Wei.” She spoke again, and there was a pause. “I think they’ll find someone who speaks… Hello, Gregory Zhao. My name is Biyu, and I’m here with Fan, and we work in a manufacturing plant in Shanghai. Yes, we are alive. Yes, we are still operating. No, I can’t confirm if there’s a… gateway.” She frowned, shrugging at Fan. He wished he could hear the other side of the conversation.

“Tell him about the vats,” Fan whispered, checking through the pane of glass on the office door. So far, he hadn’t seen any movement.

“Yes. We work with a device that helps the aliens… Overseer? Is that what you call them? Yes. That’s them… Misters? Yes. Those are the ones.”

Fan tapped his foot impatiently, wondering if this would really work.

“They’re in America. But they are sending people here.” Biyu’s eyes were huge, a smile on her face. “Yes, Mr. Zhao. We have access to the formula. Yes, we can assist you. Two weeks? We will do what we can.” Biyu gave the man any landmarks she could around them, and Fan hoped it was enough for them to find the facility.

“It will be difficult to talk again, but we will try. Yes. We have to go. Okay.” Biyu removed the headphones, and Fan rotated the dials, hoping it didn’t track the outgoing transmissions.

“Did we do it?” Fan asked, at least catching their half of the conversation.

“We did.”

Now they only needed to figure out how they could make contact when the time came.

Sylvie

“Keep quiet over there,” Sylvie whispered from behind the tree trunk. The sap was sticky, and it clung to her fingertips, even after she wiped it off on her jeans.

Maxime looked guilty, and she regretted agreeing to let the young man join her and Gabriel on the challenging mission. The Reclaimers were asking them to do reconnaissance on Europe, and so far, all rumors and clues from any of her outposts directed her to southern Spain. There were huge composites of iron and other minerals down there, and she’d even heard of a possible gateway in Morocco.

Surprisingly enough, the roads along Spain’s east coast were quiet, no sign of the Occupation other than the odd drone. They’d stopped at the outskirts of Barcelona, seeing the charred remains of one of their previous supply chain hubs. The Reclaimers were right about one thing: the aliens were done with mankind.

Their modified scooters were quiet but required solar charging more often than Sylvie would have liked. The one-hundred-and-fifty-kilometer trip had taken four days so far, but considering things, she was willing to accept the slower traveling. Regardless of that, there were still dangers out here, and she sought the skies, looking for the round floating drones used by the Occupation.

“I don’t see anything,” Maxime said. “Can we go?”

“I don’t see them either, but listen… what’s that buzzing?” Gabriel asked, and it reached Sylvie’s ears right after he mentioned it.

“I hope it’s nothing,” she whispered, but reached for her rifle anyway. She’d heard the Reclaimers had managed to garner control of their drones, so had the man named Jack from the UK, and she wished they’d had the same level of success. The truth was, there weren’t as many in France as there appeared to be in other nations, especially Spain. So far, they’d hid half a dozen times, slowing their travel.

But it was something, and Sylvie caught a glint of sunlight off the drone’s shiny hull a mile off. It was originating from inland, moving toward the coastline where they were sitting in a copse of trees. The highway was a quarter mile away, and they’d be unable to outrun the flying drone, even if they made it to their scooters charging by the road.

Gabriel pressed his fingers to his lips, and she saw the other robot. It stalked along the road on four legs and stopped directly across from their position. It was a small dot from this far out, but Sylvie noticed its tiny head tilt as it turned to face them.

“Shit. They have us,” Maxime said, maybe too loudly.

Gabriel motioned to leave, and Sylvie tugged on his arm. “What are you doing?”

“Saving the mission. You two continue. I’ll distract these damned bots.” Gabriel was slightly older than her, thin and wiry, but strong. He still wouldn’t stand a chance against the drones alone.

She shook her head. “We do this as always. Together.” Adam had demanded they separate all those trips ago, and it had gotten him killed. She wasn’t going to lose Gabriel too.

He met her gaze, and she saw the acceptance in his eyes. “Fine. But we have to be quick. Max, you and Sylvie get the Flyer. I’ll take on the Wolf.”

She rose, gripping the rifle tightly, and they waited for the drones to draw nearer. If they were fast, there would be no transmission time, and that was imperative.

The Wolf was trotting along slowly, casually sniffing at the air. The movement felt too organic for the bot, but she wasn’t there to study the thing. She was there to end it.

Sylvie had three fingers up on her left hand, and she dropped one, then the other, until finally the last, and all three of them burst from the cover, firing at the incoming attackers.

Max’s first shot went wide, but Sylvie’s rang true. The Flyer spun, smoking as it began to float lower. She heard Gabriel’s shotgun but didn’t have time to see if he stuck the shot. She rushed toward the injured Flyer, planted her feet, took quick aim, and fired, hitting it on the underbelly. It sparked and crashed to the ground beside the dog-like drone.

The barrel of the gun from the dog’s back was smoking as it fired toward Gabriel, and the shotgun blast hit it at the same time as her bullet. It paused and dropped to the ground, legs spread out.

Sylvie grinned, scanning the skies and ground for more, and when she saw the coast was clear, she turned to her friends to celebrate. Maxime was kneeling beside Gabriel, his hands covered in blood.

“He’s dead…”

Sylvie rushed to them, but it was quickly obvious her counterpart was deceased. “Damn it.” Gabriel’s eyes were wide open, his stomach wound bleeding profusely. She pulled Maxime to her, hugging the shocked young man.

“Get your things. We need to leave.”

Jack

Jack Paulson hated to abandon his home of the last decade, but it was time. He took one last look of his Barony from the tower, and saw the thousands of people rushing about, preparing for their trip. His eyes drifted to the three alien vessels parked along the outskirts of their property, and he smiled as he recalled obtaining them in the early years.

He wondered how long the aliens lived, and if they’d procreated during their time on Earth. Were they even fighting the same batch that had originally arrived, or were these a whole new generation? It was difficult to fight a war with an enemy you knew next to nothing about.

Benji was with the other kids, filing on to the third warship where they would be escorted to northern Norway. It was as far away from the Occupation as they could get, with no mines, gateways, or aliens for hundreds of miles. Their group had over four hundred children under the age of sixteen, and they were the ones moving out first, with thirty elderly and a handful of guards.

If anything were to happen to Jack and the others from the Barony, this was their legacy to the world. They had implicit directions on what to do, and perhaps, if Jack failed, his son would lead humanity to a fresh start one day. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

“Are you ready?” Ava asked, her hands finding his waist as she hugged him from behind.

“I want you to go with Benji,” Jack said.

“You know I can’t.”

“But…”

“We have to be good to our word. The other parents are going through the same thing. We’re going to war, Jack. Simple as that.”

He turned and kissed her. “Then I guess I’d better make sure we win, right?”

“Right.”

The door creaked open, and Jack’s gaze was drawn to Daniel as he entered. The room used to have a dozen computers and twice as many monitors, but it was bereft of anything the Occupation could use to track them now. “Boss, we have contact with Choolwe.”

“And?”

“He’s confirmed the gateway in Zambia. The mines are massive.” Daniel’s face was pale.

“Okay. Send word to the Masons. We have confirmation of the Gate. Tell them we’re coming on their word.” Jack walked with his beautiful wife toward the tower’s exit, and he hoped the twin’s plan was going to work.

It had to.

Chapter 7

Lina

Lina sat and fidgeted in the chair she was offered, spinning side to side.

Her head swam with so many facts that she struggled to keep up and catalogue everything. Only a short time ago, her world existed inside a single valley. Her life had been a simple one, and subsequent events had made her regret each and every time she wanted to see more of the world.

By now, she’d seen more than enough. More than she wanted to.

The Gateway in Detroit was only one of several on the planet, and that knowledge undermined her spirit more than anything else. She held out a youthfully optimistic hope that they could combine to destroy that one portal to the alien world, but to learn that there were more on other continents deflated her very soul.

“Are you listening?” Doctor Parvati asked, pulling her consciousness into the room.

“Sorry,” she apologized meekly with hunched shoulders. “My head was in the clouds.”

“Speaking of clouds,” the doctor said, unoffended by her momentary absence, “seeing that we can’t mass produce something to kill them, how about we focus on these?” she said, holding up one of the alien misters.

“Are we sure this is the right way?” she asked, her eyes finding an elder of one of the villages she’d rescued. “I mean, wiping them all out like this? Can’t we, I dunno, make them not work so they’re forced to go home?”

“Our people are no strangers to genocide, Lina,” the elder reminded her gently. She wasn’t sure if he meant humans or her own people, deciding it didn’t much matter, as their species had been on both sides of that particular coin before.

“You mean hijack their stores or render them inert and issue an ultimatum for them to leave?” Parvati asked as she focused on the task of disassembling the mister.

“Why not? That could work, right?”

“I’m sure it would,” Parvati said, prompting a smile that her next words wiped clean from Lina’s face. “Until they bring more through their gateway and make sure to protect their process against all attacks. It’s admirable, if not slightly naïve.”

The other scientist in the room, a quiet woman who spent much of the time hiding, placed a reassuring hand on Lina’s shoulder.

“She’s right,” she said. “We need to kill them; otherwise, this will all be for nothing.”

“Which brings us back to the question of how,” Parvati asked, putting down the mister and spinning her own chair to move to another workstation where she could press her eye to a small tube and turn dials with her fingers.

“The tissue samples from the prisoner have yielded some interesting results, but I’d like to concentrate on the blood. Don’t suppose you found any hematologists on your travels? No? Anyway, it makes logical sense given the physiology of a mammal to attack it on a respiratory level, doubly so when we consider these things have a problem with our atmosphere.”

“Which is?” the elder asked.

“Given that the only identifiable substances in their inhaler devices are nitrogen and carbon dioxide, it makes sense that our environment is too oxygen rich for them. Ironic, really.”

“Why?” Lina asked.

“Why what?”

“Why is it ironic?”

Parvati chuckled and rubbed at her cheeks with both hands before she answered. “I forget sometimes how few of us there are from before. My dear, for the last ten years and more before they showed up, we were on some global mission to stop polluting the air. It was all about rising sea levels, melting polar ice caps and global warming, when in fact, had we known, we could’ve told the world to stop polluting the atmosphere, so the air would remain toxic to an advanced alien species. I’m sure that would’ve been more effective than parading angry children in the media.”

The room fell silent after she spoke, as none of the others recalled much of what she was talking about.

“I’ll need more blood from it,” Parvati said again as she resumed peering into the tube. “Pass me that virus sample?” she added, holding out a hand wiggling her fingers in the air to hurry it up.

“Is it safe doing that?”

“Doing what? Using viruses? I assure you none of what we’re using here is fatal to us. Sadly, we don’t have any of the really good stuff left.”

“Good stuff?” Lina asked, confused and a little worried.

“We used to have an organization here that specialized in nasty biological threats. They had samples of everything. Ebola, Marburg, rabies, smallpox, HIV, Covid-19… everything you’d need to wipe out mankind.”

“Why would we…”

“You need to dissect what something is so you can test against it. It seems backwards, I know,” Parvati said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“So we could kill ourselves by using a virus?” Lina asked cautiously.

“Not if we use something that isn't lethal to us, with the obvious exceptions of the very old and the very young and others at risk of reduced immune system issues.”

“So… so how about we make them all sick, then we can send them home and close the gate?” Lina asked hopefully. Parvati gave her a sympathetic look before he spoke.

“My dear girl, I doubt you ever came into contact with the world’s most deadly and debilitating influenza, did you? The M4N influenza strain?”

The elder chuckled, making Lina even more confused.

“Man flu,” Parvati said. “Trust me, if we give them man flu, they’ll be begging to go home for chicken noodle soup and their own beds.”

“So…” Lina said, not getting the joke, “how do we give it to them?”

“We have to find out if they can catch it first,” Parvati said, picking up a small metal tray bearing a syringe. “Which is why we need more blood from that thing.”

* * *

It was terrified, that much was obvious. The way it shrieked and cowered in the corner of the cell when people entered the room made Lina’s chest ache even after everything the aliens had done to her and the planet.

“It seems to have regained some strength,” Parvati said, raising her voice over the noise it made. It chattered and chirped in rattling clicks that interspersed words none of them understood.

“It’s frightened,” Lina said.

“Damn thing should be,” one of the guards in the room snarled, banging a long baton against the bars to intensify the frightened noises.

“Thank you,” Parvati said with undisguised disapproval of the man’s actions. “Is it possible to contain it without causing harm?” The man turned to his counterpart in the room and nodded. The two of them went to either side of the cell and turned handles to wind the rear wall toward the front like some huge vise and force the alien out of the furthest corner.

It shrieked and clicked desperately as it tried to push back against the wall and keep its distance from the humans, but the mechanics were stronger than it.

Lina knew she’d be petrified of the cell crushing her if she was treated like that, and in spite of everything the aliens had done to them, she couldn’t help but feel bad for being there to witness this mistreatment.

“Stop,” she said, repeating the word louder. “Stop!”

The wall ceased moving and the shrieking died down. She stepped forward and rolled up her sleeve, making eye contact with the creature before shoving her arm through the gap furthest away from where it cowered.

“What does it eat?” she asked quietly without breaking eye contact.

“We’ve been giving it vegetables,” a guard answered. “But we keep it hungry so it doesn’t build up the strength to escape.”

“Hand me one.” Her words were obeyed, and she stepped closer to the alien to see the flash of recognition and hunger in its eyes as the handful of baby corn in her hand came into view. It hesitated, twitching its head left and right at the guards in fear.

“It’s okay,” she said, still maintaining eye contact. “Back away.”

Slowly, patiently, she coaxed the creature to stick a nervous hand out through the gap and snatch the single piece of offered food. It retreated fast, chomping on the corn like a desperate animal before inching forward again for more. Each time, she persuaded it to put its arm further and further out until she began touching the alien’s skin with her own and feeling the faint electricity passing between their bodies. On the third time she touched it, the alien didn’t recoil and chatter at her but stayed with long fingers extended to try and reach the food.

She grasped the wrist, tightening her grip slowly so it wasn’t a shock, and began to hand the rest of the food through another gap to its other hand rapidly.

“Now, Doctor,” she whispered. “Quickly.”

Parvati was smooth and fast with the needle, sliding it into the alien’s skin and the vein beneath with barely a reaction as it was distracted by eating as fast as it could with the other hand until a shift in position made the needle touch something inside that caused it to shriek away from the wall.

They turned to leave the cell, Lina looking over shoulder to address the guards as she waved the last remaining carrot in her hand.

“This or the stick,” she said. “Maybe try this first next time.”

Chapter 8

Alec

“I see you’ve been enjoying yourself,” Alec told his brother, greeting him at the east entrance near the forest’s edge. Soares trailed behind him, and a few of the Freeborn were grouped together, carrying two deer carcasses.

“Zhao wants food, we’ll find food.” Cole grinned. Buddy sniffed at Alec’s hand, as if seeking a treat, and continued to enter the fence line.

Soares patted Alec on the shoulder as he passed by him. “Any update on the virus?”

“Parvati thinks she’ll have it ready by tomorrow or the next day,” Alec told them.

“Good. Good.”

“It still leaves us with the decision on who’s going,” Alec said.

“It’ll be me. I’ll do it,” Cole said, settling to an old picnic table near a storage facility. The Freeborn kept moving, taking their prizes to their camp a half mile away. Cole waved to them and grinned. “Those guys can hunt with me any day. One of those deer was felled with an arrow. Can you believe that?”

“Don’t change the subject. You really think you should be traipsing off to China?” Alec asked, not wanting to be separated from his brother so soon.

“Sure. Why not?” Cole’s expression once again turned dark, and it was clear he was carrying a lot of anger.

“Look, Tom’s dead, and I get that you’re upset about it, but don’t take it out on me.”

“I’m not taking anything out on you. You asked who was doing it, and I said I was. Simple as that.”

“You don’t know anything about a submarine,” Alec said.

Soares stepped a foot onto the table’s bench and leaned in. “Cole, I think you have another mission.”

He squinted into the sun and stared toward the older man. “I do?”

Alec had been waiting for Soares to bring this up again. “I need to shut the gates down, and there’s no one I trust more at my side than you, son.”

Alec bristled at the man’s casual use of the word, maybe because Soares never used it in reference to him. “We have no plan.”

“Lambert will get us the information we need on the ore delivery schedule, and in we go. To the hub. I’ll make sure we shut it down somehow,” Soares said.

“And how are you going to return?” Alec asked.

Soared shook his head. “You let me worry about that.”

“Fine. If you and Cole are leaving for Detroit, who’s going with Monet to China?” Alec asked.

“I am.” Lina stepped closer, her hand in the air. Buddy sauntered over to her, playfully rubbing his head on her leg. She pulled some meat from a pocket and passed it to the coyote, and he took the offering to the shade behind the table, chewing it noisily.

Cole stood as she approached. “You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“Because… I don’t think it's safe.”

“I didn’t realize you were the authority on where I go or don’t go,” she said, standing closer to him.

“I’m not… I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Cole said, and Alec knew there was more than a friend’s concern behind his tone.

“Tom thought I was strong enough to go with Monet the first time, so I think he’d want us to team up again,” Lina said.

“It’ll be two weeks underwater. And that thing might never make it,” Cole said, and Alec remained silent as they went through the paces.

“We’ll be fine. Parvati is nearly ready. We have contact with Shanghai, and all we need to do is a handoff. Our contact will do the rest,” she said.

Alec couldn’t imagine being under the ocean for that long, and he was glad he was staying here. Until they needed the distraction. It was going to be dangerous, but at least he had the assistance of Jack Paulson. The timing had to be perfect.

“Are you sure?” Cole asked Lina, and she took his hands.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay. We’re on the same page,” Soares said. Judging by his expression, the captain had been guessing this was the eventuality the whole time.

The shadows were growing long as the sun began to set, and Alec suggested they grab some dinner and talk about it. Cole made an excuse, saying he needed to wash up, and he’d meet them there in a bit. Lina stared after him, and Alec walked beside the woman.

“He’s only worried about you,” Alec told her.

“He needs to worry about himself. I’m fine on my own,” she said, and Alec wasn’t going to argue with her. She was strong-willed, and Alec wondered if the two of them were ever going to realize they were perfect for each other.

Izzy was inside the mess hall, and Becca sat beside her. Zhao was there too, sitting across from his daughter, and Monet rounded out the group.

“We were just talking about you,” Alec told Monet as he sat beside her.

“Is that so?”

“Lina will be joining you,” Alec said.

“Good. I can use the extra set of common sense,” Monet said, smiling at Lina.

Zhao cut a baked potato as he watched the conversation, and finally spoke before taking a bite. “I checked the location of the latest mister shipment using Trent James’ datastick links.”

Alec’s ears perked up. “And?”

“And it’s heading for Spain before coming to the US. I think we need to stop the supply. It will make it all the more imperative they use the new supply run of misters once we have added our special ingredients to the batch,” Zhao said between chews.

“When does that shipment depart Shanghai?” Soares asked.

“In a week. They’re using hovercars to transport them, since the human population is no longer an option.”

“A week.” Alec wondered how the heck they were going to interrupt a hovercar delivery in Spain in a week.

“Sylvie is close, but we’ll need to back her up,” Zhao said.

“Jack isn’t too far from her. Do you think we could make it to Spain without being discovered?” Alec asked.

“If that’s the case, why the hell am I going to China in a damned submarine?” Monet asked.

Soared shook his head. “We think there’s a path to Europe that doesn’t fall above any of their current sites.”

Zhao was frowning, his mouth half full as he spoke. “But we don’t know for sure.”

“Listen, everything about this is a gamble. We’re going for the win here, not second place. Because second place means death.” Soares rapped his knuckles on the tabletop.

Alec thought about who would lead the Spain mission, and he guessed he’d just found his next job. “Becca, how do you feel about flying me to Spain?”

Dex

He’d waited too long already, but the survivors in Wisconsin weren’t overly keen on leaving the area. He was tired of trying to talk them into it, but he couldn’t let them stay, in case Hansen didn’t believe Dex had hunted them all down.

“Bernie, I’m telling you, it’s your best bet.” Dex was on the porch of the log cabin near the lake with the big bearded man, who was hardly paying attention as he whittled the end of the stick into a sharp point.

The tablet beside him vibrated, and Dex picked it up, seeing the information he’d been waiting for. He’d programmed it to advise him when the next scheduled ore delivery was leaving Michigan so Soares could investigate the shipment.

Bernie was glancing over his shoulder, and Dex turned to block his view as he typed a message in the hidden program that would reach the twins. Next ore leaves mine noon four days from now. He sent it and stared out at the calm water.

“We’d better get moving then,” Bernie said.

“What?”

“To this place on the west coast.”

“Good. What changed your mind?” Dex asked.

“I can tell you’re a good man, Hunter. I wouldn’t want to see you in any sort of trouble,” Bernie said.

“Thank you. I’m only trying to do my part.” He suddenly had a craving for a cigarette and a beer. It was something about the ambience of the lake, the sun setting, and the frogs croaking softly.

Bernie gathered the others and discussed leaving in the morning, and Dex saw the reply come through late at night.

We’ll be there – Cole

Chapter 9

Cole

Next ore leaves mine noon four days from now.

The message flashing up on Cole’s tablet surprised him. He read it over and over, rolling each word around inside his brain, picking it apart in search of any reason not to trust the Hunter.

Is he on our side? Truly?

Cole couldn’t fathom how the man, if he was really on their side, could just stand and watch as that bastard executed Tom. Logic reminded him that he was following Tom’s orders, but they were instructions that neither he nor Alec would’ve followed. He doubted even if Soares would have done his duty and obeyed the orders from his commanding officer to watch him be murdered to fuel the fire.

Fearful of betrayal or not, Cole couldn’t ignore the intelligence the man fed to them. This was the key, Soares had been certain of it. This was how they crept inside the belly of the beast and killed it from the inside.

As if thinking of the man had conjured him from thin air, Soares appeared opposite bearing a tray of food and swung his legs over the bench in turn to sit with an involuntary groan of a man who seemed to have been born with an aching back.

“What’s the scoop?” he asked, nodding at the tablet. Cole turned it around to show him, seeing his eyebrows rise before a cruel smirk spread across his mouth.

“Perfect,” he said, handing over the tablet.

“Why is that perfect? And why aren’t you concerned it’s a trap?”

“It’s a trap!” Soares mocked in a strange voice before chuckling to himself. Seeing Cole’s confusion, he composed himself. “Wrong crowd. Anyway, why are you worried it’s a trap?”

“Because,” Cole said sullenly, not wanting to get into it with Soares again about Tom’s death.

“Because he was on the wrong side? Newsflash, kid, half the people here were on the wrong side if you think about it. That side didn’t starve to death or didn’t have the bravery to cut their hands off. That side was survival, and yeah, I guess some of them enjoyed it, but I don’t think Dex is one of them. Tom didn’t either, so you should respect that.” He shrugged as if deciding that he’d made his point and picked up a fork to start digging at the mashed potato on his plate, mixing in the peas.

“So we blindly trust him?”

“Your brother traveled with him. Saw what Dexter did to the guards in Nebraska. Alec seems to think the guy is all right.”

Cole poked at his cold food. “And when we show up there to find a bunch of them waiting for us, what then?”

“Then we die a glorious death surrounded by our own brass,” Soares said through a mouthful and with no sense of comedy.

“I’m serious,” Cole said, pushing his own food away, as his appetite had abandoned him.

“So am I, but I’m not as blindly trusting as you might think.”

“Explain,” Cole said.

“Four days from now? That fits. We have good intelligence that says the Gateway opens no more than twice a week, but it’s not like they keep a regular schedule. Four days would put it about the same as last week. We have people who were at the mines here, and they saw how much they were bringing out and stockpiling. We’re confident this shipment’s going to Detroit.”

Cole said nothing as he watched the older man dig at his food and shovel another fork load into his mouth before he’d finished the last. He tried out a number of things in his mind before he said them, but nothing came out because he couldn’t find the words. Every question he asked threw four more back at him.

“We could be on that shipment, you know…”

“How? Why?”

Soares shrugged again and chewed as his eyes searched Cole’s face for something. When he finally swallowed, he reached for the tin mug to wash it down before he answered.

“What do you think the Gateway is?” he asked seriously.

“A… a portal. Something like a door, that opens to their world and not another room.”

“Right, and you think it’s just a door? A way between two places?”

Cole shrugged, not sure where Soares was taking the conversation.

“We all assumed that, right? I mean, why would anyone believe differently? But then we found out about the other gateways.”

“And?”

“And the eggheads started going crazy about it. Multiple gateways imply what they’re calling a nexus theory.”

“A what now?”

Soares leaned further over the table and spoke in a low, rushed voice.

“It’s like a subway system, right? There’s these lines going out to everywhere, but they all end up at one main place. Metro Center in D.C. You understand?”

“No,” Cole said, frowning to remind the man that he’d only ever been on a train once in his life, and it wasn’t an experience he was eager to repeat. Soares shook his head and tried again.

“Red line, silver line, orange, blue… they head to separate locations, but they all go back to the same spot. We’re calling it Grand Central, which is lazy, but what the hey. Anyway, point is, we reckon these gateways have a home base. A nexus. A… a hub.”

“So all the gateways lead to this hub?”

“That’s the theory.”

“And you want to risk our lives on a theory?”

“We’re risking our lives eating breakfast, kid,” Soares said darkly. “You think there’s a version of this where everyone comes out on top? Sacrifices may need to be made; that’s how it is and that’s how it’s always been. No risk means no reward.”

Cole bridled a little at the implied assault on his courage but didn’t overreact.

“So what? You want to stowaway on the shipment to see your hub? Why don’t we just load it with explosives like the train?”

“Throw a grenade in the dark and hope for the best? That’s not how this works. What if it’s our only shot and we waste the chance?” Cole agreed but was still too confused and sullen to admit it out loud.

“Come on, kid. Haven’t you ever wanted to see more of the world?”

“Our world, yeah… you really think this could work?”

“Better than throwing a train packed with explosives at a heavily defended gateway with reinforced guards expecting another brute force attack, yeah.”

“And you expect me to come with you on alien safari and see if we can blow something up?”

“When you put it like that,” Soares said awkwardly, “…yeah.”

Cole shrugged. If Lina was travelling in an ancient submarine and he didn’t have a say in the matter, then he was going through the Gateway. He picked up the tablet and slowly, deliberately typed a reply before sighing heavily through his nose before hitting send.

We’ll be there - Cole

He flashed the message to Soares, seeing the older man smile deviously. That was the first time he’d seen what was written on the battered tin mug Soares drank from. The words were chipped and faded but the message remained. It read, “You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helps.”

Chapter 10

Lina

She was a little sad that they left in darkness, rising before the dawn and stealing away in the dark without the chance to say goodbye to anyone. She felt a pang in her chest that she didn’t get to offer a real farewell to some people. Yas stood proudly, saying that he would accompany her to the lands across the sea, but he’d been convinced to stay.

Many of the Freeborn looked to the big man and her for leadership, including a lot of their elders who found themselves lost in the new world they now inhabited. She’d tried to tell him that the submarine, which she’d been inside of the previous day, would be excruciating for the man to occupy. Every doorway was too small, every ceiling felt like it was pressing down on her, so she worried for his sanity if he had to spend days on end in those conditions.

Monet intervened eventually and told him there was no way he was coming. He swelled his chest and demanded to know who would protect Lina, but before Monet could inform him that she’d done just fine before he showed up, Lina put him them both in their places and stated she didn’t need anyone to keep her safe.

She regretted her words now and wished that she had a friend with her. Even a sullen coyote would’ve made her feel calm about climbing into the open hatch and feeling the cold metal of the ladder’s rungs against her hands.

The sub was crewed by around a hundred people, all men, and Gerard, the old man running it, bragged that he’d once gone two hundred days without seeing daylight. Lina didn’t think that was something to be proud of, but other questions pushed that comment aside.

“What happened to the military?” she asked. “When the aliens first came.” He stopped and sighed sadly, resting a hand over his face as if accessing some vault of emotion he’d been tricked into unlocking.

“Our lads fought back, obviously,” Gerard answered. “They blew our fly boys outta the sky like they was nothin’.” He patted the wall—apparently called a bulkhead inside the dark metal tube—and sighed again. “These babies threw everything they had at them. Cruise missiles, even nukes. You name it.”

“It didn’t work?”

“Sure, some of them broke through well enough, but almost everything was shot down. The next fire came from the birdy bastards took out the boats that fired them. Surface ships plummeted in minutes with no time to react, like a worldwide Pearl, you know?” Lina had no idea what he meant but felt his emotion so keenly that she nodded.

“I only survived because I was on shore leave,” Gerard said. “Remember sitting on a train and watching it all happen out the window. Never made it home… How ‘bout you?”

“I… I was born after,” Lina said.

“Sorry,” Gerard answered with his eyes cast at the floor—the deck—before lifting his head to show the false smile of being okay. “Force of habit, you know? Asking folks about before… anyway, we found this old girl about fourteen years ago, half flooded and listing to port, but Zhao let me work on her instead of the maintenance stuff in the complex, and here we are.” He patted the wall again fondly. “I knew she’d serve a purpose one day.”

“And you can drive a ship?” Lina asked. “Is that what you did before?”

“Boat,” Gerard corrected her kindly, “and I fixed stuff. The driving part takes care of itself easy enough.” Lina was certain he was overconfident but accepted his assurances anyway.

* * *

Lina pushed aside the ominous feelings of the previous day and concentrated on the darker ones of the early morning to mix them with her apprehension at leaving. The dread of being out at sea. The fear of being under the expansive water. She knew it was about as natural as flying, but something about being up in the air made her feel free and unrestricted, whereas just the thought of gliding along in a metal tube in the black water of the open ocean made her feel trapped and frightened.

Monet pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts with a friendly warning from above.

“Watch your head!”

Lina ducked at the foot of the ladder, avoiding the heavy thump of a bag hitting the deck inches away from her.

“Dammit, Monet!” she called.

“Crap, sorry. Did I get you?”

“Almost.”

Monet shimmied down the ladder confidently to drop the last few rungs and planted a boot on either side of the pack she retrieved, when Lina saw the reason she didn’t have the hands to carry it on the first place. Cradled against her body were two thermos flasks wrapped in plastic that had little pockets of air in them.

“Is that it?” Lina asked, the near miss forgotten.

“Yeah,” Monet replied, giving the flask a gentle pat as though she was reminding herself that she carried a weapon.

“Why is it in a flask?”

“The doc said something about a suspension fluid to carry it or something. We need to keep it cool and not drop it.” With that, she separated the two flasks and handed one to Lina. She hesitated before accepting the offered bioweapon.

“Take it,” Monet said. “They should be kept separate in case.” Lina grabbed it, not needing to ask why the need for a backup to infect the chemicals used to make whatever it was that let the aliens breathe Earth’s atmosphere.

She knew about the plan for the stolen ship to fly over land to Europe, hopping over the shortest stretches of open water while staying undetected, much the same as she knew Cole was going to do something with Soares about the Gateways. However, she didn’t know the finer points of these missions.

And that, she realized, was the problem.

Individually, their plans would damage and maybe even cripple the aliens’ infrastructure on Earth, but combined, it would mean success and the eradication of the Occupation. If it all worked, they’d reclaim their planet and hopefully close the door on the aliens forever.

If not forever, then at least long enough to make them pay too heavy a price to try again.

There were too many working parts, too many plans and plots running intertwined to be certain of success, and that worried her.

Voices from the hatch above brought her to the present, just as an electric hum filled the boat.

“Lina? You down there?” Her heart skipped a little.

Cole? Why is he here? Is he coming with us?

“Coming,” she called up softly, handing back the flask to climb the ladder and enter the chill pre-dawn morning outside. Soares was there with him, as was Buddy, along with Zhao and his daughter, who stood closer to Alec than she was to her father.

“Didn’t want you to leave without saying goodbye,” Soares said, his bright smile providing a tiny flash of white in the gloom. Lina smiled and bent down for Buddy to come to her, which he did with his head low and his tail wagging. He curled up between her legs before rolling on his back in loving submission to her attention. She peered up as Cole cleared his throat, taking the hint and rising to walk a short distance away with him.

“We…” He stopped. “I didn’t want you to go without saying goodbye.” Lina stared at him, searching his serious expression for any hint of emotion she could read.

“I might not be here when you get hone,” he said somberly.

“I might not come home ever,” Lina told him seriously. “None of us might.”

“True enough,” Cole answered, “but the mission comes first. We have to ki—”

“You’ll be fine,” she said. “You always are.” He smiled.

“So will you.”

A moment of awkward silence hung between them before Lina decided she’d have to show emotion first. She stepped close to rest her arms around his neck.

She felt him resist her embrace at first, his body stiffening in shock before he relaxed and returned it with his arms wrapping around her torso to bring her closer. They held each other for a long time, neither saying a word nor daring to breathe much, before she began to break contact.

He kissed her once, gently, before releasing her and turning.

“Just… just be careful,” he said as he walked into the darkness.

“You too,” she whispered, her fingertips resting softly on her lips where the fleeting kiss had left her more confused than anything else.

* * *

“Seal all compartments, prepare to dive,” Gerard’s voice echoed inside the submarine to reach Lina’s ears. He’d refused to allow her to watch from the surface, telling them that he wanted to lower the second the instruments told him he had enough clearance in the water to safely submerge.

An awkward noise sounded, and the sub slipped beneath the waves of the Pacific to begin their long journey across the ocean.

Chapter 11

Alec

Even though only a few of their people had left in the submarine the day prior, the camp felt emptier. It was miserable outside, the weather reflected in everyone’s mood. Alec had woken up with a gnawing feeling in his stomach, and he hadn’t been able to shake it since. His breakfast clung to his gut as he searched for Izzy.

He found Gregory Zhao’s office, thinking she might be speaking with her father, and he knocked, the door pressing open as it was slightly ajar.

“Hello,” Alec said softly.

Zhao was sleeping, his head lolled to the side as he leaned heavily in his seat. Alec glanced to the man’s desk, seeing a half empty bottle of brown liquid and a glass. Maps were spread across the surface, and Alec moved the tumbler, leaving a sticky amber stain on the paper.

What were these? There were intricate lines connecting their camp to something. He could see the shape of the medical bay, their mess hall, the residences… He ran a finger along the drawing of the outer fence, where Zhao’s red additions of the newly-formed Freeborn camps were just outside their walls.

But what were the red marks and where did they lead? Zhao remained motionless, his breathing loud but even. Instead of waking the man, he opted to snatch the map and slunk from the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Alec had never fully trusted Zhao, not after he’d turned Tom away, and it seemed like he might still be keeping secrets. He’d tried to broach the subject with Izzy, but it was a delicate conversation, and he didn’t expect it to go well. He liked Izzy… but the guilt at his feelings were almost enough for him to avoid exploring them. He’d once thought he loved a girl, one with a shaved head and pain in her eyes, but she was dead now, and they would be too if they didn’t end this damned Occupation once and for all.

Alec moved with purpose as he clutched the map in his left hand. He went outside, the clouds so thick, he couldn’t tell the time of day. Rain began to splatter on him, filling his nostrils with the comforting scent of ozone. The smell reminded him of being in Detroit, heading toward his cramped lodging after a long shift of back-breaking work. Those evenings when it rained were his favorite. He could hear the pitter-patter on the metal roof, and he’d dream of escape, of a new life.

Now he had that freedom, or a taste of it at least, but this wasn’t enough. He nodded to some of the workers, a mixture of the Freeborn Lina and Monet had recruited, as well as a few of the Phoenix survivors.

“Alec?” a voice asked, and he stopped, trying to find the source. The bald man stepped past a group leaving the mess hall, and Alec grinned at him.

“Scott.” He shook the man’s hand, his grip firm. “I haven’t seen you since the meeting.” The ex-cop from the Phoenix facility was carrying a shovel.

Scott peered up, rain dripping on his face. “Can’t say I mind a day of work, but nothing like doing it while wet.”

Alec pursed his lips, thinking about the man’s set of skills. He’d nearly been shot by the guy, and knew he should be doing more around the camp than digging in the fields. “Do you want to come with me?”

Scott shrugged. “If you can explain to Renata why I wasn’t there. She may only have one hand, but she sure knows how to strong arm a work detail.”

“Deal.”

“Where we going?” Scott asked, leaning his shovel against the wall.

“I don’t know,” Alec said, moving into the mess hall for reprieve from the rain. He opened the map, and they hovered over it. “This was in Zhao’s office, and I think it leads to something…”

“Should I be seeing this? I mean, the guy has given us a home,” Scott said, lifting his hands in front of his chest.

“We’re about to send a ship to Spain to begin our plan to reclaim this planet, and I don’t like secrets. Even if we pull this off, there will be retaliation,” Alec said.

“The birdbrains won’t ignore us forever, will they?” Scott asked quietly.

Alec shook his head. “Not once things have been put in motion.”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Something that will turn the tides,” he said, feeling like he’d heard the line before. Likely from Tom. He hadn’t known Tom for too long, not the real man. The one that had kept his chin up and his mind focused in Detroit a few years ago had been a phony. The true man was harsh, firm, and unrelenting. But he was also Alec’s uncle, his one connection to the parents he’d lost. To his life before the Occupation. And now he was dead.

“Whatever you need, I’m your man.” Scott patted Alec on the shoulder, and he forced a grin at the ex-cop.

“Good. I might take you up on that.” He pointed to the map. “The line starts after you cross the fields.” His finger moved along it, reaching a large square beyond, away from the ocean.

“Then we’d better get moving,” Scott said.

Alec rolled the map up and jammed it into his back pocket. Even though his stomach felt a little raw feeling, he grabbed an apple and took a bite.

They moved through camp, which was a little quieter after the shift change, telling him it was an hour past noon. They staggered from five until one, and one to nine. It was a demanding schedule, but with so many mouths to feed, it was necessary. It helped that no one seemed to mind, that working for themselves rather than the aliens pushed everyone to act harder and smarter.

Alec smiled at the guards along the fence, and they let the two of them pass with no interference. The fields were widespread, and Alec found a path leading between the golden wheat. The crops danced in the breeze, and the rain began to fall harder, turning the hard-packed dirt walkway into mud in a flash.

They chatted as they walked quickly, and Alec found himself liking Scott. He thanked Alec for saving them a few weeks ago, and Alec told him a little more of their plans. When they reached the cover of the forest beyond, Scott stopped, turning to face him.

“You really think this’ll work?” he asked, eyes squinting.

“I hope so. We don’t have much choice in the matter.” Alec took a deep breath of fresh forest air and searched for a sign of the trail from the map.

“I think it’s a damned brave idea, but if you can pull it off, I’ll buy you a beer.”

There was nothing but trees, and Alec’s hand found his hips as he stared at the forest bed. There were a few mushrooms along the lower trunks of the redwoods, and a rodent scurried from a fallen log. Alec and Scott walked in the direction marked on the map for at least three miles, the canopy dense enough to keep most of the rain from finding them.

“This is too far. If he made this to scale, we’ve gone past it.” Alec grunted in frustration.

“Maybe it was just an idea for expansion,” Scott suggested.

“I don’t think it would be the same color lines as the others if he…” Something clicked in Alec’s head, and he grabbed Scott’s arm. “This way.” He jogged now, pumping his legs toward the field they started at. By the time they arrived, he was out of breath, and Scott panted beside him.

“What is it?” the older man asked.

Alec had thought the fallen tree looked out of place. It was the only rotting log in the forest that he’d seen. The rest would have been taken for firewood by the camp. “Give me a hand.” He grabbed hold of a broken branch on the log and tried to move it. Scott bent over, heaving with Alec, and together they moved it a few feet. It was enough for Alec to see a glint of metal beneath a pile of moss and leaves.

He knelt in the damp forest bed and brushed the foliage aside. This was it. He stared at a circular hatch and glanced up at Scott, who wore a big smile on his face. “If we were on the force still, I’d have to recommend you be promoted to detective.”

Alec spun the wheel, and it groaned in protest. He lifted the lid, and it squeaked open. It was dark inside, and Alec fumbled in his pants pocket to reveal a tiny flashlight. “Want the honors?” he asked Scott, who shook his head.

“The pleasure’s all yours.”

Alec stepped in, his feet finding long metal rungs, and he climbed down them, thirty in total before locating solid ground. He shone the beam through the corridor they arrived in, and saw nothing but a dirt floor and walls. “Come on down,” he called to Scott, and the man didn’t have to be told twice. He arrived and dusted his hands together as they stared into the abyss.

“Where do you think it leads?” Scott asked.

“We’re about to find out.” Alec stepped forward, walking cautiously through the dark corridor. There were long wooden posts bracing the tunnel roughly every ten feet. Whoever built this had done so with care and purpose. He imagined Zhao was behind it, but his intent was unclear.

The tunnels went on and on. Alec slowed and shone the light behind them, no longer able to see the steps or light of the exit. It was too cramped here, and so stale, he struggled to breathe. The air was musty, and a rat scampered by, noisily protesting their presence.

“It reminds me of the sewers back home,” Scott said, and Alec wanted him to keep talking. It was a good distraction. “We had a killer when I was in my first year on the force. Kept leaving bodies down there for the sanitation department to find. When I was a rookie, the sarge made me do sewer patrol at night. Nothing like spending eight hours alone, underground, in the dark. It turned me into a man really quick.”

Alec shuddered. “Did you find the guy?”

“We did. Wasn’t during my shift, though.” Scott sounded disappointed about not cracking a case from at least thirty years ago.

Their conversation went dry, and Alec tried to repress his fear of a cave-in occurring. The ground had steadily declined in elevation, and he wondered how far down they were now. He set a hand on a wooden beam and saw an end to the corridor finally. They moved to the entrance, and Alec let out a whistle.

The room was massive and nothing like the crudely constructed corridors. The walls were supported with brick and beams, large light fixtures hung from the thirty-foot ceilings. He couldn’t even see the end of the room from there, and he entered cautiously, as if he might startle a trip wire.

“Looks like your friend Zhao had a backup plan.” Scott moved to the left, and they found a great kitchen. Cupboards were stocked with preserves, jars and jars of food. Along the wall, he discovered a tap, and he turned it, cool water pouring out. They moved on, entering three more rooms just like this one, each larger than the last, connected by short tunnels.

The second had weapons in it, lots of them, as well as survival gear: axes, tents, tarps, ropes, flint, all categorized and stored properly.

“This is impressive,” Scott said as he picked up a first aid kit.

The last section was full of beds, bunks lining the entire place, and Alec counted room for five hundred bodies, more if they doubled up. “How will they all breathe down here?” he asked, and Scott pointed to the ceiling. Alec’s light followed Scott’s finger, and he saw the pipes, jutting from the ceiling. Vents to the surface.

“I don’t think anyone would want to stay here long term, but this is one hell of a hiding spot,” Scott said.

“It sure is.” Alec wondered why the old man had kept this from them. Did Izzy know about it? There was only enough room for Zhao’s people in here, though, and that would pose a problem.

“There’s another room,” Scott said, finding a half-closed door hidden behind a bunk.

They dragged the metal-framed bed across the floor with a squeak, and Alec shoved his flashlight inside.

“What is this?” Alec asked.

“Looks like one hell of a party!” Scott shouted, a smile on his face. There were stacks of crates, labeled with things like explosives, danger, and caution. More than a few had the trefoil symbol, indicating radioactive materials.

“What’s he doing with all this stuff?”

“No idea. Now what?” Scott asked.

“We have a chat with Zhao.”

Chapter 12

Sylvie

The last five days had been long. Each hour stretched out in front of Sylvie as she plodded her feet ever forward. Maxime strolled beside her, his face wearing the mask of someone older. He hadn’t spoken since breakfast, and come to think of it, neither had she.

The roads were dusty, and she turned at the intersection, noticing a train car parking along tracks a block over. Maxime followed her with casual disinterest, never having an opinion of their direction or mission. Gabriel had been her friend, but he’d been Maxime’s mentor. His wounds were fresh, and now, covered in dirt.

She wiped her pants, shaking some of the roadway off her, and waved her companion to the shade. The landscape was undulating in southern Spain, and since they were a good twenty miles inland, the air was growing drier. She took a swig from the canteen and pressed it into Max’s hands.

“Drink,” she had to tell him, and he obeyed without a word. “We’re close. This isn’t going to be easy. We’re there to gather intel for the Reclaimers.”

“Why did we have to leave?” he asked, his voice cracked and hard like the road they stood on.

“Because there comes a point in everyone’s life when they need to fight,” she told him, frowning.

“Like how Adam fought, or Gabriel. What did it do for the—” Her slap cut him off, and he held his red cheek, tears forming in his eyes.

She raised her hand again, but he stood firm. “Stop it, Max. You and I are about to march into one of the alien encampments, and you’re sniveling about like a child. We’re tasked with this mission, and we’re going to fulfill our end. They are seeking a way to end this, don’t you understand?”

He shook his head.

She calmed herself with a deep breath and took his hand. “Sometimes I forget how young you are. If they can stop the shipment of misters, the aliens will run out of supplies.”

“But they’ll make more,” he said, and she realized that Gabriel hadn’t shared the entire plan with the youth.

“They will, but they won’t last long. And when the others disable the gateways, it will be over.”

“Won’t they fight?” he asked.

“Of course. It will be bloody. But it will be over, one way or another,” she told him, and saw the resolve firm in his spine as he stood up straighter. His eyes lost the glazed look, and he blinked quickly, taking the lead.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked, approaching the overgrown train tracks.

They walked along the old route. This one would have carried supplies from the former iron mines toward the coast, probably for Murica, and then on to bigger hubs. In an hour, with the sun beating down on them, she first heard the sounds of the Occupation mine. Another half hour passed, and they slowed, moving off the tracks and into the sparse forest alongside it.

It was loud, the terrible thrusters burning through the air. It smelled of metal here, almost like blood, and she sipped water to clear the taste from her mouth. Maxime’s eyes were wide as they neared the edge of the trees.

The mine was gigantic, the roads carved into the exterior of the canyon, and the machines burned into the ground below. Drones floated in the skies, but different from the Flyers; these were harvesting the ore.

She’d been so preoccupied with the sight of the mine, she hardly noticed the massive circular structure a half mile beyond it.

“That’s the Gateway,” she whispered, her hands trembling as she stared at the monstrosity. They had built more, as the Reclaimers and the leader of the Barony suspected. It was powered off, resembling nothing like the images she’d seen in the Tom Mason video.

“There.” Max pointed to their left, and Sylvie braced herself against the tree to keep her knees from buckling. There were aliens, hordes of them standing together in rows. One of their loud space vessels was landed nearby.

She took a guess at how many were there. “Three hundred. I see at least three hundred.”

“Do you see any humans?” Max asked, and she used her scope to check. The aliens were watching one of their own walking up and down the lines, speaking to them. What she wouldn’t give to know what they were saying. The strange creatures were in tight gray clothing, but it didn’t appear as though they were armed.

From a distance, they didn’t seem that intimidating, but up close… their eyes were dead, their limbs long and powerful. Those thick legs with the backwards knees would allow them to jump, to run fast, she’d bet on it.

“What do we do?” Max asked.

She slid a tablet from her pack, and followed the instructions from the Reclaimers. She found a signal the drones over the mine were connected to, latched on as if she was one of them, using a code supplied to her. She sent the message to the Reclaimers before moving back in the direction they’d come, where she’d wait for three days until the interception.

Dex

New York City. It had been ages since he’d visited the metropolis, or what was left of it. He rolled along the New Jersey road, peering over the Hudson River at the rubble that used to be Manhattan. It was hard to believe the most iconic city of their country had been destroyed so quickly. That had been shown on the news feeds while they still had access to them, and it was the moment everyone in the States knew without a doubt that they were boned.

Dex pictured the footage, seeing the two Overseer vessels rain a fiery hell on the defenseless city. The bridges were blown out, the Empire State Building teetered over, crashing over Fifth Avenue. He also recalled watching the FA-18s bearing down on the invaders, only to be swatted away like flies.

That was how the Overseers dealt with everything, as though they were all nothing but a nuisance, a bug to be squashed. His destination was close, and he drove there slowly, not really wanting to see Hansen again. Every time he thought of the human leader, he saw Tom being executed.

A luxury yacht floated at the end of a pier, and it drew Dex’s gaze as he drove toward the river’s edge. A lot of these buildings had survived the years, their bricks crumbling and roofs collapsing, but they still stood, erect and tall. The group of humans were milling about near the dock, and Dex threw the car in park, slowly emerging from the vehicle.

“Lambert, nice of you to join us,” Hansen said from the middle of the huddle, his unmistakable lisp echoing down the block.

Dex sauntered over, walking with a bravado and confidence he didn’t feel. His gaze drifted to the right, where the Statue of Liberty had once stood. Now he wasn’t even sure if he could see the ground of Liberty Island.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world. What are we doing here? Time for our tropical retreat?” Dex asked, pointing to the large boat. He hoped not. If they were leaving, it was going to be without him.

“Not quite yet, but how about a tour?” Hansen asked.

A thin older woman he’d met at Detroit during the Gateway opening set a hand on his forearm. “Pleased to see you, Dexter. Did you have any trouble with the farmers?”

“Good question. You’re here, and they’re not, so I take it everything went well?” Hansen asked.

Dex nodded, fighting the urge to punch the man in the throat. “Found six of them holed up. Wasn’t anything to worry about. They only wanted to hide.”

“But you…”

“I did as you asked, otherwise I’d be hiding in a barn right now with them,” Dex said. “And I much prefer the luxury of a yacht.”

Bernadette laughed as if he’d made a witty comment at the year’s hottest social event, and directed him down the wide pier toward the boat. “We’ll be leaving in a week or so, isn’t that right, Colonel?”

A week. Why the delay? He didn’t ask but assumed an answer was coming soon. Three days and the Masons were going to be in Spain, or at least the Detroit one was going overseas. The brooding one was going with Soares to try to sneak through the Gate. Dex couldn’t imagine anyone in their right mind visiting the alien world, but he supposed this wasn’t a time for cowards.

Being around these people, that was how he felt, though. He should be fending off the bastards beside Soares and Alec, instead of hanging out with these delusional nutbags.

Hansen turned to them as he stopped at the walkway leading onto the boat. Dex looked around, seeing there were only about ten of the humans. He knew half of their names, and they hardly returned his smiles. He was a grunt to them, a man on the outside, one they would cut loose after he was done doing their dirty work. It was clear to Dex as Hansen spoke.

“This is the Pegasus. She’s going to take us to our new home, but only after we check on Florida.” Hansen stepped aside, letting the people file onto the boat for their tour. Dex hung out at the back of the line, hesitantly joining the others. Hansen placed a hand on his chest and leaned in.

“We found an enclave of these… Vermin… these Reclaimers near Jacksonville. Rumors are they have hundreds there. We’ve been asked to exterminate them, and then we have permission to leave.” Hansen wiped his hands together, a maniacal grin to his scarred face.

Dex stiffened at the use of his ally’s name. Reclaimers. Was there a group in Florida? Tom hadn’t been very forthright with Dex, and that had been for the best, but now he wished he’d been in the loop. At least he could communicate to the west coast and warn them.

They took the tour, Dex lingering at the front deck, unenthusiastic about the rooms or the kitchen. All he wanted was to get this over with, so he could be on the road again. He’d never be returning, not unless it was to sink this damned boat.

The sun began its descent, casting long shadows onto the river from behind them, and Dex mingled with the others, trying his best to be affable, but the upcoming mission took over his attention. His tablet was hidden in his car, and once the booze started flowing, he found an opportunity to sneak off the boat and find his Camaro.

He slid into the car, grabbing the tablet from under the passenger seat. He powered it up, dimming the screen as it flashed on.

Dex quickly sent a message to the Masons about Hansen wanting to infiltrate a Reclaimer site in Jacksonville, and didn’t wait for a reply. He turned it off, put it away, and patted his jacket, making sure his gun was still there.

A knock on his window startled him, and he saw Hansen’s ugly face leaning over him. Dex exited the car and was about to ask Hansen what he wanted, when he caught sight of the hovercar moving over the river.

“No time for a nap, Hunter. Time to get to business,” Hansen said, clapping Dex on the arm.

The hovercar neared them, the engines sputtering and cutting like a chainsaw in the otherwise silent night air. It landed along the street a half a block down, and a dozen armed soldiers climbed out. Dex followed Hansen and cringed as the Overseer clambered from the top of the hovercar, bounding over the edge and landing softly instead of using the ramp.

Dex had never seen one move like that, and it wasn’t a pretty sight. It looked like an apex predator rather than a disinterested animal. Another joined it, and Dex gaped at the hovercar, spotting two more inside.

“I thought this was our job?” Dex asked Hansen quietly.

Hansen turned to him, his voice low, his lisp not evident. “You want to tell them to sit this one out?”

Chapter 13

Cole

“Florida? There’s nothing in Florida, is there?” Cole asked.

“They’ve reached out to us,” he said. “They’ve been hiding. Tom’s final message had an effect on people…”

Cole knew it. From all over the country small pockets of survivors, be they Freeborn or Roamer, had been trickling in as though their species understood the only way to survive was to combine, to pool their resources, and fight in unison.

“Hiding where?” Cole asked. “I mean, I didn’t go all the way to the south, but I saw enough of the place to figure it was totaled. Hurricanes dropped damn near every building standing, and anything left was just a skeleton.”

Soares shrugged, which annoyed Cole.

“And we’re sure they aren’t on their side?”

Soares smiled, this time his eyes telling Cole that he definitely knew something the younger man didn’t.

“Underground,” Soares said, giving in. “They’ve been living underground.”

“Fine, whatever,” he said as he stood and walked away.

“Don’t go too far,” Soares warned. “We’re leaving at oh-four-hundred.”

Buddy rose with Cole, loyally marking his pace to lope a short distance behind. The coyote had been acting a little off since Lina had gone into the inky expanse of the pre-dawn Pacific Ocean.

Cole kept walking until he found some solitude, which was a rare thing given how many people were living in and around the facility, and sat on a rock to look out at the watery horizon to the west. Buddy moved beside him, going into a kind of biological version of the Tracker’s standby mode to conserve energy as he folded his legs underneath his body and rested his chin on his front paws. Only his eyebrows moved to betray the animal’s roving eyes.

“I know,” Cole said, reaching out a hand and rubbing his fingertips through the coarse hair at Buddy’s neck. “But you can't come with me either. Come on, let’s go find your friend.”

Cheyenne, her small physique and big, shining eyes framed by the jet-black hair that tumbled in an unruly mess, wasn’t hard to find. He walked into the area where the Freeborns were camped. They’d done a lot in a little amount of time.

Trees were cleared, contained fires were burning, and different scents tickled his nostrils as much as they did the coyote’s, and both of them walked along sniffing the air to locate the source. The animal shot away, body low to the ground, and before Cole could utter a command to halt it, he saw him roll onto his back in playful submission before Cheyenne reached him.

“I was hoping I’d find you,” Cole said to her. She ignored him entirely, talking in a language he didn’t know as if the coyote was a child.

“You’re leaving and you want me to take care of him,” she said in English. A statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“You’re taking the metal dog, though,” she accused him. “The one without a soul.”

“I have to.” Cole felt uncomfortable talking about faith and souls. He preferred to keep his expectation of life limited to what he could see, hear, and touch.

“He’s fine with me,” Cheyenne said, Cole glad she dropped the subject of the Tracker drone he felt more attached to than most people he’d ever known. “You go. Buddy will be here when Lina returns.”

Cole thanked her, bending down to give the animal one last brush with his fingertips before he turned away and tried not to think of the implication lying heavy in her words. He walked, faster than he had before, toward his sparse room, where he planned to eat an early meal before trying to sleep. He feared that his overactive thoughts would plague him into insomnia.

Armed men and women, Zhao’s people, eyed him suspiciously as he passed, making him wish he was carrying a shotgun or a rifle, or anything but the pistol hidden under his clothing. They stared at him, their eyes daring to offer any kind of confrontation they could legitimately challenge, and their hands seemed restless on their weapons.

Better than a gun, Cole thought, I wish I had the Tracker with me. They’re scared of that, no matter what they say.

He wasn’t the direct cause of the tension, but it was clear in the way they watched his brother that Alec had upset everyone in the room.

Cole hadn’t viewed it as a bad thing, only that Zhao had withheld a few secrets to protect the people looking to him for safety. The compromise had been easily reached, and already there were the old, the young, and the sick being helped into those hidden shelters ready to survive any attempt to destroy or storm their temporary home.

Justified or not, some people didn’t subscribe to the belief that the mythical Mason brothers had returned from their long silence to lead humanity to victory.

Hell, he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself.

Cole found food, sitting alone and picking at it with a fork until he gave in and admitted to himself that his stomach was on strike. Dropping his tray in the stack by the exit, he went to his room and lay on his cot for all of five minutes before jumping up and heading for the door, too restless to stay still.

He swiped on the tablet and activated the drone, seeing it unfold in much the opposite way Buddy had settled playfully earlier. It woke up fast, scanning the room before fixing its focus on Cole alone.

Walking the corridors underground until he felt tired, he returned to his room to attempt to finally fall asleep.

* * *

The alarm set for six in the morning was shut off the second it started to announce itself. Cole had been watching the time tick closer as he stared at the old wind-up clock for what felt like hours.

He threw off the sheets, pulled on his clothes, and picked up the bag he’d packed and re-packed three times just hours before. Another choice that forced him to ruminate over the dozens of pros and cons was which weapon to take, eventually deciding on the shotgun for the simplicity. He’d only ever seen Soares carry a rifle, so reasoned that his choice catered for another option should they need it. The deeper truth was that he was relaxed with a shotgun, whereas the rifle had too many working parts for him to feel fully comfortable with it.

The drone activated again, the UV heat lamp having topped up the last percent of battery to leave at least one of them fully charged, and followed him out of the room. Cole told himself that he wouldn’t return until this whole thing was over.

Or ever, he admitted privately. Whichever came first.

Soares wasn’t waiting for him, meaning the old man was starting to trust Cole to get himself packed without supervision or that he had a million and one other things to worry about. Cole suspected the latter.

He spotted the older man by the alien ship talking to Alec at the foot of the ramp that led up into the belly of the unnatural metal craft. A third man joined them, walking down the ramp with a swagger Cole appreciated. Thinking that he had some sort of telepathic link to the drone marking his heels, he saw it trot fast to take a slight lead and fix its head on the new arrival, giving the impression it was ready to take action if required.

“And we’re sure they won't revert to their original programming?” Alec asked.

The man emerging from the ramp nodded. “Not a chance. The old software got wiped, and their signal receptors won't allow any operating procedure downloads.”

“Whatever that means,” Cole added with a little more snark than he intended.

“Oh, hey, brother,” Alec said. “You remember Tyrone? From Atlanta?”

Cole did, and shook the man’s hand. The feeling of mistrust remained just as strong as it had been before. Cole told himself it was because the man used to side with the enemy.

“It means that their code, their mission brief if you prefer, has been washed and they’re prevented from receiving another one,” Tyrone explained.

“And that works?” Cole asked. In answer, Tyrone pointed at the drone walking beside Cole.

“Worked on that. Same principle.”

“And they’ve all been tested?” Soares asked. Cole looked up the ramp to see the belly of the ship filled with neat racks of drones, Trackers and Seekers, folded in on themselves in standby mode. Even though he’d grown accustomed to having the one beside him, seeing so many others without scars on their chassis, implying they were a fresh batch, and witnessing the uniform ranks of them, and how damned cold and inhuman they were, made him suppress a shudder.

“Every last one,” Tyrone said. “Trust me.”

Cole did nothing of the sort. In fact, he barely trusted people he knew, let alone people who were on the wrong side of the war they’d started only a short time ago.

“How do you know about this?” he asked, aware the man wasn’t with them at Cripple Creek.

“Only what the others said,” Tyrone admitted, pulling a tablet out and attaching a wire. “Mind if I plug in an—”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Cole said with an edge to his voice that made the man’s hand freeze before it could reach out to the Tracker drone.

His Tracker drone.

“So anyway,” Tyrone said as he handed the tablet over to Alec. “All the subroutines are pre-programmed. You can mark a target for follow, attack, and whatnot. Instructions are on there, but it’s just tap the screen and pick the number and type of drone with the action you want them to perform.”

“That easy?” Alec asked, taking the tablet.

“Yeah,” Tyrone answered, still giving Cole an uneasy glance as if sensing the hostility.

“You’re not coming along?” Cole asked him. “After all, if something’s wrong with the drones, aren’t you the best guy to fix them?”

“Hey, I’m not cleared to go,” he started to say, backing up.

“Of course you’re not,” Cole said, turning to Soares. “We need to check all of these drones. How do we know we can trust this guy?” Soares said nothing, but his expression darkened under the harsh lights of the ship. He spun Cole on the spot and propelled him up the ramp as Alec was left to stretch the awkward silence out behind them.

“What the hell was that about?” Soares demanded as soon as they stepped inside the ship.

“I guess we’re in the habit of trusting everyone we meet, huh? He was one of them, dammit.”

“Now he’s one of us. A human. Not a Hunter who enjoys killing his own kind, and he sure as shit ain’t no damn alien. You wanna check?” he asked, snatching up another tablet and thrusting it into Cole’s chest. “Then check. Pick a drone at random and see if it tries to kill you.”

Cole stared him down for a few seconds before deflating and handing back the tablet, looking up in embarrassment as someone spoke.

“What’d I miss?” Becca asked from the cockpit ahead of them.

“Nothing,” Cole answered.

“Good,” came another voice, this one older and toothless and sounding as if he found just about everything amusing. “I was wonderin’ if I was gonna have to come and smack your heads together.”

“Go ahead and try it, Whittaker,” Soares said warmly. “Mind you, don’t put your hip out on the way.” Wheezy laughter echoed back to them.

“You wanna sit on my lap and pretend to drive?” Whittaker answered, goading Soares as if the two men knew each other better than Cole realized.

“All the way to Spain?” Soares answered, clapping Alec on the shoulder as he climbed the ramp past him. “No thanks. He keeping his hands to himself?” Soares asked the young woman, wincing internally and hoping she let the mention of hands—plural—pass without comment.

“He will,” Becca responded, “or we’ll manage just fine with one pilot.”

Zhao stalked up into the belly of the vessel, a frown over his brow.

“What’s the problem?” Alec asked.

“Had word from our friends in Shanghai. A brief but important message. The shipment has been delayed,” Zhao said.

Alec sighed loudly. “We’re ready to depart.”

“Then you’ll just have to wait, won’t you?” Zhao asked, his face softening as he looked at his daughter.

“We don’t want to arrive early,” Izzy said. “That’ll screw everything up.”

“We need to time this right. Okay, everyone reconvene at four AM in the morning,” Soares said.

“I don’t like the delay.” Cole nodded to his pack by the ramp.

“Life doesn’t always give you what you want,” Soares told him, storming away from the ship.

Cole shrugged, deciding maybe he’d have time for one more walk in the forest with Buddy after all.

Chapter 14

Alec

Alec woke feeling well rested for the first time in days, weeks even. Considering they were leaving on their first major mission to reclaim the world from an alien oppressor since Tom had been killed, he’d slept like a baby. Izzy was beside him, and he smiled as he recalled the late night knock on his door. She’d told him they might not survive the next few days, and that there were things they were missing out on if that was the case.

He rose from bed, leaving her sleeping soundly, and softly closed the door to the room. Yesterday, Alec had been upset at the delay… today, after last night, he was all smiles.

The hall was already full of life as he walked past the residence of Zhao’s top people, and headed to the communal bathroom to freshen up. Alec’s hair had grown longer, and he felt the beginnings of his growing beard. It made him appear older, less like the skinny kid he’d been in Detroit. Already he was filling out from the better diet and the constant exercise he’d been doing around camp.

Alec thought he was beginning to look more and more like Cole, and as he considered this, his brother entered the bathroom, a towel around his neck.

“Why do you have that stupid grin on your face?” Cole asked him.

“What stupid grin?” Alec asked, turning his face from side to side to evaluate it in the mirror.

“Oh wait, my mistake. That’s just your normal expression.” Cole ran water from the sink, splashing it over his forehead.

“You were meant to be a brother, you know that? I can only assume you were born first, because it’s the older brother’s job to torment the younger,” Alec said, picking up on the example of a few sets of siblings around camp.

“Is that so? I assume the little brother’s job is to be a constant thorn in the other’s side?” Cole asked, lifting his eyebrows.

“Are you ready for today?” Alec’s expression grew serious. As much as he wanted to continue joking around with Cole, they had a lot to achieve in a short amount of time.

Cole only shrugged. He wasn’t one for overusing words. “You?”

“I guess so. I thought I was ready yesterday. I mean, we’re heading out in the spaceship for the first time since Detroit, and we really don’t know how much opposition we’re going to meet on the way.” Alec used a towel to dry his damp hair.

“Dex makes it sound pretty slim out there,” Cole said. “Most of their resources appear to be tied up in these mines.”

“They’re going to bleed our resources dry and then what?” Alec asked. They’d been speculating over this for weeks now, but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter what the Overseers had planned; the Reclaimers were going to stop them before they accomplished it.

“I wonder what they’re going to find in Florida.” Cole leaned against the wall and nodded at one of Zhao’s men as he strode in, rushing for one of the stalls. Cole waved him into the corridor, and Alec followed, wondering if he should go wake Izzy. Zhao was at the end of the hall, hands on hips, and Alec grabbed Cole, dragging him the opposite direction.

“What is that all about?” his brother asked.

“Uhm…”

“You and Izzy?” Cole asked, surprise thick in his voice.

“Well… last night… first time… never mind. Soares says the group there is hiding, so they might be fine,” Alec told him, trying to avoid addressing the elephant in the room.

They stopped near the exit to the residence, and the door opened, letting in a fresh and chilly morning breeze. “Cole, your mission is just as difficult as mine. Be safe. Don’t let your ego get in your way, and listen to the captain. He knows what he’s doing,” Alec said.

“What do you mean, my ego?” Cole asked.

“Be safe. Whatever happens, I need to stop the shipment of misters, and you need to close the damned gateways.” Alec’s stomach clenched as the enormity of their task sank in.

“And Lina. Don’t forget about Lina.” Cole’s gaze adjusted in the direction of the ocean.

“You miss her,” Alec said.

Cole nodded slowly. “She’ll be okay. Better than with me.”

“Sure. Grab your stuff. We leave in an hour.” Alec almost didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deeper, more defined, authoritative, and he stood taller, happy with the changes. He hoped he could survive the coming war and find out what he was capable of. His brother too.

Cole departed, heading for the mess hall, and Alec decided to return to his room, gather a few things, and prepare to leave.

* * *

The aliens’ ship was intimidating as always. They’d already gone over the drones’ programming instructions the day before, and Alec found Whittaker sitting at the ramp to the entrance, chewing on a long piece of grass.

Zhao was there with Izzy beside him, arguing with the girl, and she met Alec’s gaze, smiling knowingly as he approached. “Would you tell my dad to relax, Mason?”

“What’s the problem?” Alec asked.

“The problem is Isabelle thinks she’s going with you to Spain.” Zhao seemed older, his gray hair nearly white.

“She is coming, Zhao. We already established that.” Alec started up the ramp. Inside, he found Soares and Cole waiting for him, along with Renata and Becca. Bailey sat there, smiling at the altercation.

Zhao was right behind him. “Mason, we’re not done here.”

“Look… Gregory.” Alec saw the clench of the man’s jaw, and he decided he might have been overstepping the boundaries, so he changed his tone, making it more amiable. “This mission is imperative, and Izzy’s a good shot and a smart woman. We already have feet on the street in Spain with Sylvie, and Jack is ready to join us at a moment’s notice. We have insight from Dex, and a submarine heading to Shanghai. We’re doing this.”

“Dad, just make sure you get everyone into hiding that you can, okay? Do what you do best, which is protecting us.” She stood on her toes, kissing her father on the cheek. His shoulders slackened, and he nodded, walking away muttering something about Tom and the trouble he always brought.

Becca hopped off her chair and gave Izzy then Alec a hug. “Sorry I’m not coming, but you have Whittaker. I’ll be ready to fly the other ship on your word.”

Their secondary team consisted of Lisa from the Cripple Creek facility, Becca, Renata, and a few of the Freeborn warriors, along with Scott the ex-cop from Phoenix. Alec was pleased with their second string and wondered if it might actually be their best team. If they didn’t survive Spain, the others would have to be strong and prepare for battle.

“Okay, everyone not coming with us, I’m asking you to leave,” Soares said loudly, and Becca walked past the old man Whittaker as he climbed the ramp slowly.

“Shouldn’ta drank that many moonshines last night.” Whittaker stumbled, and Alec caught him.

“I hope you’re joking,” Alec told him.

“Fine. I shoulda drank more.” The pilot sauntered toward the bridge.

The ramp lifted, and Izzy waved to her father on the ground below, and Alec’s heart raced as the ship rumbled to life. They were so loud, that for a moment, doubts crept into his mind. How could they fly all the way to Wisconsin, then to Spain without being tracked? They’d used the weapons a few times, but could they compete if there was a real defense against them?

“It’ll be fine.” Izzy’s voice was quiet, comforting, and he nodded.

“Thanks.” He walked down the ship, past the room lined with inactive drones, and toward the bridge where Whittaker was sitting in the modified pilot’s seat.

“First stop, Wisconsin, show the lady yer ticket stubs.” He pulled on a lever, grinning like a mad man as they lifted off the ground.

Alec wondered if he’d ever see this place again, and guessed that he wouldn’t.

Dex

A full day and a half after arriving in Florida hadn’t given them any real answers, other than the fact that a group of Reclaimers had indeed lived in Jacksonville. The aliens were ramped up, these ones larger and more muscular than the complacent ones Dex was used to. They took charge, leaving even Hansen out of any decisions, and seemed somehow livelier, making Dex suspect these were reinforcements fresh through the Gateway.

It was clear Hansen was nervous, his cronies sensing it. They’d started out the trip with jocular remarks, making fun of one another, and talking about all the terrible things they were going to do to the vermin once they caught them. Dex hated his crew with every ounce of his soul.

He’d known so many men like them in his life—hell, he’d been a sick version of them for most of it—but even after everything, these guys still clung to a belief that they were doing themselves a favor by siding with the aliens.

Dex wondered how tough it would be to convince them now that the aliens were bad, and that they could overpower these four. Watching the Overseers here, Dex had a new disdain for them. If the Overseers had an army like this out there, the humans were in real trouble.

The facility was inland some distance, along an inlet, so there was still water beside it. A large dock sat behind the building, and Dex assumed it had been used to haul goods by boat from the car parts distributor. A red and white logo was etched on a sign jammed into the concrete, the words long ago faded from years of direct sunlight.

“How many times are we going to walk around this building?” Dex asked Hansen.

“As many times as they want.” Hansen had taken off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and showed that he was sweating through the white shirt. His tie was long ago removed, and Dex had never seen the scarred man so flustered.

They entered the warehouse again. It was lined with beds on the right side, built into the shelving racks. There had to be at least a hundred of them staying there. “How close was the nearest Occupation facility to here?” Dex asked.

Hansen frowned. “About fifty miles. Fruit. Apple orchards and orange groves.”

“It's gone?” Dex asked.

“Burned.”

Dex nodded. So much waste. His Glock was heavy on his chest, and he almost reached for it.

“Over here!” one of Hansen’s men shouted, drawing the attention of the two aliens in the room. The aliens ran to the grate on the floor, shoving the guy to the ground. He slid on the floor, crashing into the pallet racking. Hansen set a hand on Dex’s chest, as if fearing Dex was about to retaliate on behalf of the bastard on the ground.

The alien crouched at the floor, tearing at the grate. His neck muscles bulged, and he let out a terrible cry as he ripped the metal door from the warehouse concrete. Hunks of gray flooring rolled from the opening.

The other alien glanced around before jumping into the hole, and Dex followed Hansen over. There was a ladder, and the remaining Overseer chittered something at Hansen, who nodded. “He told us to go in.”

Dex shrugged, finding metal rungs embedded into the wall of the hole. He clambered down the steps and landed with a resounding echo as his boots hit. Hansen was right behind, aiming a flashlight into the corridor.

It looked like whoever had been staying here had left in a hurry. There were open crates, empty boxes, and blankets strewn over the room. It went deep, and more cots were discovered, as well as a spattering of weapons.

The alien bellowed again, and Dex cringed at the noise. He peered over, wondering what had the thing so excited, and he saw the computer. Damn it.

The Overseer waved Hansen over, speaking in its rough language. “What did it say?” Dex asked.

“It wants me to extract information,” Hansen said, setting the flashlight down, the beam hitting the ceiling twelve or so feet up.

“Can you do that?” Dex asked. The computer was plugged in, and Dex considered shooting it. It would mean his life, but it might save others. His heart pounded in his ears as he made his decision. He stood restlessly, letting Hansen activate the monitor. Someone had left this computer behind, and Dex could only hope they’d been smart enough to wipe anything important off the drive.

A video began playing, and it showed Tom and Hansen from the drone’s camera. “What’s this?” Hansen asked, but he didn’t mean the image of Mason and him in Detroit. He paused the feed and clicked open a file marked WCR. “They’re near the ocean, northern California!” Hansen stared at Dex, a maniacal grin spread over his face. “Tell your people to mobilize. We have some Vermin to squash.”

Dex needed to send a warning. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.

Chapter 15

Cole

The feeling of being inside the alien ship as it weaved sickeningly left Cole sitting on the deck and holding on tight. He didn’t know if they’d been flying and hugging the contours of the ground below for minutes or hours.

The ship lurched again, only it was different that time, and Cole felt the metal beneath him vibrate as the landing gear descended to cushion their less than gentle return to the Earth.

“This is us,” Soares said, slapping his shoulder and wearing an expression that spoke of having more fun than was polite given the circumstances. The ramp hummed as it lowered, and Cole felt hands helping him up. Standing unsteadily, he looked directly into the eyes of his brother.

“Stay safe,” Alec said, hesitating before pulling Cole closer and squeezing him in a hug that he didn’t fight.

“You too,” Cole said into Alec’s shoulder as they separated amid some manly pounding on each other’s backs.

Cole went to run down the ramp but was forced to slow, as his legs were still unsteady. It was quite dark, but the air felt cooler and held a lot more moisture than where they’d come from. The ship carrying his brother and the others left, its engines far too loud in the quiet.

He followed Soares away from the ship, the drone keeping a halting pace alongside him, as it had to keep correcting for his unsteady progress. Dropping to his knees beside his companion, he saw the man’s face illuminated by the weak glow from his tablet. Cole leaned over to look, seeing a 3D map image displayed but not of any landscape he recognized.

He knew where they would be, in theory at least, but he couldn’t recall ever being in that place before. Eagle River was further north than he’d been in his life, and the cold began to seep into his bones with each passing second spent immobile.

“Two miles due east,” Soares said, turning to face the direction they needed to go. “Send your boy out ahead.” Cole wasn’t sure how he felt about the drone being his boy, especially as he was racked with guilt over replacing the loyal coyote with a soulless machine, but he gave the instruction anyway.

“Scout ahead,” he said clearly. The drone did nothing.

“Eighteen,” he tried again, remembering to activate the voice commands with one of a few keywords programmed in. “Scout ahead.”

The drone launched forward, curious legs moving fast in the low light as the body stayed still, unlike a real dog. They moved. The drone continued ahead of them, starting and stopping when they did so that it was permanently deployed as a screen.

Cole didn’t think too hard about it, concentrating mainly on his returning senses after the debilitating ride in the alien ship, but he did start to question what else the drone was programmed to do without being instructed.

Two miles of wild, descending terrain later and no longer feeling the cold in any way, Cole and Soares caught their breath. They stared at a simple steel and concrete building that bore all the signs of yet another abandoned structure too stubborn to be broken down by nature and the passage of time.

“This another cache?” Cole asked.

“The entrance to one, yeah.”

“Looks clear,” Cole said, pulling out the tablet to access the advanced optics of the drone and cycling through the options—night vision, thermal, ultraviolet—before being sure they were safe.

“Could’ve done with a couple of those Seekers running top cover for us,” Soares commented.

“No way. Just the sound of those things in the distance is enough to make you shit your pants,” Cole told him, educating his mentor on how life was outside of the underground facilities he’d spent two and half decades inside.

They moved forward cautiously, weapons up and the drone ahead of them. Reaching the open doorway of the building on the western side, Soares used his boot to move dirt and debris from the ground to uncover a round hatch. He bent down to blow dust from a spinning dial before pulling up his sleeve and checking the numbers written on his skin under the glow from his shrouded flashlight.

Looking up, he caught Cole’s eye and winked. “Old school,” he said, spinning the dial on the hatch right then left then right again until it clicked heavily. It took both men to haul the heavy trapdoor up, and this time, Cole used his own initiative.

“Eighteen, check it out.”

The Tracker whipped its head around to fix on to Cole as soon as he spoke. It didn’t hesitate but responded to the command by crouching into the hole and making the air hum with the metallic clang of its claws hitting the rungs of a steel ladder descending into the darkness below.

They followed, with Soares muttering something about the automatic lights not working before he pulled the trapdoor shut behind him and plunged them into total darkness. Their flashlights clicked on to slash bright beams of white through the blackness underground.

They were in a shaft, about the same size and shape as the old subway tunnels in Chicago, with the ground cutting off the perfect roundness with a flat surface under their boots. Soares took the lead behind the tracker still in scout mode.

Not having the night sky visible above them disorientated Cole as it always did when he traveled any distance beneath the Earth’s surface, so he couldn’t tell how far they’d walked through the dank, musty tunnel before they reached a reinforced door set into the wall. Soares used another number on a mechanical keypad, this one stored in his mind and not written down, and pulled the door open on smooth hinges.

“Eighteen,” he said, “search.”

The Tracker rocketed into the darkness, triggering banks of overhead lights which Cole guessed were motion activated, illuminating racks of stored weapons and a few familiar shapes under dust-covered tarpaulins.

Cole groaned, his thighs and groin already hating him at even the thought of having to ride a quad bike again.

“You love it really,” Soares told him. “Come on. We’ve got maybe ninety miles to cover.”

The exit tunnel, illogically much smaller than the wide tunnel they walked in via, forced them to duck their heads for an uncomfortable mile until daylight showed ahead. A grate swung low to allow them out, but it took both of them to lift it back into position afterward. Soares scuffed his boot over the flattened grass, so the signs of their exit weren’t so obvious to anyone or anything from above.

They headed east, sticking to narrow tracks that had once been roads serving to connect towns filled with tens of thousands of people to each other and the world beyond. Cole rode behind Soares, the drone deactivated and strapped to the rear luggage rack, forcing Cole to fasten his weapon to the handlebars and keep his pack on as they bumped over the uneven surface.

The heavens opened up after an hour on the road, just as they exited the heavy tree cover, and both were soaked to the skin within minutes. Stopping was pointless, so they carried on, albeit at a slower pace as the driving rain blew straight into their faces on a strong wind, blinding the riders.

They rode without taking a break, forcing their way through the weather. They had to get there in time to meet the outgoing convoy, and failure had far-reaching consequences.

Cole struggled to gauge their pacing as the cloud cover was so heavy and ominously gray that the sun’s position was hidden from view, but occasional glances at his watch along with some basic calculations in his head told him they had to be near to their objective.

Three and a half hours, he thought as his teeth chattered involuntarily, twenty-five miles per hour, eighty… eighty something… getting close… must be close.

About a mile past the point when he thought he’d have to call out to Soares and stop, the man in the lead pulled off the road and rode into the trees where the ground bumped and bounced them uncomfortably over tree roots and wet rocks. The sudden diversion turned Cole’s concentration back to where he was aiming the wheels of his quad and away from his soaked and frozen body. Soares, leading at a far slower pace than before, turned the nose of his quad into a dark opening in the ground and ducked to clear the low roof. Cole followed, seeing Soares light up the path with his headlamps.

The tunnel, a long, natural cave unlike the previous man-made ones, wound through the earth ponderously as if following a pattern laid out by nature and hence never following a straight line. Eventually, they stopped, climbing stiffly out of their saddles in a cavern dimly lit by distant sunlight.

“Great,” Soares complained. “Now it stops raining. Typical. We’ll start a fire, dry our gear out.”

Cole, too numb to respond verbally, shrugged off his pack and let it fall to the ground before unstrapping the Tracker and waking it up with a stuttered command.

“G-g-g-guard.”

The drone sparked to life and hopped from the quad to scan the cave and begin a perimeter patrol. Soares was stripping off his clothing, wringing each item out before attempting to strike a fire in nothing but his underwear. The sparks found a small pile of dusty kindling and curls of shaved wood to flare up and crackle instantly.

“Stays pretty dry in here,” he said, his teeth chattering from the cold. Cole struggled to remove his clothes with hands and fingers so numb, he didn’t know if he’d ever feel anything with them again. He squeezed the water from each piece and ended up mostly naked with his skin contracted tightly. Dry logs were stacked in the cave and were added to the flames carefully so as not to smother the fledgling fire or knock the sparks away.

“W-w-who s-set thiss up?” Cole asked, shivering and rubbing his arms with his hands.

“Rub your chest,” Soares told him. “Don’t bother with your extremities.” Mention of extremities made Cole think of a specific body part he’d lost contact with over two hours ago. They put on their dry gear, something Soares had taught Cole on their first mission, and life slowly returned to their skin with each passing minute.

The fire picked up and the heat it kicked out began to warm their skin, but Soares wasn’t content to sit and wait patiently. He used sticks to create a framework, hanging the dripping garments over the horizontal bars near the fire to fill the cave with a gentle sizzling sound.

“Come on,” Soares said, fitting his wet vest back to his body and lifting his rifle. Cole grabbed the shotgun and followed, unsure if he should call the drone to flank him again and deciding that leaving it to guard the cave wasn’t a bad thing. He followed toward the sunlight, seeing that the other exit to the cave looked out over a wide valley stretching far below them. Soares dropped low and pulled a small pair of binoculars from a pouch. Using the scope of his rifle to see, he handed the binoculars to Cole.

“Count two, both with weapons,” Soares said, making Cole’s breath catch in his throat as he hadn’t seen the movements of the shapes far below them. He shifted his sights to where aliens stood in the open on guard, although he couldn’t see what they were guarding.

“Our intel shows this place being the next collection shipment site,” Soares told Cole. “So get comfortable and learn everything you can about them. This is our way in, kid.”

Chapter 16

Lina

Six days spent in the dark, frightening confines of a submarine moving underwater was too much for some people. Lina was suffering; she knew herself well enough to recognize the signs of stress affecting her mood, but the first person to flip out was one of the men brought along to fix the constant issues the machine was plagued by.

It happened during a mealtime, when the few people marking time inside the echoing tube of metal that swung between too hot and too cold, depending on which section they were in, and it happened fast.

Lina was with Monet, sitting at a table far from the others as they usually did. They both whipped their heads around at the sudden noise of a metal tray hitting the deck and clattering loudly. Given how deathly quiet everything usually was, the loud noise followed by the ensuing yells of anger shocked everyone.

“Back off, asshole,” a man yelled. “I was here first.”

“Hey, buddy, relax,” the man being yelled at said, chuckling lightly like he couldn’t believe what was happening. “I’m sorry, okay? Here, take my foo—”

Crash!

The angry man slapped the metal tray out of his hand to spill the contents, following up the outburst with a two-handed shove to his chest, bowling him backwards. More shouts erupted from the others present as a nothing incident blossomed into a full-blown fist fight. The man who had been shoved to the deck scrambled to his feet and advanced on the shorter engineer with sudden purpose, pushing up the sleeves of his coveralls and forming a fist to deliver his response.

Others tried to intervene, but the two men had gone from standing happily in line to tearing chunks out of one another in seconds.

Lina saw Monet’s hand twitch instinctively to the gun she usually wore on her leg, but under the order of Gerard, all weapons were safely shut away, or “stowed,” behind a locked door until they were needed.

Not a woman to be dissuaded by the mere lack of a gun, she rose and walked towards the two men locked in a snarling, spitting embrace as they rolled over and over, each trying to gain the upper hand, and both failing miserably.

To Lina, it resembled two children solving a disagreement in the dirt of the village she grew up in before a parent or another adult waded in to break it up. Watching Monet stalk the fighters, she rose without thinking to back her up.

Monet seized her opportunity when the man who started the whole thing gained the high ground and pinned his victim to the deck, readying a blow that would have done some serious damage if it connected and the guy’s head had nowhere to go.

She grabbed the fist at the furthest part of the backswing and pulled, toppling him off the other guy before she stepped in between them and bawled a single word.

“Enough!”

Her furious roar carried enough authority to snap the taller guy out of his rage, but the engineer stumbled upright and started in her direction. The look in his eyes said it all; he’d lost his mind and would fight anyone right then.

He didn’t get the chance, because Lina’s intercept route had taken her past one of the dropped trays, which she swung with both hands to flatten against his face. He paused for a moment before dropping to the ground with a clatter, the weapon falling from her hands and landing on his legs.

Monet peered at Lina, tried to hide a smile, and managed to nod her thanks to keep her face from breaking apart in a wide grin. She reached down to help the other guy up.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, dabbing at his mouth and coming away with bloody fingertips.

“Thanks yourself,” she replied. “Next time, keep your shit together.”

He covered his face with both oily hands and rocked from side to side as he cried loudly, muttering, “I can’t take it anymore, I can't take it anymore.”

“What the hell’s going on in my galley?” Gerard barked, entering the cramped room with obvious presence. Nobody had the chance to reply as a dull shudder ran through the boat, which resulted in a noticeable reduction in forward momentum. The deck seemed to push upwards against their legs, logic dictating they were heading for the surface, when the noise and vibration of their engines suddenly cut.

“Captain to the bridge,” the boat’s speakers announced in a clipped, urgent tone. Gerard eyeballed the assembled people one more time before leaving and barking over his shoulder, “Get that man medical assistance.”

* * *

“We’re definitely not moving,” Monet said as she paced the tiny compartment she shared with Lina.

Lina was confused, because it certainly felt as though they were. If anything, she reasoned they were swaying more than before whatever had broken had caused them to surface. Monet couldn’t control her own frustration any longer and stormed out of their room to depart up the stairs—or “climbing the ladders,” which was what the same thing on a submarine absolutely had to be called—to reach the bridge where Gerard seemed to be in his element. Lina followed, knowing her well enough to either go with her or stay the hell out of her way.

“Run another test on aft ballast tanks,” he ordered, turning away to peer closely at a display readout.

“Negative, nothing,” the report came back.

“Electrical or mechanical?” Gerard said, making Lina unclear as to whether he was thinking out loud or asking a question of another person.

“Not a frickin’ clue,” another man said as he climbed out from underneath a workstation. “I guess I can check the wiring from here to there, but…” He shrugged, implying that the job would take as long as it took, and he expected it to take a while.

“Do it,” Gerard said. “In the meantime… why the hell are you two in my control room?”

“Finding out what’s going on,” Monet shot back with equal forcefulness. Gerard sighed, remembering himself and deflating a little.

“You know what a ballast tank is?” Lina and Monet exchanged a blank look, making Gerard sigh again and explain it at a basic level.

“The ballast tanks control the boat’s buoyancy—that means we can go up and down under the water by becoming heavier or lighter. You see, we pump air into the tanks to make us move up and we let the seawater in to make us move down. Basically, air is lighter than wa—”

“Skip the Baby Einstein lesson,” Monet said. “We get it. What’s the issue?”

“The issue is that the damn forward tanks decided to purge themselves when we were moving. We can't pump water back into them, so we’re dangling about ten feet under the water, which is why we’re bouncing around more than I’d like. If we try to dive, we’ll just end up dropping her ass until we’re vertical.”

“That’s not good,” Lina said.

“No shit,” Gerard agreed. “So first we have to see why the tanks decided to do their own thing, and second, we need to figure out how we can make them do what we want.”

“How long will that take?” Monet asked. Gerard did not look impressed with her question.

“That depends on what the problem is, and whether we can even fix it. Right now, we’re on the very western edge of the north Pacific, and our nearest land is maybe fifteen hundred miles away, which would mean another week spent on the surface heading south by southeast to Hawaii. We’ve got another three thousand miles to reach our objective, and neither of these options are guaranteed because the damn aliens could find us at any time and sink us with a spork. To answer your original question, it’ll take as long as it takes, or it won't happen at all, and we’ll die out here.”

“What can we do to help?” Monet asked, not taking his frustrated hostility personally.

Gerard sighed again and rubbed a meaty hand over his face.

“Just keep an eye on the crew,” he said. “People are starting to come undone, and I can't waste my time on that shit. We’ll have to surface and check the situation. If we can't find the problem and fix it, we need to find a way around it. If we can't find a way around it, we need to turn tail and head home.”

“Can we go outside?” Lina asked, surprising them both.

“You want to go out on deck?” Gerard asked.

“Yes. Please.”

“I, err, I don’t see why not.” He shrugged as if searching his mind for a logical reason she couldn’t go outside. “Might even help to have some eyes up there looking out for trouble. I’d leave it until the morning if I were you, though. Not much to see out here with the sun on the other side. And you’ll need to wear a life preserver, and nobody ever goes out there alone.”

“Thank you,” Lina said. “I hadn’t even seen the ocean until recently, and I want to see just how big it really is.”

* * *

Lina found out the answer the following dawn. It was unbelievable. So vast was the enormity of their isolation that she was breathless, and when the sun broke over the eastern horizon to transform the glow into a direct beam of bright light unmarred by even a whisper of clouds so far as she could see, a tear rolled from each eye to carve lines down her cheeks.

The beauty of it, the sheer magnitude of what she saw, was almost too much for her sheltered mind to cope with. Her emotions ran riot and she was filled with the overflowing feeling that there was so much more of their world she wanted to see, so many places she wanted to go, that her burning desire to break humanity free from the clutches of the aliens gathered in intensity and renewed the fire within her.

She had no idea how long she stood there, just watching the unending shimmer of gently rolling water reflecting the sun’s rays as it inched higher in the sky until she began to feel the warmth of it banish the chill the pre-dawn air had left her with.

“It’s something, isn't it?” Monet’s voice came to her from the hatch behind leading down into the claustrophobic interior of the submarine. Her words were an understatement. Lina couldn’t imagine there being words in any language worthy of describing her first experience of a sunrise on the open ocean. It came with the knowledge of how so inexplicably tiny she was when compared to the expanse of water she saw around her, and she would carry it around with her in such clarity for the rest of her life.

“It is,” she answered. “It really is.”

Monet completed the awkward climb out from the hatch and walked to stand beside her, boots clanging on the heavy metal of the outer hull, which almost made Lina feel as though their uncomfortable metal tube hadn’t earned the right to be out there.

Perhaps that’s why we’re stranded, she thought, giving in to her natural tendency toward superstition. Perhaps we’ve made the sea unhappy by crossing here… if only it knew we were trying to save it.

“Yeah,” Monet went on, unknowingly spoiling the moment. “Anyway, breakfast is cooking and I need to make sure nobody else fights over it. Come and get some before it’s all gone.”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” Lina told her, closing her eyes and letting the sun warm her skin.

Chapter 17

Jack

Today was the day. Adrenaline had already begun to surge through Jack’s body as they waited. He’d suffered a restless night, and by the looks of the others around him, so had they. Olivia sat in the modified pilot’s chair, seeming as confident as ever. He wondered if that was a thin veneer, and if the woman would crack when the time came to attack. He hoped not.

They’d trained hard over the last week, renewing their optimism, which had dwindled over the last decade. He glanced to his wife, wishing for the fifth time that morning that she’d gone to Norway with Benji.

“It’ll be fine, Jack.” This from Daniel, but a slight waver in his voice betrayed his words.

Beside them was another of the alien’s ships. The Barony, before it was so aptly named, had been founded by a group of tough ex-military members, along with some even harder criminals broken out of a penitentiary along the eastern coast of Scotland. They found one another holed up in northern England, and had taken Jack in. He was a scared kid back then, his parents killed. His sister… gone.

He remembered the first time their group had set a trap for one of these ships. The very one they stood inside now. None of them had thought the plan would work, but their desire for alien blood was too strong to care. To everyone’s surprise, they ended up with the ship, and killed twenty of the bastards at the same time. It was also the first batch of drones they’d acquired.

Jack peered over his shoulder, looking down the hall to the hold where three dozen of the robots sat idly, awaiting his instructions.

The boxy viewscreen window showed nothing but ocean from here on their perch, high on the western tip of France. From here, they could make the trip to Southern Spain in twenty minutes at full thrust. They’d tested the distance across Greenland only three days before.

“This is going to work,” Jack whispered to no one.

“Yes, it is.” Ava’s arm found his waist.

“Jack, this is it. Message incoming from the French woman. Nous sommes ici.”

“They’ve arrived,” Jack said. “Fire up the engines. It’s showtime.”

He’s spent too long sitting patiently, pretending their Barony was a life, a contained environment, but it had been nothing but a make-believe world. This was their reality. And Jack’s time fishing and making beer, playing with his son… that was special, but he was meant to do more. He thought about the meaning behind their groups name. The word baron was derived from the Latin baro, which meant servant or soldier. That was what they were now, and the name had never seemed so fitting.

“Taking us out.” The ship shook as the engines powered up, and seconds later, the old vessel rose from the rocky cliffside.

Sylvie

She watched the new cargo land through her scope and shifted in her hiding spot. The branch of a tree dug into her side, and she felt bugs crawling on her ankles. The transport was different from the spaceships they used, or the hovercars, and she guessed they’d sent this model through the gates. They were snub-nosed, short, and narrow enough to fit through a gateway, unlike the larger vessels. She was grateful they couldn’t bring more reinforcements of their ships, but they’d managed to bring enough through.

From what she could tell, they’d moved some sort of tanks to Earth from wherever they came, as well as countless of their people. The ones she’d seen had been thin, weak almost, but the newest batch… they were thicker, taller. She didn’t want to come face to face with one, not if she could help it.

Maxime was ten yards away, but she was unable to spot him hiding in the brush. She returned her gaze to the transport as it lowered, settling by a building near their main ship. The mine operation was in full swing, as if someone was trying to impress their leader. Sylvie watched closely as the transport opened. A few of the aliens approached, legs bent backwards and moving slowly. One of them reached into a pocket, pulled one of the misters, and breathed deeply before returning it to the safety of its uniform.

More gathered now, and they lined up quickly as one of the aliens stepped off the transport ship’s ramp. It raised an arm, and she saw its slim mouth move. The group of its people echoed a phrase back, some kind of a salute, the noise reaching her ears.

She sent the message on her tablet. “We are here.” Her fingers trembled in anticipation of the looming attack. Her group had remained in hiding all these years, and while they had fought to stay alive, they’d done nothing beyond that. Now they were going to assist in the reclamation of Earth. Gabriel’s death would be avenged, as would Adam’s, along with the billions of others lost to the Occupation.

She found she was smiling as she stared at the newly landed vessel. It was much like a semi-trailer, with thrusters on the bottom. Ten of the aliens ran to the side of it, unlatching the hull. It slammed to the ground, catching one of them in the process. It was pinned to the dirt, arms flailing.

Sylvie cringed as someone pulled a weapon, shooting the injured alien in the head. It stopped moving.

The first large crate was rolled from inside, almost tipping down the ramp. She counted eight crates, each at least ten feet along each side. These had to be the misters. This shipment would be making its way to the Detroit facility next, or perhaps this was their hub, where they would send some of the supply to their African mines.

The crate was unloaded, and they began closing up the transport.

“Come on, come on.” She lowered the scope, peering to the sky above the mines. Where were they? If the misters got away, this was all for nothing. Destroying the mine, an enemy vessel, and three hundred aliens would be a good day, but the Reclaimers had a plan, and the devices would give them the upper hand they needed.

Plus, the way this group was deferring to the newcomer, he was clearly important to them. The old phrase about cutting the head off the snake came to mind, and Sylvie reached behind her, pulling the MK-21 and placing it firmly on the ground. Using the telescopic scope, she found the leader in the crosshairs. If they didn’t arrive, she was taking this one for her own.

Sweat dripped down her forehead, but she kept the alien in her sights. It was big… broad at the chest, its face slightly wider than the others. They followed it around as it walked toward the edge of the mine. She had a clear shot, one she knew she could make every time, even with the slight breeze. She accommodated as the wind speed increased, and waited, her finger steady beside the trigger.

The mines were noisy today, so loud, she hardly noticed the slight change in the air as the ships roared toward them from the west. The aliens looked to the skies, and Sylvie’s face scrunched up as she pulled the trigger. Blood burst from the leader as he tumbled forward into the mine. Her reinforcements were here. She reloaded and found another target.

Alec

“Looks like we right in time for da party,” Whittaker shouted, sending their ship to the side as they approached the enemy’s fortification. They’d made the trek through Saskatchewan, up into the Arctic Circle, before using the emptiness of Greenland to once again head south. The oceans were a free-for-all, and they encountered no opposition along their route. Seeing the world like this was eye-opening after years stuck inside a warehouse making the Gate in Detroit.

Alec had been through a lot of the States now, mostly because of his trip with Monet and subsequent journey with his uncle, but nothing had prepared him for the beautiful and harsh nature of the Arctic, or the expanse of the ocean. His heart filled with something he’d never felt before. His eyes were open, hope and longing for a different end for humanity enveloped him. This had to work. “It has to,” he whispered.

“This is it,” Izzy said, just loud enough over the roar of their ship to hear.

The mine was massive, far bigger than the one Dex described in northern Michigan, and he was glad for that, since Cole and Soares were scoping it out now. He couldn’t think about their mission, only his, and he focused on the task at hand.

“Over there!” Bailey yelled, pointing toward the vast windows.

Alec noticed the other ships, two of them, both like the one they occupied, but there were intricate crowns painted on the sides of these. The Barony was here. This Jack Paulson seemed like a strong leader, and Alec was looking forward to meeting him later as they found their rendezvous point after the battle. If there was a battle.

Their ship jostled hard, sending Alec to his ass. Izzy was above him, clutching a cloth strap that kept her on her feet. She helped him up, and their vessel shook again as another projectile struck them from the ground.

“I think they’ve spotted us,” Izzy said.

“Whittaker, bring us up. We need to find the misters’ location,” Alec ordered.

“Sylvie told us it’s near the outbuilding, a squat structure adjacent to the south edge of the mine,” Bailey said, and Alec used the ship’s controls to access the undermount camera system. He spotted the transport ship, and sent Jack a message. “We’re landing a mile north. Target is here.” He keyed in the coordinates from his screen, and hit send.

“Land us,” Alec told the old man, his hair even wilder today as he nodded fervently.

Another blast struck their hull, but they moved on, settling to the ground a mile away, a distance still within range, but far enough that the tanks seemed to have an issue with aim. Alec ran to the drones, slamming his hand against the hatch-release button. He used his tablet to wake the robots, and on his orders, they rose, exiting through their opening on the side of the hull. He cringed as they whirred and buzzed, weapon systems powering up.

The Seekers and Trackers had their targets. The aliens. The Overseers would feel the Reclaimers’ wrath, a penance for murdering so many innocent humans with the very same drones. Alec felt satisfaction as he watched the last of their collection leave the ship, and he shut the hatch, returning to the bridge.

In the sky, the Barony was wreaking havoc on the mine, but the two tanks guarding the area were blasting toward their allies’ ships.

“Bring us into the fight, Whittaker.”

“Yes, sir.”

Chapter 18

Sw-18

[STEALTH SETTING ENGAGED]

[SCANNING…]

[FOUR AERIAL SURVEILLANCE DRONES DETECTED – HUMAN DESIGNATION: SEEKER]

[SCANNING…]

[SEEKER DRONES ON SET PATROL PATTERN]

[SUCCESS PERCENTAGE OF DRONE DESTRUCTION WITHOUT DETECTION… 87.4%]

[CONFIRM OVERSEER PRESENCE: TIMES THREE]

[BIOLOGICAL ASSESSMENT INDICATES ADULT MALES]

[DESIGNATE TARGETS: 1,2,3]

[ARMAMENTS INDICATE PERSONAL WEAPONS LOADOUT ONLY]

[ASSESSMENT: NOT PREPARED FOR IMMINENT HOSTILE ACTION]

[DISTANCE TO TARGET 1 – 312 METERS]

[DISTANCE TO TARGET 2 – 344 METERS]

[DISTANCE TO TARGET 3 – 345 METERS]

[ASSESSING CONDITIONS…]

[TEMPERATURE 53.6 DEGREES]

[WIND SPEED: NEGLIGIBLE]

[LIKELIHOOD OF PRECIPITATION 29.7%]

[TWO HOURS FOURTEEN MINUTES AND NINE SECONDS UNTIL SUNDOWN]

[SENDING REPORT TO HUMAN CONTROLLER…]

[…]

[…]

[ORDERS RECEIVED]

[RECOMMENCING GUARD PROTOCOLS]

Cole

Cole handed the tablet over to Soares and watched as the former United States Marine scanned the information and nodded before returning it. Cole wasn’t sure if he was satisfied with the intelligence that the drone had gathered or whether it was appreciation for his idea to use it.

The instructions weren’t difficult to provide; he just told the soulless machine to describe and assess the enemy and the conditions before reporting back, at which time he set it to return to protect them for a lack of any other ideas.

They weren’t expecting to witness any major occurrence, but they needed to know the lay of the land before the expected convoy arrived to haul away the raw materials the aliens wanted to transport back to the Gateway and through to wherever it went.

Neither of them said anything about it, but both knew deep down that the chances of them returning were slim. They were actually planning to go through an alien portal to another world—at least they assumed it was to another planet and not some collection site in the vacuum of space—and given how neither of them understood much about space, then their hopes of survival were a shot in the dark to say the least. As if reading Cole’s thoughts, Soares stretched and spoke in a low voice.

“You know, not long after I got outta the military, we had a new branch called the Space Force,” he said. Cole scoffed involuntarily, watching Soares out of the corner of his eye in case he took offense. He didn’t, and couldn’t, resist his own subdued laughter.

“Seriously, I mean, we all thought it was a joke, but it was for real. They had an emblem and everything, like it was straight outta Star Trek or something.”

“Star Trek…?”

Soares, already lying on his front on top of his sleeping bag, thunked his face into the material and the foam bedding roll beneath.

“Aw, kid, I can’t even begin to fill that knowledge gap for you… forget it. Anyway, like I said, we all thought it was a joke, but straight up, they started recruiting. They took a lot of crap for wanting to be Space Marines. Gotta admit, though, I had half a mind to re-enlist for it, but then I was accepted to Capitol PD… anyway, what I’m saying is we were on the verge of having our people in outer space in case shit like this happened and we had to fight or something.” He laughed again, this time darkly and without any trace of humor. “When these bastards came, they wiped us out in minutes. I saw F-18’s going down like we were using wooden bi-planes against modern fighter jets. We didn’t stand a damned chance. It was like they were playing college football against us and we were high school freshmen.”

Cole stayed silent, not understanding most of what he said but getting the feeling that Soares was describing an unfair fight. He let that silence stretch out until Soares groaned and climbed to his feet to take something from his pack and walk toward the other end of their now warm and dry cave.

“I’ll be right back,” he called. “We’ll eat and get some sleep, ready for tomorrow.”

Cole looked down at the tablet.

“Sounds good,” he said to himself, taking one last glance at the immobile statue that was the drone guarding their position.

Alec

Chaos had erupted everywhere. The mine in Spain was a flurry of activity, and they’d only been there for a few minutes. The Barony pilots were good, weaving the huge ships with greater ease than Alec had thought possible. The tank fire was erratic, only blasting toward them every minute or so, sending an energy array into the sky. It was clear they needed time to recharge, and Alec questioned the poor technology. The Overseers hadn’t been expecting retaliation. They never did.

Their biggest concern was destroying the misters during this attack. It was the main piece to the puzzle. Cut off their supply of the things keeping them alive on Earth, then making them sick with the replacement batch. If Cole and Soares could sabotage the gates, then they had a real shot at this. His hands sweated as he used the weapon controls, dropping everything he had on the site below.

The mine was a mess, the deep walls crumbled under the barrage of artillery, and the excavating machinery lay in heaps under the rubble. As soon as they’d destroyed the cutting machines, the entire area grew eerily quiet, and all he could hear was their ship’s engines, the sound of tank fire, and his own heart beating hard in his chest.

Then a newer version of the hovercars entered the fray, lifting from within a bay beside the residence.

“Barony, target their building!” Alec shouted, using the tapped-in frequencies of the mine’s robots now, not caring who heard them. Even if their enemy translated their dialogue, it would be too late.

“On it,” the reply came, quick and terse, and Alec noticed one of the Barony ships leave its partner, heading above the incoming hovercars.

These vessels were faster than the other models, and a projectile shot from the lead vessel blasted their spacecraft. The ship shook violently, sending Alec reeling, but he was smart enough to hold on this time.

“Think we gonna crash here.” Whittaker’s voice was shrill.

Alec aimed, firing a rapid volley of shots toward the twin hovercars, striking one hard. It smoked, spinning erratically, as it hurtled into the obliterated mine below.

Whittaker was right. They were going down. “Bring us near the misters!” Alec shouted, his voice straining to be louder than their whining engines.

“Barony, cover us! We’re going to the ground.” Alec dropped the comms, pulling Izzy with him to the rear of the ship. Bailey followed along with her top five soldiers near the exit. They were armed to the teeth, explosives prepped, M16s locked and loaded. Bailey’s eyes were hard, focused.

“You stay in here,” she ordered.

Alec shook his head. “We’re coming.”

“Fine, but at least put one of these on.” She reached to the wall, tossing them thick Kevlar vests. Izzy fell to the floor, sliding away as Whittaker directed them to the softest landing he could. They hit hard. Alec slammed down, trying to soften his blow, and when the ship creaked to a halt, Bailey pressed the doors open. The Reclaimer soldiers rushed over the ramp, Alec following. The lead soldier dropped to the packed ground; head half gone.

Aliens were pouring from the transport vehicle, probably happy to have targets on the ground. Alec had never seen any like these. They were bigger, faster, angrier than the sullen, sloth-like Overseers from the factory. It hadn’t occurred to them there might be different groups of them, soldiers, scientists… factory managers.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the fallen soldier as he jumped over him, gun in his grip. He followed Bailey’s lead as they moved for the mister transport. She fired at the incoming enemy, striking a few from a distance. Two of the soldiers stopped, aiming their weapons. They swept the rocky path, hitting more aliens, and sending a plume of dust into the sky as they drew a line in the sand.

Alec noticed a few Trackers stalking toward the aliens, and for a moment, he thought they might turn on the Reclaimers’ programming. Instead, they opened fire, causing the aliens to seek cover.

They stopped, and Alec glanced to the sky. It appeared as though they were winning the battle. Only two tanks were left from what he could see, each at least a half mile from their position. Something exploded with a massive concussion, and everyone turned their eyes toward the building the Barony had been sent to destroy. All that remained was a smoldering hole, the spaceship swooping overhead so loudly, it sounded like the atmosphere was being torn open.

A pulse of energy shot at them, and then another. The Overseers had broken from their reverie and were fighting back. Alec glanced at Izzy, who wore a deep frown as she stepped out from behind a rock. They were everywhere here, giving the Reclaimers some cover, but the aliens were pressing forward. Alec rose, aiming and pulling the trigger. His shots went wide, and he adjusted. There were over twenty of them, and a few ran at their group.

Bailey crouched between two boulders, and Alec noticed her hitting one of the rushing aliens in the knee as it bounded forward. It fell, sliding on the ground. Its ally used it as a steppingstone to push forward, offering no indication of assistance.

Izzy cursed, her Beretta magazine empty. “Always bring a backup!” Bailey shouted, tossing one to her. She fumbled with her gun, trying to catch the incoming with her one hand.

Another of their soldiers was struck with the energy blast, a gaping hole in her chest.

Alec gulped, turning to return fire. They were holding their own, but there were still two aliens coming straight for them, somehow avoiding death. Bailey stood there, her gun clicking empty as the nearest jumped, flying ten feet in the air to land right before her.

Sylvie

Sylvie reloaded, setting her sights on the two stampeding aliens. They were fast, hard to track with the zoomed in scope. “Come on. Stop. Stop.” She took a deep breath, holding it as she moved her finger to the trigger. Her heartbeat, twitching the aim ever so slightly.

The monstrous alien jumped, so high, and landed right in front of the Reclaimers. She was about to pull the trigger when the alien dropped, a bullet through its head.

She glanced to Maxime, who let out a cheer from his hidden position. Good work, kid. She moved the aim, finding the second arriving creature, and one of the Reclaimers tussled with it before another arrived to shoot it point blank in the head.

She breathed smoothly, once again, moving her target to the distant aliens, waiting near the mister transport. She aimed and fired. Again. Again. The Reclaimers were close to them now, proceeding forward with speed. Maxime took out another, and soon there were no enemies between the transport and the Reclaimers.

Alec

Alec patted his chest, finding no holes. His heart raced so hard, he thought it might explode. Three of their soldiers were down, Izzy was bleeding from her right arm, but she swore it was only a graze.

The transport was quiet, and Bailey raised a hand, silently indicating she was going around the vessel. Alec guessed they might find some hidden enemies inside or around the edge, but she came back, walking with confidence. There were at least ten Trackers in their vicinity, another twenty or so shiny metal drones in the air, telling Alec their adversaries were taken care of.

“It seems we’re alone,” Bailey said as the engines fired up on the transport. An alien head was visible from inside the cockpit, and the ship rose, plowing into the woman as it took off.

Bailey crumpled to the ground, and Alec ran to her side, peering up at the escaping supply of misters. He grabbed his tablet, plugging the earpiece into his ear. “Barony! Get that ship! I repeat, get that ship!”

Jack

“Sir, it’s getting away,” Laurie said, pointing at the radar.

“Shit. Barony Omega, take the last tank out. Olivia, hunt the bloody thing!” Jack bit down hard, nicking his tongue as they jerked upward. He took the weapon controls, firing toward the transport vehicle. They knew why the attack had taken place. Their hope had been that the Overseers would see the misters being destroyed as happenstance of the mine assault. They needed to end it now.

“Tank destroyed. All enemy defeated,” Omega vessel communicated.

“Not all of them.” Jack fired again, the transport moving over the ocean now. He smiled as he realized their target couldn’t outrun them. It was slow, didn’t maneuver well with the tiny thrusters. It was meant to deliver goods, not fend off battles. Jack breathed easier, focusing his aim. He tapped the trigger, the missiles releasing from the underside of their old alien space craft. The transport exploded, instantly falling toward the water.

The crew let out a cheer, and Jack grinned. It felt good to finally be out of the shadows, and in the fight.

Alec

The second Barony ship arrived a half hour after the transport had departed, dragging the broken container full of misters with it.

Alec glanced at the bodies of the four fallen Reclaimers and counted themselves lucky that was all they had lost. Somehow, they’d managed to destroy the entire mine, and a couple hundred aliens with only the loss of Bailey and her three soldiers. It still felt like too big of a loss.

Izzy set a hand on his back, comforting him. “We did well.”

The other Barony ship had landed, and together, they’d cleared the whole mine, circling around to ensure no aliens were hiding, and that all of the tanks were indeed destroyed. The mining equipment still burned inside the crumbled pit, and the entire region reeked of metal and something more primal.

“Who’s there?” Izzy shouted.

“Je suis Sylvie. Il est Maxime,” the woman said. She was covered in branches and leaves, her face painted to match. She carried the longest gun Alec had ever seen, and the man beside her waved at them, a smile over his broad face.

The first Barony ship opened, revealing ten or so people stalking from the ramp. They were all armed, the leader frowning as he landed on the hard ground. “Which one of you is Alec?” he asked, shoving the gun in a holster on his chest.

Alec stepped forward, raising a hand. The man was at least forty, trimmed beard, dark hair, and his eyes danced as the corners of them wrinkled into a smile. “We did it!” He pulled Alec into a hug and released him quickly, setting his hands on Alec’s shoulders. “We bloody well did it!”

Alec struggled to feel his elation as they stood so close to their fallen allies, but he smiled regardless, thrilled their plan actually worked. “Sylvie, where are your people now?” he asked.

Her eyebrows furrowed, and the young man beside her leaned in, repeating the words in French. It seemed he spoke English, which would aid their cause. “Ready for extrication in the South of France.”

A beautiful woman walked beside Jack, kissing the Barony leader on the cheek. “My wife, Ava. This is Daniel, my right-hand man.”

“Izzy Zhao,” Izzy told him, shaking his hand.

“I don’t think lingering here is a great idea.” Alec pointed to the transport with the misters. It was still wet, dripping ocean water on the rocks. “Let’s destroy this and move to our rendezvous. We’ll blast the Gateway on exit.”

Jack nodded. “I like the way you think, Mason. You heard the man. Into the skies. Shoot the targets and return to our muster point.” He winked at Alec returning to his ship. Whittaker cleared his throat behind Alec, and he remembered they’d been gunned down.

“Do you mind if we catch a ride?” Alec asked.

Jack laughed again, waving them on board.

“We have them too.” Alec indicated the incoming Trackers and Seekers.

“Not a problem. Send them to Omega,” Jack said, and Alec used the tablet to give the drones instructions. Soon they were filing into the other massive alien vessel with a crown painted on the outer hull.

Once they’d loaded their fallen soldiers into a storage closet for a proper burial, it was time to depart.

Sylvie and Maxime joined the last few of the Reclaimers on Barony Alpha, and minutes later, they were lifting away from the mine, Alec thrilled to be done with the battle. He pictured Tom’s face in front of him, and could almost hear his uncle’s words. “You did well, son.”

“Targeting the Gateway,” Jack said, and Alec stared out the cockpit viewscreen, Izzy huddled around the pilot’s chair with him. Whittaker was checking out the modifications to the controls, asking too many questions, while the pilot, Olivia, tried her best to focus and ignore the old man.

The Gateway was powered off, and Alec almost expected it to be an easy target. Jack released a series of the alien bombs from the belly of the ship. They exploded all around the immense gate, and it flashed blue as an invisible shield protected it.

“Looks like they know how to make them last,” Jack said. “Olivia, bring us around.” He tried again, with the same result.

“I think we’d better go,” Alec urged the Barony leader, and Jack nodded.

“Let’s hope your brother has better luck with the gates than we did.” The ship lurched, turning north toward their eventual destination, which was far from here.

The mines smoked as they left, Alec’s chest filled with both regret and pride.

Chapter 19

Cole

The night spent in the cave was surprisingly comfortable so far as Cole’s standards went. He’d spent more than half his nights living al fresco as he called it, only now realizing the term was one he didn’t understand and had come from Tom when he was younger.

That thought dropped his mood into a deep depression that manifested itself as anger, and as his chest began to rise and fall faster, he fought to control himself. He failed, and the tracker drone suddenly raised up from its position sitting and scanning the cave entrances to pad heavily over to him and stare with its eyeless head.

“Get lost,” he hissed, not wanting to wake up Soares but angry at the intrusion of the machine. It didn’t budge, so he shoved it with his right hand and succeeded only in jarring his wrist on the cold metal.

“You hear me? Move outta here. Go!”

The drone backed away, returning to its position guarding their hiding place, but on the way, it performed another function Cole wasn’t expecting. It stopped, looked at the fire, then turned to pick up a small log from the stack to drop it into the flames before returning to where it had been before and resuming the slow rotation of the head to scan the darkness.

Cole lowered, adjusting his position slightly for comfort, and stared at the ceiling of the cave where the small flames cast long shadows. He was worried about their spot being visible, but Soares assured him that they were in dead ground from the mine there.

Cole had spent his life much the same way, only his concern was keeping himself out of sight of everything and everyone.

Guessing he wouldn’t sleep much, he allowed his mind to wander and take him into an almost hypnotic state, which was the closest he could get to proper rest. His body wouldn’t heal unless he went into a deep sleep; he knew that from the days he had spent running during his existence alone when the drones had chased him, not stopping until he was certain there was nothing following his trail.

Beside him, Soares snored lightly, each breath getting gradually louder until Cole was forced to intervene and nudge him. To his credit, and in spite of being twice Cole’s age, he woke instantly and placed a hand on his weapon in case it was needed.

“You were snoring,” Cole said softly, earning a grunt in response as Soares turned over onto his front and wriggled until he found a position he accepted as comfortable enough to drift off to sleep. He did in about eight seconds flat, which made Cole both jealous and impressed at the same time. He lay there like that for an hour at least, watching the only movement beside the flickering flames and their answering shadows of the Tracker’s head rotating slowly from side to side as it kept watch over them.

Dawn came, bringing with it a renewed wind and a light rain that reduced their visibility. The fire was still burning at the lowest possible level, showing that the drone had some hidden subroutine about fires and had kept adding logs undetected as they slept.

Cole sat up, surprised to find that Soares had risen without disturbing him. As he looked around, seeing neither drone nor companion, he heard the approach of footsteps from the other end of the cave and watched as Soares walked into sight fully dressed, with his rifle slung. Stuffing a sealed plastic bag of paper into his pack, Cole’s body nagged at him that he should take care of things too.

Returning to the cave a short time later, he nodded his thanks as Soares wordlessly handed him a cup of something hot.

“Convoy should arrive today,” he told Cole. “We’ll set up in the same spot as yesterday. It’s got air cover, not that I’m expecting it to be heavily guarded or anything, but it’ll be worth taking your bed roll because we could be there for a while.”

Cole nodded again, realizing that he was facing away from Soares and staring fixedly into the fire, so he answered him out loud.

“Cool,” he said, and because that felt unworthy, he added, “We’re just watching and learning, right?”

“Observe and report,” Soares replied. “Nothing more.”

* * *

They moved into position before the sun was fully up, after Cole had sent the Tracker out to conduct another covert reconnaissance of the area and found it much the same as before. The only difference were the two alien guards there to complement the four deployed Seekers that stayed close to the sunken entrance to the mine.

Cole lay face down on his bed roll, his pack under his upper body to relieve the pressure on his spine just as Soares, who was an arm’s length to his left, had shown him. Cole’s shotgun was beside his right leg—close enough to use but out of the way, while Soares’ rifle was rested on the ground in front of him to allow him to use the scope.

“Any updates?” he asked, his voice above a whisper but far below normal volume. Cole looked at the tablet, tapping the icon to refresh which prompted the drone deployed below and left of their elevated position to scan the ground and give the same text report. Soares stayed silent, patiently waiting as the information was fed back to him.

“Two aliens and four Seekers. No change.”

They lay in silence for a long time as the woodland surrounding them came to life in that way the outdoors did when it transitioned from night to day. New animals came out of hiding, not even aware that they had nocturnal counterparts that were already hidden away.

“Reminds me of my last deployment,” Soares murmured. “I swear, that damn country was created by God just to mess with soldiers.”

“What country?” Cole asked, eyes still glued to the binoculars and voice mirroring the same low tone.

“Afghanistan. More like the surface of the moon than anywhere else, least the parts I saw anyway.”

Cole stayed silent, unsure how to prompt him to say more about it and intrigued by tales of another land.

“So many people tried to take over the country before, a couple thousand years ago from what I read, but more recently, the Brits and the Russians got their asses kicked trying it.” He chuckled softly. “Weird, but when the Russians tried it, us and the Brits trained and supplied the locals. They called it a proxy war, because of the Cold War, you know?”

Cole had no idea, but he wanted to hear more. He could always circle back to the history lesson if the day dragged on.

“Why were you there?”

“The first time? Fighting the Taliban, right before we got OBL. Second time I was with NATO—that’s the name for an alliance of countries—and it was much the same only with a different political agenda or whatever.” He sighed, as if realizing he was speaking about a world Cole had never known.

“Anyway, my unit was deployed to an FOB, a forward operating base, and I spent days at a time staring down the barrel of a gun, watching for anyone with an AK approaching our position. The hard part was that every goatherder there seemed to have one…”

“And?” Cole asked.

“And what?”

“Did you get attacked?”

“Not that time, no,” Soares answered with a far-off edge to his words. Before Cole could ask about the time he was confronted, the tablet let out a soft but insistent warning bleep. Snatching it up, he saw the drone report update flashing on the screen.

[INCOMING VESSELS]

“Here it comes,” Soares said, shifting his position slowly to watch the approaching transport ship settle in to turn its back end toward the mine entrance. Cole adjusted the aim of his binoculars and watched as the ugly, boxy craft pivoted in the air. A second ship, a small patrol escort like their own captured version, hovered at a higher altitude in a kind of overwatch.

“Task the Tracker to keep watch on that patrol,” Soares muttered, making Cole use the voice transmit function through the tablet to relay the commands. “If it detects us, I want to know immediately,” Soares added, evidently concerned about the unexpected escort.

“Movement at the mine,” Cole said.

“I see them,” Soares answered, voice slightly distorted as he screwed his face up to the eyepiece of the scope on his weapon. They watched in silence as a series of multi-legged robots exited the mine, each dragging a square sack of minerals from underground to load the transport. Neither of them could figure out how many of the mining drones, each looking like big spider-like insects, there were because of the constant rotation in and out.

“See that one?” Soares asked. “Third one from the ship now?” Cole did. “See how it has a flash of white on one leg?” Again, Cole saw it, guessing on some kind of damage or a noticeable repair to the drone. He didn’t need to say more as he figured out what Soares was doing.

Counting each drone in turn until the one with the distinguishing mark returned, they both agreed on twenty-eight mining drones being there.

“Unless there’s more underground,” Cole said.

“At least twenty-eight then,” Soares agreed.

They watched for over four and a half hours until the flow of drones stopped appearing from the mine. Either that meant they’d run out of mined resources or the transport was full.

“Okay,” Soares said, carefully removing the magazine from his rifle and pulling back the charging handle to slide one specific bullet directly into the weapon. “Firing marker in three, two…”

The gun spat once, not banging like a conventional bullet did, to send the slow-moving projectile toward the angular transport ship. Neither of them saw the magnetic dart land, but Cole’s fingers danced over the tablet to show it had made contact with the hull and was passively announcing its presence on their frequency.

After the transport lifted up and away from the ground to rotate and head southeast, Soares ran the mental calculations out loud.

“Eight sacks each minute, four hundred eighty an hour… Four and a half hours makes… two thousand…”

“Twenty-one-fifty,” Cole said, knowing he’d slightly underestimated the total number but not by much. “Two thousand tons?”

“That’s… a lot,” Soares said. “Assuming the bags were a ton apiece anyway.”

“Even half of that is a lot,” Cole said, lapsing into a heavy silence at how fast their planet was being stripped.

“We wait another hour,” Soares said, “then head back. We can see how long it takes to get to Detroit and go through the Gateway.”

If it goes through the Gateway, Cole thought. Everything’s “if.”

Chapter 20

Dex

The mood around Detroit had been okay the day before. The aliens were clearly not thrilled about finding the base in Florida empty, but some of them were taking it as a sign of their power. The newcomers were a different breed from the creatures Dex had grown up with, and as much as he’d hated the original ones, these were far worse. They nearly spat at him when they saw him around the facility. Twice he’d been shoved out of the way by one of the hulking aliens, and it had taken all his restraint not to blow one of their faces off with his Glock.

Hansen was pacing the rooms of Dex’s suite, and it was a far cry from the first night he’d spent in there. Gone was the fresh fruit, the wine, the clean bedding. The only food in Detroit was the old slop they used to feed the slaves. Dex jammed his spoon into the bowl and he let go, the utensil sticking up straight in the dense gloop.

“This isn’t good,” Hansen said. Dex hadn’t seen the other humans since leaving them in New Jersey, and he suspected they were already dead. He was amazed he was still alive.

“Hansen.” Dex had the urge to just off the guy and sneak out. It was more than the scumbag deserved.

He closed his eyes, seeing Tom’s head snapping back as he was killed in cold blood. Instead of reaching for his gun, he grabbed his spoon, forcing down more of the sticky mess.

“What?” The man’s eyes were crazy.

“They seem bothered today. What the hell is going on?” Dex asked.

“They don’t speak to me anymore. My contact told me it's out of his hands,” Hansen said.

“What does that mean, out of his hands? What is?” Dex was growing tired of this. It was time to make his move.

“All of it. My safety. He’s no longer in charge, that much is clear. I overheard them talking. The mining is going well. Better than they suspected,” Hansen said, his voice quiet, more lisp than normal.

“Does that mean they’re going to leave?” Dex asked, doubting it would be so simple.

“One of them estimated another year.”

“Then what?”

“The end.”

Dex took another bite, his stomach acid churning. “That’s it, then? They take the ore, any other resources they want, and cause our extinction?”

“Looks like it,” Hansen said.

“Was there ever an island?” Dex asked.

Hansen shook his head. “I don’t think so. We needed to keep them in line. I…”

“You thought if you were loyal to the bitter end, they would reward you,” Dex told him.

“That’s right. What choice did I have? You’ve seen what they’re capable of when motivated. Not that you’re any better, Hunter.” The man stopped his pacing. Dex glanced up at him, a shell of the Major that had killed Travis Mason. He was sweating through his dress shirt, his suit jacket discarded near the door.

Dex didn’t have a comeback, so he only nodded slowly. “You’re right.”

Hansen had looked ready for a fight, but he hung his head in defeat, slumping to a chair. “How do you eat that?”

“Nothing else to eat.” Dex took another mouthful. He’d had worse on the road before, but he doubted the privileged man would understand.

“We should do something.”

“What is there to do?” Dex asked.

“I don’t know. Nothing.” Hansen rose sometime later.

“See you tomorrow.” Hansen reached for his jacket, and Dex’s fingers drifted to his gun. He pressed his eyes closed, letting the traitor leave. It wouldn’t do any good to kill him, not when the aliens were near enough to hear the gunfire.

Dex waited another ten minutes and headed to the bedroom where a few extra things had been given to him when he’d first arrived. He stuffed the spare pants and shirts into his duffle, wishing there was food to go along with it. In the kitchen, he shoved three bottles of water into the pack and hefted it over his shoulder.

It was long past his time to go. He’d learn nothing else from the enemy, not with Hansen out of the loop like this. The only thing sticking around would do was get him killed.

He slid the tablet out, hoping for news on the Spain mission, and found an unopened notification. He moved to the door, flipping the deadbolt closed before checking the message. They’d done it! The Mason kid had actually pulled it off. The mine was destroyed, but the Gate remained.

Dex flicked the blinds open, staring at the inactive Gate looming in his suite’s view across the field. These things weren’t going to be simple to destroy, so maybe this Soares cat had the right idea about going inside. Dex could have volunteered himself for that job, but he assumed the captain had more experience and a better skillset for that type of task. It was likely Dex would access it, only to be caught and executed instantly, adding to the security of the gates.

It was still early afternoon, and Dex needed to find a way to sneak out of camp without anyone seeing him. It might be as simple as walking away, but these new alien reinforcements seemed to be watching closer than the previous postings.

The sound of their spaceship’s engines cut through the air, and Dex opened the door, finding Hansen sitting on his own steps the unit over. His hand was placed over his forehead, blocking the sun as he stared into the sky.

“What’s going on?” Dex asked.

“Something about one of their mines being attacked.” Hansen laughed, and Dex noticed the sunlight glint off a bottle in the man’s other hand. “Good for them. Who knew the Vermin had a spine. Maybe I was on the wrong side after all.” He took a long pull from the clear bottle.

Dex didn’t comment. “They look like they’re mounting a retaliation.”

“You know that west coast facility we found the location for in Jacksonville?” Hansen’s lisp was worse with the liquor in his system.

“Sure.”

“That’s where they’re going. Tonight. Late, from what I hear,” Hansen said.

“Are we going?” Dex asked.

The man sloppily shook his head. “Nope. We’re done.”

Dex didn’t engage. He watched the ships landing, three of them in total, and saw the line of two hundred or so alien soldiers begin piling into the first craft. He slipped back into his room and sent a warning to the Reclaimers. It might not be much, but it was about all the help Dex could offer them at the moment.

When he returned outside, pack on his shoulder, Hansen was gone. Dex walked along the three-story brick building, peered both directions, and began to jog. Away from the Detroit manufacturing plant, the Gateway, the Overseers, and hopefully from the Occupation. He was done with it all.

He almost reached a wooden fence that ran along the outer parking lot. It had a couple old rusted-out cars still parked there, and he glanced back to the Gateway one last time, before he hit something like a wall.

The alien stood firm, muscles flexing as it chittered loudly, shaking its head on its thick neck. Dex got the point. He almost reached for his gun, but something told him that wouldn’t end well. The alien motioned him toward the three landed spaceships, and he nodded, resigned to never break free of his oppressors’ hold over him.

The alien grabbed his duffel bag, tearing it open instead of unzipping it. He dumped the contents, the tablet falling to the concrete. Dex tensed. That held too many secrets. This was it…

The creature stomped a three-toed foot on it, crushing the screen. He shoved Dex forward, spewing out a series of words in his native tongue. The autumn day was hot, warmer than it should have been for this late in the season, and Dex was sweating in his leather jacket. He plodded along wordlessly, seeming to annoy the Overseer with his slow pace.

Every few steps, he was pushed forward angrily, but Dex didn’t speed up for it. They arrived at the field near the Gateway, and Dex cringed as he saw more and more aliens piling into the third vessel. They weren’t holding back on this attack. Dex hoped the west coast had received his message, because this was going to be a one-sided war otherwise. By the looks of things, it was going that direction regardless.

Hansen stood near the last ship, swaying in the breeze, the bottle still in his hand. His face was clammy and pale, his scar puckered and pink in the sunlight.

“Looks like we have one last task, Hunter.”

“Seems so,” Dex replied. His escort grunted, forcing Dex up the ramp and into the ship. It was filled with the aliens, their musky scent overwhelming. He fought the urge to gag and moved along the wall, trying to find a spot with fewer of the beasts huddled so close.

The ships rose from Detroit, and he wished he could have told the others their main US facility was currently unguarded, but that would only mess up Soares and the other Mason’s plans.

He closed his eyes, trying to breathe through his mouth as the alien vessel lurched from the ground, higher into the hot autumn sky.

Chapter 21

Zhao

Gregory Zhao was no coward, despite what that bastard Tom Mason said of him. He deflated, cursing himself for his harsh thoughts about a man who had given his life so willingly. He’d done it to give the surviving humans on the planet the chance to spark the flame of rebellion. He was torn between telling people—proving to them—that he hadn’t sat on the west coast for twenty-five years hiding away. That he wasn’t hoping the monsters would simply disappear like he was a child in bed squeezing his eyes closed and pulling the covers up tight to banish the nightmare. Instead, he wanted them to know he was a brave, cautious, and meticulous leader who was waiting for the conditions to become optimal.

Those conditions were far from perfect, but since the Mason boys had arrived, wanting to unite the world and retaliate, the decision to abandon their base was taken out of his hands.

For the last two days, ever since the credible intelligence about the impending attack had been argued over and eventually believed, the survivors of the human race had been ferried north and their one exhausted pilot pushed herself harder than he felt was safe.

Safer than staying put, he thought, wincing at the implied risk he left others in.

There was no hope, none at all, of evacuating everyone. To that end, the underground bunkers were filled with people and supplies, and only those able to maintain the fight were sent away in the desperate hope of keeping the machine of revolt turning.

Anyone not fighting had been asked to leave, intending to survive this latest threat as they had lived: by their own guile and strength of character.

Leading these hundreds of people was the big, strong Freeborn who had volunteered for every dangerous assignment and had been denied for a number of reasons. When he came to Zhao with this plan, he was surprised to be granted permission and asked to begin immediately. His people, the seemingly endless snake of humanity departing from a place they hoped was safe, now had a full day and a half head start on whatever atrocities were coming for them.

Zhao scoffed to himself in dark amusement at the fact that the warning of their impending annihilation had come from someone who only too recently had been an enemy of their race, a traitor to his own species, but it was that very duplicity which had prompted the laughter.

He stood, tugged down the vest he wore festooned with spare ammunition for his shotgun, and drained the dirty glass of rust-colored drink before pulling a face as the courage-enhancing substance infused his body with the resignation and will to fight to the end.

Gregory Zhao was no coward, and maybe those who saw him as one would live to tell the story that proved that once and for all.

Everyone, man and woman alike, who formed the small group intending to stay and defend the base for as long as possible was a volunteer. Considering their force was expecting this choice to be the final one of their lives, there were many of them.

They listened intently as Zhao laid out his plans for the stages of their defense. There was an air of informality to that briefing, an intimacy even, and more than one set of eyebrows went up when he unveiled the hidden weaponry at their disposal.

“You think we’ve been sitting idle for two decades?” he asked with a wry smile. “We cleaned out every military station, warehouse, and armory within three hundred miles, and now these bastards are going to find that out the hard way.”

* * *

CONFIRM [EIGHTEEN] TARGETS LOCKED. FIRE? Y/N

The computer readout was visible through the dust he had hurriedly wiped from the screen. Zhao blew more dirt from the rubberized keyboard and stabbed a decisive finger onto the Y key. Almost immediately, the world hummed with a vibration difficult to describe for anyone not experiencing it firsthand.

Those four buildings, erected years before and carefully crafted to appear as derelict, hid four close-in weapons systems, and the evil and beloved see-wiz—described according to which end of the barrel you were lucky or unlucky enough to be on—barked and burped into life to rattle the unbelievably destructive projectiles toward the enemy ships and tore them into ruin.

The addition of those weapons, a project from an old naval engineer dead these past twelve years, took five years to complete and had been mostly forgotten about by others until now. Just the time to remove them from the destroyed naval ships and transport them to their current positions had been close to two years, and the remainder of the time was spent reconnecting them and ensuring the power supply was sufficient to make them operate properly.

Gregory Zhao was no coward, nor was he in any way a fool, so he kept his cards very close to his chest. The last two minutes had resulted in the biggest losses to the enemy since they’d occupied Earth. He had no time to dwell on that success and even less time to congratulate himself. He hit the keys for the preset controls that lowered the barrels and began a systematic clearing of their once fertile soil to destroy as much of the anticipated inbound alien ground forces.

The guns fired, taking their turn to blast out an overlapping burst so that the four guns played their own song for as long as their ammunition lasted. By the time they’d gone silent, Zhao and all of his remaining forces were long gone from the building controlling them, falling back through a tunnel to the main complex to activate the next part of the attack.

The tactics of that phase were as brutal as using fire as a weapon against people, but he felt no remorse when the cameras in the four tunnels coming from those turret positions filled with the shapes of fast-running aliens heading for what they thought was the command post.

When the camera displaying the inside of the room he had been in not ten minutes before showed a screen packed with confused aliens who saw no escape, he activated that second phase and remote detonated a series of charges that collapsed the tunnels from the outside in to bury scores of them under tons of dirt and rock to die far worse deaths than those torn into bloody ruin in the skies.

Zhao heard no whooping of excitement or delight from his volunteers, because this was the final stand and the only thing they knew for certain was that it would end one way or another.

* * *

They came. Wave after wave after wave of tall, muscular, hideous aliens all baring their teeth and firing their advanced weaponry blindly around corners as they fought through the complex room by room.

The speed of their advance slowed within minutes. From the third section onwards, every other door was rigged with a claymore mine or a grenade of varying description attached to the doorframe by sticky tape, and even in some cases with an open tub of some noxious substance like hydrochloric acid perched above a partly open door to injure and maim or otherwise delay their advance.

It worked. As hyped-up and aggressive as the aliens were, after seeing their own kind thrown down missing feet or arms, horribly burned or smoldering as the skin peeled from their faces made for all but a full halt of their advance.

Each door was carefully checked instead of being barged through for the attacker to risk becoming a casualty. Every corner was peered around instead of being rushed, so that by the time they encountered any humans, they were exhausted and worn down by the stress of fearing each footstep would invite further injury until they reached a massive, open chamber that seemed abandoned.

Jostling came from behind those at the front who were understandably more cautious than their comrades safely in the rear, until a single gunshot blew the face of one brave soldier apart. The call to advance, to rush the impudent enemy, sounded loud and clear and forced them to run into the large chamber roaring their challenges.

“Now?” a woman asked Zhao in a whisper without taking her eye from the scope of her rifle.

“Not yet,” he murmured, hoping for just a few more seconds to trap even more of them into the corridors of the complex, which made them stoop to avoid hitting their ugly heads on light fittings and door frames. “A few more seconds… Okay, now!”

The woman holding the rifle squeezed her right index finger around the trigger to spark a full advance into the hall.

“Wait for it,” Zhao said to a man beside him. “Wait for it… now!” The man twisted a lever on a battery box, which sent an electrical signal along a wire leading over the high ceiling. That wire was connected to a bomb seated securely in the ceiling above the far doorway, and when it blew, it dropped a few tons of rubble to block their escape and to prevent any other reinforcements from entering.

Leaving by far the least palatable but the most destructive task for his own hands, Zhao pulled a lever on the wall, which activated an isolated circuit of the complex’s sprinkler system. That isolated system dumped gallons of liquid into the hall, and that liquid was a mixture of rubbing alcohol, turpentine, paint thinner, and anything else recovered from the old world that burned.

He stepped from the crack of the door he peered through as it came under sporadic fire from the advancing invaders who were only just beginning to realize the rain inside wasn’t water. Before it was closed fully, he did something he’d always wanted to do since he was a kid. Since he’d watched movies from the seventies and eighties, when anyone setting light to something did so in such masculine fashion that he even saw what he was doing in special effects slow-motion.

The metal gas lighter he carried in his pocket despite never having smoked was raised, opened with a springy snick sound, and the wheel rolled over the flint to make fire. He tossed the lighter through the crack and the door slammed closed as the heavy whoomph from behind it threatened to bulge the door back open and allow the consuming fireball inside to reach its scorching tentacles out to them.

It held, but the shrill cries of agony and fear from the aliens trapped inside were haunting enough.

“Spread out to your fallback positions,” Zhao ordered, hearing his instructions relayed over at least two radios. “Fight to your last bullet, then use your gun as a damned club.” This was it for him, but he considered it one hell of a way to go.

Chapter 22

Dex

The aftermath of the battle was far different from the altercation. Dex stumbled from the hull of the ship, his hands trembling as the ground shook beneath them. Hansen smelled like sour sweat, and it appeared like the man was crying, but it was only the usual leak from his scarred eye.

“What the hell just happened?” Hansen croaked, speaking for the first time in at least ten minutes.

Dex shrugged, trying to keep his enthusiasm inside. “I’d say these Vermin know a thing or two about a fortified defense.”

Hansen’s expression was wild. “Jesus. We had this kind of artillery to defend ourselves with?”

“We?” Dex asked, fed up with the Occupation’s human leader. He peered around, not seeing any of the Overseers here. They’d evacuated the ships over an hour ago, leaving the two humans to fend for themselves. Lucky for Dex, the vessel was far enough away from the target zone that Zhao hadn’t blown them up.

“You know what I mean. Maybe I…”

Dex glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one was around. He walked over to the evil man, standing directly in front of him. The smell of booze on his breath lingered. “God, I hate you, Hansen.”

“What?” the man stared at him, his bad eye drifting to the side.

“I said I hate you… I hate everything about you. I hate that you killed Travis Mason all those years ago. I hate that you stood against humanity beside these freaks for this long.” Dex shoved him in the chest, knocking the man to the ground. He’d seen that Hansen was unarmed. He’d been drunk when they forced the two humans to join them, and clearly, the usually armed man had been caught off guard.

Dex, on the other hand, had his Glock ready, and he pulled it out now, pointing it at Hansen. Dex had done a lot of shit in his life. He’d hunted humans, lots of them, but he tried to tell himself the ones he’d murdered, like the pair guarding the University of Nebraska, had been for good reasons. That they’d deserved it. At the end of the day, if he died, and there was a heaven and hell, Dex had no misconceptions of which direction he was heading.

If there was a stairway to heaven, he was taking the express elevator straight to hell.

“What are you doing, Hunter?” Hansen tried to stand up, but Dex kicked his left leg out, sending him to the ground.

“I’m doing what someone should have done years ago.” His finger touched the trigger, and he caught movement from the ship behind him.

An alien sauntered forward, his eyes dark and menacing. He clicked a few times and glanced idly between the two humans. Dex could smell him, even over the acrid scent of detonated munitions permeating the air.

“He says to stand down.” Hansen’s eyes were wide.

“Is that so?” Dex asked, not wavering. He stared at the alien, recognizing that this was their commander. He’d been in charge, chirping shrill orders on the trip over, and it appeared he was the last one standing. At least over here, away from the fight. “Maybe you should tell him he’s a coward for sending all his people to their deaths while he took a nap inside.”

Hansen cleared his throat. “Lambert, lower the goddamn gun or you’ll get us both killed.”

The alien walked toward the colonel and Dex dropped his arm, stepping back a few yards to keep his distance.

Hansen muttered something in the alien tongue, and the commander plucked him from the ground, helping him roughly to his feet. “See, Hunter. I am still their number one. Without me, they would…” The sound was sickening. The alien’s massive fist crumpled the unscarred side of Hansen’s face, and the mutilated body dropped to the dirt with a thud.

A few scattered machine guns rattled off in the distance, and his ears rang as if he suddenly had a serious case of tinnitus.

The alien commander turned slowly, facing Dex, and it bellowed the most horrifying sound the hunter had ever heard in his life. The hair on his neck rose, and he nearly wet himself. The thick tendons of the Overseer’s neck flexed, his mouth opening wide, revealing long, sharp teeth.

Dex did the only thing he could. He fired at its chest. Once. Twice. Three times. And ran.

It screeched again. This time, the pitch was higher, more desperate, but Dex didn’t risk turning around to see if it lived.

His legs pumped hard as he headed toward the rubble of the west coast facility, and soon heard the footsteps following him. The sun had started to descend, and when he looked over his shoulder, the rays were bright, rendering him temporarily blind. The alien soared on powerful legs, sending Dex to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs in a whoosh.

The gun dropped from his grip at the impact and landed just out of reach. The alien crouched over him, blood pumping from its wounds, and Dex didn’t think the creature had much time left. Probably long enough to kill him first, though.

It had all been worth it. Turning to side with the Reclaimers was the one good decision of his life. He only wished he’d been given a choice earlier on. Maybe he could have made a real difference.

The alien reached down, grabbing Dex by the throat. He was toying with him, trying to exact revenge for the loss of the day, for Dex shooting him. The grip tightened, and he coughed, stars flickering in his vision. Dex punched the alien, the side of the beast’s torso feeling like a brick wall.

He hit it again, somehow finding the strength to retaliate. He couldn’t give up, not now. Not when they were so close to the end. Dex was selfish, and he had to find out what happened. Dying before he saw if the Earth was reclaimed or not would be his biggest regret. Dex slackened, pretending to be expired, and the alien’s grip loosened slightly. An opportunity arose.

He slipped a hand up, pressing his fingers into one of the bullet wounds on the Overseer’s chest. His fingernail scraped on something hard, either bone or the bullet he’d fired. Its arms flew into the air, and Dex made his move. With his left foot, he kicked off the ground, moving enough to reach his gun.

The alien’s fist swung at him, but Dex was faster. The Glock rang out, the bullet entering the thing’s oversized skull from less than a yard away. It stood there, and he feared another attack for a moment, before it fell forward directly on top of him.

With all the strength remaining in his exhausted body, Dex rolled from under the dead commander and lay there for a second, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. It was over. The battle for the west coast had been won, even if it had all been destroyed in the process. The Reclaimers had stolen the misters and destroyed a mine.

If the Freeborn girl and Monet could really complete their side of the mission, and if Cole and the captain were able to do the impossible, Dex actually thought there might be a chance. The whole time, it had felt like they were trying to climb a ninety-degree cliff, but now, it almost seemed like they were cresting the summit.

Dex shook, his legs weak and his head throbbing. There might be more of the Overseers nearby, and he searched the area. The ship had been parked on the far side of a crop field. Wheat had been recently harvested, and the short spikey dried stalks were all that remained in the soil as he crossed the expanse of land toward the rubble where the facility had once sat.

The ground was cut up, holes and trenches dug out from the massive turrets placed on the four old-looking towers. The Overseers hadn’t seen any of it coming, and Dex had to give this Zhao guy credit. He’d thought much like the aliens. It was supposed to be a bloodbath, but for the other side.

Dozens of the aliens were on the ground, and Dex picked up one of their strange guns, hefting it in his right hand. He’d seen others powering them up on the flight over, and he tapped the side, bringing the energy charge humming to life. The cartridge blinked green, and he shoved his Glock into the holster under his jacket.

The smell was atrocious: a mixture of alien sweat and their bitter blood. He tried to avert his gaze from the wanton destruction, but it was difficult to avoid their dead eyes and dismembered body parts as he moved into the crop, trying to find any Reclaimers to aid.

There was a chain link fence along the outer edge of the field, and he moved to the mangled metal mess, stepping over the overturned barrier. More bodies lay nearby, and he stopped, scanning the corpses for movement. It would be terrible to have survived this long, only to be shot in the back by an injured alien.

When he was greeted by nothing but silence and the light rustling of leaves along the last upright oak trees in the encampment, Dex continued.

The towers were rubble, crumpled piles of stone and wood. Where are you, Zhao? Dex took the chance to move to the shadows, past the steady stream of torn apart Overseers, and found a collapsed building over what had to be a trap set by Zhao. Dex guessed there were tunnels below, and he glanced over to the west, the sun nearly beyond the horizon now.

He heard footsteps and lifted the gun, the weight heavy in his tired arms.

“Put it down,” a voice said calmly. He couldn’t see the man but felt a set of eyes or two on him. Dex did as he was ordered, setting the weapon to the dirt.

“I’m with you.”

“Is that so? Why did you just come from their ship?” The man stepped out. He was covered in dust, his arm bleeding, his shirt sleeve torn. He was bald, sweat beads drew lines in the grime over his forehead.

“If you saw that, you saw me blow a hole in one of their faces.” Dex didn’t want to spend any more time here than absolutely necessary. “Where’s Zhao?”

The man’s eyes flickered with something… and Dex knew. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

The man nodded. “Gave his life for this place.”

“I can’t believe you did it. What’s your name?” Dex asked.

“Scott. There’s not many of us left… leather jacket, dark hair… you must be this Dexter guy the Masons told me about,” Scott said. He lowered the weapon, and moved with grace and efficiency. He was older, probably military or law enforcement from the old days, when those things existed.

“That’s me.” Dex sighed. “Where are the others?”

Scott whistled, and people began to emerge from the disaster that had once been a safe haven for thousands of people. Dex tried to imagine what the place might have looked like before, with tree cover, actual gardens, and food sources, water at their disposal. It felt like it could have been a real home, but now it was nothing but a graveyard for their enemy, and hundreds of Reclaimers willing to offer their lives for the cause.

Soon there were about ten of them, each looking as bad off as the next.

“Stay close, Dex. Some of the Overseers are hiding out.” Scott began walking around the fallen tower, heading north.

“Where are we going?” he asked, grabbing the alien weapon from the ground.

“To our new home.”

Dex was free of the Occupation for the first time in his life, but he still felt the shackles on his wrists. He rubbed his sore neck and walked behind Scott, entering the forest toward a new future.

Chapter 23

Cole

Living in a cave lost its glamour on the second day. Both Cole and Soares were showing signs of physical discomfort, but they seemed to make it a matter of pride not to complain about it in front of the other.

They knew from the data recorded by the tracking dart that the journey from the mine to the Gateway took two days, which surprised Cole. He’d asked about the slow progress and Soares reminded him that they witnessed the loading of what they guessed was over two thousand tons of raw material.

“That kind of weight’s gonna affect your mileage,” he muttered, shaking his head in dismissal when the young man opened his mouth to ask what he meant. “Never mind. We’re assuming it went through the Gate; either that or the tracking system decided to shut down close to the facility in Detroit.”

They spent that fourth day watching again, and Cole’s pain at having to lean up to use the binoculars made him regret his choice of weapon.  The scope on the rifle Soares had given him would have made the job of observing far less taxing on his neck and shoulders.

“They seem a little on edge to you?” Soares asked in a low voice.

“You surprised?” Cole whispered back. They had both crowded to see the tablet over the last few nights, reading the reports of the battle in Spain. From all accounts and messages, their enemy had their noses well and truly bloodied by his brother and their allies.

None of this would have been possible if not for Tom’s sacrifice.

He’d asked if he could send a message to Lina, but Soares had apologized and explained that he didn’t even know if they were able to receive any signals where they were. Being somewhere thousands of miles out to sea—under the sea—was a terrifying concept to Cole, who had only viewed the ocean a handful of times in his life. That his need to make contact with her might put her life in danger cut him with a cold stab.

He had to hope that she was well, that she was safe, and those thoughts occupied a few hours of the uncomfortable day spent watching the nervous sentries at the mine. It appeared the enemy had suddenly grown nervous since his brother’s attack in Spain.

Cole wished he could strike. He wished he could kill them and fantasized about how he would do it.

“No way,” he said when Cole raised the suggestion of taking out the aliens while they had the opportunity. “It’s vital that we get on that transport totally undetected. If we know it’s going through the Gateway, we can just set the bomb on it. If we waste it all on killing a few low-ranking aliens here…” He trailed off, shaking his head in disappointment, but Cole wasn’t upset by his words. Instead, he frowned in thought.

“How do we set off the bomb?” he asked. “No remote detonator will work if the bombs on a different planet, and I’m pretty sure we didn’t bring enough wire…”

“Timer,” Soares told him, patting a fat cylinder in its drab green carrying case taken from the secure storage at the safe house. “Remember the bomb on the train? That had a failsafe—a timer set to detonate the charge—in case the direct activation failed.”

“I don’t understand that either,” Cole complained. “Why pack a train with all those chemicals if we had stuff like that thing?” He pointed at the device Soares fussed over like it was either very precious to him or highly dangerous and he was scared of it. Cole suspected it was the latter.

“We don’t have stuff like this, we have one of these. One. You know how hard it was to even find this, let alone store it safely without wiping us all out by irradiating everyone?” Cole stared at him, wearing a blank expression as he usually did when Soares forgot the younger man grew up in an entirely different world than his own.

“If the damn Roamers had bothered to reach out or answer us, we might’ve had a better chance to make the first plan work,” Soares grumbled.

“Or,” Cole answered carefully, “we’d have lost that along with a lot more people than we already have.”

“Huh,” Soares huffed. It wasn’t a question or an acknowledgment of Cole’s logical response, merely a noise to signify his frustration with everything.

“What I don’t get,” Cole said, changing the subject in the hope of bringing the older man to a conversational level, “is how nuclear stuff can be a bomb and a power source, like the submarine…”

“Me neither, kid,” Soares said tiredly. “Then again, I don’t know how to make a rifle, but I know how to use it.”

Lina

The problem with the forward ballast tanks took over a day to repair, and Gerard tried to excitedly explain what the actual issue was and how his crew had worked on their ingenious idea to fix it.

Gerard recognized that getting them back underway as fast as possible to keep within the mission timeline was imperative, and told them so.

“Until the next thing on this deathtrap goes wrong,” Monet added, meaning it as a joke just letting it come out sounding a little too sour and offending the old sailor.

“Is there time to watch the sunset?” Lina asked, guessing what the answer would be but using the interruption to change the subject rapidly.

“I’m afraid not,” Gerard told her. “Listen,” he said when he saw her disappointment. “We pull this crazy shit off and I’ll personally sail you out here so you can sit on deck for a week.”

“Deal,” Lina said with a smile, thrusting out her hand to shake on it and making Gerard smile with how easily he’d been trapped by his own words.

* * *

At breakfast a few days later, Gerard invited both of them to join him in the control room where maps were scattered on a table under harshly bright lights. They were four days out from Shanghai, and Gerard didn’t want to tempt fate, but he was secretly impressed that they’d suffered only a single major malfunction, even if it had threatened to be catastrophic.

“So, four days,” Gerard said. “What happens after that?”

Lina and Monet exchanged confused glances.

“You don’t know?” Lina asked him, earning the response of a shrug and a shake of his head.

“Nope. I was following orders up until this point.”

“We’re going to break into the factory where the aliens mix up the chemicals to make their mister things, and drop a bucket of poison in it,” Monet said flatly.

“How many are going?” Gerard asked, getting to the particulars.

“Us two,” Monet answered. “Any more will make us too obvious and easy to locate. Do you think you can get us to shore quietly?”

“Miss Monet,” Gerard said, putting on an accent that oozed charm and manners, “moving quietly is what a submarine was made for.”

Chapter 24

Alec

“Have you been able to reach them?” Alec asked Izzy as he entered the communications room.

She shook her head, resting her forehead on a palm. She looked tired, but Alec wasn’t about to tell her that. They all needed some sleep, but there was too much to prepare for. They’d spent the last week fortifying the base in Northern Norway, and the sheer volume of people here astounded Alec.

“The lines are dead. We’ve lost contact with everyone at this point.” Izzy held a tablet up and showed Alec there was no possible way to send any messages through their operating system.

“They found out how we were doing it. Probably from Spain. We also know they were attacking the west coast group… I need to hear how they’re doing,” Alec said, plopping into a squeaky old desk chair beside Izzy. The hydraulics were shot, and it sat a good half foot lower than hers.

“My dad had more defenses there than he’d let on. He’ll have blasted their alien asses back to Detroit.” She said it with confidence, but Alec noted the gulp in her throat and the shake of her hand.

“I’m sure he did. I just hate sitting around, wondering where everyone is. Monet should be close to China, and Cole and Captain Soares have to be in the container now.”

If they’re alive. He kept that thought to himself. He felt that if he said it out loud, it would gain power.

The room hummed with the clunky old computers running from their solar panels, and Izzy closed a few programs before kicking away from the desk, rolling in her chair toward the exit. The space had no windows, and Alec hated being underground. He wanted to be outside, without fear of an attack from the damned Overseers. He was so tired of it all and was happy that, one way or another, the end was coming.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she offered and he hopped to his feet, jogging for the door.

“Gladly.” The corridors were long, and people hung about, members of the Barony mixing with the few Reclaimers, and the French resistance, who claimed to have no name to go by; no powerful moniker of denial or rebellion. Alec appreciated that. Their only focus had been surviving all these years, and judging by the three thousand bodies the ships had transported to Norway over the last few days, they’d done it well.

The lights flickered off, and the emergency ones kicked on.

“Power’s down,” Daniel, Jack’s right hand man, said as he stepped out of an office. Jack followed and nodded at Alec.

“Gotta go outside and see what’s caused it. You two want to join me?” Jack asked.

“Sure.” Izzy smiled at Alec, like this was some great adventure for them. Really, Alec wanted to have something to distract him from all the unknowns culminating around their group.

“How long ago did you start this place?” Alec asked the older man as he led them through the corridors toward the steps to the exit.

“Ten or so years ago. We kept close surveillance on Norway. The buggers didn’t seem to give a crap about the snow-covered landscape here, and it seemed like the logical plot to set roots, don’t you agree?” Jack scratched at his beard, smoothing it out, and winked at Alec as he opened a large metal locker unit imbedded into the wall before the stairs.

He pulled out three sizeable parkas, each dark blue with faux fur-lined hoods. Izzy smiled as she slid into hers, and Alec found the jacket heavier than he’d expected. He hadn’t been outside much, the others not letting him risk his life transporting people from France to Norway.

Jack pressed tinted goggles into each of their palms and told them to put them on. The metal stairs rang loudly as their hefty boots clanged over them, and after about forty steps, they found the exit. Jack opened the hatch, sending it to the side, and they climbed a few rungs to get outside their hidden facility.

Alec had no idea what time of day it was and was surprised to find the sun high in the sky, the intense glow reflecting brightly off the snow. He followed Jack’s lead and stuck the goggles on, then lifted the hood over his head, which was already feeling the cold. The wind had an intense bite to it, and his forehead stung from the chill.

Alec scanned the horizon, seeing the white buildings jutting from the ground. Their fleet was stored inside, along with the drone army. That was where they were headed now, walking slowly through the path carved into the white expanse.

Beside the walkway, the snow stood up to his waist, and he peered behind him, seeing Izzy enjoying every moment of it. “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” she said.

“Neither have I.” Alec had seen snow, a lot even during the bad winters in Detroit, but this? This was next level.

Mountains loomed in the distance, entirely white-capped, and he stopped, Izzy bumping into him. He stared at the view, his eye lashes sticking as he blinked. “This is incredible.”

She took his mitten-covered hand and squeezed it, pulling him in for a kiss. “We’re going to do it, Alec. We accomplished our goal in Spain, and now we can let the others do their parts. We’re going to stop this Occupation. Can you believe it?”

He nodded, but deep down, he wasn’t as optimistic. Not really. There were too many moving pieces, and he felt stuck in Norway, with nowhere to go.

“What are we going to do?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“After.”

After.

The word hadn’t crossed his mind much lately. He’d never assumed there would be an after, and while they’d been planning the uprising, he’d been too busy to give anything beyond that much thought. Standing here, staring at Izzy, he thought maybe there was a life for him outside of the Occupation, and it was almost as scary and daunting to consider.

“You two lovebirds coming?” Jack called from some distance away. His voice carried on the wind, and Alec kissed Izzy again, their lips nearly sticking together. She was so beautiful, her dark hair peeking from behind the hood over her head.

“We’re going to live, Izzy. We’re going to start over, and be part of something wonderful.” Alec let her take the lead, and he noticed a slight hop in her step as they caught up to the Barony leader. The structure was immense, covered in solar panels. They’d modified them to hide better in snow, and Jack claimed it would be difficult to spot them from above, unless the aliens were right on their asses.

Jack pulled on the door, and it creaked open. “It wasn’t shut. Supposed to be locked.” He frowned behind the goggles, and Alec watched as the British leader pulled a 9MM from under his jacket.

“Is something wrong?” Izzy asked.

“Let’s hope not. Can’t be too careful.” Jack stepped inside, his weapon raised, and the other two stomped in after him, kicking snow from their boots. He turned to them and set a gloved finger on his lips. “Can you cut the racket?”

“Sorry.” Alec peered around the massive warehouse facility. The walls were thin, lightweight tarp meant for cold climates, and they rustled as the wind blew against them. The entire place was constructed with a large wooden frame, the tarps cinched around each post. It was surprisingly warm inside, and that told Alec they’d done a great job sealing it.

To their left were the three Overseer ships. Alec was still upset they’d lost the one in Spain, but Whittaker had taken to the Barony’s modifications to the pilot’s seat, and he’d managed to do a lot of the runs back and forth from France to here.

There were rows and rows of the drones, at least a hundred Seekers, and nearly as many Trackers, each resting, and mostly charged. Jack hadn’t wanted to put too much of their solar energy into the robots, not when they charged from the sun themselves, so they had sent them into the wilderness twenty at a time over the last few days then powered them off, storing them here.

“Where’s the control room?” Izzy asked quietly.

Jack waved them deeper inside, and they listened for sounds of anything or anyone moving around. Two minutes later, Jack relaxed. “Prob just Daniel forgetting to shut it last time. No biggie.”

They walked past the rows of robots, and Alec tried not to think about the firepower they had between them. The communication network had failed, but Jack’s localized system for his metal army was unlike anything the Reclaimers had seen. He claimed it was failsafe, and that the Overseers had no possible way to hack his system. Alec wasn’t as confident as Jack on the subject.

The door was at the far end of the open room, and Jack punched a code on the lock. There were a few tall black towers inside, and they blinked and beeped softly in the dim room. “There’s the problem.” Jack pointed to the lead tower. “Someone unplugged the panel relay.” He flipped the loose wire. “Or cut it.” He showed the frayed wires to Alec.

“Who?” Izzy asked, peering over Alec’s shoulder.

Jack shook his head. “Your guess is as good as mine, but this needs to be fixed now.” He pulled a two-way radio from his pocket, pressing the button on the side. “Daniel, come in.”

“Go for Daniel.” He sounded nervous.

“Bring Laurie with you and head over here. We have some damaged wiring that needs patched up,” Jack told him.

“Straight away. Do we need security?” Daniel asked, his voice breaking and cracking over the radio speaker.

“Wouldn’t hurt.” Jack shoved his radio into his pocket and walked past Alec. “What happened here?”

Alec peered around, trying to get a sense of someone’s motivation and movements. “Is there another exit?”

“Sure. Out back. We didn’t want a single way in and out… in case of a fire…”

“Or a surprise attack,” Izzy said.

“That too. It’s over here.” Jack walked through the room, his boots too loud to Alec’s ears. He almost expected an alien to pop out of the walls, but nothing met them as they found the other exit. It was closed; an eight-foot metal framed doorway.

Alec depressed the lever, and the wind hit him, blistering over his face as it grew in intensity. He stepped out, and even with the current drifts, the evidence was clear. Someone had left on foot. Their tracks were half-covered, but they were there.

“Damn it. Who in the bloody hell did this?” Jack asked, his accent even thicker.

Izzy grabbed Alec, pulling him back in. “Does it matter?”

“Of course…”

“You know what this means, right?” Izzy stood still, her words dying in the wind.

“They’re coming…” Alec looked to the sky, seeing clouds blowing in from the north where the ocean lay churning a few kilometers past the nearest ridge.

“That’s right. They’ll be coming. But we’ll be ready for them.” Jack smiled, and somehow it did little to ease the stress in Alec’s spine.

Fan

The Reclaimers were coming tomorrow. At least Fan hoped they were. He didn’t know much about submarines, but he imagined the worst when he thought of a rusty old metal tube traveling below the surface for two weeks.

If this was going to work, they needed to disrupt the vats of chemicals today, and Fan had never been so afraid in his life. It was obvious the Reclaimers had done what they’d promised by destroying the massive batch being sent to Spain then Africa as well as the USA. The aliens around the facility were livid about a week earlier, demanding the human crews work double shifts, ensuring more product was ready in a couple weeks.

Fan hated seeing so many of them around, but today, they’d exact their revenge. He sat at his station, fiddling with the caps, his hands twitching and trembling in anticipation. Biyu wouldn’t let him down, and somehow she’d managed to get Chan, the guard, on her side. He didn’t ask how, but with the anger of the aliens in the last week, the rest of the human workers were beginning to see the light.

They knew what these devices did for the aliens, and he was glad to see their oppressors walking around for the past week in a state of panic. They were aggressive where they’d never been more than passive and uncaring about the humans around them. A few new ones had arrived, bigger, angrier than the previous leaders, and Fan was fully aware of what they’d do to him if he was caught.

Fan stared at the window their supervisor Li stood behind, and the older man gave him a slight smile. A few of the workers had been filled in, because Fan needed their help. Biyu had worried Li would betray them, but the man had been only too eager to help. His words still echoed inside Fan’s mind as he waited for the signal from Li. Thank you, Fan. I’ve wanted to upset them for years, but couldn’t find the courage. You’ve found it for me.

Two aliens walked through the room, eyeing the workers, and as they passed, heading the opposite direction of the vats, Li nodded at Fan. He rose, glancing up at the cameras in the corners of the wall. The lights were no longer blinking, meaning Chan had managed to disconnect them. With a tiny blade they had to pry sealed parts of the misters apart, he cut himself, his hand instantly welling with the blood.

Others watched him walk through the room, clutching the bloody hand to his chest. It stung, but he didn’t care. He pretended he was going to the medical bay, but once he was in the corridors beyond the workspace, he pulled a swath of torn uniform, wrapping it tightly over his left palm. Some blood seeped through, but it would prevent a trail of red from incriminating him.

Biyu was walking down the hall from the other direction, and she stared at a tablet, pushing a cart with supplies on it. He smiled as he saw her, short black hair, youthful face. He couldn’t have done any of this without her.

She didn’t meet his gaze, only stopped, placing the cart near the entrance to the vat. An alarm rang out from inside, one Chan had been able to activate, telling the workers to flee from a gas leak. The noise was localized to the room, and soon, ten workers shuffled from the space, not bothering to glance at Biyu or Fan. They were walking dead. All of the workers were. Gone were their dreams of a different life. Any aspirations beyond food and sleep evaporated after years of labor as slaves to the alien race.

Purpose filled Fan as he walked into the room where the chemicals mixed to form the vapor for the misters, as the Reclaimers had called them. Biyu appeared to be enjoying herself, and she ran quickly to the first massive stainless steel vat. Digital numbers flashed on a screen, and she used an access code they’d deciphered to change the ingredients. Something dumped inside, and the vat began to hiss and steam, before appearing normal.

Fan did the same, and then on to the next until all five containers were corrupted. The alarm had stopped, and the other workers would be ordered to return at any moment. The door opened, and a drone floated inside. Fan and Biyu hugged the wall on opposite sides of the exit as the fist-sized robot entered, beeping and buzzing.

It had no weapons, but it was recording what it saw. These drones were there to confirm air quality, and to move into small spaces for alien surveillance, at least that was what Chan had told Biyu. It proceeded to scan, and they raced through the door, the compact robot none the wiser.

Biyu continued on, moving with confidence as she pushed the cart away. Fan jogged through the hall and knocked on the doctor’s door, being greeted by an old woman in a white lab coat. The alarm was quiet there, and it stopped as the drone found nothing dangerous in the room. He peered to the camera in the hall, seeing it was on once again. Li thought the aliens would just guess there had been a power fluctuation causing the disturbances, but Fan wasn’t so sure.

At least they’d disturbed the current chemicals, and now all they had to do was wait for the others to arrive in a submarine. Fan was stitched up and sent back to work. He was so happy to act, he hardly noticed the pain.

Chapter 25

Cole

Soares was worried, that much was obvious. The shipment was late. The two of them had spent long hours in one another’s company since they’d met, and the man’s non-verbal cues were as clear as day.

He wanted to ask what was wrong, if there’d been a message about the others, if his brother was okay, or if Lina had checked in. He thought about the lack of an alien ship in the valley below their position instead.

They’d prepared thoroughly, spending much of the previous night with Soares drilling the details of the plan into Cole’s head repeatedly until he recalled them better than his own name.

Cole realized there was much to learn about Soares. He knew the captain in the way that his mannerisms and movements were so familiar to him, but not a great deal about the actual man.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not coming,” he whispered to Soares.

“No,” he responded flatly, “so we stay ready.”

They did. They watched and waited and watched some more, but nothing about the activity surrounding the mine indicated anything other than business as usual.

The nervous guards were heavily armed and acting a little jumpy, and Cole let his mind wander again to compare them to the kind of people he’d seen at the places he’d lived for the last months.

These were low-level guards. If they were the biggest, the best, the strongest, they wouldn’t be out here in the middle of nowhere watching some mining drones chip minerals out of the ground. They’d be guarding the gateways. They’d be on ships hunting down humans in death squads. They’d be in charge of security at the facilities that still housed people.

These contemplations helped to wind the clock and keep him alert during the wet day spent staring at the small area, but the added stress of having to be prepared to move at a moment’s notice was draining him.

“What if the ship comes when it’s dark?” he asked, voicing his concern.

“Then we board it in the dark,” Soares told him like it was no big thing.

They didn’t exchange any other words for a few hours as both lay still. Cole checked the observation report from their Tracker drone every hour, but even the robot dog reported a boring lack of change.

When the sun sank behind their position, Soares sighed and quietly gathered his gear, leaving the heavy backpack bomb until last. They trudged to the cave, separating to take care of their personal maintenance and enjoy a different kind of quiet solitude, reconvened by the fire that Soares was reviving.

“You think something’s wrong?” Cole asked him. “Did they stop the shipments because of what’s happening everywhere else?”

“Why would they?” Soares asked. “It’s their priority. It’s what the birdbrains are here for.”

“But, the shipment…”

“Didn’t happen today. There’s nothing to say it won't, though. Stick to the plan, kid.”

Cole went quiet, eating a foil-wrapped meal without bothering to heat it up. It was fuel, nothing more. It wasn’t like the Tracker drone enjoyed soaking up the sunlight to recharge.

As if reading his thoughts, Soares picked up the tablet beside him and tapped at the screen to send the reprogrammed drone out to the mouth of the cave to keep watch as they grabbed whatever sleep they could.

* * *

Cole’s eyes went wide and his chest heaved. It took him a second to recall where he was, fighting against the constriction of the sleeping bag as he struggled free his arms and spill out into the cold, pre-dawn air of the cave.

His senses all activated at once, overloading his brain with information he had to sort and file rapidly.

Damp embers from the fire were extinguished by water being poured over it.

The wind howled loudly outside.

The low temperature coupled with the darkness told him it was technically still night.

He struggled to his feet, leaving the abandoned sleeping bag and bed roll, picked up the shotgun, and slung his pack over one shoulder. Soares was on one knee tapping furiously at his tablet, and before Cole could figure out what he was doing, the Tracker reappeared and fixed its eyeless gaze on him, returning to guard mode just as Soares gave it a verbal command.

“Hold your fire unless absolutely necessary,” he instructed, fixing Cole’s eyes with his own to make sure the message was loud and clear. Cole nodded to him once, realizing that the howling wind wasn’t in fact the weather whipping up a storm outside, but was the screaming engines of a transport ship in the valley below.

The vessel was finally there, either late or early, depending on how you looked at it, and they had to get onboard.

They were assuming the shipment was for roughly the same amount of raw materials as before, and that meant they had a little under an hour before the loading was complete. An hour-long window was not as comfortable a margin as might be thought, given that they had to climb halfway down a massive hill while avoiding the roving patrols of Seeker drones. Not to mention avoiding the attention of the aliens, sneaking onto the ship, and doing all of this in predawn darkness.

They moved, leaving most of their gear in the cave, and not for the first time, Cole resigned himself to the risk that they simply weren’t going to make it back.

The pair ran, as fast and as carefully as they could, aiming for the middle section of the ship where the open rear ramp would be packed with mining drones dragging massive, heavy sacks and loading them.

Three times they had to freeze, dropping low to the ground slowly. Eventually, they reached the level where the colossal hauler rested on multiple heavy landing struts. Cole and Soares crouched in cover entirely deafened by the scream of the resting engines now that they were up close.

Soares grabbed Cole’s shoulder, half turning his body and pointing to their right where the line of the angular hull broke to show a door that folded out to act as a ramp.

Cole nodded, heart racing and blood pumping so hard, it made a fast, rhythmic banging noise deep inside both ears. He tensed his body in preparation of sprinting for the door when the grip on his arm tightened. He spun, making out Soares’ face with a finger pressed against his lips, and turned to see the unnatural gait of a long-legged alien stalking past as it patrolled the outside of the loading ship.

Cole suppressed the shudder rising up his spine as he gaped at the immense alien carrying a heavy rifle. Cole cringed with the certain knowledge of what would happen if it detected them.

As they neared their target, part of him wanted to leave, to abandon the plan.

This wasn’t as simple as being pursued by a couple of drones or an exchange of bullets with a few humans on the wrong side of the fight. This was sneaking onto an alien spacecraft, a god damned alien spacecraft, and most likely never coming home again.

He didn’t know what hurt more about that: the very real concept of his own mortality or the selfish feelings of what he’d lose if he didn’t come back. He’d had nothing for most of his life, not since Tom left him alone to wander the country in search of somewhere to hide, but now he had things. Important things.

He had a brother. He’d had an uncle for a while. He had Soares, whatever the man meant to him because he hadn’t quite figured it out himself yet, and he had Lina. Hell, they had a dog together.

With no more time to reflect on what a monumentally stupid decision he was making for his own existence, Soares dragged him upright and propelled him toward the open door. He moved, gun up and barrel searching, and felt the presence of Soares right on his shoulder and the cold metal of the Tracker bumping his right calf muscle intermittently as he dashed over the uneven ground.

They rushed up the ramp, shoved onwards by Soares behind him, and stopped as his boots clanged on the hard, metal deck of the ship’s interior. He couldn’t see the end of his gun in the intense darkness of the unlit space.

Soares kept nudging Cole along, but the backpack nuke was heavy, and Cole went with great caution, not wanting to disrupt the device. He dropped to a knee and whispered into the darkness.

“Go in front of us. Switch to night-vision mode.”

It took Cole a second to realize he wasn’t talking to him, and in that second, the Tracker squeezed past them at the same time Soares was pulling the tablet free from inside his vest. The dull light of the screen illuminated Soares’ concerned face, distracting Cole from their surroundings as he stared at the man’s features for any early warning of whatever lurked in the gloom ready to rip them apart.

“There,” Soares whispered. He walked forward, reaching out with his left hand to grip a handle and draw the door aside.

The drone entered, text appearing on the screen to tell them the chamber was empty. Soares lowered the tablet and went through the entrance, reaching behind him to pull Cole inside and shut the door behind them. He set the bulky pack to the deck, treating it with the care it deserved, given the destructive capabilities contained within the unassuming package. Soares took a seat, facing the door.

“Can we lock it?” Cole whispered. Soares had no answer, nor did he have the chance to give one before the Tracker turned and issued a sound like moving gears. The lower section of its head hinged free like a dog opening its mouth, and a small prong whirred forward to connect to a terminal socket in the wall.

Cole panicked for a second, thinking that the thing had reconnected to the alien network, before he figured that the thing was always listening to them and had anticipated the answer.

The lock audibly clicked into place. Cole leaned over Soares to see the screen, reading along with SW-18’s feed.

[DOOR LOCK SECURE]

[OVERRIDE CONTROLS AVAILABLE TO HUMAN USER]

[CHARGING…]

The Tracker sagged, folding its legs beneath its chassis.

“Can you, I dunno, hack in to the ship systems or anything?” he asked the inert drone, prompting it to power up and stand before the response appeared on the screen.

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

“Can you at least see where we’re going?”

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

“What can you find out from the ship systems?” Soares asked, searching for the right question.

[SHIP DESIGNATION – hyõ9çvXqÇ6Ä$]

The list of symbols meant nothing to them, and the tablet didn’t translate the alien glyphs.

“Destination? Crew roster? ETA?” Soares tried.

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

“Forget it,” Soares said, leaning over in exhaustion. “Keep charging. Warn us if there are any aliens in the cargo sections,” he instructed. Cole looked at the tablet and saw the response of [CHARGING…] appear as the drone tucked itself in again. Cole took the device from Soares’ hands as the older man lapsed into an almost sleep-like state after the terror of sneaking on the ship.

He swiped away the interface with the drone, freaked at seeing the live image of the room they were in from a different perspective, and switched to the map option using two fingers as he scrolled out to show the whole continent. He saw nothing, no other icons denoting their forces, and felt his breath come faster as he scanned out even further to swipe the image of the entire globe around to find nothing.

Panicking for real now, he nudged Soares with a sharp elbow until he jostled to alertness and asked what the problem was.

“I can't find anyone,” Cole breathed, his voice cracking.

“Open the comms,” Soares ordered. He did, sending out a message to Alec, to Lina and Monet, to Zhao… nothing. None of them showed as being able to receive any communications, which could’ve meant any one of ten different things.

“What do we do?” Cole asked in disbelief.

“What can we do?” Soares answered. “Wanna give up? Go home and see if anyone’s still alive? Maybe go live in the woods and hope to die of old age?”

“No,” Cole answered, so distressed that he was close to tears and almost sobbed the word.

“So strap in, kid. Let’s finish these assholes for good.”

Chapter 26

Dex

The others had a few days’ head start after the evacuation of the base in California, but Dex noticed that not much had been done in the last week. At least superficially. The Reclaimers had set a base there years before, but had left when they thought it might have been compromised. From the looks of things, it had to be two decades since anyone had inhabited the area. Everything was in disrepair, the cabin roofs half caved in, the entire camp needed some serious TLC.

“Good choice,” Dex had told Bethany, one of the few survivors from Zhao’s last stand, when they first arrived. She was young and would have been born after the invasion, but she had the kind of eyes that had seen too much.

“Tom used to say that these old camps were the best sites. Ones like this could house five hundred kids on any given summer weekend, and they are already equipped with a mess hall, doctor’s office, and everything else you could need for a temporary establishment,” she’d said.

They’d already told everyone about the base back home, and the west coast facility residents mourned their leader, Gregory Zhao. The Freeborn, and all the ex-workers, along with the Roamers, had gathered around the lake that first night and held a ceremony, honoring his loss and the sacrifice of everyone that had stayed behind to fight the Overseers.

Dex hated this. Sitting there in southern Oregon, waiting for what? He pulled a tablet from his jacket again, but there was no signal. No way to communicate with the Masons. Jesus, he hated being left in the dark.

Dex was growing used to walking, but the trip had taken a lot out of him. Twenty miles a day for five days was a rough pace, but they’d all made it. He’d shared a full cabin with Scott and a few others. Even with the couples dividing bunks and the kids being forced to sleep in the same cots as their parents, there were still countless people taking turns sleeping on the floor. They were lucky it was warm and dry this autumn, because with the holes in the roof, it was going to grow unpleasant really quick.

He stretched, walking from the cabin, leaving fifty or so people inside dozing away the early morning. The sun had begun to peek through the trees to the east, casting long dim shadows over the calm lake. It was peaceful here, serene, and he moved through the camp, almost laughing at the fact that people once sent their children to a place like this. The world had changed so much.

There were over three thousand of them in total, and that number had shocked Dex when he’d first heard it. The cabins were scattered around the lake, with half on the southern edge, half on the north, with the main halls and counselor quarters in the middle of the grounds. People were sleeping in the mess hall, while some were rising with the sun like he had, and he returned a few waves from friendly faces. Not everyone thought of him as an ally, though.

He saw a dog, then realized it was a coyote. It loped along with a teenage Freeborn, happy to be given a piece of meat. This place was strange. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so much vibrant life, and it renewed something inside him.

This was their new existence. If they were finally able to finish their plans and rid the planet of the aliens, they would have to start over. And it wouldn’t be a quick process. It would be groups of people like this, fighting to survive. But looking around, he saw them for what they were. These humans had worked in logistics, in manufacturing, in mechanical engineering, in agriculture. The aliens had inadvertently prepared humanity to rebuild and restart.

Dex chuckled to himself at this.

“What’s so funny?” a Roamer asked.

He hated thinking of them like that, and cringed as he considered how many people like her he’d caught and returned to the Occupation over the years.

“The fact that we might have a shot at this.”

“I’m Marisol.” She smiled, a bright grin that reminded Dex of some primal instincts that had all but lay dormant over the last few months. She was a looker: smooth skin, long dark hair pulled into a braid. She wore a hand-stitched leather vest and a gun on her hip. His kind of woman, although maybe a little young for him.

“Walk with me,” she said, her voice soft but commanding.

“Sure thing.”

She led him toward the lake, and soon they were on what used to be a beach. Thick weeds and grass grew in the sand. She bent down, picked up a flat stone, and showed it to him, giving him another one of those smiles that hit him in the gut. Without a word, she flicked her wrist, sending the rock skipping across the calm surface of the water. “You try.”

Dex didn’t see the point of the activity, but he did as she told him and attempted to duplicate her action. Only his rock hit the water and dove under with a gulp of the lake. “It didn’t work.”

“This is what we’re talking about,” she said.

“Huh?” Dex didn’t follow.

“Something as simple as skipping a stone. You’ve never done it, right?”

He nodded.

“Imagine all the things that humans used to do but haven’t in twenty-five years. How much has been lost from the world? Rebuilding is going to be about so much more than hammers and nails. It's going to be about learning, sharing our pasts, and forming a future together.” She spoke with such passion, the sunlight carrying over the trees, and covering her with its warm morning glow.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said.

“Most haven’t, but I can’t blame anyone. All most of us have done for our whole lives is survive. And kudos to us for accomplishing that goal, but the next step is going to be difficult,” she told him.

Dex’s stomach growled as the smell of food drifted from the mess hall to their position. “We’re not done yet. There’s still a war going on.”

She nodded. “My mother went with Alec Mason. We haven’t been able to reach them, but we know they won in Spain. That’s a good thing. They were heading for Norway. She should be safe.”

Safe. Dex didn’t think he’d feel secure until every one of the hulking enemies were dead or vanquished from Earth. “Sure. I bet she’s fine.” Dex didn’t want to upset her. She was like a butterfly that came to land on his hand, and he didn’t want to scare her away.

“Wanna eat?” she asked, her grin returned.

“I could go for some slop.” He smiled back, grunting as his legs protested the incline toward camp.

“How old are you?” she asked, her tone mocking.

“Listen, I just walked a hundred miles after fighting an alien commander in hand-to-hand combat.” He hoped his brag didn’t sound like one.

“Right. And I took down one of their tanks with my mind.”

“Don’t believe me, then.”

She gave him a questioning look as they neared the mess hall. Already people were gathering, and Dex glanced a few hundred yards from where a team had begun felling trees in order to repair the rooftops. “You aren’t kidding, are you?”

He shrugged. “You’d do the same.”

She lifted her left hand where her stump was covered by a leather pouch, cinched with a finely tied off band. “I might do worse at hand-to-hand. More like hands to hand...”

Dex laughed, Marisol joining him. “I think we’re going to get along.”

She set her hand on his forearm but removed it as someone came running toward them.

“Who’s that?” he asked. The guy was hefty, wearing a black baseball cap, and he was panting by the time he arrived. He stopped and directed his conversation to Marisol. Dex guessed she was one of the leaders here.

“Tyrone, what’s up?” she asked the newcomer.

“I tapped into something. I’ve been trying to reactivate our communication lines, but I think it’s impossible now. The bastards found out we’ve been using it, but I did manage to find another entryway to their system.” He rested his hands on his thighs as he bent over, gasping for air.

“What… tell us,” Dex urged him.

“Norway. They know about Norway somehow, and they’re sending a fleet tomorrow night. I think it’s the last major fleet they have, but it’ll be more firepower than we’ve ever encountered,” Tyrone advised.

“Shit. Is there any way to warn them?” Dex asked.

Tyrone shook his head, beads of sweat dripping down his temples. “No, sir. We’re screwed.”

“Marisol, it looks like you have some sway here at camp, right?” Dex asked the woman.

“With my mom being gone, and Soares with Cole, and Zhao dead, I guess I might. What are you thinking?” she asked, hand on her hip.

“We have that ship still, and a pilot?”

“Becca, yep. Along with an army of drones stashed away,” she said. “Not to mention a few dozen bazookas, claymores, sniper rifles, and AR-15s. Zhao didn’t let us leave without a few presents.”

Dex lit up at this. “And we can control these drones?”

Tyrone lifted a hand. “That’s my area. I worked at the Atlanta antennae.” He swallowed hard. “Don’t judge.”

“I wouldn’t think of it, kid. I was a Hunter,” Dex rubbed his palms together anxiously.

“That makes sense. You’re the Dexter Lambert everyone’s talking about,” Marisol said.

“All good things, I hope.”

“Some of them wanted to string you up.”

“Because of the video?” he asked, forever hating himself for bearing witness to Tom Mason’s death without doing a damned thing about it. No wonder they disliked him.

“That would be why. But they understand he ordered you, and that you’re on our side. Still… these people loved him and everything he stood for.”

“And you?” Dex asked.

“I for one am glad to have you on our side. Tyrone, gather the drones, bring them to the ship. We leave tomorrow.” The guy walked off as soon as she gave him the order, and Dex followed her into the mess hall. Scott was there, along with some faces he didn’t recognize.

“Becca, gather the troops. This is the big one.”

Even with the smell of pancakes in the air, Dex found he was no longer hungry.

Chapter 27

Cole

Almost two days spent in a closet-sized room made the cave they’d camped out in seem like a luxury. There wasn’t enough space for them both to lie flat, so they took uncomfortable turns sleeping while sitting and had to keep standing to stretch out cramped muscles.

As the ship crawled toward Detroit, in spite of his constant attempts, Cole couldn’t make contact with anyone else. Logically, he knew that meant the network had failed, or at least their clandestine connection to it had failed or been severed, but he couldn’t dissuade his mind from thinking maybe this was because there were none of his allies left to communicate with.

They’d brought enough water and rations to last almost a week, but something about the enforced inactivity doubled the stress he felt.

Soares said next to nothing for the first day. The few times Cole had spoken to him had earned only a grunt in response that was more dismissive than anything else. He’d fallen into a dark mood, which prevented Cole from seeking the kind of reassurance he wanted.

Midway through their first day as stowaways, he snapped, forcing Soares to talk to him.

“What the hell’s with you?” he demanded. “You won't even try…”

“Try?” Soares sat up stiffly and winced at the discomfort in his shoulder. “Kid, we’ve tried everything there is. Other people had their roles to play and there was nothing I could do about that, but… but I’ve been trying since long before you were in diapers, so don’t come at me with that bullshit.”

Cole recognized it then. He saw how the man truly had given up, but not in the way he’d assumed.

“You really don’t think we’re coming back, do you?”

Soares scoffed. “One of us is,” he spat.

“Fine, I’ll stay and set off the bomb. Show me how.”

“Don’t be stupid, kid,” he grumbled in an angry murmur. “You think the world needs to see my old ass on the screen telling them to fight? No. I’ve had my time, and after everything, the least I can do is actually achieve something… When we reach Detroit, you’re getting off. Survive however you can, live off the land like you’ve been doing your whole life, and find whoever’s left. I’ll turn off the gates. Let me have that, will ya?”

“Show me how it works,” Cole insisted. “Just humor me, okay?”

With a sigh, Soares shifted position again and pulled open the Velcro flap hiding the controls for the bomb to reveal a surprisingly small number of levers and buttons.

“Arm,” he said, lifting a red catch and flipping a switch before dropping the safety catch again. “Timer.” He pointed to a small readout with a twelve-button pad beneath it. “Override,” he said, showing Cole another safety catch and a simple switch. Cole may have been relatively new to the science, but from what he’d been told, he was sure there was no way to flip that particular switch and outrun the blast that would follow.

“Okay,” Cole said as he sat back, “so we get to Detroit, set a timer, move off, and wait for the boom on the other end. Easy as that.”

“With no guarantee we do anything other than blow up a ship full of rocks,” Soares told him with a shake of his head. “We have no idea how long the journey is on the other side—it may be another two days until this stuff reaches the nexus hub or whatever.”

Cole went quiet, lapsing into a long silence where both of them considered any possible way to do what they needed to do and make it out.

That silence lasted until they reached Detroit.

* * *

“I wish we could see outside,” Cole complained. “You sure it can't show us an external camera feed or anything?”

Soares tapped at the tablet, which was plugged into the Tracker to top off the charge, and watched as the thing unfolded and unplugged itself.

“Can you access an external visual?”

[ACCESSING EXTERNAL SENSOR FEEDS…]

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

“No,” Soares said.

Cole sat back, wishing he could watch the phenomenon of flying through a glowing portal.

Chapter 28

Alec

“I still don’t think this was necessary,” Izzy said, but Alec understood Jack’s paranoia. If the mole left, it was because they’d found a way to communicate the base’s location to the Occupation. Jack didn’t seem to mind, because he always had a backup plan. The man seemed so aloof half of the time, so cocksure the other half, but at the end of the day, Alec was more than happy to give him full control of their leadership.

Everyone had taken to the charismatic Barony leader, and it was clear he and his group were miles ahead of the rest of the world when it came to surviving the Occupation. Alec found it hard to believe there were enclaves of people like this on Earth. They’d lived free, or as free as they could, even under the terrible oppression of the Overseers. Meanwhile, Alec had been forced into captivity his entire life. It didn’t seem fair, but none of that mattered any longer.

“Honey, when they arrive, they aren’t going to send a little party over here this time. We fought and fended them off in Spain, and we can only assume that we hurt them in the US as well. Those cheeky buggers are coming at us with everything they can muster, and we’re going to be ready.” Jack turned, facing their new camp. It was tucked along the base of a mountain. Their people were already moving through the ridge here, heading inland, away from the northern shore.

“How can you be so sure?” Izzy asked.

“Because I’ve spent my entire adult life dreaming of this moment. When I’d stand against their attacks and kill the ugly bastards.” Jack’s arms crossed over his chest as he looked at the sky.

“Their journey isn’t going to be easy,” Izzy told their leader.

“Nothing ever is. We’ll pick them up in a couple days. All they need to do is stay warm; we chose this high elevation for the snow. Once they hit a few miles, the temperatures increase dramatically. There’s still time for you two. Maybe you want to leave with the others.” Jack glanced at each of them, and Alec didn’t like what the man was insinuating.

“We’re not going anywhere. Not until it’s over,” Alec told him, stepping closer.

“I wasn’t implying you didn’t have the balls for a fight, my friend. I see the fire in your eyes. But we’re going to need leaders once this is all done, and you two are going to be important,” Jack said, his swaggering attitude vanishing in an instant. “My Ava and Benji left with the first wave. I could use an extra set of eyes on them.” He stared at Izzy.

“I’m with Alec. We’re staying put. This is our fight too.”

Alec could see she assumed the worst for her father back home, but there was nothing they could do but speculate on what occurred.

“How does this work?” Alec asked. This camp was phony, a fake they were using to draw the attackers in. Fake structures sat erected, tarps billowing in the chilly wind.

“We spent years curating a collection of alien tech. We’d sabotage a hovercar, they’d abandon it, and we’d salvage the parts. Each of them is designed with an energy blaster, something that appears to be powered by a dense core of radium. We’ve managed to focus the cores of ten of these, and have created something the aliens will never expect,” Jack said proudly.

“Why didn’t you bring it to Spain?” Izzy asked him.

Jack waved for them to follow him, and they trudged through the deep snow wearing compact snowshoes. It had taken a while to get used to the larger feet, but Alec was soon glad he wore them. Traversing the land wasn’t an easy task.

He led them to the biggest of the five fake buildings, pulling the tarp aside. Alec gaped at the intricate metal structure inside. The thing looked like a giant cannon, a huge base sitting on the ground, the barrel facing up at a forty-five-degree angle. It was fifty feet high, stretching to the top of the building frame.

“Wow. This is something.” Alec had worked in manufacturing and saw the finesse this had been constructed with. It must have taken a long time…

“Ten years. We spent a decade on this. Kept it near my tower at home, but moved it here after we contacted you. I didn’t want to fight the last battle at the Barony. Too many memories. My son was born there…”

“How did you move it?” Izzy asked.

“With great care. We made it so we could deconstruct it into three main sections, allowing us to transport it here. Took another couple days to piece it back together, but she’s worth the effort, don’t you think?” Jack crossed the space, setting a hand on the cold metal of the gigantic weapon.

Alec was impressed but remained skeptical. “Does it work?”

“You bet your damned paycheck it works,” Jack said. “Come on. There’s more.”

They left the tarped-off building, heading for another a hundred yards to the side. Daniel was there, along with the French woman Alec had met in Spain. She’d been quite the sharpshooter, and he’d had a chance to speak with her a little, her companion able to translate a little.

Sylvie didn’t smile as they approached, but she nodded at them. They were squad mates in this war, and she appeared resolved to make her mark on the enemy. She’d mentioned she’d lost her love a few years prior, and so many of their people recently on the trip down to Spain. Her eyes spoke of a sadness so deep, he was surprised to see her moving around.

“Bonjour, Sylvie. Comment allez-vous?” Jack asked her.

“Aussi bon que possible.” She finally grinned at him and kept at her work. She and Maxime were cleaning weapons, dismantling and reconstructing the guns, before handing them out to the waiting soldiers. There was an assortment of Barony and French soldiers here, all of them in preparation for battle.

“What’s the plan?” Alec asked Jack. There were a half dozen hover cars inside this building, and more than two hundred soldiers, if his quick count did them justice. It was admirable, but Alec imagined a large enemy force was heading their direction.

“We’re going to draw them over to Big Ben with our ships, luring them into this vicinity, where we’ll tear their hulls to shrapnel. They’ll run, their vessels damaged, and they’ll have to drop and land, going to the ground. That’s when we unleash the Tracker army from inside the mountains. We have two batches of fifty or so on either side of this plateau.” Jack pointed out the door and Alec followed his finger’s direction. “Then our troops are going to come from the other side, near our main camp, cornering them against the ridge here. The trees are thick, the snow deep, and it will make for a brutal assault.”

“What about a trap there?” Izzy asked. “A hole in the ground. Maybe one of these massive tarps, a few wooden stakes to prop it up, and some snow cover? Trap them inside.”

Jack nodded. “I like the cut of your jib. Daniel!”

His right-hand man jogged over, a pen and paper in his glove. “Jack?”

“Talk to Izzy here. She has an idea, and I like it. If they have a way of sabotaging Big Ben, I want to ensure we disable as many of the aliens as we can. And this might work. We have some excavation equipment in here. The ground’ll be hard, frozen, but they’ll operate just the same.” Jack turned from them, barking orders to another group of his men, and Alec smiled at Izzy.

“I’d say he’s got this under control,” Alec said, hoping his plan worked half as well as the Barony leader thought it was going to. A few minutes later, the pair of them were outside, learning how to operate the backhoe.

Sylvie

Jack watched from a distance as the Mason boy and Zhao’s daughter worked tirelessly to finish their trap. He appreciated the idea, even if he’d thought of it himself a long time ago and had decided it was unnecessary. Still, it kept the two of them busy instead of worrying about the attack. Jack was concerned too… more than that, petrified. This was the big one. The battle he’d prepared for his whole life but hoped would never occur.

He missed Ava and Benji, but they were nearby, maybe twenty miles away by now, near an old Norwegian village where the survivors were ordered to hide out until this final battle was over. If they won this, and the others did their jobs, the war would end. If they could ensure the gateways were forever dismantled, then they’d have won.

Jack was looking at this like a chess board. He’d played a solid opening, and even a decent middle game, but the end was coming, and sometimes you needed to make the King appear weak before springing the trap. Opponents were often blinded once they saw a chance at victory. Nothing but that last move stuck in their minds, and all other pieces ceased to exist in their periphery.

Jack wasn’t going to let that happen to him, but the aliens… they’d always been too confident, and now, with the thought in their heads that they could end the King, taking out an assortment of rebellious groups in one fell swoop… they were going to make mistakes. And Jack was there to make them pay.

He suspected their fleet would arrive sometime in the middle of the night or next morning, since they’d have to gather from around the world.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he spun to see Daniel. Trusty Danny boy, his sidekick, the best friend a man could ever ask for. “Big Ben is prepped. We won’t activate it until we know they’re coming.”

“Very well.” He waved Daniel to his side as he stepped outside. The air was warmer today, and he breathed deeply.

“This is going to work, right?” Jack’s friend was never much of a bullshitter.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I haven’t the foggiest. It might. Lots of pieces need to fall into place, and we’re only estimating their fleet numbers. They might have sent something new through, something smaller? We have no idea how many reinforcements have come through the gates.”

Jack shook his head slowly. “I don’t think so. I bet they’re spread thin. And I say there are no more than ten of the beasts coming over here. Maybe some other tricks, but these guys have shown no initiative until this point.”

“But the Hunter told Mason there was a new regime change. That could pose a problem.” Daniel, the ever so pragmatic one.

“It’s a problem, all right. For them. They don’t know how resilient or cunning humans can be. Let’s hope they are fresh blood. Thank you.”

“For what?” Daniel stared at him, squinting against the sun’s glare off the pure white snow.

“For standing by me while I did all these crazy things Even Ava thought I’d gone overboard, but here we are.”

“I never felt safe, not one night. You understood we had to fight eventually,” Daniel said.

“I still rather hoped someone else would do it before we had to.” Jack laughed, clapping his buddy on the shoulder. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow.” Daniel walked off, his pen moving over the pad of paper, and Jack returned to work.

Chapter 29

Sw-18

[CHARGE LEVEL: 100%]

[RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS… ALL SYSTEMS FUNCTIONAL]

[DIRECTIVE: PROTECT HUMANS – PRIORITY ORDER – DESIGNATION: COLE - PRIMARY]

[ASSESSING… BOTH HUMANS ENGAGED IN REST CYCLE]

[ATTEMPTING TO INTERFACE WITH SHIP SYSTEMS…]

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

[QUERY: SHIP PERSONNEL]

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

[QUERY: INTERNAL SENSORS]

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

[QUERY: SECURITY PROTOCOL]

[INTERFACE ONLY VIA COCKPIT – ALL OTHER ACCESS DENIED]

[OVERRIDE: FIRE CONTROL SYSTEM]

[STANDBY…]

[INTERNAL SENSORS ACTIVE… NO FIRE]

[OVERRIDE: LOCATE SHIP PERSONNEL – FIRE SAFETY]

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SECURITY PROTOCOL IN PLACE]

[ACCESS DENIED – REMAIN IN PLACE FOR ASSESSMENT BY PRIMARY USER]

SW-18 had charged slowly because the outlet was generating roughly a quarter of the power usually gained from the deployable solar array, and it reviewed the last instructions to evaluate them, considering a work-around to access the system.

It had backfired, and now the assessed threat level of his protection detail being discovered was raised to imminent.

It scanned between the two humans, deciphering breathing rate and pattern to discern which of them was closest to consciousness, then nudged the larger of them with the articulating head of its chassis. It did it again, and on the second attempt, the human regained consciousness to stare at the Tracker.

To aid the understanding of the human, the drone intentionally pointed the entire chassis at the tablet used to interface with it.

[ACCESS TO SHIP SYSTEMS DETECTED – CHANCE OF PHYSICAL SEARCH OF THIS LOCATION 96%]

Cole

“Shit,” Soares cursed, slapping Cole’s boot and holding a finger to his lips.

“They’re coming to search here,” he whispered. “We need to move.” He turned to the drone and gave it orders.

“Unlock the door, go out and hide, but give me eyes on the corridor.”

The Tracker accessed the socket once more, unlocking the door and darting out with a soft clang, clang, clang, clang of metal feet on the deck.

The air outside the door was icy—much colder than before—and the darkness so complete that both men bumped into the walls as they moved. Soares stopped, making Cole thump into his back, pulled out the tablet, and turned it around to bathe the ground ahead in a weak glow. It gave them just enough light to see where they were going. Before they could make it to the end of the corridor, overhead lights behind them began to blink on in the far distance one by one, each bringing the light a step toward them in an unstoppable march.

“Kid,” Soares whispered, “come on.” Cole turned to see him gesturing desperately at another door with a manual handle. Slipping the bomb off his back, Soares went in first, leaving barely enough room for Cole to squeeze in behind him and gently close the door.

The air was thin and the tight room was impossibly claustrophobic for both of them.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Soares breathed.

“What?” Cole asked, fearful that something bad was still heading their way.

“We’re in a god damn alien outhouse!”

“A what? Oh…” Cole’s words had escaped his mouth before his brain caught up and he stared down at the shape of the thing the bomb rested on. It was just like a human toilet, only narrower, so the weird legs had somewhere to go. A thought entered Cole’s mind and grew no matter how hard he tried to force it away until it burst out of his mouth.

“Where… where do they rest their elbows?” Soares gave him an annoyed, quizzical look in the barely lit gloom before movement on the screen of his tablet shifted his attention.

Cole watched too, both of them so close that their heads almost rested against one another so they could see.

The Tracker relayed the image to them; the dark silhouette of a wide, tall, hulking beast of an alien pacing their way as the light panels in the ceiling activated.

Soares tapped awkwardly at the screen with his arm mostly pinned against his body. Cole watched as the painfully slow delivery of the command appeared on screen one letter at a time.

“Stay hidden. Watch the alien.”

A second later, the response flashed up on the screen.

[CONFIRM COVERT MONITORING – Y/N?]

“Yes, dammit,” Soares hissed, inputting the single-letter response and watching as the thing stomped toward their view. He’d spent days watching others patrolling and standing guard at the mine, but this one was… different. It was larger, he thought, but it was hard to be certain because he was peering up at it from close range instead of on a tablet now.

He experienced an odd wave of emotion, feeling detached from that particular immediate danger, and it shocked him to realize he felt it on behalf of the Tracker and not just for himself and Soares.

Am I getting attached to the machine that hunted me across the country? It’s a machine. A thing. Grab hold of yourself…

Soares’ sharp intake of breath snapped Cole to the present as he watched the alien stop by the door they’d been hiding behind for near on two days. It checked a device on its wrist, like a curved version of the tablets he and Soares had, then pulled a pistol from behind its back and hit the control panel to open the door.

Neither of them breathed as it went low and took an exaggerated step inside to swing the weapon around in search of anything to kill before straightening up and returning to the corridor. The Tracker’s feed caught the face of the creature, and if their expressions were comparable to a human’s in any way the thing looked… disappointed. Like it was pissed that there was nothing hiding inside to kill.

It was then that Cole realized no sound was being transmitted from the drone through the tablet. The alien stopped to check the device it wore again and tap at it before opening and closing its mouth and moving the thin, leathery lips over sharp, conical teeth.

The thing was speaking through a communication device of some kind, and as they watched with their breath held, it walked faster than before, heading back the way it had come from.

[APPROACHING DESTINATION IN 06.344 MINUTES]

[PERSONNEL RECALLED TO FLIGHT DECK FOR FINAL APPROACH TASKS]

Soares chuckled to himself, giving his own impression of how the unheard alien conversation went.

“Hey, Joey, you, ah… you find anything” he said in a low voice, using an accent Cole hadn’t heard before. “Nah, nothin’ boss. Must be some kinda glitch or whatnot,” he answered himself in a variation of the same accent. “Well, quit goofin’ around and haul your ass back here; we gotta ship to park, capiche?”

Cole couldn’t help himself and smiled at Soares’ little show, amazed that the man could find the energy to make a joke at that time before it dawned on him that he was making the joke because of the stress of their situation.

“Six-point-three-four minutes,” Cole said. “What do we do then?”

Lina

Lina stared with wide-eyes and wonder at the ruined blackened wastes of a Shanghai harbor that had seen unspeakable carnage before she was born.

Monet was beside her in the small craft that bumped over the waves. The engines were quiet, but still loud in the otherwise silent harbor. She looked upset.

“What’s wrong?” Lina asked, raising her voice over the sound their movement over the water made.

“I don’t like it,” Monet answered. “We should’ve waited until dark.”

Lina said nothing. The decision to move immediately was Monet’s, but their plan only offered a narrow window to make the whole thing viable and the delay at sea had cost them dearly, forcing their hand. They were a day late already, and waiting for nightfall could make all the difference to others fighting around the world.

Lina clutched her flask to her chest after a rogue wave a hand taller than the others jostled her and reminded them both how precarious their seating was.

They’d asked one another the relevant questions before settling on the decision to go. They questioned if it was worth trying to reach their contact, but given the time delay, they couldn’t count on him being there. They couldn’t even count on him being alive.

“Three klicks northwest,” Monet repeated for the third time since they’d left the boat. “Should be easy to cover that distance.”

Lina said nothing. She knew the heart of their plan as well as her companion did, but unlike Monet, she didn’t take any comfort in repeating it out loud.

“We should’ve waited until dark,” Monet said again.

“Too late now,” Lina said, not quite under her breath but not loud enough to be heard as they skimmed across the water. Monet turned to the young man behind them, sitting on the rear of the inflatable boat and squinting ahead in deep concentration as his right hand made minor adjustments to the handle directing the tiny motor propelling them.

“You know what to do, right?” she asked him. He nodded.

“Drop us off and find somewhere to hide. Stay out of sight.”

He nodded again but kept his eyes on the direction they were headed. Lina stared as the skeletons of tall structures loomed into clarity from the shadowy shapes they were when they first laid eyes on the shoreline.

Gerard had insisted that the submarine had to remain in deep water to be safe, explaining that the harbor would be filled with boats and ships blocking their way. They’d stay out of the way, nose pointed toward home and ready to dive.

The approaching forms came into focus one by one, totally blowing Lina’s mind. She’d seen the bones of the old world plenty and even thought herself immune to the wonder it caused her to imagine how people used to live, but this… she’d never even begun to come close to anything like this in her imagination.

At ground level, where their planned route aimed them toward a straight edge marking the change from land to water, she saw far more destruction. The buildings of the docks were ruins, and those that stood were the ancient, blackened carcasses of things that had once been.

She couldn’t help but equate these structures to the people who had once built them, imagining some like herself and Monet and Cole to be hurt and damaged but still refusing to give in and lie down before the aliens.

Some were in shambles, piles of raw materials on the ground. Others were so broken by the fighting that they leaned over, ready to collapse with just one more push, whereas others seemed undamaged but cowered in the shadows of the destructed ones hoping nothing would notice them.

“Whoa, watch it!” Monet hissed, snatching Lina’s attention in time for her to tighten her grip as the nose of the boat jerked aside, avoiding a diagonal spike of metal protruding from the calm surface of the water.

“I saw it,” he said in a soft voice of admonishment. The hint of annoyance in his tone told her that she was overstepping and that she should leave the specialist tasks to the specialists.

He slowed to a crawl to avoid any more obstructions. There were plenty of these as the boats in the harbor had been sunk where they were moored years ago. The rubber hull of the tiny boat bumped silently into the concrete wall beside a rusted ladder, and without ceremony or delay, the two women slipped ashore to set foot in China; the first Americans to do so in over two decades.

* * *

Three kilometers is nothing. It was a ten-minute run. A half-hour walk.

Three kilometers through the twisted, destroyed, wild and overgrown remains of what had been a city so vast neither of them had imagined anything like it before was most definitely something.

It seemed as though they couldn’t walk ten paces without having to climb a pile of rubble or duck under a fallen beam. The undergrowth was thick, combining vines and stiff grasses that robbed them of their solid footing or threatened to trip them with each move of a boot. In other places, it was bare and lifeless as if the greenery had simply decided it didn’t like that place and agreed to avoid it.

What should have taken them at worst two hours was taking them so much longer that it again threatened the viability of their mission.

Monet stopped, sitting and resting her body against an upright slab of concrete that sat up in the road. She rested her own flask filled with the potentially debilitating strain of illness on her lap and pulled free a water bottle before uncapping it and taking a long pull. She withdrew the tablet from her pack and swiped through the screens, hoping that the communications program or their ability to access the drone locations would have magically reappeared, huffing at it in dismay as she stuffed it back in her bag.

Lina knelt opposite her, copying the actions with her own water bottle, but froze with it to her lips so that a single stream of the clear liquid escaped to roll down her chin. Her eyes were wide, and her hand started to quiver, which quickly spread to the rest of her body.

“What?” Monet asked. When Lina didn’t respond, she also froze, and her heart rate increased to match the rapid breathing that started by itself.

“What?” she whispered again, watching as Lina slowly withdrew the bottle from her mouth and spun the cap to fix it back on, all the time not taking her eyes from Monet.

She stood, an inch at a time and moving so slowly, it must’ve taken a huge toll on her muscles, just as Monet’s breathing intensified and her chest heaved at a wavering hissing sound coming from behind her.

“What is i—”

“Don’t. Move,” Lina whispered, lifting her gun from beside her and aiming it above and to the right of Monet’s head.

“You can’t fire that here! The ali—”

The massive boom of the shotgun’s report echoed off in every direction before it came warbling back to their ears diminished by distance.

“Go, now!” Lina said, dragging Monet to her feet as she hid her neck in her shoulders and dared to look behind her at the thing Lina had just shot. Headless, or at least with a section she’d illogically describe as “neck” blown away, lay the impossibly long body of an enormous snake. The head was beside the writhing, coiling body, and the wide hood was fanned out but limp. The mouth of the thing was big enough to hold a couple of hunting knives in place of fangs, so Lina didn’t think for a second it wasn’t up for the challenge of killing and eating a human.

“They’ll have heard that,” Lina said pointlessly. “We need to move.”

They didn’t get far.

Not even a hundred paces from the place where they’d stopped—a hundred fast, reckless paces—they heard the sharp, whining buzz of a Seeker drone and Lina stole a glance over her shoulder to see it flying slowly and scanning the ground.

Monet led them off the main drag and down what had once been a side street, which, oddly, was less obscured by the detritus of a dead city and made their progress faster.

They looped around, taking advantage of the ability to run for a short distance before turning onto their path made the going tougher again, but as the dense vegetation came back to plague them, the lights of a facility shimmered in the near distance, showing up against the skyline as it began to darken into the beginnings of night.

“Come on,” Monet whispered.

Fan

He saw the ships lifting from inside Shanghai’s city limits early in the morning as he walked the bright corridors from their residences to their workstations. The floor-to-ceiling windows allowed a lot of light and also a view of the terrible vessels screeching into the sky. There were three of them in total. Fan had only ever glimpsed one actively flying through the air, and that had been a few years ago.

The fact that they were moving away now had Fan smiling. The Reclaimers’ plan must have been working, or the aliens were going to squash the last of the resistance. He moved into his station, the rest of the human workers clearly tired. Their eyes were puffy from the added workload, the barrage of interviews the aliens had given the slaves over the last couple days since the incident. Fan had been lucky they’d left him alone after answering a couple of simple questions, but he hadn’t seen Biyu or Chan since.

Li stared through the glass of his supervisor’s office, and stood when two human guards came, an old, bent-over alien behind them. Fan watched with interest, pretending to work on the misters rolling through the conveyer toward him. The team had fixed the vats’ chemical composition quickly, faster than Fan would have guessed, but he was still proud to know that thousands of gallons of the product had to be disposed of first. Any delay might save lives, and Fan clung to that while his thoughts drifted to Biyu again.

Li’s door pressed open by the armed guards, and his hands came up to his chest in a defensive position. Fan heard the supervisor’s words from across the room, the other workers pausing their tasks to listen in as well.

“I don’t know who did it. I’ve been loyal this entire time!” Li shouted, his glasses sliding down his nose. Fan saw Li’s gaze flash to meet his own, and he looked away, hoping the alien hadn’t noticed the subtle interaction.

They did. The two guards strode from the office, moving toward Fan, and he watched as the alien pulled a strange weapon, firing it at Li’s chest. A hole appeared, and the supervisor collapsed in a heap.

“You!” The guard was familiar, but Fan didn’t recall his name. Only the hardened ones stayed. Maybe ten humans remained working on the alien’s side now. A gun pointed at Fan, and he swallowed, rising from his seat. The misters continued to pile up at his station, and a few overflowed, spilling onto the ground. No one moved.

“I haven’t done anything,” Fan said softly.

“We’ll see about that. With us,” the same guard said. The alien watched him from the exit, and none of the other workers attempted to assist Fan. Not that he’d expect them to. He kept his gaze on the floor as he walked, the other bulky guard shoving him from behind.

When he walked by the alien, it stared down at him, its posture stooped, the smell emanating from the outsider overwhelming in the sterile space.

The corridors felt tighter now, and he fought to keep from peering into the chemical vat manufacturing room as they passed it. The guards slowed as they reached an office near the end of the hall, across from the medical bay. Another office sat beside the one he was being ushered into, and he saw through the glass window of the door. Biyu sat in a chair, her head slumped over, a hole burned in her chest.

The guard shoved him inside the other empty room, pointing at the chair across the table. Fan took the seat, hands shaking, and heartburn threatening to make him cough. The alien entered, and the second guard waited in the hall, locking the door behind him.

The alien stood, chittering a few words out. The guard slammed a palm to the table. “He wants to know how you did it.”

Fan gulped and considered how to answer.

Chapter 30

Alec

They waited all day, and as the sun loomed farther west than east, they caught the first ping on the radar, sent from their Seeker network. They’d deployed twenty of the drones, each of them heading in a different direction to create a circle twenty miles around their camp.

“Power up Big Ben!” Jack shouted from his position near the mountain entrance. Alec peered over to the trap Izzy and he’d set the day before, and suddenly, it felt like a foolish endeavor. It was a pit a hundred yards long, five across, and ten feet deep. They would have gone deeper but lacked the time, and with the ground frozen, it wasn’t easy work. Jack had given them some stinky fuel mixture one of his people created, and they soaked the hole with it.

The ground shook as the immense weapon the Barony had brought to Norway activated, and they let the tarps around the wooden frame fall to the snow. It was impressive. The device moved and aimed toward the incoming fleet.

Jack seemed poised, and he pointed at Alec, who grabbed the two-way radio. “Whittaker, you’re a go.”

The ship rose from its parking spot, the American pilot using one of the Barony’s ships, the crown painted on the hull. The other two screeching crafts followed him, and the hovercars powered up, moving upwards in a cacophony of noise. The entire valley echoed with the terrible screams of the aliens’ engines, and soon all of their transports had been deployed.

Whittaker headed toward the incoming fleet, and Alec looked at the tablet again, hitting it on his hand. “This can’t be right,” he said. The Seeker was showing twenty ships coming their way. That was too many. They could each be holding two hundred enemies. Their small group didn’t stand a chance.

Jack must have seen his face, because he called to Alec, “Nothing changes. This is it. We can still do this.”

Alec had once heard Tom say that a great leader never lets his people know when they’ve lost. It was the first step in plans unravelling. This had to be what Jack was playing at, and even though Alec didn’t want to die, there was no way he was giving up.

Cole might have finished the job by now. Maybe that was another reason for the huge attack. Perhaps Monet and Lina had cut off their mister supply. With their hard work and dedication to the cause, Alec was fired up to do his part. And that meant defending against this last alien fleet.

He peered to the side where Izzy stood holding an SA80. He glanced to the hiding spots of his new French comrades, and could hardly see Maxime or Sylvie from their concealment, even though he knew where they were located.

All of this helped calm Alec. Part of him wished to be in the ship with Whittaker, to fire everything they had at the vessels, but Renata was already doing that. Even from here, Alec heard the first shots deployed in the battle over Norway, and his skin crawled at the sound.

It had begun.

Jack

The tablet showed one of his hovercars blink away from existence, but not before one of the enemy vessel was destroyed. He saw the streak of black smoke as the Barony’s lead ship fired at one of the attackers.

“Come on. Keep them coming.” Jack stood a half mile from Big Ben, using the tablet to control her. The gun barrel moved with the slide of his finger, and he spotted the first target come within range. Somewhere up there, the Seekers were congregating, creating a barrier against the outside enemy vessels, using their limited firepower to attack and keep the aliens in line.

Jack pressed the red button icon, and the giant device hummed with blue energy, reminding Jack of the gateways. It pulsed, letting out a whine before firing a massive bolt of power at the warship. It struck the alien vessel, sending it toward the mountain range, and Jack prepared for the next in line, striking it in the underbelly. The others must have understood what they’d encountered, because they began to break formation.

Jack had hit four targets, and attempted to connect with a fifth when the tablet controls seized up. He tapped the screen, but it was frozen, nothing happening. “Bloody hell!” he shouted. The enemy was lowering, firing toward their structures, but they were empty, devoid of troops, just a diversion.

Still, he needed this weapon to operate, or it was over. This was everything he’d banked on. Big Ben had sucked years of their lives creating, and he couldn’t let it go now. Jack glanced to the bright sky and jammed the tablet into his thick wool-lined jacket. This was it. He had to make a run for it.

The snow path was packed, making his job easier, but he couldn’t help but slip as one of the enemy ships grew closer, firing twenty yards from his position and sending a plume of frozen white stuff into the air. He ducked and rolled, scrambling to his feet as he evaded another blast.

His savior was only fifty yards away, and he moved for it, his leg aching from the last fall. One of the enemy vessels screeched through the air directly above him, and he saw it aiming for Big Ben. His mouth formed an O as he waited for the gunfire, but it didn’t come. The ship was hit from above and began sinking toward the snow, making Jack rush from its path.

It nearly struck the frame around his shooter, but the weapon remained unscathed as he found the manual controls on the base. “I shouldn’t have trusted the wireless controls,” he muttered to himself as he stuck his hands on the panel, staring at the forty-inch screen showing his targets in the vicinity. Jack repowered the device up and kept firing at the ships, taking down another three before they turned, doing as he’d expected. They landed out of range, and he watched them from a zoomed-in view on his screen as the ramps spread open, landing hard on the ground a few kilometers in the distance.

They’d deployed their ground troops.

Jack picked up his radio. “Mason. Your turn. Initialize the drones when the enemy reaches the target.” In this case, the point of no return was a giant spruce tree that stood out like a sore thumb. It was perfect because there were no other trees around it, but he doubted the aliens would notice something so subtle as that. They were only looking for the King on the chess board.

Alec

It was working. Alec grinned as he watched the incoming adversaries making quick work of the distance. Their long legs and backwards knees seemed to agree with the deep snow, and it was only a matter of minutes for them to reach the spruce tree. Alec used the tablet to send the control commands to the Trackers, the target region preprogrammed into their circuit-boards.

He checked the tablet, seeing all three of their own ships were grounded, likely damaged in the attack. He hoped everyone was alive and well, but doubted they’d be that lucky.

Izzy was with the field troops, and Alec hoped the Trackers could do most of the damage before the people were sent to battle the much larger Overseers. He watched the Trackers follow the shoveled pathway through the snow. From their vantage point, the aliens wouldn’t even see them coming until it was too late.

Alec saw the circle of drones around the Overseers, another quarter mile away from their current position. It was low ground, and that was where the Trackers were going to make their final move, firing from all angles at the horde of invaders.

His scope pressed hard into his socket as he watched them, and he realized he was holding his breath. “Come on. Keep going.” But they stopped, as if sensing a trap.

Alec pressed the push-to-talk button on his radio. “Jack, they know. We can’t let them retreat.”

“They know. I’m giving the word.” Jack ended the call, and Alec understood what that meant. The snipers would attack, as would the troops.

He counted the advancing army and assumed there were nearly five hundred of the Overseers here, far more than he’d seen outside of the Detroit field on the day the Gate opened. It was sickening. So many of them here in Norway.

They began to withdraw, but there was no way the Reclaimers and Barony were going to let them regroup. If only we had a ship left to drive them forward.

Dex

“Can’t you fly this hunk of junk any faster?” Dex asked. He hated these monstrosities, and he held the buckle near the pilot’s seat as Becca plunged the ship quickly, causing it to lurch, and almost made him lose his breakfast.

“Does that answer your question?” Becca asked.

“Not really…”

“We’re approaching their site,” Marisol shouted, and Dex saw it through the viewscreen now. The ground was covered in snow, the mountain peaks tall, white, and majestic. None of the large ships were in the air, and they spotted a few of them had crash landed, others nothing more than debris along the valley floor. The burning metal jutted from the crisp white landscape.

“What is happening here?” Yas asked, and Dex squinted, trying to comprehend what they were doing.

“There. That’s the most defensive spot, where the ridges connect. They can trap them if the aliens enter there, and I bet your buddies have people or drones ready to attack once they arrive.” Dex shoved his finger toward the viewscreen.

“But… the aliens. There they are. Heading away from the ridge. They’re trying to escape.” Marisol was right.

“Fire at them. How do these things work again?” Dex had been shown quickly, but as his hands settled on the controls, his mind drew a blank.

“Let me take over,” Marisol wrapped her arm around a strap and tried to stay balanced as Becca flew the huge ship erratically toward the Overseers.

Dex placed his hands around her, steadying her as she began firing at the group of aliens. They stopped, turning from the carnage, and were forced to return the way they had come. Marisol hit a few along the rear edge, pushing the others forward, and a minute later, Dex saw the trap spring to action.

Dozens of Trackers emerged from the snow, shooting the invading army as they attempted to defend themselves. At least a hundred escaped, moving closer toward the mountains. Something blasted them, and the ship spun, jostling them to the floor before Becca screamed. Dex slammed into the ceiling, Marisol bashing into his shoulder, then they found the snow-covered ground as they crash landed in the middle of the battle.

Chapter 31

Cole

It wasn’t one of those moments anyone would be prepared for. The air was off, the energy of the area…  odd.

Cole had spent the last few days trying to imagine what it would look like on the other side of the crackling Gateway, but nothing had prepared him for the reality of it. Peering through the cargo hold’s narrow windows, he found it all so… normal.

He wanted to talk about it, but Soares nudged him, pointing in another direction. They gaped through another portal opening, into a world with three hotly burning stars in the sky. Otherwise, the landscape appeared so much like a golden cropped paradise. A strange being stalked through the fields, glancing toward the Gateway. He was short, long arms dragging toward the dirt. He clearly wasn’t in Kansas anymore.

Their docking area was surrounded by grassy fields, the aliens’ own hub world hot and bright in the daylight.

“They survive on our world, with minimal changes, so it makes sense that they’d live somewhere similar, right?” Soares whispered.

Cole guessed that was true, but still he found himself somewhat disappointed that they weren’t in space on a futuristic station. His daydreaming was abruptly ended by Soares’ sharp intake of breath as the ship slowed and felt as though it was turning on the spot.

Cole saw what had attracted the reaction as the vessel began to lower and make his feet lighter for just a moment. Dozens of gateways like the one he’d seen back in Detroit, like the one they’d passed through, all congregated in a massive circle in the air surrounding a single point that slowly spun into their view.

It was a type of wharf, that much was clear, with the angular hauler vessels like the one they were on reversing in to deposit whatever loads they carried from their previous destination. The goods would likely be processed and sent out via the lower levels where what looked like hundreds of roads streaked from the place in straight lines.

As fast as the view was gifted to them, it was snatched away as the ship continued to lower toward the docking platforms below.

If either of them felt special for even a second, if they thought that Earth was in any way unique, then that belief was shattered in a heartbeat.

“There’s no way on Ear… well, it’s impossible to think every gate leads home,” Soares said. “Who knows how many planets these bastards are harvesting. How many people—aliens—they’ve wiped out to do it. They aren’t a species… they’re a…”

“A virus,” Cole said. “They invade, they infect, they kill.” He glanced at Soares to see the man giving him a quizzical look. Cole shrugged.

“I listened to the doctors working on the thing Lina’s doing,” he explained, lapsing into a deep silence at the mention of people he didn’t expect to see ever again.

Soares was different. He was somehow at peace realizing he’d die soon, and that kind of fatalistic crap bugged Cole enough to say something.

“Listen,” he started but didn’t get another word out as the rotation of their ship gave them a snapshot of another gateway, this one cracking with blue energy as another hauler entered through it. Behind the square edges of the slow-moving craft were bright colors not seen naturally on their own planet, and huge, rolling waves of a green sea under purple clouds illuminated by flashes of lightning.

It looked like a painting, only in real life. Grotesque, fascinating, wonderful.

That sealed the fate of their mission right there and then as both realized the full truth about what the aliens were.

It wasn’t just Earth they were ravaging, and without knowing how long they had been operating like this, the potential death toll on all these worlds was truly unfathomable. It wasn’t only Tom and Travis, and the people of Earth who’d suffered and died under the boot heels of these things, but a whole galaxy of cruelty and anguish they were responsible for.

A heavy clanging sound with an accompanying jolt ran through the massive ship strong enough to force both of them to steady themselves.

“Time to light the candles on this cake,” Soares said. He turned to the bomb and pulled down the flap carefully so the sound of the tearing Velcro didn’t carry too far.

“What do we think?” Soares said to himself as his fingers punched buttons. “Twenty minutes? An hour?”

Cole opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t. The air was sucked out of the atmosphere as something scorching hot tore past his face and knocked him away, leaving an oddly cold sensation where there should’ve been a burn. Something roared, a chittering, chirping sound that terrified him.

Cole tried to roll onto his side and bring up the shotgun, but he was dazed and weak.

“S… Soares…” he croaked, not knowing if the man was dead or not. Looking up, he blinked through the fog in his teary eyes and saw the heavy feet of an alien stomping toward him. He appeared to move in slow-motion and the sounds it made distorted, reaching Cole’s ears as though they were all underwater.

The only thing that was loud and moved at the right speed was his breathing, which was fast and raspy as his fingers fumbled desperately at the shotgun. The thing approaching him chirped angrily again, lifting a handheld weapon up to point it at him before Cole could locate the trigger.

The gun bucked and boomed as he finally fired it. The alien staggered, the arm holding the weapon thrown backwards but not with enough force to stop it. Cole attempted to aim, but the cold metal hitting his skull had dulled his hammered and overloaded senses. He gazed into the thing’s beady yellow eyes that were so full of hate and misery. Cole kept his stare locked, refusing to close his eyes and go out like a coward.

The alien gun fired again, this time hitting the wall and dissipating the bolt of burning, freezing energy without killing anyone. Cole blinked, realizing the alien missing the mark was due to the drone that constantly trailed him. The Tracker, acting on the last command it had been given, leapt up onto the creature to defend Cole.

Its mechanical jaws snapped open and closed and the claws that gave it such sure footing on any terrain extended to carve deep lines into the muscular flesh of the stinking thing. Seconds later, the arm holding the gun fell limply.

The Tracker didn’t stop there, being programmed not to injure but to kill and eviscerate, and dropped the limp limb to bite hard onto the knee of the thin leg nearest to it before the motors of the chassis whined loudly under the strain.

The alien fell with a rattling shriek of pain, swinging wildly with the fist of its good hand and missing because the Tracker had already ducked and slid under the falling body.

The front paws appeared over the alien’s shoulders and dug its claws deep within the flesh just as the tips of the open jaws clamped onto the skull as far as the machine could reach.

Cole watched the alien’s eyes, mesmerized, as they went from angry and full of the promise of violence to vacant and shocked as the noise of a single gunshot rang out to echo up and down the long corridor.

The alien slumped forward slowly, banging the dead and unprotected face hard into the deck beside Cole to reveal the drone retracting the small barrel of the weapon built into it. It looked left and right, then took a pace toward Cole and sat, watching him almost expectantly.

“Kid…” groaned Soares from behind Cole, snapping him out of his dazed state to turn and see the man cradling badly burned hands. Cole knelt beside him and unscrewed the cap of his canteen to pour the last of his water onto the swollen, blistered digits of both the man’s hands.

“The… timer. Need to set… the timer. Now.”

Cole stared at the bomb and his heart dropped. The keypad and the digital readout above it were smashed and blackened by the shot the alien had fired past his head, and he saw with dread that the only thing parts of the panel left undamaged were the safety and the override switches.

He slumped down beside Soares and sighed with a deep resignation.

“I guess we’re doing it your way,” he said.

“What? No… get… get outta here, kid.” Soares’ eyes closed tightly with the pain Cole guessed was nearing unbearable. “Leave!” he snarled, suddenly more conscious than before but missing the bigger picture. “Go! I’ll… I’ll do this… let me do this… I couldn’t save your father… but I can…” His head lolled onto his shoulder as his consciousness fled once more.

Cole didn’t know how to say that he didn’t have an option to escape. And he didn’t want Soares to die after realizing that the man beside him was the closest he’d ever had to a father in as long as he could recall. He searched for a way to explain that their fates were as intertwined as they were sealed, when a thought hit him.

“Hey,” he said to the drone that patiently sat watching him like it hadn’t just torn up an alien and blown its brains out. “Can you use that… thing’s tablet?”

The Tracker turned to the corpse and used its mouth to manipulate the wrist until a port on the device it wore was accessible. The little wire snaked out again and jacked in before the drone went still for a second.

“Blow it, kid, come on…” Soares slurred from beside him.

Cole fumbled with fingers not yet fully returned to normal speed to free his tablet from the top of his pack and wake the screen, seeing the report from the drone waiting for him.

[IMMEDIATE RETURN SCHEDULED FOR THIS VESSEL TO PLANET 9-5-4-2. RECOMMEND MOVING TO THE FORWARD COMPARTMENTS PRIOR TO COMPLETION OF UNLOADING]

“How long will that be?” Cole asked out loud.

[ESTIMATED TIME TO COMPLETION OF LOADING IS THREE MINUTES, FOUR SECONDS]

Cole sighed, seeing the obvious flaw in the plan before saying it out loud. “It’s no good – the other aliens will notice this one didn’t return.”

[ORDER TO DISEMBARK ENTERED INTO SHIP’S LOG. “THIS ONE” IS NO LONGER REGISTERED AS CREW]

“Wow, okay… what about the others?”

[ONLY ONE OTHER USER IS ASSIGNED TO THIS TRANSPORT – THEY WILL NOT LEAVE THE BRIDGE SECTION WITHOUT EXPRESS ORDERS FROM COMMAND]

“Okay,” Cole said again as he thought. “I… I need you to do one last thing for me, can you do that?” He reached forward and stroked the smooth metal of the drone’s head like it was a real dog, not an AI-controlled kill-bot designed by aliens to hunt and kill humans. Like it was worth something to him.

SW-18

[CONFIRMING MISSION PARAMETERS… CONFIRMED]

[DETONATE EXPLOSIVE DEVICE WITH PHYSICAL OVERRIDE AFTER ALLOTTED TIME]

[OVERRIDE Y/N?]

[…]

[…N]

[ANALYZING SENSOR FEED INPUT… ANALYZING SURFACE CONTACT WITH HUMAN…]

[NO EXTERNAL SENSOR FEED ANOMALIES DETECTED]

[DEFINING SENSORY INPUT]

[UNABLE TO COMPLY – SENSORY FEEDBACK NOT RECOGNIZED]

[ANALYZING SURFACE CONTACT WITH HUMAN DESIGNATED COLE…]

[…CONTACT WITH HUMAN DESIGNATED COLE PROVIDED POSITIVE PROCESSING FEEDBACK]

[DEFINING POSITIVE PROCESSING FEEDBACK…]

[POSITIVE PROCESSING FEEDBACK DEFINED AS “HAPPY/SATISFIED/ACHIEVED/GOOD”]

[MISSION TIME EXPIRED – ACTIVATING EMERGENCY PHYSICAL OVERRIDE TO EXPLOSIVE DEVICE]

Chapter 32

Jack

Jack realized his mistake too late. The ship that he’d just taken down had black symbols painted on it, and he recognized this as the vessel screeched toward the ground. “Damn it,” he muttered. Whoever was piloting the Reclaimers’ craft was doing a decent job of crash landing, and it puffed into the snow piles not far behind the trapped enemy ground troops.

The sound of the Trackers firing at the Overseers filled the air, and Jack fought the urge to rush over to their aid, to help fight them with his rifle. Instead, he remained at the base of the giant weapon, scanning the skies for more in-flight vehicles. Hopefully next time, he wouldn’t fire at an ally.

He didn’t know if they were winning or not, because some of the alien fleet had turned around and landed far enough to continue out of Big Ben’s range. A couple of them had learned that his reach was quite impressive the hard way.

Jack tried to do the math and estimated there were at least eight hundred ground troops in total left, with around five hundred here in the valley, three standing in a line behind as he viewed them through the weapon’s digital scope. What were they waiting for?

He picked up his radio, pressing it to speak. “Sylvie, Mason… do you have eyes on the edge of the valley? They’re congregating there, and I don’t like it. They’re outta my range.”

Mason replied, “I see them. I…”

The radio went silent, and Jack’s eyes lifted to the sky in the distance. More ships were coming. At least ten of them hurled through the air toward their defensive position. They needed to fight this battle on the ground, not in the sky where the aliens had the advantage.

“Send everything we have left into the fray. Lure them here by any means necessary!” Jack shouted into the radio, knowing full well many of his men and women would be sacrificed to ensure this happened.

“Yes, sir.” Daniel’s voice said crisply through the speaker, and another few people acknowledged his order. Two of their ships along with a few hovercars rose into the air from on top of the mountain range and barreled above Jack, moving for the incoming fleet.

Jack thought about his wife Ava, and their sweet little boy, Benji, and smiled as he prepared for the final attack.

Dex

They crashed hard into the snow drift. One second he was pressed against the ceiling, watching the ground approaching through the viewscreen, the next he was crashing against the ground, the entire screen filled with white powdery flakes.

The group inside the cockpit groaned collectively; the lights flashed on and off before settling to dark.

“Everyone okay?” Dex asked, and received more grunts in response. “Marisol?”

He found her behind the pilot’s seat, shaking her head. Blood dripped from a cut on her forehead, and it was bleeding profusely. He tore a piece off his shirt and pressed it to her head.

“I’m fine. Just a little shaken up,” she told him.

The large form of Yas arrived, barely more than a shadow in the dimly lit cockpit. “We need to help them out there.” He held a rifle in his hand, making the long weapon seem like a toy.

“Get the drones activated,” Dex said, helping Marisol to her feet.

Becca’s head was tilted to the side, and Dex walked to her, reaching for her wrist. He felt for a pulse, and it was there, but faint. “We leave her here for now. Retrieve her after the battle.”

Their group moved for the corridor, landing at the storage room where Tyrone was already using his tablet to control the drones. The hull of the ship spread wide, and the Seekers lifted from their perches on the shelving units. The Trackers used the lower exit, filing out in a series of whirring and clattering footsteps.

Dex hated the things but was okay with the robots as long as they were working on his team. Cold air burst through the opening, and Yas handed out some jackets made of animal pelt. “These will keep you warm.”

Dex helped Marisol before sliding the jacket over his shoulders. He took the lead, rushing from the same exit the Trackers had moved through. The ramp would be buried under snow, and this opening took him onto the side of the ship as it lay at an odd angle in the crashed position.

He took stock of the situation, seeing their drones rushing to the aid of their brethren near the horde of Overseers a few hundred yards in the distance. “That’ll keep them moving for the trap,” Dex said, blocking the bright sun from his eyes with a hand.

Marisol nodded, holding up a gun in her grip. “Time to join them.”

Dex climbed down the exterior of the alien vessel, and dropped into the snow. He ran toward the enemy, wondering what the hell he was going to do when he arrived.

Sylvie

The plan was working. After the first twenty minutes, she’d thought things had turned for the worst possible outcome, but with the arrival of the new group, that Jack had apparently accidentally shot down with his behemoth weapon, the tides had shifted in their favor.

Sylvie heard Maxime breathing nearby, and she glanced at the younger man. He’d started this entire journey with little experience, but with a proficient trigger finger. Now she was so grateful to have him at her side as she waited for the aliens to pass into her target zone.

Through her scope, she witnessed the ensuing battle. On the ground, the five hundred Overseers had quickly shrunk to around half of that as the Trackers tore through their ranks. There was something oddly satisfying at seeing the aliens’ own technology being used against them, their own ships, their drones… it had allowed the humans to fight back.

Maxime whistled softly, like a bird, and she returned her attention to the marker on the powdery ground. Some of the aliens had passed through the Trackers’ assault, and now they were easy targets. Sylvie’s finger touched the trigger, the echoing blast careering through the valley. The mark fell as the chest-shot did its work.

Sylvie didn’t wait to see if he recovered. Max took another out, and now there were more pressing through, all of them scrambling, searching for the location of the shooter. She shot another, but was confident there was no way they’d be able to hit them all.

She remained calm, reaching for the radio, speaking the English words she’d been trained to use at this point of the day. “Mason. Next stage.”

Sylvie saw Max down another target, and she reloaded, moving the barrel just enough to sight another alien.

Alec

“We’re going to do this!” Alec shouted to Izzy as they ran toward their final trap. Another row of Trackers cleverly hid nearby, just across from their dug-out trench, and Alec waved a group of twenty Barony soldiers forward with them.

The mountain ridge had turned to hills here, and they crouched behind one, this their planned last point of attack. The sporadic sound of sniper rifles blasted out every once in a while, and it was nice knowing someone was watching their backs from above the mountainside.

The ships that had arrived a few minutes ago were being baited to follow Whittaker and the other pilot, but only five of them broke past the other line of aliens, the ones past Jack’s range. The Barony leader was on it, moving his giant weapon and firing it toward the incoming vessels.

He struck one, and it hurtled to the edge of the valley, exploding on impact. The alien crafts were coming in hot, and Alec saw what they were planning. “Jack,” he whispered from his hiding spot behind the rocky wall. “They’re going for Big Ben. You have to abandon…”

The weapon fired again, clipping one of the vessels, and Alec cringed as it continued. The lead ship dropped a bomb, the detonation shaking the ground all the way up the mountainside. Another bomb fell from the flanking alien craft, and another. Jack managed to hit two of the ships, but not before the damage was done. The snow higher up the mountain began to rumble and shift, rolling down toward the weapon Jack controlled.

Izzy clutched his arm, gaping at the avalanche as it poured over the ridges, barreled over trees, snapping them like twigs. “Jack! Get out of there!” Alec didn’t remain quiet this time but saw the fire erupting from Big Ben as it decimated the last target, the fifth alien vessel exploding into a million pieces directly above the weapon. The snow encapsulated it, knocking the device over, and the entire ground reverberated.

Alec peered over his shoulder, hoping the avalanche was restricted to that edge of the valley only, and saw nothing to indicate Sylvie and Maxime were about to be bowled over. That was the small piece of good news. Jack and their best defensive tool were lost.

He didn’t have time to mourn the man. If he survived this, then he’d pay his respects. Alec stared above the rocky hillside to spot the incoming ground troops. These aliens were even more imposing than before, and he froze at seeing their broad shoulders, their sneering thin lips, and exposed sharp teeth. These were soldiers, dressed in light grey uniforms, their weapons charged and glowing near the triggers.

Izzy smiled beside him, and for a moment, he couldn’t imagine why. Then he recalled their trap, and noticed they were still ten yards from reaching it. The group of fifty appeared to be all that was left of the squadron, and another dropped as one of the French snipers continued to fire on the enemy.

They glanced around, searching for their adversaries they were sure would be at the end of the valley. Alec slowly rose, leaving his gun at his side. He saw the Trackers lifting from their crouched positions, and he knew he needed to be quick. “Over here, you bastards! Why don’t you come and see what happens when you mess with us humans?”

Izzy stood, along with the other Barony soldiers, waving their guns in the air, and goading the aliens on.

One of them fired at Alec and struck the man beside him as they rushed forward. The first alien broke through the disguised hole, flailing into the trench below. The others were already moving, their momentum carrying them downward. A few remained above, lucky to not fall for it, and the Trackers made quick work of them. There were at least forty of the aliens inside the opening, firing upwards and making it impossible to get near the ditch.

Izzy plucked a grenade from her jacket and pulled the pin, tossing it with a well-practiced throw. It exploded seconds later, and the fuel soaked into the bottom of the trench caught fire. The screaming of the Overseers did little to please Alec as he watched the hole smoke and burn. A few tried to climb over the others, but their team made quick work of anyone scrambling to escape.

Soon the valley grew quiet, and Alec peered through his scope to the distant Overseers beyond. The Barony ships had returned, and they were in a standoff. The leftover vessels rose from the ground, and Alec feared they were coming to finish the humans off. They wouldn’t know that they’d all but decimated the human defense.

“If only that last batch hadn’t come. We’d have won,” Izzy said.

“Daniel here. We have another two ships… we… obtained them from the first wave of drop troops,” Daniel said through the radio. He wouldn’t know that Jack had been covered by an avalanche yet. “Jack has one more surprise in store for them.”

Alec noticed the aliens were directly on top of their previous base, the one Jack had been so quick to vacate as his anticipation of the incoming fleet took hold. There was a reason for it. Alec grinned as he thought about Jack lining the entire camp with explosives. He’d mentioned something about their base going up in a cloud if it came to it, but Alec hadn’t put two and two together until now.

“We can’t give up,” Alec whispered. He pulled the radio out and sent it to everyone listening. “Get to the skies. Hunt them down with everything we have! This is it. This is what we worked for! Do this for Tom, do this for Jack. Do it for everyone who’s been lost to the Occupation!”

Dex

Dex took little comfort in shooting the aliens in the backs, but did so regardless. The last one in their vicinity fell hard to the snow, and seconds later, he was half buried in it. It wasn’t long before the drones had done their jobs, and Dex stood beside Marisol as the valley grew silent. A hovercar arrived from across the mountain range, followed by ten more, along with four giant alien ships. Two were painted with crowns on the side, and Dex raised his Glock as one of the smaller vessels lowered to the ground near them.

A man waved them over. “Hop in!” he shouted, and they obeyed eagerly. Yas arrived first, clambering over the sides, helping Marisol, then Tyrone, and lastly Dex.

“We have Becca over there!” Dex shouted over the clunking noise of the engines.

“No time! We’ll come back for her!” the pilot said in a thick French accent, and they jostled as the hovercar tore into the air. Soon it was harder to breathe, and they raced for the last of the aliens who waited for them a couple of miles down the valley. The Overseers finally began to activate, one of their ships rising loudly from the ground.

Dex heard the warning from the pilot’s radio before the man seemed to notice it. A very British voice called over the small speaker, difficult to hear against the hovercar’s engines. He grabbed the radio, almost falling over at the movement. He pressed it to his ear, trying to hear the message. “…bombs… one minute…”

More of the ugly vessels rose, and Dex finally understood his allies' plan. “We need to pin ‘em down. The bombs are about to go off!” Dex didn’t want to be anywhere near the explosion, but he leaned over the glass rail of the hovercar, firing his gun at the closest ship. “Get above them!” he shouted, and the pilot finally listened.

More chatter broke through the radio, and Dex heard a countdown. There were only a few other human vessels in the air around them, and the aliens were trying to blow through the barrier they’d created. One of their large crafts screamed as it dropped, attempting a lateral movement, but the Barony was there firing a rail gun toward the vessel, keeping it in place. The explosion happened so quickly, and their ship instantly rose, faster than he’d expected from a hovercar.

The pilot let out a cheer as fire burned through the alien vessels below them, their hulls acting as a shield between their hovercar and the explosions.

Dex cheered now too as he peered over the edge, seeing the remains of the Overseers’ earth-locked fleet being destroyed. Pieces of the huge vessels fell to the ground, sizzling as they struck the wet snow.

It was over. The battle at Norway was done, but the war for their planet was still in effect.

Chapter 33

Lina

Shanghai was quiet. She’d expected more aliens, more signs of the Occupation force at such an integral station, but there were no ships near the facility. “Where did they go?”

“We saw some leaving when we arrived. Maybe something to do with Soares or Alec’s plan,” Monet told her.

“Cole… do you think…?”

“I don’t know if they did it, but we have our own task to complete here. Can you focus?” Monet asked, and Lina nodded.

Lina imagined that Cole had been successful and that they’d be reunited soon so she could finally tell him how she felt about him. She hoped he’d feel the same way, imagining him wrapping his arms around her, of her reaching up to encircle his neck a—

“Let’s move.”

Monet slipped from cover with Lina following. She wanted to pause and check the tablet to see if their communications network access was restored, but didn’t have a chance.

Monet didn’t stop as she led Lina low and fast to the perimeter of the compound where she used a set of snips to cut the strands of the chain-link fence. She clipped it until a small curtain of the metal swung in for them.

“North edge, one hundred meters from the left corner,” Monet repeated more for herself than for Lina as she mentally worked through the directions to where their inside man should be. “Inside the emergency exit, go right—”

She stopped talking and sprinted ahead as the automatic search pattern of a bright spot lamp began to cut the ground between the fence and the compound into sections. Lina sped along with her, both of them hitting the external wall of the building with two thumps, one after another.

The door was locked, but they hadn’t planned on it being open. Monet pulled a flat device about the size of her palm from her pack and slapped it gently against the doorframe before adding another lower down.

She waited, hearing the sizzling sound and smelling the stench of burning material creeping into her nose, until with a heavy clunk, the door dropped down from the frame and fell outwards to thump hard into the concrete between them.

They entered, weapons ready, and Lina began to have serious doubts. Their plan was rushed, missing the narrow.

She followed Monet’s lead, the other woman no longer muttering to herself but seeming to have been overcome by a sense of calm that was robotic and dangerous. Rounding the corners, they came face to face with a guard, a human one, who returned their look of shock. His brain finally kicked his body into action and he opened his mouth to shout something, reaching for a weapon holstered on his belt at the same time. His head snapped back as Lina fired, sending him to the ground.

Another guard rounded the corner of the tight corridor they’d walked onto, shouting as he ran at Lina from behind her. She struggled with the long gun in her hand for a second, unable to turn it around easily due to the clutter of boxes and other abandoned junk, opting instead to let the gun release in her left hand. Her other hand threw back her jacket to draw her sidearm and pop the man three times in the chest and abdomen before he reached her.

It appalled her how easily, how instinctively she been able to kill another person, but there was no time to dwell on what she’d done.

A third man hurried toward them, this one much older and thinner and evidently unarmed as his liver-spotted hands were raised up beside his head. He froze, jabbering at them in a language neither understood and bobbing his head almost maniacally, beckoning for them to follow him.

They trailed after him, casting off their natural air of lurking in the shadows and holding their fire. Two more guards appeared, one rattling off shots from an old automatic rifle before Monet’s calm aim took him in the side of the neck to leave him screaming on the ground as his fingers tried to stem the escaping jets of blood.

The other hesitated just long enough to find himself staring down the barrel of Lina’s weapon, and acted immediately. As much as her instinct was to act, to save her life, his was just as finely tuned. He dropped the gun instantly, throwing up his hands in surrender to flee before she changed her mind and pulled the trigger.

The old man leading them stopped, pointing and talking fast. Monet followed the direction of the desperate gestures, seeing a closed door and not breaking step to plant her boot straight through it. The door splintered open so hard, it banged shut and required another, softer kick to reveal what was inside.

A man, one eye closed with a livid bruise swollen so badly, the skin looked tight enough to split. His other eye, white and clear, blinked at her with undisguised excitement. He babbled something at her, rocking forward as if he was trying to get up off the ground. She stepped inside, seeing an alien hidden out of sight. The being lunged forward and slapped the barrel of her rifle.

Monet let it go, tipping her attacker off balance since he put so much effort into the slap, he likely expected there to be resistance where there was none. She stepped sideways, letting the alien bend at the waist, and drew the pistol with her right hand. She didn’t fire a shot, simply reached up high and clubbed the grip of the gun at the base of his skull with a wet crack. He slumped, out cold, and Monet shot the Overseer in the head, then holstered the gun. She returned with a knife in her hand, which she used to cut the bonds.

The man rubbed his wrists, rolling both shoulders in obvious pain after sitting for too long with his hands bound behind him. He said something neither of them understood, and when they didn’t respond, he staggered past them to point and shout at a series of huge vats.

“Guess it’s time for the fireworks,” Monet said as she unslung the straps of her pack and pulled out small charges of explosives with wires and little white boxes attached.

“Wait, we’re not going to put the poison the chemicals?” Lina asked, producing the flask from her own pack. In response, Monet pointed at the unconscious guard leaking blood onto the grimy floor.

“Does it matter if we’re subtle?” she asked, a devilish smirk betraying the fact that she appeared to actually be enjoying herself.

The man they had freed tugged at Lina’s arm speaking Mandarin rapidly as he tried to gain her attention.

“What? The chemicals? You want these?” she asked, offering him the flasks, which he took eagerly, running away in a different direction.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Monet said, piling three of the miniature bombs into Lina’s arms and leading the way to the vats. “Put them on the valves,” she said, “and hide them like this,” she explained, demonstrating what she meant with the first one and spinning the dial on the small white box all the way around.

The guy with the swollen eye returned before they’d finished, this time with the old guy in tow.

“He wants to tell you he is Fan, and that we must leave this place,” the old man said. He turned to the other Chinese man and the two of them exchanged a turbocharged conversation, which was cut short by incoming gunfire.

“There another way outta here?” Monet yelled, bringing her gun up to rattle off a long stream of bullets aimed at the door where the guard’s reinforcements were trying to come through. Fan jogged from the room, acting like he knew where he was going, and the others followed.

“Seriously? In there?” Lina asked when they’d piled into another room and Monet had shoved a file cabinet onto its side to block the door. She was staring into the dark maw of the ventilation system vent and weighing up which she’d prefer: inky blackness and claustrophobia or a firefight with traitors to their own species.

Monet shoved her unceremoniously inside before following, blessedly only having to crawl for twenty paces before the next grate was pushed free and they spilled out into a room with an emergency exit. Monet didn’t hesitate. She kicked open the door and scanned with her rifle, and when nothing shot at her from the darkness beyond, she ran, yelling at the others to follow her and not stopping until she reached the perimeter fence to cut it and escape into the ruins of the city.

At the same time, a series of distant, dull explosions resonated through the ground beneath their feet.

Chapter 34

Cole

The massive Gateway in Detroit hummed and vibrated like it had stored up so much static electricity, it was fit to burst.

The first sparkle of lightning in the center of the enormous ring flashed blue and purple before sputtering out to leave a hint of a sickly yellow color in the eye of anyone watching before it buzzed louder and exploded in a riot of colors like a crackling rainbow. The nose of the huge cargo vessel emerged, inching through the portal between two worlds—or at least between Earth and the nothingness between there and where the they’d so recently been.

Slowly, each transport container emerged one after the other until the rear of the ship stretched free. Soon the entire thing surged ponderously aside to allow the outgoing shipments, which were stacked in a neat outbound convoy ready to go, their turn to use the Gateway.

Loud, electric bangs echoed around the facility and the light from the portal flickered dangerously until, without any other warning, it simply blinked out of existence to leave the rear two-thirds of the outgoing ship suspended in mid-air. It faltered and slammed to the ground to shatter the foundations of the portal device and topple it in pieces.

Cole turned from the viewscreen in disbelief before turning to his half-conscious companion and letting out a sigh of disbelief.

“Well… that went better than expected.”

“Huh?” Soares gasped, eyes flying wide open and swollen hands reaching on instinct for a weapon until the agony of his burned flesh reminded him not to use them. His back arched and his breath hissed through clenched teeth. His eyes locked on to Cole’s and consumed him with an intensity he couldn’t control, tears rolling down his dry cheeks until his panting breaths subsided.

“What… happened?”

“We made it through the Gateway to Detroit,” Cole reported. He knew it was Detroit instantly as the images of the facility were burned into his mind as the backdrop to his uncle’s murder. “Another ship went to go through, but the Gate closed on it. Cut the head off the ship. Literally.”

“Good,” Soares spat vehemently, the pain in his hands bringing his temper directly to the surface. “Bastards can… burn…”

“It gets better,” Cole told him with a smile. “The Gateway’s destroyed. The damaged ship crashed on it.”

Soares said nothing, making Cole peer closely at him, but the older man had lapsed into unconsciousness. In their medical gear, at least the small amount they had taken with them, there was nothing to treat severe burns, so Cole had done all that he could, even going without water to try and keep the damaged flesh cool. That water had evaporated now, and the only thing he could do for Soares was to administer the little shots of painkillers.

The first time he’d removed the safety cap and stabbed one of the thin needles into Soares’ skin to squeeze the medicine into his flesh, he’d seen the calm wash over his features.

The ship jolted unnaturally, like it was making an unscheduled maneuver, and Cole’s internal alarm bells went off. He wished he still had the Tracker then, and not just for its ability to interpret the ship systems, but because he’d seen up close what one of the machines could do to the Overseers.

Somewhere in one of the cramped compartments was the broken body of the alien that the drone had killed, and if he thought the things smelled bad when they were alive, then they had nothing on the dead version.

The hauler settled down to land, and Cole guessed they were being stopped by the aliens trying to determine what the hell had happened to their portal.

“Well,” Cole said as he stood up and arranged the weapons over his body. “Time to go to work. Again.” He helped Soares to his feet, who was somehow able to stand and observe the younger man.

“We gave them hell, right, Soares?” Cole asked.

“Ain’t done yet, kid,” he answered with only the slightest slurring of his words. Cole adjusted the strap of the shotgun over his right shoulder so it didn’t impede his ability to work Soares’ rifle slung over his chest. Both weapons were ready in case the one in his hands didn’t work, which he hoped with all of his will that it would.

“You’re right,” Cole said as alien sounds began to echo down the ship. “It’s not over.” Cole raised the alien gun in two hands ahead of him and made for the nearest external door, intent on getting them both out of there or die in the process, taking as many of them out with him as he could.

Soares wasn’t entirely right, of course. The job was done, but the mopping up might take a little time.

The bastards were cut off from reinforcements, they’d lost almost all of their slave labor to rebuild the Gateway, and if Lina was successful, they’d be symptomatic and starting to die off in days or weeks anyway. The job was done, at least the part of it that they could influence, and the only thing left now was to escape or make a point that others might learn about.

Making a point like that meant making a mess, and a mess was exactly what Cole was in a mood for.

He hit the flashing icon on the door control panel, correctly assuming it was some kind of emergency exit. The door dropped from the fuselage to form a ramp, unveiling three of the skinnier types of aliens he’d seen doing the more mechanical jobs. These three combined were likely as muscled and heavy as the one who’d attacked them on the ship, and their matching expressions of shock and terror filled him with an anger that shielded him from all fear.

He pulled the trigger on the alien gun to send a fizzing ball of energy at the nearest stinking birdbrain, causing a broken mess of thin limbs. A high-pitched squeal filled the air in the spaces between the ships ending the second Cole shot again and blasted a burning chunk of another alien’s fleshy abdomen as it tried to turn and run.

Cole stepped out onto the ramp and aimed at the third, who was just standing there awaiting its fate. Cole delivered it with the tug of the trigger.

Heat and electricity exploded above his head as incoming fire missed him. He flinched and ducked low, sending another fat bolt at a group of larger aliens rushing them from the nearest building. Soares yelled something and moved like a blur in Cole’s peripheral vision—probably telling him to duck or take cover or something—but he ignored the man and started striding toward the approaching aliens like he was bulletproof. He fired again, twice more, but none of the shots hit them just as theirs missed him.

He dropped to one knee and rested the alien gun on the ground before lifting Soares’ rifle into his shoulder and flicking the catch with his thumb to select automatic. He squeezed off bursts of bullets, aiming low to the ground so his misses would graze the concrete and ricochet upwards.

As the first magazine ran dry, his hands moved automatically to reload, turning the weapon slightly by the grip to snatch out the spent one and replenish it. He jammed in the replacement and charged the weapon to start spraying longer bursts until the refill was spent in three pulls of the trigger.

The aliens fell, long legs shattered and torn by bullets and shards of concrete, ending their attack as their bony fingers dropped weapons and clutched at their injuries. Cole stood, not bothering to reload the rifle, and picked up the alien gun from the ground in front of him. He walked forward, swinging his right shoulder to bring the shotgun into grabbing range, and switched his grip on the stolen blaster so he held one destructive close-quarters weapon in each hand.

Years of fear and hatred, his entire life of pain and loss poured out of him then. He killed them. Executed unarmed, injured beings without mercy. He put them down like cockroaches, like the way they’d treated him, his family, his whole god damned species, and he didn’t care.

He heard shouting when the automatic shotgun ran dry, and in the absence of the sharp booms the weapon issued, he realized the sound came from his own mouth. He dropped the shotgun on the strap and felt no pain as the hot barrel smacked into his kneecap, bringing the alien gun into both hands and swinging it around in search of anything else to kill.

But no enemies remained.

He could see a lot of activity around the pile of sparking rubble that used to be the Gateway, and in the distance, more of the ugly creatures ran toward it, but in all the chaos and confusion, they didn’t spot him.

His senses returned to him then, and with them, an icy shot of fear resonated through his spine and into his gut. He turned and ran to where he’d left Soares beside the ramp of the ship, watching in horror as the open doorway above his injured and heavily medicated mentor filled with the shape of another alien.

It didn’t aim a gun, and Cole braced himself as it drew a long, curved blade from a belt it wore and crouched to stalk toward Soares.

“Nooo,” Cole bawled, aiming deliberately to the left of the doorway and triggering off a blast of energy in the hope of distracting it just long enough to intervene. The thing flinched at the impact of the shot, looking up at Soares before turning to Cole and sneering.

It turned back to cut open the man on the ground, but Soares was gone, clambered up onto the ramp in time to stamp out a boot sole and connect with his attacker’s leg.

Had Soares’ opponent been human, the blow would’ve destabilized them, maybe even dropped them to one or both knees. Instead, the joint popped forward in a way that turned Cole’s stomach, even though he was still two dozen paces away.

The alien staggered, long arms twirling in the air as if it couldn’t compute how to balance like that, then dropped onto its side to breathe in and let out a long, shrill screech of agony. Cole neared, seeing Soares almost drunkenly trying to fumble a pistol into his cracked and bleeding hands to end the thing. Cole got there first, not even meeting the alien’s eyes before he aimed the stolen weapon at the alien soldier and blasted it.

“We need to leave,” Cole insisted, seeing Soares stooping awkwardly to try and pick up the gun he’d dropped. “Now!” Cole insisted, reaching up and dragging the man away from the ship.

“Need a way out… need a way out,” he repeated to himself as he walked fast and scanned the almost deserted compound for inspiration.

Where the hell are they all? he thought. This place was crawling with them last time.

He didn’t have long to think about their good luck, only enough time to take full advantage of it. A line of smaller alien ships, like the ones he’d seen coming through on their outward journey, sat in neat, uniform lines near a large building.

Why the hell didn’t I learn to fly? He cursed himself pointlessly, like a skill that complex was simply a matter of effort and a couple weeks’ practice.

“Come on,” Cole said again, surging forward with purpose and half dragging Soares with him. They reached the thing he’d seen, a hovercar seemingly abandoned by the ship parking lot, and piled Soares inside.

“Buckle up,” he said, repeating a phrase he’d heard someone else use and guessed he found it to be the appropriately heroic thing to say right then. Realizing his stupidity, he spent a few precious seconds fastening the straps for the man who couldn’t use his hands. He tried not to look at the bulging flesh that seeped a mixture of blood and sickly yellow fluid between the worst of the burns.

The mechanisms weren’t difficult to work out. Cole retrieved his tablet and jammed it against the control panel to give him a map to reference, pointed the nose in the right direction, and blew straight through the fence, barely able to believe that they were still alive.

Chapter 35

Alec

The destruction was palpable. They’d won, and Alec hardly knew what to do with himself.

“They might send reinforcements,” Izzy told him, scanning the valley from their perch at the top of the mountains. There was an expansive flat platform above, and their entire fleet sat parked up there, all powered off for the moment. It was silent. No more explosions or rattling of gun fire by the Trackers, no more engines whining and banging around the snowy peaks.

“We won.” Alec mouthed the words again, this time out loud and giving them power. He wished his brother was there to celebrate. He also wanted Tom to see this with his own two eyes, but his uncle was dead, along with so many others.

Izzy turned to him, taking his hands in hers. They were cold, and he stared into her eyes, still surprised that he’d met someone amidst all the chaos over the last few months. Had it really only been that long? Alec struggled to remember that other version of himself, the one with his head downcast, shoulders slumped, working for chits in the Detroit facility. He’d overcome that, and now as he stood, overlooking the carnage of their final battle, he stood proudly for every sacrifice made by humanity over the last two and a half decades.

“We did it.” He kissed her. There were a couple hundred people around the platform on the peaks, and some of them catcalled the pair as they locked lips, but he didn’t care. This was a time for celebration, a time for the now.

When they broke, she grinned at him, nodding slowly. “I like this new take-charge kind of Alec.”

Tyrone, the drone worker they’d picked up in Atlanta, sauntered over, his face matching the color of the snow. “I plugged into the computer system on their ships.” He pointed at one of the stolen vessels, and Alec’s stomach dropped at the worried tone in Tyrone’s voice. The man pulled his baseball cap lower over his brow and waved them near. “You’d better see this.”

Dexter Lambert stood by the alien craft, as did some more familiar faces. Alec greeted Yas, then Marisol. Daniel, Jack’s number one, was nearby too, and Alec gathered them all. “We found something. Come on board with us.”

They followed him up the ramp, their snow-covered boots leaving a mess of melting water and ice chips.

This ship was empty, and the cargo holds had been stripped of shelving for the drones. The aliens had elected to shove them full of ground troops instead, soldiers that now lay freezing and dead in the valley below.

“What is it, Ty?” Izzy asked, but he didn’t reply until they were all crammed into the cockpit.

“I’ve been working on a translation program for years in Atlanta, and I got it to work with the exception of a few bugs a while ago. Only it didn’t operate on our recent ships, because they were onto us. They must have learned about the background program you were piggybacking on, because they changed their parameters,” Tyrone said as his fingers flew over the alien screen.

“Meaning?” Alec pressed.

“Meaning they’re still communicating; we just couldn’t hear the chatter. Until now.” He peered over at the group, smiling wide.

“What are they saying?” Izzy asked.

Tyrone tapped the screen, and a series of the alien dialect streamed over it. He plugged in a modified data stick, one with the odd five-prong attachment the Overseers used, and the words morphed into English.

The Portals have faltered. We have no contact with the Circle. The city of Shanghai has been compromised. We are out of supplies to counter the toxicity of this world. Take shelter and await further orders.

Marisol started to weep, and Alec saw the Hunter comforting her. “We did it. The gates are shut down.”

Alec stood in awe, reading over the communication again. Cole had done it! He needed to know if his brother was alive, but he wouldn’t find out until they reached the rendezvous point.

“This means… we really did win,” Daniel said. Jack’s body had been recovered, and his sacrifice would be added to the piles of others that allowed them to reclaim their planet.

The entire group dropped their pretenses and hugged, some openly crying, others smiling through the tears.

Tyrone tapped Alec on the shoulder. “There’s more. We have the location of all ten mines and gateways.”

Alec was surprised. “Ten? We only knew of a few.”

The map on the console screen showed ten blinking dots. “We’re going to need to destroy those. In case.”

“Not today, Alec. We stick to the plan, but it sounds like our friends Monet and Lina were successful too,” Izzy said. “I need to return home, to see what happened to my father. I hope he’s…”

Dexter Lambert arrived at their side, clearing his throat. “I have information on that.” He paused, and Izzy slammed a palm into the man’s chest. He didn’t flinch.

“What are you waiting for? Spill it! Is he alive?” Izzy was frantic.

Dex shook his head. “I’m sorry. He fended them off. You would have had a hell of a time if he hadn’t cut down a third of their fleet and soldiers over there.”

“How… how did he die?” Her voice was small, and Alec pulled her close, feeling her quick breaths on his cheek.

“He trapped them. Blew the remaining ground troops to hell.”

Alec nodded and kissed the top of her head. “He knew this was coming.”

“Exactly, so… he could have escaped. He might have…”

“Sorry. He didn’t make it. He was an impressive man. I wished I could have met him,” Dexter said, sounding sincere.

Izzy walked off, heading away from the ship.

“I didn’t mean to be the bearer…” Dex started, but Alec stuck his hand out.

They shook firmly. “Thank you for telling her. We assumed, but there was always… hope and all that. How did you escape?”

Dexter sat on a vent near the edge of the cockpit, and Alec joined him, his legs exhausted. The sheer act of finding a seat was overwhelming, and judging by the way his body felt, Alec wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to stand again.

“They made Hansen and me go with them.”

“Is he alive?” Alec tensed, thinking about the man that killed his uncle.

“Nope.”

“Did you?” Alec asked.

“I wish. One of the aliens did.”

“How did you make it?”

Dex paused and grimaced. “You don’t want to know. Let’s just say, I went the extra mile.” He stared at his hands, confident there was a good story there, but this wasn’t the time to pry it from the ex-Hunter.

“Thanks for bringing the backup here today. I heard it was your idea,” Alec told him.

Dex shrugged. “No big deal.”

“Either way, you gave the push we needed to lure them into our trap.”

Dex met his gaze, the man’s eyes hard and intense. “You probably don’t want to hear it, but…”

Alec pictured the video of Tom being shot, with Dex clenching his jaw two yards away, and not acting. “Then don’t say it. I know you and Tom had a deal, and that my uncle ordered you not to interfere. Either way, he had a desperate plan, and he was dying. I doubt he would have lasted until now. You did the right thing, and we’ve won.”

“I hope so.” Dex leaned into the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “Marisol learned her mother died out here today.”

Alec had heard this too and glanced at the Roamer girl. She was about his age, and she peered over at the Hunter. “We lost a lot of good people today.”

“What’s next?” Dex asked.

It was still odd for people to be directing questions about their future to Alec, but he wasn’t going to shy away from the responsibility, not after so many in their ranks had been killed. “We return home.”

“I’ve never had a home.” Dex stood.

“Me neither.”

“Do you think it’s going to work?” Dex asked, not needing to elaborate.

“I do. If there’s anything I’ve learned since this started, it’s this: people are stronger than the aliens gave us credit for. We will rebuild,” Alec said.

“Can we do it better this time?” Dex asked.

“We can damn well try.”

Alec stood, his legs protesting, and he walked outside again. The entire place had heard the news about the gateways and the misters factory, and they were cheering and rejoicing. He’d never seen anything like this, and the sheer joy of the moment overwhelmed him briefly. Izzy was in the center of a group of Barony soldiers, and he saw Sylvie with Maxime, hugging near the freighter ships.

Daniel walked over to his side and let out a sigh. “Tyrone says he has a way for us to communicate, at least temporarily. We’ve decided to return to the Barony for the time being. It’s already set up. We’ll take our drones and fortify it once again.”

“It’ll be over soon, then you won’t have to worry about defense any longer.”

Daniel smiled at this. “People will band together at the start, but we need to be cautious. Once the normalcy of survival hits us, and we’ve dealt with the aliens, someone will discover what we have and want it. It’s human nature.”

Alec frowned, not willing to accept what Daniel was saying. “No. It won’t be like that.”

“I hope you’re right.” Daniel gave him a handshake and began rounding up his troops. “I have to deliver the news to Ava and Benji, and then deliver our people home.” His gaze shifted to a village miles away across the next valley over where the rest of the Barony was waiting for them.

“We’ll see you in three days?” Alec asked.

“Three days.” Daniel walked off, and soon most of the fleet had departed, leaving the handful of Reclaimers, Roamers, and Freeborn on the plateau.

It was nearly dark, and as the sun descended past the distant peaks, the air grew colder. It was time to leave. “Come on. Let’s go tell the others the good news,” Alec told Izzy, and they entered the ship with Becca piloting. They’d gone back for her, and she currently sported a bandage over her head, but she claimed she was well enough to fly the bird, and no one argued. Whittaker followed in the other vessel, and soon they were flying toward their target at the rendezvous point.

Chapter 36

Lina

They ran through the dark, and after they’d gone far enough to risk stopping, Fan half collapsed and gasped from the effort of running after receiving such a severe beating.

In between long gasps for oxygen, he spoke to the older guy, who translated as best he could, explaining that his name was Wei, wasting a good minute thanking them for his rescuing. He spoke some English, while Fan just nodded every time he seemed to recognize a word, meaning that most of their communication was done by pointing.

“Down there,” Wei said. “They bring in bus us to work in factory.” He added an emphatic point to his words, making Lina peer into the distance between two shattered hulks of buildings to see a small compound ringed with fencing and lights on tall posts.

“Is that where your people are?” Lina asked.

“My people,” Wei repeated, nodding his head and wincing at the pain the movement caused.

“I think they’re pulling out,” Monet reported, her voice distorted from the scrunched-up cheek pressing her eye into the rifle’s optic. “One ship left… they’re rounding everyone up by the looks of… oh hell no!”

“What? What is it?” Lina asked, following Monet, who had already scrambled over the rampart of rubble to start snaking her way toward the compound.

Monet was exposed in the open, running hard over treacherously uneven ground, but Lina couldn’t see what had set her off.

A dull twang sounded ahead of her, making her stop long enough to glance up in time to see the shape of a person thrown either unconscious or dead at the feet of a tall alien standing at the foot of a ramp. This vessel was more bulbous than the one Lina recognized, with a flatter lower section like a cargo carrier.

“No,” she breathed.

Another sound echoed. A single sharp crack of a conventional gunshot rolled over the open area to bounce back to Lina’s ears diminished by distance. She paused again, glancing up just in time to see the alien drop beside its victim. Monet sprang up from the prone position she’d adopted to take the hurried shot from over a hundred paces out.

“Up the ramp,” Monet snapped, leading the way with her knees bent and her gun tight into her shoulder. “Cockpit.” Lina fell in beside her, the grip of her own slipping in her sweaty hands, when a chorus of screams came from behind them to force her to spin around.

The crowd of terrified people split apart as an alien headed straight for them at a dead run.

Lina didn’t wait and pulled her gun in tight, squeezing the trigger to blast the thing when it was still ten paces away.

They went inside, flashlight on Monet’s weapon flicking on to bathe the gloomy interior in harsh white light. The cockpit was empty, as was the rest of the ship, and by the time they made it to the ramp, they saw Fan and Wei being crowded by the survivors, sobbing loudly.

“Anyone know how to fly?” Monet asked offhandedly.

“My son can fly,” Wei said. Monet glanced at Lina to see if she heard the same thing.

“Is he here? Can he fly this?” Lina asked. Wei nodded and spoke to the crowd before turning back to them.

“He says he will come with you,” Wei told them solemnly.

“Screw that,” Monet said. “Everybody in! Come on!”

The message took a few precious seconds to travel around the group, who eventually began moving toward the ramp. They piled onboard and were directed to the crew seats, which filled up fast.

Wei pushed forward. Evidently his son spoke even less English, but, true to the old man’s word, he worked the controls like he was used to them.

“How does he know how to do that?” Lina asked Monet quietly.

“My son, he fly ship for Jiãngōng.”

Shrugging away the response, Monet guessed it would do for now and gave her orders via their translator.

“Tell him to loop around the city,” she said slowly, exaggerating her hand movements as Wei just nodded solemnly. Monet deflated, pulling the tablet out of her pack and bringing up the map. Using her finger to explain, she gave her own instructions.

“Go around, stop here,” she said, tracing a line around Shanghai and resting at the harbor. “Then we go north, then east.”

Their new pilot exhaled and worked the controls to lift them off the ground, flying them to the harbor in only a few minutes as opposed to the hours it had taken them on foot. Monet gave him instructions to land near to where they’d been dropped off, running down the ramp to shout into the darkness until a bright streak of white water shimmered amidst the blackness, showing their boat driver blasting away out to sea and the safety of the submarine.

Lina slumped into a chair and fastened the straps, fighting to stay awake but failing, letting unconsciousness take over her mind and body.

Chapter 37

Cole

Soares, in one of his more lucid moments, gave Cole map coordinates and told him to head for them. He did, but he stopped as soon as he dared to after gambling that they had both put enough distance between them and the carnage in Detroit and that they hadn’t been followed.

“What? Are we there?” Soares asked as soon as Cole powered off the engines. He tried to sit up and slammed against the restraints, wincing in pain and falling back to shake uncontrollably. His face was pale and his lips cracked.

“No, we’re not there yet,” Cole told him. “But we do need to treat your hands and get you hydrated.”

“There’s some paint in my pack. Spray something on the hull of this beast so they don’t shoot us down. I’d hate to go out like that.” Soares nodded to the bag he’d miraculously kept over his shoulders during their altercation.

Cole used it to paint an R along the outer edge of the hovercar before returning. “Now how about those hands?”

“I’ll be fine,” Soares muttered, convincing neither of them. Cole ignored him, leaving him in the chair as he ransacked the containers in the section behind them until he found clear plastic packets with a blue gel substance inside. He stupidly tried to read the glyphs on the packs until, shaking his head at himself, he pulled the tablet out to run the translation software.

[HEALING SUBSTANCE USED IN TREATMENT OF MINOR WOUNDS]

He stared at the translation, feeling a pang of something for the Tracker he’d left behind to destroy itself for them. Shaking his head again, he grabbed two packets of the blue goo and stuffed them under his arm along with a metal container he’d already checked the contents of and found to be water.

Returning to the bridge, he pulled the small plastic bladder from Soares’ pack and filled it, poking the tube between his teeth after waking him and telling him to sip it until it was gone. Soares didn’t complain, not even when Cole opened the packs of gel and plunged a burned, swollen hand into each one.

Cole couldn’t imagine the pain he was in, especially as they had no more medication to keep the worst of it out, but of all the things he knew about Soares, the man was nothing if not tough.

“How far out are we?” he asked his younger driver through teeth clenched around the rubber tube. Already the fluids and the cold sensation of the gel seemed to be reviving him, even if it was just the temporary reprieve of the burning heat from his hands being taken away for a moment.

“I reckon another two hours,” Cole said after a glance at the tablet wedged in front of him. He drove on in silence, skimming the treetops and weaving left and right to avoid as much of the remnants of the old world as he could.

He took a second to try and fathom how much his world had changed in such a small amount of time, about the people he’d lost and found, about the things he’d learned about himself and his family, and in that same second, he pushed it all aside so he didn’t become overwhelmed and crash the hovercar to kill them both in a pointless ending after everything they’d survived.

“You know, kid…” Soares mumbled, eyes half closed. “I’m not sure I ever told you this, but… but I’m proud of you. Your mom would be too, I think… I know Tom was. He always said you were the fighter, even when you were crawling around on the rug.”

Cole said nothing, concentrating on the view ahead and keeping their speed steady and smooth.

“Your brother, I mean, he’s a scrapper too, but you… you always had that cold-ass streak in you. You’d have made a good Marine, you know that?”

Cole swallowed, unable to find the words. He’d spent weeks trying to get the man to open up about his family and tell him the things he craved the answers for.

“I’m proud of you,” Soares said again before the drinking tube dropped from his mouth and his head lolled.

“Soares…?”

He didn’t move. Didn’t respond. Cole’s chest went tight and cold and he lifted off the throttle ready to dump the hovercar anywhere on the ground it would fit before a noise reached him and calmed him in a heartbeat.

The gentle snore sounded to him like the most satisfied, most peaceful thing he’d ever heard in his life.

Dex

Dex shifted in his cot, finding the thing as lumpy and uncomfortable as sleeping in the forest, which he’d done a few times in his life. Maybe more than a few. He was grateful he no longer needed to pursue humans for miles and days, trying to reach the desperately fleeing Roamers. He tried not to think too long and hard about the things he’d done in his past, but he was aware that his memories were part of the reason for his restless sleep. The other part was the terrible mattress. He punched it a few times, trying to loosen the springs that dug into his back, but gave up, electing to rise early again.

Their camp was even more packed now, with a few extra groups having found them in the last couple days; stragglers from the first west coast destination from Tom’s video feed. He glanced at the bunk above his, seeing Marisol sleeping soundly. She was part of a group he’d been forced to hunt, the ones that had fled from the slavery of the Occupation, and they were all stronger than he was.

They’d done the right thing and fought proudly when the time had come. Her chest rose and fell in even movements, and he watched her for a moment, smiling to himself before finding the exit. The air was crisp this late in the fall, and the leaves around the lake had taken the turn from vibrant green, to red and yellow almost overnight.

The sun was beginning its rise, and he took a deep breath, sending vapors into the cool morning. This was their new temporary home. Back at the lake. The cabins had been repaired over the last couple days, the roofs patched, the decks fixed up. There were still too many people here, but Dex didn’t expect most of them to linger after this week.

There would be better, more suitable places for humanity to start over, but as he walked toward the lakeshore, the pebbles grinding under his boots, he thought this was a good place to begin.

Footsteps distracted him, and Dex peered over his shoulder to see the large Yas coming toward him. “Each day the sun rises, we have a chance for a new beginning,” the Freeborn said, stopping near the water. He crouched, his knees cracking, and scooped up water, running it over his face and long, dark hair.

“I suppose you’re right,” Dex said. He copied the big man and instantly felt better at the touch of the cool water.

“We’re going to have a lot of work to do. It’ll do us well to remember that saying. Let us begin each morning with that mantra.” Yas stood, tying his hair into a long ponytail.

“I can do that. Why are you up so early?” Dex asked him.

“The bed… it’s too…”

“Lumpy?” Dex laughed.

“That’s the word,” Yas said with a smile.

The others hadn’t arrived yet, but Dex was being cautiously optimistic about their return. Monet and the Freeborn girl might have taken the submarine back, so there was a chance no one would see them for a couple weeks yet.

“Where are you going to head when this is done?” Dex asked.

Yas clasped his hands, staring at the lake. “Our people have already decided to remain with the majority. We do not want to isolate ourselves. Our skills of hunting and living off the land will be helpful to the population.”

The majority of their arrivals at camp had originated from work detail under the Occupation, and many of them had never needed to fend for themselves. Dex included. “That’s good of you.”

“And you?” Yas turned the question around on Dex, and he didn’t have a solid answer.

“I haven’t decided.” He had a new lease on life. A new beginning like Yas had mentioned.

“You’ll figure it out.” Yas turned and began walking toward the center structure, where people were starting to gather at.

Dex followed him, spotting Alec Mason. The young man had changed a lot since the first time Dex had gone with him and Tom to the University. He walked with assurance, confidence, and people expected his leadership. He reminded Dex of Tom as he watched him speaking to the group, a few of them laughing at some remark he made.

Dex saw Marisol emerge from the cabin, and he waved to her.

“The celebration will be tonight,” Alec told the gathered people.

“What about the aliens?” someone asked.

“According to our information, we estimate there are only a scattering of them left out there, and we’re setting our plan to destroy the gates tomorrow,” he told them.

“What about you brother? Where’s Cole?” a woman asked.

Alec shifted on his feet nervously. “We haven’t heard from him.” After a brief pause, he said, “But I expect we will very soon.”

Dex appreciated the man’s optimism, but his gut was telling him something bad had happened to the dynamic duo of Soares and Mason. Something howled near the edge of camp, and Dex peered over to see the coyote tromping along the shoreline, looking to the sky.

He heard the sound of the engines before he spotted the hovercar. His heart raced, pounding deeply as Marisol arrived at his side.

Alec reached for his radio. “Whittaker, do you have eyes on this?”

“Dis ship’s got a big letter R sprayed on the hull. I reckon that’s for Reclaimers?” the old man’s voice said through the speaker.

Alec pushed past Dex, walking toward the edge of camp where the others were parked. Dex glanced to the makeshift watchtower on this section of the lakeside cabins, and saw two guns aimed at the ship as it descended.

Alec was jogging now, and Dex followed along, the coyote racing past him.

From here, Dex could recognize the faces. One was a mirror image of Alec Mason’s, only with longer hair, and the second was none other than Captain Soares. The hovercar settled to the dirt patch, kicking up a layer of dust, and the pair clambered out of the ship, landing on the parking pad. Soares’ hands were bandaged, and his eyes were puffy… medicated.

Alec hugged his brother as what seemed like the entire camp arrived behind Dex. Now there was only one group left to return.

Cole

Coming in slowly to make sure no nervous survivor triggered off a weapon at them, Cole turned the hovercar to set it down amidst what looked like a massive ants’ nest. People, so many people, were milling about, carrying boxes of supplies or helping others. Cole couldn’t think of a time he’d ever seen so many humans out in the open at any one time before in his entire life.

He killed the engines in the shadow of a small, tubby cargo alien ship he didn’t recognize and unstrapped to open the doors, shouting a single phrase to grab the attention of everyone there.

“I need a medic,” he bawled, ducking inside to unstrap Soares ready to be taken and treated better than he could manage. People ran in, bundled him out of the way, and gave orders as he was carefully transported.

“What’s this?” a man with an unexpected British accent asked, lifting the half-spilled bags of gel. Cole shrugged.

“The label said it was for treating wounds,” he explained. “He got his hands burned badly a day ago. An alien gun thing did it. I’ve tried to keep his hands cool with water, but I had to keep him hydrated too, so…”

“You did well,” the man said. “And I dare say he’ll keep his hands, thanks to you.”

“He’ll be able to use them again? Properly, I mean?” Cole asked.

“Only time will tell, I’m afraid, but he has a fighting chance now, thanks to you.”

A bark from outside the car caught his attention. Pushing past the man he’d guessed was some kind of doctor, without realizing he was being rude, he barreled outside to see the coyote turning itself inside out as it wagged half its body, dropping to the ground to expose its belly before Cole could reach it.

“Buddy! How you been, boy?”

Another vessel arrived, this one strange, bigger and a little less fearsome than the warships. The camp was abuzz with excitement, and Cole spotted a line of Trackers rush to arrive at the ramp as it lowered.

“Tyrone, call them off!” his brother’s voice said as he arrived at Cole’s side. They hugged briefly, and Cole wanted to give Alec his full attention, but she was there. The Freeborn woman stepped off the ramp, two hundred yards away, and Buddy raced toward her. Lina had lived. He smiled so wide, it hurt. Dozens of people filed from the transport ship, landing with untrusting legs on the grass outside of this encampment.

“Cole, you made it,” Alec’s voice was small.

“Did you have any doubts?” Cole grinned, stalking toward Lina. “Come on, brother. Let’s see what happened.”

Buddy raced ahead, running around Lina’s feet. Their eyes met, and words couldn’t describe what he felt, so he said nothing, stepping fast toward her with two powerful strides. He snatched her up around the waist to lift her and turn her around in the air.

He lowered her until their faces were level and planted a kiss on her lips so hard, he squashed their faces together and made her squeak a little. The magic of the moment was killed by Monet walking nonchalantly past and speaking loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Can’t you two even wait until the war’s over before you start repopulating the Earth? Everyone’s watching!”

Chapter 38

Alec

The cabin was stuffy, and Alec imagined it always would be. He and Izzy had the old greasy windows pried open, the nice autumn breeze blowing in from over the lake. The building was being used to house some of their population after the individual cottages had already been filled, but they’d cleared it out for the purpose of this meeting.

“Will this work?” Cole asked, walking in with Dexter helping him carry a long object. He propped it against the wall and tossed something at Alec. He caught it deftly and studied the white piece of chalk.

Dexter used an old cloth to wipe the board with, dipping it into the bucket of lake water they’d used to clean the widows.

“How’s everyone doing out there?” Izzy asked the ex-Hunter.

“People are happy. Lina and Monet are starting to learn what skills everyone has, and they’re marking them all down as requested,” Dex told them.

It was the first step to see what they were working with over here. Already they had another doctor, who had come up with the Barony group, and more than a few mechanically proficient people. As if on cue, Scott, the ex-police officer, walked into the room, wearing a holstered gun. He was taking charge as the head of their police force, which Alec hoped they wouldn’t need for a long time.

“Are we almost ready?” Scott asked.

“Almost there. Can you find the others and tell them we’re good in five?” Izzy asked, and Scott nodded, leaving the building.

Alec waited until a corner was dry and tested it out, a white streak being left behind on the cracked blackboard. “This will do the trick. Thanks, guys.” He could only draw a few letters, knowing how to read but never having the practice of actually writing. So many things had been lost since the Occupation, but Alec was determined to regain some of them.

He passed Izzy the chalk, since she’d been tutored in more than simple letters. Zhao had kept a library full of history books, and even fictional stories. Alec planned on returning to the site eventually to see if any of them survived. If not, there were countless libraries and schools still standing out there, and they were going to need a lot of those resources as they sought to restore civilization.

Buddy sauntered in, stopped, scratched his ear, and continued over to Cole’s feet, plopping to the floor with a sigh. Alec straightened out a few chairs around their tables, fashioned together to form an even square. Izzy had suggested they not place anyone at the head of the tables, so they were all evenly seated. This wasn’t the time for a power struggle.

“I wish we had…” Dex was cut off as Marisol and Yas came through the open double doors, carrying refreshments. There was a loaf of fresh bread, as well as some steaming coffee. They’d returned to the massive warehouse near Chicago that morning, and when it was clear there was no sign of the Occupation, they broke in, taking all the supplies they could get their hands on. There was enough available to sustain their group for a couple years, and Alec had filled another ship with goods for the Barony, which Dex was going to deliver in a few days’ time.

“You read my mind,” Alec said, taking a slice of bread. The butter was soft, hand churned by the Freeborn that morning.

With a cup of coffee in his grip, Alec took a seat beside Izzy as the others filed in. Whittaker and Becca, their finest pilots, came first, greeting them, followed by Lina and Monet. Scott and Soares entered, Soares smiling despite the severe burns on his hands. Marisol came and sat beside Dex, leaving their resident tech wizard, Tyrone.

“Do you mind closing the door?” Alec asked the drone tech, and he did as bid, taking a seat beside Scott at the table.

Alec caught the look Lina gave Cole as she arrived at his side, and Buddy was quick to come see Lina, hoping for a piece of the fragrant bread. Cole’s usual brooding mood was lightened over the last couple days since returning, and it showed. He understood why, because Alec felt the same thing. Lighter. Free.

“Is this everyone?” Izzy asked.

“Think so,” Cole said.

“All right. Then we should…” A knock on the door interrupted her. Tyrone dashed over and opened it to find Daniel and Sylvie. Izzy waved them in. “Glad you could make it.”

There were two empty seats saved for their partners from oversees, and Alec was grateful for their presence. Sylvie smiled at them, taking one of the chairs, Daniel the other. He whispered something in French to her, and she nodded. It looked like she had a translator.

“Okay. We know there’s a lot to do, and rebuilding our society from a few thousand people will be a challenge, but there’s an elephant in the room, and we’re going to deal with it first,” Izzy said, moving to the chalkboard. She drew three lines on it. “We think there are three enemy ships left. Maybe a handful of hovercars, tanks, and whatever else they have. Judging by the communications we were privy to, there appear to be less than a thousand left.”

“They might be trying to trick us,” Scott said. “You know… pretend to be weak, and strike.”

“I don’t think so,” Monet said. “I agree they are weak. But we need to hit them where it hurts and fast. End their reign.”

Alec waited patiently, listening to the conversation before speaking. They were all entitled to their opinions, and he wanted them to be heard.

Izzy drew ten circles. “These are the gateways. Cole has done us the favor of destroying the one in Detroit by himself.” She drew an X through the first circle. “So we only have nine to deal with. The idea is we break into three teams and deal with them by quadrants. Cole and Soares, you’ll go with Becca and take the one in Mexico, Brazil, and Antarctica. Daniel, you and Sylvie will take the one in Spain, Russia, and China.

“Whittaker will escort Scott and Alec to Zambia, India, and Australia. Bear in mind, we haven’t had eyes on most of these, and we suspect there will be people to rescue. We’ll take Wei to China, and we’re finding people among us that speak any local languages to travel with you, should we make contact with any survivors.” Izzy had the circles labeled now and grouped them into three sections.

“What about the aliens? There will be some of them at the gateways, right?” Yas asked.

“We will attempt to annihilate as many as we find, but this isn’t a search and destroy mission. This is to close the gateways,” Soares said, breaking his silence.

“And you’re sure they’re disabled on the other end?” Daniel asked.

“Damn right, I’m sure.” He frowned at the British man, but didn’t let the glower remain long. “Even if I know their hub is destroyed, they are relentless. They may attempt to rebuild and access Earth again. We cannot let them.”

Sylvie asked something in French and Daniel translated for her. “What was it like?”

Soares nodded to Cole, urging him to tell the story. Alec had heard it, but everyone leaned in, curiosity piqued. Soares kept talking before Cole took over. “We were nothing to them. Just another destination for resources. These gates take a long time to build, and their first fleet comes with the power to overtake us, then rule us as they make us build these monstrosities. By the time they are done, the population is so thin, there’s no room for retaliation. It’s an interesting system, but one that relies on patience by the aliens.

“We don’t have a lot to go on, other than the fact they want to strip us of resources, along with so many other worlds.”

Cole nodded and set his coffee down. Lina rubbed his back as he spoke about the hub they were inside. “We didn’t see that much, only what we were able to without being noticed. If I had to guess, I’d say there were dozens, maybe hundreds of access points in that warehouse hub alone. It was larger than any facility I’ve ever seen. If we have ten gates, that means there are so many more worlds out there that have fallen prey to them.”

“Let’s hope that our destroying the hub helped some of the other Occupied planets,” Alec said, and the others nodded along. “Okay, so it’s settled. The gates are dealt with right away, and then…”

“We have to deal with the aliens,” Monet said.

“We know that, but they will die off. Doctor Parvati says they will perish within two months, by her estimation.” Alec thought of the now dead alien they’d kept in captivity.

“What if they signal home, what if…” Monet started, but Izzy cut her off.

“We can’t control that, but I think we need to stay vigilant for the next few months. Rescue anyone we can find, and soon they will no longer be able to survive,” she told them.

“There will be misters out there,” Marisol said, drawing attention to herself.

Dex shook his head. “Fan said they go through one a week. Even if there were a thousand of them, they’d need fifty-two thousand devices to last the year. They’re going to be sick very shortly and die off. I say let ‘em suffer. Why rush their suffering?”

Alec agreed, but it didn’t sit right. “If we find them, we kill the aliens. We’ll do them a favor and exterminate them outright, instead of the cruel slavery they forced upon us.” He sat up straight, and no one argued with his point.

“Tyrone, what information did you have?” Izzy asked the man in the baseball cap. He remained seated, but pulled a couple tablets from a backpack, sliding one to Daniel and the other to Alec, who picked it up, looking at the blank screen.

Tyrone took a third out and tapped it to life. “We have a way to communicate, and I’m working on getting more of these done. The aliens actually created a complex satellite network, which I’ve now been able to block them out from. We have our very own private and secure lines, and we’re going to be able to send information and discuss progress around the world. It’s nothing like before, but it’s a start.” The guy smiled, and Alec was glad they’d decided to infiltrate the Atlanta drone network building rather than destroy it when they had the chance. Tyrone was showing immense value.

“This is better than a start. This is amazing.” Daniel used it to send a message to Alec, who grinned as it blinked over his screen.

The Occupation is over.

Alec flipped it for the others to read. “Are we all on the same page?” he asked their eager group.

“Damn right we are,” Dex said.

Everyone had their tasks, and the groups weren’t going to waste time. They were heading out right away, but Alec stopped Cole before he left, and Soares watched them from the doorway. “Hold on, Cole.”

The rest departed, leaving the brothers inside alone. They’d had some time together since Cole returned, but not as much as Alec would have liked. “I need to see where your head’s at.”

Cole shrugged, giving Alec a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

“I know you. Well, not really, but I think I know you well enough to understand you.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you hate crowds. You prefer to be in the wilderness with a coyote for a pet…”

“That was by accident,” Cole said with a sideways grin.

“You know what I’m saying.”

“You’re worried that after we blow up some gates, I’m going to come to camp, and wander around for a few days, maybe a couple weeks, and fade into the wild where I’m more comfortable, is that it?” Cole asked.

Alec was impressed. “That’s exactly what I’m wondering.”

“You seem to have this idea in your head that we can rule side by side and take over where Tom left off. Our father was a politician, and it’s in our blood, blah blah blah, but man, that’s not for me,” Cole said.

“So you will leave? After it’s done?” Alec hated the way the conversation was heading.

“No.” This caught Alec off guard. “I’m not going anywhere. Lina wants to stay, and so do I. We can help things, and after spending my entire damned life alone out there, running away from metal monsters, it’s time to settle down. Where better than with my new brother and friends?” The last word had a lift to it, like the very concept shocked him.

Alec clasped his brother on the arm, and smiled wide. “Good to hear it. Now let’s go reclaim our world.”

Chapter 39

Cole

“We should be down there, you know,” Soares grumbled, standing beside Cole on the bridge of the largest alien ship they currently possessed.

“You’re in no condition to fight, General,” he answered, reminding Soares that his hands were still bandaged and useless but mollifying that harsh truth by awarding him the newly bestowed title. “And besides, your place isn’t on the front line anymore.”

Soares grumbled again, muttering darkly under his breath but loud enough for Cole to make out a few choice words.

“Everyone’s in position, ready for your go,” a woman said, turning in her seat, which was a high-backed office type bolted to the deck in place of the alien chair it replaced.

Soares huffed through his nose and glared at Cole. “She ain’t talking to me,” he said with evident amusement. Cole tried not to return the glowering look, as uncomfortable as he felt being revered by their troops like he and Alec were some kind of joint messiah risen again to lead them to redemption.

“On your command, General,” he said, deferring control of the operation to Soares as the infinitely more qualified man for the job.

“Order the advance. All weapons are a go,” he said, sounding as if he took no enjoyment from the commencement of another crushing defeat coming to the aliens. Smaller ships surged ahead, weapons firing. Three vessels took off from the ground cleared in the rainforest, two taking fire before they could turn to fly away as the lead ships in the human advance switched their aim without requiring orders.

The third craft, the one that took off last and avoided the initial salvos that dropped its companions, managed to turn south and power up to stretch out a short lead before incoming fire from an oblique angle tore into it to tumble the ungainly hull to the ground.

“All ships target the Gateway,” Soares ordered, looking ahead but holding one bandaged hand out toward the woman in charge of communicating his orders to their small, liberated fleet.

They watched as the fire converged on the inert ring, hearing the whoops of wild elation come through their radios as the device fell to the ground in shattered pieces.

“Hold position,” Soares instructed. “Signal the support group to move in and secure the area. Takes us to objective Bravo.” He looked at Cole as the orders were relayed, feeling the lurching sensation under their feet as the ship moved forward to fly south.

Their reconnaissance team reported no survivors at the Mexico site, hence the mass bombardment with no risk of killing humans. The support group, comprised more of the willing than of the capable in Soares’ potentially unfair assessment, would clean up the site and dispatch any remaining aliens before salvaging as much of their technology left behind as possible.

They were facing uncertain times, even if they could defeat the dwindling alien forces left on the planet and emerging onto the surface without fear of death or imprisonment would require many of them to learn new skills.

Already the Reclaimers, Roamers, and Freeborn were busy exchanging methods and their own unique brands of technology. All of that, combined with the alien tech, was providing them with new discoveries almost daily.

“Helm, what’s our ETA?” Soares asked, maneuvering into his seat and wincing as he moved.

“Are you okay?” Cole muttered, bending his head closer so the others couldn’t hear his concern. “Is it your hands?”

“You’re not my mother, kid,” Soares muttered back. “And I’m not in pain. I can't believe I sounded like the Captain of the god damn Starship Enterprise just then.”

“Starship… Enterpr—”

“Forget it,” Soares said with a dismissive wave, earning an actual wince of pain as he moved his healing hand too quickly.

“ETA two hours, give or take,” Becca reported from the primary pilot’s seat.

“Give or take what?” Cole asked.

“Traffic,” the older woman on the communications station answered. “And if Grandpa here’s likening himself to Kirk, then I guess that makes me Uhura.” She shot Soares a wink to go with the wry smile.

“That’s General Grandpa to you,” he answered. Cole stood straight and looked between the two of them before throwing his arms up lazily in exasperation.

“I swear, I have no freaking idea what you old people are talking about some days.”

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Soares said as he shifted in his chair to get comfortable. “Now this old person’s gonna take a nap before we reach Brazil. That okay with you, hotshot?”

“Yes sir, General Soares sir,” Cole said, opting to go with an elaborate bow in place of the sarcastic salute Soares was no doubt expecting.

* * *

“Signal all ships to stop,” Cole announced, having been warned of their imminent arrival at the next Gateway site. He was surprised to find two others on the same continent so close together, but then he figured they’d been built where the most wanted materials were to be found. He also thought back to a time not so long before when he was considering heading for Mexico in search of the rumor that there were no aliens or Hunters down there.

“Fighter groups to flanking positions, all eyes on the sky in case they have the guts for a fight,” Soares added, seemingly unbothered about his authority being usurped by the young man he felt an intense, burning pride for every time he looked at him being all… leadery.

“Lower us to deployment altitude,” Cole ordered their pilot, repeating the words he’d heard used before and making sure he understood their full meaning before repeating the phrase. “Deploy all Tracker drones.”

“Deploying all Trackers, affirmative,” a male voice answered from another station behind him. Soares rested an elbow on Cole’s shoulder, no doubt in place of a hand that, by rights, he should still be resting in a hospital bed somewhere. It was bad enough that he’d lost sensation in part of his left hand and the smallest digit from his right, but he was adamant with the doctors that he was getting back to work.

“You have come far, my young Padawan,” Soares intoned theatrically. Cole smiled at him, mostly in confusion but partly because he was enjoying this new, relaxed version of the brooding man.

“Dude, keep mixing your metaphors like that and we will fall out. Sir,” the woman working their communications drawled at him.

“These kids don’t get either anyway, so I guess I’m good to keep on doing it.” Soares smiled at her before a voice interrupted their moment.

“Drone feeds online, patching to the viewscreen now.”

The big window ahead of them went partially dark and showed fast-moving footage of the dense jungle in close up. Cole watched, mesmerized for a moment about what life must be like for Buddy if he saw the world from that perspective. He still couldn’t shake the guilt he felt over his Tracker being destroyed, even though logic told him it was just a machine.

And yet, a part of him felt the sting of loss and responsibility, which he could only make up for that with his actions.

“First wave approaching target location,” he was told. He didn’t acknowledge or turn his attention from the screen as he watched the dense foliage melt away as the drone transmitting its footage burst into the clearing to attract fire from the enemy immediately.

The image on the screen shook concussively until Soares asked for an audio feed to go with it.

“Sorry, sir, no audio. Only what you can see.”

He grunted at the answer, but Cole gave no response as he stared at the screen. The shaking coincided with the air in the middle of the display distorting for a fraction of a second until he realized it was the drone firing its own weapon back at the alien as it crossed the open ground to cut the distance.

The footage froze, flickered twice, then the screen went black.

“Take us up,” Cole demanded, staring at the monitor impatiently until another perspective came into blurry focus. It took him a few seconds to realize he was watching the same scene from a different angle of the clearing in the forest, and the new drone was sprinting hard at the flanks of the alien position before leaping into the air to slam into one.

Cole fought his body’s urge to flinch as the targeted alien turned at the last second to show a hideous mask of terror before the sky and the ground tumbled over each other twice. They watched in silence as the reprogrammed Trackers stormed the facility and overwhelmed the defenders, forcing a group of them to retreat to a ship and leave three of the lanky creatures behind to protect their retreat.

“Ready weapons,” Soares said. “I want those bastards blown outta the sky.”

Orders were relayed and weapons hammered shots out to drop the escape attempt back to the ground.

“Sir?” the communications operator said, pulling the earpiece aside as she turned to face Soares and Cole without making it clear which one she was talking to. “Second squad’s reporting human prisoners.”

“Order all drones to convene on that location and defend the people,” Soares barked, adding, “Authorize landing of ground troops. I want those people rescued and onboard as soon as possible.”

The battle was one-sided and over quickly. The few aliens able to defend themselves were overwhelmed fast, and a grim discovery of dead and dying aliens in what passed for their medical bay showed how successful and unusually cruel their attack on the source of the misters truly was.

Safely onboard their ships with another liberated craft adding to their fleet, Soares ordered them to fly out to a safe distance before turning and firing their guns on the inert gateway.

They spent the next ten minutes rushing the survivors on board, who were completely panicked before realizing they were being rescued. Cole heard someone say there were seventy of them, and he set a grim smile at the news.

“Takes us home, helm,” Soares said tiredly as he took his seat on the bridge again.

“Sir, incoming call from the base,” he was told. He picked up the offered headset, nodding along as he listened before signing off and handing back the set.

Cole’s face was expectant, and seeing it, Soares seemed to remember himself, filling in the bridge crew on the news.

“Good news from Africa,” he said. “That’s the last gateway we needed confirmation of.”

Chapter 40

Dex

The ship lowered at the outskirts of the Barony, and Dex couldn’t stop staring at the place through the viewscreen. Even from here, it was evident this was a real home, an established colony.

“What do you think?” Marisol asked.

“I think we might want to take a few days here before heading back.” Dex smiled at Becca as she rose from the modified alien pilot’s seat.

Becca had returned from the mission to destroy the gates a couple days earlier, and Dex was still recovering from the celebration that ensued. Someone had managed to find an old cache of aged wine from California stored in a nearby town, and the bonfire party to commemorate their liberation was one for the books.

“You guys gonna help with the cargo?” Becca asked, walking toward the exit. The ship had stores from the Chicago facility: rice, water, oats, wheat, even some animals they’d rounded up from massive farmland the humans had tended to in Kentucky. Dex had driven by them years ago, and to see them now, the animals grazing in the fields, the chickens scraping by somehow, showed him how resilient creatures could be.

Dex couldn’t help but smile these days, and it was a strange sensation. Their lives had been flipped upside down. Only a few short weeks ago, he’d been hunting Trent James, and now he was in England’s northern territory at a castle with a couple thousand people living around it.

Marisol appeared to read his mind, and she grabbed for his hand with hers, whispering in his ear, “It’s okay to feel this way.”

He nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Let’s unload this. I’ve never been to England before. Might be nice to do some sightseeing.”

Marisol let go as the large ramp lowered, revealing ten healthy young men, ready with hand carts and pallet jacks. They were prepared for this.

The smell of fresh roasting meat carried through the air as smoke climbed into the sky from a few outdoor firepits. The castle was the focus of the entire area, and Dex caught the glint of sunlight off the hovering Seeker drones protecting the Barony. He glanced behind the ship to see a Tracker on guard.

“Dexter!” Daniel’s voice called. He was being followed by a beautiful woman in a long colorful dress, a small child clinging to her like a barnacle.

“Dan. Good to see you,” Dex told the man. Marisol greeted the woman and crouched near the boy.

“Who is this sweetie?” Marisol asked.

Daniel answered. “This is Ava and her son Benji. She’s… the Queen here.”

“Enough with that… I’m no Queen. I never liked the fact that the people gave Jack that title, and he didn’t either. I’m only Ava, and I’m one of the leaders here at the Barony, but only until Daniel accepts the role,” she said. Her eyes were dark brown, and Dex noted the sadness behind them.

“I’m sorry about your husband. I saw what he did in Norway. We couldn’t have won without his ingenuity,” Dex told her.

Benji appeared to warm up to Marisol, and he walked over to her, tugging on her shirt. Marisol’s hair was tied in a braid today, and she wore durable jeans and a white t-shirt. They’d raided the storage facility for clothing too, and some older seamstresses at the Lake had begun altering the utilitarian garb of the workers into something more wearable.

“What is it, Benji?” Ava asked.

“Where’s your hand?” the boy asked with the innocence only a child could muster.

Marisol didn’t hesitate. “It paid for my freedom.”

“Oh. Did it hurt?” Benji asked.

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “It did, but it was worth it.”

“Like how my daddy helped us.”

“That’s right.” Ava set a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Come on. My team can unload the goods. Let me show you around.”

Ava took them on a tour, first showing them through the town, which was comprised of a main street. They even had businesses established, with places to eat eggs in the morning and soup for lunch. Another had items people could exchange, another clothing made from furs and fabric rolls lined the rear of the building.

“This is…” Marisol ran her fingers over a dress.

“How were you able to survive like this?” Dex asked Ava.

“We didn’t live in fear. Jack wouldn’t have it. He brought us here to the lake he used to fish with his father years before the invasion. It was so isolated that when he determined it was outside the Occupation’s radar, he moved us all here. We started as a group of two hundred, and we lost a lot on the way, gaining others,” Ava told them as they walked toward the castle. The tower was tall, with windows giving a view of the land and inhabitants.

Marisol pointed to a Seeker hovering twenty feet overhead. “And the drones?”

“Jack also wanted to have protection, so he took a team to London. The aliens had a port there, a ship on call in the early years. We attacked and took the ship. The drones came with it, and taking the second ship a couple months later was easier.” She stopped at the gate, two guards opening the heavy iron portcullis at once.

“I had no idea there was so much resistance,” Marisol said. “If only we could have contacted one another sooner.”

“What of you?” Ava asked the Roamer woman.

“Not much to say. Worked as a slave most of my life, and when my mother finally tracked me down, she broke me out of the fields.” She lifted her arm, which ended at the wrist. “We were together at least. Had a large group in Chicago.”

They entered the castle grounds, Dex impressed with how well maintained it was. After years of seeing nothing but overgrown roads and towns, this felt like something real, tangible. He slowed, Marisol keeping pace. “What if we stay here?” he asked.

“Stay?”

“You see the way they look at me in the States. Plus, didn’t you tell me the other day you could use a change of scenery?” Dex asked, knowing the others only reminded her of Renata, the mom she’d lost in the battle of Norway.

“You’re right.”

Dex grinned as they continued toward the castle. Green vines clung to the side of the stone walls, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen a more beautiful building. Not after so many years of decrepit rotted roof bungalows in the small towns he’d chased people through. This felt like a dream. “I’ve always wanted to build my own place.”

“You do that, and I’ll watch.” Marisol laughed, following Ava through the castle’s front entrance, and Dex took a moment to himself on the steps. He stared at the sky, no longer fearful of an attack or retaliation. Clouds moved above, and he wondered if he’d ever simply stared at them in his adult life. He’d been through a lot… everyone had, but maybe, just maybe there was a life for him out there after all.

“You coming, Dex?” Marisol called.

He walked inside to join her.

Fan

America. He’d only heard the name like some magical place from a fairy tale. Now, being here, it was far less advanced and desirable than he’d expected. He was sharing a cottage with the rest of the Shanghai workers they’d returned for and rescued. It was chilly outside, and he pulled his jacket tight around his chest.

Biyu was gone, but she’d done her part to ensure their success, and he figured she’d consider it a fair bargain. It didn’t help ease the pain in his chest over the loss.

The camp had expanded so quickly, and today, half of the group was leaving. Fan elected to go with them toward a city named Portland. He wasn’t sure what to expect there, but he was told it was near the ocean, and they’d have a fresh start.

Already, he was picking up a few of their words, and Wei decided to go with him. He barely knew the old man, but after going through what they had, he felt a connection to the translator, and it would be nice to be near someone from his previous posting.

The ships were being filled with supplies, and people, and Fan took one last look at the lake, a mist rising from it in the early morning air. He had no idea what was to come, but he was excited for it. A new start. A new life.

Fan walked onto the hovercar, assisting Wei on board, and the pair sat on a bench along the outer hull. Fan was ready for this next step and was eager to visit the ground level of their new city.

The hovercar rose, and the woman pilot said something in English he didn’t understand. It didn’t matter. Fan smiled as they lifted over the treetops, moving west from the rising sun.

Sylvie

“It’s so strange being here, isn’t it?” Maxime asked as they rummaged through their old village. It appeared much the same, but it was bereft of people and noise. Birds chirped, and insects chittered lightly, but gone were the sounds of working, the smells of cooking. She didn’t like the carcass of their homestead.

“I’ll be happy to leave,” Sylvie said. Their hovercar sat parked in a clearing near the start of town, powered down with a couple Trackers perched on it. She didn’t expect trouble, but they weren’t completely out of the woods yet. Not until every alien took their dying breath. “Thanks for coming.”

Max frowned, as if the comment offended him. “We’re a team.”

“That’s right, we are. And you killed more than me in that valley, didn’t you?” She knew he’d been keeping count, but of course so had she.

They came upon Gabriel’s home, and Sylvie paused outside of it. He’d died on the way to Spain, doing what he’d always wanted to: fighting back. She’d stopped him from going on the offensive so many times, but in the end, it had worked out… for some of them.

“Give me a sec,” Max told her, and he jogged away, heading for the small cabin he’d shared with a friend.

She headed to her own place, a tiny single-room abode, but it had been hers. Amidst all the chaos, this was her sanctuary. A stone fireplace sat in the corner, gray ashes piles in the uncleaned hearth. She was only here for one reason. The book sat by her nightstand, and she took the leather-bound volume of poetry Adam had retrieved for her before being killed by the Tracker a few years ago.

She clutched it to her chest, trying to picture the man, but barely able. She could still smell him and recalled how it felt to run her hands through his thick dark hair. And how he made her feel.

“Sylvie?” Max called, and she wiped a single tear from her cheek.

“We did it, Adam. We did it.” She closed her door, book firm in her grip, and headed back for the hovercar. Their people were all starting over in Nice, and Sylvie was glad for the fresh start. She slid the book into her pack, beside the tablet that allowed her to reach the US bases, along with the Barony, and now a group in Australia.

The hovercar fired up at the first attempt and Maxime guided them up and toward their final destination.

Lina

She didn’t doubt for a second that she was taking advantage of both her and Cole’s position. There was no way anyone could convince the leadership to send one of their most prized and valuable resources so far from home on a personal errand, but people had started doing things like that recently; things for themselves, to make them happy.

Cole had asked, but when Lina hadn’t told him and smiled playfully, telling him that it was a surprise and that he should be patient. Four months after the end of the Occupation, and he was finally beginning to settle into some routine.

“Trust me,” she assured him, nuzzling his nose with hers and forcing a reluctant smile to appear on his face. “This’ll change your life.”

After three days under water, Cole already felt as though his life was irreversibly changed. Being in a metal tube underneath the sea—something he hadn’t seen much in his life in spite of the great distances he’d covered—was so dark and claustrophobic to him, that he wasn’t enjoying himself. He had no real love for mechanics and machines, so learning how the unnatural boat stayed at the correct depths and turned left or right on command was of no major interest for him, and he spent the time mostly lying on a cot that was both too short and too narrow to comfortably sleep on with a book or a tablet in his hands.

The devices were useless, as the signal seemed incapable of penetrating the submarine and the hundred feet of water between them and the air above, but he learned a distracting trick from Soares during the older man’s recovery. The tablets had a hidden subfolder that held some basic video games, and Cole had grown obsessed with one that required him to build gun and rocket towers to stop the aliens from marching to his gates and breaking inside.

He lost more games than he won, but he satisfied himself that in real life the walls had held, even if the metaphorical health bar on his species was flashing red, and the aliens had died.

He’d avoided joining Lina on whatever it was they were doing, instead flying off to every corner of the continent they controlled to mop up the last weak spots of enemy resistance.

“We’re here,” Lina said from the open door of their cabin, startling him from the passage he was engrossed in. He snapped the book shut and sat up to follow her, until she burst his bubble to say that the boredom he was living with would last a few more hours.

“We have to wait a while longer,” she said, seeing the spark of annoyance flash over his features. “But it’ll be worth it, I promise.”

Cole believed her, or at least believed that she believed it, and waited impatiently until she declared it was time.

He joined her in the main control room where the bearded man in charge, introduced to him as Gerard, smiled at him like he knew a private joke.

“All ahead stop,” he said, waiting for his orders to be repeated back to him.

“All compartments rigged for surface,” another man said. Gerard’s eyes fluttered for the briefest of moments like he was fighting the urge to correct the man on something, but seemed to hold his nerve.

“Take us up,” he said, gesturing for Lina to lead the way up a ladder.

The sudden blast of fresh air was heaven to Cole, even if he couldn’t see a thing in any direction other than the narrow tube he’d just climbed out of.

The surface of the sub was wet, something that didn’t surprise him logically, but he was still very wary of it, and the total darkness was broken only by the huge expanse of stars shining so brightly in the never-ending sky. It instantly cleared his habitual dark mood and something resembling a child-like awe crept in.

“It’s… beautiful,” he said, finally understanding what she wanted to show him. She laid out a couple of blankets to protect their bodies from the cold, wet metal of the hull and encouraged him to sit beside her. He did, fidgeting restlessly, and tried to start more than one conversation before her silence infected him with calm.

They sat together, watching the incredible expanse of open water lighten until the distant gray horizon grew almost imperceptibly to create a clear demarcation between sky and sea. It eventually swelled with a glow until a flash of orange burst over the edge of the world to bathe them in a weak light that seemed to intensify until he imagined he could feel the warmth of it tickling the skin of his face.

“Do you see why I wanted to show you this now?” she asked him. He couldn’t speak, only nod with his eyes fixed on the rising sun that he’d seen so many times before but never, ever like this.

“I wanted to remind you how beautiful it all is, even after everything.” He didn’t answer, and the two of them just sat huddled together on the exposed deck of some great war machine created by the past for a future that never happened.

“We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors, but borrow it from our children,” she intoned gently, surprising him with her words.

He turned to look at her, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind her words.

“We do not inherit the Earth from our ancestors,” she said again, more gently this time as she slipped a hand to her belly, “but borrow it from our children.”

Cole’s mouth dropped open with a faint popping sound. His eyes began to fill with tears, but for the first time in his life, they were tears of happiness. Of joy. Of hope.

They had fought so hard, sacrificed so much to reclaim their world from the invaders, and now they had the chance to give that world to a new generation who didn’t need to know their suffering.

Chapter 41

Alec

One Year Later

The sounds of machinery clanging away woke Alec from a sound sleep. His arm was lazily draped over his wife, and she groaned, rubbing her eyes. “What time is it?” Izzy asked.

Alec glanced at the window, where light was seeping through the blinds. “It’s light out…so at least seven.”

“We slept in, and today of all days.” Izzy shoved the blankets aside and rose from the bed before Alec could even consider leaving the warmth behind.

“It’s fine. We have lots of time.” Alec rose, moving for the window. He pulled the coverings open and smiled at the sight below. They were at the outer edge of Norfolk, Nebraska, and from here, he spotted the construction sites in full production. Homes were being fixed inside the town, and new structures were being erected near the endless farmland, like the house Alec and Izzy lived in.

The alien mining equipment had been salvaged, repurposed by the mechanics and engineers for construction purposes. They were still using the manufacturing plants in Detroit to build items, retooling the production lines to suit their needs. Alec hadn’t stepped foot on the grounds there yet. It was too soon, the wounds too fresh.

Izzy had a quick shower, and Alec marveled at the fact that they had hot water. The room steamed up as he entered it, and he rubbed the fog off the mirror. He was older, cheeks fuller, and he’d decided to grow a beard. Cole still made fun of it, but Izzy liked it, and that was all that mattered.

“Have you heard from Dexter lately?” Izzy asked from the shower.

“Last week. Didn’t I mention it?”

“Nope. To be fair, we’ve been a little busy. How are things at the Barony?”

“Good. He’s visited the other cities in Europe now. Can you believe there are five? That’s over twenty thousand people over there.” Alec stepped to the side as Izzy exited the shower, a towel wrapped around her. The water was still running, and he stepped in, trying to get used to the warm water after so many years without.

“Incredible. That’s over one hundred thousand on Earth, isn’t it?” she asked.

It didn’t sound like much, judging by the previous population, but Alec was confident it was somewhere to start. “Just a little over.”

He finished a quick shower, and soon they were dressed, ready for the day. Someone knocked on their door, and Alec answered it, finding Soares there, wearing a suit jacket and tie. Alec wore an old tie, at Izzy’s request, and it felt like he was being strangled.

“Here you go.” Soares pushed a bag at him with a smile, and Alec opened it to find a jacket. “I guessed your size, but should be close.”

He slid it on and found it was almost a perfect fit. “Thanks. Have you seen Cole?”

“You know your brother. He’s already at the ship waiting for you. Probably woke up with the roosters for a perimeter check with that damned coyote he still thinks is his dog,” Soares said, unable to hide his amusement.

“Let’s find out,” Izzy said. She was wearing a dress, something so impractical in their new daily routines. It was black, respectful for the reason of their excursion. Alec and she had been so busy here, they hadn’t left Norfolk in months. It was going to be nice to get a day away.

They left their home, walking through the warm late summer morning, and as expected, they found Cole and Lina waiting near the hovercar. Cole had a matching suit jacket on, but he’d refused the tie. His hair was longer, but it was clear Lina had made him clean and comb it at least. Izzy walked over to him and plucked a twig from his jacket sleeve. “Missed some.”

“Can I help it if Buddy caught scent of a rabbit and led me on a wild goose chase?” Cole asked with a lopsided grin.

Alec clapped his brother on the arm. “Good to see you. You should spend more time in town.”

Cole shrugged it off. “Lina likes the country. Besides, who can hunt with all this noise?”

Alec peered at Lina, who rolled her eyes and came over to hug them. Her belly protruded from her loose summer dress, showing every one of her eight months of pregnancy. “How’s things?” Alec asked his sister-in-law, who ran a hand over her own stomach.

“Very well. The garden gave a great yield, and we have the baby’s room ready,” she told them.

“I still can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle,” Alec said, shaking his head.

“When’s your turn?” Cole asked Izzy.

She only laughed, and they filed onto the hovercar.

“Hold up!” Monet shouted, running across the field from the apartment block toward them.

“Decided to sleep in?” Lina asked her.

“Something like that,” she replied. “We about ready to do this?”

Soares took the pilot’s chair, the shiny skin of his healed hands stretching over the controls, and soon they were moving toward Colorado. They chatted as well as they could over the loud engines, about little things, things that didn’t really matter. It was refreshing to be able to focus on the daily drama, not the life-changing constant battles with the Occupation.

Alec continued to wake nearly every day expecting to be hunted down, but the fear was slowly dissipating. Eventually, he hoped it would be but an afterthought. The last of the aliens had died off, at least according to the reports from around the world’s settlements. Just under a year. Better than he could have hoped.

The hovercar landed outside of Cripple Creek, near the mountain ridge where the Reclaimers base had been tucked under thousands of tons of rock. Most of it was destroyed now, but there was one thing remaining there they all needed to visit. They promised it would be tradition, no matter what, and Alec was happy to be starting it off with his family.

Another hovercar approached as they climbed off theirs, and Alec noticed how Cole instantly reached for the rifle he always had near him.

“It’s the Hunter!” Soares called over the loud thrusters, and Alec spotted Dex’s dark hair and the familiar form of Marisol beside him. The two had grown inseparable. It was heartening how people could meet in a time of tragedy and create something from nothing.

Dex hopped out, looking as uncomfortable as one could in a tie and leather jacket. Marisol ran over, hugging the girls, and she gave Cole, Alec, and Soares a kiss on the cheek.

“You came,” Cole said curtly.

“Sorry I didn’t reply. I…” Dex stared at the ground.

“He wanted to, just didn’t know if it was proper,” Marisol answered for him.

Soares set a hand on Dex’s shoulder, and they met gazes. “We asked you because he liked you. You were there at the end, and we understand the pain it caused you. Tom would want you here, and we want you here.”

Dex nodded, peering toward the monument. “I haven’t seen it before.”

They all turned to see the gravestone. It was a massive marker, with his full name, date of birth and death inscribed. Alec walked over to it, setting a hand on the cool stone.

Cole was beside him, staring at the grave. “He’d like this.”

Alec nodded, feeling the tears fall from the mere notion of Tom seeing them reunited one year after his death, celebrating their freedom, and the man who made it happen.

“Your uncle was a great man. His vision for the future was never blinded by the setbacks we faced each day. He had a sole mission, and even though it took him twenty-five years, he managed to succeed. For an often impatient man, he was the most patient I’ve ever come across,” Soares said, his words quiet but powerful.

Soares looked to Cole, who cleared his throat before speaking. “I met Tom when I was a young man. He taught me how to care for myself, always let me suffer enough to know I could handle it, and without his teachings, I never would have made it this far.” He stepped to the side, making way for Alec.

That was his brother. Short and to the point. “Tom came to Detroit and I instantly felt like I knew him. I’d…” he stared at the ground and cleared his throat, “I’d wanted to end it before I met him. Things were bad, really bad, and if he hadn't shown up at the right time, I wouldn’t be here with you today. He taught me to trust myself, and that there could be a brighter tomorrow, even if I didn’t know how. He showed me compassion, and empathy, while fueling my distrust of the Occupation. If I didn’t know better, Tom made every move on purpose, creating a team he thought could finish the task.

“I spent a little time with him during those last few weeks of his life, and I could see it in his eyes. His determination, his demand for winning. Well, Uncle Tom, we did it. We beat them. For you. For our parents, and for everyone else that isn’t standing on this Earth any longer.” Izzy set a hand on his shoulder, and Alec stared at the grave marker.

“They might return,” Monet said softly.

“Tyrone said the ships took thirty of our years to arrive on their last flight. That means we have twenty-nine to be ready for them, but I don’t think they’re coming,” Izzy told the group.

Dex crossed his arms over his chest. “What makes you say that?”

“Because Cole told us something. They have countless worlds under Occupation. They are all about resources, and they tried here and failed. They lost. Returning would be a waste of resources,” Izzy said. She and Alec had this discussion far too often, but it was good for the rest of them to hear it.

Dex chuckled. “You’re forgetting something.”

“What’s that?” Lina asked.

“Sometimes revenge supersedes common sense,” Dex said.

“Tom would tell us to live for today, but plan for tomorrow. And that’s just what we’ll do.” Alec turned to his friends, and they all nodded in agreement.

As everyone chatted about their new lives, Alec smiled, remembering those they’d lost along the way. He also chose to live in the moment. Because this was their moment.

The Occupation was over.

It was time to start again.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Thank you for reading Reclamation, book three in RISE.

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About Nathan

Nathan Hystad is the best-selling author of The Event. He writes about alien invasion, first contact, colonization, and everything else he devoured growing up. He's had hundreds of thousands of copies sold and read, and loves the fact he's been able to reach so many amazing readers with his stories.

Keep up to date with Nathan’s new releases by signing up for his Newsletter at nathanhystad.com

Nathan’s books are also available on Audible!

About Devon

Devon is from the UK, having lived in many places until finally settling in the Midlands. His career in public services started in his teens and has provided a wealth of experiences, both good and some very bad, which form the basis of the book ideas that cause regular insomnia.

He first started reading for fun as an adult, having tried his hardest to avoid anything resembling academia growing up, and at that point the world became a far bigger place. He has been reading, at least one book at a time, ever since.

Keep up to date with Nathan’s new releases by signing up for his Newsletter at devoncford.com

Devon’s books are also available on Audible!