Critical Path

The irony of the situation dawned on Charlie. The very people who organized the killing of his family, friends and millions of others around the planet were now asking for his assistance. Wanting him to sacrifice himself for their freedom. He felt a sudden surge of anger. “Do you really expect me to help after what they did?” Charlie pointed at the two aliens. “They can die along with us. At least I’ll die having the comfort of knowing the creatures who terrorized Earth will be roasted.”

Aimee stood and took a step back. She glared at Charlie with her piercing blue eyes. “If you refuse to help, you will die in the arena. Augustus may kill you first. He’s already told me that he plans to have your head on a spike displayed outside the tavern.”

By helping the local croatoans—assuming all this wasn’t bullshit—he would at least ensure Denver and the others’ survival. But the thought of working with Hagellan sickened him. Mike would have to be part of the proposed plan. Charlie knew he’d been working on a spare bomb in case the first one malfunctioned. Charlie didn’t want to risk exposing his old friend to the danger of being around aliens or Augustus, but he couldn’t let everyone die. He needed time to think things over. The revelations were too big to come up with a snap decision.

“Will you accept the mission, or do you want to be hacked to death by him?” Aimee said, pointing at Baliska.

“I’ve beaten it once already, so that doesn’t scare me. I need some time. How long have I got?”

“I’ll be back in two hours. If you decide to help, you’ll leave this place with me. If you don’t, well…”

Charlie stood and brushed himself down. “Where does Augustus fit into all of this?”

Aimee rolled her eyes. The mention of Augustus seemed to irritate her. “He doesn’t know about the planet destroyer or that Hagellan survived. Augustus is a schemer and is more trouble than he’s worth. But he kept quiet about this place. Hagellan is furious that Augustus never informed him about Unity. We can’t trust him to be a part of our plan.”

“Why don’t you just kill him?”

“Augustus has his uses. He knows about administration and is gaining popularity because of his ludus. We need to be inclusive here, which means putting up with him—for now. If I went around killing everyone I didn’t like, our society would quickly fall apart.”

“If I agree, and I haven’t decided yet, I assume you wouldn’t let me out of your sight. What’s to stop him sending a couple of goons after me?”

Aimee swished her hand as if brushing away a fly. “I run this town. If I say you’re not to be touched, you won’t be.”

She walked out of the cell.

“Wait,” Charlie said. “Can you bring me some root?”

“I’ll think about it,” she said over her shoulder.

The door slammed shut. Charlie crouched and scraped two circles in the dirt, denoting two planets. He moved his finger from one to the other and drew a cross through the second. Baliska seemed to understand. It reached over and scraped a cross through the first.

He sat back against the wall with his head in his hands. It didn’t matter which way Charlie looked at Aimee’s suggestion. If he refused her offer, anyone left alive who he loved or cared for would end up being destroyed.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Denver sipped the hot tea from a metal cup. The campfire crackled, sending glowing sparks spiraling up through the cool morning air. His backside and legs were getting cold from sitting on a fallen tree, its log still damp from the morning dew.

The alien hunter tied to the tree stared on silently, blinking its large black eyes. Like Venrick, this one wore the adapted breathing system with the portable tanks of root-air on its back.

“Good job, Khan,” Denver said after he swallowed the bitter but flavorsome tea. “You’ll have to teach me the recipe. Where did you learn it?”

Khan smiled at the compliment and looked away awkwardly. He was still getting used to being in constant company, having been out here on his own for years.

“I just picked it up, trying out different leaves and combinations until something didn’t taste like dirt,” Khan said, shrugging away his skills.

“Who taught you how to do all this?” Denver said, indicating the fire and general camp setup.

“I found a few books with some pages intact in a burned-out library. That and plenty of experimentation. I had a lot of time on my hands.”

Although they had only stopped for a short while, Khan had created a number of cooking utensils carved from branches, created an efficient fire, and set up a lightweight shelter that protected them from rain and, most importantly, being spotted from above if a croatoan were to fly over.

Layla and Maria were preparing four rabbits Khan had caught at the far end of the camp, using a large flat boulder to prep them for cooking.

Although they brought ration packs and water, it made sense to make use of what was around in the woods while they rested up for a moment.