Colonization (Alien Invasion Book 3) (22 page)

Piper’s patience broke. She’d nearly died a few times today and would live with the screams of others who hadn’t been as lucky. The world had been turned then turned again. She couldn’t keep up and longed for it all to stop long enough to get her head straight. These weren’t her enemies. But they were the only people she could shout at, and the number of things they were taking for granted was stupid.

She didn’t know what the network hub was.

She didn’t know
where
it was.

Even
they
didn’t seem certain exactly where it was.

And besides, Piper didn’t know what she was supposed to do with this hub if she found it, the drive, or anything else. Send the information to Benjamin? Okay. But how? Astrals controlled the networks, and the Astrals wouldn’t be happy that Piper was trying to share her contraband. Even if there was a way to send a signal — and even if Piper had a clue how to do it — the Astrals would surely block it.

How did mansion access matter? If the peacekeepers had been sent to pursue her, there was no chance she’d be allowed back on the grounds. Even if she was, there was no way she’d be left to roam free. There was no way she wouldn’t be searched. There was no way — no way in the deepest pit of Hell — she’d be able to take what she’d shown to the monks and magically deliver it to anyone outside the city. Worst of all: Franklin had left a copy on the church computer. There would be no question of what Piper had taken from her husband. She was caught red-handed, and the evidence — whatever it was evidence
of
— would die with her.

“It’s the best chance we have,” Franklin said. “The tablet in that photo — ”

“ — might not mean anything!” Piper almost shouted. She felt near tears. They were tying knots with her arguments. So what if some device was missing? It didn’t mean a damned thing, and wasn’t worth the loss of more lives.

But even as she screamed at Franklin, Piper knew she was fooling herself. She hadn’t just seen the tablet. She’d seen the other files, too: a plan nearing completion. A clock that would soon start ticking. Repetitions of some of the stories Benjamin had told her in Moab, only this time from many years past. Whoever had written what she’d seen, he or she had been human. Alien work done by human hands, before the hammer fell. And it was indeed a hammer meant to fall.

She remembered what Charlie, Benjamin’s colleague, had said a long time ago.

Contact has only ever been phase one.

What’s phase two?

Extermination.

Yes. That’s why she’d stolen. That’s why she’d run. The Astrals meant to use whatever they’d left behind.

“Then we can just
take
it to Benjamin. We can ride to Utah. Or walk, if we have to.”

“Something tells me they won’t just let us go if we have the drive.” Franklin looked at Piper. “Or if you’re with us.”

“But I can’t just — !”

Piper stopped protesting when she heard a low, rattling growl from around the corner in front of them. She stepped back to feel the press of bodies behind her. For a moment, she wondered why the monks wouldn’t back up too, but then she turned and saw the problem. They’d taken shelter to catch their breath and plan in the most closed-off place they could find: a dead-end alley that would soon be their grave.

“Go. We have to get out of here right now,” Franklin said.

“It’s out there.”

“We can’t go back. We have to run. We’ll split up.”

But they couldn’t. By the time Franklin was finishing his sentence, the alleyway’s open mouth end was eclipsed by an enormous, slinking black shape. It moved into view, almost too wide to enter. It entered anyway, its powerful haunches taut, its black-scale skin shifting with that strange luminescent blue glow bleeding from beneath.

Despite its sheer bulk, Piper’s attention was drawn to its eyes — its double-lidded, color-shifting eyes.

First, they were yellow.

Then black, vanishing into the churning skin of what passed for its gruesome face.

Then red.

Then a blue as bright as the deepest ocean.

The Reptar came on tapping claws, its body like a beast, its movements like an insect. Its mouth opened. Piper saw rows upon rows of needle-tipped teeth, arranged in concentric rings. The jaw seemed to unhinge too far then almost flatten. Its core made a noise like specters stirring. An inhaling, grating rattle, something wet and boiling into a gurgle.

Piper raised her hands in surrender, knowing it was futile.

“I’m the viceroy’s wife.” She tried to keep her voice even, fighting panic’s downward drag.

The Reptar roared, its breath rancid like soured meat.

It coiled its twisted haunches to spring.

There was a noise like thunder, and the thing’s head disintegrated. Piper found herself spattered in gore — a curious blend of red blood threaded with glowing blue, like something squeezed from a firefly.

Christopher stood at the alley’s mouth, just behind the Reptar’s body, holding something that looked like a sawed-off shotgun that had been somehow modified, covered with tubes and gears. Terrence was behind Christopher, with Trevor beside him. To Trevor’s other side — unbelievably — stood Heather.

“It works.” Christopher handed the weapon to Terrence with a satisfied nod. “What d’ya know?”

C
HAPTER
26

Meyer stopped, his head cocked, Mo Weir dashing to his side. Mo never ran. It was odd to see his suitcoat flapping, the man nudged into urgency against his will.

“What was that?” Mo asked.

Meyer wasn’t sure. It had sounded like a gunshot, but it felt like forever since he’d heard one, back when he’d almost felt like another Meyer Dempsey. He remembered the sound concussing his eardrums and the way it made everything sound muffled as if by ill-fitting earplugs for a while afterward.

“Was that a gun?” Mo asked.

They were still inside the house, nearing the front door. The sound had been like the striking of a mallet and had definitely come from ahead, but that only told Meyer it had happened outside. The house had no sense of auditory direction. All sounds that didn’t originate inside came from the door, from all over the city, above and below.

“So you heard it,” Meyer said.

“Of course I heard it. Why wouldn’t I hear it?”

“I thought it … never mind.” Mo wouldn’t understand. Plenty of what Meyer heard these days came from inside his head. He could hear the Astral discussions even now: Reptars on patrol, curiously disturbed, quiet Titan minds, Divinity’s overarching judgment — and, when Divinity saw fit, its orders to the viceroy.

Mo was moving forward. Meyer hung back, curious. Christopher carried a pistol. It wouldn’t thump like that, and since Meyer had ordered him to the gates where there’d be Astrals, gunfire didn’t make sense. You didn’t hear guns inside Heaven’s Veil. Peacekeepers used their teeth to enforce order, and shuttles blasted silent energy rays. Humans hadn’t been stupid enough to fire their primitive weapons inside the city in months. It was possible Christopher had run off to the gate as Meyer had asked then fired a shot, but why? And besides, Christopher’s pistol would have made a distant crack, not that low, heavy thumping sound.

Mo shook his head, approaching Meyer. He’d been willing enough a few seconds ago, but that simple report had taken the wind from his sails.

“I’m going back. We can monitor this from your office.”

Meyer rubbed his temples. They’d both seen the new message on his phone. Meyer didn’t know if he could trust whoever had sent him Piper’s whereabouts, but he
could
easily believe that her disappearance at this specific moment wasn’t a coincidence. Piper had trekked through what was now outlands with Cameron Bannister then spent months with the man and his crew at the Utah lab the Astrals perpetually ignored. If the man waiting outside had come from some sort of rebel camp, perhaps Piper was on her way to meet him.
Especially
given the information she seemed to have stolen.

Meyer didn’t know how he felt about any of it. A sense of betrayal? Anger? Crushed dignity, owing to the Astrals cutting their human viceroy from the loop and handling everything themselves? Or was it jealousy? Everyone talked readily enough about Cameron Bannister, but Piper was tight-lipped despite knowing him best — at least around Meyer. What did that say about their relationship in Meyer’s absence?

“No, Mo. Come with me.”

“We’re not soldiers.”

“And it’s not a war. I just want to see.”

Mo shook his head, still heading away from the front door. “If you want to see what’s happening around gunfire, you’re on your own.”

Meyer wasn’t sure he wanted to see what was happening after all.

But he ran through the door anyway, feeling the skies open and exposed — nervous and conflicted for the first time in what felt like forever.

C
HAPTER
27

Cameron heard the loud, low thumping report echo to his position from inside the city. Immediately afterward, he saw the shuttles stir and shuffle without leaving the gates.

Cameron swore from his concealed position behind a burned-out car. This had always been the plan’s trickiest part. Crossing the outlands — especially with Nathan Andreus’s permission and offer of a vehicle — had been easy. But getting past the gates and its guards, even after ditching the bike and approaching slowly on foot? Now that felt downright impossible.

He heard a low, deep stirring in the distance. The sound of Reptars, seeming to scream out in unison. He looked toward the shot’s apparent location, somehow expecting a flock of birds in startled flight. But nothing happened beyond that growl. No movement of shuttles.

He’d been here for over an hour, staring at the gates, waiting for a solution to surface from nowhere. He had no way to communicate with Moab; his helmet had shattered when he’d rolled through that field of (apparently alien) ball bearings. He had no way of speaking to anyone inside the city. He had no line to Terrence, no line to anyone friendly in the Heaven’s Veil resistance. He could go around to where Terrence’s church stood against the wall (and now that he thought about it, probably should), but that would mean approaching through a razed, baked pan of land, passing the massive statues denoting artists’ attempts to capture the face of Divinity. Heading around to the church would mean moving in plain sight, and if any shuttles or Astral guards were in the area, he’d be dead. Besides, he’d be giving away more than just himself if he went to the church. The Astrals weren’t stupid. They’d let him make contact before striking — and that would spell the end for Benjamin’s contacts. And for Terrence.

He sat back against the destroyed vehicle, trying to think. Cameron had a singular mission: to get the Canned Heat to Terrence. He could hook the thing to the hub on his own, with or without Cameron’s help. He liked the idea of taking a rest and perhaps staying hidden in the city for a while before heading back (ideally leaving a newly freed Internet behind) but didn’t need to do anything beyond making contact and delivering his parcel.

Stripped to its basics — getting the Canned Heat over the wall and into Terrence’s hands, without taking a Heaven’s Veil vacation — the idea sounded more manageable. But regrettably, even
more manageable
didn’t take him to possible.

Maybe he could sneak up to the fence and throw the thing over when no one was looking.

Maybe he could lure a hawk to the ground, tie the Canned Heat to its legs, then somehow train it to find Terrence.

Shit.

He had no idea how to do what needed doing. He’d anticipated improvisation, but now that he was here, Cameron found himself clueless.

He was about to walk a wide circle around the city, searching for weak spots (or possibly carrier hawks), when several loud sounds boomed from behind him.

Cameron turned then stood enough to peek through the car’s shattered windows. His breath caught in his throat.

The double set of gates were opening wide, and the shuttles were moving out of the way, circling around toward the city’s center and rear, out of sight.

Ten minutes passed. The gates stayed open, seemingly unguarded for no reason at all.

Cameron stared at the wide-open gate for what felt like an hour before deciding that the shuttles seemed to be gone, and the gates would stay open.

And worst/best of all, he knew the gates hadn’t merely
opened
. They’d opened
for him.

It didn’t matter if it was a trap. If the Astrals knew he was here, flight was futile anyway. If they knew he was here, he’d have to take his chances at a trap or die running.

There were still things they didn’t know. There was still a chance, no matter how slim.

Between a thin chance and none at all, Cameron’s choice seemed clear.

He stood.

Walked forward slowly.

And waited to see what would happen.

C
HAPTER
28

Raj watched the guard shack’s security monitor, seeing a red dot appear a handful of blocks away. Whether the red dot indicated a shot fired to match what he’d heard or something more, he didn’t know. Christopher knew exactly what all of the grid map’s symbols meant, but Christopher wasn’t here. He was off picking his ass, like always. Captain of the guard indeed. What was higher? Captain or commander?