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“Just one,” Gregor said. “On my signal. We turn and attack the farm.”

Ben raised his head from a patch of long grass he was lying in. “I thought it was a diversion? You shoot and the shuttle takes off.”

Gregor grimaced. “The fight back has begun. Charlie isn’t sacrificing himself for us to act like chickens. We kill every leather-faced bastard we find.”

“So he’s your hero now?” Maria said.

“Be careful, little lamb. I’m not the enemy. You don’t want me as one.”

Layla listened but watched the croatoans. One appeared from the side of the shuttle carrying a scanner. The tennis-racket-shaped object gave off X-ray-like images on the clear, circular part. If Charlie was in a container, they’d identify him. The weight must’ve been slightly off, triggering suspicion amongst the aliens.

Another croatoan joined the one carrying the scanner, and they disappeared into the back of the shuttle.

“We need to do it now, Gregor,” Layla said.

“Just seen it,” Gregor said. “We watch them take off, move straight through the trees to the main square. Make your shots count. Barracks first. Get their weapons. Okay?”

Layla nodded. “Now or never.”

“Ready,” Maria said, holding up her pistol.

“I’ll be right behind you,” Ben said.

Gregor aimed through the trees toward the forklift that was still moving slowly along the trial.

He fired three times.

The forklift picked up speed and disappeared from view.

Croatoans at the back of the shuttle started to move with urgency. The two outside hopped straight into the side entrance. The two inside the back compartment sprang out and followed. The rear door smoothly closed with a pneumatic hiss. The graphite ramp slid into the body of the vehicle, and the side door slammed shut.

Engines roared into life. Dirt blew across the landing strip.

On the shuttle roof, the pulse cannon’s turret started to turn toward the forest.

“Run,” Gregor said.

Layla followed Gregor as he crashed through undergrowth like a wild boar. She glanced back. The shuttle was above the trees. Its cannon built toward a high-pitched crescendo.

Gregor dived down and covered his ears. Layla did the same, landing with a squelch in a brown, stagnant puddle.

The cannon boomed. A flash of brilliant light flooded the forest.

Debris flew over her head. Branches landed on top of her.

The shuttle’s engines whirred. Their noise started to drift away.

Layla glanced up. The six pink rings were getting smaller, like a colorful domino in the sky, heading toward the mother ship, carrying its deadly payload.

“Is everyone okay?” Gregor said.

He stood and helped Layla up by her arm. A section of forest to their left, the size of a basketball court, had been obliterated by the cannon blast. Trees were smashed to the ground, their jagged black stumps smoking from the heat of the shot.

Ben rustled through the leaves of a thick branch that had blown off a tree. Maria crouched next to Layla. “Do they have those things on the farm?”

“No. Stick with Gregor. Do what he says. You’ll be fine.”

Gregor moved off at pace again. He broke the tree line and raced past his office. Layla kept focused on the ground ahead, trying to keep up, searching for any croatoans who would have heard the shuttle fire.

Single rifle shots came from the far end of the camp. Denver, carrying out his assault.

Croatoan rifles started to snap closer to them, coming from the square.

They moved along the side of the chocolate factory. Gregor paused at the end. Layla looked over his shoulder. Three aliens were mounting hover-bikes. Three fired toward the warehouse. Layla thought her heart was about to burst out of her chest as she struggled to control her breathing. This wasn’t her environment, and she wondered if Gregor really was the one to get them out of this. But with Denver back toward the square, she had no other choice but to trust and follow.

Adopting a prone position, Gregor fired at three alien engineers standing in the square. One dropped forward, clutching its helmet. Denver must’ve hit another as it fell back between Gregor’s shots. The third croatoan started hopping away. Gregor cut it down before it could reach its barracks.

“Maria, Ben, you take the chocolate factory. They’re unarmed. Layla, come with me,” Gregor said.

They rushed across the square. Three hover-bikes thrust into the air and turned to face Layla. She ducked behind a parked hover-bike, tumbling down in a heap next to Gregor. She breathed deeply, steadied her hands, aimed, and fired.

Shots echoed from behind, coming from inside the chocolate factory. Denver came running into the square before he knelt and started firing into the sky.

An alien fell sideways off the closest hovering bike. It remained in its position, slowly spinning around. The two remaining bikes zipped away over the buildings in a southerly direction.

“Where are they going?” Layla said.

“Who knows?” Gregor replied. “Maybe to another farm. It’s two less we don’t have to worry about. Let’s get those alien rifles. I’m nearly out of ammo.”

Denver met them at the bodies as they each picked up a weapon.

“Did your dad make it?” Layla said.

“Yeah. He’s in a container,” Denver said. “Where to from here? I’ve dealt with the lizards in the meat-processing place.”

“Shoot out the windows of the barracks.” Gregor pointed to the buildings. “Drop anything that comes out of the doors.”

They turned and collectively fired at the barracks windows. Thin, orange gas seeped from the bullet holes after the alien projectiles punctured through. A small croatoan, one of the surveyors, came running out without his protective visor and breathing equipment, his eyes wide with panic and terror. It was instantly felled by multiple shots.

Nothing else came out of the buildings for the next minute as all three stood in the middle of the square, aiming at different points, covering a 360-degree arc.

“If it’s this easy, why didn’t you do it before?” Denver asked.

“There used to be soldiers. We’d be dead if they were still here,” Gregor said. “When they figure out what’s happened, and if your old man doesn’t manage to let off that bomb of his, you better be ready for their retaliation.”

“This place has been ramping down for a while,” Layla said. She peered up at the two hulks crawling across the sky. “I bet it’s the same for all the farms. I thought they were moving to a management mode. It’s probably due to the atmosphere ship.”

“Gregor. Denver. Help,” Maria called out. She staggered across from the chocolate factory.

“What’s wrong?” Gregor said.

“Ben’s dead. I’m out of bullets. The little ones ran to the end of the room and hid in a huddle. We fired from the door. Thought we’d got them all. Ben went to confirm, and two attacked him with small swords. Hacked him to death.”

Gregor grunted and shook his head. “It was obvious he wouldn’t survive.”

“Come on, Gregor,” Layla said. “He’s played his part.”

“Is this how you think of your team?” Denver said.

Gregor twisted around to face him. “Did you see where Alex and Vlad went?”

Denver looked into the distance. “Dead. Aliens must have got them early.”

“If I find their bodies with wounds inflicted by your rifle, I’ll rip off your arm, ram it through your head, and ride you around like a croatoan hover-bike. Do you understand?”

The thought of Denver enacting swift revenge on Gregor’s team as soon as he had the opportunity sent a shiver down Layla’s spine. Although not completely implausible, his story for Alex and Vlad’s end didn’t seem to fit with how the aliens on the farm operated. They would’ve assumed that both were still part of the team.