“I’m sure she’ll be okay,” Mai said, as they continued to climb the steps up to the surface and into the light of a new day, a new dawn—as long as the microwave weapon worked, otherwise this might be the last morning he and the rest of Unity would see.
THE CHILL WIND whipped through Mike’s sweater, making him shiver as he stalked up the steps of Unity’s steep sides.
Mai had remained at the bottom to save her energy. They kept in touch via a short-range two-way radio they had salvaged from a nearby town.
As he climbed ever closer to the ridgetop where the swaying fields of root crop waited, he felt like the entire town was watching him with bated breath and expectant hearts. The pressure, he was sure, was not good for him. His chest tightened with each step, but he carried on until he finally reached his destination.
Some of the Unity engineers had erected a staging platform for the weapon: a wooden plinth two meters high. A set of steps, adapted from a crashed aircraft, led up to this plinth. Mike climbed up and let out a long breath as he finally reached his zenith. The platform, however, didn’t stop there.
The engineers had built a wooden tower some three meters high, upon which was attached the directional dish that would be used to aim and fire the concentrated beam of microwaves.
Mike recognized the dish as one of the US Army’s own take on a microwave weapon. Matte green in color and hexagonal in shape, the dish was once used to pacify protestors.
How awful that now seemed, Mike thought as he placed his bag of equipment onto the platform. How could humanity have been so cruel to its own people? If they only knew what was coming, then perhaps human life would have been held in higher regard. Though a nagging doubt in the back of his mind told him that was still unlikely. It’s not as if the teachings of religion and art from ancient civilizations had any effect.
“How are you doing up there?” Mai asked, her voice crackling over the two-way radio.
Mike reached up to his lapel where he had it attached. Pressing the button, he said, “I got here in one piece; the engineers have done a good job on the platform. I’m just connecting up now. I’ll report back in five, over.”
With the ripe scent of root wafting on the cold breeze, Mike rubbed his hands together and got to work connecting the device to the batteries and the dish. He had to admire the combination of human and croatoan tech and ingenuity. If only the croatoans had come to them peacefully. They could have perhaps worked together for the benefit of both races—or at least to avoid wholesale slaughter of the majority of one species.
The hate filled him as it always did when he thought about what could have been. With the memories of finding that blue bead and the excitement it brought, Mike attached the final wire to the dish and flicked on the power switch.
The device hummed to life and two green LEDs flashed, indicating that all was as it should be; the first light confirmed the device was receiving power and the second confirmed connection to the dish.
“The first two checks are good. Over,” Mike said into his radio.
“That’s great to hear,” Mai replied, then her voice cut off to be replaced by Aimee’s. “Good job, Mike, we’re all very proud of what you, Mai, and Gib have done. Are you ready for the test? Over.”
Mike stood at the edge of the wooden platform and looked across the root field until he saw the pair of croatoan breathing packs held up on wooden poles fifty feet apart and about a hundred meters away. If they had done their work properly, then the microwave blast would overload the apparatus’ electronics, damaging them beyond repair.
The croatoans in Unity had long ditched the interconnected systems and had built smaller, mechanical units. Although they weren’t as sophisticated as the electronic ones, they did the job and weren’t reliant on power beyond their own breathing. It was all done with filters.
Those still on the farms, now part of Augustus’ united group, did not have the time or abilities to build a new system—and why would they when they thought they were in charge and faced no threat?
“Mike?” Mai prompted. “Are you there? Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sorry, I was just thinking… no matter, I’m firing the test right now. Over.” He stepped back to the small square device and held the chrome switch between his fingers. This was it…
His body trembled with a mix of fear and excitement just like it used to when he was on the verge of an archeological discovery or some kind of engineering breakthrough. He wasted no more time and flipped the switch.
The green LEDs blinked out to be replaced with a pulsating red one next to the firing switch on the device’s aluminum surface. The air around him hummed as the device dumped a massive amount of energy into the dish in the form of encrypted microwaves.
The red LED blinked out and the strange sensation stopped. “It fired,” Mike said excitedly. “I’m just going to confirm the apparatus is no longer working. Over.”
“Be careful,” Mai said.
“I always am,” he replied. He must have said that a million times over the years as he and Mai worked on their various projects.
As fast as his old legs could carry him, Mike stepped off the platform and strode through the pungent field of root crop toward the two breathing packs. Each step added to his anxiety. He felt sick as he reached the first one. He almost didn’t want to know the answer, but he had an entire town waiting on him, so he wasted no time and removed the multimeter from his trouser pocket and placed the prongs into the breathing apparatus’ power conduit.
With the second one attached, he held his breath and closed his eyes as he muttered prayers to the gods of electronics. When he opened his eyes and stared down at the instrument display, his heart sank.
It was reading perfectly normal! The microwave blast hadn’t blown the workings as hoped. A sheen of sweat rose on his face and neck. His legs shook, but he tried to remain calm and tested again. The result came back the same.
Okay, try the other one, he thought, quickly dashing over to the second machine. It too was still fully operational.
It had failed.
He had failed.
Mike fell to one knee and hung his head, the night’s efforts finally catching up with him. He pounded the compacted hard ground with his fist and yelled an incoherent word, just to let out the frustration and rage.
All that work, and for nothing!
He reached for the radio and pressed the button, but the words wouldn’t come. An entire town was hoping for good news, that the weapon would work and they would have a strong defense against Augustus.
Before he could say anything, he heard a sudden crack of tree limbs. He spun round and saw the tops of the trees at the edge of the wooded area shake as yet more branches snapped.
Then he saw them: two hover-bikes bursting out of the woods, driven by a pair of armored croatoan drivers.
With his finger still pressed on the radio’s transmitter button, Mike shouted, “They’re here!” and scrambled to his feet, running with any remaining energy he had left to get back to the safety of Unity, but the hover-bikes were gaining on him, the whine of their engines splitting the air.
Then they fired.
Chapter 18
AFTER EXECUTING the remaining aliens in the individual cells, the croatoan bounty hunter, along with most of the slavers, left for the shuttle. The remaining three blue-robed tredeyans dragged dead aliens from their cells and piled them up in front of the two chained-up clusps. They guarded the mouth of the cavern and hungrily glared at the surviving prisoners, preferring living meat to their recently delivered meals.