“Don’t worry. I know Charlie will kill me if I don’t get you fresh air.”
A low glow from Vingo’s helmet showed his location toward the front of their makeshift shelter. The fire had burned down to embers. Denver scrambled forward to join the alien, making sure he didn’t make too much noise so as to wake Layla and his dad. He didn’t doubt they needed the rest and recuperation as much as he.
“All safe out there?” Denver asked, feeling awkward talking to Vingo. He knew him to be a liar and a traitor, yet there was still that hope that he could help them. With no other real choices, Denver thought it best to at least get along with him, draw some information out. If they were going to be double-crossed, it made sense to get the measure of the tredeyan.
“Where is your family?” Denver asked, sitting next to Vingo at the entrance of their cave. “If your kind have families, that is.”
“We do. Mine are dead.”
“Sorry about that,” Denver said, half meaning it. He knew enough about loss to know that even someone like Vingo wouldn’t find it an easy proposition.
“We should move,” the alien said. “The war is dying down. The scion will consolidate their domination and get to work with their search. I already heard their network of energy probes coming online.”
“What’s this city like?” Denver asked. “I mean, do you have residential and commercial buildings there? Shops, that kind of thing? What sort of economy do you have?”
“Every planet in the galaxy is different,” Vingo said, softening his voice as though appreciating Denver’s interest. Denver suspected they’d get more from him this way than threatening him.
“Go on,” Denver prompted. “I’m interested. I know we’ve not had a lot of time or opportunity to talk about this kind of stuff, but now Earth is connected to all this, I would like to know more about how it’s all set up. We’ve gone from thinking the croatoans were the only other species out there to learning there’s a galactic conflict going on.”
“I can see how that might be difficult for you.”
“Not difficult, just… interesting.”
“So our economy on this planet is done via a caste system of privileges. At birth, every tredeyan is analyzed to see what their genetic makeup will be more applicable to. They’re assigned a role and a set of privileges. Of course, those born from the higher families benefit from a skewed assessment in their favor.”
Denver wanted to say that sounded entirely unfair, but from what his dad had told him of Earth’s culture before the war, it wasn’t entirely different. There were always glass ceilings and levels of status that some could not cross.
“How do you trade with other species and planets,” Denver asked, “if you don’t use money here?”
“Depends on where in the galaxy you go and with whom you’re trading. You’ll soon learn this, I’m sure. A favor can often go further than any monetary compensation.”
Vingo lingered a knowing look at Denver, being entirely unsubtle about his point. Denver just smiled and nodded as though he understood in order to build a bridge of trust between them, even if Denver knew Vingo would wait for his chance to double-cross them.
“How much air do you have?” Vingo asked.
Denver looked at the small readout on his visor’s HUD. “About five TUs.”
“That should be fine. It’ll take one and a half to reach the capital city. We’ll be able to restock your suits there… if the supplies haven’t been taken or looted.”
“What do you mean?” Denver asked. “Are you suggesting there are humans here who would be needing those supplies?”
Vingo blinked his eyes, a gesture Denver had learned from the croatoans that meant ‘yes.’
“You better not be talking about slaves,” Charlie said from behind them, his voice thick with the croak of tiredness.
“No, not slaves. I’ll explain more later. Let’s not waste your air arguing over something that won’t help us stay alive. We need to move now. Once in the outskirts of the city, we’ll find transport and head for the vaults. If fortune is on our side, it’ll work out as we intend.”
“I can’t say fortune has favored us much so far,” Charlie said. “I’ll put my faith in guns. Which reminds me, how are we doing for ammo?”
“I lost my rifle,” Denver said. “I just have a knife.”
“I have two magazines on me,” Vingo said.
“Three here, grabbed from the others back at the prison,” Charlie said. “Rifle’s taken a few knocks, though, so I don’t know how useful it’ll be.”
“Layla?” Denver said. “Are you awake?”
She groaned and rolled over in the darkness. “Just a few more minutes,” she mumbled, sounding like a small child pleading with her parents to let her stay in the warm embrace of slumber for a while longer.
Charlie moved over to her and checked her suit. “Two here,” Charlie said.
“If we go now and be careful, we might not even need the weapons,” Vingo said.
“We’ll see about that,” Charlie replied.
“Layla, come on. We’ve got to,” Denver said, placing his gauntlet on her shoulder, shaking her gently and rousing her from sleep. Her face looked so peaceful behind her visor. He just stared at her for a while, words he couldn’t express refusing to come to him.
“Den?” Layla said, finally opening her eyes to look up at him. “What time is it?”
“Time to move.”
“Where are we?”
She sat up and saw Vingo staring at her from the entrance. She grimaced as the realization set in. “God,” she said, shaking her head. “I thought we were… well, not here.”
Helping her to her feet, Denver put his arm around her shoulder and led her out of the shelter, saying, “We’ll get home. There’s always a way. We always win… somehow.”
“Come,” Vingo said, leading them out of the shelter and onto the dark shoreline. “If we’re quick and quiet, we’ll be at the vaults with plenty of time to spare.”
IN JUST OVER a TU and a half, they crested the hill and looked down at the capital city. Illuminated by a moon and starlight, Denver saw that half of the city was cut into a low mountain overlooking a dark lake. The rest was a sprawl of squat buildings, indicating the vast network underground.
In the distance, a number of scion mechs hovered through the streets and valleys, firing their lasers with surgical precision at specific targets. Strewn throughout the wide streets and surrounding areas, smoking, flaming hulks of croatoan and tredeyan military vehicles lay dying.
Denver spotted half a dozen destroyed scion craft among the wreckage. It was clearly a bitter-fought battle that even now seemed to be ongoing, albeit in a more controlled, inevitable fashion.
“Get down,” Vingo said, indicating to a stone wall at the top of the hill.
Denver and the others did as they were told and ducked down into the shadows. Vingo raised slowly and peered down into the city with the rifle scope.
“Most of it is deserted,” he said. “They got out.”
“Who?” Layla asked.
“The government officials and the higher ranking citizens. There, see?”
Denver and the others crept up to peer over the edge of the wall.
From two of the large mansion-like buildings cut into the mountain, a pair of ships took off and headed west, directly away from the city, their engines kicking in as soon as they were at the right altitude.
“What are they?” Charlie said.
“Escape craft. Only the most privileged have them.”
“Why don’t we take one?” Denver said.
“We won’t need it. See that scion ship on the horizon? We’re going there. Besides, it’s not likely any will be available. They would have left as soon as they could. Those that didn’t leave in time are probably dead.”