“That we need to sort things out,” Gregor said. “Have you been speaking to anyone about the harvesters?”
Igor shook his head. “They’re not part of my job. Are you suggesting I’ve been giving their intended paths away? I’m not the one who got caught with my pants down. You need to speak with Marek.”
“Are you telling me what to do?” Gregor said. Igor stood motionless, mouth hanging open. “Do I have to ask you twice?”
“No. You can trust me implicitly to do what’s best for the team.”
That was Gregor’s main concern. What Igor thought was best for the team probably involved him being boss. The individual problems were mounting, but at least he had license to execute the Russian if needed.
Chapter 11
BEN SQUINTED at the sudden flash of light.
The place smelled fresh and unfamiliar, a scent rooted in nature and in stark opposition to the sterile smell of the harvester. He breathed it in deeply, the damp atmosphere moistening his throat and lungs. The underground room accommodated the five of them plus Denver’s dog. Shadows gathered in the corners, cast there by a small battery-powered lamp of sorts hanging from an overhead wooden beam, rough-hewn from a trunk.
Ben remembered watching a video of humans of old cutting trees and planking the logs with simple machinery. Agricultural, Jimmy used to say, when denoting something wasn’t hi-tech.
It seemed to Ben that this world, his home that he never had chance to know, was now a mix, but humanity weren’t the ones with the tech anymore.
“Sit down and be quiet,” Charlie growled, indicating a log that had been placed on the dirt floor. Maria and Ethan did as they were told and huddled together. They were used to receiving orders, Ben however refused and remained standing.
Denver pulled back at a tatty curtain to reveal a screen. A grainy image of armored figures like the one that had killed Erika played out a curious film. There were four of them, in a diamond pattern. Each one carried a pistol like the one Denver had fired at one of the smaller creatures.
“What’s happening,” Ben said, approaching Charlie.
“We’re being hunted. They’re trying to locate your GPS signal.”
“Our what?”
“You really don’t know anything, do you, kid?” Charlie shook his head as he looked at Ben and his colleagues. He turned his attentions to Denver at the screen, joining his son with an arm over his shoulder.
Denver whispered something to Charlie and looked back at Ben.
Infuriated at being left in the dark, Ben stepped forward only to walk into the barrel of the alien pistol. “Hey now, this isn’t on—”
Denver turned round. “Get back, sit down, and shut up. We’re trying to save your asses here.” Denver’s red beard hid the scowl, but Ben could see it in his eyes. Even though he was young, there was severe degree of hardness there.
If what they had said was true, and this was how they lived, Ben couldn’t blame him. Being constantly on the move, hunted, stalked, that must take its toll.
“How?” Ben said. “If they can track us…”
“Jammers,” Charlie said, lowering Denver’s arm. “It’ll scramble the signal, but won’t hold up to a close inspection. GPS means Global Positioning System. You have a chip embedded near your collarbone that transmits a signal. These fuckers pick it up and use it to trace you.”
Ben opened his mouth to ask a question but Charlie’s face told him it wasn’t a good option. He turned and sat with Maria and Ethan as Charlie said, “Look, I know this is all a lot to take in right now. Once we’re safe for a moment, I’ll explain everything in finer detail, but right now we need to be quiet and calm.”
Even though Ben was eager for answers and determined to get to the bottom of this, even if it was just to pay tribute to Jimmy and Erika, he knew not to push it. He sat down with his colleagues and waited.
“Have you seen that,” Ethan said, pointing to the end of the room into a dark nook that had been dug out of the dirt.
“I don’t like it here,” Maria said, keeping her voice low so Denver and Charlie couldn’t hear. “They’re going to get us killed—or worse.”
Ben narrowed his eyes to see what Ethan was pointing at. His vision eventually adjusted to the low light and it came into focus. One of the small aliens, like the one Denver killed back at the harvester, was pinned up against a wooden board.
It was cut open from sternum to groin, the pale-grey skin pinned back to reveal its inner biology. A number of wires, and what looked like probes or electrodes, were stuck into its organs. Its wide-set eyes were rolled back to reveal black orbs.
On the either side of the room was another nook, this time holding a series of shelves, on which, collected together, were a number of foil-packed rations.
A number of square gray boxes that he guessed were batteries were on the next shelf. Wires travelled up the dirt walls and across the boarded ceiling like the alien’s exposed arteries.
“I don’t trust them,” Ethan whispered. “We need to find a way to get loose.”
“I agree,” Maria said. “I think we should give ourselves up, go back with the aliens. Perhaps they’ll understand.”
Ben scowled and shook his head. With a harsh whisper, he berated his colleagues, unable to understand their reasoning. “Are you forgetting what they,” he pointed to the aliens still patrolling through the forest as shown on the screen, “did to Jimmy and Erika?”
Maria leaned in closer. “What if they attacked us because of Charlie and Denver?”
Denver’s dog stood up from her bed: an old box with a blanket hanging over the edges. Pip growled and pointed her nose to the entrance hole.
“What is it girl?” Denver said, kneeling to the hound and running his hand across the dog’s neck. The dog continued to growl.
Fragments of dirt fell from the ceiling and the boards that supported it shook.
“Fuck, they’re here, must be a second squad out of view,” Denver said in a hushed voice.
“How are you even seeing all this?” Ben said, also keeping his voice low.
“We’ve got a number of cameras rigged up outside,” Denver said. “Got to have eyes all over the place in order to stay alive in this world.”
“Have you always lived like this?” Ethan asked.
“Shhh,” Charlie said as he apparently moved the cameras to cover different angles.
Ben counted six of the aliens now. Four wore the gray-mesh armor like the harvester guard, while two looked like the smaller ones, wearing thinner material and gold-tinted visors.
“Shit,” Charlie said, “They’re running radar.”
Ben saw the two smaller ones put a pair of poles into the ground and then refer to a clear tablet-like device. It resembled the control tablets they had used back in the harvester.
The idea that it wasn’t actually a generation ship would take some getting used to, Ben thought. All his life he thought of it as a ship in space—such an elaborate ruse just to use him as nothing more than a worker drone. And now here was Charlie and Denver… although clearly human, he felt as alien to them as he did the croatoans.
“It’s time,” Charlie said to Denver. “They’ll find us within minutes if we don’t.”
“It’s a one-shot deal, Dad. Are you sure?”
Charlie looked to Ben and the others. “We don’t have any choice.”
Maria stood and stretched her arms. She looked scared, on edge. “Can you tell us what you’re talking about? I’m scared and just want to return to the ship.” Her eyes welled with tears.
Ethan got up from the tree trunk and hugged her. “There is no ship, Maria, that was all a lie. We have to stick together, okay?”
Charlie ignored them and moved through the shelter until he reached the shelf of batteries. He pulled out a metal box, its surface mottled and worn. Old green paint was chipped away to reveal a dull grey beneath. On top of the box was a red dome the size of his palm. It shined glossily in the low light; the crown of the dome polished through what Ben presumed was lots of use.