CHAPTER NINETEEN
Joshua was already shaking with fatigue, but he complied, pressing his left leg into the machine and lifting the weight. His knee had taken six weeks to heal. Almost a year later the cyber joint was incredibly strong. Initially, he’d been afraid it would slow him down; instead, it had increased his speed.
His trainer seemed pleased with his progress. Joshua felt no pride in his accomplishments, however. He’d been trained to be dissatisfied with his current level, whatever that might be. He did nothing but train, eat, and sleep. The discoveries along the way were eye opening.
The first revelation was that he could shut out emotional pain and pretend he wanted to be a Nostekoi. The second revelation came as an affirmation of his abilities. He’d always known there had to be an explanation for his extraordinary sight, hearing and strength. The soldiers with red eyes were genetically engineered to fight. They were called Cyphers. They trained and lived separately from the regular soldiers. Faster, stronger, and quicker than any human being could possibly be, they were lethal, and from what he understood, hard to kill.
It answered a lot of questions about his origins, though not as many as he would have liked. He asked them how he ended up on Remington, and they told him that he was actually a shipment, meant to go to one of the colonies for some testing. His ship was only supposed to stop on Remington, but after the crash, the Nos had let him stay there. They wanted to see what would happen if they let him live as a colonist.
The re-education process turned out to be time consuming, so they’d halted the other immersion experiments. Having to resort to torture compromised the trainees’ abilities and their loyalty. There were only about five of them who had gone through the re-education ordeal. Two of them hadn’t made it.
“We’re going to the next level tomorrow,” his trainer said. Tall and big boned, Mick enjoyed pushing his trainees to the limit, his appetite for competition insatiable. Typical of the Nostekoi, no cost was too high for victory. Mick had once ruptured his appendix in a sit-up competition, and expected the same fanaticism from his trainees.
Sweating and exhausted, Joshua pulled himself out of the weight training machine. Finding out his genes had been tampered with just to make him a soldier was depressing. He struggled to reconcile himself to the idea that he probably never had parents. In a way, it made the loss of his adopted mother even more acute. For a time, he had been someone’s son. He drew in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. His mom would say he was still someone’s son. He knew she would if she were here. He might just be a tool to the Nostekoi, but nothing they did could break what he had with his parents and his sister. They belonged to him.
He wondered if Caina and his dad were safe. He hoped that they were taking care of each other, that Caina was able to overcome her grief. He knew she missed him, maybe even believed he and Cristian were dead. He knew she’d fallen in love with Cristian, but there was nothing he could do to help either of them. It was all he could do to keep Cristian alive.
He had five minutes to shower and dress. The bright, sterile training rooms were all part of a large honeycomb of glass enclosures. The showers afforded some privacy, but that was the only place. He stepped into the locker room and stripped off his clothes, dropping them on the floor. They’d be picked up by bots as soon as he left, something his parents had never allowed in their house. Pick up your own clothes, his mother had told him time and again. He bent down and picked up his clothes, laying them on a bench. He didn’t know when her funeral happened. He sometimes dreamt that she was still alive.
He stepped under one of the spigots that lined the wall. Cold water gushed out, and he shivered, letting the soapy water wash over him. He scrubbed at his body with the hard sponge stuck in a cubby. He didn’t remember the pleasure of a hot shower. That had been before.
Out of the cold water, he stepped into the rush of air that dried him off and left him shivering again. A few others stepped into the showers, but he didn’t greet them. He rarely talked at all. He didn’t need to smile all the time to prove the Nostekoi indoctrination had worked. They knew it hadn’t.
He’d been told that the Alliance was unprepared for an alien invasion, and without the Nostekoi intervention, the colonies would vanish without a trace. They called themselves the Nostekoi after the name of the first ship the aliens had attacked. The only survivor had tried to tell other Galactic Alliances, but no one would listen.
His name was Darien Priest, and he had taken what he knew to Castor and Pollux, outlying colonies with military-minded leaders who were willing to heed his warning. Only the generals knew who Darien was. He’d created the Cyphers and built up an army to save mankind, the story went. They rumored that he had silver hair, that it had turned that way prematurely. His word was law, and the generals under him served with fanatic devotion. It was also rumored that you didn’t want to get his attention, if you could help it.
Joshua followed the dogma, but he kept a healthy skepticism. There were too many questions. Why hadn’t he heard of these aliens before, other than the usual sci-fi geek rumors and theories? No galactic Alliance would ignore that kind of threat. And why were the Nos so bloodthirsty against a people they were supposedly trying to help? None of it added up to him.
He slipped into the black uniform and boots, flipping his wrist over to look at the small scar where they’d injected him with nano transmitters. His red irises glittered with nano recorders. His whole body teemed with nanos performing various tasks for the Nos. They knew every move he made. If they couldn’t read his thoughts, they at least made a convincing case that they could. When he refused to train, they brought out a battered Cristian so he would never make that mistake again. They didn’t even bother to threaten to beat Cristian, they just did it. So Joshua trained when he was told, ate when and what he was told to, and slept when he was told. Cristian’s survival depended on his perfect, exact obedience, and he made sure the Nos never had a reason to hurt Cristian again.
Other than seeing him that one time Joshua was not allowed to have any contact with Cristian. Sometimes he demanded to see him. Sometimes they let him, but never in person, and Cristian never knew that Joshua was there. They kept Cristian in a sterile little cell with a vid game so he wouldn’t go insane.
Joshua went past the locker wall and out into the corridor. A familiar figure walked toward him, her long black hair swaying behind her as she walked, her red eyes finding his. Nixa didn’t speak to him, but he was sure she remembered him. He had shot her, after all. He didn’t know much about her, even after all these months. He knew most of the Cyphers were there because they’d grown up with the Nostekoi, and had trained since they were young. A few of them were like Joshua, experiments in colonial immersion that had to be re-educated. He wasn’t sure which category Nixa belonged in. If she resented the Nos, she hid it well.
A low signal hummed in his auditory implant. He turned on his heel, going to the transporter bay. He could hear Nixa following him. She would have heard the same signal in her own implant.
This would be his third battle. He’d done well the first two times, by his standards. By Nostekoi standards he was a failure—no kills. If he didn’t have one in this engagement there might be trouble for him or Cristian. He didn’t know how long he could continue to play the part of the efficient killer without actually killing anyone. Near misses and maiming didn’t count for the Nos.
His commanding officer looked at him as he boarded the black transport with the rest of the squadron. A line of red-eyed Cyphers entered the transport cargo hold and strapped in.
Joshua did the same, and bent his head to stare at the blade in his hand. It had almost become a part of his body now. He slipped it into the sheath on his leg. He needed a miracle or he was going to have to do something he didn’t believe in. Would he kill someone to save Cris? He was afraid he might.
***
Caina stepped out of the boxy, slightly battered transport onto Hades. There wasn’t much to see. A compound of bleached-white hangars sat on a faded black tarmac. The white buildings had been constructed in a hurry, using materials shipped from across the planet. The custom of using materials indigenous to the area had been suspended for the war. Huge cargo ships lumbered between planets, carrying pre-fab military buildings wherever a new station was needed.
Like the other military stations, the one on Hades lacked architectural sophistication. Square blocks with hardly any windows, the buildings were placed close to each other on an unimaginative grid.
Beyond that, as far as her eye could see, there was only pale brown desert. Scrubby little bushes dotted the baked ground, their brittle branches trembling in the wind. Dusty green patches of some kind of desert groundcover crept under the few bushes. A chain of mountains hovered on the horizon, their cool blue silhouettes far from the barren, scorched bowl.
“What a god-forsaken hellhole,” Brian muttered in her ear, his dark blue eyes squinting in the sun.
She licked her lips. They already felt dry. Lifting her eyes from the muted colors of the ground, she was surprised by the clear sky. The brilliant blue stared back her, pure and untainted by clouds.
“It’s kind of pretty, actually,” she said, though not loud enough to be heard by the other recruits now staring around at their new home.
“Yep.”
Startled, she glanced at Geoff. His hard, unsmiling face seemed right at home in this savage place. The quiet loneliness of the land matched his solitary ways.
“We’ll see how pretty it is in a week,” Brian said, obviously not agreeing with his brother. “We’re going to shrivel up and die here.”
A voice barked at them from the transport. “Listen up!”
The fifty recruits shuffling around in the dust stopped murmuring to each other. The gray-haired Commander Lenoir stepped down the ramp of the transport. His khaki camouflage uniform was crisp, his skin as brown as the desert around them, and his calm gray eyes mirrored the sky.
“Everything we’ve learned about the Nostekoi we’ve applied here. If you pass through the initial training, you’ll be evaluated for a higher level, and briefed on the requirements. For now, let’s move to the main barracks. Welcome to Hades.”
Caina fell in line behind Brian, Jeff following her. He whispered to her, “A higher level with requirements? That’s new.”
Pleased, she wondered if there was a specialized unit. She’d be in it, she knew that much. No one could be more motivated than she was. She couldn’t wait to meet the Nostekoi again, and when she did, she wouldn’t be some scared little teenage girl. She’d be a soldier. Of course, she’d have to survive Hades, first.
The most consistent thing about Hades was the lack of humidity in the air. She woke up with nosebleeds the first few weeks, and everyone smelled like minty lip balm.
One cold morning during another exercise, she decided it all felt more like school gym class than war. She and Brian were huddled in the shadow of the stark mountain range, shivering in the cold desert morning before sunrise.
They were supposed to be evading the green team. No one could be sure who the exercise was for—the team hiding or the team searching for them. Maybe both.
A rock skittered nearby, and they both froze. It had been close. Brian grinned in the darkness, his eyes glittering.
She scowled at him. She didn’t know how many others the greenies had found, but she didn’t want to be the first. She’d never get to the still-unnamed specialized unit they were all gunning for if she got caught this easily.
She moved to the balls of her feet, crouching like a cat, one hand on the ground. She pulled the thermal goggles over her eyes and silently turned them on. Brian raised an eyebrow at her, probably thinking she should lay low. She ignored him. She wanted to know the location of the rock skitterer.
She cocked her head, listening, hoping for another clue. A coyote yipped in the distance, and Brian widened his eyes in mock terror. She needed to stop looking at him. He didn’t care about the war. He just wanted to make sure she made it out alive. He’d probably get a Medal of Honor throwing himself on top a plasma bomb to save her life.
When there was no other noise, she rose above the outcropping where they were hiding. Her thermal vision showed a sinewy shape coiled right in front of her. In the darkness the snake’s diamond-back pattern wasn’t visible, but she knew it had to be a rattlesnake.
She couldn’t move, watching it rise to meet the threat. The snake began rattling, obviously startled to find such a large predator so close.
She didn’t see Brian stand up beside her, though she felt him. He put a warning hand on her arm and she heard the distinct hum of a plasma gun charging up. If he shot it up on the ledge, the light of the plasma shot would immediately alert the green team that someone was hiding here.
Before he could take aim, her hand whipped out to the snake and she grabbed it by the neck. It writhed around, hissing at her, but her grip remained firm. She turned triumphantly in the dark to Brian, the thrill of grabbing the snake rushing in her veins.
He responded by smacking her head.
Now that she had the snake, she wasn’t sure what to do with it. If she just threw it out blindly into the night, it might land on one of her teammates. That wouldn’t win her any friends.
She tossed it into the darkened alcove where they had been crouching and gestured magnanimously to Brian. He shook his head at her and shot it. It writhed in the glow of green plasma, and then lay still, stunned for at least a few hours, or maybe dead. Its low body mass might not survive the shock.
They sank back down to their hiding place, Brian kicking the snake aside. She could tell he wanted to rant and rave at her for being reckless. The fact that he couldn’t say a word was a delicious satisfaction.
In the distance, she heard feet scrambling. Someone on her team was being pursued, and making that much noise, capture would be inevitable. After a few moments, they heard a triumphant, “Gotcha.”
Not good. The next sound was far more subtle, but it still made her blood jump.
Sand compressed under the weight of a careful foot, just above their outcropping. She and Brian moved backwards. He slid his thermal goggles over his eyes and switched them on, looking upward.
She lifted the goggles from her neck and did the same. She couldn’t make out the figure very well, but someone was definitely right above them. Brian knelt down and picked something up from the ground. Her thermal vision showed the faint lines of the warm coil of snake wrapped around his arm. What was he doing?
With the precision of a tight-walking acrobat, Brian crept up the rocks. His toes found the niches of the rocky hill in perfect silence until he was near the edge of the top. He slid the snake off his arm and placed it on the edge, then crept back.
Brilliant. The two of them waited behind a boulder, listening.
The footsteps came closer, and then there was a cry of alarm. The green glow of a plasma gun lit up the darkness.
Brian burst out laughing, his laughter ringing around the cold canyon, giving away their position. So much for winning the exercise.
“You idiot!” Caina cried, and jumped on him, knocking him to the ground.
They were the last ones to be found after all, but Caina was still annoyed at Brian. He kept snickering about the whole thing, especially in the mess hall at breakfast when she retold the story to a crowded table of their teammates.
“And then he laughed! We could have stayed hidden until he did that. It was brilliant right up until then,” she finished, waving a forkful of dehydrated egg.
Geoff shook his head. His usual response to Brian’s goofiness.
“Well, you were the last ones, so it didn’t really matter,” Kasey pointed out. The well-built son of a mine owner, he was deceptively good-natured, hiding a sharp intellect behind his easy smile.
“Still,” she grumbled. “We could have made it to sunrise.”
“Yeah, but why?” Brian asked.
“Exactly, my friend,” Kasey agreed, raising his cup.
Brian bumped the rim of the proffered cup and took a manly swig of orange juice. “That’s what I keep trying to tell her.”
An officer meandered over to their noisy table and they quieted. Sergeant Terrent nodded to them all, unsmiling. The big-boned woman never smiled. Her small, dark eyes flickered over to Brian and Caina. “The captain wants to see you. Now.”
Caina stood up, catching Brian’s gaze.
“And you,” the sergeant added, nodding to Geoff.
Caina walked behind the two brothers across the mess hall towards the command center situated at the back of the hangar. Oh, please let this be good, she thought to herself. The long walk did not help her anxiety. She knew everyone was watching them.
They reached the office, and Geoff rapped on the door. A voice asked them to enter, and Geoff opened the door.
Caina hadn’t been in the office before, but she’d caught glimpses. The walls flashed maps and data. An antiquated metal desk sat in the center of the room, the edges peeling gray paint. Some bit of Old World furniture made valuable because the piece was impossible to get anywhere else. Rather unattractive.
There were no windows, and the lights that shone from the ceiling had a cold, utilitarian glow. Commander Lenoir sat at the desk, his eyes down on a screen in front of him. When they entered, he lifted his gaze.
“We have an offer for you.”
Caina’s heart jumped, but she kept her face impassive, holding her breath. This could be the assignment to the specialized unit she’d been waiting for.
“We’ve had several engagements with the Nostekoi on two of the outer colonies. They have well-trained troops, but there’s an excellent probability we can handle them. However, they have an elite section that far surpasses our training. We don’t know how they are doing it—genetic manipulation; we don’t know. We do know that every member on this particular unit has one common characteristic. Curiously, they all have red eyes. Much like Joshua.”
Caina stopped breathing for a moment. She thought about her brother every day, but she didn’t talk about him, not even with her cousins. It felt like he’d entered the room, and all the pain of the memories resurfaced.
“In fact, we’ve seen Joshua.”
Brian and Geoff were looking at her, she could sense it, but she did not turn her head or take her gaze away from the commander. He leaned towards her, his cool blue eyes unavoidable.
“I need you to help us capture your brother. We need to find out more information about the Nostekoi.”
“Are we planning to rescue him?” she asked, the lump in her throat growing.
“Caina, he isn’t a prisoner. He’s fighting with them. Do you understand? This is capture, not rescue.”
She looked away from him, her eyes fixing on a flickering map on the wall. “No. My brother wouldn’t fight with the Nostekoi.”
“But he is.” The commander turned and touched one of the screens, his finger running down a side menu of files displayed next to the screen.
Footage of a battle appeared on the wall, the images bouncing as the camera followed a black swarm of Nostekoi descending from a flight craft. They were landing on a beach town, the buildings crumbling and smoking in the distance. The red eyes were easy to spot, especially when the Nostekoi removed their helmets. One of them turned to the camera as if he could see it, and then shoved the butt of his plasma gun into the picture. The scene went black.
The commander replayed the scene, and paused it on the Nostekoi who’d looked into the camera.
Caina didn’t need the replay. She’d seen Joshua the moment he’d entered the camera’s field of vision. She knew the way he moved. The expression on his face during the attack betrayed no remorse. Or even interest. What had they done to him? Was that really him at all?
“He’s fighting with them. We need to bring him back,” the commander said.
“Caina doesn’t need to help in this operation. Brian and I will be sufficient bait,” Geoff spoke.
The commander glanced at him. “Yes, the idea is to provide some kind of bait. Or at least distraction. We think that seeing his family would disorient him for a moment, at least. Then we can move in to take him.”
“I want to be there,” Caina said.
“Excellent,” the commander said, giving her a small smile. “We have an idea where they will be next, but we need to move fast. We’ve got a heavy rebellion going on in one of their main colonies, and we’re pretty sure they’ll send the elite team in. Things have been going badly for them there, and that’s when the Red Crew usually shows up.”
“When do we leave, sir?” she asked.
“In an hour.”
When they left the commander’s office, none of them spoke. Caina’s mind flooded with every emotion ranging from the thrill of knowing Joshua still lived to the despair of wondering what had happened to him, and then fear. The commander hadn’t exactly offered any reassurances about what would happen to Joshua when they found him. Getting him out of Nostekoi hands had to be an improvement. She hoped. What if it wasn’t?
“They aren’t going to hurt him once we get him back, are they?” Caina asked .
“The Alliance?” Brian asked, his blonde eyebrows furrowing.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think anyone wants to hurt him,” Geoff said. “But I’m not sure he wants to be back.”
“Hey!” Brian said, his face going red. “There’s no way Joshua is doing this because he wants to. I don’t care what they did to him.”
Geoff shook his head, his long jaw set, his voice quiet. “I’m trying to be realistic. We have to be careful. If Joshua isn’t himself then this is going to be dangerous. Caina shouldn’t even be there.”
“I’ll agree with that,” Brian grumbled, looking sideways at her.
“At least he’s okay,” she said, ignoring the stinging tears in her eyes. She didn’t have time to bawl like a baby right now.
“So let’s go get him,” Geoff said. “We’ll deal with what has happened to him after that.”
Packed up and strapped into the transport, Caina bent her head to look at the floor. She was so afraid of what she would find when they found Joshua. A line of twenty soldiers sat behind her, all of them wearing onix. They’d activate it when they landed. Most of them had their guns set to red plasma; a few were set to green. Five of them. They were the ones who were supposed to retrieve Joshua. What if he killed some of them? Then what?
She could only hope the battle footage hadn’t shown everything. Maybe Joshua was still behind those blank red eyes.