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MILA
Through the screen of lashing wind and swirling snow, the black barrier surrounding Vel juts from the ice and into the sky. Oozing a sense of dread and foreboding, there’s good reason why this, one of the last enclaves still intact, carries such a mysterious reputation. No one from the outside has ever entered this place. At least, none has done so and lived to spin the tale of it. What barren hell awaits us if we enter into this dark fortress? Is there even anyone alive in there?
I approach the wall and remove a glove, my bare fingers sliding over black steel, smooth and bitter cold to the touch. What secrets lie within? Why would Gil reach out to me after all this time? Too many questions to entertain. We have a duty to act on the information we have. Gil is here and he knows something about the nuclear stockpile all of my enemies seem to desire—Vedmak chief among them. He, most of all, cannot be allowed to access an object of such unnerving power.
“What are we doing?” Husniya asks.
I slip my glove back on. “We’ve got to find a way in. Do you see anything?”
The teen twists, her feet sliding in the slush as she examines the towering fortress wall. “No. Nothing but the wall. There aren’t even seams. It’s as if it is formed from one solid continuous sheet of metal.”
“Exactly.” I huff a cloud of steam into the air. “Which means we have to look for something out of place.” I appraise my small but determined group of well-equipped fighters. “Mos, you and Hus take eight with you and go left. Ghofaun you and I will take the rest to the right.” I pull two tarnished but functional emergency flare pistols from my satchel, handing one to Mos. “Shoot your flare if you find something. Hold until the rest of us can catch up. Assuming we can get in, we only move on Vel together. Everyone clear?” The group responds in kind. “Good, let’s do it.”
“No,” Husniya says as if to herself. She mumbles something indiscernible under her breath but leaves alongside Mos before I can question her.
I don’t know what she’s going through and I can’t help her. Not if she won’t confide in me. The loss of her brother was the final straw. She’s cracking under the strain. A snowflake sticks to my eyelash. I wipe it free and touch the old photo of my brother and me, tucked neatly inside my pocket. Don’t lose your resolve now, Mila. “You ready, Master Ghofaun?”
He gives me a thumbs up.
Minutes tick past as my boots plunge again and again into the fresh powder. We scan the dark foreboding monstrosity that surrounds Vel. There is nothing of note. Just an unending and unyielding barricade of cold black steel. Who made this, anyway?
A pop echoes in the distance. Ghofaun gives me a nudge. High above the fortress wall, Mos’s flare arcs across the sky with a brilliant red glow. At its zenith, it drops, fading and fizzing as it falls back to Earth.
“That’s it, guys. They’ve got something. Double time it back the way we came.”
It takes longer than expected to make Mos and his team, but the slog is worth it. He’s standing in what looks like the doorway to an external bunker, a couple of clicks out from the wall. It seems to be made of the same steel.
“What is it?” I ask. My heart flutters with anticipation, lungs still burning from the cold and double-time marching through knee-high drifts.
“It’s a door.” Mos shrugs. “To what, we don’t know yet.”
“It was cracked like this? Or did you do something?” I ask.
“We haven’t touched it,” Mos replies.
We push in through the door, guns up, scanning every inch for danger. But there’s nothing inside save a small table, chair, and an old-fashioned stove with a cooking pot. A heavily armed bunker to protect this?
Mos holds up a couple of used auto-injectors.
“Stims,” I say. “So, where’s the user?”
“Do Velians even use stims?” Mos asks, eyeing the thread of pinkish liquid in the bottom of the injector.
“Some do,” I say, my mind drifting back to my scheduled meetings with Gil. He was always stoned.
“Yes, I see it,” Husniya says to no one in particular, as she pushes past me.
“See what?” I grunt.
“The opening in the floor,” she replies.
My eyes widen. There’s no way I should have missed that, but I had. Right smack in the middle of the room it sits, still ajar.
“It has a keypad next to it,” Mos says, crouching down. “And it’s already been opened. Without force.”
I wave over a couple of our men who point their guns at the hatch.
Mos whips it back and for an instant, everyone stops breathing.
Only a square black hole stares back.
“I got this,” Mos says.
Before I can protest, he’s already dropped down inside.
“It’s a tunnel,” he calls up. “Pretty narrow. We can make it through side-by-side.”
I sling my weapon and climb in after him. The cold, damp tunnel is dark and oppressive but thankfully empty. Everyone drops in with ease—all but Zaldov. He takes a moment to calculate the movement, then hops over the edge, landing with the thud-hiss of mechanical parts absorbing the impact of the short drop. The loud noise in this confined space causes my breath to catch in my lungs.
“Want to make some more noise?”
“I do not believe making more noise would be advisable,” he says.
I expel a breath. “No, Zaldov, it’s definitely not advisable.”
We trek along in relative silence. The only sounds are the light swishing and jangling of gear, Zaldov’s marching, and Husniya’s soft murmurings, presumably to herself. The incline increases. Myself at the fore, we trudge up the hard-packed earthen ramp to a ladder extending through another hatch above. We scale the ladder entering into another jet-black chamber, the only identifiable way forward, a crack of light in the opposite wall. Another door left open? It looks immensely heavy. I wait for the others to make the top of the ladder.
“Zaldov, pull it open,” I say, my eyes wide, prepared for anything.
Zaldov heaves, his mechanical fingers peeling back the heavy door. The growing brightness seems to sear my retinas.
“That’s not possible,” Mos says, his voice but a whisper.
Stepping through the opening and beneath an arched alcove, sunlight shines down upon my face. Before us lay sweeping hills of green, gently rolling down to a lake that shimmers and glints. Mouth open, eyes wide, I wander out onto the magical sunlit hillside. Pulling my gloves off, I sink to the ground, tiny blades of grass—real grass—slipping between my numb fingers. There is a sweet smell in the air I can’t place. It fills my throat and sticks in my nostrils.
Mos is belly-laughing. “In all my years, I never thought I’d see such a thing.”
The Kahangan and I make eye contact and I can’t help but release an incredulous chuckle.
Ghofaun and Husniya follow, then one by one my fighters trickle in, awe and wonder written on their dirty faces. It’s as if we were given a taste of heaven.
I dig past the grass, through the roots and into the soil and push the moist brown clumps through my fingers. “It’s real, I can’t believe it. Some sort of self-contained environment or greenhouse. All this time, hidden right before our eyes.”
“No wonder it’s built like a fortress,” Mos says. “Who wouldn’t want to live here?”
“How is this possible?” I ask. “Robusts wouldn’t have had the tech or resources to pull this off. The Velians must have had help. And this sort of tech only comes from one place.” My gaze drifts upward.
“Why would Graciles build this for the Velians?” Ghofaun says, his narrow eyes becoming knife-like slits.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “But Gil’s been holding out on me.”
Ghofaun takes a small step back. “I’m not sure I like this, Mila. Something doesn’t feel right with this place.”
“What’s not to like?” Mos replies.
“No, he’s right,” I say. There’s a tinge of smoke in the air, a hint of decay. And not a single sound other than us. I rise to my feet, my brow knitted together. “Where are the Velians?”
“Mila Solokoff, may I be of service?” Zaldov approaches, his boots leaving deep impressions in the grass.
“Yes, tell me about this place. Make it the short version, Zaldov.”
“One moment, searching outdated Gracile information archives,” his monotone voice buzzes, his head twitching. “Formed when the first people fled to Etyom from all over the world, Vel is the first and oldest enclave. Sealed off from the rest of the survivors, it was initially a haven for the rich and powerful, intended to be the home of the future Graciles. That was before the creation of the lillipads. After the Graciles moved their people above the clouds, a small segment of middle-class Robusts were left in charge of the enclave. The Graciles allowed them to live here and cultivate the land in autonomy in exchange for seventy-five percent of all the food and energy they could produce. This arrangement lasted for a long time.”
“Unbelievable.” I force out a coarse laugh. “I knew there was something weird going on in this place.”
“The Graciles got all their food?” Husniya asks.
“Almost, yes,” Zaldov replies, turning to her. “Transferred to them through the lillipad stem via a high-speed magnetic rail elevator.” Zaldov motions to the lillipads’ support structure rising from the earth on the other side of the lake where it disappears through the fake sky above us.
“Wait, energy? What energy?” I ask.
“Nuclear,” Zaldov replies, pointing to the building with high walls and smoke stacks down in the valley ahead.
“Son of a—” Mos starts.
“There’s no stockpile,” I say. “It’s a full-on nuclear power plant. Zaldov, have you known this all along?”
“No, I had to perform a search of the archives via the neural web—”
“No, I mean you could have told us this all along,” I interrupt.
“Yes, but you did not inquire until now, Mila Solokoff.”
I cross my arms, flicking a strand of hair from my face. “Okay, find out everything you can on Vedmak. His location, his plan, base of operations, anything.”
“Technically, Vedmak does not exist.”
“Demitri Stasevich, then.”
The Creed’s head twitches. “There is nothing, Mila Solokoff. Only an old surveillance video feed from Zopat. That was days ago.”
Damnation.
“So, where’s Gil?” Mos interjects.
I unzip my jacket and survey the unusual space again. “He didn’t say. He’s gotta be here somewhere. Let’s head down into the valley and start looking. Keep an eye out. If Vedmak is here, he won’t come quietly. Trust me.”
***
Down the hills of sweeping green, we march toward the lake. The blue sky above, though littered with unlit panels, seems to mesmerize everyone—everyone but Ghofaun. He looks worried. I can’t blame him. We’ve yet to see another living soul.
Husniya giggles from behind.
A quick glance and there she is with a smile on her weary face, staring up at Zaldov.
“What? Did I make a joke?” Zaldov says, searching her features.
“No.” She stifles another giggle.
“Then what? I want to learn,” Zaldov says.
“You said, ‘hopefully the Rippers won’t do us.’” She snorts and adjusts her rifle. “I think you meant: do us in.”
“Oh,” Zaldov says, blinking.
When was the last time she laughed like that with me? But, then who am I to her? Mother? Big sister? Teacher? Don’t be so selfish, Mila. She needs the outlet and a robot is better than no one. Even if the thing is just a soulless pile of walking junk.
Reaching the edge of the first cottage-style house, I raise a flat palm to the team. They fan out and take up kneeling positions of security on the corner of the house. The doorframe is cracked, the simple wooden latch distorted and hanging loose.
“Mos, Rinji, Jape.” I point to each of them. “On me. Use caution, the door’s been forced.”
They fall in behind me as we slip into the small dwelling. Dust and decay hang in the air of this place like the soured memory of something that had been good once. Simple tables and chairs lie broken and scattered. The remnants of old produce and foodstuffs rot on the cluttered floor.
“Ransacked.” Jape glances at me.
“Check the back room,” I say, plucking an old black and white photograph from amidst the garbage at my feet. It’s a family of four. They’re smiling, the father dressed in miner’s gear. The look of optimism on his face like the one my brother used to wear. Zevry ...
“Mila,” Mos interrupts. He waves me to the back, his hand covering his mouth and nose.
Renji steps out of a room, gagging and sputtering. I peer around the edge of the door. There they are, three of them, pinched into the back corner on the opposite wall from the splintered door. The mother’s horrified eyes are locked open, her mouth hanging wide in a silent scream, her arms clutched around her children in a state of frozen rigor. All of their throats have been slashed. Dried blood, black and mottled, clings in congealed rivers down their fronts.
“Sweet Moses.” I gasp and turn from the room. There’s no longer any doubt—Rippers were here. Maybe still here. “Come on, we got to keep moving.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” Mos says.
Renji pukes outside the door.
Ghofaun looks to me. “Everything okay?”
“They’ve been dead a while. Definitely the work of Rippers and it looks like they sacked this whole place. Everyone, stay on your guard and don’t take any chances. They’re probably still around.”
“I think that’s a fair bet.” Husniya points to the largest structure closer to the lake. Smoke pours from the chimney of the regal-but-dilapidated abode. Straining my ears, I hear something, like a low chorus of moaning coming from the place.
“What is that?” I step past Husniya.
“I don’t like it,” Ghofaun says, his voice low. “Mila, what are we doing here?”
“Everybody, keep it together. Stay low, weapons ready,” I reply.
In pairs of two, we dart forward from building to building, crossing the false idyllic countryside. We crouch at the edge of the closest building. The moaning and wailing has grown unbearable, the sound of wounded souls seeking escape. The hairs on my arms prickle. What in creation is going on here?
We round the front of the house, but stay low and huddle in the shadow of a few nearby trees and bushes.
“What sort of deviance is this?” Mos says.
Our people cry out in disbelief, exchanging worried glances.
Nailed to the wooden exterior are the body parts of a man. The legs, torso, arms, and head are aligned to form a grotesque jigsaw puzzle, ultimately resembling a whole person. But it’s not just any person. It’s Gil. His eyes are wide, staring blankly into space. A metal stake protrudes from the wooden panel and out through his open mouth.
“Bastards,” I mutter under my breath.
Two Ripper warriors exit the front doors and with howls of rage, sprint off in the direction of the power plant.
“They’ve made this place their home.” My stomach clenches in anticipation of what’s to come. We won’t get another chance at the element of surprise.
I check my weapon, my fingers twitching. “Okay, listen up. We can’t circumvent this. We have to eliminate the Ripper presence here.” All eyes turn to me. I swallow, the saliva sticking in my throat. “We press forward in wedge-formation. Once we have our ambush set, we hold until there’s a threat. Don’t give them the upper hand and don’t hesitate to take them down if they try to secure weapons.”
“Mila.” Ghofaun touches my sleeve. “Look at the body. The parts are sliced too cleanly—”
I pull my arm away. “Is everyone clear?”
My comrades acknowledge, ready their weapons, and secure extra magazines.
One last check of my gear. The stubby old-world sub-machine gun feels heavier than ever. I disconnect the drum magazine, check that it’s full and the rounds are properly seated and reattach it with a snap. “Husniya, get a clear line of sight. Take security with you.”
“Yeah, I got it. I don’t need you to tell me,” she says, tapping her forehead and moving with Zaldov to another simple two-story building off to our right.
With everyone ready, I urge part of my forces to flank the right side of the building. But, before they can get in position, the door swings wide and a Ripper exits. He stands there, face-to-face with us, broken teeth bared in rage. A shot rings out and the creature tumbles back, clutching a mortal chest wound.
“I got ’em,” Jape calls out.
Screams, shrill and terrible, erupt from inside.
A wild stomping of feet fills the air, the sound like the beating of many drums as the Rippers inside surge for the door.
“Get ready!” I shout.
Firebombs made with old glass bottles filled with sloop and stuffed with rags are lit by my anxious fighters.
“Burn them out.” Jape yells out, lighting a bottle.
“Wait!” I cry.
But the fighters are deaf to my call. The flaming bottles fly through the windows, breaking with flashes of fire. The screams inside intensify into a bawling wail of madness as the mass of deranged creatures pours from the house toward us.
I hold my weapon at the ready, but can’t bring myself to fire. Something isn’t right.
A blaze of metallic rattling fills the air as my people fire on the emerging Rippers, the concussion drowning out the death screams of the ragged people. Tumbling and spinning, their bodies fall into piles forward of the threshold.
Oh, Yeos no. “Stop, we have to stop,” I say, though the words are barely audible.
Flames lick from the windows, curling into black fingers of twisting smoke. Faster now, the blazing inferno envelops the large building, tongues of fire gushing from the doors and windows.
“Mos,” I yank on his arm. “Make them stop!”
“Cease fire,” Mos calls. “Cease fire, right now!”
As the cacophony subsides, it is replaced with the sound of terrified screams. A wave of nausea hits me alongside the realization. They are the screams of children.
“What have we done?” Ghofaun shouts.
Oh, Yeos, no. It’s not possible. It can’t be. I scan the warriors on the ground before us, except not a single one of them carries a weapon and ... My stomach clenches and vomit spews from my lips.
“Oh, by the heavens,” Mos says, his eyes full of pain. “These are unarmed women. Their children must be inside. We have to get them out. Ghofaun, help me get them out.”
Our fighters back away, looking to each other for reassurance. But there is none to be found as the last of the child’s screams fades into the crackling flames of the collapsing structure. This can’t be happening. Rippers don’t have children—do they? I vomit again into the grass, littered with shining brass cases. What have we done?
A furious sound born of the depths of hell fills the air. On the peak of a nearby hill stands a pack of Ripper males, screaming and rattling their melee weapons. They hurtle down the hill toward us, crossing the distance with reckless abandon.
Mos seizes my arm. “Mila.”
Can't see. Can’t move. Everything is numb. “Mos, I didn’t know there were children. I didn’t mean to ...”
“Mila, we’ve got to go now or we’re all dead.”
I’m being shoved toward the nearest dwelling, the one where Husniya now leans through an upper window, taking precision shots at stray Rippers as they barrel forward. Through the doorway and into the musty abode I stumble. The door slams shut and the crossbar comes down with a thud. Mos barks commands. Our team opens fire through the windows.
Mos turns to me, gripping my shoulders in his meaty hands. “Go. Find Husniya.”
“O-okay,” I say, swallowing back bile.
“Mila!” Mos yells, inches from my face. “Snap out of it.”
“Yeah ... Yeah, okay.”
Ghofaun, his face covered in shadow, pushes past me with a group of fighters and heads for the stairs.
The rickety door to the house creaks and flexes as the Rippers slam into it again and again. They howl with a lust for blood, hellbent on taking our heads. Resistance fighters shout and clamor as the savages crash through the dusty glass windows of the cottage. My people lock in hand-to-hand combat with the encroaching mob. The entrance door cracks and gives way and, with a wild battle cry, Mos charges into the midst of the invaders.
“Move your ass, Mila,” Mos calls from somewhere within the scrum.
I jerk to life and make it to the top of the stairs in a few strides. “Husniya.”
“Here,” calls the teenager from a room at the end of the narrow hallway. “Where’s Mos?”
“He’s coming. Mos!” I shout.
The Kahangan reaches the top step, spins and kicks the closest Ripper in the chest. The force sends the brute tumbling into the pack that follows but they keep coming. Mos falls into the room and we slam the door shut, shoving a barricade of furniture against it.
Gasping for breath, Mos leans against the wall. “If they keep at it, they’ll get in. Sooner or later.”
Ghofaun can only nod.
I can feel my dismay turning to anger. My furious gaze rests on Jape, lungs heaving, leaning against a wall across the room.
“What the hell?” I say, squaring off. “I told you to wait.”
“No,” Jape says, his eyes resolute, “you said not to let them get the upper hand. That’s what we did.”
“There were children in there, Jape. Children!” My eyes well and I step forward, separated from Jape by a few fighters who try to hold me back. “You know better. You should have waited for my command.”
“You didn’t seem too eager to stop us, Mila. You knew what had to be done.” Jape looks down and checks his weapon.
“I tried to tell you.” The words fade from my lips and I wipe at my eyes.
The burning building filled with dead Ripper children calls to me through the room’s only window. Innocents, Mila. My lungs tighten and eyes sting with bitter tears. You’re a murderer, Mila.
Thick black smoke billows from the torched building. It snakes out and away on a light breeze, pointing like some terrible, shadowy finger. Directing my attention to something moving on the horizon. A man, exiting the power plant with a large lockable trunk propped on his shoulder.
No, it’s not a man—it’s Vedmak. He twists his head left and right, searching for danger. Apparently satisfied, he lurches from the building and hobbles toward the abandoned quarry beyond.
Before I can reconcile my actions, the butt of the sub-gun crashes through the glass of the window.
“Mila, what are you doing?” Husniya shrieks.
“Listen to me.” I throw the gun to the floor. “Get clear of this place. When you do, come find me in the quarry.”
“Where are you going?” Mos clenches his teeth. “You’re leaving us?”
“I have to, Mos. I have to try and stop him.”
Stepping through the window, I launch myself from the ledge and just barely snag the rim of the place across the lane. Pulling myself up, the brittle clay shingles crack and crunch beneath my boots. A few uneasy strides and I’m at the roof’s apex.
“Mila, wait,” Husniya calls out the window.
Can’t talk now. Vedmak must be stopped. It’s the only thing that matters.
Before she can protest further, I vault from the edge of the roof and land on the lip of the adjoining structure with a crack of disintegrating shingles. A spear whips past, almost causing me to lose balance. Below, a small group of Rippers track my movements. Damnation. From roof-to-roof, I jump, balancing across the narrow peaks of rounded shingles only to jump again. The Rippers howl in pursuit.
An ear-shattering boom erupts from the false sky overhead. Powdered glass floats to the ground in a shower of tiny diamonds. A Creed strike-ship drops through the blasted hole, its engines whining. The vessel banks hard, circling around to land close, on the edge of the quarry. Vedmak hobbles faster.
Sard it all to hell, he’s going to escape.
The Rippers’ attention is newly occupied. The group tracking me now runs screaming toward the deranged Gracile. Vedmak shoves the crate on board through a sliding side door. Then, on his command, six Graciles wearing Creed exo-skeletons exit the ship’s rear loading-ramp and open fire on the Rippers with their plasma rifles. Wicked blue bolts rocket from the sleek metallic weapons. The energy projectiles knife through the air, obliterating the screaming Rippers.
This is my chance.
Another leap and I land on the last roof of this row. Ahead, a spiraling road descends into the dark quarry beyond. Sprinting to the edge, I reach into my satchel, draw out the emergency flare gun, and cock the hammer back. Flying from the roof, I extend my arm, aiming with one eye pinched, the flare firing forth with a popping sound. Landing with a grunt I toss the pistol and roll to my feet, my stride steady. The red flare streaks over the heads of the Gracile combatants, bounces off the loading ramp and flips straight into the cab of the strike ship. The pilot loses his mind, swatting and stamping as Vedmak makes for the door, but he’s not in time. The strike-ship lurches forward, spinning off into the quarry, red-tinged smoke billowing from the open rear gate.
Abandoned, Vedmak spins, his eyes furious. He doesn’t see me until it’s too late. A scream of fury on my lips, I slam into his side, hitting him low in his pelvic axis.
His eyes widen as I drive him back. “There you are, you little bitch!”
“Everything is your fault. I’ll destroy you!” I scream.
Vedmak’s feet slip on the rim of the crater. He grabs a fistful of my hair and tumbles, shrieking, into the mineshaft below. Together we fall suspended in the dark until, with a sickening jolt, my breath is knocked from me.
