Battle at Zero Point (30 page)

Alfx Sheez lay on his back, at the edge of the crowd, staring up at the stars, terrified by the dawn that was soon to come.

He'd been like this for about an hour now. Alternately cursing and praying, fighting off waves of bitterness, not quite believing his life was going to end here, cooked alive on this bastard planet, with a bunch of wretched people he didn't even know. If only he'd been a better person in the past. Would it have done him any good now?

In between battling these emotions, he could clearly see pin-pricks of light moving high overhead.

Were these the last of the refugee ships leaving orbit, heading for destinations unknown? Or were they something else? Oddly, he thought he could see bright flashes of light coming from somewhere near orbit, too, almost as if a space battle was going on up there. And at one point, he swore he saw first one, then two space-ships plummeting through the thin atmosphere, on fire and trailing debris, presumably crashing hundreds of miles away.

Then he began to see all sorts of things flying overhead, way out, moving very, very fast. Different shapes, different colors. In the distance he thought he heard heavy weapons fire, and at first he wondered who the hell would be shooting at the SG. It wasn't like anyone lived on
Doomsday 212
and had suddenly decided to protect their planet. It was more likely that the REF had finally turned its weapons on the refugees.

That was the only scenario that made sense.

Another hour went by, and the dawn drew closer. The conditions in the small canyon were getting worse. It was growing very hot. Kids were crying. Some of the adults were, too. Fear was rising among the refugees.

Sheez sat up again and resumed whispering the only prayer he knew over and over again, this while continuously watching the SG troopers up in the peaks. They seemed fanatical about guarding their captives, scanning the mob with high-intensity star lamps and viz-screen rays. They had melted several huge weapons into the rock, with muzzles pointed to the heart of the crowd below. Sheez put it all together and came to one sad conclusion: unless something extraordinary happened, the chances of his getting away now were nil.

He began praying even harder, though it didn't seem to be doing any good.

He'd been resting his eyes, head on his knees, mouthing the words of the petition, when something streaked very low over the small canyon.

It was going so fast and was emitting a noise so loud, it literally shook the dust from the hard ground around them. Sheez immediately looked up but only caught the tail end of the object as it disappeared over the horizon. It appeared as if it was totally engulfed in flame. Was this another starship crashing? Or some kind of natural phenomena? Or something else entirely?

There was no way to tell.

But at that exact moment, the still-darkened sky suddenly became alight with something else. It looked like rain at first, coming down from high up in the very thin sky. Red rain. As everyone had been stirred by whatever had just rocketed over them, everyone in the mob saw this coming, too. Flames, smoke, and now an ear-piercing, hellish scream the likes of which Sheez had never heard before.

Then, just as they were about a thousand feet above them, Sheez realized what these things were.

Fire rocks
. The deadly rain of loose particles left over from
Doomsday 212
's deteriorating ring, one of the many things that made the planet a particularly hellish place to be. Though these things fell non-stop at the equator, they were much less prevalent up here in the northern hemisphere. Yet a swarm of the deadly boulders was coming down right on top of them, right now.

Or so it seemed.

Just as the fiery volley was about 500 feet over them, there was another sonic blast, and the formation of fire rocks suddenly began to break up. Instead of coming straight down, they began veering off in all directions; even sideways, some of them.

Then, in a vision that seemed like a dream, the fire rocks began slamming not into the mob of helpless people but into the red-suited SG troopers stationed on the peaks around them!

One by one, the soldiers were picked off, almost as if an invisible hand were directing the fiery chunks at the enormous troopers. Sheez watched in astonishment as the string of kinetic explosions went right around the top of the canyon wall. The noise was tremendous. Each fireball strike was blinding. It was so exhilarating and confusing at the same time, some people in the mob started screaming. What was going on here? How could this be? Sheez wondered. Then it hit him: somehow, some way, his prayer
had
been answered. This was just what he needed.

Without another second of hesitation, he got up and started running.

As he had estimated before, it was at least a 400-yard dash from die edge of the mob to the foot of the ancient ruins. As soon as he took off, Sheez heard some shooting behind him, but he didn't dare turn back to see where it was coming from. He stumbled several times in the waning darkness, badly cutting himself on the hard, rocky ground. But each time he managed to get up, right himself, and start running again.

Somehow he reached the edge of the ruins without having a massive coronary. He was out of breath and his knees were horribly scraped, but he was still in one piece. The ruins turned out to be those of a small settlement. A few dozen structures, made of ancient ion concrete, worn away long ago. But Sheez was hardly an
aficionado
of the past; he never even broke stride. He kept running through the ruins, up what was left of the main avenue, intent on reaching the summit of the small mountain and hopefully some cover beyond.

It took anotüer few minutes of hard climbing and heavy breathing, but reach the top he did. And on the other side of the mountain, he saw the vast rocky plain that stretched from one horizon to another.

But there were hundreds of thousands of refugees down on this plain, strung out in large clusters along the valley floor, with thousands—of REF troops watching over them. Even worse, there were dozens of REF armed shuttlecrafts flying overhead and even a handful of red Star-crashers hovering just a couple hundred feet off the ground. Sheez was crushed. Any thoughts that the other side of the mountain might provide some refuge were dashed, just like that.

Then Sheez heard a disturbing noise coming from behind him. It was loud and pounding, like a stampede. He turned, certain that he would see a small army of REF troopers running up the hill after him.

But he was in for another surprise. There
were
people running up the old avenue behind him, but they weren't SG. It was the rest of the crowd, the mob of refugees from which he'd just escaped. They'd seen him make a break for it and had followed right behind him. This was not good. He could see a certain look in the eyes of the first dozen people climbing up to him, and as a politician, he knew that look well. These people had misinterpreted his act of cowardice for one of courage, and now they wanted him to lead them to safety. And that was the last thing Alfx Sheez wanted to do.

The first group of refugees reached the summit and begged him for help, begged him to save them all.

Sheez looked back into the valley before him; there had to be at least 50,000 REF soldiers within sight alone. There was no way he could go down there, alone or with the mob. But he couldn't stay up here, either.

Off to his left, to the north, about a quarter of a mile away, the ridge they were on split in two.

Between the two high grounds was another canyon, this one holding a patch of overhead vegetation, extremely rare on the planet. It was brown and it was dying, but it was also cover from the REF and maybe even the coming heat of day. Sheez thought about simply making a break for this sanctuary alone, but then something stopped him—
physically
stopped him—as if an invisible hand had taken hold of his chest and was preventing him from moving another step in any direction. The crowd was now bunching up on the hilltop and on the trail below. They were presenting themselves as a huge target. He had no doubt that if the REF saw them, they would simply blast them all away.

Sometimes life forces you to be a hero
, he heard a voice whisper in his ear. He spun around, yet no one was there. A shudder went through him. He had heard those words so clearly. He turned back to the growing crowd of people reaching the top of the ridge. And that's when it dawned on him: the only way he was going to save himself was to save all of the other refugees along with him. And that's when the invisible hand let him go.

"OK!" he finally yelled. "Everyone follow me!"

The crowd stole along the narrow ridge and began climbing down into the gorge without being detected by the REF.

Sheez did his best to pick out the safest path for them to travel. There were so many women and kids in his troupe, he found himself helping just about all of them over the roughest spots. All the while he was keeping an eye on valley to the east. The REF troopers were still coming in by the shipload; the thousands of refugees below looked puny in comparison. Sheez was also on the lookout for any REF troopers that might have survived the incredibly fortuitous fall of fire rocks back in the three-sided canyon. He even went so far as to run back to the rear of the escape column to make sure no one was following them. Or, if they were, he'd be the first one they'd try to shoot.

It took them more than an hour, but somehow, all of the refugees made it down into the hidden canyon and under the cover of dead vegetation. Sheez carried the last kid down into the gorge himself.

There
, he thought,
my heroic duty is done
.

But as soon as he reached the bottom of the gorge, he was in for a surprise: there were about four thousand refugees already hiding under the vegetation. Again, mostly women and kids, they were from other groups dumped by the REF nearby. Remarkably, they, too, had, escaped their captors by way of a near-miraculous event. One group had been freed when a land-slide, caused by some kind of sonic boom, crushed the contingent of REF troopers guarding them but not harming any of the refugees.

Another group had been penned up inside a force field when a bolt of lightning hit the generating unit maintaining the invisible jail, once again killing their captors but not harming any of them. Others swore that men with wings appeared to them, telling them to make it to this gorge, where they would find a man who would lead them out of mis wilderness.

Men with wings
? Sheez thought wildly.
Were they talking about me
?

He was immediately barraged with questions from these new refugees as to what they should all do now. Problem was, Sheez had no idea. He'd been fully intending to take off on his own from here, having done his good deed. But then that same invisible hand returned and began pounding him fiercely on his chest.

It's up to you
, he heard a voice say, again as if someone was whispering in his ear.

Sheez spun around and, just like before, there was no one standing behind him. But again, he found it impossible to move. If anything, the hand pushing on his chest felt heavier.

This time he got the message quick enough.

He had to lead these lost people across the expanse for at least a little while longer.

The morning finally came, and the weak sun appeared. But the coverage of the dead vegetation kept the mob of refugees safe and relatively cool, especially in the initial heat of the day. Sheez wasn't sure how long this sanctuary would hold up, though, especially with so many people now crowded inside. At some point the REF would realize that a lot of their hostages were missing, and they would come looking for them. Then what?

As the others tried to stay hidden, Sheez slithered to top of the ridge and studied the REF in the vast valley below. The number of refugees down there had swelled again, as had the red-uniformed troops watching over them. Some of these soldiers were right at the bottom of the mountain now, no more than a 500 feet below.

If the REF ever found them up here, it would be a massacre—a short and quick one. But where else could they go?

Water was their most critical need. The ridgeline ran all the way to the northern horizon, and Sheez reasoned the farther north they went, the better the chances they would reach a snowline, and then maybe even a frozen lake or stream. The trouble was, in many places the ridgeline veered extremely close to the valley full of REF, and all it would take was for one kid to cry out or one old person to stumble, and the game would be up.

So it was a choice to either wait here and die or try their luck by moving hopefully toward water. And it was up to him to decide. Sheez's heart was pounding, he was scared shitless, but the voice in his ear was getting louder all the time.

Just keep moving
, it said.
These people are counting on you
.

So move they did. Sheez got everyone on their feet, and they all climbed out of the gorge and up to the ridgeline again.

Staying low and walking as quickly as possible, they headed north. The sun grew higher, but a weak wind kicked up, and it seemed to lessen the effects of the heat. Sheez stationed the strongest men he could find at crucial points along the route; they would help those who were too weak or feeble to walk along the roughest parts of the ridge, and then turn them over to the man at the next station and so on.

This way they were able to keep the line moving while making sure no one would be left behind.

The ridgeline provided a natural path, and sometimes it was wide enough for several people to walk abreast. Sheez always took the lead, though. It was very unlike him to be courageous, but something very odd was happening here. Damned if Sheez knew what it was, with voices in his head and the hand pounding on his chest, but somehow, some way, he had become
responsible
. And it was just too strong for him to fight. So, if there was any trouble up ahead, he wanted to be the first one to see it. And if anyone was going to fire on them, it was only right that he take the first blast.