Strikeforce (8 page)

15

Cassius's feet nearly collided with the strange vessel. They plummeted so close to its hull that he could clearly see his terrified expression reflected back at him against the silver metal.

Their parachute landed on the ground in a mess, mere yards from the base of the ship. Madame undid the bands holding them together. Cassius was too shell shocked to do much of anything.

When they were freed, he fell to his knees, hands in the dirt. He breathed heavy, exhausted from conjuring and maintaining a flame for so long.

Eva stood and staggered away from the enormous ship. They'd landed right in front of it, positioned so that it rose up in a diagonal away from them. Even at an angle, the vessel seemed taller than any building Cassius had ever seen. When he stood and peered up, it looked almost like an endless silver slide, stretching into the heavens.

Behind them lay a pile of dirt and rock, exhumed from the impact of the ship's pointed nose burrowing into the ground.

“What is it?” Eva asked after a few moments of silent observation.

Madame neared closer to Cassius, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Did you see where it came from? One moment the sky was clear. The next … ”

“It's the Authority,” Cassius whispered, the strength of his voice stolen by their daring escape. “It has to be.”

“We're too close,” Eva said. “If there are Drifters inside, we're in trouble.”

Cassius didn't take his eyes off the metal. He waited for it to shift or transform, for some sort of door to appear and release whomever was inside.

But all was silent. If the ship was occupied, there certainly wasn't a sign of it.

Far behind them, the ruins of Atlas smoldered. A cloud of smoke rose into the air, adding to the haze caused by all the dust in the Fringes. Beyond that, they were too far away now to hear or see anything of note. Too far to help any of the survivors, either. The Fringe heat started to get to him.Madame pointed up.

“Look at the sky.”

Cassius peered into the blue. “I don't see anything.”

“Exactly.”

His heart fell at the realization of it. Usually, when standing on the Surface, he could see at least two or three Skyships, even if they were little more than small dots. Without any clouds, he should be able to notice them immediat
ely.

But the sky was empty. No Skyships in the distance. No shuttles or cruisers.

Atlas had sunk. So had everything else.

“They immobilized it all.” Madame's voice was quiet. “Brought it down in one quick move. They turned this into a ground war.”

Eva shook her head. “We don't know that for sure. The Skyships are … well, they're designed to withstand things like this.”

“Things like what?” Cassius began walking away from them. “An alien invasion? Obviously the Tribunal didn't see any of this coming.”

He moved farther away. His reflection distorted as he neared the shiny siding of the vessel. Carefully, he reached forward and pressed his hand against the metal. He closed his eyes, half-expecting to be shocked or burned or something.

Instead, it felt perfectly normal under his fingers. The only thing that struck him as slightly off was the temperature. In comparison to the atmosphere around him, the metal felt
pleasantly warm, but not hot. He knew that normal
metal—even after a few minutes in the Fringes—became almost unbearable to touch.

“Cassius.” Madame's concerned voice came from behind him. “I wouldn't.”

He turned. “Wouldn't what? Touch it?”

“You don't know what kind of defenses this craft may be equipped with.”

“I don't see anything.” He glanced behind him again, eyes tracing the length of the vessel. The top end climbed beyond his vision, growing hazy the farther away it stretched.

“Exactly,” she whispered. “Just because you don't see it doesn't mean that everything's safe. There could be invisible traps.”

He turned back to the ship, pressing his hands on the metal once more. The temperature hadn't changed. “I want to see what's inside.”

“No,” she said. “We have a mission, Cassius. A plan.”

“You mean
had
a mission,” he responded. “It didn't work. Time for Plan B.”

“You know fully well that we have no Plan B.”

He leaned in closer, staring at his expression in the silver reflection. “We do now.”

Eva stepped up beside them. “We need to contact the others. Tell them what's happened.”

“Go ahead,” he replied. “You've got a com-pad, don't you? Call up Fisher. Meanwhile, we're here. Could be the base of the enemy. We could be right in the thick of it. Maybe it's the opportunity we've been waiting for.”

Madame laid a hand on his shoulder. “And if we were to attempt a break-in, how do you suppose we get in? I see no doors.”

Without responding, he began to skirt the perimeter of the ship. It was nearly as wide as a city block, so he moved fast. Fast enough to be out of earshot.

But Madame wouldn't let him. She followed close behind, pecking at his patience with little annoyed noises. Starts of sentences that she couldn't finish.

Halfway around the ship, Cassius felt the metal tremble under his fingers.

Shocked, he bolted back and stared at the underside of the vessel, which now climbed above their heads, dwarfing them in an enormous shadow.

Something blossomed far above them. Cassius watched as a ring of steam issued from the perimeter of the ship, half a mile up. It emanated from somewhere within. Streams of white clouds flowed along the surface of the metal, far enough in the sky that it didn't immediately threaten them. Still, something was happening. Cassius wanted to see it closer.

The steam stopped suddenly. It evaporated in the air, silent and invisible.

Madame took a step back, keeping her eyes on the ship. “What was that all about?”

Cassius shook his head.

Before he could speak, something new issued from the metal.

It dripped from within—long black torrents that spilled down the sides of the craft like an overflowing cup. It clung to the metal as it descended. At the angle it fell, it should have dripped right down to the earth, but something held it in place.

“Oil?” Madame squinted to better focus.

“No,” Cassius said. He knew exactly what the substance was. Only one thing could be so pure in its void of color, so otherworldly in its movement. He'd fought for his life against it only weeks ago. Under the control of the right Shifter, it was incredibly dangerous.

Ridium.

He'd recognize it anywhere. Impossibly black, it came down in thick tendrils—dozens around the perimeter of the ship. It didn't exist naturally on Earth, only on Haven. And it could be used for almost anything. Most notably: killing.

It slid down in silence until it reached the ground. Cassius backed up, pushing Madame with him. He feared it would stretch toward them and engulf their bodies. Instead, it plunged into the dirt, coursing under the crust until it disappeared completely.

Madame slid in front of him to get a better look.

“It's everywhere,” Cassius said. “Matigo had it buried on Earth during the Scarlet Bombings. The red mist may have covered the atmosphere, but it was black seeping in our soil. He can control it. Build weapons. Slice us in two. Anything. I'd step away if I were you.”

She turned to glance at him, confusion on her face. “This is the substance that once formed your bracelet, isn't it?”

He nodded. “And if there's a Shifter around, we're as good as dead.”

Eva came rushing around the corner of the ship, careful not to get too close to the still-streaming Ridium. “I tried calling Fisher.” She glanced at the thick stuff, face souring. “What's it doing now?”

“Another Ridium deposit,” Cassius answered. “We shouldn't stay in one place for too long, though. Remember what happened outside of the swarm?”

Eva winced, glancing at the ground. “Black blades.”

Cassius remembered watching Matigo's son, Theo, summon the element from the ground, fatally stabbing a group of Skyship Agents in the process. “We don't want to end up like the
m.”

She took a deep breath. “Fisher wasn't there, Cassius.” She bit her lip. “Nobody answered when I called.”

“You try Avery?”

“Nobody,” she said.

“Skandar?”

“I tried every line I could think of trying.”

Madame backed away from the vessel. “They were on the Surface, at least. The Authority couldn't have brought them down.”

Eva shook her head. “You better be right.”

As the last of the Ridium cascaded into the ground, everything fell still.

Cassius balled his hands. “We're not safe out here, but we can't fly, either. We're going inside.” He gritted his teeth and conjured fire. “Get behind me.”

“Are you crazy?” Madame said. “It's a shot in the dark, Cassius.”

She was right, of course, but he'd learned never to assume he knew anything about how Haven or the Authority worked.

Sparks along his fingers ignited into a small fireball, searing the air around him. A blast at this close a range might be enough to make a dent in the ship's surface.

He'd never find out. Before any fire left his hand, the wall collapsed in front of him.

Or rather, it opened up.

Metal folded on itself, though Cassius noticed no lines or seams as it moved. It was almost as if it disappeared— evapor
ated—right before their eyes.

When the last of the metal had retreated, they were left with an oval-shaped opening, the size of a large door. Beyond that were a set of stairs, rising steep into the darkness of the vessel.

It was too easy. A trap?

He turned to Madame to ask her.

He didn't get a chance. An incredible suction issued from beyond the door, sudden and very powerful. It took Cassius off guard. Nobody could do anything.

His feet soon left the ground, no longer under his control. One by one, they were sucked through the door and into the ship.

16

I muffle a scream as the stranger drags me through the sky, propelled so fast that my mind can't keep up with the horror and adrenaline pumping through the rest of me. My stomach doesn't even have time to be sick.

He released my shoulder some time ago, and now grips onto my hand as he pulls me onward. Terrified of falling, I clutch both hands around his fingers. His grip is steel tight, unwilling to let me go.

The world tilts and flips underneath as he brings us in a sudden loop, heading back down to the Surface.

Three feet away, he releases his hold on me.

I collide with the dirt, rolling on my side several times. When I finally settle, my clothes and hair are covered in
brown dust.

I lie on my stomach, exhausted both physically and mentally. The seesaw sickness of my sudden escape/kidnapping catches up to me and threatens to bring nausea with it. Instead, I cough, which only sends more dust up my throat as I gasp for air. By the time I work my way to a sitting position, the man is standing right in
front of me.

He stares down, intense curiosity in the one eye that's not covered by the patch. After a moment, he offers a hand to help me up. When I grab hold again, I'm brought to my feet with a great lurch, faster and stronger than I would have done on my own.

“What the hell?!?” I start shouting without even realizing what I must sound like to the guy. “You left Avery back there! She could be—”

The man holds up a hand, palm out. I flinch. The gesture quiets me mid-sentence, just from the intensity of it. The next words come out far more reserved. “We have to go back and get her. She's important to me.”

Without a word, the stranger brings down his hand, then turns and moves away, feet tromping through the dust. I glance behind my shoulder. We're surrounded by desert in all directions. I can't even see hints of Fringe towns in the distance. Nothing but flat, brown land and equally brown hills, though they're so out of reach I might just be imagining them.

I shift my attention back to the stranger. “Hey!” I stagger after him. “Hey, what are you—?”

He plants his feet and turns. He's laughing.

“What's so funny?” I stare up at his face. The top of my head comes up to his shoulders. I feel like I'm standing in a hole. “This isn't something to laugh at. Those things back t
here were gonna kill us. Avery's still—”

“You can take a moment to regain your bearings.” His voice rumbles through me, like he's amplified somehow—wearing a mic. It's not that he's loud, because he isn't. But there's a presence in the way he speaks, kind of like Captain Alkine back home.

“Wh-who are you?”

His half smile settles into a frown.

“You're a Drifter,” I continue. “Obviously.”

His expression remains fixed.

I rub a cloud of dust from my shoulder. “And a totally psychotic one, from the looks of it.”

He crosses his arms, appraising me for a moment before speaking. “What were you doing in that train?” He turns and continues to tromp through
the desert.

“I didn't plan to be there.” I follow him. “We were kidnapped by the Authority.”

He stops. “I saw what you did in that city, Pearlbreaker.”

“Yeah. It wasn't enough.”

“It was something,” he says. “But you're right, not nearly enough.” He res
umes his pace.

“Are you just gonna keep walking like this?”

“We gain nothing by standing still,” he replies. “We need to find your brother.”

“No,” I say. “We need to find Avery.”

The man sighs. “I needed to get you away from those soldiers. There wasn't time to carry both of—”

“We go back,” I interrupt. “It's not up for discussion.”

“Do you suppose that train will simply stop? Your friend will be carried away with it, Authority or no Authority.”

He's wrong. I know Avery well enough. She won't stay in that open train car, captive. Either she'll bust through the door or jump out the back.

“We need to find your brother,” the man repeats.

I glance up at him, doing my best to match his pace. “Cassius? How do you know about him?”

“Every Drifter knows about him,” he says. “
And
you.”

“So you are a Drifter, then. With the Resistance?”

The man laughs again. “You're too trusting. Where is Cassius now?”

“He's on Skyship Atlas.”

“Too trusting,” he repeats, shaking his head. Then he stops and points at the blanket of blue above us. “Look above you. Do you see anything in the sky? Your ships have been leveled—pulled to the ground. Defeated.”

I bring my eyes away from the sky, looking up at him once more. “You're here to help?”

“I'll do what I can,” he says. “But there's only one way to end this for good. And I need the both of you together.”

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

He frowns. “We can retrace our steps, if we must. Find your friend. Then, we need to talk about your brother. When I developed the Pearl technology, I allowed for a failsafe—”

“Wait.” My head spins. I stare at his face, but his head's bowed, obscuring much of it. “
You
developed—?”

“Yes, Jesse.” He raises his head and his eye meets mine. “For my sons.”

“Then you're—”

“It's comforting to finally see you,” he interrupts, “after so many years apart.”

We're silent for a moment, which is fine because I can't even form words. Instead, a chuckle spills out of my lips. I don't even realize I'm doing it, and I'm not quite sure why, either.

My father's brows rise, and for a moment I think that he's going to scold me. Then he smiles.

I swallow. My mouth is dry. “You're not serious. No way.”

His smile fades. “I don't joke about such things. Of course, you don't know me well enough to understand that.” He pauses. “My name is Savon. Number three-thousand-thirty-eight. I've been waiting to find you. For as long as I can rem
ember.”