The Devil is in the Details

Justin led the way a few paces in front of the pack.

Possibly the only reason some of his followers hadn't panicked, lost cohesion and scattered in random vectors was the fact that his strides were fluid and careless as if he were actually strolling along in a park on a sunny afternoon. Like a picture perfect ending to a picture perfect day, he strode.

It was ten years ago in his mind. Right here, this very square, before the world turned ugly.

The air was less putrid. The courtyard wasn't barren. Citizens actually subsisted in safety. They basked in relative harmony with one another before the world experienced its inflationary population boom. Presently as Justin walked, he felt the firm pressure of hardened ground beneath his steady footfalls—even harder than the surrounding clay landscape. Underneath the sands of time that had rolled over the wind-swept land, cobblestone was laid…ten years ago. A quaint attempt at a town square setting. Such frivolities were a necessity now and then, affording wandering colonists a sense of home. But as industry took a hold under the reign of THI, the model of the factory-city became standardized. Every city became a Carbon copy of others before it and each one further paved over the implied foundation of conformity and homogeny in layers.

It was a sign of failures to come.

And they came in spades.

The traditionally lower-class jobs attracted certain types. That was understood universally. But once THI announced the planet as their shipping hub, black marketeers flocked in droves to claim it as well. That's when the likes of Kaiser Sergei descended down on Traxus IX.

What followed were all the horrific events that led Justin to his present place in the cosmos.

Truthfully, Justin's lax carriage as he walked was half pretense. He knew perfectly well that nerves would be on edge today. This was probably the most danger any of them had put themselves through, and he wasn't sure if he was sensitive to that fact or simply mired by it. If there was any trouble, they'd slow him down—probably all of them. Their capabilties just weren't up to snuff. And he had made it quite clear before the start of this fateful trek that he wouldn't be giving any handouts, not this time around. Compounding his followers' stress, whether they knew it or not, was the fact that they had terrible preparation for this journey: they had no psychological crutches like loaded weapons, armor, vehicles, or even the air of total and unbiased cooperation from one another. There was no team element in play. Furthermore, they'd spent the last five days cooped up in a structure that became a prison more so than the world they inhabited. Their nerves were on edge simply because they were eager to witness the next big event; there was no telling how any of them would react to it despite how well he had them figured.

But by pure body language alone, Justin already had command of the group.

Justin mused again, mused about a better time...

Ken was piloting, Major Renault was co-piloting in the NAV station. Chaplain William Santhouse, Technician Pete Barker, Captain Justin Reid and all his Marines occupied the troop bay. It was simple. It was just a cake-walk humanitarian op on some frontier world. Establish relations, keep the peace, enjoy the nightlife and make memories.

Justin broke his stride ever so slightly as he glanced behind him to Kaiser Sergei, arguably the man who ruined it all. The king of criminals exuded the same sort of poise Justin did, thoughtfully gazing off into the ambiance of the courtyard with a content smile, and it made Justin's blood boil. But he needed Sergei, just like he needed him. It was a symbiotic relationship of pure necessity, pure aggravation.

Justin turned back to the front. There, beckoned the tunnel entrance. Now that he saw it, he couldn't take his mind off things to muse about better days. Sergei occupied a special place in his memories and was a stain on all of them. He couldn't erase what had been put there. He'd have to live without the memory of better days for now.

Good, he thought. Better for the mission at hand.

The darkness seemed to swallow them all as they neared the threshold.

Layla instinctively scooted up right behind Justin as the world grew dark. She looked back, witnessing the muted ambiance behind them seemingly wave goodbye. Their footsteps gradually amplified, echoing off the confines of the surrounding of mortar and brick the deeper they progressed inward. "I don't like this." Layla whispered emphatically.

Justin glanced over his shoulder, "Me neither, but this is the only way."

"Guess we don't have to stay on edge for the time being." the Kaiser quipped. An instant later, he could sense the majority of the group's eyes on him. "Only one direction to be concerned about." he smiled.

"So shut up then." Justin lashed back.

No more was said as Sergei smiled.

Justin brought up his arm and glanced down to his wristwatch. The electroluminescent display showed 0800—fifteen minutes behind schedule already. Furthermore, sunrise was always at 0700 during this celestial cycle. One hour had already gone by, a total waste. Fourteen hours from now, the sun would go down and they'd all have to hunker down for the night somewhere. Justin was planning on getting everything done in one day—getting back into the inner sanctum for at least an assessment of the place, infiltrating the stockyard for ammunition, and then securing the city from within. If everything went well, food and water could become a top priority. But things were clearly beginning to falter. If the trend continued...

Justin smartly quickened his step ever so gradually so the others would subconsciously follow without complaint. He stole a glance back at them. He could barely see their faces. He glanced back to the front: he could make out a faint glitter of the titanium fencing. "Not much further, everyone. Just hang in there. Things are going well."

Despite the encouraging words, no one felt at ease. Eyes and ears were attuned to any and all stimuli, possibly more than was practical. Justin himself knew that one could force paranoia on themself if they focused too much. He knew that everyone was ready for anything, though not sure how to react to any possible threat. Everyone had capabilities and limitations. One solution was viable for any encounter with their common enemy in their combat-ineffective state—run the other way. But there was no telling just how intelligent the creatures were and thus how avoidable future combat was. Any threat from in front could be a flusher designed to drive them back where the rest of the alien pack waited. It was possible that the creatures knew more about Traxus IX than they did, seeming to be an indigenous species. Boxing the humans in was likely in the works. There was no telling. Justin's group had very little intel, which was devastating in itself as Gibson had warned. They had no weaponry and they were just barely getting along. Surely, everyone could find comfort in one of Bill's facetious prayers by now.

The Kaiser quickened his step as well, though he did it not to keep pace with Justin; it was to work his way alongside the boy, his newfound confidant in this survival game.

He whispered, "So how did Justin take up your idea?"

"You mean your idea."

"What? C'mon. What I meant to say was our idea."

Chris shook his head.

"I know you're strung out, so am I." the Kaiser said, glancing up to the head of the pack where Justin was walking. He then pulled out a stylish, chrome flask from his breast pocket. "Here," he whispered lower, unhinging the top, "take some. Wake you up a bit."

Chris accepted it graciously. Even though it was just about pitch black inside the tunnel, he noticed the sides of the metal case had intricate engravings. "What does that say?" Chris said, pointing. "Those symbols."

The Kaiser smiled. "You've got great eyesight, kid. The words are Russian. It means, 'Give to yourself by giving to the people'. It is a Koslovic statement, first uttered many years ago."

"What is Koslovic?"

The Kaiser smiled wider. "Justin can tell you all about it if we ever make it outta here."

"Fair enough." Chris said taking a sip. He swallowed it down and coughed raggedly. "…it burns."

"That means it's still good." Sergei chuckled. "There's an old folk saying on Russia Two. 'The moment you start drinking that Bosnian brandy, the Devil can be seen pointing and laughing at you.'"

Chris regarded the flask one last time before handing it back to Sergei. "I'll bet."

"Listen," Sergei said, "keep pressing your argument to him. I know Justin. He wants to leave this place as bad as any of us. He'll need constant reinforcement from you."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Chris said. "I think he wants some sort of personal payback with these things."

"Why do you suppose he's so intent on wiping them out?"

"I wouldn't know. Maybe it's because they killed Pete, or maybe it's as simple as Justin getting his home back."

"Well, in any case, keep trying. You know it is the best plan possible, right?"

Chris shrugged. "Sure."

"Why the long face? C'mon, it is the one solution where everyone comes out on top. A square deal. Tell me, where will you go when you leave this place? What goals did you have in life?"

"...Join the United Earth Space Corps."

"Be a Marine?" Sergei chuckled heartily. "You know, that doesn't surprise me all that much. I'm not poking fun at you, either. Seriously, that's great. An honorable profession. Surely you'll go places and see things, do things that very few others can. I figured you for an adventurous type, too. You look up to Justin so much."

Chris stared ahead into the blackness. "Guess you figured me out for the most part."

"See? I know people. I'm a people person. Take it from me when I say that Justin simply needs a little more affirmation that leaving this place is better than settling some score with a bunch of zombies. Do we see eye to eye now?"

"Yes."

Chris' discussion with Justin back in the admin building didn't fare well. It was two steps forward and one back. He bought into the escape plan which settled the long-term survivability, but it partially backfired on Chris. Even with the sound logic of Kaiser's plan, it only seemed to invigorate Justin's quest for revenge ever more. Chris was beginning to wonder whether Sergei was right earlier—maybe fighting and winning was too engrained into Justin. Even after ten years of separation from the UESC, it was obvious he would use the Pelican for nothing more than the warhorse it was designed to be while the slipspace parts were en route to City 17. He was going to hunt down the enemy, hoping that survivors would band together and take out the infestation as if bound by common duty.

It scared Chris: not just the thought of Justin putting himself in such danger, but because he was the only one capable of pulling off the unorthodox installation. Rretrofiting an FTL drive into a small, rugged transport vessel had never been attempted, Chris assumed. It would be the first of its kind, and that meant it would be difficult. Justin couldn't be venturing out into the world with so much wrong in it. His luck would run out sooner or later.

It was simply a matter of time.

The pressure was on Chris to prevent it.

At a stone's throw away from the massive tunnel gate, Justin slowed to a stroll. Everyone else mirrored his move, whether they were conscious of that or not.

Up ahead, through the constrictive screen of the titanium mesh, the view was limited. Extra care had to be taken now. Justin halted. He scanned up and down, left and right across the gate. Though he was certain the gate was closed, there was no way to confirm if it was actually locked, from this distance. He had to get closer.

Not that a locked gate was a detriment to their mission—Gibson had unlimited access to the entire city; he could scan them all in no problem. It was the fact that a locked or unlocked gate told of something. It would confirm to Justin whether or not the way ahead was safe. If there was trouble anywhere ahead, a locked gate meant safety.

"Stay here." Justin ordered the group.

He crept forward. Feeling his breath quicken, he retrieved his shotgun from beneath his coat—merely for novelty. If there was trouble, maybe the mere sight of a weapon would yield some kind of favored reaction out of the enemy. They exuded some measure of intelligence, so maybe they learned by now that shotguns didn't play well with others.

Justin glanced down only with his eyes to the floor. He panned left, he panned right. Two deadbolts were locked in place, sunken into the bedrock. He wanted so desperately to glance upwards to the upper deadbolts, but the view beyond the mesh was so distorted and hazy that he might very well have been staring a zombie in the face without even knowing it. He got to within a meter of the entry point. He had to know for sure that the way was safe. Leveling the shotgun ahead at chest height, he slowly panned upwards.

Twin deadbolts were fully extended into their cavities. He sighed.

"It's safe."

The others jogged up to his position. Everyone slowly took in their surroundings while Justin ran up a short ramp off to the side of the road. Now on a slightly elevated platform, he crouched behind the guard console that controlled the gate. He found one of many breaker switches and slid it over to the ON position. An instant later, fluorescent lights flickered overhead for a few seconds. Once the ballasts fully warmed up, the flicker ceased and solid illumination bathed them all in an instant. He activated another switch, and now robust flood lamps lit the way beyond the gate. Every single survivor now had total vantage and piece of mind. The only concern now was the way they had come from. But it looked clear.

Justin eased his stance and leaned up against a wall, retrieving a cigarette pack from his pocket. "Let's take a break just for a little while." Justin said. "I'm gonna figure out our next move."

"No need to." Gibson spoke up. The admin took long and graceful strides up the ramp and next to Justin. His chest puffed. "Watch this."

He knelt down as Justin had earlier, finding an alphanumeric keypad on the console. Gibson's belt produced an audible crackle as his swollen stomach expanded against it. Justin hoped that his obesity wouldn't slow them down. For Gibson was a key member of this group. If Gibson slowed down, that meant everyone slowed down. And slowing down was a problem in and of itself.

Justin put that concern in the back of his mind and watched as the admin began punching in a code on the surface of a touch-sensitive screen. It was a long sequence of input commands too. Gibson would type in a set of numbers and letters, and the program would respond back with some sort of query—one that only he knew. Another moment of this question-answer sequence of Boolean Logic, Gibson stood up slowly. He turned to face the nearby wall.

Nothing happened.

"What are you looking at?"

"Wait."

No sooner had Gibson said that, a section of concrete wall sunk inwards and slid to one side, revealing a hidden chamber.

"I'll be damned." Justin said. "You do have special privileges."

Gibson winked. "It's good to be king. C'mon, everyone. This'll cut our journey in half."

"You don't have to tell me twice." Justin said.

Justin entered the passageway right behind Gibson. It was incredibly narrow, only able to pass one person at a time. The ceiling was intrusively low as well, merely two meters high. And the corridor was dimly lit, wall-mounted LED panels casting their red glow down towards the floor, merely lighting the path before their feet. The walls themselves were barely visible.

"What is this place and where does it go?" Justin asked.

Gibson glanced over his shoulder to Justin as he walked straight ahead. "This is a service shaft. It was built when the city was first constructed." Gibson raised his voice higher as he neared a whirring generator half sunken into the oncoming left-hand wall. He had to compete with all the wind in his lungs against the antiquated machinery. "THIS WILL GO IN ABOUT ANOTHER FIFTY METERS, AND THEN WE'LL TAKE A DEDICATED PATH BACK TO THE FACTORY."

"GOOD CALL ON THIS." Justin complimented.

The noise from the generator had nowhere to go but in their ears, but now the T-junction was in sight dead ahead. As Justin approached it on Gibson's lead, the noise attenuated greatly.

Gibson assessed the new path briefly. "Everything is still ship-shape." he said. "As soon as everyone catches up…"

Justin spun around and caught sight of Chris striding purposefully closer, with Bill, Ken and Joe in tow. Not too far behind them was Kaiser and his three goons. Justin scowled as he glanced at him. He strolled down the corridor glancing left and right with an approving smile on his face, as if he were the VIP himself inspecting Gibson's facility. In between the metaphorical good and evil, was Justin's newfound love, Layla. Justin turned to Gibson again. "Alright," Justin said, "we're all here."

"Good." Gibson momentarily stood on his toes and then raised his brow, easily gaining everyone's attention. "We're taking the path on my left. We have small MAGLEV cars to get us there quicker. But I'm not too sure if the tram system is still working. Wait here while I warm up the grid."

With that, Gibson turned to face yet another wall, only this time there was a plainly visible doorway. He opened it and stepped through. Justin only caught a glimpse of the inside before Gibson deftly closed the door behind him.

Justin took the idle time to look the group over.

Standing next to him was Layla, his newfound love. Her eyes beamed back at his, but he broke off contact an instant later. He wasn't keen on broadcasting their precious relationship to everyone else, especially, Kaiser Sergei. Justin daydreamed about the future for a fleeting instant, about how great their love could grow for each other if they could actually escape this hellhole.

Justin snapped back into the game. If that future was to manifest into reality, he needed to put all his focus into this mission.

He swept his gaze over everyone. Chris, Ken, Bill and Joe Hendricksson were still very much in one piece, both mentally and physically. Next, was his reluctant appraisal of Kaiser and his men. Justin didn't read too much into their exterior or into their eyes—the windows to the soul. He merely did a brief once over, for he cared not for them, even though the more guns the better. Jaggo, the half-blind elderly cripple looked steady, but Justin knew that he was anything but physically imposing. He'd be a constant liability. Then again, that could be a blessing in disguise. If there was trouble ahead, Jaggo could be a sacrificial lamb for them all—a piece of food between them and the zombie threat. Justin stored that tidbit in the back of his mind for later, if such a time came.

The other two of the Kaiser's goons were very much stoic. They were ready and able, just like Sergei himself—who had that typical glimmer in his eye; always thinking and working things out. As the king of criminals met Justin's gaze, Justin knew he couldn't trust him. Not ever. The only thing they had in common, Justin now knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, was that they both had a desire to survive. Just a pure will to endure the trials of life. That was it. The Kaiser stood for nothing. Even in all my misfortune, I still kept an even keel. Justin thought. Kaiser Sergei doesn't deserve to escape.

Before Justin could muse on, Gibson opened the door and took his place in the corridor again.

"What'd you do?" Justin asked. "Did you get it to work?"

"We'll know in a second." Gibson answered. "The power system has to cycle. It may take a while since the grid hasn't been charged in quite some time."

Justin nodded, then looked around sheepishly.

A moment later, the lights around them flickered and dimmed. Gibson said, "No worries. The network is drawing power for initial charge. We'll be on our way shortly."

Justin stood on his toes and checked the way they came from, looked back towards the tunnel entrance to the corridor. Nothing. He took a deep breath.

"Alright," Gibson said, "Let's go."

"Wait now." the Kaiser said authoritatively. "Where does this lead?"

"We're working our way towards the ship." Gibson said with careful, diplomatic tone.

"Very well. We shall see."

The admin proceeded down one leg of the T-junction. About ten meters in and the left-hand wall recessed about a meter, where a monorail emerged from an underground opening and stretched as far into the distance as anyone could see. At regular intervals, support braces for the single balustrade were anchored about half a meter off the ground.

"Each car fits only two people. Justin and I will go first and scout the way. The cars are set to be spaced at hundred meters. They accelerate to a top speed of ten meters per second, if I recall correctly. This means that after we board the first car, it'll be at least another ten seconds before you all depart. Pick your partners now and be ready to go when your ride arrives. I'm sure Justin would agree with me—we need not waste any amount of time here. The sooner we all regroup at the factory, the sooner we can get on with surviving. There's plenty of food and drink in the city, I'm sure you all know that." Gibson's eyes lost focus as he tilted one ear in the direction of the rail aperture. "I hear the first one coming. Justin?"

"I'm ready." Justin said. He turned around and took two steps closer to Ken, whispering to his ear, "Do me a favor? Look out for Layla, would ya?"

Ken smiled. "Sure."

Justin took his place next to Gibson, who nodded.

The car slowly emerged out into the open and momentarily halted at the rail's neighboring loading platform. The car's were nearly circular in shape. The body panels were white fiberglass, sleek and smooth. The upper 'hemisphere' was a frameless and clear rigid plexiplate composite, allowing occupants a 180-degree view of their surroundings. Gibson stepped forth and opened its door. Justin diligently entered after Gibson, the container gently rocking under their combined weight. Once seated, Gibson keyed a command on a side-mounted interface. The car gently accelerated into the lighted tunnel and soon grew smaller.

That now left everyone waiting for another one of the petite ferries to arrive.

Kaiser checked his time piece. "It's not even mid day yet." he grinned. "Indeed things are going well."

"Yeah, well don't jinx it." Ken said.

"I'm just trying to liven up the mood."

Ken would've said something spiteful back, but creating more tension just wasn't a good idea. Not with so much wrong already. This alliance, itself, was wrong. Not in a million years would Ken even want to be in the same vicinity as the Kaiser. But pure necessity mandated it.

Everyone there could now hear the sound of an approaching car, the long strands of dust wipers sweeping over its smooth cowling from overhead as it emerged.

"Joe, you take Layla with you on this one." Ken announced. "Then, Chris and I will go." Joe went to reach for the door, then glanced back to Bill, trying not to make it too obvious that he was nervous when he asked, "You gonna be okay, Bill?"

Though the question wasn't directed to Ken, he was already on the same page as Joe. He wanted to look the Kaiser and his men over, as if their demeanor could give them away this instant, but he fought that urge. He didn't want to make the situation too obvious either (that Bill would be forced to take up residence with the Kaiser, or one of his men for the ride to the factory). But Bill was probably not even worth their time, Ken surmised. He was harmless, a fly on the wall. "He'll be fine." Ken nodded.

Ken held open the door for the next two up, and Joe entered the car after Layla.

The car sped up to its hard-set cruise and soon faded from sight in the yawning tunnel. As soon as that happened, the Kaiser stepped closer to Chris. "Make sure you keep on top of Justin. Sometimes people just need things drilled into them, especially people like him. He won't respond well to a pushover, so don't be one. Stand firm when you talk to him and believe in the plan."

Chris nodded.

"What plan?" Ken asked, his eyes slightly narrowed.

The Kaiser didn't answer.

Ken turned to Chris. "What plan?"

"Just a plan for the quickest way to get food and stuff."

"I'm not a psychic, Chris, but I know you're lying. What plan?"

"Okay. It's a plan to get us out of here."

"That's it? Give me the specifics."

"I've told Justin and Bill already, and truthfully I'm getting sick of repeating myself. So, if you're so inclined to hear it, go ahead and ask them."

"Listen here, Chris, you need to tell me something that makes sense…right now. If Justin ever found out you were in league with this guy, he'd probably, well, I don't really know what he'd do but it wouldn't be good."

"Forget you, Ken. I'm sick and tired of people thinking they're better than me, always shutting me up or lecturing me about something. And now when someone does finally want to listen to me, they're demanding information from me like I was a God damned POW! I'm done with this!"

Ken shook his head. "I wasn't trying to upset you. I'm only trying to look out for you." Ken looked up at Kaiser and glared, before refocusing back on Chris. "You need to be careful what you say and what you listen to. Now, get ready; the next car is coming."

Justin and Mr. Gibson sat across from one another in the cramped car, barely enough leg room for two men of such size. Their lower extremities kept sliding into each other as the car glided around gentle, embanked curves.

With a slight amount of exasperation, Gibson uttered, "We're almost there." He stood up in the car and stared blankly ahead, his mind on something. Suddenly, something caught his attention. Out the window, down to where the single rail's support beams anchored into the ground, a puddle of greenish-white liquid had collected. It was fresh by the looks of it, slowly seeping into the gravel bedrock.

"What are you looking at?" Justin asked.

"I don't know. Probably nothing. Maybe just a coolant leak or a broken hydraulic valve or something."

A pale, white light grew brighter as the car slowed. Justin looked all around through the clear plexiplate of the car's top half. He observed his new surroundings. It was an underground maintenance bay of sorts, immense in volume. Around the periphery, high loading docks—about three meters raised off the ground—stood prominently around the cavernous expanse. Around the surrounding platform's perimeter were wide sheetmetal doors that opened upwards and closed downwards. Every single one was padlocked.

Small personnel ladders provided access from the platform to the deck, which was a smooth poly-resin of some sort, just like the factory floors somewhere above. Huge drain grates occupied the edges of the deck in front of them. This was some sort of dedicated maintenance bay or warehouse from what Justin could gather. He had never seen or heard of this place.

Gibson propped open the door and led the way into the open.

It was quiet, which was good. Justin liked quiet. It was soothing and it would allow him to hear the enemy easily, even though he gauged that they hadn't yet discovered this place. Overhead, Mercury-vapor lamps flooded the bay with a natural, pale-white luminosity like a moon. That was soothing as well.

Justin realized he had stood in the very center of the bay for a good thirty seconds now. He looked to Gibson. "So?" Justin said. "What's the plan? Where to?"

"We've been keeping secrets from each other." Gibson pivoted and instantly reeled in closer to Justin.

"What do you mean, secrets?"

"I mean I think it's time we share a little information, right here and now before the others arrive. We may not get another chance like this."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but if you have a burning question then ask me."

"Okay. Why is it that Ken gets extra protection?"

"Before I say why, let me first answer that question with a question. Do you know how to fly the Pelican? I'm talking about manually, Gibson, not that autopilot routine you go through when you annually change locations."

"Not really."

"That's what I thought. The reason we need to protect Ken more than any other is because, well damnit, you know why; he's the one that flew my squad in ten years ago. Is that seriously what's been eating you?"

"Yes, that's what's eating me. I deserve an equal amount of protection too. It's my Pelican. I'm the one getting us out of here!"

"Well, duh, Mister Gibson; that's kind of inferred, don't you think?"

"Okay, I'm sorry for blowing up there. I guess I just needed some reassurance."

"No problem. Still worried about Sergei?"

"More so than the parasites if I do say so myself."

"Fair enough. Like I said, there's little to worry about now."

"And later?"

"Later is when we're actually up in the air, whenever the Hell that is. Not suffering him, it'll be a miracle if we even last that long."

Gibson rubbed his chin vigorously. "Indeed."

"Okay, now it's your turn." Justin said, folding his arms. "I showed you mine, now you show me yours."

Gibson delayed his response. "Okay, I'm just gonna be straight and tell you. The Pelican has a slipspace drive in it. We can leave this system if we can get to it."

Justin's eyes widened. "That's why you haven't called for help yet. You don't want the big boys upstairs knowing you have yourself a little magic carpet ride outta here in case shit gets ugly again. Tell me you're kidding."

"No."

Justin snapped his finger and smiled wide. "Fucking coincidence, man. Damn, I feel like I'm having déjà vu. Chris had this idea earlier—"

A low rumble instantly materialized in the back of Justin's mind. He felt it approaching from somewhere far away, approaching fast like a cosmic Gamma ray burst, aimed solely for him. He felt its presence crescendo like an approaching tsunami, rising without warning. Another instant and it cascaded into a full, titanous roar. Then, the voice surfaced from within as the wave of a thousand tormented voices crashed down upon his soul.

"A way out? A WAY OUT?"

Justin's knees buckled and he dropped to the deck.

"What's wrong?" Gibson asked, bending down.

Justin reached out with one hand and Gibson grabbed a hold of it, yanking him back on his feet. Instantly, the voice and the rumble receded to the darkest depths of his imagination. Just as soon as it arrived, it was gone.

"Reid, you okay?"

"I'm fine now. Just bad food in my stomach."

"You sure?"

"Positive." Justin took a moment and a few deep breaths to steady himself. "Now how in the hell does your Pelican have a slipspace drive in it?"

"It's a special unit. Scored myself a scaled-down, commercial variant."

"How did you get it in there?"

"I've used my time wisely here. While the war lords have been slaughtering and the workers stealing 'n dealing, I've been modding this thing in case I ever needed to escape. You're not the only rotten son of a bitch on this planet." Gibson smiled.

"Who put in the wrench time? Couldn't have been you, all by yourself."

"You're right. I had a team of ex-mil contractors do the install. Set my credit back a few years, but well worth it, eh?"

"Fuckin'-aye right it is. This is about the best news I've ever had in my life. Why didn't you tell us all earlier?"

"Because I have to be careful who I tell, don't I?"

Justin nodded in reply.

"And there's just one catch to leaving." Gibson said, checking the MAGLEV rail behind them. The next car was on approach. Gibson hurried his words. "When the drive unit was installed, it sacrificed a lot of room in the rear bay. The occupancy level was originally twelve, now it's seven."

"Always a catch." Justin smiled.

Justin wasn't smiling out of amusement. What Gibson just said was a bitter-sweet realization. Justin did a rough head count of all the survivors.

A way off the planet the modified Pelican was, but it meant there wasn't enough space for all of them. When will the universe stop pulling fast ones on me? "So we have to leave someone behind."

"I'm afraid so." Gibson pinched his lower lip. "Now, what is the one thing a caged animal dreams about, Justin?"

"Freedom?"

"Yes. Look, we both know there's an easy solution to this problem."

"Sergei."

"Exactly. We can kill two birds with one stone. We leave this place for good, and we can get rid of the man who started it all. Because I don't know about you, but it would be an incredible disservice to the world we brought him to. He'd do it all over again if he got the chance. You know what I mean?"

Justin nodded. He held his arms out wide. "So, where is it?"

"The Pelican? It's through that door." Gibson pointed to the other side of the bay where a small personnel hatch resided. "We're sitting a couple stories under the factory you normally work in. That door over there leads to a small shaft that cuts across under the courtyard and to the underside of the other factory. In between is where she is, prepped and ready to go."

Justin kicked the heel of his boot across the floor. "I'll be damned, Gibson. You are the man."

"Thank me later." Gibson said, glancing over to the arriving car. "We're not outta this yet."

Right as Joe and Layla emerged from the car further aft of them, Gibson leaned in closer, toning his voice down to a whisper. "Keep it a secret for now. It's a delicate subject."

"I know. Not a word."

The last car had arrived. Everyone had re-grouped in the loading/maintenance bay. Gibson let everyone take a short break while he consulted a datapad. Justin whispered something to Layla, then strode over to him with a lit cigarette hanging limp from the corner of his mouth. He glanced back to her and saw her smiling. He then turned to face Gibson, the both of them standing square in the middle of the bay.

"Is your little gadget still good for some Intel?"

Gibson slowly took his attention off his datapad and looked Justin in the eye, smiling somberly. "I'm afraid not. I've ensured that no surveillance has been in place while my installation was carried out, so we're flying blind from here to the Pelican. It had to be that way, in case someone was snooping where they shouldn't have."

"Guess that worked for us as well as against us. But no one's been down here since then, right?"

"Right. I'm at least ninety percent sure that no one but me knows this place exists, except the workers I hired, of course. But they're long gone."

"Good." Justin said heartily. He took a slow look around the well-lit area, taking in a smooth drag of his cigarette while droplets of water trickled to the ground under the condenser units in the corner of the bay. Most of the group was teetering on either boredom or exhaustion. They had accomplished a lot of walking and had undergone a good deal of anxiety in the short time since they left the admin district. Justin checked his watch: 0900. Things were moving along quite well. And now that he knew there was a Pelican within reach—one that already completed a slipspace retrofit—he was actually feeling better than he had any other time during his ten years on Traxus IX. Better than all the times he drank up, smoked up, got high. It was right up there, right next to being with Layla. He let himself dream of their future together, for just a brief moment. He felt a warmth in his chest that he hadn't felt in ages. The notion of him and Layla together, in a home, happy for the rest of their weathered days was sweet in his mind, and would be in reality as soon as they left this God-forsaken place.

Gibson looked around the room.

Layla, Ken and Joe were huddled close together, all of them sitting Indian Style. The priest and the boy were conversing about something, Gibson couldn't tell.

The Kaiser, whom Gibson could almost not even stand to look upon, was already looking directly at him with an animalistic stare, eyes shining like predators' do in the night. He held an Arkansas Stone in one hand as he caressed the edge of his knife against it with the other, swirling and scraping away at the whetstone, honing a deadly edge.

Right, Gibson thought. He stowed away his datapad. "Okay, people," he shouted, "let's get on the good foot. Anybody's coming, then c'mon." Gibson leaned in closer to Justin before the rest of the group came their way. "Just one more thing...how and when do you plan to do it?"

"I could slit his throat from behind. Right as he boards the bird. He'll finally get what he's deserved." Justin murmured back. "I'll have the others take on his goons."

"Who, Reid? You've got Ken and Joe, and that's about it."

"Two against three, sure. But with what I'm thinking, Sergei will have a quick death. He'll be down for good with a blade to the jugular. I'll pitch in a hand on the other two. Simple."

"Let's hope." Gibson stood straighter as the remainder of the group came within earshot. "Simple plan, people. Get to the ship, fire it up, circle the courtyard for a minute and see what we can see. After that, I leave it to Justin."

"What then?" the Kaiser asked, "take in the scenery?"

"Take up your concerns with Justin. He's in command."

"Very well, I will."

Gibson strode up to the personnel hatch. He halted just shy of it, pulled up his sagging trousers and nodded to Justin, who came alongside him and wrapped his powerful hands around the quick-acting rotary lock. Justin jerked it counterclockwise to snap it loose of its seal. The water-tight, centrally-dogged door gave a quick, stacato groan. Instantly, he noticed the scent of mineral-fortified synthetic lubricant emanating from the embedded gaskets. Justin continued winding the wheel CCW until there was less and less resistance, now free-rolling. The door slowly hinged open a moment later and Justin pushed it all the way ajar.

"Alright, let's go." Gibson said. He was first in, followed by Justin.

The corridor was once again very narrow, only able to pass one individual at a time. The interior was lit by the same red LEDs from the last secret passageway. The air was rather stuffy and stagnant with the smell of stale, crackled paint and oil lingering.

From over Gibson's shoulder, Justin could make out the hatch at the end. About another thirty meters and they were golden. Justin unzipped his parka partially and brought his survival knife to bear, holding it just inside the Goretex lining. He gripped the handle hard and prepared once again to kill for the greater good.

Justin stowed the blade back to the inner breast pocket, leaving the outer zipper halfway down for quick access.

Gibson approached the threshold to the door. "It's all you, Justin." Gibson said.

Justin once again made to open the door. He achieved a firm grip over the wheel, instantly snapping it loose of its torque on the seals. A few twists and the door gradually slid open on its own well-oiled hinges. He stood aside with the door held open. Gibson swung a leg over the partition and shoved his face into the new bay. He stopped moving.

Justin still remained inside, holding the door open and waiting for everyone else to follow the admin inwards to salvation...waiting to be the last man in so he could take down Kaiser Sergei at the end.

But no one moved a muscle. The admin just remained stationary at the threshold to the bay. Justin took notice and swung his head around the edge of the door, looking to see why Gibson stopped. He wished he hadn't.

At first, Justin immediately noticed the fimiliar, armored hull of a Pelican dropship resting prominently on its landing gear, a commanding presence towering over all else inside the bay. But filling the epoxy-resin expanse below the mighty bird was a writhing mass of alien flesh, their numbers unfathomable, truly a sea of death.

Justin yanked Gibson inwards by the collar, the admin falling ass-first onto the deck. Justin quietly pressed the hatch closed and wound the locking wheel until it was a chore to do so. A wide smile then consumed his face as he turned, and the corridor filled with his laughter.

Others would happily join Justin in another place and another time if only for the contagious grin and the jesting sounds beaming from him. He leveled his gaze squarely at Bill.

"Where's your God now?"