Megalodon City, Tundra, Standard Year 404

  Friday

  Samantha Hawk got up and stared at herself in the mirror. Jim, her husband and the president of their planet, was already gone. Hard at work. He had offered to spend the day with her, but she declined. Which left her alone, waiting. It was the first day they all expected to hear news that her son James was on his way back. This was the day James was supposed to check in. Of course, she knew it wasn’t likely to happen that morning. It was still nighttime on Saraya and he would have at least one more mission to go. If the update would come, it would be later that evening. So, Samantha waited.

  The logical thing to do would be to go about her day. And Samantha was nothing if not logical. But not this time. This time, for this mission, she canceled everything. Samantha Hawk, was worried.

  ---

  “Get down, get under the car roll under the CAR!” Alanna yelled as she watched her new boss get pierced by a killing round to the chest. She threw herself against him in an attempt to get him to go down faster. Unfortunately, it felt a great deal like throwing yourself against a cement wall. A noticeable moment later, Grant went down and rolled as instructed. It was very clearly in response to her words rather than her futile attempt to knock him down. Of course, Grant was a giant. She should learn to expect these things. Relieved to find herself still free of holes, Alanna rolled under the car after him, gun out as she attempted to ascertain the angle and trajectory of the attack. It was going to be exceptionally difficult to take out the assassin from her location underneath the car. Her visibility was nonexistent. The good news was, the assassin would need to come to them. She didn’t think he could hit a target through the car. Probably. Also, he probably did not have hand grenades. If he did…

  “Grant.” Alanna hissed, army crawling closer to his face to make sure he heard. “Is there any way we can use your fancy security system? Because our position is not great right now.”

  Grant stared dizzily at the carriage of the car, which was less than an inch from his unfortunately oversized nose. Grant, was a giant. And rolling under cars was no hobby for a giant. “System activated.” He said. At least, he thought he said it. His voice sounded rather strange in his own ears.

  Alanna opened her mouth to respond, and was momentarily distracted by the fact that Grant’s blood was finally seeping through his shirt. And it was yellowish green. Focus, she reminded herself. Must focus. “If it’s activated, then why am I still hearing someone shooting at us?” She hissed.

  “Not… through.” Grant said.

  “They’re not getting through?” Alanna asked, trying not to look at the yellowish green blood that continued to seep out.

  “Yes.” Grant said.

  “Grant… should I be putting pressure on that wound?”

  “No. Will clot. Leave.” Grant gurgled slightly.

  “Leave it?” Alanna asked doubtfully.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you saying if I go out there and try to take down the assassin, I will not get shot?”

  “Yes.” Grant made another disturbing gurgling sound. “Go.” He added.

  “Grant if you’re wrong, I’m dead.”

  “Yes.” Grant agreed.

  “Ok, say no just so I know you’re not saying yes to everything.”

  “No.”

  Alanna crawled to the other side of the car. Based on the angle of the shots, she hoped to come out further from the assassin, with the car between them as her cover. Of course, if he had a good enough vantage point, he would be able to aim and take her out regardless of which side of the car she was on. Still, Alanna liked to take precautions where she could. Not that she didn’t have full faith in Grant’s gurgly responses. Recalling the exact location where she had seen movement in the garage earlier that day, Alanna looked in that direction first. He was well hidden, and she would not have spotted him if she didn’t already know where to look. But to her, the glint of a rifle scope in the air vent over the garage, was a dead giveaway.

  The angle was going to be exceptionally awkward, but sniper work was her specialty. Alanna could handle an awkward angle, no problem. Trusting Grant’s promise that the assassin’s killing rounds would no longer get through, Alanna brought up her gun and started shooting. On her third shot, the rifle scope slid sideways. She fired off a few more shots but there wasn’t much point. Either he was stunned by one of the rounds she shot, or he was trying to trick her into coming out. But Alanna doubted that. She was pretty sure she had hit her target. She usually did. So she climbed back under the car. “Grant, I need you to tell me what to do.” She whispered, trying to keep her eyes away from the spreading stain of yellowish green blood.

  “Outside. Need cold.” Grant said.

  “Um. Right. Ok. For how long?”

  “An hour or two.”

  “And that will slow down the bleeding?” Alanna asked, trying to reason her way through what was essentially, crazy alien biology.

  “Yes.”

  “And then?”

  “Bed. Need sleep.” Grant gurgled. “Pass out. Soon. Cold. Bed. Sleep. Call Robert.”

  “Call Robert.” Alanna muttered in frustration as she climbed back out from under the car. Sure, she would just go call up everyone named Robert until she got to the right one. That sounded like a plan. She ran back towards the elevator. There was an antigrav platform she had seen in Grant’s lab. He used it to transfer equipment. She could only pray that it would be big enough to transfer Grant. And also that Grant’s obviously ineffective security system didn’t decide to overreact and go after her.

  It was only a few minutes later but it felt like an eternity as Alanna brought the platform down flat next to Grant and did her best to slide him onto it. From underneath the car. It was not easy. And it took a while.

  “Grant?” Alanna said uncertainly once he was loaded onto the antigrav platform. But there was no answer. “Outside. Cold for an hour or two. Then sleep.” Alanna muttered under her breath. Those were her instructions. Only how the hell was she going to do that? Grant wouldn’t fit into her car. She looked back down at Grant’s unconscious form. His color was turning a distinctly unhealthy looking green. And the garage was as deserted as ever. Grant, did not like company. And if she didn’t do something soon, Grant wouldn’t like much of anything for much longer. It was winter on Tundra. Going outside meant near instant death. But not actual instant death, Alanna thought. Even the vacuum of space didn’t kill you instantly. Without further consideration, she grabbed the antigrav platform and ran towards the exit of the garage, towards the outside.

  The cold slammed into her like a physical force, as if she were walking into a wall of ice. The wind stung her face, like needles against her exposed skin. Her eyes teared up, the water turning to ice instantly, making it nearly impossible to see. And each breath of the ice cold air was agony. Blinking frantically, Alanna could blurrily make out a road that appeared deserted. She did not typically see cars when she left the garage. Hands trembling uncontrollably, she pushed the antigrav platform into what looked like an out of the way alcove, turned around, and ran for all she was worth until she was back inside the car, door locked and the heat on full blast.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  She thought about the yellowish green blood seeping across Grant’s chest. But Grant didn’t seem to think he would die. Cold, followed by bed rest. That was what he said. And as long as Grant didn’t actually die, well, Alanna took a breath of the blissfully warm air. She would check on the stunned assassin later. And all in all, she’d had worse weeks. She just hoped that was true for James, as well.

  ---

  Phoenix City, Saraya, Standard Year 404

  James ran along the side of the road to draw the enemy towards him, and away from Clara and Henry. But a few minutes later, he realized it wouldn’t matter. There were enough helicopters there to track all of them. He could only hope that Clara and Henry got enough of a head start. Making an abrupt turn, he headed into the deep Sarayan jungle as the hot air seared his lungs. It was high noon, on Saraya.

  He started out running but slowed down a few minutes later. It was unsustainable in the heat. Walking through the jungle in a random direction, James wondered what the Sarayans used to track. Looking for heat signatures sure as hell wouldn’t work. He was probably the coldest thing in the whole damn jungle. Was it possible to look for cold signatures? And then, a distant sound answered his question. The howling barks of tracking dogs echoed through the jungle. The Sarayans were coming for him. There was no way to know why, or how they found out there was someone here worth tracking. He couldn’t outrun the dogs. He couldn’t use water to mask his sent to escape because Sarayan water was poison and led to certain death. And the Sarayans, were coming. James scanned the jungle. Yes, the Sarayans were coming. But how many? And were they expecting an amateur rather than a trained soldier?

  After all, the Sarayans were going up against James Hawk. If it was a dozen to one and he could choose the field of battle, he would take those odds. Eyes narrowed as he scanned the area, James identified an especially thick tree wrapped in purple vines and began climbing. It branched out closer to the top, providing him with nearly perfect cover from all sides, and an ideal vantage point onto the jungle below. He took out his gun, hesitating slightly before leaving the setting on stun. There was no reason he could think of, for the Sarayans to be going after them. Was it possible there was some sort of misunderstanding? And if so, perhaps the Sarayans could yet be dissuaded from their pursuit. Once killing rounds were used, that would no longer be an option. Taking off both of his boots, he placed them artistically underneath a clump of purple vines before moving a few feet over. It was close enough that when the Saryans retraced the angle of his shots, they would see the boots and come to the obvious conclusion.

  The sound of the dogs grew closer. Focusing on the movement in the jungle far below, James began taking out his targets. Eight were gone before the Sarayans had any hope of reaching him. The remainder of the first team, handful at the most, edged closer. Only then did the clump of vines with the boots take a few hits. James eliminated the rest in under a minute. All in all, not bad, he thought with a slight grin. He then methodically stunned the dogs barking under the tree. He was about to climb down when he hesitated, his eyes scanning the jungle. If it were him hunting someone, he would hold a few people back, to draw out his foolish prey. He waited. A long time later and with great caution, he climbed back down the tree, doing his best to maintain the cover of vines as he went. He looked back up at the boots with some regret, but he would need to leave them. If someone was out there watching, they would certainly notice if he went back for his footwear. Replacing the charge on his gun with a new one, he took another drink of his water reserve and walked on deeper into the jungle.

  The heat was relentless, inescapable. He looked for caves, but there were none to be found. He tried sheltering in the hollows of a few trees, hoping it would provide a respite from the heat, but it did not. It was just hot. Always. Forever. The sun will soon set, James thought as he placed one foot in front of the other. But it won’t, the still rational part of his brain reminded him. It’s summer on Saraya, and you are on the north pole, where all human settlements are. The sun will not set. It will be daylight, forever. And the heat, the heat will go on forever, as well. He tried to drink less, to conserve what water he had. But the dizziness was getting worse. But how did they know? James thought, reaching out a hand to steady himself as he stumbled. Why would such a large Sarayan force be out here, in the middle of nowhere, looking for them? Why did Robert ask for Will’s factory to be hit last? His overheated brain wondered. He stumbled again, fell, and forced himself to get back up.

  ---

  Clara shot one last glance towards James, knowing he was intentionally remaining visible for longer to draw attention away from her and Henry, and moved back towards the jungle. Rather than going deeper, she continued on along the side of the road, too far for the Sarayans to make out her smaller form but close enough to see the patrol cars driving by… and stopping. “Oh shit.” Clara whispered under her breath as she watched them unload the dogs. So that was how they did it on Saraya. She was about to run when she saw him, his dark eyes scanning the jungle more frantically than the others. Most of the cops were following James, a few were focused on Henry, but in the area closest to where Clara entered the jungle, one cop stood out based on the intensity of his search, his sharp eyes scanning the jungle. Eric. Eric and Clara had met, during her eventful visit to Saraya’s moon base. And they had spent a somewhat memorable night together. And in the end, Eric had let them all go. Deep down, Clara knew he did it as a favor to her. But why was he here, clearly doing his best to find her first? For that matter, why were any of them here? The manhunt she saw from the edge of the jungle was absolutely massive in scope. Based on her understanding of the resources of the Sarayan police, even if they knew that the three of them had killed eight marines on Saraya’s moon station, this was too much. This was the type of manhunt reserved for enemies of the state. Reserved for personal enemies, of Lorelai Achly. But why would anyone ever think that applied to us? Clara thought in confusion.

  Refocusing on her current situation, Clara considered her options as the dogs began pulling on their leash, clearly sensing their prey was nearby. Her options were in fact, extremely limited. There was suicide, which was likely preferable to being captured by the Sarayans. And there was the mad hope that Eric had a plan to save her. Clara looked down at her gun indecisively for one long moment, until Eric separated off from the others, heading closer towards her location. Still hesitant, she moved closer to the road, where Eric was more likely to catch a glimpse of her. Was there a plan? She followed his eyes as they scanned the jungle, moving her hand slightly when she was exactly within his line of sight.

  Eric froze, his eyes on hers. He had seen her. Clara remained frozen uncertainly as he stepped forward.

  Eric raised his gun.

  Automatically, she raised hers in response, but it was too late. Unconscious, Clara fell to the ground.

  ---

  Henry ran into the jungle, deeper and deeper. He could hear the sound of dogs at a distance, but always at a distance. They never seemed to come any closer. They’re running me to exhaustion, he thought. He slowed down intentionally and at first, the sound of the dogs came closer. As he resisted the urge to speed up again, he noticed that once again, the sound faded into the distance. They slowed down intentionally, to match his slower pace. He was going ever deeper into the Sarayan jungle, and the heat was suffocating. The jungle stretched ahead but that sense of open freedom was misleading. It’s a trap, Henry thought. But why? How had the Sarayans known that three random strangers with new faces driving down a deserted highway, were a threat? The manhunt he saw before veering off into the jungle was massive. Cars, helicopters, dogs. Enough manpower to go after all three of them after they split up, with people to spare. But why?

  ---

  “Just let them run themselves out.” The old cop said with a relaxed shrug. He banged on the ancient air conditioner of his car with some annoyance, in the futile hope that he could get it to work more effectively. The big wigs were all there, posturing for the important mission. But when it came down to it, they needed him to get the job done. “You can chase them down and lose a dozen or two more men to stunner fire” he continued in the blunt way that got him into trouble a million times before “or you can track them at a distance and wait until we all know they’ll pass out from the heat. The planet, ladies and gentlemen, the planet will get them every time. Just let Saraya do her job.”

  “The president wants them all alive. And she wants them fast.” The mission commander said. His eyes were narrowed in anger but the anger was restrained. He was the best for a reason. And this time, Lorelai Achly sent in the best.

  “Based on what one of them did the first time, this is as fast as we’re getting them. And as to whether we get them alive, well.” The old cop shrugged philosophically, trying not to think about the things they all knew Lorelai did when she got her prey alive. “They all went into that jungle with their own guns. That’ll be up to them no matter what.”