carry the guilt and heartache of losing more soldiers. His team relied on him to carry them through every hardship. Most of them were dead, and his heart was hardened to the two who survived. Even if inadvertently, their actions caused countless deaths.
Still, he wondered if his hatred was misplaced. Eza and Yen made a dangerously poor decision to open the disk, but Captain Young was the one who destroyed them. He sent them into a trap and executed Aleiz. Vance’s desire for vengeance returned, surging through his blood. He would find a way off the planet if for no other reason than to exact that revenge.
“How long do you plan to ignore us?” Eza called from behind.
He was so lost in thought, he walked past the Wyndgaart without noticing him.
Vance paused, then shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Ignoring you seems like the best course of action, especially in our current situation.”
Eza slid from the table on which he sat and walked up beside the Pilgrim. “Yen and I screwed up. We both know that. Don’t you think we feel enough guilt already for what happened here?”
“I don’t know.” He turned toward Eza with a stern stare. “Do you feel guilty enough for all these soldiers’ deaths? Do you feel guilty enough for Nova, Ainj, Tusque, and Ixibas? How about for Aleiz?”
“That’s not fair.”
“No,” he said with a sigh, “it isn’t. You made a mistake, but you didn’t intentionally betray us like Captain Young did. You’re just the outlet for all the anger I feel right now.”
Vance raised an eyebrow in confusion and became lost in concentration.
“So how long do you plan to stay mad at us?” Eza asked.
“Shut up,” Vance hissed.
“That answers that.” He threw up his hands in disgust.
“No. I mean stay quiet! Listen.”
Eza strained to hear whatever Vance noticed, but all he heard was silence. Nothing seemed to be moving. “I don’t hear anything.”
“That’s the point. I spent all night long sitting against a wall, listening for the Seques to finally claw through a window or door….”
“…and now the noise is gone.” Eza finally realized what Vance meant.
Vance heard nothing-not the growling, howling, or clawing at the walls. The city was as silent as when they arrived. “How long has it been like this?”
“I have no idea. Help me move this shelf.”
Vance and Eza hurried to a metal shelf that had been pushed in front of one of the plated windows for extra protection. With a loud screech, the shelf moved aside, letting sunlight cascade into the narrow hall.
Vance peered between two slits. The window looked out across a grassy field toward a row of warehouses 800 feet away. The grass had been trampled, grinding the green stalks into the ground and churning the earth into muddy soup. Footprints filled with dirt, filth, and drops of green blood were visible, but no Seques remained.
Eza took a turn at the window, scanning carefully for any sign of the monsters. Finally, he stepped back and met Vance’s inquisitive eyes. “Where’d they all go?”
Vance wordlessly ran through his options. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’d love to find out. You interested in joining me for an early-morning walk?”
Eza smiled for the first time since arriving in the city. “I’d be delighted.” He pulled his ax free from his belt.
They walked through the hall until they reached the control room. Others, noticing their silence, fell into place behind them, their determination evident to all they passed. The rest of the survivors yearned to hear the answers the two apparently possessed.
Vance stopped at the entrance to the control room and caught Decker’s eye.
“I’ve got good news,” they said in unison.
“You first,” Vance said.
“We’ve been scanning the computer files all night. Without the mainframe, we can’t do any comprehensive searches. We had to search file by file, which is exhausting and monotonous.”
“I thought you had good news.”
“I’m getting there,” Decker said defensively. “When Yen started checking the automated defense systems- turret guns, automatic locks and shutters, and emergency beacons-he found a common thread. Someone input a virus that disabled the entire defensive matrix.”
“I thought you said you had good news,” Vance said slowly.
“It
Vance smiled. “Every Alliance ship within range.”
“If there’s a ship on this planet, we’ll find it. It’ll take time to bypass the virus and reconfigure the beacon, but we should have it up and running sometime today.”
“That
“I don’t trust it.” Yen looked up from the screen. “It’s too convenient.”
“Don’t you think there’s a better way to find out if it’s a trap?” Decker asked.
“Probably,” Eza said, “but we’re awfully bored. Nothing like imminent death to get the blood flowing back to the extremities.”
Eza and Vance slid extra magazines of ammunition into the pouches on their body armor and adjusted the plates that covered their shins and forearms. Yen stepped away from the console, as they finished, his eyes burning from strain and a headache throbbing behind his temples from the sound and smell of the generator.
He approached Vance, as the Pilgrim stuffed another grenade into his backpack. “Sir, I….” A plea for sympathy showed on his face.
“Don’t. I can’t say you didn’t do anything wrong, but my grudge is with Captain Young, not you. If you want to gain my favor again, find me a way off this rock, so I can let Young know how my barrel tastes before I send him straight to hell.”
Yen nodded, a look of relief breaking across his furrowed brow. “I won’t let you down, Sir.”
“Not again, you won’t.” Vance joined Eza at the entrance to the room.
The pair checked each other’s equipment and weapons one last time before moving toward the sealed front door.
It hadn’t been welded shut as most of the other doors and windows. Instead, massive piles of furniture and shelving units lent tons of pounds of support to the battered door. Even through the extra protection, the metal door showed wear and dents from its nightlong abuse.
The survivors helped Vance and Eza move furniture for nearly an hour. Beneath their heavy armor, sweat ran down their backs in rivulets, but neither complained. They savored the manual labor and the pain it caused, glad for a reason to be moving instead of hiding behind the outpost’s thick walls.
Finally, the warped door stood naked before them, lined on either side by recently displaced furniture.
“You know this has to be a trap, don’t you?” Eza rested his hand on the door’s locking bar.
“Probably, but I’d rather face my death head-on than starve to death inside this outpost.”
“Then let’s do it.”
Straining, they moved the heavy bar aside. Though it screeched in protest, the handle turned and granted them access to the muddy field outside.
Rifle barrels jutted from the sills on either side of the door, as the survivors hurried to provide covering fire against any threat the pair might encounter. As the door opened, they faced only sunshine and silence. Muddy footprints showed on the walls and door exterior. The shuffling of massive bodies was evident on the stone walkway that led to the outpost’s main building.
Viscous green blood was smeared in waves, running down the gentle hill to the street, but, as it was when they first entered the city, there were no bodies. The piles of Seques cut down by the turret guns had been hastily removed. Dark blood marked the spots where Dallis and the others fell near the entrance to the outpost, but their
