named Seth. âWhereâs Sergei?â
Heâs sweating, his hair in disarray. âHeâs not here. He went out with Miranda and Clay. To find a test subject.â
The Feral.
Which explains the chaos. Sergei and Miranda are the unofficial leaders of the Core. When it comes to science, they argue and bicker for days, but when it comes to running the place, they look to Sergei and Miranda.
And theyâre not here.
Which leaves it to me. And while I canât run a settlement, I know how to survive. So I start barking orders. Telling people to get the essentials to their ships. Telling them to prioritize the food.
âWhat about the data?â one woman asks.
âData is no good to you if youâre not around to look at it. Just take what you absolutely need.â
While they head off, hopefully to do what I told them to, I head for the ammo stores and cram my pockets and my arms full of as much as I can take. I also sling a rifle around my shoulders and tuck a pistol, an automatic, into my waistband.
I pass the water reservoir on the way back to the common area and I think about how itâs going to be lost. I start thinking about maybe rigging something up to the Cherub , drawing up one of the tanks, maybe. That water would be useful.
Then I hear the whine of ships approaching. No. Itâs too soon.
Two come in at first, with lines hanging underneath them. My blood goes cold. Each of the ships has a long cable suspended from it and at the end of those cables are large metal hooks. Pierced and wriggling on the ends of those hooks, like bait, are Ferals. One each. Just like at Gastown. The Core freezes, as if etched into my vision. People are still running around, carrying boxes and equipment. Some have made it to the ships and are pulling up cargo. But too few.
One of the Ferals drops and half-runs, half-stumbles through the open courtyard, spraying blood all around it.
The chaos of before returns, intensified.
Two of the three boffin airships start to move away, running from the Ferals and the raiders and for open air. Panicking.
The Cherub is too far away.
I unsling the rifle from around my back and enter that cold, dark place that helps keep me alive. There are only two Ferals, but of course I donât want to get close to them. But I know this place better than they do.
I climb one of the frames the boffins use to hold some of their construction projects. Itâs not the most stable perch, but it will hold me. I sight down the rifle at the dying Feral. I breathe in, hold it, and pull the trigger.
The bullet misses the Feralâs face, but his neck and shoulder explode in a shower of blood that I hope doesnât hit anyone. But it puts him down, he falls like a sack of rocks, and weâre down to one of them.
I scan to find the other one but donât see it. A voice in my head screams at me. Run for your ship, you idiot! Youâre not even wearing your scarf.
I think the Ferals might be able to climb this frame.
I look around at the remaining boffin ship, wondering if I could get to that, take it around to the Cherub , when one of the raiders with a gondola-mounted machine gun rakes the ship and the whole thing erupts in a blossom of fire.
A moment later Iâm tossed to the ground. Hard. And thought disappears under a wave of silence and shock.
My hand closes on nothing, the rifle fallen from my hand. My eyes refuse to focus. I see movement, but Iâm not sure what it is.
Get up , the voice in my head says.
I push myself to my knees. I canât see the rifle, but I feel the weight of the automatic in my waistband and I reach for it. A flurry of legs out of the corner of my eye. I turn to face it. Almost fire. But itâs one of the boffins. Sheâs bleeding. Her face twisted in fear. And I donât know if sheâs been infected. And thereâs nothing I can do for her.
The raider ships start to descend. Theyâll be in the Core soon.
Heâs sweating, his hair in disarray. âHeâs not here. He went out with Miranda and Clay. To find a test subject.â
The Feral.
Which explains the chaos. Sergei and Miranda are the unofficial leaders of the Core. When it comes to science, they argue and bicker for days, but when it comes to running the place, they look to Sergei and Miranda.
And theyâre not here.
Which leaves it to me. And while I canât run a settlement, I know how to survive. So I start barking orders. Telling people to get the essentials to their ships. Telling them to prioritize the food.
âWhat about the data?â one woman asks.
âData is no good to you if youâre not around to look at it. Just take what you absolutely need.â
While they head off, hopefully to do what I told them to, I head for the ammo stores and cram my pockets and my arms full of as much as I can take. I also sling a rifle around my shoulders and tuck a pistol, an automatic, into my waistband.
I pass the water reservoir on the way back to the common area and I think about how itâs going to be lost. I start thinking about maybe rigging something up to the Cherub , drawing up one of the tanks, maybe. That water would be useful.
Then I hear the whine of ships approaching. No. Itâs too soon.
Two come in at first, with lines hanging underneath them. My blood goes cold. Each of the ships has a long cable suspended from it and at the end of those cables are large metal hooks. Pierced and wriggling on the ends of those hooks, like bait, are Ferals. One each. Just like at Gastown. The Core freezes, as if etched into my vision. People are still running around, carrying boxes and equipment. Some have made it to the ships and are pulling up cargo. But too few.
One of the Ferals drops and half-runs, half-stumbles through the open courtyard, spraying blood all around it.
The chaos of before returns, intensified.
Two of the three boffin airships start to move away, running from the Ferals and the raiders and for open air. Panicking.
The Cherub is too far away.
I unsling the rifle from around my back and enter that cold, dark place that helps keep me alive. There are only two Ferals, but of course I donât want to get close to them. But I know this place better than they do.
I climb one of the frames the boffins use to hold some of their construction projects. Itâs not the most stable perch, but it will hold me. I sight down the rifle at the dying Feral. I breathe in, hold it, and pull the trigger.
The bullet misses the Feralâs face, but his neck and shoulder explode in a shower of blood that I hope doesnât hit anyone. But it puts him down, he falls like a sack of rocks, and weâre down to one of them.
I scan to find the other one but donât see it. A voice in my head screams at me. Run for your ship, you idiot! Youâre not even wearing your scarf.
I think the Ferals might be able to climb this frame.
I look around at the remaining boffin ship, wondering if I could get to that, take it around to the Cherub , when one of the raiders with a gondola-mounted machine gun rakes the ship and the whole thing erupts in a blossom of fire.
A moment later Iâm tossed to the ground. Hard. And thought disappears under a wave of silence and shock.
My hand closes on nothing, the rifle fallen from my hand. My eyes refuse to focus. I see movement, but Iâm not sure what it is.
Get up , the voice in my head says.
I push myself to my knees. I canât see the rifle, but I feel the weight of the automatic in my waistband and I reach for it. A flurry of legs out of the corner of my eye. I turn to face it. Almost fire. But itâs one of the boffins. Sheâs bleeding. Her face twisted in fear. And I donât know if sheâs been infected. And thereâs nothing I can do for her.
The raider ships start to descend. Theyâll be in the Core soon.
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