The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3)

  “The created become the creators,” I mutter.

  “What was that?”

  I sigh. “Humans playing deities is a dangerous game. We may have the intelligence to create a new species. But we sure as hell lack the wisdom to guide them.”

  She opens a cabinet, studies its contents, and pulls out a bottle of pills. “These can help with the pain until we can find a more permanent solution to manage your condition.”

  I take the bottle from her and examine the label. “Will these also suppress the memories?”

  “Yes. Consider them a sort of dream suppressant, acting to bury those memories deeper into your subconscious—”

  I shove the bottle back into her hand. “Sorry. That’s not an option any longer.”

  Breck looks confused. “I don’t understand. If the memories are causing you pain, why would you want to continue to endure them, especially if their ill effects can create irreversible damage that may prove to be life threatening?”

  “Because buried in those memories is something very important. Something to do with this place. Something that could involve major repercussions for the war effort. I’m not just talking about the effects on the original survivors in the Nexus.” I glance upward. “The people living up there are at risk, too. I can feel it, lurking just beyond the veil of my subconscious. There’s something about this place that can tip the balance of humanity’s survival, and not necessarily in a good way.” My head throbs again. I clutch the ends of the examining table, squeezing my eyes shut until the pain subsides to a dull ache.

  Breck taps my arm. “Here. Take this.” She hands me a cloth and touches her nose.

  Hot blood pools at my upper lip even before I dab my nose with the cloth. I stare at the fresh blood for a moment while the dizziness passes. Then I hop off the bed. “I need some air.”

  Before she can protest, I hit the release on the door and march out of the room, desperate to escape the claustrophobic confines and reach the openness of Nexus Prime’s central core.

  No sooner do I arrive there, blaring alarms pierce the quiet, echoing throughout the installation.

  Cole emerges from the hallway, running to me. “What’s going on?” he shouts over the shrill din.

  All I can do is shake my head.

  Attention, a synthetic voice declares from the complex’s speakers. Intruders have breached the installation’s security perimeter and are closing in.

  The huge screens on every level spring to life with static and then an unsettling image.

  A squadron of Thorn Republic attack ships.

  My heart thunders. “They found us.”

  Breck bursts into the core, Saffron close on her heels. Cephas must have stayed in the medical wing to look after Digory. The two young women stare at the Squawkers and Vultures flitting across the surface like angry insects.

  “Who are they?” Saffron asks, her eyes glued to the screens.

  “Looks like an advance scouting mission from the Thorn Republic.”

  They both gape at me.

  I purse my lips. “Meet the enemy.”

  “Maybe they’re your enemy,” Saffron says. “But they don’t even know we exist. They might not mean us any harm.”

  The screens fill with the sight of the weapon hatches on the fighters sliding open. “I’d rethink that position if I were you.”

  An intense flash momentarily blinds us. The images on the screens distort in a burst of static. Through the haze I can make out a stream of charges spewing from the aircrafts’ underbellies.

  Instinctively, I grab Cole. “Brace yourselves.”

  Loud explosions rock the complex. The monitors and control consoles spark. The force of the blast nearly knocks us all off our feet.”

  I hold Cole tight. “You okay?” I mutter in his ear.

  He nods into my cheek.

  Breck shoots me an accusing look. “How did they know we were here? You must have brought them.”

  “I swear I don’t know. But we have more important things to worry about, like jamming their transmissions before they can request reinforcements.”

  “I’m on it.” Saffron’s already punching commands into the keyboard.

  Breck’s busy checking gauges and readouts. “Looks like the agro sector’s sustained heavy damage. Level Six generator is at fifty percent capacity and dropping fast. Ventilation on levels Ten through fifteen’s been severely compromised.”

  I point Cole toward the exit. “Get back to the research center and lay low in one of the reinforced observation towers.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m staying here.”

  I pull him away, but he grabs on to one of the consoles. “I said go, damn it! It’s too dangerous!”

  But Cole won’t let go. “No. You’re not going to get rid of me, too. I’m staying.”

  My hands let go. I sigh. “Okay. But stay where I can see you.”

  “Kay.”

  Breck points at the nearest screen. “They’re prepping to make another pass.”

  The Vultures swerve in the distance in a smooth arc, swarming back toward Nexus Prime’s airspace.

  I join Saffron at the main com. “What kind of defenses you got?”

  “We’ve got artillery turrets stationed all across the perimeter. They should be able to lock onto incoming aircraft.”

  The fighters zoom across the horizon. Nexus Prime’s gun turrets trail them with a barrage of firepower. A few of the aircraft erupt, glowing like fireflies before bursting into balls of flame and disintegrating. But most of the small, sleek ships dart past and around the turrets, under and over, avoiding the blasts altogether.

  My fist slams against the console. “It’s no good. Those automated guns of yours look like they were designed for a large scale attack. The Thorn ships are too agile. We need something more maneuverable.”

  Breck highlights an area of the holographic map. “We’ve got drones. But none of us have military training. And the team that does is still in deep freeze. By the time we thaw them out of cryo—”

  “Looks like I’m your best shot, literally,” I say. “Give me drone access stat.”

  A series of explosions rocks the complex. Overhead lights burst. Concrete gives way. Steel beams topple. For a few tense seconds, the facility’s pitch black. Then the emergency lights come on, bathing us in shadows and a sickly, swirling amber glow.

  Breck shoots Saffron an anxious look. The latter nods.

  With a few quick movements of her fingers, Breck brings the drone system online and hands me a portable screen. “It’s all yours, flyboy.”

  This tech’s arguably hundreds of years older than what I’m used to, if not more. In some ways, it’s surprisingly more advanced. Between my Imp and Resistance military training, though, I should be able to make up for the lack of hands-on experience using this system. Theoretically.

  On the surface, the attack fleet is systematically knocking out the gun turrets. One by one, they’re engulfed in blinding explosions, toppling over, the impact sending violent aftershocks reverberating down into the bowels of the complex. Wisps of obsidian smoke ooze through the vents.

  Saffron’s face grows pale. “They’ve taken out all of the turrets except for the main one. Now we’re practically defenseless. One more blast like that and the cryostations will be severely compromised.”

  Compromised? Why is it people feel the need to soften harsh reality. “They’ll die. And so will we.”

  Studying the readouts, I try and slow my breathing to quell the rising panic. The system shouldn’t make that much sense to me. Yet—

  I know this system like the back of my hand.

  For once, Queran’s intrusion in my brain is a welcome one. Rather than fight it, I open myself up to it, fusing his knowledge of Nexus Prime’s systems with my own combat experience.

  “Here we go.” My fingers fly over the controls, releasing my own squadron of attack drones into the sky. It actually feels like I’m in the pilot seat again. I maneuver eac
h of my drones into attack formation, guided missiles locking onto the heat signatures of the Thorn ships.

  “Let’s see how much they can take.” I fire one of my drone’s weapons into an oncoming Squawker, clipping it in the wing. The craft spins out of control colliding into another. A Vulture is caught in the fiery wake, and the three craft disappear in a cloud of flame and blackness.

  “Gotcha.” Punching in more commands, I position the drones into a deadly perimeter, closing in on the enemy aircraft like a noose, trying to herd them away from the complex.

  But these pilots aren’t going down without a fight. They’re good.

  And they’re so many.

  One by one my drones go down.

  “Time to change tactics.” I aim each remaining drone on a collision course with the fleet.

  It’s a huge gamble. If I’m wrong, we’ll be completely defenseless.

  Except I’m not really defenseless, am I? I have the power to stop them. All of them

  Just give the command.

  Intense pain stabs my skull, bringing on choppy waves of dizziness and nausea. The control screen disappears in a blur, replaced by flashes of oblong silver, their bright gleam knifing into my brain. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of them, all lined up and waiting. Waiting for me to set them all free.

  We’re ready, Mr. President.

  My hand looks older and steadier. I press my palm against the cold, black box.

  Then come the screams. Growing more intense. Filling my head with satisfaction and agony—

  The memory flickers out, leaving me reeling. Warm blood trickles from my nostrils onto the tablet.

  “Spark, you okay?” Breck rushes to my side, helping to prop me up.

  I slump against the console.

  “I’m good.” Despite how sick my mind and spirit feel, I hit the command deploying the drones on a suicidal course with their targets.

  A series of bright, orange explosions fills the screens. One by one, the drones impact against the Squawkers in their one-way missions.

  The blips representing the drones and the enemy ships disappear from the readouts.

  Saffron squeezes my arm. “It worked. Looks like you’ve taken them all out.”

  Her words echo down the tunnels of my memories. I’ve heard them before, only then, they didn’t fill me with relief, just a sense of impending dread.

  Like the sight of the black smoke dissipating on the screens.

  And the soft bleeping coming from the instruments, growing stronger each second.

  “There’s still one ship left.” I stare at the lone craft, a huge Scavenger cruiser, emerging from the blackness. From the trail of dark exhaust it spews in its wake, it’s obviously been damaged. But it’s still limping along, slowly but steadily.

  Heading right for us.

  Breck’s face is like solid granite. “It’s coming in hot. Fully weaponized. Headed straight for the life support generators. Deep impact estimated within five minutes.”

  I shake my head. “What about the gun turret. Can’t we use it to take them out before—”

  “That’s a negative,” Breck responds. “Looks like the relays between the command station and the artillery centers have been damaged. There’s no way to align the turret’s targeting sensors.”

  I study the readings. She’s right. “Looks like somebody’s going to have to get to the surface, bypass the turret’s auto targeting systems, and blow that ship old school.”

  Saffron and Breck exchange anxious looks. I open a metal case laying near the console and throw in a bunch of tools from nearby shelves.

  “You’ll never make it in time, Spark.” Breck’s voice is quiet and emotionless. “You don’t even know how to navigate the complex well enough to reach the surface.”

  I force a smile and a wink. “You forget just who I am.”

  She gives a curt nod. “That’s what worries me.”

  Grabbing the case, I turn toward the exit and find Cole blocking the way, staring at me with glassy eyes.

  “You don’t have to promise me anything this time,” he says. “Just try to come back soon.”

  It’s hard to swallow the lump in my throat. “I’ll try my best.”

  I dash out of the control center.

  The maze to reach the main gun turret is a blur. I try and block out everything and let my inherited memories guide me. The irony of Queran Embers doing something good for a change fuels me. I sprint down one corridor and then another, dash into one of the lifts, enter a code, and punch the button to the artillery level.

  Impact in two minutes. Breck’s voice booms throughout the complex’s audio system.

  After a dizzying high-speed ascension, I burst free of the elevator into the simmering heat of the hazy desert, and onto a very narrow path leading into a crevice in the mountain. My momentum almost sends me careening off the ledge, which overlooks a drop of hundreds of feet.

  One minute until impact, Breck announces from the elevator’s speakers. The rest is cut off when the doors woosh shut.

  No matter. I don’t need any more warnings to emphasize what’s at stake. All around me, the sky’s filled with a terrible rumbling, like endless thunder. An enormous, dark shadow eclipses the searing sun above me. Overhead, the crippled Scavenger continues its deadly run toward Nexus Prime.

  Squeezing into the narrow crevice inside the mountain that camouflages the main gun turret, I get stuck for a moment. Cursing, I squeeze my way through, ignoring the jagged rocks tearing at my suit and cutting into my skin.

  The tunnel finally opens up. I pull myself through, ripping open the tool box, using the sharp instruments to pry open the panel. There’s a series of wires of all different colors. Somehow, I know exactly which ones to pull and replace, plugging in the portable terminal.

  What do I have? Maybe fifteen seconds left?

  Ignoring the panic, I power on the portable terminal, my fingers jabbing furiously at the keys. There’s a loud creaking. The gun turret slowly rotates, locking onto the falling Scavenger.

  It’s almost like the day’s turned into night. The huge craft blocks out everything, falling rapidly now, almost on top of the life support generators.

  Time’s up.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  I jam my finger on the firing trigger.

  The turret spits out explosive charges at the invading Scavenger.

  Covering my ears, I fall to the floor, wedging myself against two massive boulders.

  The explosions are defeaning. A mixture of steel, rock, and earth pelts down around me. Shielding my eyes, I peek out. The Scavenger erupts, disintegrating in clouds of fire and smoke.

  I slump against the mountainside, allowing myself some relief.

  I did it.

  No. Queran did it.

  The life support systems aren’t in danger any longer. Nexus Prime will survive yet another day.

  My respite dies a very quick and painful death.

  Zipping away from the remnants of the downed Scavenger carrier is a group of tiny emergency escape pods. Though they have no weaponry and have a limited flight range, they’re still equipped with com systems capable of sending out a distress beacon that’ll alert the rest of the Thorn battalions to our position. And we have no guns left to stop them from clearing our jamming range.

  In a little while, the airspace will be crawling with reinforcements. All I’ve done is prolong the inevitable blood bath.

  I activate my Com Stream. “Couldn’t down the Scavenger before it released its emergency evac crew. How long before they’re out of jamming range?”

  The com unit hisses and crackles. “Just under thirty seconds.” Even through the unsteady signal, Breck’s voice radiates hopelessness.

  Can’t say that I blame her. “We need to salvage what we can from the data records and get the hell out of here before—”

  “We can’t just leave everyone behind here to die.”

  “Wait a minute,” Saffron’s voice interrupts Breck??
?s. “Scanner just revealed a fleet of ships heading our way.”

  Her warning is moot. I can already hear the steady thrum of engines rapidly approaching. My eyes search the sky, fixating on the squadron of ships zooming through the clouds to meet the escape pods. “Not sure how they got here so fast when the escape ships have barely made it past the jamming range, but it looks like it’s already too late.”

  “Someone doesn’t have too much faith, Mate,” a familiar voice crackles through my resistance com band.

  “Cage! How the hell did you find us?” A rush of jubilation and excitement re-energizes me.

  “You can thank Dru. She injected Tycho with a tracker when he was in our custody, just like the Thornies did. Now hang on and let the big blokes show you how it’s done.” I can picture the infectious sly grin on Cage’s face as he says those glorious words.

  “Spark, who are these people?” Breck asks, her voice tinged with surprise and relief.

  I smile at my com. “Just some old friends.”

  “Old? Who the hell’s he calling old, Dru?” Arrah.

  “Well you are my old lady,” Drusilla teases on another channel.

  “Cut the chatter you two,” Dahlia breaks in. “We’ve got work to do. We can catch up with the Fifth Tier later. Nice to hear your voice, Sparkles.”

  I chuckle. “Yours, too, D.”

  “Time to sweep up this mess, people,” Corin shouts from another cockpit transmitter.

  The old gang’s back together again.

  More resistance fighters swoop down toward Nexus, creating a perimeter. The new arrivals intercept the pods and escort them to the surface.

  I wave my arms at the incoming ships, exhilarated at the sight of my friends—my people—joining me at last.

  They aren’t really my friends anymore, are they?

  Trying to shake the thought away, I mutter into my Nexus Com, “Roll out the welcome mats. We’ve got company.”

  But I can’t shake that last, relentless thought from my brain.

  ****

  The remainder of the day’s spent integrating the resistance crew into Nexus Prime’s facilities. At first, Breck and Saffron are very skeptical about hosting all these strangers, a sentiment seemingly shared by Rios and the rest of the resistance crew. But with me acting as intermediary in the main conference center, both sides exchange information, reluctantly at first, but then more openly as the proceedings continue.