Revolution Rising: Rebirth (Revolution Rising Series Book 1) Read online

  “What is it?”

  “Look at all of them.” A bloom beside them split open, spewing its collection of rocky seeds as the petals shuddered to life. He bent and scooped up them from the puddle’s surface before they could sink, adding them to the supply already in his pocket.

  “This is amazing. I thought this land was dead; incapable of growing anything.” Wil shook his head in amazement.

  “Everyone did, that’s why they moved the settlement to higher ground.” Sawyer shuddered as he considered the last hours before dawn. “I don’t want to tell Mav about what we know; he doesn’t need to know.”

  “You want to lie?”

  “No, I won’t lie to him, but I don’t want to tell him until closer to the end. Let him have tonight; a night we all work together to fix his ship.”

  “Okay,” Wil nodded once, shifting the bags he carried and stepping carefully around the puddle.

  The aluminum door gave reluctantly as they stumbled into the building, their supplies clashing to the floor. Sawyer collapsed against the door – his strained arms and legs failing him – as Maverick noticed their return. The boy rushed across the room, flinging his arms around Sawyer’s neck.

  “Told you I’d come back.”

  Sawyer’s shaking voice alerted Maverick as he leaned back and looked at Sawyer. “What is it? What happened? Were you hurt?”

  “Can’t I just be happy to see my little brother?”

  “No, not usually.” Maverick’s confusion and surprise were easily overwhelmed by his relief as he returned Sawyer’s grasp with the desperation of a lost child.

  Sawyer looked to Wil as his friend doubled over, hands on his knees, and shook. “Wil?” Sawyer called out to him calmly, pulling back from Maverick and releasing his hold.

  “I’m okay,” Wil assured, standing up straight and taking a deep, visible breath. “Sorry, all this lovey stuff had me nauseous for a moment.”

  “Shut up, Wilhelm.” Wil took a step back as Maverick approached him, unsure of the younger man’s intent.

  His tension didn’t ease as tight arms wrapped around him. “Wh-What are you doing?”

  “I’m glad you’re safe, too, asshole,” Maverick chuckled as he continued to hug his second big brother.

  “Oh, well, okay then,” Wil pulled back, shrugging off Maverick’s hug as if it was less significant than his shimmering eyes and cleared throat proved. “I need to get that cannon up and running.”

  Carl walked through the large, bunker door, shoving his glasses up his nose as he looked at each of the younger men in turn. “Fuel cells?”

  “Over there.” Wil gestured to where they’d rolled when Sawyer dropped them.

  “How long do you need?” Sawyer addressed the question to Wil, but both he and Carl responded in unison.

  “An hour.”

  “Forty-five minutes.” Wil pouted at Carl’s lower, specific estimate.

  “I’ll finish loading the last crates.” Maverick offered.

  Sawyer considered offering aid as Carl hefted one of the fuel cells with effort – practically dragging it to the ship – but the bag of weapons Wil abandoned by the door was priority. Sawyer recovered the bag of weapons, waiting until Maverick was out of sight before opening it to ensure the prototype was still among them. He couldn’t risk leaving it to be found, not after all that was lost in its name that night. As he stepped into the cargo area of the ship, his mind wondered to where he could safely store the bag. Remembering the layout of the cargo hold from his childhood, Sawyer pulled a grate from the wall beneath the stairs, revealing a hidden compartment. If they failed to escape the TSS attack, Sawyer was confident he knew enough about the ship’s systems to surge the engines; the prototype would be destroyed or encased in melted metal and unsalvageable for those who wished to possess it. Sawyer replaced the grate and turned back as Maverick returned.

  Sawyer worked with Maverick, helping him lift and carry large crates into the cargo hold of the ship. He questioned the purpose of the physical task – the Anastasis could withstand firebombs and small arms fire, but would be defenseless against the TSS cannon – but he enjoyed working with his brother toward a common goal. When they finished, Sawyer dusted off his slacks and looked at Maverick expectantly; “Now what?”

  “Let’s go see how Carl and Wil are doing; it’s been almost an hour.”

  An electric thrill vibrated through him as Sawyer followed Maverick up the two-story flight of steps into the heart of the ship. Though he spent many hours with Anastasis, he’d never ventured past her cargo hold – the stairs too damaged to climb and metal beams blocking any other entrance. Sawyer marveled at the work Carl and Maverick devoted to repairing the ship. Passageways – like points on a compass – surrounded the large, split corridor they entered. Sawyer glimpsed down the corridor to his right as he passed, noting it ended at what looked like a bulkhead door. The hall to his left contained the same. Behind him was a second staircase leading to the lower areas behind the cargo hold, which he assumed contained the engine room and utility areas. A medical facility sat to his right, the panel walls metal below his waist and clear polymer above. Two parallel, narrow beds attached at the floor, sitting several feet apart and surrounded by shining, silver trays, drawers, and cabinets surrounded the room.

  The corridor they followed led to another set of steps, which opened into a gallery. The room was vacant, with only a large, clear, polymer viewing window – exceedingly thick, as he could see it reflecting itself like multifaceted crystal – overhead. Each octagonal section was spaced with the metal used throughout the ship to add strength to the structure.

  “Coming?” Maverick’s amused voice propelled Sawyer up a final flight of stairs to the bridge area.

  A set of circular stairs at his left – littered with Wil’s tools and unused parts – rested just before the opened, bulkhead of the bridge. Carl sat in one of a pair of pilot chairs, motioning for Maverick to join him in the other. Sawyer stepped past the Captain’s chair – back and between the pilot consoles – as Wil descended the staircase, ignoring all he displaced in his haste.

  “Done!” Wil held up his hands in victory as he entered the bridge. “Forty-two minutes; beat that, Crazy Carl!”

  “Seriously?”

  Maverick’s doubtful question drew a glare from Wil, but his eyes lit as Carl glanced back with a disoriented look on his face. “Hear that, ya old koot? I can make her fire!”

  “I can make her fly.”

  “What?” Wil’s excitement disappeared in an instant. “Really?”

  “Only one certainty; action.” Carl pressed the ignition.

  The ship shuddered to life with a pop and crackle, her systems flashing red before settling into the bright colored instrument panels surrounding the bridge. Sawyer was amazed at the familiar systems lighting around him, resembling those of shuttles and transports. Maverick and Carl each sat at their respective stations, working in unison to turn on the remaining unlit dials; the overhead, wall, and floor lights; and bring the final systems online. The hum of the engine grew calm and stable, a soothing purr of pleasure at being reanimated.

  “That’s it,” Carl’s voice shuddered as he stood up from his seat in slow motion. “She can fly.”

  “Show off,” Wil chuckled as he looked around the bridge, his head shaking slowly in wonder. He turned his gaze to Carl and smiled widely, “why do you have to one up me? I fix a weapon’s operation panel and you fix the whole damn ship!”

  “Maybe,” Sawyer warned caution in making such definite claims. “She’s been grounded for a long time.”

  “She will fly,” Carl turned in a circle to survey the bridge; “ANA, diagnostic report.”

  A disjointed, feminine voice crackled before launching into a lengthy report of system names and percentages. “What is that?” Wil asked softly.

  “ANA: Automated Navigation Assistant; she still needs some work, but I’ve got her functioning enough to relate basic information.” Maverick’s
pride in his accomplishment shone in his gray eyes.

  “You made that?” Sawyer asked in shock.

  “The program was already in the Anastasis’s databanks; she was originally programed to keep track of star charts and maintain autopilot systems. I just tweaked her program a bit to expand her control over the ship and uploaded her to the intercom system.”

  “I never knew you could do all of that, turd.” Wil commented and nodded appreciatively.

  “ANA, time to full charge of thrusters.” Carl continued to question the system.

  “Time approximation is twelve hours.” ANA’s robotic voice crushed any hope Sawyer held of escape, the thought shared by Wil’s sudden severity as he turned to clear the steps he’d cluttered.

  “Can she tell us how long until dawn?” Sawyer’s depression consumed him as he recognized the time had come to tell Maverick the truth of their fate.

  “Sunrise will occur in approximately forty-five minutes.” ANA answered Sawyer’s question without further prompting.

  “Why? What happens at dawn?” Maverick asked.

  “They’re going to use the TSS canon.” Carl spoke a statement, but Sawyer confirmed with a nod. “If the Anastasis survives the blast, the resulting electromagnetic pulse will destroy her systems.”

  “What? Why would they do that?” Maverick’s eyes were wide and terrified.

  “To protect their new settlements.” Wil’s lip curled in disgust.

  “From what?” Maverick asked.

  “From us.” Sawyer’s comment sparked a flame in Maverick’s eyes.

  “Were you going to tell me?”

  “I didn’t want to worry you.” Sawyer excused his omission softly.

  “You, didn’t want to,” Maverick growled in frustration. “You, idiot! If you’d told me before, maybe we could have worked up a better plan! We could have started evacuating people hours ago! How are we supposed to evacuate an entire settlement in forty-five minutes?” Maverick’s expression calmed, his body shuddering into an odd stillness. “You never intended to rescue anyone. You were going to run.”

  “There is no plan, Mav; to run or otherwise.” Sawyer shook his head. “I never imagined this old wreck would fly.”

  “So, because you didn’t believe it was possible, all those people out there are going to die.”

  “Listen, turd.” Wil spoke from the doorway, but stopped at Sawyer’s raised hand and slight shake of his head. His face registered understanding of Sawyer’s intent; Sawyer would take his brother’s hate if it meant he never knew the fate of their neighbors.

  “The wise warrior knows when to wage war,” Carl sighed, running a hand over his balding, brown hair as if he was having trouble keeping his tone its standard cryptic tenor, “and when to retreat and return to fight another day.”

  “It doesn’t matter. We can’t retreat; we can’t outrun this.” Sawyer argued his scattered logic, as Carl filled the thrusters in preparation for launch. “What are you doing? We can’t launch; it will be long past dawn before we can even attempt to fly.”

  “No, she isn’t ready to leave the planet, but she can fly.”

  “So, what? Even if we escape the blast, the EMP will fry everything on the planet.”

  Carl stood from his station, confident sanity clearing the confusion from his eyes. “No, the electromagnetic pulse can only be distributed within the lowest layers of atmosphere; any higher to detonate and they risk leaving areas of land untouched.”

  “Can she make it that high?” Wil asked from beyond the bridge, his arm propped against the arched opening to support his weight.

  “Only one certainty.” Carl repeated as he left the bridge.

  “So, we’re leaving?” Maverick looked to Sawyer for confirmation, his eyes filled with resentment. “We aren’t even going to try saving them?”

  “We’re leaving,” Sawyer didn’t mention the probability that they wouldn’t make it far in the relic of a space craft they had available to them. He remembered the last moments before Lieutenant Pierce took his life, the fight gone from his body before he pulled the trigger. Any attempt at survival was better than doing nothing.

  “Where did Carl go?” Maverick’s voice shook suspiciously.

  “I’ll get him,” Sawyer’s offer held an ulterior motive beyond finding their missing comrade; he needed a moment away from the hatred filling his brother’s eyes.

  Sawyer caught up to Carl in the cargo hold. “What are you doing? We need to go.” Sawyer remained at the top of the ramp while Carl stepped off into the hangar.

  “Yes, you need to go,” Carl agreed, looking up at Sawyer for a moment of brilliant, cruel sanity as he continued. “Someone has to stay behind.”

  “No, we all go,” Sawyer denied, taking a step down the ramp, but stopping as Carl’s hand raised in rejection.

  “The door mechanism is beyond repair,” Carl glanced up to the roof over their heads, the panels of its retractable core warped and rusted. “I must keep it open.”

  “Fine, we’ll land outside, and you can…” Sawyer stopped speaking at Carl’s shaking head, frustration making him sigh. “Why not?”

  “You have to cut her thrusters to land. It will take time to prepare them again; more time than is available to us. You have to go – get high enough to escape the blast.”

  “No, Maverick already hates me; he’ll never forgive me if I let you die.” Sawyer denied Carl’s sacrificial offer, something in his chest opening and drifting slowly to the forefront of his mind. Carl’s expression told a secret unshared with anyone beyond the moment. Sawyer’s suspicion crystalized into understanding; “You’re dying.”

  “Alien Disorder,” Carl chuckled darkly at the words as if they held an ironic double meaning. He reached up a hand, pulling at the thin, brown of his hair and bringing away a clump of its length in his grasp. “Because they would rather call us savages than sick.”

  “You’re not insane.”

  “Meh, it comes and goes,” Carl shrugged, his eyes shifting in proof as he struggled to remain lucid. “It’s funny, all of this – all we’ve done, all we’ve explored – and still no greater mystery goes unsolved than our own minds.”

  “That’s why they let you stay here, because you knew what was happening to you.” Sawyer stated, pinching away the pressure between his eyes with his fingertips.

  “I was brought here to find the cause and – if cost effective – a cure. Can you imagine the effort and cost of treating so many sick minds? Our entire deep space program on hold.” Carl shook his head sadly. “Sacrifice one world to build three; ignore the sickly few to save the healthy many; contain the savages to protect civility.”

  “And Flamouria dies.”

  “Purge the failed system,” Carl answered coldly. “Flamouria was the closest habitable world – our salvation – but it wasn’t prepared for us. Because of us, the forests decay, the swamps rise, the crops wither, the livestock die or fail to breed, and the wastes expand; we killed this world like our last one.”

  “There has to be a way to fix this; a way to make this world sustainable.”

  “There’s no time now; when the cannon fires, it will destroy these lands for generations. Not even Nelumbo Noctis Ignus will bloom.” Carl shook his head, looking up at his ship sadly before moving to a panel on the wall behind him, his back to Sawyer until he reached it. “I knew it was only a matter of time until they ordered the abandonment of Flamouria, even before I came here.”

  “If you knew all of this, why didn’t you tell Maverick? You said truth mattered.”

  “Truth is all that matters; in its proper time and place. I never intended for Maverick to die – for anyone here to die. I knew when you returned – the look on your face – they’re all dead.” Carl’s eyes begged for ignorance. “Then, you must save as many as you can.”

  “I still don’t understand why you fixed her if you never intended to leave.”

  “For the same reason you take Maverick’s hate, rather than tell
him all those people he wants to save are dead: hope.” Carl spoke the word simply, giving the term more meaning than if he’d quoted poetry.

  “Hope,” Sawyer cleared his throat at the term he hadn’t heard in years. “That’s not something we have a lot of right now. Chances are, we’ll all be ash in a few minutes.”

  “Funny thing about ash, it’s adaptable. In large amounts it can smother, on its own it’s invisible, but with the right conditions and a little bit of hope, it can build worlds.” Carl reverted to his cryptic voice, but Sawyer understood his meaning this time. “Now go.”

  “Thank you, Carl.” Sawyer smacked a panel on his right, setting the cargo door on its slow retreat into place.

  Sawyer heard the door clang into place as he reached the steps, taking them two and three at a time in his rush to reach the bridge. Wil just finished packing the last of his tools and supplies into a crate beneath the steps he’d cleared when Sawyer reached him. “Where’s Carl?” Sawyer shook his head in response to Wil’s question.

  Sawyer’s steps faltered as the ship shuddered with the force of its thrusters’ final preparation. He regained his footing, the commotion of his misstep drawing Maverick’s attention. The boy glanced beyond Sawyer, watching Wil enter the bridge and staring back expectantly for another figure to enter. His face trembled as realization set in, turning to Sawyer for confirmation of his suspicions. “He’s not coming.”

  “The roof access doors have to be opened manually. If we shut down the thrusters to land, we won’t be able to take off before dawn.” Sawyer spoke softly as Maverick swiped at his moist eyes and turned away.

  “Then, we should go.” Maverick whispered, but made no move to take control of the flight system.