“Mother, I don’t understand?”

  “It doesn’t matter now,” she replied, completely dropping protocol. “Sergeant, get your squad on board. You’re getting out of here.”

  “Negative, Mother. We’re heading back to the surface. We’re on our way.”

  Joseph set the mark at the base of the elevators, silently guiding his Marines to the location. They all started running back.

  “Too late,” Mother replied. “Get on that ship, Sergeant. That’s an order.”

  “I’m not leaving my fellow Marines to die up there,” Joseph snapped back, emotions getting the best of him.

  “Too late for that too. Keep the settlers and crew safe, Sergeant. It’s up to you now.”

  Joseph and his squad continued sprinting toward the lifts.

  Something inside the shaft exploded.

  The detonation shook the cavern, blowing rock and debris down the shaft and out into the cavern, where it spread into the air. Joseph and his squad stopped running, freezing fifty meters from the lift, which continued to spew dirt and dust.

  And pieces of a Butcher.

  “No!” Joseph growled, squeezing his free hand into a fist. “Damn it!”

  “T-minus twelve minutes,” the loudspeaker announced.

  “Mother, Mother, do you copy? Mother, come in.”

  No response. Joseph tried three more times, the results always the same.

  The Magnificent Bastards were all dead, except for his squad. They should have been up there, not down here chasing shadows.

  Joseph paused, understanding hitting him like a lead pipe. Captain Grant knew the Marines wouldn’t abandon the defenses. He wanted...needed them on the ship. He had lied to them to get them to come. Mother was right. Son of a bitch.

  He turned around, looking up at the huge thrusters again, suddenly seeing them in a completely different light. For as angry as he was at Grant, he understood why the captain had done it. And it only made him angrier. It also sent a wave of resolve through him. The others had died to save Pioneer and to save him and his squad. He was going to make sure they hadn’t died for nothing.

  “What do we do now, Sarge?” Morales asked.

  “We do what the Colonel told us to do,” Joseph replied. “We get on board.”

  10

  Grant

  Pioneer. Bridge. 11.11.2052. 1330 hours.

  “Oslo, status,” Tyson said, pausing mid-pace in front of the holotable.

  “Sir, all systems are nominal. PAP is stable,” Oslo replied over the comms. “Launch sled is online. Life support is solid. All pre-launch checks are good.”

  “Excellent,” Grant replied. He turned to Commander Siraj. “Are all of the workers on board?”

  “The last group is coming up now, sir,” Siraj replied. “The hangar doors are already beginning to close ahead of them. We’re bringing this down to the wire.”

  “Because we have to. What about the Marines?”

  “There are eight Marines from the two-four with them, Captain.”

  Tyson shook his head. “Only eight? What about Colonel Hale?”

  “She isn’t with them, sir.”

  Tyson exhaled sharply. Damn that woman. She had to play the hero. Eight Marines. The Guardian program called for twelve. It would mean each pair would need to do extra cycles out of hibernation, but they could make it work.

  “Were you able to contact Nash?”

  “He’s waiting for you on the comms, sir.”

  Finally. Tyson narrowed his eyes. Dealing with the Governor suddenly felt painful. “Put him on.” He paused for a moment in preparation. “Governor Nash.”

  “Captain Grant,” Nash replied. “I hear we’re executing an emergency launch in…” He paused, apparently checking the time. “...three minutes. There hasn’t been a single announcement to the people of Metro.”

  “No, and there won’t be. Not from me.”

  “You’re the Captain of this ship.”

  “And you’re the Governor. I’m trying to avoid panic because we’re leaving early. I started calling for you ten minutes ago, but you took your sweet time getting to the comms.”

  “I had other business,” Nash replied.

  “It was a priority one communique.”

  “What do you want me to say, Captain? I’m sorry.”

  Nash’s tone of voice forced Tyson to bring his emotions under control before he spoke again. “We have three minutes. I need you to make an announcement to the people. Tell them launch is imminent and to secure themselves as outlined in the documentation they all received.”

  “On their hands and knees, begging for survival,” Nash said.

  “On their hands and knees to protect themselves while we modulate the counter-inertial generators and gravity coils to minimize potential damage to the city and injury to its inhabitants. There isn’t time to argue semantics, Governor.”

  Nash paused for a moment. “Yes, you’re right, Captain. It will be done.”

  “Thank you,” Tyson said. “And one other—”

  “He’s already gone, sir,” Siraj said, cutting him off.

  “He’s going to be a complication,” Tyson replied. “Count on it.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s out of our hands.”

  That was the worst part of it. The decisions had already been made. Even before the paperwork was signed, he hadn’t had the authority to alter them. “God help us all.”

  Tyson turned to the primary display, the feeds from the external cameras mounted across the ship. All of the activity was over. All of the people were gone. A single crane was just finishing lifting a bucket of workers and Marines to the hangar, only a minute ahead of the hangar doors closing and sealing. Then all of the flood lights went out, leaving the ship in total darkness.

  Tyson’s heart fluttered slightly, butterflies in his stomach. Nervous, excited and sad. For Colonel Hale and her Marines, and for the rest of humankind. He didn’t want to leave Earth behind. He was angry at the trife for destroying it. Would Avalon be the place they all hoped it would be?

  “T-minus one minute, sir,” Siraj announced. “You should strap in.”

  Tyson nodded, circling the holotable to the command station. “Commander, I have the conn.”

  “Yes, sir,” Siraj replied, stepping down from the station and moving to the empty workstation directly in front.

  Tyson sat down at the command station, pulling the safety harness over his shoulders and snapping it in place. If everything went well, he wouldn’t need it. The ship’s systems were designed to minimize the effects of gravitational force. He had always thought the prospect impossible, something reserved for science-fiction. But physics at the quantum and subatomic level had made for some amazing discoveries.

  Just in time, too. It was almost too perfect to be coincidental.

  Tyson looked down at the command station, eyes crossing the segmented panels that designated the individual displays spread across the bridge.

  “Ignite main thrusters,” he said.

  “Aye aye, sir,” Siraj replied. “Thrusters online.”

  Tyson glanced up at the primary display. There was a camera mounted near the propulsion. A dim blue glow proved they were ready to fire.

  “Prepare for cavern detonation,” Tyson said.

  “Aye aye, sir,” one of the crew replied. “Explosives are armed and awaiting your order.”

  “Increase power to sled, ten percent.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  “T-minus thirty seconds, sir.”

  “Increase power, thirty percent.”

  “Aye aye, sir.”

  Tyson looked at the command display as Pioneer shuddered slightly. The increased power to the sled was beginning to lift it and the starship off the ground.

  “T-minus fifteen seconds, sir.”

  “Fifty percent,” Tyson said. The ensign acknowledged, and power increased.

  “Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.”

  “Trigger the explosives,” Tyson ordered.

  “Aye aye, sir. Explosives triggered.”

  The sound of the explosives that ringed the cavern was muffled on the bridge buried deep within Pioneer. Tyson looked at the displays. Right now, everything was dark. But the explosives were designed to remove the top layer of mountainside and set Pioneer free. They blasted the stone outward, sending huge sprays of earth into the air and breaking open the cavern like the ship was hatching from a shell.

  Daylight began to filter in through the dust and debris, the darkness through the cameras lifting.

  “Zero,” Siraj said.

  “Increase power, one hundred percent,” Tyson said. “Fire main thrusters, ten percent.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Ten percent.”

  Tyson watched the command station, ensuring the counter-inertial and anti-gravity systems were attenuating properly, though the fact that he couldn’t feel much movement suggested they were. He also eyed the readings on the three fusion reactors and the thrusters. While he didn’t have the fine-grained details PAP control could access, he could see everything was running smoothly so far.

  “One hundred meters,” Siraj announced, even though he could see the altimeter changing as they began to climb. “Two hundred. Three hundred.”

  They were free of the mountainside in seconds. Tyson began to feel the pressure of the launch, the g-forces increasing despite the countermeasures. It was too much to keep steady, pressing him down and back into his seat.

  “Main thrusters, thirty percent,” Tyson said.

  “Aye aye, sir. Thirty percent.”

  The ship continued to climb, the ascent becoming visible through the hull cameras, the surface shrinking beneath them. Tyson swallowed hard when his eyes crossed over the landscape, looking for Denver, and then Los Angeles and San Francisco, and then Chicago and New York as they continued to climb. Everything was grey and brown, the destruction visible from the increasing altitude. He was sure when he could see other countries—the United Kingdom, Germany, Russia—it would be the same. Only the coldest of locations were spared from the trife, but so few people lived there it made little difference.

  He shifted his eyes from the down-facing cameras to the top feeds. The sky was darkening ahead of them, space approaching. Within a minute they were at thirty kilometers and still climbing rapidly.

  Tyson allowed himself a small grin. The launch was going as smoothly as he could have hoped. Hundreds of systems, and they were all running perfectly in unison. It was a testament to the people who had put it all together. Incredible work.

  Pioneer continued to climb. Thirty-five kilometers. Forty.

  “Release the sled,” Tyson said as the ship made forty-five kilometers. “Main thrusters to eighty percent.”

  “Aye aye, sir. Sled released. Thrusters to eighty percent.”

  Pioneer shook faintly as the clamps holding the launch sled released, allowing the huge structure to fall away from the ship. With any luck it would crash land onto some trife.

  Pioneer continued to rise. Sixty kilometers. Seventy. The ship ascended into the thermosphere, the hull beginning to heat up as it pushed through. Tyson split his attention between the view of space through the orange glow of heat from the cameras and the readings that monitored hull temperature. Everything still looked good.

  They broke through the thermosphere. The systems adjusted gravity and inertia so smoothly Tyson never even noticed the change, only that he felt as if he was still on the ground. The blackness of space stretched above and ahead of them. The blue marble of Earth continued to shrink away behind.

  “Launch successful,” Commander Siraj announced simply.

  They had done it. They were in space.

  All of the crew remained silent this time, waiting for Tyson to determine how to handle the moment. He could sense the excitement on the bridge, but also that same underlying current of fear and regret. Looking at Earth shrinking behind them, he couldn’t help thinking of the poor souls who would never get away from the dying world. The trife would hunt them down and kill them, and in time there would be no one left. It was a painful thought.

  “An intentional minute of silence for all the people of Earth we’ve left behind,” he said, bowing his head and closing his eyes. He counted sixty seconds in his head before lifting it. “Congratulations to all of you,” he added, remaining stoic. He couldn’t bring himself to cheer. “Well done.”

  He leaned forward, opening a shipwide channel, including Metro this time.

  “Attention all hands. Attention all hands. This is Captain Tyson Grant. As you know, we were forced to accelerate the launch timetable in response to a growing threat outside the facility. As I’m also sure you know, our launch is a complete success.”

  He paused there, in case anyone did cheer. He imagined the people of Metro might. They were civilians who had been through hell on Earth and gotten lucky enough to be selected for their skillset. It wasn’t only CEOs like Nash or scientists or engineers. Elementary school teachers, seamstresses, law enforcement. Cities didn’t thrive on a single type of job but on a range of specialities and education, and they had done their best to fill in every possible gap.

  “Pioneer is now steadily moving away from Earth. In a few hours, the ship will course correct for our destination and thrusters will burn at one hundred percent for a long acceleration. The past is behind us. The trife are behind us. The future is ahead. As I did with my crew, let us offer a moment of silence for all of the loved ones lost to us, and to those still on Earth.” Tyson went silent a second time, though he kept the period shorter. “Thank you. The hard part is over. Let us look forward to our journey together, and the hope of a new life for your descendents on a new world. Captain Grant, out.”

  Tyson closed the comms channel before leaning back in his seat, about to let himself relax for a couple of minutes before calling back in to command. He had followed regulations to get permission for the launch, now he needed to tell them it was successful.

  The comms indicator light flashed.

  “Captain Grant,” Chief Engineer Oslo said. “Sir?”

  Tyson tapped the comms control. “What is it, Chief?”

  “Sir, we have a problem.”

  11

  Grant

  Pioneer. Bridge. 11.11.2052. 1400 hours.

  “What do you mean we have a problem?” Tyson replied, a sense of unease overtaking him. The launch had gone too smoothly. Too easily. Of course something had to go wrong.

  “Sir, nothing to get too concerned about,” Chief Oslo replied. “Apparently one of the charges on the cavern was misplaced. It blew some debris back onto Pioneer as we launched. Structure is fine. Hull is intact. But it looks like we took some damage to the tower.”

  “How bad is it?” Tyson asked. The tower was the highest point on the ship, a small raised area where the primary sensor and comm equipment was located. Depending on the extent of the damage, the outcome could be minor or disastrous. The ship’s computer needed sensor data for its guidance systems.

  “We’re running diagnostics right now. I should have results soon.”

  “Thank you, Chief. What about the rest of the systems beyond power and propulsion?”

  “Sir, I’ll drop in on the other engineering modules as soon as I have the damage report. None of my POs have reported anything out of the ordinary. Oh, here comes Petty Officer Branson with the damage report. Standby, sir.”

  Tyson waited patiently while Oslo silently looked over the report. “Sir,” he said at last. “It appears the EMF detector is offline.” He paused again. “As are long range comms.”

  The EMF detector was helpful but not critical. The comms? “I suppose I won’t be contacting command to report our successful launch after all. Unless you think you can get it working again?”

  “We’d need to get a better assessment of the damage, sir. Unless you want to slow our acceleration we can’t put anyone outside to take a look-see.”

  Tyson considered the option for a moment. Was it worth delaying the trip an unspecified amount of time solely to tell command the launch was a success? They must have been tracking the launch, and would have seen Pioneer reach orbit. Besides, they would be on their own soon enough anyway. “No,” he replied. “Assess the damage. If it’s critical to our mission we’ll slow to repair it. Otherwise we’ll stay the course.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Grant out.” He leaned forward and disconnected the comm before leaning back and exhaling, allowing himself a moment to relax. They had done it. They had made it off Earth, and the truth of that new reality still hadn’t sunk in.

  He was a seagoing ship’s captain, not a starship captain. Looking at the primary display, his eyes wandered from camera to camera, taking in the views. There was Earth, getting continually smaller behind them. There was the moon, so close he felt like he could reach out and touch it. There was the sun, closer than he had ever been to it. There were the stars, so many he could hardly believe it. They called space the black, but the volume of shining bodies it held made it seem almost white.

  Even seeing space up close, he could hardly believe where he was, how he had gotten here and where he was going. In a sense, it was a shame the ship’s systems provided false gravity and inertial dampening. He wanted to feel weightlessness and g-forces, to experience space flight the way the original astronauts did. But who was he kidding? He doubted his stomach could hold up to that.

  It would be a long journey to their new home. For him, it would happen quickly. For the people of Metro, the precious cargo, it would take more than a lifetime. Nobody in the city today would be alive when they reached Avalon. Nash was right that they deserved to make it after all they had been through. It just wasn’t possible. He had seen death and destruction firsthand. He had talked with survivors who’d made it out to sea with him. Life in Metro was a massive step up from what they’d left behind.

  Tyson sat forward again, unstrapping himself from the seat and standing up. They had made it to space, but there was still a lot of work to be done. While they had only launched a couple of hours ahead of schedule, the last-minute rush had left things more disorganized, the crew shaken. It was his job to be seen as the steady hand. To show his crew the confidence he had in them and in the ship to get them safely to their new home.