Critical Strike (The Critical Series Book 3) Read Free

Hagellan clicked a reply and the door groaned open with a low metal screech that echoed along the tunnel.
    “Come this way,” Hagellan said through the intercom. “They are two tredeyan wardens. You have no need to fear them.”
    Denver glanced back at Charlie and Layla. They were committed to following, no matter how weird things looked. Going back outside to face the scion fighter wasn’t on the agenda, and they needed oxygen.
    “I’ve got your back,” Charlie said. “We haven’t got a choice.”
    A muffled explosion boomed overhead and the ground shuddered.
    Denver instinctively ducked.
    Hagellan and the tredeyans stood firm, showing no signs of distress, as though they were used to coming under fire from an alien bombardment. He knew that croatoans did react when they thought they were in imminent danger; he’d seen it countless times in their body language on Earth.
    “We need to move,” Hagellan said.
    Denver kept his rifle by his side and advanced. He squeezed the grip, ready to raise and shoot if required. The situation didn’t feel dangerous, but he had no frame of reference for trusting tredeyans.
    Hagellan led them between the two aliens. One turned to look at Denver as he passed. It blinked, making a wet peeling sound as its eyelids closed and opened. The dull armor plates around each limb and torso looked too ungainly to be practical, but when the alien shoved the door to widen the gap, an electric whir came from the elbow area.
    Servo-assisted power suits, he thought. Interesting tech.
    One of the tredeyans followed inside as the door closed. Four thick metallic bolts, at the top and bottom of the frame, electronically snapped into rings, securing it.
    At the end of a short, ten-meter-long tunnel, Hagellan slipped off a glove and palmed a pad attached to the wall. A black sheet of glass at the end smoothly slid open with a quiet hiss, making Layla gasp over the intercom.
    Beyond Hagellan was a huge cavernous space buzzing with activity.
    Denver and the others walked in and glanced around the large square area. It was at least fifty meters across and twenty meters high. And all carved out of solid rock.
    A few hundred tredeyans stood in front of circular green screens positioned on a workbench that ran around the perimeter of the cavern. They tapped on pads in front of them, acting oblivious to the humans’ presence. They wore gray three-quarter-length trousers and nothing on their torsos, which were semitranslucent ivory in color, exposing the dark shapes of their internal organs.
    Their beady eyes flickered from their pads to the screens as they chattered and clicked to each other. To Denver, they resembled biped insects but with almost humanlike faces—if their eyes weren’t so far apart and their noses weren’t actually just small breathing holes covered with a layer of chitinous material.
    High-definition screens attached to the walls displayed streams from different parts of the planet. Most focused on scion fighters and the black prism glinting in the sky. Denver got a chill in his bones when he saw it up close. The thing just looked so… wrong. So… alien.
    “Ugly,” Charlie said through the intercom, breaking Denver’s thoughts away from the prism.
    “They think the same about you,” Hagellan said.
    Denver’s hand twitched on his rifle again. What he would give to plug the bastard right there and then. But he resisted—they needed air and supplies first.
    “This is one of the command centers and staging posts,” Hagellan said. “They control drones, weapons, and communicate with the other defenses.”
    “They don’t seem bothered we’re here,” Layla said.
    “You are with me.”
    “What about blowing the gate?” Charlie said.
    “They stopped using it a long time ago. Only croatoan ships transport through it since we took control of the planet.”
    “Control? I thought you were allies?” Layla said.
    “We are. You can’t begin to understand the geopolitics of my