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  ALLY

  THE PLANET HOME TRILOGY

  BOOK 1

  C.A. GLEASON

  Text copyright © 2021 C.A. Gleason

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover art by Darko Tomic

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  1. Melvin

  They remained outside. There were over a dozen of them as Melvin arrived, but they were still visibly nervous. Even with him there. For good reason.

  Every one of them heard the stories. Anything they suspected was true enough to warrant caution.

  All was going according to plan. He already had their currency delivered. Half of what he owed anyway. He would pay the rest after. If they survived. He wasn’t stupid.

  The experiment itself was already under way. The town of Orthal was perfect due to its proximity. Everyone else, who was led inside the experiment itself, originated from other places thus far. Some of the town names he didn’t even know. Nor could he remember.

  “What do we call you? I’m sure you don’t like—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” He hated the nickname he was about to say. It was inaccurate. “You’ll never see me again.”

  “What if there’s trouble?”

  “There won’t be.”

  “Not for you. We’re the ones going in there to get him.”

  “You’ve been paid.”

  “Not all of what we’re owed. What if he fights back?”

  “It’s why there’s so many of you.”

  He hesitated. “When do we go in?”

  The man who spoke was the one he’d put in charge. It was annoying really. How things had to go when dealing with others. Especially dealing with emergers he didn’t know well. It’s why he appreciated his lab partner, Ash. Ash hardly uttered a word.

  Working solo was preferred, and ideal, but with so much to do, he allowed working with like-minded Ash. But being in control was why he was able to conduct his experiments in the first place.

  And being left alone to work as much as he wanted, allowed him to be in control of everything.

  Until he needed to rely on others. Like now.

  “When do we go in?” he asked again.

  “Not yet.”

  The weakling’s anxiety was obvious. It was frustrating. It seemed that they merely wanted to get it over with. They knew about who they were going inside to abduct, but not everything.

  If he told them everything he knew, they wouldn’t go in at all. They probably wouldn’t even have set foot in town. No matter how much currency he offered.

  “He’s just a kid, right?”

  Not exactly. And not as much of a threat he will one day become. “Yes.”

  “So what are we waiting for?”

  “I want it to be darker. Others in this town are still being rounded up. You go in now and they might band together.”

  “It’s why we have guns. And they’re all going in the pit.”

  “Yes, but one at a time. And it isn’t…” It doesn’t matter what he thinks. “Once they’re in line, they’ll go willingly.” He pointed to the pistol the man held shakily. “Drop it and what happens?”

  He stared, confused.

  “There’s more of them than you. If they turn on you, some might escape. I need them all alive. Do you understand?”

  “What if we have to kill the kid?”

  “Don’t.”

  “All this because of him? To see what he’ll do?”

  He’d revealed too much. “The details of my work do not concern you.”

  “It’s a good thing you’re paying me so much.”

  “Us too.”

  One of the others spoke up, to his annoyance. All of their voices sounded the same. Wailing babies. He only wanted to deal with one, which was one of his requirements.

  The man in charge of the others gave the one who spoke up a look.

  That illustrated the power of currency. And my control.

  “When do we get the rest? What you owe us?”

  “I already told you. When it’s done.”

  “But you said we’ll never see you again.”

  True. They wouldn’t. He wouldn’t deal with them after this. “I’m going to have someone deposit what I owe, where you will find it…Do you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Silence.”

  Their voices and quiet mutterings were giving him a headache. The only voice he was used to hearing was his own or Ash’s.

  The approaching storm was not so far that it couldn’t be heard already. Home was unlike other planets, or so he’d been told. There was hardly anything to hinder the wind or the wet. Not where most lived. Where they believed, they were forced to reside.

  Sound traveled easily over Home, or absorbed something loud, and tonight a storm would mask what needed to happen. Even better than he planned. Did anyone else notice the buzz of a storm that practically matched the hum from the net?

  Even if those who were being abducted figured out what was happening to them and why—nearly impossible, he’d plotted carefully—the hum of the net would be overwhelmed by the storm.

  Ironically, even the overseer of Orthal knew what was going to happen. His greedy corruption already received all the currency he was willing to pay out to him. Over half of what he would pay all of these men entirely.

  “We’re ready.”

  “Yeah, what are we waiting for?”

  “Let’s get this over with.”

  The incoming squall intensified their impatience. He was ready to send them in, but it would be his decision. It was his experiment after all. Once they were quiet long enough, he pointed at the house.

  Then Melvin slowly turned to them, relishing his control, the power he wielded over them because of their desperation and desire for something as simple as currency.

  “Now.”

  2. Onnin

  Rain sloshed through gutters, matching the intensity of the rush of blood through his ears. But the storm wasn’t what was keeping him awake. There were also voices.

  At first he thought, hoped, it was his parents. But the voices belonged to strange men. People he didn’t know. They were in his bedroom.

  He didn’t move because he was afraid. He only listened. He was afraid to open his eyes because of what he might see.

  Before falling asleep tonight, he’d been awake for days. While he was awake, he wondered what was wrong with him. He wasn’t like his parents. They slept like normal people, every night, as everyone else seemed to do. He wasn’t like everyone though.

  It figured the night he actually slept, and slept well, he awoke to an invasion. To danger. Was it planned, because someone knew he would be sleeping tonight?

  As his sleepiness dissipated, he heard them better.

  “He’s the one?”

  “Of course. Look how big he is.”

  “He doesn’t look like a boy to me.”

  Gathering the courage to partially open his eyes, he peered around as discreetly as he could. While unmoving and pretending still to be asleep. He definitely didn’t recognize any of the five armed men who stood at the foot of his bed. He doubted they lived in town.

  The two closest to him did all the talking, and the others hung back, but they all held pistols at their sides. They obviously snuck inside the house. Or were they allowed entry? How did they know he would be asleep? He didn’t sleep often.

  And why were they treating him like they were scared of him? He hadn’t done anything to them. He’d never even met them. As far as he knew. And he hadn’t done anything bad to anyone lately.

  When he fought, he just foug
ht other kids, not grownups. Even though he was sure he could fight a grownup. It seemed he might soon have to fight five.

  But he didn’t want to fight anyone. Especially because he didn’t sleep often and he would have liked to sleep a little longer. He was still tired. He’d been told he was somehow still growing.

  He didn’t want to get shot. He must pay attention.

  But all he really wanted was to close his eyes and have all of this go away. For it to somehow be some strange dream, he might remember fragments of in the morning. Being able to continue his sleep would be the dream.

  As the seconds passed and he became more and more awake, he understood whatever was happening was dangerous. Obvious not because them being here was odd, but their behavior was too. They were so nervous.

  It didn’t seem they’d broken in. The more he thought about it that they must have been allowed to enter, invited like guests; because any strange noise or a struggle would have woken him.

  Their entry and their presence—especially in his bedroom—didn’t make sense. Where were his parents?

  The shortest of them, the one who seemed to be in charge, said, “Get up, kid.”

  Onnin didn’t move. He wondered how they could tell he was no longer asleep. He was definitely breathing harder because he was afraid. Maybe they could tell.

  He realized they didn’t care if he was asleep or not. They wanted him to wake up. His ruse worked, but since it wouldn’t help him to pretend to still be sleeping, he opened his eyes all the way.

  “Where’s mom and dad?”

  “Shut your mouth. Get up out of your bed, slowly, or we’ll shoot you.”

  The short man aimed his pistol directly at his face. Lucky for him, there were others to back him up, otherwise Onnin would have taken it out of his hand. He wasn’t sure how he knew he could do it. But he could.

  The short man was a bully, mean, like others who’d been mean to him. He recognized the behavior and knew not to challenge him. He would likely try to kill him faster than the others, since he was in charge. At least in charge of the five.

  Depending on how close they allowed Onnin to get, if he were able to disarm the meanest one, the one in charge, he would be able to fight the rest of them too. Even though he’d never fought grown men before, he was sure he could win the fights.

  But then what?

  Onnin scooted himself off his bed and stood, watching as their heads tilted back as they looked up, attempting to hide their intimidation. They were all as short to him as children were to adults.

  “He’s so big.”

  “You mentioned that already.”

  “I know, but I can’t believe it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. We’re armed.”

  His parents didn’t show up to stop what was happening, as he was escorted through the house. The five were smart enough to remain behind him a few feet, directing him. All of them had barrels aimed at his back when he turned for a quick look.

  His parents didn’t call out or yell at them to get out of the house, or to leave their son alone as he hoped they would. And figure out later that all of this was some sort of misunderstanding. He didn’t even hear his parents. They must have been escorted out already?

  Hopefully, they were outside and safe. But where could they be? Maybe he was being taken to them. Where they were. Where they waited for him. Because he didn’t know, and no one would answer his question, he went along.

  After ducking under the door frame, his view of what was going on outdoors made him feel like he was sinking.

  There were even more armed men, far more than the five escorting him, and he wasn’t the only one in danger.

  His neighbors were being forced to walk out of town. Being led to some unknown destination in the distance. No one fought back. There were too many guns aimed in a threatening manner.

  It started raining even harder and someone yelled at him to keep up with the others. He didn’t have trouble hearing them, they didn’t have to yell, but he realized they were having trouble hearing one another. He didn’t know where they were going.

  What he did know, what he was sure of, was every one of their lives was at risk. What made it worse was he didn’t see his parents anywhere. Calling out to them might cause fingers to tighten on triggers.

  It was best to take as much time to figure out what was happening as possible. Come up with some sort of plan to save everyone. If they reached where the armed men wanted them to go, he knew it would not end well.

  The road was already softened and muddy by the heavy rainfall. The temperature felt cold even to him. Each heavy footstep he took, sunk into deep squishy mud.

  A few people tripped and fell but they were hauled up immediately, and anyone who turned to say anything, to ask a question, was shoved.

  The armed men were in a hurry. They were determined to get everyone to the destination as soon as possible, yelling and waving their guns around. But obviously everyone was needed alive. Otherwise, the few giving them trouble would have been shot already.

  From his view, there were about fifty men holding hundreds of townsfolk at gunpoint. Too many for him to handle himself. Not without help. And now the men who held guns were intermingling among those they threatened.

  Onnin didn’t recognize any of the gunmen, so they certainly weren’t from around here. They’d come from elsewhere and it was obvious they were hired. For something. But by whom? And why? Because of how organized they were, it was likely they’d done this before.

  Strangely, and although he knew his neighbors, who like himself were being forced to march away from the safety of town in the middle of the night, he didn’t recognize their faces.

  Probably because of how traumatized they were. And being honest, his perception was altered too. Because of how afraid he was.

  Some of his neighbors were kids like him, well, not like him in size but his age, and others were adults, and some were old people.

  But they all seemed to have the same mentality, being afraid, and it was no coincidence this was happening in the middle of the night, when people were tired.

  The chaos was also as a result of the storm overhead. Its thunder cracked and rumbled across the sky so loudly, it easily swallowed up the cries of alarm and fear and whimpers from the marching group.

  The harmless protests infuriated the men who forced them on. It seemed they were all about to be punished. But it was just the armed men who thought it was deserved.

  Rain splattered against his face. It stung. And the wind chilled him. He was racked with shivers.

  Then somehow he was so cold, he didn’t feel cold anymore. Instead he felt warm. Something was happening inside him. An ability he wasn’t aware of or ever felt before, became active. He wondered if the others felt the same.

  Peering around as inconspicuously as possible, it didn’t seem so. They shivered or wept. Or shivered and wept.

  Flashing lightning and booming thunder was constant, igniting Home with bursts of light, temporarily blinding him and everyone else, and shaking the land with fury.

  The storm was more powerful the further they were led away from Orthal. He glanced back at the town that was his home.

  He’d never been through something like this before. He didn’t understand why it was happening.

  He could have fought the men and escaped. Except he didn’t want to endanger the lives of the others. They couldn’t fight as he could. His sudden movements might cause them to get shot by itchy trigger fingers.

  And also, his mom and dad could be waiting for him at the place they were being led to. He needed to know more before he made a move.

  Before he knew it and faster than he could anticipate, they were suddenly standing around a large hole in the ground. It was at least a hundred feet across. Maybe longer.

  Not a hole, he noticed upon further inspection as he peeked over the heads, but something that had been manufactured. It looked to be made of metal, probably from the war, but it was impossible to t
ell what it was.

  The lid was destroyed. A place for some mysterious purpose a long time ago. The question was, what was it being used for now?

  The short man, the one who was in charge in Onnin’s bedroom while in his house and who seemed to be in charge out here too, raised his pistol. “In.”

  The man he was talking to was a grown man, but he acted as scared as the children scattered through the crowd. He acted like a kid too, someone who just wanted to go home, as all of them did.

  When he hesitated a moment longer, there was a flash as bright as the tendrils of lightning in the distance but this one came from the end of the barrel. The echo from the gunblast was swallowed up by the storm.

  He fell to the ground, smoke pluming from the sizzling wound in his head, bleeding out into the mud. The man in charge kicked his body into the opening anyway. It disappeared into the darkness. Onnin was thankful he wasn’t first in line.

  A panic erupted. Pushing and shoving. Another man sprinted away into the night. Blasts found his back quickly and he was on the ground. Then the shooters dragged the body back through the parting crowd and threw it into the hole.

  There was a brief second of silence between gasps and lightning strikes. Onnin heard the body falling, smacking onto something on the way down to the bottom. Before he could tell how far the corpse fell, a bellow of thunder swallowed the sound.

  The short man raised his pistol and aimed it at the next person in line, who was a woman. “In.”

  There was no chance of escaping now. Not without causing more trouble. Anyone who ran away would get shot. What happened to the two who were executed, was evidence enough.

  Onnin began to suspect the short man wanted to kill the first person the whole time. It was planned. To show strength. Then the rest of them could be controlled by the fear of what might happen, if they didn’t do as they were told.

  And it surely occurred to all of them that the violence could happen to someone they cared about. It was why Onnin hadn’t done anything. He didn’t want anything to happen to the people he cared about. Wherever they were.