The puke held up a hand and spoke into a radio for a minute. I looked at my brothers and elbowed them, tilting my head. They chuffed and settled their eyes on the group in front of us. I could have sworn that the little man was shaking. He paused as whoever he was speaking to replied. “Lt. Colonel, we would be honored if you and your soldiers accompanied us inside.”
I looked at the soldiers with me. They nodded and the trio of interns waved us toward one of the administrative buildings. NASA had gone defunct and the government was all too happy to sell the facility to a private corporation. Since then they had been cooperating with the U.S. government to jointly develop next-generation missions. Re-usable rockets, ironing out the wrinkles in future manned Mars missions, that sort of thing. All things considered, they had hit the jackpot with this one. The government was funneling hundreds of billions of dollars into getting the human ship finished. If we survived the end of the world their CEO would be the richest man to have ever walked the face of the planet.
The construction site was overseen by more soldiers. Members of the Air Force, Army, and Marines all patrolled the grounds and offices. I nodded to a few of the Army grunts who stood outside the doors to a large structure. They only stared back, mouths agog at the sight of the alien troops. A few of my comrades grinned at them, making sure to show off their impressive teeth.
Walking into the building with a group of alien soldiers in the middle of the night attracted a lot of attention. Every human in the building stopped dead as soon as they spotted us. To be fair, we were dressed in full armor and carrying very large knives. I would stop too if I spotted us walking into a building.
Our young guides took us to a cargo elevator. They apologized profusely for the accommodations, explaining that it was the only elevator that could fit all of us. When the elevator opened, the interns took us down a long hall into an ornate waiting room. They gestured to the chairs and asked us to take a seat while we waited for Jessie Proctor, the bonafide billionaire who decided that he wanted to live out his Roy Rogers fantasies by heading AstroTech.
Proctor had a history typical of many men in his station. He was a ruthless CEO and controversial to boot. He had stirred up a major contention a couple of years back when he bought up Indigenous land in Hawaii. The local tribes had taken him all the way to the state’s Supreme Court and lost. It was rumored that he was untouchable by United States law not because he outmaneuvered the legal system but because he held unique pieces of damning blackmail against most of the top lawmakers in the country. Nice guy.
I’d seen photos of him on the cover of TIME. He was tall, outstripping me by more than two inches, and his Scandinavian ancestry shone through with blond hair and high cheekbones. He could usually be found wearing designer suits and designer glasses, but it was his eyes that creeped me out. He had bright blue eyes that reminded me of a shark’s. They were dead eyes that stared beyond you. Eyes that searched for prey. The alien soldiers sniffed disdainfully at the chairs and remained standing. They knew that they weren’t welcome here and even pretending that hospitality was being offered them was an insult. Even though I was exhausted and feeling the long day, I joined them and stood at attention. This did not ease the skinny puke’s nerves who was now flickering his eyes back and forth from us to the floor. He was probably wondering which of us thought he looked like a sizable meal.
Proctor strolled into the room and held out his hand before plunking behind a large desk. “Jessie Proctor, a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’m terribly sorry for the delay, I’m afraid it took me a few minutes to make it out of bed. This is our chief of security, Mr. Ted Cady.”
I shook his hand as well. Both men reached out to shake the aliens’ hands but they declined, instead dipping their heads in greeting. Proctor frowned, as if my comrades’ discomfort with touching unfamiliar humans was a personal slight. Can’t say I blamed the soldiers. I was feeling a little contaminated myself. He turned again to me.
“What can we do for you gentlemen? I’ll be happy to help you with anything at all.”
I reached over to the long duffel bag we had brought with us. The soldiers parted as I hefted the bag onto the table and Cady flinched as it landed with a thud. I unzipped the bag and pulled the sides down to reveal the beam cannon.
“I’d like you to explain this, please.”
7
Alexandra
By the next morning, the human diplomats were cleaned, fed, and loaded back onto a shuttle. The diplomats hadn’t gotten any more comfortable with the aliens overnight and many of the soldiers rolled their eyes at me as the ambassadors practically quaked in fear. As we flew, I pulled a connected tablet out of my bag and set to researching. While Jackson was in Florida tackling the corporate overlords about their security breach, I wanted to get some idea as to who might behind the attack.
With my elevation from professor to government liaison came the gift of a shiny new security clearance. The information I now had at my fingertips was nearly endless. I searched intelligence community databases, combing through any groups that tripped the alarm for xenophobia and inciting violence towards immigrants. It was a little bit like diving into the ocean and expecting to only get a little wet. There were hundreds upon hundreds of examples, but when I cross-referenced them with education level, organization cohesion, and most importantly income, I came up with less than ten.
Three of the groups were predictably situated abroad. There was one out of Macau, a group of mercenaries that a Chinese billionaire had put together to hunt down his romantic rival. It would seem that their activities ran beyond revenge however as they had gotten themselves caught up in several gun-running schemes. Another was a sect of “unofficial” government agents out of Russia. They had been employed by their government to dispatch any unsavory individuals the president wanted to disappear. Unfortunately, most of their targets were people that could disrupt the societal norms favored by their government. Homosexual people and people of color were high on their lists.
Of the domestic returns I received on my query, there was far less information available. In the last twenty or so years there had been more than a few anti-government and anti-immigrant groups popping up, but most of them were short-lived. I scanned through the results for those but there was nothing to suggest that any of them were still around, never mind still operating.
When I looked up from my tablet, I caught several of the ambassadors glaring at me. I can’t say that I was surprised. Most of the people in the shuttle with me had years, even decades, more experience of diplomacy than I did. I had heard the whispers. The general consensus appeared to be that I was a jumped-up academic snob, someone who had talked her way into receiving an unearned high honor from what remained of the government. The truth was that I was the best person for the job. As much as I would love to stand up and make the case for myself, it would have been useless. You can’t fix stupid.
We landed just outside of the old United Nations building in midtown Manhattan. The complex had been in continuous use as a diplomatic center since its inception and was well suited for such efforts after the supernova. The building was abandoned shortly after the EMP due to security concerns. A while later the government decided to refit the place. It now served as headquarters for diplomatic staff once again.
The entire group was escorted through steel fencing that had been set up after the event. The alien soldiers were asked to wait in their ship. Our new interplanetary cooperation only extended so far, and I mouthed “I’m sorry” to the squad’s commander as I followed the ambassadorial team inside. She gave a short nod and I hoped that she truly understood how much I disagreed with this segregation. It was stunning how bullheaded humanity was when it came to our relationship with our new allies. We shot them down and they chose to help us. We nearly blew their ship into a crater, and they still chose to help us. If this all went sideways, I couldn’t help but think that we might have deserved it, a little bit.
Once our group was seated in
side, a small team of employees appeared to serve us refreshments. I picked up a bottle of water and a sandwich off a tray and thanked the server quietly. As much as the other ambassadors were used to this, I absolutely despised having people wait on me. I always made sure to slip the servers an extra twenty every time I was dragged down here so at the very least they knew that someone appreciated their work. I sat and ate my meal quietly as I tried to summon up the right words for the situation.
I pondered taking the gentle approach. It was frequently the best way to go; the hand holding usually went over better, especially with men. If I was being honest with myself, I was sick of the gentle approach. Time to do things my way, then.
Before I started speaking, I excused myself from the gathering to round up a few of the aides I knew who frequented the building. I had always co-opted them from their duties on the premise that I needed help with meetings and presentations. The truth is that I wanted younger people in the room who would be free of the prejudices the ambassadors held on to so fervently. I returned to the meeting with a small pack of them. The ambassador who had done nothing but whine since the attack stood and opened his mouth to protest.
“You’ll have to forgive the extra bodies, Ambassador. I wanted to bring in some help for our discussion and these people are familiar with the situation. I assure you, they have the proper clearance. If you discover any problems, you may absolutely have my head on a platter.” I turned to the room and continued.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are here today to discuss two very real threats to our continued survival. As you are aware, yesterday we were attacked by what I can only describe as black-ops soldiers who have no affiliation with any country, government, or organization. These soldiers possess capabilities not previously seen with any human military. They are well armed, well supplied, and have developed weaponry that could put a stop to the construction of both ships.”
I pressed a button on my tablet and an image of the particle beam weapon projected onto a screen embedded into the wall. “This is a particle beam weapon. Previously it was thought that it would be impossible to develop such a thing. It would seem that previous conclusions were wrong. We recovered one of these from the black-ops soldiers who attacked our meeting yesterday.” Another button press and detailed images of dead alien and human soldiers popped up. I heard gasps from the ambassadors behind me and one retched as she ran for the nearest garbage can. “You can see why someone possessing this kind of weapon is a problem. The particle beam weapon discharges a massive electric charge through its target, quite literally cooking them alive.” I picked up the tablet and manually brought up on-scene and autopsy photos of the dead black-ops soldiers and their gear. “Here is what we have to identify these men. Of course, this isn’t our only problem.”
I picked up a dry erase marker and walked to the board adjacent to the screen. On it, I drew a massive number 63 in red and circled it. I turned back to the room. “Sixty-three days.” I tapped the marker against the board. “Sixty-three days until our launch window disappears. Sixty-three days until it will be too late to escape the effects of the supernova. Sixty-three days until the end of the world. I am not fucking around here. We have two months to figure out who is trying to stop both ships from being able to launch. If we cannot discover the source of the attacks, they can and will try again. Let me be very clear, anything that slows these ships’ construction will doom our last chance at survival. Let’s get to work, shall we?”
8
Jackson
Proctor picked up the weapon and turned it over thoughtfully on the table. He looked it over and then turned to his security chief, his brows knitting in concern.
“The leak is obviously worse than we thought.”
“What do you mean, the leak is worse than you thought?” I asked through gritted teeth. My patience with this man was quickly waning. The constant calm tone of his voice made me want to tap my foot in impatience.
“We’ve suspected for about a month that we may have a security breach. We’ve caught clues that suggest that someone has been sneaking alien technology or plans out of the site. You’re a military man, you understand how these things can happen.”
I shook my head. The more time I spent with the aliens, the more I realized that humanity is inexorably, incurably stupid. You could stick a gun in most of these people’s faces and they’d raise their hands but never believe that they could actually be shot. It was absolutely true that the military had been the victims of information leaks over the years but never in this capacity. At least, not in the last century. I didn’t appreciate the subtle dig at our-their-security measures none the less. Proctor continued.
“We have stronger and more sophisticated security in place than any branch of the armed forces. We have better measures to protect the IP and actual hardware than you use for top-secret material. It would seem that someone is managing to leak information anyway.” He tapped a button on his watch and a wall screen flickered to life. On it, there was a device that looked like a massive battery. It was circular with rectangles of some kind of material strapped to it. The entire thing glowed with an unearthly blue light.
“We found a company in China manufacturing these. They’re similar to the energy storage units that our fine friends,” a nod to the soldiers on my left and right, “have been helping us build for the ship. These are essentially a prototype. They function, but not very well. Nasty tendency to overheat and vent into whatever they’re powering.”
He glanced at the cannon. “It would seem that whoever is attempting to manufacture these devices is improving upon their designs. This looks like a perfect marriage between an alien power supply and human-based particle beam technology. An impressive weapon. It must have done a lot of damage.”
I felt my blood pressure rising. The fate of the human race hung in the balance and this moron was busy complimenting the manufacturing quality of the people who were working as hard as they could to kill us all?
“Why wasn’t this reported?” I asked.
“It has been, Lt. Colonel. I have been personally filing regular reports to the Oval Office regarding the leak and our suspicions that China has been manufacturing alien technology in an effort to derail our shipbuilding efforts. We cannot at this time be certain that it is the Chinese government acting directly or if it is someone taking advantage of their manufacturing capabilities. We suspect that whoever is making these devices is well funded, so we are assuming government backing. It’s the Wild West out there, Colonel Jackson, and we can’t monitor everyone. The whole world wants their hands on a piece of this.”
I kept my gaze on the weapon. I had been strongly against involving private parties in the shipbuilding efforts for just this reason. Civilians were unpredictable. Too much had gone wrong involving people whose only hunger was for money rather than order. Desperate times called for desperate measures, I suppose. “You will give my men full access to your facilities. You will give me each and everything you have on the leaks. Everything the President has read, I will read. Everything your people have touched, my men will touch,” I said, leveling my gaze with Proctor. He didn’t blink.
His chief of security huffed. “You can’t just go wandering through our—“ His boss cut him off with a raise of his hand.
“Give the gentleman everything he wants. Our resources are at your disposal, sir.” Proctor smiled at me. I noticed the smile didn’t reach his eyes. This was going to be fun.
“Please excuse me,” I said. “I need to make a phone call. Please have your people put together a dossier on what has happened so far. A tablet will work just fine for us.” I nodded to one of the soldiers who stepped forward, grinning. It was nice to see the two men cower just a bit.
I was handed a tablet a few minutes later. As I scrolled, the headache that had started when we landed here got worse. The information was all over the place. The documents enclosed in the file ran the gamut from blog and forum posts to government communique. Not exact
ly what I’d call a comprehensive picture of the situation.
As I scrolled, I noticed two common themes. The first was the rampant fear and hatred of the aliens. Not everything being talked about was meant for the good of humanity; several documents included calls for attacks against any and all aliens encountered. The second was that there was zero consistency to what the rumors purported to share. Whispers of alien technology capable of perpetual motion, limitless energy, and everything else our species had dreamed of achieving in the last century were scattered across everything.
What Proctor had said about the rudimentary development of technology was absolutely true, however. I found functional plans for batteries and simple weaponry. None of it was particularly notable as the best that had been done so far amounted to practically nothing. There was no way that anyone was hiding their own personal arsenal. Or so I would have thought before today. I thought of my fellow soldiers who had died so horribly, their bodies charred and burnt because of an information leak. I wasn’t a religious man but I sent up a prayer of thanks anyway for their sacrifice.
More documentation, including letters to the President by Proctor, Cady, and a few others who I assumed I had not yet met. They were indeed reports of an information leak, but they were summaries, not details. That wasn’t too unusual when presenting something to politicians. They trusted you to be the experts and it was your job to get them up to speed. The tone of the letters was the most interesting piece. They were all familiar, not formal. The one Proctor himself had written even called the President by her first name. I quirked an eyebrow at that and the soldier scanning through the information with me looked over.
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