by Bob Mayer
She had the ruby sphere. Technically, Turcotte had the ruby sphere, but she had the mothership. She also had the future of mankind arriving at Area 51.
She stood up from the command chair. “Inform me immediately if there is any change in the visual tracking of the Fynbar. Or if the Swarm begins to chase it.”
“Yes, Mrs. Parrish,” one of the techs replied.
“Come,” she said to Maria. They left the control center and took the electric cart on the long journey to the Facility.
“Mrs. Parrish,” Maria said, her head cocked, listening to the constant stream of information. “The commander of mercenaries in the pod is quite upset with Major Turcotte for abandoning two of his men.”
Mrs. Parrish sighed in irritation. “Over-ride and vent the pod and the interior crew compartment. They are no longer needed.”
Maria nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Her fingers slid over the surface of her flexpad.
They arrived at the hub for the Facility. It was deserted except for a single guard in combat gear. Mrs. Parrish indicated for him to follow. She led the way down the corridor to the observation balcony. The high-def screens lining the way were dark. Asha was waiting for them when they opened the door.
“Loading is complete,” Asha said, a puzzled look on her face. She indicated the dome. “No one left.”
“Except you,” Mrs. Church said.
“As you instructed.” Asha glanced at Maria, then back at Mrs. Parrish. “I should be following up. The last plane for Area 51 will take off in twenty minutes.”
Mrs. Parrish shook her head. “I’m afraid that is not in my Strategy, my dear.”
“I don’t understand,” Asha said.
“I can’t trust you,” Mrs. Parrish said. The guard raised his assault rifle, aiming at Asha.
“Maria?” Asha said, turning to her. “What is going on?”
Mrs. Parrish smiled. “Now, Maria, I can trust. She’s proven herself. I gave you a chance after your faux pas regarding Maria’s granddaughter. But that wasn’t enough for you. Where did you go earlier?”
“I don’t understand.”
“Say that again and I will have you shot,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Not fatal, but painful.”
The guard put his finger on the trigger.
Mrs. Parrish continued. “Your tracer went off the grid for forty-seven minutes. Where were you? How did you darken the tracer?”
“I’ve been on duty,” Asha said. “Perhaps there was a blip in the system. It happens.”
“No,” Mrs. Parrish said. “It doesn’t happen. The only way the Strategy projects it could happen is if someone is running a sub-routine on Ethos. The only person who could do that is Leahy. She did it when she hijacked her flight. She ended up in Colorado Springs, not here as Ethos indicated. Thus, connecting those two, you’re working with Leahy. How long?”
“I’ve only dealt with Professor Leahy on technical matters,” Asha said. “I can’t remember the last time we—“
Mrs. Parrish interrupted. “You’re lucky. I could have had you brought to Dreamland. Put you in the hands of my interrogation experts. They would extract the truth from you eventually. But time is short. I don’t have time for that. What—“
Asha abruptly turned and slammed her shoulder against the one-way glass with a solid thud. Hit it again. The impact was accompanied by a popping noise.
“It won’t break,” Parrish said. “Dislocated your shoulder?”
Asha eyed the guard.
“Notice where he’s aiming,” Mrs. Parrish said. “He will wound you, not kill you. Because your immediate death is not something I desire.”
Maria spoke up. “Mrs. Parrish, there is nothing in the Strategy about—“
“This is personal,” Mrs. Parrish said. “I was merciful and I was betrayed. My husband will be furious with me.” She shifted back to Asha. “What is Leahy up to? Tell me and I will allow you to go free. Not on the mothership. You’ve lost that right. But you can remain on Earth and face what the rest of the planet will experience.”
Asha drew herself up, looking down on Mrs. Parrish. Her left arm was drooping from the shoulder. “No.”
“So be it,” Mrs. Parrish said. “It’s too late for Leahy. She’s on the run. I’ve got all the power.” She snorted. “You don’t know the truth about her. Let me tell you a secret, Asha, about your friend Leahy. We made her who she is. The Myrddin. She owes everything, her life, to us. And she dares betray us. As you have. But we are the future of mankind’s survival.”
Asha didn’t break eye contact with the old woman.
“You’ll stay here,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Forever. Looking over your greatest accomplishment. Empty. View it as a reward.” She turned away. “Come, Maria.”
Maria led George out the door. Mrs. Parrish followed, then the guard, who waved his badge over the outer lock. The lock clicked solidly into place.
As Maria started to follow, George pulled back on his leash, emitting a whine.
“Come!” Mrs. Parrish snapped.
PAINE FIELD, EVERETT, WASHINGTON
For the first time since it was built, the massive building was empty of Boeing workers. World War III and the approaching alien ship had the world’s population in utter confusion, despair, and survival mode.
But the largest building in the world, the Boeing Everett Factory, wasn’t empty of people. Even in the face of doom, money could buy service. More importantly, backing up the money, was the promise of escape from the doom.
Planes that had been on the assembly line and not completed had been rolled out of the building. Recently completed extended range 777’s and 787’s filled the massive interior, which covered almost 100 acres. Pilots and co-pilots for the planes were on hand, milling about near a large biohazard tent set up on one edge. The tent had clear tunnels leading to it and air filters pumping air in. Anyone entering was donning a protective suit.
Nosferatu and Nekhbet were perched in the beams, high above the factory floor watching the activity.
“Not quite the Great Pyramid,” Nekhbet said, “but impressive.”
Nosferatu pointed at the tent. “The BioCube is in there.”
“Likely,” Nekhbet agreed, sitting on a beam, feet dangling. “There are some guards.”
“There are,” Nosferatu agreed.
“Once more, explain to me why we care about this?” Nekhbet said.
Nosferatu shot her a sharp glance, thinking she was being sarcastic, but he saw a look of genuine interest on her face as if she’d forgotten recent events. His anger was replaced by sadness. “Because they plan on releasing viruses to kill every human. And if every human dies, we will have nothing to feed on.”
“That would be bad,” Nekhbet agreed. “I am hungry now. Perhaps a guard or two?”
A suited figure came out of the plastic tunnel holding a long narrow tube in his hands and paused in the airlock. He stripped off the suit until he was naked. Carrying the tube, he entered a disinfection area, where showers washed him, and the tube, clean.
Then he exited. He donned a flight suit. He went to where the pilots were waiting and indicated to one of them, a woman, to accompany him. The two headed across the factory floor.
“Come,” Nosferatu said.
Nekhbet perked up. “Will we feed?”
“Yes.”
They flitted along the beams holding up the factory roof, leaping from one to another. The large doors at the end of the factory had been rolled open. A 777 was first in line. The two climbed up the portable steps into the plane. Ground crew rolled the stairs away, then disconnected the power source as the plane’s engines started.
The ground crew moved on to the next plane in line.
“Come,” Nosferatu said to Nekhbet. “Our meal is inside.”
They ran along the beams to just above the hangar doors. As the engines revved up and the 777 taxied out the hangar, Nosferatu and Nekhbet jumped. They landed on top of the fuselage. Nosferatu ran forward, Nekhbet behind him.
He paused just above the cockpit emergency exit. “Shall we?” he asked Nekhbet.
“You can talk to one,” Nekhbet said, “but I take the other immediately.”
“Agreed.
Nosferatu put pressure on the lever. It didn’t yield. Nekhbet went to the other side and added her strength. The sound of metal snapping and the hatch fell into the cockpit.
Nosferatu dropped through the opening. He felt Nekhbet behind him. She was onto the female co-pilot, ripping her throat out.
Nosferatu was next to the stunned pilot, grabbing him by neck. “Stop the plane, please.”
The pilot turned to see Nekhbet drinking. “What the fuck! Who are you?”
Nosferatu squeezed, choking off the babbling. “Listen carefully. Stop the plane.”
The pilot pushed the brakes and the plane lurched to a halt.
“Very good. What is your destination?” He relaxed his grip. Nekhbet was still drinking.
“London.”
“Why?”
The pilot fearfully nodded at the long tube. “That’s our cargo. Someone is supposed to meet us there and take it.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Just following orders?” Nosferatu asked.
“It’s the only way to save my family,” the pilot said.
Nekhbet had finished and turned toward the pilot, blood smeared on her face. Nosferatu held up a warning finger.
“Please,” the pilot begged.
Nosferatu looked out the cockpit. They had not cleared the hangar. “I have a thought.”
Nekhbet pouted. “I’ve seen that look before, my love. What are you planning?”
Nosferatu took a deep breath. “You know I love you, correct?”
“Of course.”
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life.”
TESLA LAB, DAVIS MOUNTAINS, TEXAS
Leahy held the Tesla computer between her hands, eyes closed.
Turcotte was returning with the ruby sphere, so they held that powerful, and essential, piece. The Facility was cleared and the Chosen were either already at Area 51, or on their way. The nuclear reactors providing power to the Facility were in the midst of a powerdown.
The mothership was fully loaded with the colonization package, except for the seeds, but they were inbound to Area 51 and would be landing shortly.
Danse? That was no longer a factor in either Parrish’s Strategy or her own given the Swarm factor. She deleted that node.
Leahy scanned the latest world news, all bad. China’s nuclear forces were on a hair trigger, but the India-Pakistan War was isolated to the subcontinent, at least in terms of direct damage. However, its influence was pushing out a very strong, very dark probability line. Computer simulations on a nuclear exchange limited to those two countries indicated that once a threshold of over 100 low-yield nuclear weapons were detonated (which is one half of one percent of the combined US-Russian nuclear arsenals) there would be a number of very negative effects on the rest of the world. Some were already materializing.
Massive firestorms were consuming Mumbai, Calcutta, Delhi, and a half dozen cites in India, along with Karachi, Lahore and other major Pakistani cities. Besides killing tens of millions, the fires were producing smoke on an unprecedented scale in human history. Millions of tons of smoke and ash were rising into the atmosphere, where they would eventually be spread around the globe.
Leahy removed her hands from the Tesla and rubbed her temples. Too much. Too many loose ends this close to the end.
She glanced at a flexpad displaying the Battle Core’s position. Tracking stations around the planet were also picking up clusters of warships and scouts. It would be here soon.
“One thing at a time,” Leahy said. “One thing at a time.” She accessed the Tesla once more and entered her Ethos sub-routine. Found the thread to the dying grid supplied by the reactors. They were almost completely shut down, leaving her just enough to do what was needed. She accessed a program that had been supposedly abandoned years ago.
Hidden among the trees and brush and boulders on an adjacent mountain were over two hundred small openings. They looked like natural breaks in the ground, but all were irregularly shaped and too awkward or small for a person to get into. A few feet in, a mesh prevented any animal crawling in making a burrow. Then the tunnel was smooth, curving downward. These openings were on all sides of the mountain and at various heights. They were all sealed just behind the mesh.
Leahy hit the command to open all of these tunnels. The slates behind the mesh slid aside, allowing air to flow freely. Wind began to enter those facing the draft. The wind accelerated along the sculpted tunnels and struck fans deep inside. The fans began to turn, sending energy to Tesla coils in adjacent caves.
Leahy watched the output as the power flowed. It reached the required level and then went over it, as desired. The excess power was fed to Tesla batteries to be stored for times when the wind on the surface wasn’t sufficient.
As the last of the nuclear reactors ceased their output, the InRotor system was online and fully functional.
Leahy loaded the new Tesla coil into the back of an electric cargo cart and the computer on the passenger seat. She drove to the same door Asha had used, braking at the entrance to a long, dimly lit corridor cut through solid rock.
Leahy looked over her shoulder at the lab one last time. “Goodbye, grandfather.”
SPACE, BETWEEN MARS AND EARTH
Turcotte and Yakov stared at Nyx. She was sitting, her back against a regeneration tube, her helmet on her lap. Labby was next to her, lying down, paws out.
“What is that?” Turcotte pointed.
“My dog,” Nyx replied. “Her name is Labby.”
Turcotte and Yakov exchanged a glance.
“It’s not real,” Turcotte said.
“No. It is—“ Nyx paused—“what you would consider a construct. A robot.”
“Why do you have a robot dog?” Yakov asked.
“To study canis lupus familiaris,” Nyx said.
Yakov found that odd. “Aren’t you actually studying a robot?”
Nyx nodded. “That has been the problem with the research. You see—“
Turcotte cut her off. “Why study dogs?”
“They are the only species we have encountered that changed from predator to companion of Scale and—“
“’Scale’?” Yakov asked.
“Intelligent life.”
Turcotte waved a hand, dismissing that line of questioning. “What do you know of the Swarm?”
Nyx adjusted her position, grimacing. “There is much we know about the Swarm and much we do not know.”
Yakov snorted in disgust. “You’re a scientist, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Let me rephrase,” Turcotte said. “What do we need to know with a big-ass Swarm spaceship heading to Earth?”
“Your planet will be reaped,” Nyx said. “The ship is a Battle Core. There are tens of millions of Swarm on board, if not billions. No one knows exactly. Once it gets in orbit, it will send down warships. Then the reaping will begin. But you know that.”
“What exactly is a reaping?” Yakov asked.
“We don’t know how it plays out,” Nyx said. “We just know the results. The planets where we’ve sent survey teams that have been reaped so thoroughly, there is little sign of the former Scale life.”
“So Earth is done for?” Turcotte said.
“You don’t want to believe,” Nyx said. “It is understandable. All you’ve known is your planet. Your little orb of green. In this solar system. In this galaxy. That might be a good thing. It gives you something naïve but with a kernel of goodness. I believe you call it hope. Even when there is none.” She looked up, her red, cat-eyes staring off for a moment, then she shifted back to the two humans. “I think my people lost that something. A long, long time ago. We have been fighting for so long. All we are is fighting. Everything goes
to it. Not just our lives. Our—“ she shook her head. She pointed at Turcotte. “You. You’re the same. All you’ve known is fighting, Major Turcotte. That is all Lisa Duncan, Donnchadh as she was known on her home world, knew. That is why she flew the mothership into Mons Olympus. I see it now. She was tired. Are you tired?”
Turcotte stared at the alien. “I was. But now? With everything at stake? No. I’m not. How do we defeat the Swarm?”
“You don’t,” Nyx said. “Over the course of millennia the Airlia have only managed to battle off a Swarm Battle Core a few times. And that required large Imperial fleets with many motherships and talons. The space battles were tremendous and are inscribed on the Walls of Honor on every Airlia world. But the losses were prohibitive. We have never destroyed a Core, only forced it to retreat. You have nothing; not even your Tesla weapons can stop a Battle Core. You probably couldn’t stop a single Swarm warship. And there will be thousands of them. With millions of Swarm on board.”
Turcotte took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you fire the solar array at us?”
“I was saving it for the Swarm.”
“That’s not true,” Yakov said. “You came out and fired your personal weapon, poorly, at our soldiers. You knew you would not survive a battle with us. So you were not saving it.”
Nyx looked away. “I wanted to die.”
Turcotte was puzzled. “Then why did you help us fight the Swarm?”
“I wanted to die because I was afraid.” She glanced at Labby. “And then I wanted to live because someone once told me to be the change.”
Turcotte pointed at the ka on a chain around her neck. “Is that your essence?”
Nyx reached up and touched it. “No. It is my research data on humans. On canis lupus. It is forbidden for Airlia to use regeneration. We have very long natural lives, and they are extended by the nanites in our blood, and—“
All of them, including Labby, were startled when a pounding noise came from the top of the Fynbar. Turcotte spun about, sliding into the pilot’s depression. He was checking the instruments when something caught his eye. He locked up to see a mercenary in a TASC-suit pointing his MK-98 at the forward view portal.