“It wasn’t like this before,” said Jack looking up at the great wedge of darkness in front of him. “It must be new. Ever since…”
“The Scourge attack upon Earth,” said Vyleria, her eyes appearing to haze over for a second.
“Vyleria, are you okay?” asked Jack, reaching for her elbow.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, jerking her arm from his grasp. “Now are you going to get a move on with those scans or not?”
“Vyleria, I thought you’d never ask,” said Jack, trying his best to ignore her temper.
“Jack,” hissed Vyleria. “We can do the scans of Earth just as easily from the spaceship you know.”
“But this is more FUN!” said Jack, looking-up at the dark slab of rock in front of him. “Besides, I need to practice my rock climbing skills and what better way than scaling up the side of a comet.”
Jack snaked up the grey rock face, inch by zero-gravity inch. He turned around as a clump of dust broke loose from under his right foot, twirling effortlessly into the void like a web of silk. It twirled away for over half a mile, before it was dragged back to the surface, the comet’s gravity flinging it violently against the hull of their spaceship.
“Will you stop messing about?”
“I…”
“Save it, Jack. What’s taking you so long anyway?”
“I’m taking my time, Vyleria. It’s amazing, I feel part of the solar system, of the entire universe. This comet has been here since the very beginning.”
“I’m sure it has, but the quicker you get your scans done the sooner we can find Ros and get OUT OF HERE. We’ve been here too long as it is. Jack?”
“I’m listening, Vyleria. You know there was a time when you would be out here with me, taking it all in, enjoying the view.”
“Those days are over.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Jack crept out of the shadows and looked around. The tail of the comet trailed off into space like a huge white snake. Up above was a huge golden ball surrounded by a mane of fire, a well of stars shimmering beneath him. In the distance, a green/blue sphere and a small grey dot were performing a delicate ballet.
Earth.
It had been a long time. Too long, he thought, thinking of his Mum and Dad.
He pointed his holo-watch at Earth and zoomed-in with his space-lens’. These were like normal contact lens’, except that they were far more advanced. For a start, they could zoom in on a planet like Earth even if it was hundreds of thousands of miles away. Together with his ear implants he could also tune into any one of the billions of signals beaming out from Earth every minute into space. He could watch T.V if he wanted, or else stream a movie. If it wasn’t for the war, he would have.
He zoomed-in on the green splodge of land that was North America, wincing at the dark stretch of nothingness that used to be the U.S. state of Nevada. The black hole or whatever the Scourge had detonated a few months earlier was still showing no signs of growing. How many had died in the attack? Millions, he remembered. My mum and dad amongst them…
His ear implants and space lens’ flicked through millions upon millions of frequencies and broadband connections. Finding, searching, triangulating like computerized bloodhounds.
In a little less than three seconds he had found his quarry: Area 51. Or at least the new one at any rate. The old one was somewhere between what used to be Nevada and whatever lay at the bottom of that hole. Jack shuddered and then abseiled his way back down the mountain to the spaceship.
“You could have just beamed aboard,” said Vyleria.
“Yes, I could,” said Jack.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Look, do we have to do this now? Can we not just get on with this without any more arguing?”
“What? I was never…”
“They’re in Greenland,” he said, cutting her off. “Well, under it at any rate.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jorge.
“They’re under the ice,” said Jack. “The base looks huge. It looks like every TR3-b in the American arsenal is down there. From what I saw they are preparing for something big.”
“Like what?” asked Jorge.
“An invasion.”
“There must be another way,” said Vyleria. “This is too rash, too dangerous. You’ll get captured for sure.”
“Perhaps,” said Jack, arrowing their ship towards the huge white tooth beneath them. “But it will get their attention. We don’t know what’s happened since the attack, the Americans may have changed, become less hostile. They may even welcome us and ask for our assistance.”
“Oh yeah,” said Vyleria. “Then what are those?”
Jack looked down towards the surface, a slab of ice spreading out beneath him like a giant white pancake. Ahead were several flashing pinpricks of light, each one forming a large triangle.
Their spaceship vibrated like a pneumatic drill as the first missile impacted against their hull, sending a shower of red hot sparks cascading down to the ground.
Then another slammed into their undercarriage, smoke billowing like a tornado.
More followed. The whole sky was on fire.
“You’re going to have to destroy them,” said Jorge.
Jack looked behind him. He was still holding her hand. He would have to get used to THAT. Somehow.
“I’ve not skimmed across innumerable galaxies and solar systems just to kill humans. Besides, they can’t hurt us. Our shields…”
“Well, what then? We’ve got to get their attention somehow. Perhaps if we just shoot one of them.”
“I said NO. Besides, too many humans have died in this war already,” he said. Mum, Dad… “Too many people everywhere.”
“Well, we can’t just fly around and become target practice for the American military. We’ve got to do something!”
Jack hated to admit it but Jorge was right. He had to do something – and quickly. He had to think out of the intergalactic box, he had to....
“I’ve got it!” he yelled, turning the ship around and taking it back towards the comet.
“What are you doing?” yelled Jorge. “The enemy is back there.”
“Why speak to sheep when you need to talk to the shepherd?”
“Jack, I don’t understand,” said Vyleria. “What’s livestock got to do with anything?”
“Everything,” he said, grinning. “Just watch.”
Then he vanished.
Chapter Eleven: The Oval Office
“The voters aren’t going to be happy with this. You know how the economy has been since the attack. It’s bad everywhere now, at home, abroad. Everybody is suffering.”
“But that’s no reason to be indecisive, to dither. We’ve got to be brave enough to make decisions if we’re going to get out of this.”
“It’s not going to be popular. Your approval ratings…”
“Mr. Secretary, I’m the first female African-American President of America. My ratings were low to begin with. If Jim was here then maybe things would be different, but the greys thought differently and with him in Las Vegas at the time of the attack…”
“Yes, I know, but… Madam President, what are you looking at?”
“Who’s that boy?” she asked, pointing towards the fireplace. “Who let him in? We can’t afford any more leaks.”
“Hi,” said the boy, raising his right arm as if to shake her hand.
Suddenly a stampede of suited guards roared into the oval-shaped room, shiny, black revolvers pointed at the boy’s head and chest.
“Who are you?” asked the woman. “I swear if you’re working for WikiLeaks…”
“Who? Oh them!” said the boy. “No, no I don’t work for WikiLeaks, or CNN either for that matter. Or Fox. I’m from outer space.”
The room burst out into laughter. Even the men in suits took time to have a little chuckle.
“Don’t tell me,” the woman said. “You’re from Mars. No wait, it must be Venus.” She grinned bro
adly.
“No of course not,” said Jack. “I’m from Earth. Just like you.”
“Well of course you are. You just live in space, right?” she said. The room erupted into laughter again.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. My name is Jack Strong. I…”
“You want me to believe that a teenager – and one from the U.K no less – has his own personal space station?”
“It’s a spaceship actually.”
“Of course it is. Can you fly too?” More laughter.
“Sure.”
“I’ve heard enough. Take him away John,” said the woman to the suit on her left. “This one’s for the psych ward. Just don’t let the Press hear of it. We are in deep enough shit as it is.”
“Of course, Madam President,” said the suit, moving towards Jack.
“Right then, I’ll show you,” said Jack, igniting his rocket boots a little bit.
Jack rose about a foot into the air, stunning the room into silence.
“Now that we’ve got that sorted…”
There was a loud crack, followed by the bitter smell of gunpowder as a metal shell the size of a pen top hurtled through the air, cannoning towards Jack’s chest. But just as the bullet was about to pierce his heart and blast his rib-cage all over the wall behind him it stopped, falling effortlessly onto the blue carpet.
“What the?” said one of the suits.
“Standard space armour,” said Jack. “If you don’t believe me fire again, fetch a tank even. It can resist anything you throw at it.”
“We’ll see about that,” said the suit, raising his pistol for the second time.
“Frank, holster your pistol!” barked the President.
“But Ma’am he could be from ISIS or Al Qaeda or…”
“And when have you known a terrorist to sport the latest in intergalactic weaponry?” she said, “Besides, I gave you an order. Now lower your gun.”
“Yes Ma’am,” said the suit, directing his gun at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” said the President, looking Jack dead in the eyes. “We seem to be getting off on the wrong foot here. Ever since the Grey attack things have been extra jumpy.”
“But the Asvari didn’t attack Earth, Madam President.”
“What are you talking about? Of course they did,” she said. “We have the radar tapes and everything. A fleet of flying saucers was seen in the vicinity of Area-51 shortly before the attack. It can’t be a coincidence. The sheer number of casualties…”
“Are not the Asvari’s responsibility.”
“The Asvari?”
“The greys, Madam President. It’s what they call themselves. The term grey is seen by them as being derogatory, an insult. Actually, it was invented my members of the United States military shortly after the Roswell incident.”
“They attacked Earth!” yelled one of the suits to Jack’s right. “We can call them what we like. My sister died in that attack. She was in Bishop, California with her two sons. If she was one mile further out she might have made it.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” said Jack, looking him in the eyes. The man looked angry, sad. “My Mum and Dad were in Las Vegas. They were there on holiday, mourning my supposed death some months before.”
“Now I know who you are,” said the President. “I thought I recognised your face. I read about you in the New York Times a few days after the attack. Such a tragic story. One amongst many. If I remember correctly a U.K policeman claimed to have seen you a few weeks later, but it was put down to stress and overwork.”
“He did see me. And now I’m back.”
“To do what?” the President asked.
“To save Earth.”
“From who?”
“The Asvari.”
“But you said…”
“I know what I said. That was then this is now. Events have changed.”
“But how can I trust you? How can any of us? How can America?”
“Because I’ve got evidence.”
“Of what?”
“Of who was behind the actual attack. Madam President can you spare me an hour of your time?”
“Sure. If you can fix this, you’ve got all the time in the world.”
“Madam President this makes no sense,” said one of the President’s aides. “We’ve already seen this footage. This proves nothing.”
“Oh yeah,” said Jack, standing in front of the monitor. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Watch.”
Jack used the spy satellite’s feed and zoomed in on a giant grey hangar in Area-51, his fingers hovering over his holo-watch. “According to the information I have this was just before the attack started. All we need now is a little trickery…”
Jack swiped the screen of his holo-watch and the roof disappeared to reveal a hangar full of TR3-b’s, flying saucers, and several cigar-shaped UFO’s.
“I see that I’ve got your attention,” he said, eyeing the now silent room. “Watch.”
Jack zeroed-in on the centre of the hangar and watched as a tall figure in a white lab coat strode over to a black sphere-like device on the floor, nonchalantly pushing a button on its side. The black sphere then began to whir and pulse with life, before it suddenly collapsed into the ground with a fizz of electricity.
Jack watched silently as shell casings and rounds of spare ammunition drifted into the hole the sphere had created, swiftly followed by rifles, rucksacks, other pieces of equipment and then finally bodies as a stream of screaming soldiers plunged headfirst into the hole.
“This man,” he said, pointing at the pale-faced figure as he morphed into a smoking pile of pumice and fire, “is responsible for what happened to Nevada, not the Asvari. Madam President…”
“Yes okay, turn it off,” she said as the hangar started to crumble away before them, followed by more screaming men and material. “I’ve seen enough. We all have.”
“They’re called the Scourge,” said Jack, switching to the spaceship’s footage of the battle in the belt as a TR3-b went up in a violent burst of smoke and flames. “They’re trying to play you off against the Asvari, to divide us.”
“But this doesn’t fit with the information General Stormborn gave us,” said one of the suits.
So, he’s alive…
“It was him that gave us the radar tapes of the grey saucers, if I remember,” said another aide. “Could it have been faked?”
“Only General Stormborn can answer that,” said the President. “Call him in. Tell him… no, don’t tell him anything. I want to keep him off guard. He’s too slippery by half.”
“And until then?” asked another of her aides.
“Until then we talk. Right Jack?”
“Right.”
“Jack, there’s no way I can do what you’re asking.”
“Why not?”
“Because we haven’t got the resources or the money for one thing. The attack on Nevada has crippled our economy, the whole world in fact. Half the workforce is unemployed. There are strikes and protests everywhere. Nationalism is on the ascendancy again. All around the world populists rise and pick fights with their neighbours. War is brewing. If it’s not ISIS, then it’s Nazis or communists. Jack, we’re on our knees. How are we to be expected to wage intergalactic war when we can’t even provide people with their basic needs?”
“Perhaps I can help.”
“How?” asked the President.
“My spaceship.”
“What about it?”
“I have access to technologies you’ve never dreamt of, ways to generate power that will fulfill all your basic energy needs and more for nothing. Just imagine the potential, the future.”
“But…”
“Jack, no!”
“We have to,” he said, turning round to face the figure that re-materialised in front of him. “Otherwise we don’t stand a chance. Earth needs to be strong, united, not broken-up into little pieces, fighting amongst themselves.”
“But…”
“I haven’t finished Vyleria. We have to do this. It’s our responsibility. We have to fix the Scourge’s mess before they do it for us.”
“What do you mean?” asked the President.
“This was just the first shot in a long, drawn-out war. They’ll be back. Perhaps not tomorrow, perhaps not even in a hundred years, but one day when the last nations of Earth are still squabbling amongst themselves in their petty wars the blue skies will turn red when the Dreadnuts descend and the Scourge finish what they started at Area 51. I know it’s difficult to understand…”
“No, I do,” said Vyleria, rubbing her temples. “It’s just that…”
“Vyleria, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, the old bitterness returning to her voice. “Just a little tired, that’s all. It’s been a long day.”
“It’s been a long few months.”
“Jorge,” said Jack spinning round. “I thought I told you to wait on the ship.”
“Yeah well I thought I’d come and see the famous White House for myself. I’ve read so much about it. Your histories are fantastic. So intricate, so delicate.”
“He wants to give them some of our technology,” said Vyleria.
“Vyleria, I thought we…”
“No, it’s fine,” said Jorge, his hand brushing her cheek. His voice was as cold as ice. “Give it to them. If anything goes wrong it will be on Jack’s shoulders, not ours.”
“But you said…”
“It doesn’t matter now. He’s already made his decision, haven’t you Jack?”
“Yes.”
“Thought so. If it was up to me…”
“Well it isn’t,” said Jack. “Since you’re not officially a crew member you can’t vote.”
“That shouldn’t matter.”
“Does to me. Besides, Grunt, Kat and Padget all back me.”
“You’ve spoken to them?” asked Vyleria.
“Before they departed, yes. If you don’t believe me ask them. You can still contact them.”
“No, it’s okay, I…” Again, Jorge’s hand brushed her cheek. Jack wanted to scream, to vomit.
Jack Strong: Dark Matter Page 5