The Fate of Humanity

by Alex Pennington



  The Fate

  of Humanity

  Copyright 2013 Alex Pennington

  The day was dark and cold. The wind blew menacingly around the Research and Discovery Corps HQ just outside the nation’s capital. Captain Terry McMillan entered the towering structure for what would soon become the mission of his life. The concept they were preparing to experiment with was unprecedented, and never before attempted. He and Second Lieutenant John Carter would be entering the RADC Timejumper. The Timejumper was supposedly capable of sending the duo into the future, possibly hundreds of years so, to attempt to recover advanced technology for the United States.

  The second doorway slid open as the one behind him closed. He was nervous, despite his years of training for high-stress situations, this one still had him on edge. He was putting his training, his safety, his life… in the hands of a machine. He walked through the dull concrete hallway and entered an elevator. The Timejumper was located nearly twenty stories above the ground, a well thought out notion. It was predicted that there could be substantial change in the landforms within one hundred years, and as such, they did not want the machine to be stuck deep underground. Instead, they planned to allow it to drop from above, or if they were lucky, still be in the tower.

  He shifted uncomfortably in the elevator, but at last arrived at the top story. He walked into the metal-coated area, seeing men in white lab coats all around, as well as Major Quinton, the military officer in charge of the operation.

  “Sir,” McMillan said, snapping a crisp salute for his superior officer.

  “At ease soldier. Hope you enjoyed your time with the family. I'm sure you'll see them again. We’ve got five minutes ‘till deployment. Carter’s already suited up. Meet him there and be in the TJ Chamber ASAP,” the Major replied.

  “Yes sir.”

  McMillan made haste over to the weapon locker on the far side of the room. A variety of weapons adorned the wall that he now faced. To his left he saw a great glass window, observing a lowered chamber. His mind replayed the hours beforehand, visions of his family rapidly flashing by. He shook his head and once more attempted to focus.

  He grabbed a combat helmet with a clear face shield from the shelf. Then he slipped on a well-fitted Kevlar vest for protection, though he was unsure how useful it would be in a hundred years. He collected the remaining arms that had been selected for the mission, hoping his superiors' selection of gear would be adequate.

  Releasing a long sigh, he walked to the glass wall, and opened the double doors that led to an open stairwell. The stairs were made of a sturdy metal, acting as his last moment of reality before he zoomed to the future. The grand machine that stood before him had been designed to look plain, as opposed to glorious. A simple steel tube, only slightly larger than a telephone booth, would soon act as his means of time travel. At the doorway he could see Carter waiting, leaned slightly against the machine.

  “’Bout time sir, I almost thought I’d be goin’ alone,” the lieutenant said jokingly.

  McMillan smiled, but his nerves had gotten the better of him, he was not in the mood for jokes.

  “McMillan! Carter! The time has come,” an excited voice said over the intercom.

  Looking up to the glass observation chamber, McMillan could see a scientist with ruffled hair and an unshaven beard holding the mic. McMillan slapped the single exterior button on the Timejumper, causing the doorway to slide open. The two soldiers stepped into the machine, preparing for the experience of their lifetime… or the end of said life. Carter seemed happy, more excited than nervous about the mission.

  “I wonder if we’ve met aliens yet. Maybe crushed an alien empire… or made their acquaintance?” Carter pondered aloud.

  McMillan silently stood, taking in the thoughts but having no reply.

  “TJ-1, all controls have been transferred to your module. You may jump at your convenience… and may the force be with you,” the lead scientist said lightheartedly.

  McMillan did not understand how everyone was so laid back for such a climactic moment. This could be the single greatest innovation humanity had brought forth, though as he thought that, he realized potential for a paradox. If he was going to the future… had he not gone to the future before? Would he have made this trip in the world he was about to enter? Had he even existed here?

  Snapping him from his thoughts, Carter slammed down the safety switch, then punched the large button that activated the machine. The world around him began spinning, then rapidly getting darker. He felt dizzy, unable to think anymore. Only a few more seconds of the mysterious feeling passed before he found everything was solid black.

  He awoke with a start only a few seconds later, then felt a terrible falling sensation, as if he were plummeting to the Earth rapidly. He felt a mighty thud and all his weight stop moving instantly, causing his knees to bend painfully forward.

  “Woo! Now that’s the kind of ride they need at Disneyland!” Carter shouted, obviously having enjoyed what McMillan thought was a terrible sensation.

  “Alright Carter, fun time’s over. We have a mission. Let’s get it done.”

  “Whatever ya say, boss,” Carter said, hitting the button to release the hatch.

  As the hatch opened, McMillan could see what appeared to be a darkened wasteland. Crumbled concrete littered the ground around them and scorched earth stood below that.

  “What the…” Carter mumbled as he stepped out onto the blackened ground.

  McMillan followed suit, stepping forth into the new world. Suddenly, a loud woosh passed by overhead, causing both men to glance upward quickly. Twin aircraft of some sort had flown overhead, leaving streams of glowing blue energy in their wake. Above them appeared to be some sort of massive ship, simply levitating hundreds of feet above the surface. Shockingly, it began to produce a tremendous beam of concentrated light, burning across the planet below.

  “Hehe, so this is humanity in a hundred years, eh?” Carter said, seemingly back to normal after the initial realization.

  McMillan glared at him.

  “This isn’t just humanity in one hundred years Carter… This is us.”

  “Not if we bring back some of these… lasers. Imagine us having this sort of power!” Carter exclaimed.

  McMillan pondered it a moment. How could they know it wasn’t them destroying the planet right now? It was impossible to know if their mission… at this moment… is the mission that brought that devastation onto the Earth.

  “Carter, maybe this isn’t a good idea… the whole thing. Maybe if we go back now, we can keep the world how it is… a better place even.”

  “Sir… I dunno how to put this, but are you questioning our orders? I’m pretty sure we have to be here, and I’m pretty sure that Command would be very disappointed to see us survive the hard part only to turn around once we got here, you know?” Carter said, a slight irritation in his voice.

  McMillan thought about his words. Perhaps Carter was right. The time jump had been untested in its fullest form. It had even been considered that they jump a few minutes or hours instead of hundreds of years, but fear of a paradox had driven such tests away. McMillan was starting to doubt that that was the only paradoxical outcome to the quest, however.

  “No... It’s just… Alright. Let’s go,” McMillan said, giving in to Carter’s point, if only for the time being.

  The two began moving away from the safety net of the time machine toward what appeared to be some sort of military outpost. Gunfire shot out from it across a field, though what was being shot was unclear. As they began to close, they saw a tattered American flag flying above the several tents and sandbags that made up the sma
ll outpost.

  McMillan approached with his hands raised, gun slung idly in front of him. Carter followed his lead, also lifting his arms. A soldier adorned in some sort of advanced metal armor stepped out from a tent and approached them. He was carrying some sort of gun, and given his demeanor, he did not seem afraid to use it.

  “Stop! Right there is far enough,” the armored soldier said, himself stopping at the sandbag wall. “You civilians?” he asked.

  “No. I’m Captain Terry McMillan. United States Army, RADC.”

  The soldier stared at him for a moment before looking back at the others, who were still firing rounds at an unknown enemy. It was only then that McMillan realized that the approaching enemy was not human at all. They were fairly tall and heavily armored. In their hands, which seemed only to have three fingers, was some sort of bulbous rifle. Occasional blobs of green, plasma-like energy burst forth from them into the human’s line.

  “United States Army eh? Don’t much look the part. Those combat uniforms look like relics,” the soldier replied, looking up and down the two men.

  “We’re… from the past. We’re on a special mission by the RADC to attempt to recover advanced technology to put America ahead of the rest of the world. The project was developed in response to China’s recent appearance on the world stage as a Superpower.”

  The soldier was silent for a while, as if he was pondering the thought. Telling him outright was a long shot, but McMillan had not seen another option.

  “If America wasn’t the only world power now, maybe we wouldn’t be losin’ this war so bad. Heck, maybe we wouldn’t even be in it. This whole thing got started after America began waving our RPC in the galaxy's face. Then the aliens decided they wanted it, and next thing we know they’re planetside… and above it to, blowing up anything in their path.”

  “RPC?” Carter questioned. “What is that?”

  “Reactive Power Core,” he said, a blob of plasma flying behind him as he ducked slightly. “Extremely efficient. It powers our armor here, as well a load of other stuff. I’m really not sure I’m buying your flash from the past stuff, but it’s not my call to make. Follow me. The L.T.’ll want to see you,” he said, heading back toward one of the tents.

  McMillan and Carter stepped over the sandbags and followed the soldier into the tent. It was dark inside, just as it was dark in the night sky outside. The only source of light was a single lamp on the central table, where a man in power armor sat. His helmet was not on his head like the others though, as it sat on the desk near the lamp.

  “Sir!” the soldier called, snapping a salute. “These two men have quite the story to tell, and I believe you’d like to hear it.”

  “Very well, Corporal. Keep those alien mongrels back,” the lieutenant ordered.

  The soldier spun neatly on his heels before exiting the tent.

  “Who are you?” the man asked gruffly.

  “McMillan sir. Captain Terry McMillan, United States Army, RADC. We are here to recover advanced technology and return it to the past.”

  The lieutenant had light brown hair, with a thin, almost unnoticeable field of stubble on his chin. He looked stressed and tired, and this new and shocking declaration did not seem to make his day any better.

  “You what?” he finally said, his mouth remaining partly open, as if still taking in the shock.

  “We created a time-travel device called the Timejumper. It was designed to get us here and return advancements to protect America,” McMillan said, getting tired of having to repeat himself.

  “Alright boys, if you want some tech to bring home… we need to confirm your ID’s. We’re in a war, and it isn’t lookin’ good. You could take an RPC home with you… preserve its legacy and accomplish your mission. Go to DC. It’s not far. We have a sizable holdout there. The CIA Director is there, he can check you out and confirm that you’re who you say you are. He mentioned we might have some unorthodox visitors today... His description lacked detail though. But if he meant you, I think we may have a mutually beneficial deal. We’re short on men here, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I’m sending Corporal Hastings with you, to make sure you stay on track,” the lieutenant warned.

  “Thank you,” McMillan said.

  To his surprise, the lieutenant stood up, and extended his hand.

  “Good luck soldiers. May God be with you.”

  McMillan accepted the handshake, then turned and left the tent. The strange aliens seemed to be gaining ground on the American soldiers desperately fending them off. Corporal Hastings approached them in the same way as the first soldier had. He must have received the order through a built-in radio in his helmet.

  “I hear I’m back with you guys,” he said, confirming that he was in fact the same soldier from before.

  “Yeah, we’re goin’ to DC. We have to talk to the—” Carter started before being cut off.

  “I know, CIA Director. Big privilege for some civvies dressed up like ancient soldiers,” he said, chuckling.

  “We’re not—” Carter again started.

  “I was joking… mostly. Let’s go.”

  The corporal reminded McMillan of Carter, seemingly unfazed by the horrendous situations that war laid out before him. He almost admired it… the ability to keep calm and casual, but at the same time he saw it as a weakness, something that could one day cost any of them their lives.

  The now three-man team exited the small base and began moving quickly across the barren wastes toward the towering white buildings of DC. Above them the strange alien ship continued to bombard the surface with its terrible beams.

  “What are you fightin’ for Corporal?” McMillan asked, hoping in a world so horribly scarred he wouldn’t answer with something petty such as money.

  “Fightin’ for my family. To keep them safe, and to save America. We’re not in great shape right now, and we need every able bodied man to help protect human interests. My family is safe, they’re in one of the underground facilities in the Midwest. But at the same time… I know other people’s families are still out here, needin’ saved.”

  Surprised by the deep answer, McMillan simply nodded. The words reminded him of his final hours with his own family. He felt proud for a moment… to know at least some Americans still held true values in this day and age. But his moment of reflection was interrupted by a ear-splitting explosion and the sound of flying earth. He stumbled to a stop and looked behind them at the base. A terrible green flame rose up from its remains, with smoke billowing from it as well. The Corporal stared at it, perfectly still, then could be heard speaking.

  “Sir!? L.T.! Status report! Anyone?”

  He stood there, waiting for something, then removed his helmet, still holding it in one hand. He wiped his brow with his free hand. His fingers began to let the helmet slip from his hand when something faint came from it. The soldier rapidly slung it back onto his head.

  “Sir! Are you okay?” Corporal Hastings asked frantically.

  He waited, seemingly listening to a reply. He appeared to be losing his cool, finally letting the stress get to him.

  “SIR! Siiiiiiiiiiir!” he said, dragging out the word with such emotion, McMillan already knew what had happened. “Gah! They’ve been overrun. Aliens nailed 'em from above, then moved in for the kill,” he said with rage, throwing his helmet to the hard earth below.

  McMillan approached him and set a hand on his armored shoulder.

  “I had friends there! Close friends!” Hastings yelled.

  McMillan had lost friends before; in fact, he’d say it was such loss that caused him to lose his eagerness for war. Loss matures people, and he’d suffered a lot of it.

  “Hold it together soldier. I know how you feel, I know it’s hard. But there is nothing you can do, nor anything you could have done. Now let’s keep moving,” McMillan said harshly.

  He could see Hastings face now that his helm
et was off. He was young, probably no more than twenty-five. He had shortly-cropped hair and blue eyes. He took his helmet and placed it slowly back over his head.

  “Captain right?” he said, in reference to McMillan’s rank.

  “Yes. I am a United States Army Captain, are you ready to see me that way soldier?”

  “Yes sir. I’ll get you to DC.”

  “That’s the spirit Hastings.”

  Carter stood by idly watching as Hastings composed himself.

  The three continued, facing no resistance until they reached the edge of the city, where they encountered their worst nightmare… an entire enemy platoon marching into the city.

  “There’s no way the three of us can take them on. There has to be at least thirty of them,” Carter stated plainly.

  “I agree. Can we go around?” McMillan asked Hastings.

  “We could, but most entrances to the city have been clogged up with rubble… and we may not have much time.”

  “Wait… why is our time short?” Carter questioned.

  “If DC is deemed compromised, the President made it clear he would nuke the place. Our outpost was the second to last line of defense before that fail-safe will be initiated.”

  McMillan stared at the soldier with a blank face, completely unable to comprehend how fast everything had hit the fan. At last he spoke.

  “Where’s the last line?”

  “The Capital Mall. Most of our forces are in the Congress building, including the Director. They might be well armed, but we don’t have enough to hold out against repeated forces like that!” he said, pointing again at the large force of aliens continuing down the road into the city.

  “Then what do you propose we do?” McMillan asked, feeling the stress of his predicament.

  “I can distract them. I won’t last long, but long enough to get them away from that road. You will have to run fast though,” Hastings said.

  “I can’t just send you to your death! You’re a good soldier, you deserve better,” McMillan pleaded.

  “You don’t understand sir. The L.T. may have seemed skeptical… or distant. But he honestly believes you are humanity's best hope to survive. If you bring this to us in the past… develop it years ahead of its time…We can be better prepared to fight them.”

  McMillan was shocked by how much trust these men were putting into him.

  “Boss, he’s right. We have to do this,” Carter said.

  “Fine. Hastings… you’re a good man. You’ll be remembered. Move out.”

  “Affirmative sir,” Hastings said with a tone of hopelessness as he embraced the end.

  He moved quickly along the hillside, staying out of sight while McMillan and Carter moved around the opposite direction. McMillan and Carter reached their destination first, waiting for Hastings’ signal. Then it came: several bursts from his rifle into the ranks of the enemy. With that, the two moved up over the hill and charged toward the entrance to the city. Nearly the entire pack of aliens was moving in on Hastings’ position, firing their globs of plasma and melting the hillside around him.

  As they arrived at the street, they confirmed two enemies had held position, awaiting the others' return. With a few hand signals, the two humans were ready. They each lunged forward, grabbed the massive beasts by their backs and plunged their kabars into their necks. McMillan’s target gurgled before simply toppling over, though Carter’s shook violently, slinging him off. The creature turned around and raised its fists just as McMillan raised his gun. He was prepared to sacrifice their stealth to save Carter’s life. Just as he began to squeeze the trigger the monster fell backwards, collapsing from massive blood loss. Exhaling with relief, McMillan lowered the gun.

  “You good?” he asked quietly, reaching out his hand to help him up.

  “Too freakin’ close man. Too freakin’ close,” Carter said, taking the hand and pulling himself up.

  Before continuing, McMillan looked back out into the field surrounding the town. He still saw muzzle flashes from Hastings’ position. He was an incredible soldier.

  “Let’s go,” McMillan said as he turned around.

  As the two proceeded down the road, they missed, if only by moments, the brilliant flash of the grenade that Hastings used to kill himself and the multiple aliens that had closed upon him.

  It was a solid forty minutes before they arrived at the Capital Mall. To their dismay, the place was crawling with aliens from other parts of the city. Hastings was right… time was short. They barreled across the mall, staying tight to the side as to avoid detection, though as they reached the great stairs of the capitol building, the time for combat had come. Running up the stairs in nothing more than Kevlar armor, plasma rounds flew around them. Each missed, however narrowly, destroying parts of the stairway as they ascended. McMillan could feel the horrible heat of each blast pass by. They grew ever closer to the top, so close to their destination. At last they broke up over the last stair and McMillan dove forward, ending in a roll.

  Breaking from the roll he launched himself forward and ran to the worn door. Beating on it rapidly, he tried to contact those inside.

  “Let us in! It's Captain Terry McMillan, Lieutenant…” his sentence trailed as he realized he did not even know the name of the lieutenant that had ordered him here. “Agh, uh, I have orders to speak to the CIA Director,” he finished.

  The door opened carefully and an armor-clad soldier hurried the two in.

  “You’ve been expected. Lieutenant Davidson contacted us in advance. He’s dead now. You better be worth it.”

  McMillan moved in the direction that the soldier pointed, pondering his statement. It almost sounded like the soldier blamed him for the death of the lieutenant. He shook the thought from his mind and hurried down the damaged halls of the capitol building. Numerous soldiers stood around pointing him further in the right direction, ending with him and Carter in the basement of the building. At the end of a long tunnel, an advanced metal door opened, allowing entrance. Before them was a desk at which sat a man wearing dark glasses and a black suit. His hair was flat on top, and was also jet-black.

  “McMillan. Good, you’re here. I have a very important mission for you,” the man said. He held out his hand, within it sat a small, round device with a single red light in the center, as well as a flash drive. “This is an RPC and a drive containing its schematics. This is what you need. It was first put into development exactly a century ago. It took decades to perfect, but eventually we had at our disposal the ultimate power source.”

  “Wha… sir? One hundred years ago? That’s… That’s where we’re from.”

  “This has all happened before McMillan… and it will all happen again.”

  McMillan stared at the man, unsure of how to respond. He looked up, slightly above his head. Behind him was a photograph of two men clad in Kevlar armor. They looked familiar… too familiar. One held a rifle in one hand, while holding a small circular device in the other. The RPC. It was then that it clicked. The photograph was of them.

  Carter stepped forward, grabbing the RPC and the flash drive.

  “We’ll keep it safe, Director.”

  “Carter… maybe this isn’t right. Look at the world, is this what you want?” McMillan said, thinking back to his initial thoughts when they had arrived.

  “Sir, we have our orders, and this is humanity's greatest creation. It’s the only way we’ll ever win.”

  “Director, how did this war start? It was over the RPC, was it not?” McMillan demanded.

  “Why of course. We established the Icarus Stations in orbit above Earth, powered by these RPC’s. Their energy output was incredible and Earth’s people… correction… America’s people… had ultimate power. These stations were armed with nuclear warheads and energy production facilities capable of solidifying America’s dominance. We soon produced more than 80% of the world’s power, and had the threat of
nuclear destruction to anyone who felt ill will about it,” the Director said plainly.

  “What about the aliens? Why did they attack?”

  “Well, they detected the power output of the Icarus stations, which first drew them to Earth, then upon its discovery, demanded possession of the technology. We offered other things, but refused to give up our greatest power. It wasn’t long before they decided they would fight for it. But do not be concerned Captain. We will win this war.”

  Carter spun the RPC around in his hand before sliding it into his Kevlar pocket.

  “We’re keeping it. Let’s go,” he said.

  “No! Put humanity first! Sure we’ll be famous if we succeed, but this isn’t what we want for humanity!”

  “If we succeed? Sir, the correct term is when we succeed. Its fate.”

  “Carter, put the RPC back. That’s an order.”

  “Sir, my orders come from higher up,” Carter said, glancing over to the Director.

  The Director nodded ominously. McMillan took it as a sign that he had Carter’s back. If he tried anything drastic here, it’d be McMillan on the losing end.

  “Okay. We’ll take it,” McMillan said with gritted teeth.

  “Excellent. I’m glad you came around. Now go… your destiny awaits,” the Director said.

  McMillan and Carter left the room, making their way back up the stairs. As they reached ground level, there was a massive crash followed by multiple gunshots. A quick look toward the entrance showed that the aliens were pushing forward. Time was up. The nuclear warhead would be en route to the city within the hour, and take only minutes to arrive. He could try to keep the team slow… maybe be too late to the machine… to give his life for humanity. He wanted to live though, he wanted to see his family again; he had a plan that would do both, so long as he could pull through.

  In full sprint the duo exited the building through a back entrance and tore across the remains of DC. Rubble stood before them at nearly every turn, occasionally faced with even worse threats such as the alien aggressors, though nothing could stop them. McMillan could see pure determination in Carter’s eyes. He obviously felt invincible... empowered by the photograph from the Director’s bunker. A smug grin cracked across his lips.

  Thirty minutes had passed as they frantically approached the Timejumper. At last, however, they came within sight of it. Both men were exhausted, running at their maximum speeds to reach the pod in time. Behind them, the mighty warship hovered, dragging its beam of destruction across the land below leaving a mark so clear it was as if a pen being moved across a paper. It approached them, but slowly, not specifically targeting them.

  McMillan had no doubt the nuke was nearing as well. Death was everywhere they looked, with their only hope growing ever closer. Step after step he approached, Carter only a single step ahead of him. When they reached it, Carter slapped his hand on the exterior button, opening the door. Before he could enter though, McMillan grabbed his shoulder, turned him around, and punched him in the face. He flinched, but remained in place by McMillan’s strong hand.

  “We’re leaving the RPC. Do you understand that soldier?”

  “No! We’re this close! Are you insane! You’ve lost it Terry!” he yelled making a swing of his own.

  McMillan answered with a dodge and another quick blow to the face. He then followed up with a knee to the stomach. Carter grunted as he fell backwards, away from McMillan. Carter cursed under his breath before drawing his pistol, which McMillan promptly disarmed him of.

  “It’s over Carter.”

  “History is written by the victor… and here I was thinking it'd be us,” Carter mumbled as he wiped the blood from his mouth.

  “We’re changing history Carter. For the better,” McMillan said, pointing his M9 at the head of one of his closest friends.

  He’d suffered loss, and Corporal Hastings had taught him when sacrifice had to be made for the greater good. Without another thought, he squeezed the pistol’s trigger, releasing a bullet into Carter’s skull. Carter fell backwards, seemingly in slow motion, as the bullet tore through his head.

  McMillan holstered the pistol and removed the body of his fallen comrade from the Timejumper. The gunship’s laser drew near, and McMillan saw a brilliant light in the sky plummeting toward the city.

  “You were right about one thing Carter… History is written by the victor.”

  Want more work by the same author?

  Check out The War Across the Stars!