“You know, Stuie, you talk awful brave for someone who just had his lunch handed to him. You sure that's wise?”
“Until later, son. There'll most definitely be a next time. We'll see who's laughing then.”
“Oooo. I'm scared. The big, mean president said bad words to me.”
FIFTEEN
“I can't believe you pulled that off, General Ryan.” Mary Kahl was positively beaming. “I've listened to the recording of your conversation with Marshall a dozen times, and each time, I can't help laughing. The man was fit to be tied!”
“Well,” I said soberly, “if he wasn't a permanent enemy before, he is now. Diminished as he is, he's still three things: insane, power hungry, and merciless. Until he gets in his worldship and sails into the dark sky of space, I don't think we can rest easy.” I shook my head. “It's personal with me. I made it that way, but it was a dangerous ploy.”
“What do you mean, ploy?” Toño asked.
“I want to have Marshall focus on me so he pays less attention to the UN efforts.” I looked sideways at Mary. “Speaking of which…”
“I know, Jon. Your concerns are valid, and I promise we'll begin transporting people to the worldships soon—very soon.”
“We have ten years before Jupiter strikes, but it's going to take a monumental effort to get billions of men, women, and children off this rock.”
“Plus,” Toño added, “it will be helpful to have people living in the craft for a long period before they depart. There are sure to be malfunctions and overlooked necessities we will discover.”
“True, gentlemen.” Kahl checked the screen of her handheld. “As of now, four hundred worldships are ready or nearly ready for habitation. I'll see to it personally their permanent residents are sent up within two months.”
“I think it'd be best to send people from the less-developed world first.” Toño nodded as he spoke. “They'll be the most difficult to evacuate and acclimatize to the ships. Plus, their lifestyles will be markedly improved that much sooner.”
“According to you,” I said with a snort.
“I've already discussed the matter with India and several African nations,” Mary reassured us. “There should be no problems.”
“And will you call Marshall?” My voice had an edge to it I didn't like.
“Of course,” Mary said. “I'm a diplomat. That's what we do.”
“Do you hold out any hope for success?” I asked skeptically.
She shrugged. “No, which will make the negotiation that much easier. If I expect nothing, any positives will be a boon.”
“I just wish,” I said for the thousandth time, “we could force a free election in the US. Any other person in that office would actually look out for his or her people.”
Mary furrowed her brow. “Do you recall the brief yet colorful reign of President Trump from your history books, Jon?”
I tilted my head. “Point taken.” I shuttered visibly. “Man, I'm glad they didn't have android downloads when that guy was around!” Toño silently crossed himself.
“Well, if that's all, I suggest we adjourn.” Mary stood as she spoke.
“Toño,” I hailed him, “I believe you and I need to talk. You owe me an explanation, if I recall your promise correctly.”
With a resigned look in his eyes, he replied, “Yes, I do. Let's go to my private office.”
After we were seated, I began the conversation. “So, you knew about Marshall's decision to start the war minutes after he made it. You've known other things you shouldn't have, even with all your access to their computers. What gives?”
“Jon, I'm going to tell you something only two other people on Earth know. You must pledge never to mention it outside of the safety of this room. Not even to Sapale.”
“Done.”
“I have a man in Marshall's inner circle.” He twisted his face slightly. “Well, not so much a man as an android.”
“Doc! You're shitting me? No way that paranoid bastard would allow a mole, let alone a robotic one, anywhere near him.” By way of response, Toño gave me a palms-up shrug. “Who?”
“De La Frontera, of course.”
“No way! He's the most likely spy. How could he pull it off? They'd watch him more closely than a drunken sailor does a stripper.”
“Always the colorful analogies! The fact remains. First, we created their absolute need for him. No one else can run their android production. As he works closely with me, there's no chance of anyone matching his contribution.”
“Again, he'd be under the tightest surveillance possible. How could he possibly communicate with you?”
“Give me some credit, my old friend.” He tapped the side of his head. “We're both androids. We're linked like you and your AI.”
“No. They'd detect any signal. I know they're watching for that twenty-four seven.”
“Our link is highly encrypted and on a frequency no one uses anymore. They're never going to hear it because they never listen in the shortwave.”
I laughed loudly. “You two are ham radio operators?”
He smiled. “Ingeniously simple, no?”
“But, wait. You told me Marshall held his family hostage. I've never met Carlos, but I can't believe he'd actually place them at risk no matter what the stakes were.”
“His family is perfectly safe. They live in a small house on the Morón Air Base, just outside of Seville in Spain. Marshall holds five androids powered by AIs hostage. If he were to execute them, no sentient would be harmed.”
“That's darn close to brilliant, Doc.”
“I thought so too. We even gave Carlos rudimentary bowel and urinary function to cast no undue suspicion his way.”
“What, you think they're going to check his poop to make sure he's human?”
“They have checked it, several times, looking for intelligence passed…err…rectally.”
“We're kind of into TMI range here.” I raised a finger to object. “There's no way we can lose a war with an opponent who checks people's poop for clues. No way.” I waved my hands in a cross-pattern in front of my chest.
“Marshall and his people are deeply suspicious of Carlos. But, lacking proof and needing his help means he remains safe, for now.”
“Where's the original Carlos?”
“With his family, of course.”
“So, as long as no one IDs him in seclusion…”
“His android serves us immeasurably.” Toño bit at his lower lip. “Can you keep this information from Al?”
Hmm. “I don't know. That's never come-up before. I guess I could encrypt it and order him to never break the code.”
He rolled his head back and forth. “Should work. Make it so. I'd like to share with someone Carlos's other accomplishments, in case both he and I are compromised.”
“You just told me about them.”
“No, I mean the fact that he's placed back doors and overrides into all Marshall's androids. If it ever came to it, we could disable them all.”
“Talk about a trump-card up your sleeve, Doc.”
“Yes,” he grinned, “we're rather proud of that little trick. Eventually one of their AIs will figure out we have, but until such time, it's a powerful tool to possess.”
“Why not switch the entire unholy lot of them off right now and be done with them?”
“Carlos and I have discussed it. But, the devil we know is easier to combat than the one we don't know.”
“If you ever decide to end Marshall, please let me throw the switch. Okay?”
“No problem. That honor will be reserved for you alone.”
I said goodbye and headed back to the ship. I needed to ask Sapale about this twin thing, since the crisis was over.
“I decided it was time,” she explained, batting her four cute eyes in sync.
“Time for twins? Are we in some type of hurry here?”
There was that throaty growl of hers again. It was soft and low, but I was struck by the fact that I had
n't heard it since the time we first discussed being brood-mates. Maybe the hurry crack was unnecessary? “There a problem here, cowboy?”
She'd said that rather acidly, hadn't she? “What?” I rallied in defense, “No problem at all, breed's-mate.”
“Brood's-mate. The term is brood's, not breed's.”
That growl was definitely getting louder. Maybe a little higher in pitch too. Perhaps it would be best if I did the guy thing and started lying my ass off. That's what I said! Would you like me to play it back for you, because I have it recorded? No. It would never work. Al would play back the actual recording and then giggle like a preteen girl. I knew he was listening in and would jump at the chance, the sorry bucket of bolts.
“Sapale, brood's-mate Sapale, I could not be happier to have two little blessings running around our humble home. What were you thinking,” I—very gently and slowly—reached over and patted the side of her head, “you crazy alien gal? You always misunderstand me at the silliest of times.”
“Actually, I seem to understand you at the most serious of times. Real pattern developing here, don't you think?” Hey, the Kaljaxians tapped their foot when impatient or angry, just like humans. Fascinating!
“Well, you think what you’d like. Me, I'm beside myself in joyous anticipation.” To illustrate my feeling, I stepped to where I would have been, had I actually been standing beside myself when I said it. I even pointed to where I had been. Yeah, she thought it was that lame too. “So, when are my children expected?” I rubbed my hands together eagerly. “How soon will you make my life whole and complete?”
At least the growl faded away slowly. “I've got my eye on you, scout. Al,” she shouted, “remind me to keep an eye on this one, okay?”
“You and me both.” I hated that machine. No loyalty. Not one shred.
“I'll bear our children in seven months. That's how long you have to convince me I don't need to fly this ship back to Kaljax because you're such a butthead.”
Her grasp of English slang was really getting impressive. Probably best, however, not to compliment her on it just then.
“You know,” I said by way of extrication, “I've been curious as to what those worldships look like on the inside. Haven't you? I think we should buzz over and check one out. Who knows? We may prefer living in one rather than in this tub.” I waggled my elbows. “More room, you know?”
She shook her head in resignation. After coming over and planting a big kiss on my lips, she agreed. “I've been curious too. Let's go house hunting, brood-mate.”
I'm so glad we made that trip. Spectacular didn't even begin to describe those marvels. Early on, the general plan was to hollow-out a one-kilometer diameter sphere in a two-kilometer diameter asteroid. That would provide a living volume equal to a large dirigible hanger, or three Nimitz-class nuclear-powered supercarriers, end-to-end. By cramming everybody and everything in with Vaseline, the worldship might carry one hundred thousand souls.
Since the advent of membrane technology, those initial designs were puny. A ten-kilometer asteroid could have a four-kilometer diameter spherical core. That provided immense protection and room for future generations to expand into, if so desired. Lake Tahoe could fit comfortably into one of those worldships, as could ten thousand dirigible hangars. Perhaps as many as a million people could live in one, with ample room left over for crops, environmental management, and recreational areas. Whodathunk it? Waterskiing in outer space!
The giant worldship we visited was partially rigged. Multiple apartment buildings grew at varying angles, based on the ship's curvature. Water storage chambers were on the periphery, with living space occupying the more central areas. In the center, where there would be little artificial gravity, were the power plants and waste facilities. They were massive. Under construction were hospitals, universities, parks, you name it. The worldships had it all. Unless someone pried the controls of Ark 1 out of my dead hands, we could flit from one to the other during the migration. It might be like one constant vacation. Yeah, like that could happen in any enterprise involving humans.
The encouraging thing was that it looked like enough worldships would be completed before the axe fell on planet Earth. Then all we had to do was not be killed by Listhelons or ourselves and find a place to settle down. Easy-peasy, right?
SIXTEEN
“The next person,” Stuart Marshall bellowed, “who answers me with 'we don't know' will be walked outside and shot. I'm really serious. I need to know what the fuck happened to us back at Cheyenne Mountain. The best explanation anyone of you has come up with is that what Ryan did was impossible. I will say this once: I need that technology, and I need it now!”
Even a trusted aide like Matt Duncan risked his life by speaking. But someone had to. “Mr. President, we all understand your frustration. We'd all lay down our lives for you and gladly. But it does appear that Ryan used weapons that cannot be understood. Even the wildest theoretical physicists we consulted have no idea how such action could be accomplished. There's no technology on Earth even hypothetically close to what's required to do what he did.”
“I think,” said Frontera in a cool, paced voice, “the explanation is obvious.”
Marshall's eyes shot to Frontera with predatory quickness and intent. “Oh you do, you little shit? You going to finish that thought, or will you allow me the pleasure of pounding it out of your skull?”
“Mr. Pres…” Duncan tried to interject.
Carlos cut the young man off. “I'd rather you not, if it's all the same to you.” Carlos allowed sufficient time to slip by to alert Marshall to the fact that he'd paused in defiance. “Ryan went to several alien worlds that possessed advanced societies. One of them must have supplied him with the mystery technology.” He raised his palms. “What other origin for it is possible?”
That had occurred to Marshall. But that would mean that duplicating the process, given humanity's current state of knowledge, would be impossible. The only way to obtain it was by force or by gift. The force part had failed miserably. That attempt pretty much made receiving it as a gift unlikely. Who would give their sworn enemy, one who just tried to nuke them, the power to defend themselves against anything? He sure as hell wouldn't were the roles reversed. That brought Marshall back to a theme he'd revisited far too often. Ryan. He used the USA's ship and support and returned with a great prize. It was rightfully Marshall's in the first place, not the UN's. To be surrounded by traitors and fools was a curse the president never felt he'd earned.
Phillip Szeto shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew he'd be called on next. If Marshall couldn't receive the alien tech as a gift, his next—and last—option would be to steal it. Hence, it would be the CIA's job. Of course, everyone on both sides knew that. So, unless the UN and its allies were completely incompetent, it would be impossible to rob them of their treasure. A fail-fail scenario for Szeto, yet again.
“Well, Phil,” asked Marshall, “I guess that means you're our only hope of remaining a free and powerful America.”
“Ever since that day, Mr. President,” he replied weakly, “I've made it mission one for the CIA to obtain that technology. All of my resources are directed at that target alone. If it can be done, we will do it.”
“Which,” Marshall menaced, “leaves open the possibility that it cannot be done. You know that bird's never going to fly. I must be able to defend my people. If we are to survive as a nation, I must have that new toy. Anything else is unacceptable. If you can't do the job, I'll find someone who can.” He pointed at Frontera. “Maybe him. He's the only one in my presence with a functioning brain.”
Carlos rolled his eyes.
“All my resources are…”
Marshall held up a hang-on-a-minute hand. “I know. Working around the clock like good little monkeys. Just bring me results. If you're unable to make me smile by the time we meet for next week's cabinet meeting…well, I bet you can finish that sentence for me, can't you, Phillip?”
Shoulder
s slumped and eyes to the floor, he replied, “Yes, Mr. President, I can.”
“Okay, everyone out except those involved in the space program.” Most men and women shuffled quickly and quietly out. Those who remained filled in the empty seats so they could reluctantly be closer to the boss. Marshall continued, “So, what's the latest on the worldships?”
Kendell Jackson stiffened his back. “We're doing well, sir. Your target of two hundred and fifty ships will be accomplished, no question. The final craft will be ready to sail in less than six years.”
Marshall mumbled to himself, “2146?” To Kendell, he said, “Good work, Jackson. Finally, someone responsible enough to do their job.”
Kendell cleared his throat, checked his resolve, and spoke. “Sir, I was wondering what your orders were in regard to additional worldship production.”
Marshall twisted his brow. “How so, son?”
“Well, I mean, we will easily make your quota, but after that, shouldn't we continue to produce additional worldships? We cannot know how many people the UN can accommodate and…” He decided it was healthiest to stop speaking.
“What the devil for? I told you I needed two hundred and fifty. If I wanted two hundred and fifty-one, I'd have said so, wouldn't I? Have you ever known me to be timid in expressing my desires, son?”
“No, sir, of course not. It's just…”
“It's just above your paygrade. Drop it, General Jackson, if you know what's good for you and your family. You're all coming with us, so don't lose sleep in that regard. Beyond that, leave the strategic decisions to me, okay?”
“Of course, sir.” This psychopath is going to let anyone who doesn't lick his butt die. He could not care less. He has abandoned, as a matter of personal whim, his duties to those he's sworn to serve. I can no longer serve such a man in good conscience. But how can I escape? He'd never allow that. I must find my own way to safety.
The Forever Enemy (The Forever Series Book 2) Page 7