The Forever Enemy (The Forever Series Book 2)

by Craig Robertson

  He paddled gently backward. His expression was sad. “None of the above.”

  “What? I can't just leave you here.” I indicated the tank. “You'll be killed.”

  “Jonryan. I'm a very old fish. My scales fall off, and my joints ache. I've outlived my spawn family. I've a different request, if you'll grant it.”

  “You name it. I'll make it happen.”

  “Release me into your ocean.”

  That I had not anticipated. “But…”

  “I'll die soon no matter which choice I make. We can't alter Gumnolar's will.”

  I was stunned. “If that's what you want, I'll take you personally whenever you're ready.”

  He looked at me a good, long while. “Thank you, Jon. I'll say my goodbyes to Toño, and then I would like to depart.”

  “No prob.” I stood there still stunned. Then I asked, “Why?”

  “I long to swim free. I've been confined here a long time. If I'd ask this of you before, your superiors would not have allowed it.” He trilled sadly. “They'd worry I'd use bubbles to somehow signal Listhelon.” Then a spark glowed in his eyes. “I want to find one of those white sharks.” He patted a fin on his chest. “Yeah, see how tough he really is. And I wish to touch a coral reef. They are so beautiful in the holos. I want to breathe those waters. Plus,” he fluttered his eyes, “I might dive down one of those deep trenches, see if I can find me one of those pretty girls.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, very old fish!”

  “I've been in here a long time.” We shared a good laugh.

  “Okay, but if I start getting complaints from the SPCA, I’ll bring you right back here.”

  I flew Offlin to the Great Barrier Reef that same day. I hovered just above the surface and opened the outer airlock doors. A kerplop later, and Offlin was swimming in his new home. He dove down deep, then returned to the surface. He waved me closer. “I told you long ago that someday I would kill you.” Oh, crap. I hoped I wouldn’t have to slice him up with my laser finger. He lofted a fin from the water and reached toward me. “Know, my good friend, that I no longer wish to do so.”

  We slapped palms, and he was gone.

  I never saw him again or heard one word of what he did. He was a good friend, and I'll miss him for a very long time.

  As I stood watching Jupiter envelop Earth, my thoughts were with Offlin. Hopefully he was deep in a trench and wouldn't notice anything until his surroundings vaporized. I prayed he felt no pain.

  There was scientific debate about exactly what would happen to Earth. The relative velocities of the two planets meant that Jupiter was not going to fully capture the smaller body. But how much of Earth would exist and in what form was unknown. Three days later, the question was answered. Jupiter spit out a very hot, rocky mess. Gone was the air, all of the water, and a sizable amount of the solid material. New Earth, which it was immediately dubbed, was one-third the mass of her former self. The irregular, rocky surface was partially covered by molten lava that once resided near her core. Remotes were sent down to confirm the obvious. No life, in any form, existed on Earth. Basically, she was a big, searing asteroid. All the beauty and splendor that was Earth was now nothing more than scattered molecules churning in Jupiter's atmosphere. What a waste. What a loss.

  But, as sad as those realizations were, I did have to reflect on the miracle we'd pulled off. Not only was the bulk of the human population safe, but a significant representation of the plant and animal life was too. In spite of ourselves, we'd done it. Over ten thousand worldships steamed off to who knows where. Each carried a contingent of livestock, such as chickens, pigs, and cows. Aquaculture for fish was available on each ship. Additionally, most had impressive zoological collections. These were not just to provide the family with a fun place to visit, they were engineered to preserve the species we cherished. No one could say if we'd ever successfully relocate any of them to the wild, but at least we saved many.

  The ocean worldship I mentioned to Offlin was impressive. It sole function was to sustain sea life on an indefinite basis. The asteroid was cored cylindrically, as opposed to spherically. That way, the artificial gravity would hold the water to the perimeter, while allowing the central space to hold air for the sea mammals. Apex predators, such as orcas and the bigger sharks, were segregated from more placid species to help both populations stabilize. Hopefully, it would work.

  There were a million horrible aspects to the destruction of Earth. It was a certifiable tragedy. However, there were a few things I was jazzed about. No more mosquitos! Fleas and ticks were a thing of the past. All animals brought onto worldships were screened for them. If any showed up, the infestation was dealt with immediately. The common housefly? No longer common. It was raised as food for other species, but it would never again land on my sandwich. And what about those pesky leeches? Gone, unlamented I should add. I personally wished they'd left hyenas behind because they're so damn ugly. No one, however, asked for my approval. They're somewhere on our flotilla, but if I never see one again, it will be A-Okay by me. They smell bad too. Revolting creatures.

  But in the final analysis, the disappearance of species with the passing of Earth was truly mind-boggling. All the insect life in the tropics, all the undiscovered animals at the bottom of the seas, and those creatures too fragile to survive in captivity were gone. Gone forever. Most of us felt the loss like a physical blow.

  Worldships were big, slow slugs. While the Arks could speed around near the speed of light, those puppies could only roll along like watermelons. Over time, it was conceivable that they might reach ten kilometers per second. While that sounds fast, remember the distances that they had to travel were enormous. It took me ten years to get to Barnard's Star, which was six light-years away. A worldship would make it there in something like one hundred fifty years. Yeah, that's why we also called them “generational ships.” To make it to a star system one hundred light-years away would take twenty-five hundred years. There were just five hundred sun-like stars within that distance. The pickings were few and far between. The fleet was in for a long trip.

  On the subject of worldships, I've always found the design and appointments interesting. There were large agencies in charge of those aspects. I mean, millions of souls were going to spend a long time on them. They needed to function, sure. Life support, wastewater recycling, and food production were obvious necessities. But, issues of how ornate to make them or what types of leisure activities to build in them were huge. How many recreational facilities were enough? Should there be lakes and trails, mountains and “wild” animals? How about stark industrial? Yeah, that would never work. People would survive, but they wouldn't really live. Ostensibly, the ships were to transport mass numbers of people to a new planet. But, it was just as likely that the worldship might end up being the final destination for its inhabitants. Perhaps the population would decide to remain put, as opposed to breaking in a new planet. If nothing else, the worldships were a safe place in a hostile universe.

  The plan was to try and keep the ships as close together as possible. That way, a person would have the option of visiting another worldship and maybe even moving to a new one. Also, resources could be shared as opposed to reinvented. Inevitably, however, some ships would decide to break off on their own. Some coalition might elect to head for a certain planet that some other group thought was unwise. As the numbers thinned out, the worldships had to remain sustainable. Those issues brought up the issue of governance. It was not fair or feasible to dictate the system of government for all autonomous crafts. But there was no precedence as to how to let a system of order evolve. The thought of a civil war on a worldship, based on a poorly structured leadership, was terrifying.

  There was also the issue of societal structure. Glad I wasn't in charge of that one. Most of the bad apples were left on Earth, but new bad ones would inevitably crop up and need to be dealt with. Also, ongoing education, materials production, and technological advancements needed to be s
ustained. How would labor be organized? There had to be some motivation to get out of bed and go to work. The guy in charge of cleaning the sewage plant would not be doing so for the simple joy of the work. He had to have a good reason to perform that critical job. Money could be used as the glue to keep things together, but what would be done with someone who refused to contribute at all? Tough issues. Glad I was a flyboy.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Six months into the human exodus, most worldships had arrived at the rendezvous point. Those that weren't quite there would be soon. Fortunately, up to that point, all the ships were functioning perfectly. A few redundant backup systems had failed here and there, but they'd all been quickly repaired. People settled in with minimum friction and, more importantly, whining. One thing I found mildly amusing was the early task of reassigning the hundreds of thousands of women who had been sent to what became known as the “harem ships.” Their families had to be located, and large numbers of people shuffled to and fro. What a mess. But, it was satisfying to disassemble the working of the insane US leadership. Everyone involved understood how horrible it would have been for those women if Jackson had not successfully taken out the overlords. Wow. Just wow. What a bunch of sickos. It's one thing to have juvenile fantasies, but it's another matter altogether to try and inflict them on the innocent. Won't be missing those guys.

  It was time for our first real decision as a fleet. Where were we to go? As I mentioned, there were a few outstanding candidate planets, along with a handful of pretty good options. Each worldship had elected a governor. He or she was more like the captain of the vessel, but in the interest of making it sound like the ships weren't run by the military, governor was the title chosen. Some form of elected council had been formed. The UN had decreed that a tripartite government be instituted, much like the USA or Great Britain used to have. Honestly, if a ship refused to go in that direction, there was nothing to force them to comply. Luckily, everyone was more worried about survival than ego.

  Secretary Kahl announced there would be a joint meeting of the governors to discuss our final course. Once recommendations were hammered out, they would be taken back to the assemblies for debate and a vote. Me, I was thinking it was good the ships were designed to keep generations comfortable, because that was about how long it figured to take for all those politicos to agree on one destination. I was reminded of the initial meeting to establish an armistice for the Korean War back in the 1950s. They spent the first few months discussing what the size and shape the negotiation table would be. Soldiers and civilians were dying while politicians discussed furniture dimensions. No one was going to be railroaded into a table that was too round. Or too straight. Or too, Heaven forbid, both. Yeah, the new home consensus might just take forever.

  Finding a space large enough to hold the meeting, physically, was a challenge. There were, in the end, 10,652 worldships. That meant 10,652 governors needed to attend. Add staff, reporters, onlookers, experts, and caterers made the group nearly twenty-thousand in number. That took a large amphitheater to accommodate. Not very amenable to discussion, but there was no alternative. Basically, there were a few dignitaries on stage, with questions or comments from the audience texted to a clearing hub. Most of the work would be done in smaller breakout sessions.

  Planet specialists for each of the planetary candidates gave a detailed presentation to the main assembly. That took several days. Next, small-group discussions took place to see where agreement might be reached and where differences could be hashed out. That took weeks. Finally, everyone got together to hear Kahl's summary of all the possible targets. Four planets were chosen as the most promising. The names were to be taken back to each assembly, where they would rank their options. The planet selected would be the planet with the most votes. It was a binding, winner-take-all arrangement. Like I said before, there was no way to force a ship to tag along against its population's will, but nothing more than minimum dissent was hoped for.

  Of the four planets to be voted on, one was BS 3, the one where I found Ffffuttoe. That made me proud. Validation was a good thing. One of the others, with the unsexy name Groombridge-1618 3, was almost too good to be true. The star was sixteen light-years away and a bit smaller than our sun. BG 3 was basically Earth maybe five hundred thousand years ago. No sentients discovered, perfect atmosphere, plentiful water, and mild seasons. The place teemed with life, and no species was deal-breaker awful. You know, T. rex, megalodon bad. The worldships could be there in maybe four hundred years. Not a hop, skip, and a jump, but doable. I figured that would be the winning choice, even over my find.

  The four options weren't close enough to allow us to head in the general direction of them all. So, the fleet basically held at the rendezvous point until the decision was made. Betting as to how long that would take ranged from weeks to years. I put some money on six months, but that might just have been wishful thinking. It was funny. I hated waiting for a decision that would delay our four-hundred-year voyage. Yeah, seriously, there was no hurry. Only us androids would be around to see the journey's end.

  Acknowledging that fact brought me to the next focal point in my life. What were Sapale, the kids, and I to do? Gulp. We had been staying on the main UN worldship up until then. I told Sapale I was feeling claustrophobic and asked if we could return home to Ark 1. She pointed out that I was insane for thinking our ship was less confining than the massive worldship, but she had no objection.

  After a few days back onboard, I broached the subject that weighed on me so heavily. “So, what do you want to do? Where do you want to settle down with the kids?”

  She eyed me suspiciously. “What options do you think there are?”

  I waved my hands in the air. “I don't know, lots of them.”

  She put a fist on her hip. “Name three.”

  “Well, we could live on a worldship.”

  “Obviously.”

  “We could live here,” I drew her attention to the floor.

  “Even more obvious. But can you name a third?”

  “Sure.” Not really. “We could, you know, go somewhere else.”

  “Like…?”

  “Another worldship,” I said with more conviction than I felt. She looked at me intently but didn't bother to answer. “Hey, you tell me. We can take Ark 1 anywhere we want.”

  “Aside from getting somewhere before those flying buckets do, why, exactly, would that matter?” There was a gleam in her eyes.

  “We could return to Kaljax.”

  Her expression collapsed. “They'd still execute me; the kids too, for that matter. Why would I go there?”

  “Maybe we can give them some bargaining chip, something that would make them leave you alone.”

  “What would you offer?”

  That was tough. They were fairly advanced. “You told me there was nothing like an AI on Kaljax. We could offer that technology.”

  She angled her head. “That might work, but not for certain. Remember, I'm a rebel. That's a hated person on my world.”

  “Look, to make you happy, I'd offer the membrane tech.” I really, really hoped it would never come to that.

  “You'd give those militaristic, power-hungry politicians that?” No. I probably wouldn't. Eventually, they might use it against humans. “No,” she answered for me, “I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe we can think of something. A trade arrangement, maybe.” She still looked unmoved. “Okay, let me turn this around. What would you like to do? What third thing can you dream up?”

  “Perhaps we should just stay here, raise the kids, and try and be happy.”

  “Wow, that sounds unconvincing and unappealing.”

  She looked away. “At least you'd be with your people. You'd have a chance to be happy.”

  I shook my head. “This is sounding worse and worse the more you talk. Okay, now at least I know living on a worldship is out.” I walked over and took her in my arms. “What shall we do, brood's-mate?” I could feel her begin to tremble. />
  We stood there a long time. Finally, she lifted her head off my shoulder and looked right into my eyes. “If you really want to know what I'd like to do, I'll tell you. But you have to promise not to laugh. Okay?”

  A woman bares her soul to her spouse, and he laughs. That would never end well on Earth, on Kaljax, or in the depths of hell. Tenderly, I asked, “What would you like to do? I won't even snicker.”

  She pulled free, gathering strength of commitment. “You and I know the vote will be to go to Groombridge-1618 3, right? The other choices are much riskier.”

  I nodded. “Agreed.”

  Her eyes flared with life. “Let's go there first and start a civilization of our own.”

  Huh? No, don't say huh. Death would ensue in less than five seconds. She was being passionate. Be understanding and supportive, even if she's lost it. “Could you share a little more of your vision with me?”

  Her eyelids narrowed. “Go there first and start our own civilization. That's it. That's my vision. Apparently it's not yours.”

  “Ah, it's not that it's not my vision, I'm just not seeing it.” Crap, crap, crap! Why not offer her my sidearm and be done with this?

  “Okay. Would you like me to flesh my vision out for you a bit more?”

  Salvation! “Sure, if you don't mind.”

  “We go to BG 3, give it a proper name, and begin to grow a colony of Kaljaxians, free from the oppression and control of my home world.”

  “Okay. Let me state right now that I'm excited about the plan. I'm all-in!”

  “But?”

  “Yeah, not so much a but as a could you be more specific how we make that happen, physiologically kind of query?”