by Mark Lingane
“Harry Stein, thank you for coming. May I offer you a drink?”
“Yeah, you done the place up nice,” Harry Stein said. “Treated Swedish larch used as mock oak. Gives the room a stately feel without looking too expensive.” He ran his hands over the chair. “Real leather on the seats, though. There’s money in this room. Well, not real money, that goes without saying. Knock me up a double scotch and I’ll call you a friend.”
“There is no money, Stein, not anymore. Just power. And this is the seat of it.”
“Not sure about the hole in the wall upstairs, though. What made that?”
“It’s being attended to.” Hubbard poured the man a large drink. “Are you enjoying the flexibility I’ve afforded you and your friends?”
“Some would argue that you’re enjoying similar hospitality in these ’ere turbulent times.”
Hubbard gave the man a brittle smile. “I have something for you to do. Consider it a favor.”
“I could, but I’m a busy man. Favors cost. You drag me and my platoon out into the countryside miles from ’ome, it puts me in a mood that ain’t too accommodating.”
“I think you forget who has the power around here.”
“What you forget is that I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. I know what you get up to, and I know what you are. You might hide in ’ere with your shiny uniform without ’em knowing, but I know because I listen. That’s the thing about money and power—those who have it don’t care anymore about what people think of ’em. They go a bit mental, start seeing the world through a fractured diamond. Think the world owes ’em something.”
“You knew the field marshal, didn’t you?”
Stein knocked back his drink. “Norton, yeah. He was an all-right man. Someone who could live with power and not let the shit go to his head.”
Hubbard opened a file on his desk. “I note he gave you a dishonorable discharge, although you should’ve been court-martialed.”
“Norton’s a man who could see beyond labels, who looked a bit deeper into circumstances.” Stein leaned forward. “A man who needs to be respected, who’s earned it. Something not to be forgotten.”
“You have your opinion, of course, but part of the reason we’re in this position now is because Norton wouldn’t act. His ‘looking into circumstances’ has cost the world dearly. You may have noticed the blood on the floor when you came in. That was his. He defied me, got in the way. Now he’s dead. Do you understand me?”
“There’s a lot of soldiers who wouldn’t be too impressed by that bit of information.”
“It would be an interesting face-off about who knows what, but the only thing you need to understand is that I have an army. Do you have one? And I also have this.”
Hubbard picked up the pistol from the desk and leveled it at Stein’s head. “I don’t play games. You want to stay leader of your little business endeavor, that’s fine. But you need to watch what you say. If I hear any slanderous statements about me, any at all, I’ll guess that they came from you. And I’ll send my army after you. So I ask you again, are you enjoying the flexibility I’ve afforded you and your friends?”
Stein nodded nervously, staring at the gun held stock-still in front of him.
“Good. We understand each other.” Hubbard laid the pistol back on the desk. “To business. There’s a message I want you to spread. Get it out loud and wide, and get it out now.”
68
CHAMBERS WOKE TO a gentle rocking.
“We’ve got to go,” Hanson whispered.
“I was only resting my eyes,” he mumbled.
“Yes. For five hours.”
Outside, it was night. A full moon was shining brightly. A chill had settled in.
“Anything happen?”
“A few more attacks from the silver crafts, which have kept the locals quiet. But they ended at sunset. I thought I saw some people moving around in the house opposite, but nothing else. Are you right to run?”
Chambers eased up out of the chair. His body was stiff and aching. He tested his shoulder and nodded.
Cally was staring out the window, watching the moonlight bounce off the wrecked cars.
“Let’s go,” Hanson said.
She opened the front door quietly and they made their way into the village street. There was no sound, no movement. The night was clear and cold, and their breath frosted in the still air. They walked down the main street then turned into a smaller road heading to the north.
A figure walked out into the center of the road, indistinct in the pale light.
They turned off the small road and made their way along a street of terraced houses. At the end of the street, two men stood in the center of the lane. One carried a rifle. Hanson turned around. Several other men were approaching from behind at the other end. They were trapped.
She ran toward one of the houses, followed closely by Chambers and Cally, and pushed open the door. There were shouts from the street and the men charged forward. The three ran through the small house. Hanson picked up a chair and smashed it through the glass door of the conservatory, and they ran down the garden and out through an ancient wooden gate. An open field lay beyond.
“There are some woods to the north. It’s our only chance,” Hanson shouted.
They sprinted across the field. Gunfire erupted from behind.
Hanson lunged back at Chambers. “Stay behind me, Reggie.” Their feet collided and they both tumbled to the ground.
“Tracy, what are you doing?” Chambers flinched as pain shot through his shoulder.
“You’ve got to stay safe.”
“Stop acting weird. Just run and don’t talk.”
They struggled back up from the ground and charged ahead. An old flint wall was between them and the woods. Hanson glanced back over her shoulder. There were dozens of men behind them. The woods were only a hundred yards away, but she worried about their ability to lose them in the trees. They clambered up and over the wall, Hanson helping Chambers.
Two more groups of men swooped in from both sides, firing. In the trees ahead Hanson caught movement. They were surrounded. No escape.
Out of the trees poured the army, rank after rank, firing back at their pursuers. The soldiers surrounded Hanson, Chambers, and Cally.
Captain Williams approached and gave them a smile. “It’s not a good day for you.”
Stein ducked for cover under the soldiers’ fire. Bullets sparked off the old flint wall.
“What the hell is going on?” he shouted.
He glanced over the rock wall. The military wasn’t firing at the escapees, but at his men. The gunfire lessened and the soldiers pulled back into the trees.
“We’ve got bloody aliens coming down from the sky and the military shooting at us,” Stein shouted.
“You think they done a deal?” said a gang member.
“What an unholy alliance that would be, but history’s full of ’em. Hubbard’s already done over the field marshal. The brass’ll do anything to save their own bacon. Especially if there’s power involved.”
“An’ we’re nothing but a irritation to them.”
Stein nodded. “This is exactly the kind of stunt that backstabbing general would pull. Kill his own commander to take his place then join the enemy to wipe out the working class. It’s enough. Gather the men.”
Captain Williams dragged the prisoners into Hubbard’s office in the concrete bunker and threw them to the floor. The evidence of their earlier escape was rapidly diminishing. Hubbard paced distractedly around the room, ignoring them. Chambers leapt up and tackled Williams, but the captain grabbed Chambers’ shoulder and pressed down on the wound. Chambers cried out in pain. Hanson jumped up, but a swift backhand caught her across the jaw.
And still Hubbard paced the room, oblivious to the commotion.
Williams pulled out his pistol and aimed it at them. Chambers and Hanson backed off and stood with their hands raised. He patted them down, feeling for weapons, and found the field mar
shal’s security pass. He looked at it quizzically and threw it on the desk.
He glanced at Hubbard. “Er, General …”
The man was walking in circles in the small area behind his desk, muttering and flinching. “No, I’ll do what I want,” he whispered. For the first time, he noticed the group in his office. “Leave us, Captain.”
“Are you sure, General?”
“I said leave us,” Hubbard roared. He glanced at his watch, picked up his pistol, and aimed it at Williams.
Williams stepped back with his palms facing the general. “Calm down, General. I’m leaving.” He stepped out, closing the door.
The three captives were alone with Hubbard. The general pointed the gun at each of them in turn and mimed pulling the trigger, making the accompanying sound effects. He laughed as he pointed at Cally and pulled the imaginary trigger.
“Shame about the child,” he said.
Chambers and Hanson glanced at each other. Hubbard stared at them for a long time until they began to feel uncomfortable. The general glanced down at the pass and picked it up. He smiled and nodded before setting it back down.
“What shall I do with you? What shall I do? Should I … should I … I should ask … shall we see what it says?” He ran his hands over his pockets, a frown creasing his face.
Cally felt something against his foot. He bent down and picked up a small black device, turning it over in his small hands. It felt like it belonged to him.
Hubbard furiously patted his pockets, and then thrust his hands into them. He pulled them inside out, ripping the fabric. Sweat started to form on his brow. His palms began to sweat. He glanced up and saw what Cally was holding.
“Put that down,” he said, “it’s not yours.”
“It is,” Cally said. “Your time—which you stole—is over. You’ve distorted everything.”
“No! It’s mine.”
“But it’s in my hands.”
“Put it down and step away,” Hubbard said, aiming the pistol at Cally.
“Are you going to make me?”
Chambers went to leap at Hubbard, but the general swung the barrel toward him. “Of course I am,” he said to Cally, “you’re a child.”
“Am I? Or is that what you can see? Are you watching carefully?” Cally teased. He turned the device to face Hubbard. The numbers flickered. One. Zero. Zero. One. Zero. “Mine.”
Hubbard paused, confusion and greed twisting his face.
“There’s only room for one,” Cally said. “Two is a contradiction. In physics there can’t be a contradiction. Only one can know the future and that’s me.”
Hubbard pulled up straight. “The voice in the device. It’s you.”
“Mine,” Cally repeated.
“No!” Hubbard screamed.
Cally stepped three small paces backward. Hubbard lunged after him, but the boy was just out of reach. His stretched fingers brushed Cally’s clothing. He swung out with his arm, but Cally had already ducked and Hubbard flailed in the empty space.
Chambers stepped in and punched the general. The man barely flinched.
“It’s mine,” Hubbard cried. He fired a shot at Chambers, who dived out of the way.
“It’s never been yours,” Cally said. “You’ve only been a messenger bringing it to me.”
An explosion rocked the building, sending dust and debris raining down from the ceiling.
Hubbard glanced up. “Who dares …”
Chambers saw the moment. He leaped forward and tackled Hubbard to the ground. “Go, you two,” Chambers shouted.
Hanson grabbed the pass off the desk, wrenched open the door, and pushed Cally out. A shot followed them, embedding into the wall next to them. They ran to the stairs. There was another shot and the sounds of struggle stopped.
Hanson stopped in her tracks and turned back. “No,” she whispered.
“We need to go,” Cally shouted. He bumped her from behind, pushing her toward the stairs.
She took a step to run back to the office but Cally had her off balance. She tumbled down the steps, back to the level of the cells and armory. Several more shots skimmed above their heads. They rolled to the base of the stairs. There were more shots.
Hanson swiped the card and ran into the munitions chamber. Another shot. She had no idea where they were coming from. Her head was spinning. Her arm erupted in pain and she fell. The pass slipped from her hand and skipped away, coming to rest in front of a pair of boots.
Hubbard bent down and picked up the card. Hanson saw blood creeping out from her clothes.
69
HUBBARD PULLED HANSON up by her hair and flung her against the side of a tank. Her head pounded into the metal and her vision flashed red as the pain cut through her. Hubbard smacked Cally aside; the boy crumpled to the ground, dropping the device. Hubbard pounced on it. The green glow of the display shone on his face as he picked it up.
“It was you,” Hanson said. “You were the sniper.”
Hubbard was staring at the device clutched tightly in his hand. His fingers were white with the pressure. He was breathing erratically, and sweating. The muscles along his jaw tensed and flexed.
“Someone had to do it,” he said. “When he came to me, he didn’t have the resolve. But I did. I knew I did. For once it was going to be fair.”
Hanson’s mind was burning. “Henderson. He came to you.”
“He was so weak. ‘I can’t do it, I can’t do it,’ he said. He didn’t see the bigger picture, what could be achieved.”
“You killed him.”
“What’s one more death in all of this destruction? The war’s only just begun. It’ll last for centuries until all humans are wiped out.”
“You’re helping the aliens achieve that.”
“I’m not the villain here. I’m the victim. He’s the evil one,” Hubbard cried, pointing at the unconscious boy, “bringing death and destruction down on all of us. He’s going to kill every single one of us. As long as he lives, the whole planet’s doomed.”
“Then why did you miss?”
Hubbard hesitated. “I never miss.”
“Then why is Cally still alive?”
“You’re so much like your father. I’m not a failure.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“Oh, but Brigadier Hanson was so happy to tell me how useless I was. When he broke the line, he caused all this trouble.”
“What line?”
“The sniper line. For millennia we’ve been trying to stop that boy from existing. We had one last chance to stop the war. A special military sniper was being bred to finish it once and for all. The perfect sniper. A Hanson. ‘Shame about the child.’ That’s what the brigadier used to say, smiling like he always did. Laughing.”
“My father would never kill a child.”
“Shame about the child.” Hubbard stalked around the room, muttering, “Shame about the child. Shame about the child. Shame about the child.” He paused and looked at Hanson. “It’s you.”
“What?”
Hubbard snapped his fingers. His voice filled with a manic energy. “You are the child. But you were also his child, so he forced you out of the military. Then they had to come up with a new plan. Because you didn’t do it, we all had to. You were supposed to be the one to kill him. Yes, it was you. You can stop all of this. If the boy dies, there’ll be no war. They’ve come because he lives.”
He stared at her. “You’re the one who’s a failure.”
“But you’re the one who couldn’t kill Cally,” she spat.
“He’s impossible to kill. He’s protected. We’ve all tried. God, how we’ve tried. But now we have the chosen one. I understand it all now.”
He placed the gun in her hand and slipped her finger onto the trigger, pointing the barrel at Cally. “Squeeze and all this will end. The war will be over. All the pain will go away. We can rebuild. It’s your responsibility.”
Tears ran down her face. Cally stirred. He looked over at her, s
tartled to see the pistol aimed at him. She threw it down.
“Two out of three, Dad,” she whispered. “Hubbard, you’ve failed.”
She didn’t see the punch coming; it drove her to the ground.
“I think not,” Hubbard said. “Not this time, and not with this.”
He slapped his hand against the side of the enormous nuclear bomb. He swiped the field marshal’s security card, followed by his own, over the control panel. A series of lights across the panel went green, then red. He typed a short code on the keyboard and 05:00 appeared on a small display. The whole chamber became bathed in a red glow. His hand hovered over a large button.
“Here’s something you won’t escape,” he said to Cally. “I’ll do what no one else has been able to do—cause your death and bring an end to the war.”
Cally laughed and clutched at his head.
“What are you sniggering about?”
“I can see how you die.”
“Oh, can you? Is that one of your little flashes of the future?”
“Sort of. But mainly it’s the man behind you with the gun.”
Hubbard wheeled around.
Chambers fired.
Hubbard flew across the floor, clutching at his stomach and dropping the field marshal’s card. Blood smeared across the concrete in a long trail. Chambers limped in, bleeding from the shoulder, leaning heavily on the weaponry.
Hanson wrapped her good arm around him and helped him sit down. “You survived!” she said. “I was so worried.”
“Where is everyone?” Chambers said.
“Would you hang around a place that’s going to blow up? Hubbard was the sniper.”
Chambers laughed. “Unbelievable, the guy was rotten to the core.”
“It was meant to be me—I was meant to kill Cally. But when my father forced me out of the military it changed everything. He did it to save me.”