The Last Dawn: Book 3 of The Last War Series

by Peter Bostrom

“Dunno,” said Reardon. “It wasn’t military. Maybe it was … the aliens.”

  “Those things that attacked Earth last year?” Sammy shuddered visibly, reaching down and fiddling with the brakes on his wheelchair. “You think they’re back?”

  He let silence be his answer as the Aerostar flew onward through the kaleidescope of color.

  “Where are we going?” asked Sammy.

  The answer was clear. “To tell the universe what happened,” said Reardon. “And the only person who’ll listen.”

  Chapter One

  Earth

  Lower Manhattan

  GBC News Building

  Meanwhile

  “Okay, miss Ramirez. We’re on air in three, two…”

  One. Martha Ramirez smiled at camera two. She’d done this a million times, to the point it was almost routine. “Good evening, this is GBC News Talkback Time with Martha. I’m Martha Ramirez and I’m joined here today by two very important guests.” She gestured to her left. “The first is US Admiral Caroline Fischer, Chief of Galactic Operations for the United States Military.” She gestured to her right. “The second is Professor Tuyen Vo from University of California at Berkeley’s Sociology Department. Thank you both for coming here.” She made a show of glancing down at and adjusting her notes, even though the sheets of paper were blank and merely props. “Mister Vo, perhaps you’d like to start us off. Why are we here today?”

  “Well,” said Vo, his brown tweedy jacket patched in a way Ramirez could only assume was a deliberate fashion statement that said, I am a Professor and oh so smart!, “regarding the alien creatures who attacked Earth almost a year ago … Admiral Mattis has made some bold claims regarding their nature and origins, that they come from the future—which frankly I find ludicrous, as I’m sure you do as well. His wild accusations, made guerilla-style from his very own ship with you goading him on, have inspired academic discussion from around the globe and in all parts of the colonized galaxy. The question, of course, on everyone’s lips is … how much truth is there in them?”

  “It’s interesting you mentioned truth,” said Admiral Fischer, her tone clipped and frustrated. “As you are well aware, Admiral Mattis is a coworker of mine, and he went against Department of Defense orders when he spoke to Miss Ramirez as he did. Yes, he did claim that the aliens who attacked Earth were not extraterrestrial beings, but humans who had come, somehow, from the future. And so far the evidence we’ve collected suggests he may be right.”

  “What, like Terminator?” sneered Vo. “Preposterous. Did they arrive naked in a ball of lightning? Did they hit 88 miles an hour? Life is not a campy science fiction movie from hundreds of years ago, Admiral. In real life, we’re bound by pesky things like physics. And reality.”

  “No,” said Admiral Fischer, putting her hands together. “Not like a movie. From what little we’ve been able to gather … and as long as we’re on the subject of ancient campy science fiction movies … their method of time travel more accurately resembles that from Star Trek: First Contact. Some kind of rift in the fabric of space-time, which allows them to journey into the past, but one which can only be used from certain locations and subject to certain, unclear limitations.”

  “You mean they want to steal our whales?” asked Vo, incredulously.

  Admiral Fischer rolled her eyes. “Professor, you’re thinking of Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home. The other Star Trek film with time travel.”

  “Wait. You mean, the aliens came through a black hole?”

  “No.” Admiral Fischer scowled. “That’s the first reboot film where they destroyed Vulcan.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, probably regretting that she was arguing details of three-hundred-year-old movies on galactic television. “Look. We don’t know how they got here, and frankly, it doesn’t matter. All we know is that they’re here. What we need to do now is figure out what they want, and how to stop them.”

  “Right, right,” said Vo, waving his hand dismissively. “So it’s more like Austin Powers and the giant laser,” he said, forming air quotes with his fingers around the word laser. “Well, you’re correct, Admiral Fischer, in that how this alleged technology works simply doesn’t matter. Time travel is a ludicrous prospect. The fundamental laws of physics state that time can only flow in one direction. It can speed up, or slow down, or it can be manipulated by things like Z-space—but even in Z-space, the conservation of energy laws and physics apply. That space is simply … shaped differently than our own, allowing seemingly faster navigation without actually bypassing the natural laws.”

  “Like taking the freeway instead of traveling through backstreets,” said Ramirez, her knowledge of the underlying science shaky at best. But, as the face of the news, she had to fake it convincingly. “You still have to obey the speed limit, but you can travel in a way that’s much more efficient.”

  “That’s right,” said Vo, snapping his fingers. “Admiral Mattis simply doesn’t have the educational background to understand these things.”

  “Excuse me,” said Admiral Fischer, leaning forward in her chair slightly, “that is utterly ludicrous. Admiral Mattis has been commanding US warships for decades now, he understands Z-space travel far better than you do. Aren’t you a Professor of Art?”

  “Sociology is not fine arts,” protested Vo, seemingly quite offended. “It is the study of humans and, now, humanoid creatures of all descriptions. Including the MaxGainz mutants and creatures who attacked Earth. Incidentally, our findings are that they are quite different.”

  “Indeed,” said Admiral Fischer, impassively. “Quite impressive that you, a team of college professors from a university, have been able to determine concrete answers to questions we, in the military, with all our resources and first-hand exposure to the attackers, their bodies, and their technology, have been unable to fully understand.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” he said, smiling widely and reaching behind him, withdrawing a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. “This is why we’re here. UC Berkley’s Sociology Department would like to present a list of our twenty demands for civilian research and interaction with the alien creature or creatures. However many there may be.”

  Ramirez felt her chest tighten. Demands? This hadn’t been on the program schedule … she kept her smile going, her reporter’s instincts fighting the urge to clobber the professor with his own clipboard.

  “Demands?” asked Admiral Fischer, her voice painted with skepticism.

  “Yes. You see, humans have always struggled with our urge to destroy that which we don’t understand. However, in this century we’re a more enlightened people, and accordingly, we at the university would like to open dialogue with the alien creatures.” Vo turned to face camera one. “If you’re listening, otherworldly citizens, it’s our polite request that the military not interfere with this. This is citizen’s diplomacy.”

  Ramirez made sure none of the cameras were looking at her and then casually ran her palm along her face. Admiral Fischer looked at her angrily. Ramirez simply shrugged back.

  “Well,” said Ramirez, trying desperately to bring the conversation back under her control, “that’s all very well and I wish you the best with that. However, there’s also the matter of the Ark Project. Admiral Mattis made other accusations, too, Mister Vo, including that Senator Pitt was deeply involved in a conspiracy, and that there exists a deep state within the US government and all other world governments that is planning some unspecified scheme, and that President Schuyler is part of it and did nothing. I’d imagine tracking down any of them would be easier than tracking down aliens.”

  Vo went to speak up, but before he could, Admiral Fischer received a message on her communicator.

  She stood up immediately. “Miss Ramirez, this interview is over.”

  Ramirez frowned darkly. “I was under the impression these matters could be discussed—”

  “It’s not that,” said Admiral Fischer, tapping away on her communicator before putting it away. “I must r
eturn to my duties. Planet Zenith has been attacked.”

  Ramirez stood as well, leaving a slack-jawed Vo waving his clipboard and shouting something inane as the cameras continued to roll.

  Chapter Two

  Earth

  United States of America

  Georgetown, MD

  Victory Park

  It was good to be back on Earth. Admiral Jack Mattis stretched out on the grass, taking in a deep breath of that natural Earth oxygen, and let it out slowly. The park was crowded and a little noisy, but oh, the air was fresh and clean and good, the breeze comforting, and the sun warm and gentle on his skin.

  This is what made visiting Earth all worthwhile. Not just the weather; watching baby Jack Mattis—Chuck’s son, his grandson—roll around on the grass, squealing happily.

  “I think he’s getting the hang of it,” said Chuck, holding out his hands and letting Jack crawl toward him. “He’ll be walking before we know it.”

  “Then you’ll be in trouble,” said Mattis, unable to fight back a massive grin. “I remember when you started. You used to get into everything … always so inquisitive.” He fell silent for a moment, aware that his son hadn’t changed at all. He was still getting into things he shouldn’t and being overly inquisitive. Into dangerous matters. He finally continued. “If Jack gives you the same trouble you gave me, well, you’re in for quite a ride.”

  “Mmm,” said Chuck, grinning like a kid himself. “Well, maybe now that things have quieted down, you’ll be around to help out more.”

  The notion was actually pleasing to him. “I’ve got a few more weeks leave saved up,” he said. “Now that the Midway is in for a refit on her engines, we’re all able to stretch our legs. Turns out these long distance patrols are really great at racking up time off.” He watched as baby Jack squirmed and kicked, gurgling happily. “Which, you know, I’m starting to appreciate more and more. How’s his condition?”

  Chuck nodded confidently. “The doc says he’s fine now. Had that weird heart murmur, and his hormonal profile was off a bit, but they gave him a shot of something and now he’s fine.”

  “Good. That’s good. Sick babies aren’t fun.” He smiled as baby Jack spotted a butterfly nearby and crawled towards it, babbling delightfully. “Besides, healthy babies are enough of a handful already.”

  “Well,” said Chuck, his tone suggesting this was something he had been thinking about for some while, “Elroy and I could really use you being here more often, especially in this economy. Have you considered … you know. The R word?”

  The R word. Mattis’s happiness evaporated. “I’m sure that I don’t want to retire. Not yet.” He frowned. “And besides, you don’t need me. Don’t you have Elroy to help you out with the kid these days? I’d imagine since you’re not working anymore, finding time for parenting wouldn’t be hard.…”

  Chuck grimaced, looking away. “Yeah. There is that, I guess.”

  Mattis propped himself up on his elbows. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. What were you thinking, son? Breaking into Senator Pitt’s old office? You’re lucky I was able to bail you out … and that you had a great lawyer.”

  Chuck managed a smile. “Without Khalid I’d be screwed, I tell you what. He could sell a thing to a person who … already has access to a very large quantity of that thing.”

  “No kidding.” Mattis reached out and gently touched Jack’s nose, who gurgled happily. “Still. You’re not exactly out of the woods yet.” He wanted to add, stop sticking your nose into things that don’t concern you, but thought better of it.

  “I know, I know.” Chuck groaned. “I can’t leave the state, I had to sell that old pistol, and of course, I got fired. This won’t look good on my resume.”

  “And I thought Elroy was going to be the unemployed delinquent between you two,” said Mattis, a little too teasingly.

  Chuck didn’t seem to appreciate the humor. “He’s working hard, Dad,” he said, an edge of pain creeping into his tone. “Two jobs. He feels like he’s gotta support us now. Give up all his dreams, you know? Just to make ends meet.”

  “You need money?” asked Mattis, “Because—”

  “Nope. We have plenty.” Chuck idly twirled a blade of grass between his fingers. “He’s just … worried, that’s all. He feels that everything’s resting on his shoulders. Like if he slips up, or has any kind of fun at all, we’re all going to be out on the streets starving.”

  It was an entirely normal reaction to have, even with the generous public assistance that most governments of the world—including the USA—offered their citizens. It was a feeling he’d often had early in his career, with Caroline and Chuck at home and him on some ship halfway across the galaxy, irrationally worrying that one slip-up would send them all to the poorhouse. Supporting a family was a heavy burden. “It won’t come to that,” promised Mattis. “You know it won’t.”

  “It’s not me you have to convince,” said Chuck. “That’s … kind of why we were hoping you’d come live with us. Help look after Jack. I mean, after you stepped down from command of the Midway the first time…”

  “This time it’s different,” said Mattis, firmly. “After what happened at Chrysalis I can’t walk away … after what I saw, after what I know, it’s not possible. Not now. Too much depends on it.”

  “I know,” said Chuck. “I just think it’s something worth considering. You’ve had your turn, dad. Maybe … maybe it’s time to let others have theirs?”

  The wind picked up, blowing the grass in waves across the field. Mattis’s communicator chirped. He’d set it to priority only.

  It was tempting—if only for a moment—to just ignore it anyway, but he knew if someone was bothering him during his very limited time off, it would have to be important. But with the Midway in for a refit, something important deserved his attention.

  He flicked open his communicator and stared at the display.

  Lynch: Admiral, we’ve been advised that there’s a top brass meeting happening real soon and they want you there. Apparently something serious is going down.

  His XO wasn’t known for overstatement. Mattis tapped out a response.

  Mattis: How soon is real soon? I’d prefer Wednesday, or tomorrow if it’s urgent.

  Lynch responded almost instantly.

  Lynch: I was thinking more like within the next hour. We’ve sent a transport to pick you up. We have your location, ETA 4 minutes.

  Well … so much for leave. Mattis sighed and stared up at the sky, drinking in the last of that blue, rich sky. “Sorry,” he said, genuinely apologetic. “I don’t think I’ll be retiring today.”

  Overhead, the shadow of a shuttle passed, descending out of the sky with a faint howl, its engines flaring as it hovered over the park. The crowd, sensing its obvious intentions, parted to let it land; the ship positioned itself in the gap, drifting down toward the recently vacated grass.

  “That bad, huh?” said Chuck, obviously a little disappointed, but seemingly becoming used to these kinds of things happening.

  “Yeah,” said Mattis, giving Jack a playful pat on the head before pulling himself up to his feet. “I’ll see you later, son.”

  “Okay, Dad,” said Chuck, scooping up Jack and cradling him comfortingly. “Talk to you soon.”

  Admiral Mattis started to turn to walk towards the shuttle, but stopped. “Chuck, watch yourself. I know you want to be involved. It’s who you are. You’ve always wanted to be the hero. Like me, I guess. But you’ve got him now,” he pointed to baby Jack. “Just … be careful, ok?”

  Chuck nodded after a moment, and after several more, finally said, “You too. I mean it. You’ve had your turn. You’ve been the hero. Isn’t it time to pass the baton?”

  He was about to say, not yet. But he nodded a goodbye and turned to the dropship as its loading ramp extended. Aboard, flanked by two guards, was a face he hadn’t seen in a while.

  Admiral Caroline Fischer, her hands folded behind her back, a stern look on her
normally jovial, media-friendly face.

  He gave baby Jack another wave, then approached up the ramp. “How bad?” he asked.

  “Best we wait until the meeting to discuss it properly,” said Fischer, diplomatically.

  “So, pretty bad,” said Mattis, watching as the loading ramp closed and sealed shut.

  Chapter Three

  Earth

  United States of America

  Georgetown, MD

  Victory Park

  Chuck had really enjoyed spending the afternoon with his dad. Too bad that couldn’t have lasted. He watched, along with the whole crowd, as the shuttle which had so abruptly landed in the middle of a crowded park just as abruptly departed, leaving a few dozen civilians standing around murmuring to each other in confusion.

  Such was life, being the son of a famous war hero. The fact that the shuttle’s passenger had walked away from him drew more than a few eyes his way, but he ignored them and, after giving Jack a little bounce to keep him quiet, turned and walked to his car.

  The vehicle’s charge was running low. Recharging was cheaper if done at home, but if traffic picked up, the vehicle might not make it. Unemployment brought these kinds of concerns to the forefront of his mind; in the past, the pittance for a bit of electricity would have never even crossed his mind. Only a dollar’s difference in truth. Now it was a legitimate decision he had to make. Elroy was right to worry about money.

  He’d have to find a job, but where? The government sector was built on trust—trust he had violated—and painfully incestuous. Everyone knew everyone. Everyone talked.

  Everyone knew what he’d done.

  As he got close to his car, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure moving toward him, wearing a ratty grey coat and military boots. Another veteran, probably. He instinctively avoided eye contact, holding out his hand. “Sorry,” he said, firmly. Dealing with homeless people was just another skill one learned in big cities. Not even universal basic income could take away that.