V_The 2nd Generation

by Kenneth Johnson

  "Intimate," Jeremy considered the word carefully, as a connoisseur might mull over a vintage wine. He was also enjoying keeping her in suspense. "Yes. One could say that."

  "A liaison you doubtless encouraged?"

  "Well, Diana, I didn't discourage it." He was moving toward the hatch, which opened as he approached. He paused in the hatchway and looked back. "Any more than you did in your day."

  He saw from her calculating, dangerous eyes that she felt it was still her day. Jeremy, however, was unintimidated. He smiled at her with a faint, private superiority and departed.

  EMMA WAS STRUGGLING TO ENDURE PAUL'S ACT OF SEX THAT HAD continued in numerous variations far longer than she would've thought possible or ever wanted. He was now finally atop her, passionately pumping rhythmically into her harder and harder with his eyes squinted tightly closed. Emma was flinching and gasping in pain, which he interpreted as extreme gratification. Her fingernails dug into his back so sharply that she pierced through his faux human outer skin. Her fingertips felt his true leathery reptilian skin beneath. It so shocked Emma that she inadvertently cried out in horror. The Visitor took it to be her supreme libidinous encouragement and it inspired his action to an intensely fevered peak as he climaxed inside her. His entire body convulsed with a strange and frighteningly nonhuman quivering that started at the tip of his toes and swept in forceful, successive waves up through his body to the top of his head. Emma gasped again in fear, but her outcry was overpowered by his climactic bellow, which sounded all the more bestial because of the resonant alien quality of his voice.

  After a long moment that felt endless to Emma he rolled off and laid beside her, glowing. They both were breathing heavily. The curiously inhuman quivering coursed through him again and Emma wanted nothing so much as to leap from the bed. It was only by the greatest exertion of will that she was able to pretend calmness.

  At length he spoke without looking at her, "Are you all right?"

  "Mmm . . . wonderful," she lied gracefully as she slid from the bed. "I'll be right back."

  Alone in her designer bathroom, Emma leaned over the sink, gagging with dry heaves that wrenched her whole frame. She continued trembling with silent tears as she cupped water in her hands to wash away his spittle from her mouth and cheeks. Then she sat on the cold white tiles at the edge of her spa tub and wiped the blood from the inside of her upper thighs where he had bitten her. There was also a fine trickle of blood from within her. She sat there stunned, her stomach churning, detesting what she had just endured. She was startled when her phone rang. She instinctively grabbed for it, then saw the caller ID and wished she hadn't answered. She whispered meekly, "Hi . . ."

  Mark Ohanian was in the shirtsleeves of his business attire, working late in his mayoral office at City Hall. "Oh, I'm sorry, honey, did I wake you?"

  "No," she felt dazed, "I mean. It's okay."

  "Just having some warm thoughts about you"—he smiled as he toyed with the chopsticks in his Chinese take-out dinner box and leaned closer into the phone—"some very warm thoughts."

  "Me, too, you." Emma was choking back tears. "Um, can I call you back?"

  Paul was enjoying the feel of the silk sheets on Emma's bed as she slid her satiny, cocoa butter body back in beside him. She was determined to play her role perfectly, to be perceived as comfortable and composed. "Do you think your Leader will like me?"

  "Mmmm"—he nodded as he reached over and cupped her nearest breast—"who wouldn't? And particularly after what you'll do at the war rally."

  "Well, I'll certainly do whatever I can." She kissed his cheek and snuggled closer, seemingly relaxed and nonchalant. "How imminent is this war anyway? And against whom?"

  BY THE FOLLOWING NIGHT, JULIE WAS ABLE TO GATHER HER GROUP and the Zedti into a circle in the Resistance warehouse. "Emma has done some extraordinary intelligence work. She found out for certain that the prime reason the Visitors came to Earth is to establish an advance base for launching attacks."

  "Using our water to power their Armada," Robert said.

  "Yes," Julie said, "and our people as troops. That's what they've been building up to over the years. Emma said Teammates are already training with the Visitors' new chemical weaponry. As soon as all Teammates are trained and the chemical is replicated in volume aboard the Motherships the Visitors will attack the Zedti outposts and then the Zedti home planet."

  Bryke and Kayta glanced at Ayden. All three realized that their worst suspicions had been confirmed. Nathan looked sharply at the Zedti. "So why the hell doesn't your fleet just come now and blow them away?"

  "It is not that easy," Ayden said, "the Visitors are a true hyper-power. We must do methodical reconnaissance first."

  Margarita drew a breath. "Ayden, no offense, but we need to talk to your people's leader so that—"

  "You are talking to him," said Kayta.

  The humans all blinked. Then they regarded Ayden with even more respect, though it didn't change his own attitude in the slightest as he went on, "We need a sample of that chemical weapon to analyze and—"

  Bryke suddenly hissed and jumped reflexively to her feet, ready for combat. She was looking toward the door behind the others who turned and saw that Willy and Harmy had entered.

  "She'll be safer here," Willy said. "She was arrested and they . . ." He had become aware of the three with the sheen to their skin. And their pink, blue, and amber eyes, which were all staring daggers at him. His heart fluttered with fear.

  Julie understood what was happening and calmed the Zedti. "This is Willy, one of our most trusted allies. He's saved many lives and is married to Harmy." Then she turned toward Willy as she introduced the Zedti. "This is Ayden, Kayta, and Bryke. They saved Ruby's life and Nathan's. They're working with us, Willy." She turned back toward Ayden with a gesture that encouraged him to continue.

  Ayden eyed Willy a moment longer, then he seemed to accept Julie's explanation, and resumed. "We need a sample of their chemical to analyze and determine its exact nature and its danger to our kind." Ayden turned his steely gaze back at Willy, who was very edgy.

  Margarita had gone to Willy. "Are you all right?"

  He tried to speak quietly and without showing any emotion, though his voice was urgent and nervous. "The Zedti are notorious for being devious and self-swerving." He corrected himself, "Self-serving."

  "You've experienced that yourself?"

  "Not personally, no," he had to admit, "but still . . ."

  "Listen"—Margarita touched his arm comfortingly—"Winston Churchill said the only thing worse than having allies is not having allies."

  Willy weighed her words. He looked at the Zedti, then back at Margarita. His expression was concerned and fearful.

  AT ABOUT THAT SAME TIME, WITHIN DIANA'S INNER SANCTUM, SHAWN was reporting to his Commandant, who was sitting at her conference table. She had her finger on the tail of a mouse that was sniffing the tabletop in a small circle. She was frowning thoughtfully as Shawn spoke. "The meeting to plan for our Leader's grand arrival rally has been arranged as you ordered. We'll meet at Candlestick Park Stadium at noon tomorrow."

  "That planning session and the rally itself must be flawless. The Leader must see how we are in firm control."

  "Of course, Commandant"—Shawn clicked his heels—"will that be all?"

  "Yes." Then as he started toward the door, the dark-eyed Commandant had another thought. "No. There is something else."

  He turned back and inclined his head respectfully toward her. "I serve at your pleasure."

  Diana looked up slowly from the mouse, the tip of whose tail she kept firmly beneath her finger. "Do you, indeed?"

  "Of course, Commandant." He took a step closer. "And if I may say, these years as your lieutenant have been most . . . educational."

  "Then I'm sure you realize that you must take care, Shawn, never to let your ambition outweigh your loyalty."

  He feigned slight confusion. "Your advice is always welcome, Commandant."

&nb
sp; "My advice," she wanted to phrase this carefully, to be certain that it never came back to haunt her, "my advice is for you to observe Commandant Jeremy with utmost care. There is much to learn from him also. And about him. Of course any information that might impact on our person would naturally be the most valuable. And the most appreciated."

  With a faint, wise smile that implied an entre nous understanding, Shawn nodded. "Of course, Commandant."

  She had been studying him and thought she detected something hidden. "Have you such information already, Shawn?"

  He met her gaze directly. "Certainly not, Commandant, or I would have already brought it to your attention. But I will absolutely be vigilant. And, of course, discreet."

  "I'm sure you will. That will be all."

  He bowed respectfully and exited. Diana stared after him.

  In the corridor outside her chamber, Shawn breathed a sigh of relief. Then as he walked slowly away he continued to carefully weigh the options of where to place his loyalty.

  MIKE HAD BEEN ENCOURAGED BY KAYTA TO TRY WALKING AGAIN. SHE and Ruby were on either side of him lending support. But he faltered, then collapsed in agony, laughing bitterly.

  Kayta was undeterred. "Good. You are improving."

  "Yeah, right. Look, it doesn't matter anyway."

  "It does too matter, Mike!" Ruby was vehement. "It matters to the whole Resistance."

  "No, it doesn't." Mike sloughed her off, "You don't know what you're talking about, kid."

  "Yes, I do!" Ruby was fired up. "Don't you realize that back at the beginning you were the whole, entire Resistance! All by yourself. You were the one who discovered the stuff that started it all."

  Mike was acerbic. "Fat lot of good it did."

  "You're damn right"—Ruby was in his face—"it did do a fat lot of good. Saved a lot of people's lives, gave a lot of people hope that maybe we could somehow figure out a way to beat these bastards."

  "Yeah?" He feigned innocent interest. "And how exactly are you doing on that, Rube?"

  She flared angrily, "Not great, I know that! But do you think I'm gonna quit?" She swept an arm around angrily, indicating the other freedom fighters in the warehouse, some of whom had paused in their tasks to watch her confrontation with Mike. "Do you think any of them are gonna quit? Or any of the others who are working out of dumps like this all over the friggin' world?" She stepped closer to him again, standing tall to her full four feet eleven inches. "Let me tell you something, Mr. Donovan, your own personal rehab is important, but not nearly as important as what Mom told me you've always represented: The Fighting Spirit. For all the people in the Resistance to hear you were back on your feet and back in action—I'm telling you, that would be like a shot in the arm to everybody and—"

  "Kid, kid, hang on"—he waved for her to calm down—"I love your enthusiasm, I really do. And I hate to burst your bubble, but even these Zedti guys are running scared." He spoke the rest one word at a time for emphasis: "We are stuck with the damn Visitors, Ruby."

  Julie was passing with Ysabel and said casually, "We're stuck with mortality, too, Mr. Donovan, but that doesn't mean we should just lie around waiting to die." Then Julie continued her business as usual, looking at her compatriot. "Ysie, try to get the new Hong Kong cell in the loop next time we talk to Asia."

  Julie moved on, busy and committed. Mike stared irately, watching her go. Then he realized Kayta's violet eyes were watching him.

  "Please," the lovely blonde said with gentle encouragement, "take another step or two."

  "Or ten, how about ten?" Ruby insisted with a very sharp edge of determination. Mike looked down into the half-breed's blue eyes. They were bright and supportive, but definitely, positively demanding.

  A PAIR OF VISITOR SHUTTLE CRAFT WERE CRISSCROSSING IN THE BLUE sky over the Bay Bridge. Emma had a fleeting thought about how rarely there were big fluffy clouds in the sky anymore. She had heard it was a result of the water diminishing around the world. She was standing on the Embarcadero a few blocks south of the old Ferry Building. She gazed out across the dried, cracked mud of the empty harbor toward Treasure Island. She could clearly see the huge blimp hangar and she pictured the suffering patients within it. She thought of the sickly little boy who had touched her coat the night she had been there.

  Street-C was nearby chewing on a matchstick and appearing to loiter while he checked out his cornrows in a small mirror, but his sharp eyes were actually on the lookout for any sign of trouble in front or behind them.

  Margarita leaned against the wooden railing. Anyone observing might not have even known she was talking to Emma. "There's an important meeting tomorrow at noon."

  "Yes," Emma said, "at Candlestick. They want me there to help plan for the Leader's big arrival rally."

  "Good, I thought they might." Margarita nodded. "Martin said that Diana, Jeremy, Shawn, and other key aides will also be there."

  Emma concurred, "I've heard that."

  "If we could take them out it would very likely delay the Leader's arrival. That would give us and the Zedti more time to plan for—"

  "Wait," Emma interrupted, "what do you mean 'take them out'?" She frowned as she studied the redhead's face carefully.

  Margarita weighed her words and spoke slowly, "Emma, there's a terrible irony about fighting against brutal tyranny. Because those like us who're opposed to it often have to use brutal methods to defeat it." She saw that Emma was still staring at her, not certain she understood or even wanted to. So Margarita got specific. "When you go to that meeting we want you to carry in a device."

  Emma felt the blood draining from her face. "What?"

  Margarita clarified, "It will be a small surgical strike."

  " 'Device'? You mean some kind of explosive!"

  "You only have to get it there," Margarita said. "Then Martin will plant it beside Diana and Jeremy. It'll be triggered remotely once you've gotten to safety."

  Emma wanted to laugh or scream or run. "Margarita. No. I mean"—she was fumbling to find words—"look. Gathering information is one thing"—she thought of her appalling sexual encounter with Paul—"and it's way bad enough, believe me, but—"

  "Hey, Emma, listen up." Street-C had jumped in angrily, throwing down his toothpick. "It's them or us, don't you get it? They killed my family. My momma, my dad, my little sister. Wiped out my whole fuckin' 'hood and about a zillion others. We've got to do whatever to stop 'em."

  Emma's mouth had suddenly gone dry. She looked fearfully at the impassioned young man, then at Margarita.

  THAT NIGHT JEREMY'S SILVER SHUTTLE HAD FLOWN OUT ACROSS THE Pacific Desert past the edge of the continental shelf where the ocean now began. It had continued on some fifteen hundred miles west of San Francisco. The pilot, Gina, called back to her passengers, "Commandants? . . . It's just ahead."

  She dimmed the cockpit lights so that they could all have a better view. Jeremy stepped forward and Shawn noticed that he placed a congenial hand on Gina's shoulder as he looked over it and out the cockpit window. Diana, somewhat tight-lipped, also stepped forward to look out.

  The light from a full moon was glittering off of the corrugated surface of the sea a thousand feet beneath them. About twenty miles ahead of them and at a slightly higher altitude was a hovering Mothership.

  "Our Honolulu ship," Jeremy surmised.

  "Yes," Diana said, "although there's not much water left around Hawaii any longer."

  "Very soon there'll be none left anywhere," he said as he smiled and squeezed Gina's shoulder gently. Shawn noticed.

  As their shuttle drew closer to the Mothership they could clearly see one of Jeremy's huge new plug-ins attached beneath the great ship. It was drawing up a funnel of water that looked to be at least a half mile wide, rising like a gigantic, upside-down tornado sucking Earth's lifeblood up into the massive belly of the Mothership.

  IN THE RESISTANCE COMMUNICATIONS TRUCK, YSABEL HAD PUNCHED up the same image, which their spy Lee was secretly forwarding from the Flagship Centcom.
The freedom fighters were gathered closely, greatly disturbed.

  "God. It looks like it's about a thousand times more efficient," Julie said gravely.

  Nathan nodded. "Good-bye Earth. Watch out Zedti."

  Kayta had stepped away from them, softly answering her pin radio. "Yes, sir?"

  Ayden was also out over what remained of the Pacific Ocean on his airbike. He was several miles north of Gina's shuttle and above it. Like the Visitors he was also surveying the new Mothership device and its astonishing effectiveness at taking in the water as he spoke into his communicator, "Their progress has gained speed exponentially. Alert the fleet to prepare for attack on the Visitor Armada here."

  In the warehouse Kayta stepped farther away from the others as she whispered urgently, "But, sir, you know what that attack will do to the Earth and its people?"

  Ayden's voice held no trace of emotion. "Of course I know, Kayta. Make the call."

  WAITING IN DEEP SPACE, HIDDEN BEHIND MAGNIFICENTLY RINGED Saturn, lurking in the darkness of that gigantic planet's shadow, was an immense spacecraft nearly twice the size of a Visitor Mothership. It did not have the clean, simple lines of the Visitors' huge saucer-shaped star cruisers, however. The Zedti Flagship looked ungainly, irregular. It didn't give the appearance of having been mechanically constructed, but rather looked as though it had been organically grown. A human eye might have likened its design to the quality of termite mounds or a large wasp nest. But the wasps necessary to create this colossal ship would have been of truly Brobdingnagian proportions such as Gulliver might have encountered during his visit to the land of the giants.

  Tiny craft with a similar look buzzed around it, traveling in and out of deep cavities that pitted the surface of the central vessel. Any person from Earth who looked upon the scene would have found it unsettlingly alien.