V_The 2nd Generation

by Kenneth Johnson

  "You were so fucking convincing"—he laughed darkly—"and I am a prize fucking fool, huh!"

  "Listen to me!" She looked fiercely at him. "I do love you!"

  "Right"—he laughed bitterly—"funny way of showing it: by screwing Paul and God knows who else so you can pump all of them for information, too!"

  She suddenly shrieked at him through angry, bitter tears. "I hate what I've had to do! Okay! Do you hear me? I detest it!" She leveled her gaze at him, speaking forcefully, "But my body is no more important than all the others who risk or lose theirs in this war! Now let me call to warn them before—"

  "Stop it!" He bellowed so loudly the walls seemed to shake. He grabbed the phone from her, ripped it from the wall, and drew back his arm about to smash her face with the instrument. He paused at the last second, quivering with rage, and then he threw it past her, shattering the large, ornate mirror that had been reflecting them. He glared at her with an intensity she had never seen from him, then he turned resolutely and walked out.

  IN THE FLAGSHIP'S BOWELS JON RUSHED OUT OF THE TRANSPORT tube onto the dark lower level where the half-breed girl told him she'd seen Willy. Jon ran flat-out down the inky passageway, startling other Visitor workers. He was finally rewarded with a brief glimpse of Willy passing a distant intersection ahead. Jon called out, but Willy didn't hear, so Jon ran even harder to intercept him.

  At the same time on Nob Hill, Emma reached the phone in her living room and was dialing it hurriedly.

  The Resistance warehouse was nearly empty because the teams had already left on their missions. Harmy was filling in for Gary and helping Ysabel contact the rest of the international Resistance cells to alert them of the forthcoming action. Mike was shuffling painfully behind his wheelchair, again using it as a walker. He was coming from the database truck where he had been doing further astronomical research. His suspicions about the Zedti's home planet had been confirmed. They had lied. Mike was heading to confront Kayta.

  Ruby was also in the warehouse and feeling very frustrated. Julie had laid down the law to her to stay put this time. When the base cell phone rang, Ruby grabbed it. "This is Lexington Base, go ahead." Mike glanced over and saw the human aspects of the girl's scaly face go pale as she gasped, "What! Oh, my God! I'll try to catch them!" She rushed toward Mike and pressed the phone into his hand. "Emma says the Visitors know everything we've planned! We've got a spy!"

  "What!"

  Ruby was running for the door. "Right in the middle of us!"

  "Who is it?"

  "She didn't know. But we've got to tell Mom they're all in danger." She shouted back to him, "See if you can reach her! Speed dial one! I'll try to catch up with them!" The frightened girl dashed out the door. Mike dialed the cell and got a fast busy signal. Then he was surprised as the phone rang in his hand.

  He was confused as he answered, "Yeah? Julie! Listen—"

  He heard a Visitor voice on the other end speaking urgently, "No, it's me, William. Is that you, Mike?"

  "Willy, yeah it's me, listen—"

  "No, you listen first. I'm in a laboratory on the Flagship. Jon snuck me in here as soon as the others left for the rally."

  Willy glanced around nervously to be certain the lab was indeed still empty. Young Jon had been keeping a careful watch. They were the only two in the chamber. Then Willy looked back at the black and white screen, which showed a blurry, unsteady view of Resistance headquarters. "Listen to me: there's a hidden camera down there in the warehouse."

  "What!" Mike's eyes scanned the place quickly. "Where?"

  "Jon thinks it's inside someone!"

  Mike was appropriately startled by that concept. "Inside someone!"

  "Yes, transmitting an image from their optic nerve! I'm looking right now at an image from the warehouse! There's faint audio as well. Who's there with you?"

  He looked around quickly. "The Secretary-General, his wife, Ysabel, one of the Zedti named Kayta . . ."

  Willy was watching the monitor and saw the people Mike was describing. "Who else?"

  "Ruby was here, but she just took off"—then he saw—"Harmy?" Mike had a sudden flash. "Oh, my God. While she was interrogated! They must have—"

  "No, no," Willy said, "I can see all of them. Harmy, too. So it has to be someone else."

  Mike looked around again. "But everybody else is—Oh, my God . . ." He had chanced to look at a shiny teakettle nearby where he glimpsed his own reflection. In the Flagship lab Willy saw the same thing Mike was seeing. They both realized the awful truth simultaneously as Mike said, "It's in me!"

  Outside, Ruby was rushing back across the junk-filled industrial complex toward the Resistance warehouse. She was grief-stricken because her attempt to catch Julie had been fruitless. Then she looked up to see a squad of Visitor Patrollers moving in to surround the building. She ducked behind a rusting forklift, her eyes quickly scanning for more of the enemy. She saw that four Airborne Patrollers, two Teammate units, and a pair of Patrol shuttles were all inbound. The twelve-year-old felt her world crumbling around her. She whimpered desperately to herself, "Oh, God. Please, no . . ."

  Although Mike wasn't aware of the troops encircling the building, he had alerted the others within to the danger he himself posed to them. Secretary Mendez and his wife Juanita had climbed into the communications truck as Ysabel jumped into the driver's seat and started it up. Harmy closed the side doors of that truck, shouting, "Good luck!" Then she stepped up uncertainly into the truck housing the electron microscope. Julie had instructed her to endeavor to save the priceless equipment that truck contained in the event of an emergency. Harmy had never driven a truck, but was determined to do it.

  Kayta had opened the wide doors of the warehouse and then hurriedly began collecting all of her Zedti medical equipment as Ysabel drove the communications truck out of the warehouse with Harmy's equipment truck stuttering out behind her. They were barely clear of the warehouse when they were suddenly and brilliantly illuminated by glaring searchlights from the incoming Patrol vehicles overhead.

  Ysabel squinted into the bright lights and grabbed for a pulse rifle on the seat beside her, but then realized that they were hopelessly surrounded. She was furious, spitting the words angrily in Spanish, "God damn it to hell."

  In the truck immediately behind Ysabel, panicky fear gripped Harmy as she also saw they were trapped.

  Inside the old building, Kayta helped Mike get painfully to his feet, but didn't have much encouragement. "They're everywhere. I don't think there's a way out for us."

  Then they heard a scraping of heavy metal and Mike saw a rusty drain grating in the concrete floor sliding open. Ruby's scaly knuckles were bloodied and she was smudged with filth. She called urgently to them, "This way, you guys! Hurry!"

  AYDEN'S AIRBIKE WAS GLIDING THROUGH THE NIGHT SKY A THOUsand feet over the rooftops of San Francisco. He was flying south toward Candlestick Park. Nathan was firmly on the seat behind the Zedti commander. He had just checked the radiation card Robert had given him and was pleased to see that it was green, indicating no radioactivity.

  Ayden's piloting and attitude was as thoroughly commanding, businesslike, and focused as ever. Nathan had observed the entire process of flying the bike and noticed Ayden making slight adjustments to the airbike's trim just as Nathan had often made himself when flying a Visitor patrol craft or a fighter. He did not realize that the final adjustment Ayden casually made was to a control for the small nuclear missile mounted on the lower front of the bike. The Zedti surreptitiously switched its guidance system on and activated the primer for its nuclear triggering mechanism. A tiny indicator on the bike's control panel began to blink a cautionary yellow.

  RUBY, MIKE, AND KAYTA WERE HURRYING THROUGH THE STEAMY storm sewers that led away from the warehouse complex. Ruby was trying to contact Julie by radio while Kayta supported Mike who was angry on several counts. "Diana kept me alive to use me: she figured there was probably still a spy or two up on the Flagship, maybe she even susp
ected Martin, so she dangled that bait about her 'special prisoner' waiting for someone to bite."

  Kayta understood and completed his thought, "Knowing you'd then be rescued and brought to the Resistance, yes. And that's why they let you escape from Harmy's. Ayden and I saw their troops arrive, then hold back."

  "But why'd they arrest Harmy later?" He immediately realized, "For show. Of course. To throw us off the scent." Mike felt terribly responsible. "I can't believe I let it all happen."

  "You were barely alive, Mike," Kayta counseled as she helped him limp along. "You didn't even know where you were." She saw that it was no comfort to him. She felt guilty herself. "I'm the one who should have realized it. I sensed something wrong the first time I met you."

  "When I said it was just my bad vibes, yeah. We didn't know how bad they were."

  Ruby pounded her radio in frustration. "I can't get a damned signal. I'm going up." She grabbed the slimy rung of an access ladder nearby but Mike pulled her back as a searchlight knifed through a grating over them casting sharp parallel shadows across their faces.

  "I wonder if the bastards can still get a signal from me? Still see where we are?" He looked at Kayta. "Can you feel it in there? Shut it off somehow?"

  Kayta touched Mike's left temple with her fingertips. She closed her violet eyes, trying to sense it. "I am not certain."

  He was resolute. "You've got to try, otherwise I'll be no good to anybody but them."

  Kayta reluctantly reached into her pack and withdrew one of her electric needles. "There will be pain, Mike."

  He chuckled darkly. "What else is new? Go for it."

  She felt his temple again with her ultrasensitive fingertips until she pinpointed the source of a ghostly faint electrical fluctuation. Then she pierced his temple with her needle. Mike gasped. Kayta glanced upward, having heard Visitor and Teammate voices drawing near overhead, searching for them.

  "We must be quiet!" Kayta said, about to withdraw the needle.

  "Don't stop," Mike hissed through his teeth, which were clenched against the pain. It was far worse than he'd expected.

  Ruby had also flinched in sympathy with the agony Mike was undergoing. Her scaly little hand snapped out to him in support. Mike grasped it and held on tightly, choking down his pain as the voices continued almost directly over their heads.

  "My left eye," Mike gasped, "I can't see out of it now."

  Then Kayta withdrew the needle and Mike sagged, damp with sweat. Kayta checked a tiny indicator on her instrument and nodded, whispering, "I think I disabled it."

  Mike swallowed hard, drawing deep breaths. Then he whispered back to her, "You better give my legs another dose." The blond Zedti looked at him, she feared putting him through additional pain, but his insistent gaze spurred her on.

  She prepared the electric needle for the second operation and Ruby positioned herself behind Mike, whispering, "Lean back on me, Mike." He did and the girl reached around him from behind to hold his hands again.

  As Kayta injected his right leg, Mike squirmed and pressed back against the supportive little half-breed girl. He was nearly fainting from the searing, stinging pain. Ruby held him tightly.

  AFTER THE GIGANTIC, SIXTEEN-MILE-WIDE FLAGSHIP THAT FILLED the sky over the city, the second largest structure in San Francisco was Candlestick Park. It was massive. It had been built in a roughly oval shape, with the east side twisted slightly into a boomerang curve in a failed effort to diminish the winds that plagued the playing field. It was the height of a twelve-story building and the forty thousand seats of the upper level completely encircled the thirty-five thousand seats below them. On the evening of the Visitor rally, an additional twenty-five thousand seats had been set up on the field to accommodate the over-flow crowd.

  Located right on the water of San Francisco Bay, Candlestick Park had been infamous for being very cold and foggy even in the middle of summer. But since the waters of the bay had been taken away, the fog had all but vanished as well. It was said that the prevailing, chilly winds from left center field made Candlestick the most difficult American ballpark in which to hit a home run. But that was exactly what the Visitors intended to do on the night of the rally.

  The enormous coliseum had been decked out like a grand opening ceremony for the Olympic Games. Huge Visitor and American flags wafted from its highest reaches. Of the hundred thousand people gathered, over half wore Teammate uniforms. There were also tens of thousands of uniformed Visitors present. Some were interspersed among the humans, others were marshaled proudly into individual rank-and-file contingents. Several companies of armed Patrollers with gleaming stainless-steel ceremonial helmets surrounded the raised dais in the center of the stadium field behind where second base would have been.

  The dais, elevated some eight feet in the air, already that evening had been the stage for a number of performers in a program designed to invigorate the assembling crowd. A dozen huge vid screens had been erected around the stadium to show close-up images of those onstage. Two rock bands selected for their crossover appeal to numerous age groups had gotten the evening off to a rousing start. Then three tenors from the Metropolitan Opera in New York had dazzled the audience with their intricate vocal pyrotechnics accompanied by the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra and Chorus, who were on the field in front of the dais. Finally the orchestra had performed the concluding movement from Beethoven's Fifth Symphony during which the fifty Mother-ship captains took their seats along one side of the dais. Joining them on the other side of the stage were many of the human Players who worked most closely with the Visitors. The mayor and his key aides were among them, as were the owners or managers of the principal Earthside facilities that served the Visitors' needs, including Alexander Smithson, the weapons manufacturer, and J. D. Oliver.

  Several secondary aides to the Visitor Commandants were sitting in a section reserved for them on the field next to the orchestra. Martin sat among them.

  As the Fifth Symphony ended and the applause died down, a deep human voice echoed from the stadium's huge loudspeakers, "Distinguished guests, fellow Visitors and Teammates, ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Commandants Diana and Jeremy!"

  The symphony played a slow, strong, and dignified work, reminiscent of Elgar's "Pomp and Circumstance," as the two powerful chieftains were escorted onto the stage by Shawn and several other aides. Diana and Jeremy graciously acknowledged the welcoming applause and the straight-armed palm-up salutes from the assembled multitude. Then they took their seats in the center of the dais. Shawn and the other key aides sat down behind them.

  From the dizzying heights at the top of the stadium to those on the field closest the dais, there was an expectant enthusiasm among the buzzing crowd. Then their myriad conversations grew hushed as the orchestral work diminished to silence while the lights began to dim, revealing more of the stars twinkling in the black sky above.

  Everyone focused on the dais where a lone African-American female stepped into the powerful spotlights. In the darkness nearby, Diana was discreetly eyeing the beautiful singer who wore a floor-length, off-the-shoulder, ivory sheath dress. Emma began to sing an a cappella solo in her clean, clear voice. People recognized the familiar melody of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic," but the lyrics were new. Emma's singing was extremely slow and measured.

  "Mine eyes have seen the Glory . . .

  Of the People from the Stars . . .

  They will bring a bright Tomorrow . . .

  To this troubled world of ours . . ."

  Because her face was being shown in close-up on the giant screens in the coliseum, everyone there and also around the world noticed that there seemed to be tears in Emma's eyes as she sang. Most of those watching assumed that her tears were occasioned by the emotional, poignant honor she felt at representing the Visitors and her devout dedication to them.

  The new lyrics continued to glorify the Visitors and herald the arrival of their Great Leader.

  Emma's image was also displayed in the C
entcom aboard the Flagship where the Resistance spy, Lee, had secured a key position for herself near the transmission section. Numerous monitors in front of her were individually labeled To Europe, Asia, Africa, and other specific areas of Earth. Lee knew that billions of people in cities and villages across the world were being sent the images from Candlestick Park. From mansions in cities like New York, London, and Paris, to suburban homes on the outskirts of places like Indianapolis or Prague, to cheap walk-up tenements in the likes of Buenos Aires, Auckland, or Osaka, to scanty huts in Third World locales like Afghanistan, Chile, or Indonesia, the inhabitants of Earth were watching. All of those billions of people had felt the impact of the Visitors, both good and bad, for over twenty years. Tonight they all felt anxious anticipation. They had been told that on this evening something very new was going to begin; an exciting new chapter about to open. The broadcast from San Francisco was the only transmission being allowed that evening and it was on every channel worldwide.

  And among the vast audience that was watching were the women and men who were secretly working against the Visitors. They had received the communication from the Prime Resistance Cell in San Francisco to be prepared for what would transpire this evening. The freedom fighters had been told by their local leaders to arm themselves. And they had all done so in the hopes that the Resistance would finally be able to achieve their long-awaited breakthrough, to turn the tide against their hated occupiers.

  In the Centcom, Lee glanced at a slightly larger monitor that was designated as the incoming on-air feed and was duly labeled From Marin Comm Link.

  The Marin Communications Center was situated on a rural hilltop north of San Francisco. Its large dish antenna was fifty feet in diameter and aimed at the distant Flagship. Margarita, Street-C, Julie, and others of their team had stealthily made their way up the thickly forested hillside. They were inching carefully closer through the undergrowth toward the Cyclone fence topped with razor wire that denoted the perimeter of the facility. They made careful reconnaissance of the four guards who were casually on duty. Two of them were watching small vid players that carried the ceremony underway at Candlestick Park.