by Barry Kirwan
"It’s Vince… Get me the Secretary of State... You heard me… Yes, now… Well, interrupt him."
While they waited, Micah felt another presence in the room. He knew it was in his head, but it didn’t matter. Maybe somewhere he’d at last gotten his father’s attention and approval. It was ironic, just as apocalypse was approaching, he felt for the first time he knew who he was, and that his life was coming together. Better late than never.
"Yes Mr. Secretary, good evening... Yes, I realize that, Sir... I completely understand, Mr. Secretary. It is indeed, Sir, an urgent matter of national security…" he glanced at Micah. "In fact, Sir, we’re talking global security…"
It was midnight by the time they arrived at the NLA Tech lab. Three sullen-looking technicians awaited their arrival. Micah now understood why he and Sandy had been given the uniforms. If they’d been civilians, cooperation would have been anything but civil. Instead, Micah found he could simply give orders, and the techs complied, albeit with mutterings trailing after them. Luckily, Professor Partridge, the Head NLA analyst, was on leave, since he knew Micah and would have blown his cover. As it was, the technicians, once they started following his orders, began to be more than a little curious about how a Chorazin agent knew so much about an Optron.
Vince returned. "Are we ready?"
Micah played the role. "Yes, Sir!"
"Ok, everybody non-Chorazin out. Now."
There were half-hearted complaints and warnings about this not being a toy, etc., but Micah reckoned they wanted out as soon as possible anyway.
Vince turned to Micah. "Your jacket is en route."
Micah nodded. "What are we waiting for now?"
"We’re bringing someone in. You are going to link with him so that he sees what you saw."
Micah’s eyes widened. "Wait a minute. You can’t do that! Is he an analyst? If not it could fry his brain!"
But even as they spoke, two Chorazin agents bustled in, pushing past Sandy, dragging a handcuffed, hooded man. They deposited him on a chair and pulled the hood off. He was gagged and unconscious. Micah recognized him. His mouth dropped open.
"Good God! That’s Senator Josefsson! Vince, you’re out of your mind!"
"Perhaps," Vince said, his composure unruffled. "But this senatorial sonofabitch has stirred up a real hornet’s nest, and if what you told me is true, we have to try and get people’s attention, so they understand what’s really going on."
"I won’t do it. It would be the equivalent of torture!"
Vince moved very close to Micah’s face. "Listen to me carefully, Micah. He knows who kidnapped him. If you don’t convince him, then either we let him go and we’ll be arrested for treason shortly afterwards, or I kill him. Which option do you prefer?"
He couldn’t believe he’d been manipulated again by Vince. His intense unease about using an Optron on a civilian – a Senator, no less – alchemised into anger. "You set me up! You knew I’d have no choice, you bastard."
"Your choice of words is a little rich, coming from someone who’s only just re-discovered his father."
Before he realized he was even doing it, Micah threw a punch at Vince, but Vince caught it inches from his own face, not even flinching in the process. He spoke quietly in Micah’s face, while Micah’s chest heaved. "We’re wasting time. You told me an invasion is coming. The world is defenseless and not even aware of the danger because we have no credible mouthpiece. Now, either you were bull-shitting me, or else the ends certainly justify the means. Your Dad was a fucking hero, not a comic book one, a real one who got the job done by doing what mattered. Now I can’t make you do this. So you decide what type of man you are."
Micah’s nostrils flared, he pulled back his fist. In his mind, his father stood behind Vince, waiting to see what he would do. Would he run away, or see it through. Micah faced off Vince for ten seconds then glanced over to Sandy. She nodded to him, biting her lower lip. He walked over to the Senator.
"Can we at least untie him and wake him? I need to ask him some medical questions in any case."
"No. We untie him afterward. Make your best medical guesses. Get on with it."
Micah managed to make the link, so Josefsson saw, or rather, experienced the downloaded scenes from the Ulysses, including the strange transmission from somewhere else – Eden, and another planet conquered by the Q’Roth, he guessed. Luckily Josefsson was a wily politician – it meant his intellectual faculties were resilient enough to withstand the process. They woke him up and untied him. He was helped off the Optron chair into a seat facing Vince. He came back to his senses with a vengeance.
"Vince! You motherfucking asshole! You did this to me! I’ll see to it that they throw away the key and leave you to rot in some shit-hole cell in Salvador."
"Undoubtedly, Senator, but first, there is the matter of world security."
Sandy fetched the Senator a glass of water. He drank greedily, not caring that half of it spilled down his tux. He slammed down the glass afterward, cracking it. You mean that 'show’ I just witnessed? What sort of brainwashing techniques have you people been cooking up, eh?"
Micah moved between Josefsson and Vince. "Sir, it’s no hoax or show. What you saw happened. And the fate of that planet is the fate of Earth unless we act quickly."
Josefsson snorted. But as he downed a second glass refilled by Sandy, Micah could tell that although he was trying to deny it, it was sinking in. The Optron after all fed impulses straight into the cortex – no mediation – it was direct, untarnished communication. It had the ring of truth.
Micah continued. "Senator, Sir, these ships popping up all over the planet – they’re programmed to go to Eden. When people get there they’ll be slaughtered. Then the aliens will come here and finish the job. They’ll harvest the human race."
Vince took up the lead. "And you, Sir, have been pushing people into those ships. The first is already missing, but in the past twelve hours a further fifteen ships have been discovered around the globe, and they keep finding more. Terribly convenient, isn’t it?"
Josefsson pursed his lips, his bushy eyebrows meshing above bleary eyes.
Vince drove onward. "There is also a conspiracy on Earth – the Alicians are involved. Probably not all of them, but the aliens couldn’t do all this on their own. And Louise – my assistant you met yesterday – she was one of those conspirators. She was killed earlier today. The preliminary examination of her corpse revealed genetic alteration beyond anything our scientists can manage." He pushed her med-pad across the table.
The revelation about Louise clearly had an effect. Still, his anger was evident. "What the hell exactly is it you want of me?"
Vince nodded to Sandy, who had been primed for this moment.
"Senator Josefsson. You’ve already spoken to the people once. Speak again. Tell them of the danger. And explain to the President – and to IVS – what they are up against. And even call on the Fundie leaders."
Josefsson squeezed his large hand around the empty glass. "But even if I do what you say, there’s no proof. You can’t link the whole nation up to that God-damned machine! A pronouncement like that will ruin me, and we’ll probably fail in the process."
"But Sir, so many of the people trust you," Sandy said, holding eye contact, "like I do. You speak to the people, for the people. And if they do listen, then you will be the one that saved humanity from a disaster of biblical proportions."
It moved more smoothly from that point. Thirty minutes later the Senator was en route back to his office, scheduled for a network-wide announcement at 08:00, followed by a meeting with the President.
Vince, Sandy and Micah headed back to Chorazin HQ, where they could get some sleep. Micah had finally got his Dad’s jacket back. The ice between him and Vince had thawed, but only a little.
"Do you think he’ll do it?" Micah asked.
"Oh, yes, he’ll do it. But the question is whether he was right about not being listened to. And even if he is, will it be fast enough to preve
nt a substantial exodus?"
Micah winced. Vince needed to know the whole content of the message.
"Vince," he said reluctantly, "there was something mathematical in the transmission."
"Mathematical? An equation?"
"Exactly. Or more like a geometric plane, but one I recognized immediately from my math theory. Only a mathematics-trained person would see it, or its relevance."
"You’re being obscure, Micah. What was the message?"
"I believe it was from the alien race, or their messenger. It was an exponential expression."
Sandy spoke up. "Micah, we’re all tired. Speak English, please."
"Okay. Well, we think in linear terms, when we think of time."
"Please, Micah, no Einstein at 2am!" Sandy implored.
"No – don’t worry. It’s just that nature itself often works in logarithms, exponential – that is, accelerating – events. Think of a baby for example – oops – well, anyway, the rate of cell growth is exponential, otherwise how could a single ovum and sperm produce anything in nine months."
Vince sighed. "Your point, Micah?"
"The point is that these ships have been here for a very long time. Alicians have been steering us toward this point. The rate of convenient discoveries themselves has been increasing, including the rather obvious one yesterday that miraculously allowed scientists to locate these ships. Everything is accelerating towards the end. The equation is represented by a theory known as catastrophe theory, with a definable end point."
"The end being invasion," Vince said.
"But we’ve got a chance now, don’t we?" said Sandy. "Tomorrow, or rather later today, the Senator will go public, and –"
Vince broke in, his eyes set. "Micah’s right, Sandy. Even if Josefsson does a perfect job, the political process will be slow. And we’re still not sure we can defend against an invasion force if it comes. You said it was mathematical. That means you could use the equation to predict how long we’ve got."
Micah leant back against the wall of the Chorazin vehicle. "I was afraid you were going to ask that. Yes, that’s why the transmission held the equation. Whoever or whatever sent it understands the planning, the timing of the planned Q’Roth incursion. It wants us to be able to react before it’s too late. So I’ve been plugging events into the equation, doing a rough calculation in my head. The booster helped, as I can visualize more clearly the slope of the catastrophe curve we’re riding, so to speak."
"How many weeks do we have left, Micah?"
"Three days. Maybe less."
All three of them sat quietly for a while. It was Vince that finally spoke.
"We need a contingency plan."
"What sort?" Micah asked.
Vince spoke into his wristcom. "I want a jet to Cocos Island, fuelled and ready for three passengers when we arrive at CHQ in ten minutes."
Sandy spoke sleepily. "A last beach holiday before the invasion? Vince, you really know how to treat a girl."
Micah ignored the sarcasm. "What’s in Cocos?"
The corners of Vince’s mouth lifted a fraction. "A ship."
Chapter 39
Sabotage
Kat squatted on her haunches, watching things go from bad to worse outside the Lander. Zack kicked at a large stone with his good leg. "We can’t leave him there, Skipper", he muttered. Kat noted that Rashid faced away from them – it wasn’t his call, and he’d accept whatever decision was made.
"Well," Blake said, "just before I arrived, I believe you were asking a pertinent question, Zack."
Zack raised his eyebrows.
"Why haven’t they blasted us to ashes already? I saw thousands of eggs down there. Most of them about to hatch. I think they’ve been ignoring us so we can be bioelectric food or whatever for the first hatchlings. My guess, however, is that just recently we’ve pissed them off enough that they’ve decided to get rid of us. I am certain there are other Guardians on Eden – I can’t believe there are only two of them for a whole species. Probably a network of egg-nests all over the planet, like this one.’
Rashid pitched in, "This has also been my suspicion."
"Which means our days are numbered," Zack said.
"More like hours, old friend. We took out one of them with the ND – but that was it, we’ve nothing left that’s going to be much of a threat, especially if they have airborne ships here." He nodded to Kat and Rashid. "Prepare the ship ready to leave."
Kat waited for Zack to speak, but he said nothing. Rashid looked downward. So She seized the initiative. "What about Pierre? We can’t –"
"I’m not leaving him behind," Blake stated. "Now, get the ship ready. Move to it!"
Kat hesitated, and then drifted toward the ship’s ladder. As she reached the first step she noticed that Zack hadn’t budged. Good – Zack’ll talk some sense into him! Rashid came over to her and tried to usher her up the first rung, but she planted her feet firmly, listening.
"I won’t do it, Skipper," Zack said, quiet but deep. "Ain’t going to leave you two here to die – to be vaporized or carved up by those motherfuckers."
"Zack," Blake dropped his voice, "you know you have to go. We must get a message back home. Things are coming to a head, I can feel it. There’s not much time."
Kat strained to hear what Zack said next.
"But for him? You’ve left men behind before. It seems like there’s nothing you can do. You’re throwing your life away. Hell – ask Pierre, he’d tell you himself!"
"He already did. I can’t explain it. I’ve made my decision. There’s a chance, a slim one. And you’re right – I’ve left plenty of men behind before. I’d like to say I remember all their faces. Truth is I don’t."
Zack lifted and then pile-drove the butt of his pulse rifle into the ground.
"Then we’ll wait for you. You try and get him out. We’ll wait. Hell, I can even take off and land one more time if necessary."
"But you can’t go into orbit and come back! You need to send the message, hit the ND and get the hell out of here. That’s an order, Zack."
Zack raised his voice. "You give me just one good reason why I should follow that order. Just one. You can’t court-martial me out here, and I’m your only goddammed pilot."
Blake looked up to the sky, bit his lip, then took a step toward Zack, and whispered something in his ear. Blake moved away afterwards, but Zack stayed where he was, ear cocked, as if the words Blake had whispered still echoed inside his head. Suddenly, Zack whirled around and came up behind Kat and Rashid.
"What are you two still doing here? Captain gave an order. We’re leaving." Kat and Rashid parted leaving the ladder open as Zack limped towards it, seized the rails and heaved himself upwards, clanging the rifle on every rung. Kat glanced back at Blake, but his back was turned. Rashid again put his arm on her shoulder, and this time she climbed into the ship.
Kat found the cockpit oppressively quiet. Blake’s seat was empty, with Rashid perched at Pierre’s science console. Blake had taken an assortment of weapons and supplies outside – they could last a month at most, if he and Pierre were really careful. If Pierre wasn’t already dead. If several miracles intervened. Fuck this plan!
Blake’s voice crackled through from outside via com-link. "Okay – good luck all of you. Tell them… tell them everything."
The screen showed Blake moving away from the ship’s lift-off zone. Her stomach felt like a tightening knot. She couldn’t contain it any longer. "Zack, we can’t leave them here!"
Zack threw switches, tapped at touchpads. Low, grinding whistles slowly ascended their scales. Hydraulics hissed and clamps thudded, adding percussion to the orchestral tuning that signified the pre-flight engine warm-up.
"Zack. What did he say to you to make you leave him here?"
"Back off, Kat. Don’t push me."
But she felt like her stomach was in freefall. Blake had been her anchor throughout this mission, and she realized for the first time that she had some undefined feelings for
Pierre. She searched for something to stall Zack. She found it. It was dirty, below the belt, but once they took off, that was it. No turning back.
"What are you going to tell his wife, Zack?"
Rashid gaped at her. Zack’s hand froze above a switch. She saw his huge shoulders heave up and down several times. Suddenly Zack’s harnesses flew open and he launched himself upwards and swung around to her position. Kat hit her own harness release and was half-way up as she met Zack’s left hand. It swatted her back down and pinned her against the seat. She saw feral, white rage in Zack’s eyes, as his right hand found her throat. Yet she was defiant. Her voice croaked. "How long do you think we’re going to last without him? We haven’t even taken off yet, and we’re literally at each other’s throats. Earth has its message. The ND and the desert are as plain as Jupiter’s red dot. He needs us. They both do!" Her words choked off as she ran out of breath.
Zack’s hand eased off.
She coughed, massaging her trachea, getting some oxygen back into her lungs. As soon as she could, she continued.
"He needs you, Zack. Now more than ever." She stopped there. There was nothing more to say. She didn’t know what Zack might do next; maybe kick her off the spaceship.
Zack manoeuvred himself back into his seat. His fingers lingered on a panel above him that glowed red.
"Rashid – check your instruments. See any problems?"
Rashid called up various displays. "Oh. Yes. The solenoid is –"
"Fried. Abort take-off. Do you concur?"
Rashid nodded vigorously. "Most definitely, I concur. Take-off would be fatal, I am afraid."
Kat watched, confused, as Zack and Rashid powered everything down. She coughed. "Zack… So… we’re not taking off?"
He kept his back to her. "Not unless you want to become a human meteorite. Go outside and start setting up a defence perimeter. Rashid – you go explain to Blake we’re stuck here for at least six or seven hours. That’s how long it’ll take to fix it. I suppose it’s lucky for us it’s one of the few parts we carry a spare for.