by Tim Andersen
As I surveyed the shelter surroundings, I came to the sudden realization that I had no idea what to do now. I knew that staying in the shelter and doing nothing was not an option but, if I left it, I would be at the Troll-bots’ mercy. I doubt they would let me out anyway.
I found an empty cot at the end of a long row and lay down on it. Technically, I had had a full night’s sleep. However, sleeping on the cold ground in a hypothermic state of torpor was not exactly a restful night, and I was exhausted. I pulled a thin blanket over me and, resting my head on the lumpy pillow, fell asleep almost at once.
I was back on the riverbank. Someone was trying to get me up. “Lemme sleep, Lika,” I murmured.
“Who’s Lika?” said the warden, looking disapproving.
I woke with a start and looked around. The shelter was empty of people. There was nothing there but some stacked up cots and chairs. “What happened?” I said.
“All clear, son,” she said.
“Oh,” I said, stretching, not really understanding. Then a thought occurred to me. “All clear? As in, the attack is over?”
“We’ve stopped them for now,” she said, as I sat up. “But they’ll be back. You can be sure of that, so make sure you get to a shelter if you hear the sirens. Your mobile ought to go off too.”
My mobile had been destroyed in the river so I was thankful that there would be a siren. I stood up. “Ah, well, thanks,” I said, standing.
“Off you go then,” she said, picking up my cot and stacking it on top of some others.
I glanced over at Trexel’s makeshift office, but the curtain was pulled back now, and there was nobody there. His equipment was gone too.
I stopped by my office to see if Lika was there. She was not, and there was no evidence that she had returned there. Trexel had probably checked already anyway. I decided that she knew better than to return to the Fenn Building and risk meeting him.
The office was the same as before when all this had started. There were some old fashioned paper books on the shelves about alien languages that I had not seen before, including one titled Practical Alien Communication by Vanchar Fenn, something he had written in his twilight years. I picked it up and, flipping open to the back, saw a picture of his smiling face. In fact, it was an informal photo my mother had once taken at the American Museum of Natural History in front of a Troll’s skeleton. The publishers had actually cropped me, aged four, out of it, but you could still see the tip of my foot on his right side. I decided to take the book with me. I had never read it, and I figured I might be stuck in another shelter later on and need something to read.
When I stepped outside, I found that it was mid-afternoon. The air still smelled of smoke. I decided that, with nothing better to do and no idea how to find Lika, I would go home and fix myself a late lunch. I could not plan my next move on an empty stomach, and most of the restaurants seemed to be closed or horribly crowded with people sipping beers or coffees and talking about the attack.
As I walked down the street to the Metro, I tried to discern what had changed since the attack. There was no damage to the buildings around here, and, if it were not for the smell, I would not have been able to tell that anything was different. People were going about their business looking weary. Oddly, everyone seemed to be giving everyone else reassuring looks and smiles. Usually, people in the city ignored each other, but the alien incursion had given them a sense of unity or a need for support from fellow human beings. The other unusual things were the soldiers on almost every corner shouldering their massive plasma disruptors, grenades strung across their chests. I think they reassured most people, but to me they were a reminder that my world was in danger.
When I stepped onto the escalator for the Metro, the smell of unwashed bodies hit me. Trexel had said that they had been using the Metro for shelters, and the filters were working overtime removing the odor. I could see the remnants of the force membrane they had covered the entrance with. Reaching the platform, all the people who had taken refuge there were gone, but piles of garbage and stacks of cots and supplies attested to hundreds or thousands having been there for most of the night and day. Still, the capsules were up and running, and I got aboard one for home.
I was lucky that I lived in suburban Maryland instead of Northern Virginia. As the capsule exited the underground and ran on a surface track, I could see the pall of smoke rising to the South. I had lived a good portion of my life in Arlington while my mother served, and she still owned a house there. It was too rich for me on my entry-level government salary.
My capsule dropped me off not too far from my apartment. (It varied from day to day how close it could get. Home delivery from the Metro was new.) I punched in the entry code and stepped into the cool, dark interior of my home. I flipped on the lights, and my reflection in the mirror opposite the door greeted me.
I was a comical sight, dressed like a monk. I still had not changed clothes. Well, I thought, as I disrobed (literally) the robe might make a splash at Halloween parties. I carefully hung it up in the closet along with Trexel’s weapon. I put the book down on the coffee table.
With no chairs except two bar stools and a beanbag, I decided that, since the boots were rather snug, I would go sit down in the bedroom (the only other room) to take them off. The bedroom was dark, the curtains closed. I had remembered leaving them open vaguely, but I had left in such a rush that morning (seemingly so long ago) that I could not remember. I flipped on the light.
Sitting down on the bed, I noticed the closet door was only slightly ajar. I thought I had left it wide open yesterday morning as I had scurried to find clothes. This was beginning to irk me, and I wondered if Trexel had searched my apartment. I would not have put it past him to do that, but my recent experience with him told me that he would not have left such obvious clues.
I got the boots off and, cautiously, walked past the closet, pretending I was going into the main room. When I was sure I was not visible from the slight opening in the closet door, I reached a hand out and yanked open the door.
One of my suitcases fell down from the top shelf, banging my shin on its way down. As I hopped around in pain, I saw that no one was there. I breathed a grimacing sigh of relief.
Then from behind me. “Goshan, do you always get naked the moment you come home?”
Chapter 7 – The Ambush
I tried to whirl around on one foot and fell to the floor with a crash. Lika bent down over me. “Sorry,” she said, helping me up.
“Lika?” I said.
“In the flesh,” she said, “or maybe that should be you.”
I hastily grabbed a shirt from the closet and covered myself. There were times I would not have minded Lika seeing me nude. This was not one of them. “Out, out,” I said, gesturing to the door to the living room.
“Okay, okay,” she said, walking out and closing the door.
I dressed and emerged to find her poking through my refrigerator. “My God, Goshan, how old is this?” she said, pulling out some leftovers, sniffing them, and tossing them without further comment into the recycler.
“The good stuff’s in the inert box,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, opening the top part of the fridge where there was a small airlock. She stuck her hands into the stretchy gloves and moved some salad greens into it. Pressing the button, the airlock hissed as argon gas flowed out and air flowed in, and then the outer door opened.
She gestured to the range. “You cook?” she said.
“Yes,” I said, questions burning, “but what are you doing here? How did you get in?”
She ignored me. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never even heard of a bachelor who has a range. How do you turn it on?” She fiddled with the switches.
“Let me,” I said, afraid she was going to burn herself as she waved her hands over the elements. “It’s my hobby,” I said quickly. “Now answer my questions.”
“Oh,” she said, staring curiously as I took a pan out, sprayed on oil, and start
ed to cook some sausages. She picked up the salad greens and started putting it into bowls. “I don’t know. One minute I was in the Abbey with you, and the next I was here.”
“Why didn’t you get to a shelter?” I asked.
“No need. My mobile said I was outside the sheltered zone. It told me to stay inside. I did.”
“I’m surprised,” I said.
“I also didn’t want to get locked out. Your door’s really aggressive. It wouldn’t let me leave it open, and I couldn’t find your code anywhere.” My door was designed to close and lock under almost any circumstances, even pushing away anything blocking it with a robotic arm.
“I have it memorized. We have a lot of security features,” I said. “We have break-ins sometimes.”
“Break-ins? What is this? The Middle Ages? Who has break-ins anymore?”
“We do,” I said, flipping the sausages. “Where do you live, anyway?”
“In the District,” she said, setting the bowls on the bar. “Near the Zoo.”
“The Zoo? How can you afford that?” Only wealthy politicians and lobbyists lived anywhere in the old boundaries of the DC. The Rock Creek area--where the Zoo was--was one of the most expensive.
“Mom bought me a condo when I moved here,” she said.
“Oh,” I said, silently facing the range.
I set a jar of sauerkraut and a pot of Dijon on the bar and sat down, handing her a plate of sausages. I was famished and did not say another word until my plate was clean. Lika, on the other hand, played with the food, and I asked, “what? Don’t you like it?”
“Well, usually, I don’t eat meat,” she said.
“Oh, I see.”
She shook her head. “No, actually I ate your chips before you got here.”
“I have chips?” I said.
“I thought they tasted old,” she said. “I eat a lot of chips.” She stared at me, “anyway, I don’t want to talk about food. Where have you been? I’ve been stuck here for hours.”
I described what had happened to me, omitting my conversation with Trexel.
“Why would the Prioress have set you down in such a dangerous spot?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. The Amidans are starting to remind me of something Shakespeare said. You know, about boys and gods.” Never able to resist looking something up, I reached for my bound copy of Shakespeare. “Here it is, King Lear, Act 4, Scene 1: ‘As flies to wanton boys are we to th’ gods/They kill us for their sport.’”
Lika looked at me blankly. “A bit of a downer isn’t it?”
“Maybe they are toying with us,” I said.
“No, Goshan, you’re toying with me,” she said, jumping out of the stool. “Stop quoting Shakespeare. We have work to do.”
“You still want to negotiate with the Trolls?” I said.
“That’s why we came back,” she said.
“Lika, we’re trainees. The government’s got people with years of experience working for it. Shouldn’t we leave it to them?”
“Goshan, you’ve only been with us a couple of days so you don’t have all the facts. The rest of this department, they’re all idiots. They’re still using the same protocols your granddaddy invented forty years ago. If the Amidans hadn’t kidnapped Tolan, he’d be negotiating an end to this right now. I’m the only one who can apply his methods. I’ve got to be the one to negotiate.”
“And how do you intend to convince the government to let you do that?”
“Your mom is running this show. Call her. Explain to her that she needs me.”
“Ha! Even if I wanted to, I don’t know that I could contact her. She could be on Mars or another system. In any case, she’s the Minister of Defense. We need to go through the Minister of State, who hates my mom, or the Prime Minister, who would probably fire my mom for even suggesting it.”
“Goshan, you’re not being helpful. Please, we’ve got to think of a way. You know as well as I do that time is running out. Every day that the negotiators fail gets us closer to the Prime Minister pushing the button. After that we’ll all be dead.”
“You don’t know that,” I said.
“Can you honestly say that you would rather we destroy an entire race hoping that we’ll obliterate them soundly enough that they can’t fight back?”
“Of course I don’t want it to happen, but you don’t know that the negotiations will fail.”
“Look Goshan, your grandfather was the one who negotiated the cease-fire before. Wasn’t he a special person? Can you say to me that there is anyone in the Corps remotely as good as him except for Tolan?”
“You are not Smith,” I said.
“But I’m the next best thing. And I’ve got to try. If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who can.” She made for the door.
“Alright, alright,” I said, “let’s just think a minute before we split up again.”
“You’ll help me?” She said, turning.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, “okay, what? You want me to try and call my mom?”
She nodded.
“Here goes,” I said, reaching for my telepresence monitor.
I was hoping that nobody would answer. That would give me an easy way out. I had my mother’s personal, ultra-secret number, but it had been a long time since I had spoken with her. I could not remember ever calling her at work.
A receptionist program answered, “Office of the Minister of Defense.”
“Uh, yes, hello,” I said. The face on the screen was that of a smiling, young, blonde woman, but I knew that it was a facsimile, sneeringly referred to as a SYB (smiling, young, and blonde). I was talking to a computer. “I’d like to speak to the Minister.”
“May I ask who’s calling?” the SYB said. It probably already knew but was polite enough to ask.
“Goshan Fenn, her son.”
“One moment,” it said, and the screen was replaced by a slide show of military propaganda photos accompanied by some stirring and martial music. I think this was standard for all the military telepresence monitors as a way of encouraging people to sign up while they were on hold.
I waited with a mixture of anxiety and hope. I would have dearly liked to see my mom’s face at that moment, but, at the same time, I dreaded having to ask her to help us.
The SYB’s face reappeared. “The Minister is not in right now. Would you like to leave a message?”
I breathed. “Oh, just let her know that—that I called. Thanks. Bye.”
The program hung up, and I turned to Lika. “You see,” I said. “She’s too busy to talk to m—“
The telepresence monitor started to ring. Usually it said who was calling, but this time it was blank. I pressed the answer button, and a uniformed officer’s face appeared. This man had a lot of ribbons. “Goshan Fenn?” he said.
“Yes,” I said.
“Admiral Askari,” he said.
“Uh, uh, yes, of course, Admiral---” I had met the Admiral before. He was a family friend but not one I knew well.
“Your mother asked me to call you. I’m having some people pick you up.”
“P-people?”
“Yes, you are at your apartment, aren’t you?”
“Yes, uh, yeah,” I said. I nearly said “sir”.
“Be ready in five minutes,” he said. “The Minister wants to see you.” He glanced over my shoulder. “Your girlfriend can come too.”
He hung up. I turned around and Lika was standing behind me where she would have been clearly visible to the Admiral. “Girlfriend?” she said.
I laughed nervously. “I’m sure you can set him straight,” I said.
“Hmmm,” she said, “maybe. . .”
I wondered where they were going to take us as I thought about how to get ready. I decided to be safe and pack a backpack with a change of clothes and some food. I wanted to take my grandfather’s book with me too. When I reached up in the closet to get it, Trexel’s gun came tumbling down. It hit the hard floor, and I half expected it to explode,
but it just lay there.
“Goshan, is that a gun?” Lika said, picking it up.
“Oh, yeah,” I said. I had not told her about Trexel so I had left the gun out of my story. “It-it’s mine.”
“Where did you get it?” she asked. Guns were illegal anywhere in the capital area.
“Um, the-the soldiers who rescued me gave it to me,” I lied. “I guess they forgot to take it back.”
She hefted it. “Well, I hope you remember to give it back soon. You could get arrested walking around with one of these.”
She handed me the gun and disappeared into the bedroom to get some toiletries from the bathroom in there. Quickly, I put the weapon in a hidden compartment at the bottom of the backpack. I packed the book too.
The doorbell rang.
I opened the door. For some reason, because the Admiral had called, I thought they would be members of the Spaceforces. However, the Admiral was, right now, the Chairman of All Forces and so it was his prerogative to give orders to any uniformed service member. These two were dressed as Earth Guard Forces like those who had rescued me. They carried small plasma disruptors and some body armor but were not armed to the teeth like those guarding the city. One introduced herself as Lieutenant Colonel Friedman and the other, a man, as Sergeant Duncan, members of headquarters staff. They had a car waiting.
They sat in the front seat while we climbed into the back.
As the Sergeant drove (something I had never seen anyone do), Friedman leaned over the back of her seat. “So you’re Minister Fenn’s son?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said.
She just stared at me for a moment as if she did not believe me. She turned to Lika. “Is he really?”