by Wesley Chu
Wilks’ entire body was shaking. A veteran of both Vietnam and Korea, he didn’t scare easily, so he had to be in a lot of pain. “You’re part of these shenanigans?” he demanded. “I should have figured.”
Marco picked the large man up by the waist and started to half-carry and half-drag him as if he were a piece of luggage. “We’re still on for golf, right?”
“I’ll pay for the beer if we survive,” Wilks grinned.
Jill rolled her eyes. They got off the main streets and navigated through the smaller ones leading out of the city. The night was eerily loud for the capital at two in the morning. The center of the city, where the government buildings were located, had very little night life surrounding it. Usually, everything inside 495 shut down early, leaving the Hill a semi-ghost town. Tonight, though, felt more like the Fourth of July. She could hear continuous pops in the distance, followed by low rumbles that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than low-grade incendiaries. The capital was a battle zone tonight.
“We need to find a place to hole up outside of Capital Beltway,” Marco was saying, snapping her back to reality.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Have you spoken with Paula?”
“She’s out trying to bring people in,” he replied. “We’re stretched thin enough as it is and getting massacred out here. Last count was seventy confirmed casualties. The rest we aren’t sure about.”
Seventy. That is twenty percent of our influence in the government. That means we just lost the United States.
Jill stopped dead in her tracks. The States were lost. How could this happen? She stared in stunned silence at the lone flag waving in the night sky next to a government building. The Genjix controlled the United States now.
Marco turned around and snapped his fingers in front of her face. “We have to move. There are more Genjix teams filtering in by the second. Paula is working on establishing a rendezvous point. Until then, we need to stay low and out of danger.”
“What about Command operations?” she asked.
He shook his head. “The first place attacked.”
Jill gasped. “The Keeper?”
Marco exhaled, the usual twinkle in his eye gone. “She left for European Command last week. Paula was able to take the helm and fight off the first Genjix wave, and then they escaped through the manufacturing district. I’m waiting for confirmation on a rally point. The existing safe houses here are all considered compromised.”
“We have nowhere to hide?” Jill said. “Wilks can’t stay on his feet much longer.”
Marco shook his head. “We’re in a bad state. Without a place to regroup to and Penetra scanners everywhere, we’re sitting ducks. We need to avoid all major cities for a few days until Paula figures things out. Unfortunately, that’s where all our safe houses are.”
“Wait,” Jill said quickly. “I know a place. Can you get a word out to Paula and the rest of our people?” He nodded. “Good,” she picked up her pace. “I guess my good for nothing husband is good for something after all.”
THIRTY-SIX
THE FALL
There were others like me who wandered the land, searching for greatness. While most were unsuccessful – finding the special humans who have the power to change history was as difficult as finding Quasing during the Gathering – a few were successful, though sometimes with unexpected results. Huchel and Camr succeeded with King Solomon and Hammurabi. With Alexander the Great, Cualm showed us what could happened if we lost control of a host with unbridled ambition. Both Zoras’ hosts, Nero and Caesar, were cases where the Quasing lost control as well.
Tao
The trip around the South China Sea at the freighter’s snail-paced twenty knots became a mini-vacation of sorts. Though Roen had paid enough to get them all housed at the Ritz Carlton for a year, they were given cargo containers down in the hold as apartments. It seemed that in the distant past, Dylan had indeed dated Manny’s niece, and the two men had once been close and dabbled in cockfighting together. Now, Manny’s niece was a nun and Dylan was on Manny’s permanent shit-list. However, Dylan had saved Manny’s life more than once from bad wagers in the arena, so the old captain put up with him.
Roen and his men spent much of their days practicing their golf swings on the makeshift driving range at the aft starboard side. This was the first real downtime the team had had since they arrived in Taiwan, and the men’s individual talents were coming out of the woodwork. Jim had been an opera major and a pretty decent baritone, Ray had once been a semi-pro figure skater, Grant had graduated from culinary school, Faust had made it to day four of one of the World Series of Poker tournaments, Hutch was a Golden Gloves amateur champion, and one would never guess, but skinny Stan could drive the golf ball nearly three hundred meters. Roen had no idea why Stan bothered being a Prophus agent. If Roen had that kind of skill, he’d ditch Tao and join the PGA in a heartbeat.
Thank you for the loyalty and support.
“I’ve seen the chicks pro golfers nab. You still owe me a Brazilian lingerie model.”
When not working on their golf swings and swilling lambanog, a liquor brewed in the engine room, the team passed the time sparring. Their friendly fights became so popular that it soon became the ship’s main attraction. Grant had to make a fight schedule to accommodate the crew and even set up a relatively complicated system for them to bet on. Within two days, the team was able to amass a tidy enough sum to pay for all the lambanog they could drink.
What also impressed Roen during these sparring sessions was the skill his men had in hand-to-hand combat. These weren’t the green grunts that he had encountered guarding doors at Command. These were the best shock troops the Prophus had to offer. Roen wasn’t about to admit that any of these guys were better than him, and all the betting odds backed his confidence, but all of them had at one point given him a run for his money. There were quite a few upsets during the fights, from Ray with his flashy dance-like moves to Stan’s old-school Chinese Hong Fist to Grant’s “I’m impervious to pain” Neanderthal beat-down. It wasn’t pretty, and he ate punches by the bunch, but once Grant got his paws on him, it was pretty much over. Now Roen knew why the rest of the guys called him Zangief. Hutch, on the other hand, gave him the most problems with his boxing. His odds against Roen were nearly one-to-one.
Their Pacific cruise finished its leg in Manila on the second day and reached Macau on the fourth. They spent two days in port, loading new cargo before chugging back toward Taiwan leisurely. The sun was out, and there was a gentle breeze coming in from the west making the weather perfect for just lounging and drinking copious amounts of alcohol. All in all, this was the best and only vacation Roen had had in years.
And you needed it, Negative Nancy.
“All work and no play...”
And as karma would have it, just as the going got good, bad news had to rain down on their parade. They were a day out from Taiwan when disturbing information from the States came across the Prophus sub-channel. Roen and Hutch were playing tetherball with a punctured soccer ball when Stan came sprinting out onto the deck.
“We’re all needed in the communication room,” he gasped, breathing so hard he barely got the words out.
Roen looked down at his watch. “I’m not on radio duty for another thirty minutes.”
“We’ve just lost the government!” Stan said.
Roen looked puzzled. “What happened to the Keeper?”
“No, the United States!”
This cannot be true!
Roen only thought of Jill as he rushed to the tower, followed closely by the rest of his team. According to bits and pieces from scattered Prophus reports, Washington DC had fallen to the Genjix. The team huddled around the communication array, hitting every back channel they could find. Nine hours later, the Keeper had verified their worst fears. The capital of the United States had fallen to a brazen military coup, and the Genjix were now in firm control of the country.
Roen spent those hours h
uddled in a ball next to the radio. Some of the information was conflicting, and he didn't know what to believe. It trickled in slowly and in bits, and it only got worse. Senator Thompson was missing. Secretary of Defense Jayloh, Director Sun of the FBI, and Representative Forbeck, a respected nine-term congressman, were all confirmed dead alongside their Quasing. Federal appellate Judge Cole, Secretary Kowal of the Department of Education, and Vice Admiral Andrews were only a few of the growing list of important Prophus figures missing. The number of dead Prophus operatives climbed higher and higher. Initial estimates were fourteen, then forty, and then over a hundred. One bit of data stood out to him though. Senator Wilks had been shot and presumed dead. Scenes of Jill facing a hit squad of Genjix assassins played over and over in his head. His face drained of all color as he clutched his knees, listening for any piece of news that would prove his worst fears false.
I cannot believe they can be so brazen as to risk such an attack.
This was a coordinated attack, one inconceivable a few short years ago. For the Genjix to risk this sort of exposure and cause this kind of public upheaval was beyond any Quasing’s understanding. This went against strict Quasing doctrine both sides had followed for thousands of years.
What the hell are those assholes doing?
Tao kept muttering that phrase over and over. It worried Roen to hear him say that. Tao was incensed to the point of being incoherent. Usually nothing rattled him. This was the alien who had conquered half the world several times.
Are they insane?
During those hours, Tao had retreated into a shell, staying silent for the most part save for a few random angry outbursts. Finally, during the tenth hour into their vigil around the radio, Tao made a disturbing proclamation.
We have lost.
Roen, dozing against the table, snapped his head up, suddenly alert and attentive. He glared at the others huddled in the room in various states of consciousness and snapped. “Who said that?” He climbed to his feet, nostrils flaring. “Which one of you said we’ve lost?” The other guys looked up at him with dull, blank stares.
“No one, Roen,” Ray said. “It must be Tao.”
“Tao would never...” Roen snarled and then stopped.
“Tao, did you say we lost?”
The war is over. Without the United States, the Prophus have lost.
“Come on, that’s bullshit. We’re not giving up.”
There is no longer a path to victory. Without support from a superpower in this world, we have no choice but to capitulate to the Genjix. It will save lives in the long run. We should advise the Keeper to consider the inevitable. Had we kept at least one superpower neutral, we might have been able to hold off the Genjix until we found a long-term solution, but with both China and the United States actively working against us, the war is lost.
Roen suddenly couldn’t breathe. He stormed out of the communication room and barreled past several startled crewman. He sprinted up the stairs and burst out onto the deck. He inhaled the cool night ocean air, taking in the salt and water as he stalked toward the bow of the ship. Between Tao’s shocking concession and his fear that Jill was dead, he couldn't take it anymore.
Roen leaned over the railing and screamed as loud and as long as he could. All he could think about was how he was half a world away from Jill. He should have been by her side. He should have been there to protect her! He rounded on the nearest inanimate victim, which happened to be a rusty ventilation shaft jutting up from the deck, and punched it as hard as he could. He followed up with another punch and then a kick that rang the round tube like a dull church bell.
“Ow.”
Careful. You might need that foot still. We could be on the run for a long time.
Roen was pretty sure his hand wasn’t broken, but he couldn’t say the same of his foot. If he had hurt the ventilation shaft, it didn’t show it. That shaft was a lot sturdier than it looked. Instead, Roen turned his back to it and sat down, leaning on it for support. He rubbed his injured hands and foot as his mind raced. Was Jill lying dead in her office? Maybe in a ditch? Had she been executed by the Genjix? Every thought tore out a little piece of him. Lin’s words echoed again in his head. His wife was probably dead, and he could be soon as well. His son would be an orphan. He should have been there! Roen slammed his fist into the deck.
Get ahold of yourself.
“This is your fault, Tao! I should have been by her side!”
There was a long pause.
You are right. I am sorry, Roen. When this is over, we will find Jill. I promise you. You have done enough for the Prophus. It is time we put your loved ones first.
Roen leaned against the railing. “You mean it?”
I do. Finish this mission, and we will catch the next plane out.
Then Roen saw a smattering of lights in the distance. The lights multiplied and grew larger and larger. A minute later, the outline of the city came into view.
We have reached the southern port of Kaohsiung. Get the men inside the container.
Roen didn’t move. His eyes followed the blinking lights as they got closer and closer. “What’s the point if it's all over?”
Until told otherwise, we still have a mission to carry out. And even if the war is lost, it is not like we can back out now. Prepare for infiltration.
THIRTY-SEVEN
EX-EXTINCTION
The eve of humanity’s evolution is coming to a close. Like the early primates that we sacrificed when we deemed their evolutionary worth was at usefulness’ end, so too are humans.
With that, the vessels who serve will continue on in another form. Those who do not will cease. Once Quasiform completes, it will only be the Quasing who will remain. And thus, the destiny of Earth will be fulfilled.
Zoras
Enzo scanned the black and green specks of the forest interior, searching for signs of movement. Somewhere in there, the enemy lay in wait. Last night’s razed eastern tree lines still glowed angry red, drifting thick black smoke into the otherwise pure blue air. After the disaster at the Prophus camp, the lines had once again been redrawn.
The Genjix had taken heavy losses and were no longer able to maintain the heavy escorts, base defenses, and widened perimeters. One of his tactical advantages had to go, so Enzo was now blind again in the forests and unable to go on the offensive. The Prophus had again pushed all the way to the edge of the forest. Yesterday, while his construction crews were working on the runway, the Prophus had attacked, massacring thirty.
The news coming in from America was much better. The United States government was now theirs, free of Prophus influence. The results of the cleansing had thrown the government into disarray. It would take months for their public relations arm to cover up the incident and calm the government. For now, the Genjix pushed the conspiracy of Middle Eastern terrorist attacks. Others thought it a military coup. Even more thought it was a religious fundamentalist rebellion.
Those fools could think what they wanted. As long as their attention was elsewhere, Enzo did not care. The situation would blow over in a few months, and by then the Genjix would have free rein over the country without the meddling Prophus getting in their way. It was a good trade off.
The Genjix Council had also finally come around. With the Genjix’s control of the United States assured, the ProGenesis project nearing completion, and his continuing successful defense of the camp, they had no choice but to offer him full status on the Council. When it was brought up during the last meeting, only Vinnick opposed his standing.
Well, Enzo planned to take care of the Russian billionaire soon after his business at the camp was complete. In fact, he considered neutralizing the old man’s power an important matter. The primary facilities for Phase III were based within Vinnick’s sphere of influence. With the ProGenesis near completion, all Genjix initiatives would shift toward Quasiform. Whoever controlled Quasiform controlled the Council. If Enzo was not careful, Vinnick could steal the project from underneath him.
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Your ambitions are admirable. However, do not forget your goal or who you serve.
“I serve you and the Genjix, Zoras.”
As long as you serve our purpose. Power struggles are encouraged among the Genjix. It keeps the vessels strong and hungry, but do not overstep. You walked when you should be crawling. And now you want to run.
Palos walked up and bowed. “Chow is reporting in, Father.”
Enzo nodded without tearing his eyes away from the trees. This wasn’t their scheduled meeting. He must have good news, for there was little reason to report his continuing failure. Enzo trotted to the main building with Palos in tow.
He spared his first a regretful look. After their time in Tibet was over, he would have to release Palos from his duty as his personal guard and assign him to another role. Being a bodyguard was beneath a vessel. Of course Enzo would keep him under his command, but it would not be the same. He had become accustomed to Palos; it would be difficult to replace him.
He walked into the war room and saw Chow’s face already on the screen. He was sweating like a pig on a spit. He was excited though, moving about animatedly and shouting at his assistants off-screen. Enzo sat down and coughed. Chow gave a start and then began talking so fast Enzo couldn’t understand what he was saying. The only words he could make out were “three days” and “still alive”. As far as he was concerned, those were all the words he needed to hear.
He put up a hand to shut Chow up. “Are you saying ProGenesis is a success?”
Chow nodded so fast that he thought the man’s neck might snap. “Yes, Father. Three days. Tested among all six of our prisoners. All still alive.”
Has one of ours survived?
Enzo kept his rising excitement inside. There would be no celebration until everything was confirmed. “Have you done final verification?”
“I have not.” Chow replied. “That is what I’m calling you for. I need permission to do that.”