The Inheritors of Earth

by Jerry Ahern

  “Yes we were the first,” agreed The Keeper. “But we were not the only and we were not the last. These humans, like us clawed their way from beasthood into manhood. They are capable, reasoning beings who have earned their place in their own world.”

  “A world they themselves almost destroyed.”

  “Yes, they very nearly did but it has not been destroyed. They fought for it; they struggled past their own barbarian natures.”

  The Captain shouted, “Our association with them must keep our species separated. Familiarity even friendship with them will lead to an eventual blending of the blood lines.”

  The Keeper said quietly, “Let me read you something; I believe you will find this interesting.”

  ‘There are certain truths which stand out so openly on the roadsides of life, as it were, that every passer-by may see them. Yet, because of their very obviousness, the general run of people disregard such truths or at least they do not make them the object of any conscious knowledge. People are so blind to some of the simplest facts in every-day life that they are highly surprised when somebody calls attention to what everybody ought to know.’

  ‘Walking about in the garden of Nature, most men have the self-conceit to think that they know everything; yet almost all are blind to one of the outstanding principles that Nature employs in her work. This principle may be called the inner isolation which characterizes each and every living species on this earth.’

  ‘Even a superficial glance is sufficient to show that all the innumerable forms in which the life-urge of Nature manifests itself are subject to a fundamental law—one may call it an iron law of Nature—which compels the various species to keep within the definite limits of their own life-forms when propagating and multiplying their kind. Each animal mates only with one of its own species. The titmouse cohabits only with the titmouse, the finch with the finch, the stork with the stork, the field-mouse with the field-mouse, the house-mouse with the house-mouse, the wolf with the she-wolf, etc.’

  ‘Deviations from this law take place only in exceptional circumstances. This happens especially under the compulsion of captivity, or when some other obstacle makes procreative intercourse impossible between individuals of the same species. But then Nature abhors such intercourse with all her might; and her protest is most clearly demonstrated by the fact that the hybrid is either sterile or the fecundity of its descendants is limited. In most cases hybrids and their progeny are denied the ordinary powers of resistance to disease or the natural means of defense against outer attack.’

  ‘Such a dispensation of Nature is quite logical. Every crossing between two breeds which are not quite equal results in a product which holds an intermediate place between the levels of the two parents. This means that the offspring will indeed be superior to the parent which stands in the biologically lower order of being, but not so high as the higher parent. For this reason it must eventually succumb in any struggle against the higher species. Such mating contradicts the will of Nature towards the selective improvements of life in general. The favorable preliminary to this improvement is not to mate individuals of higher and lower orders of being but rather to allow the complete triumph of the higher order. The stronger must dominate and not mate with the weaker, which would signify the sacrifice of its own higher nature. Only the born weakling can look upon this principle as cruel, and if he does so it is merely because he is of a feebler nature and narrower mind; for if such a law did not direct the process of evolution then the higher development of organic life would not be conceivable at all.’

  ‘He who would live must fight. He who does not wish to fight in this world, where permanent struggle is the law of life, has not the right to exist. Such a saying may sound hard; but, after all, that is how the matter really stands. Yet far harder is the lot of him who believes that he can overcome Nature and thus in reality insults her. Distress, misery, and disease are her rejoinders.’

  “There,” the Captain said. “That is exactly my point; the writer was pointing out our course of action. Tell us Keeper, which of our forefathers pinned those brilliant words?”

  “It was not one of ours,” the Keeper said. “It was one of theirs. These are the words of a man named Adolf Hitler that over six centuries ago plunged this planet into a world war that exterminated people because they did not fit his beliefs as to what was right and good. That is not the way of our people.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Michael’s inauguration was just hours away. The security team had made repeated electronic sweeps of the area. Multiple layers of check points had been established throughout the capital. News vans filled an entire parking lot on the north side of the Capital Building. Vehicular traffic had been rerouted except for specific dignitaries that had been arriving since the evening before. A restricted air space had been declared and military aircraft were patrolling the skies. In the waters around the island, an array of different surface ships churned, they were on constant electronic alert of anything out of the ordinary. Below the surface of the waters were submarines. Security was at the highest level in memory.

  John and Emma Rourke passed through the final layer of security when Rourke noticed someone he recognized, Sergeant Carl Haly and his dog Gibson. “Sgt Haly,” Rourke called out. Haly turned and waved and came over to them. Shaking hands with John and saluting Emma, he asked, “When is the blessed event?” Emma was definitely showing now.

  “Not for a while yet,” she answered.

  “How’s Gibson doing today?” Rourke asked.

  “He’s kinda edgy, probably just all of the festivities I guess but he’s just tense.”

  “Sgt Haly,” Rourke said. “Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “I don’t mean to pry but it seems to me you’re a little ‘long in the tooth’ to still be doing this job. What’s your story?”

  “Dr. Rourke, I’ll tell you the truth. I reported to Pearl Harbor as a salty young buck sergeant, an E-4. I wasn’t very squared away. While the duty here sounds prestigious, I thought the duty sucked. After seeing action in the field for over a year repelling sappers and the Russians on a base that got hit eleven times, humping an aircraft with a smart blaster was not a very glamorous duty.”

  “I had a Master Sergeant, named Carlington. He stood about 6’ 3” and was from the South and he still carried and ingrained Southern accent which wasn’t hard to tell after he opened his mouth and directed you to do something.”

  “The Master Sergeant sported spit-shined boots, an immaculate uniform and a perfect flat-top haircut you could have landed a jet on. Master Sergeant Carlington wasn’t someone to be trifled with either. He commanded respect and was a strict disciplinarian with his troops. It also turned out that he was a mentor to young enlisted men completing their initial four-year tour in the Air Force. If you proved yourself to the Master Sergeant, acted with integrity and were honest, if you screwed up, the Master Sergeant would back you to the hilt.”

  “Master Sergeant Carlington played a unique role in my life. The Sarge was a man I grew to admire; not all career or lifer senior enlisted men were of the caliber of Master Sergeant Carlington. Many were venial, vindictive and petty men who used their rank and privilege to make life miserable for lower ranking enlisted men who had no desire to remain in the military past their original enlistment.”

  “He, on the other hand, was the exception to the rule. As a result of his example, mentoring and tutelage, I was highly recruited by a number of civilian police departments and when I got out of the service I became a civilian cop for a while. I always will remember returning to the base in my civilian police car and rolling up to the kennel only to have Master Sergeant Carlington come out of the office, greet me with a ‘Hello Sergeant,’ a big smile and a hand shake and tell me how proud he was of my accomplishments.”

  “A few years later, Master Sergeant Carlington was killed during a training exercise, when I found out about it, I decided my
time in the service wasn’t over after all and I re-enlisted; been doing this ever since.”

  “Well, thank you for sharing the story with me,” Rourke said and Emma pulled on his sleeve for them to take their places. “You guys stay sharp today. That’s my boy that’s going to be on that stage up there.”

  “Got to be a proud moment for you, Sir.”

  “Like nothing any of us, except him, ever conceived. Best of luck, Sergeant.” Rourke and Emma were directed to the VIP seating and seated next to Wolfgang and Sarah.

  “Greetings and how are the proud parents doing this fine day?” Rourke asked.

  Sarah was beaming, “Just fine, and how are you, proud papa? Emma, you look lovely.” John and Wolf shook hands. Wolf said, “This is a most auspicious day for our two families, not to mention our two nations.”

  Frank Zimmerman, head of the Presidential Security Detail, was nervous. Zimmerman stayed nervous; it was what kept him focused, trying to plan for and anticipate what other people considered “unthinkable.” To Zimmerman it was not only thinkable, he knew it was doable. It was his responsibility to put a wall of protection around the President of the United States, POTUS for short. In his late forties, Zimmerman looked haggard. He wore his salt and pepper hair in a flat top because he couldn’t keep it combed.

  Zimmerman had twenty-seven dedicated agents, their sole purposes—protect the President, prevent any “unplanned events” and, if necessary whisk the President away to safety. His guys were the best, each one a specially trained and hand-picked professional. Expert shots and trained in hand-to-hand, they were in constant movement to detect, access and neutralize any threat or potential threat they might see.

  Their jobs complicated by having what amounted to the heads of state from every nation on the planet in one location and all at the same time. Each country had a similar contingency force dedicated to protecting their leader.

  Zimmerman, during the final shakedown briefing had told his people, “While there are no suspected problems we are concerned about, remember... There is always the potential for some ‘fifth columnist,’ terrorist or traitor to act independently if for no other reason than to grab his or her few seconds of fame as the person who was able to kill... so and so. Stay focused, stay alert and for God’s sake stay in communication. By this time tomorrow people, we will have a new President; between now and then be observant, be professional and be ready.”

  According to Section 1, Article II of the US Constitution, before the “President can enter on the execution of his office, he shall take the following oath or affirmation: ‘I do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States, and will to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.’”

  Beginning with the first inauguration of George Washington in 1789, the oath has al most always been administered by a Justice from the Supreme Court. The most notable exception being Calvin Coolidge in 1923, he was administered the oath by his father John, a Notary Public at his father’s home in Vermont. Michael Rourke had opted for the traditional method. Standing tall and handsome with Natalia by his side, Michael recited the words read by the Chief Justice and became the next in a long timeline to be called “Mr. President.”

  Zimmerman’s ear piece crackled as Michael and the Chief Justice shook hands. He kissed Natalia, smiled at his family and stepped to the microphone. Zimmerman frowned and started moving toward Michael. He gave the signal and three of his people enveloped Michael, one of the saying, “We have to go Mr. President, NOW!”

  At that moment, there was a loud explosion outside on the opposite side of the venue and small arms fire erupted outside. Immediately, a cacophony of returning fire resulted. John Thomas and Wolf Mann were standing now, following the New German security detachment, breaking through the crowd and pulling their wives behind them. The Presidential Security Teams were operating on a pre-planned evacuation scenario. Regular security personnel were directing other people to the exits.

  The energy blastripped the entire domed roof from the building, exploding it into fragments that rained down on the people inside; two hundred alone dying in that instant. Apparently, several individuals within the crowd inside were now firing energy weapons into this crowd; the death toll was going to be staggering.

  Overhead, above the city, American fighter jets were dog fighting several unusual air craft. The strange silver craft were each approximately 15ft long, not quite as wide and about 6ft high, were slightly egg-shaped and had no windows, portholes or wings. Energy beams and blasts pulsed from a variety of locations around the crafts’ rims. The American fighter planes’ smart weapons had proven totally ineffective and they had switched to their retro-fitted armament of missiles and cannon fire.

  On the ground, still inside the capital building, Zimmerman’s team and that of Wolfgang Mann secured a safe area on the basement floor and were regrouping. Their exit plan had been blocked when part of the exploding roof had crashed through the ground floor, continued slamming into the underground parking garage and crushed three armored SUVs. Zimmerman approached his new President, “Sorry about this Sir, hell of a first day on the job, isn’t it?”

  “You could say that, Frank. What’s the plan?”

  “We have to get you out of here, Sir.”

  “Apparently a heavily armed air and ground assault team is attempting to murder the assembled world leaders, you included. There is an air battle going on above us and an undetermined number of enemy agents are in the Capital Building now, engaging our people. It appears they had prepositioned a secret cache of weapons that went undiscovered during our sweeps of the building; probably had some type of electronic dampeners around them. Don’t know how yet, but that appears to be the situation. There are incoming reports that the Russian Premier has been killed along with several in his delegation. We have no contact with the Chinese delegation at all. The rest of the VIPs are cut off in the east wing and the thousands of ordinary people, both in and surrounding the auditorium are caught in the crossfire. It is going to be a bloodbath.”

  “Dad ... Dad where are you?” Michael shouted for Rourke.

  Pushing his way through people, John appeared at Michael’s side. “How bad is it?”

  Michael turned and waved Wolf over, Michael nodded to Zimmerman and said, “Give them a quick situation report, don’t leave anything out. Have we any more weapons down here?”

  Zimmerman began briefing John and Mann, fished a set of keys from his pocket and handed them to his second-in-command. “Open the armory.” The man moved to the wall, hit a switch opening a hidden panel. Seven of the smart rifles and 13 of the remodeled M-16 A-12s were produced. Michael grabbed for one of the M-16s, the security man said, “Sir, you can’t do that, that is our job.”

  Michael cleared the weapon, inserted a full magazine and jacked a round into the chamber before thumbing the safety on. “Right now, we’re all in the fight. Frank, here’s what we’re going to do. I want five men from your team and five from my step-father’s to stay here and protect my wife, mother and step-mother. The rest of us are going to punch a hole through this mess and find a new way outta here.”

  Wolf Mann and John Rourke nodded their approvals. John and Wolf were now armed with A-12’s; two of Wolf’s people had provided side arms. Rourke picked a stainless 45 and pocketed three magazines, “Not a Detonics, but right now beggars can’t be picky.”

  The three men went to where their wives stood. “Okay, ladies, here’s the deal and we don’t have time to argue,” John told them. “We are leaving ten men, five from Michael’s security team and five from Wolf’s; you are to stay here under their protection.”

  Michael held up his hand when Natalia started to protest. “Hold it, this is not a negotiation. Emma is pregnant, and we don’t have enough weapons to go around. We have little information on the enemy forces and no way to evacuate us out of here. You’re staying here, it is final. We’re goi
ng to fight a way out of here or none of us are going to make it.”

  John kissed Emma, “Michael said it pretty well, you’re primary job right now is to take care of the baby. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Sarah, reached for Emma’s hand and said, “We’ll be waiting right here.” For a minute Rourke just looked into her eyes, then Sarah smiled and said, “Be careful.”

  Wolf kissed the three women and introduced his head of security to Natalia and Emma, “This is Hans Lugar. Do what he says, exactly what he says.” Wolf turned and joined Rourke and Michael. “Let’s do this, Gentlemen.”

  Zimmerman led the way out into the hall toward the stairwell that headed up from the basement. Rourke waited until he heard the lock engage in the door behind which ten men were guarding three women, ready to die if necessary in that mission; then he hurried to the front of the men moving down the hallway.

  The two teams had separated, one along each wall; people that had trained together fought better together. Rourke remarked in his own head, “Michael is in charge now, not you. You do your job and let him do his.” John smiled at the thought and more than anything else, nodded, again to himself.

  The hallway leading to the stairwell fifty feet away was clear except for smoke settling from the upper floor. Zimmerman was on the left and John Rourke now was leading the group on the right side of the hallway. As they approached within ten feet of the stairwell, they halted.