He paused mid-span and looked down at the lazy stream.
Although mid-day, the air was chilly—it made him shudder. He managed to get his hands in his pockets—no easy feat—then rested and stared into the distance.
“Shit,” he mumbled absently for no particular reason. His voice was no longer his own but Whitehall’s deep growl. He had to admit, he rather liked it.
A dong sounded. “Correction…” came a computer generated voice from the speaker near his left ear, “that is out of character. Substitute appropriate…”
“Fuck off,” again that growl of someone he didn’t yet know.
A ding sounded. There were dings and dongs—dings were good. “Much better,” came the voice.
Whitehall smiled—the smile had been a surgical correction—it was Whitehall all the way and there had been no need for hours of practice. He didn’t even feel the difference.
Three months of this shit at a price that cut deeply into his remaining fortune.
His face was still puffy and disjointed. That had been expected. Hiding out at the mansion to complete the makeover while his face continued to heal had been the only option.
He sighed, then he slowly swaggered off, the exoskeleton protesting every now and then. “Yeah…yeah…” he said.
Dong.
“Correction” came a computer-generated voice. “That is out of character…”
Chapter Four – The Second Council of War
“What do we know? From the Loud’s Tachyon scans of the activities that transpired in their star system, we know really very little. We know that as the black hole approaches the inner system it seems to just vanish and what appears to be a single large ship emerges. We know this ship appears to go into orbit around the Loud home world and that a large amount of energy is released for the rotational period of the planet. After that a much larger amount of energy is released toward the Loud star for precisely twenty-eight minutes. After this…nothing for three weeks. Then the star explodes. Everything else is speculation—motive, unknown. The question is, over the next two hundred years, what kind of defense can we craft based on this information.”
Commander and Chief President James Olson Wicker
The Second Council of War
Source: The Archive
T-Minus 195 Years
Amular’s Smaller Moon (The Farm Moon), Level Three…
After making Amular’s population immortal, nanite swarms created by the Loud had carved out the first and second levels of Amular’s Smaller Moon, creating enormous farmlands. Along with building habitats across the Iceis Star System, this effort was to feed Amular’s expected and now in progress population explosion. Each level was 500 feet high with solar lights and water sprinklers built into the ceiling. The exterior of the moon had been covered with solar panels.
The Loud had injected a swarm of construction nanite into the unfinished third level. This swarm had carved out and equipped a large area for Amular’s Second Council of War. They had followed slightly modified blueprints from the First Council of War held five years ago at The Hideaway Shipyards.
It was the first day and the hall had filled. When the chime sounded, the murmur of almost 200 voices went mostly silent.
President Wicker appeared on the large screen. “Good morning and welcome to Amular’s Second Council of War.” Wicker looked around the assembly. His voice sounded a little tinny as it echoed across the chamber. “The first order of business is a health and safety issue, so please listen carefully.” The bits of conversation were shushed by others and the room went completely quiet. Wicker picked up a piece of paper, read for a minute then said, “As I’m sure you know, this room was created and equipped by Loud nanite swarms. Now, the Loud have assured us that there’s no reason for alarm, however, if anyone feels an itching sensation,” hurried bits of conversation came from everywhere, “or if, in the morning, your rear end looks strange…ah, if it sort of looks like the pretty design on the walls…please report this immediately to any employee.” The conversations tripled. Wicker continued, “The Loud have reported about six thousand of their construction nanite are still missing and…” in the audience, two dozen rose from their seats and began to frantically brush their rear ends off with their hands. Wicker burst out laughing, “I’m kidding…just kidding…there are no loose nanite.” Wicker raised both hands, “I repeat…there are no loose nanite.” After a slight delay, the room erupted with laughter as the faces of people brushing themselves off turned red.
Wicker raised his hands again, “All right…all right…” the laughter quieted down, “…I paid a lot of money for that joke…” applause interrupted him, he raised his hands again, “I’m glad you liked it,” more applause.
When the room quieted down Wicker continued, “As before, Admiral Leewood will chair the meeting. However, among the many topics will be two that I want to touch on now because they will radically change the way we do business. These areas were brought to my attention by Bugs, the Loud ambassador.” Wicker looked at Bugs, “Whenever Bugs asks me for a meeting …I get nervous.” A spattering of laughter erupted from the gathering. “This time didn’t disappoint.” The President took a drink of water during the more subdued laughter. “These items are going to revolutionize the way we do things and, admittedly, they’ll take some getting used to.
“The first separates rank, authority and pay from job description. In our current system, people whose performance is good are promoted and, if they continue to perform well, their promoted again and again until eventually they are promoted to their level of incompetence. That is to say, they do a good job so we promote them and this repeats until we promote them to a job they are not good at and there…well, they stay. And, too often people are taken from the jobs they're best at and put in jobs they're not suited for. A perfect example is Admiral Adamarus Maximus.” Wicker looked his way and gave him a mock salute.
“Maximus is a great fighter pilot and ship captain, but…he’s not the best paper pusher, which is mainly what a Fleet Admiral does.” Again, laughter broke out. “So basically this new policy will put people where they want to be and in positions they are good at.” Wicker held up a hand, “There will be much more on this topic later and, as I said, this change will take time, but I’m convinced it will improve everything we do.”
“The second item, well I have to admit, this took me by surprise. As a picture is worth a thousand words, may I call your attention to the display to the lower right of the one I’m on.” On the indicated display screen, weapons appeared—old weapons. “You can see…a .45 caliber machine gun, the Hulk-4 tank, the Z07 fighter jet and other antiquated weapons systems. These are the weapons we had two hundred years ago. Any weapons we could build now would look this out of date to us two hundred years from now when the alien arrives.”
It took several seconds for the assembly to digest that. “Again…the weapons we are developing right now out at Hideaway will be this antiquated—this out of date—two hundred years from now when we need to use them. Actually, they’ll be far more antiquated as the rate of technological advancement is always accelerating.”
“What does this mean in practical terms? It means we should switch completely to research and development. At some point, we must start building, but this will be determined by estimates on how long we need to build, test, train and implement weapons at any given technical level. In other words, if we determine it will take fifty years to prepare our defenses, then we do R&D for the next one hundred and fifty years.”
The assembly was shocked. People looked right and left with their mouths half open, but there was nothing anyone could say. Not with the ancient weapons of 200 years previous still displayed on the screen.
---
The Second Council of War lasted six weeks. It determined which ongoing weapons production and testing programs could continue and which would be placed on hold pending future technological advancement. The grav-bomb programs were to continue since t
his weapon had reached and surpassed the maximum level of acceptable destruction.
Since the grav-bomb was still on the table, the trek out to the ice clouds to test and plant them was planned out. This would require time to assemble the bombs and some limited in-system testing, but eventually it would mean traveling out to the ice cloud a light year away. This mission would take between 12 to 16 years.
Other things discussed and planned included increasing cooperation between the humans and Loud avatars to maximize productivity. More avatars would be constructed and more Loud trained to use them.
A new department was formed to facilitate moving people to the jobs they did best over the next 10 years as well as weed out people who had been promoted to their level of incompetence.
The current weapons systems under development were unveiled. These included advanced particle beams, masers and lasers, and kinetic weapon systems.
Finally, after six weeks, Amular’s Second Counsel of War came to a close.
---
Six months later, 32 Loud landers descended from all four Loud Umbrella ships. They landed at 32 different research laboratories and factories where 64 additional avatars were distributed to work with the humans.
The same number was dispatched off-world to the Hideaway, Anderson and Bernard shipyards as well as a dozen other orbital research centers and factories.
---
“General,” Blain Usher called out as Whitehall exited from the terminal.
De Bella was now as completely General Rodger Allen Whitehall as science and training could make him. Besides the years of learning Whitehall’s body language—how he walked, talked, thought and behaved—De Bella had also learned to respond to his new name and title and ignore his old identity instinctively and without thinking.
Whitehall and Blain hadn’t seen each other in years. They met and shook hands.
“Blain, tell me, how is everything?” the lower, gruff and slower voice asked.
Blain’s mouth dropped open. He said, “Unbelievable.” He leaned in closer and spoke quietly so no one else could hear him, “De Bella? Is that really you inside there?”
Whitehall’s smile faded and his eyes went dead. He spoke quietly and savagely, “Never utter that name in my presence again or I will kill you on the spot.” His eyes bored into Blain’s until the other man looked away.
“Right…sorry,” Blain said meekly.
Using fake identity papers, Whitehall had flown into the small town of Andorra as James Dolan, an identity that would vanish as soon as Whitehall reached his cabin. Blain had met him at the airport with a used all-terrain vehicle he’d purchased, stocked with all the supplies Whitehall had requested.
They made their way to baggage claims and Blain helped Whitehall with his luggage. Outside, even though mid-morning, the heat was stifling, the air still. The vehicle was parked 20 feet away and they walked to it and put everything inside. Both men were already starting to sweat when they finished.
Nodding at the somewhat worn ATV, Whitehall asked, “The air conditioning works, right?”
Blain gave him a wary look, “General Whitehall worried about AC?” He shook his head.
“The General has mellowed in his older mental age.” If not for the Loud’s immortality pills, Whitehall would have been 95. As it was, a rugged but youthful 30-year-old smiled back.
While De Bella had been becoming Whitehall, Blain had been overseeing the modernization of Whitehall’s wilderness cabin. He had a new generator installed, better insulation, central air and heat and all the latest communication gear. In addition, a state-of-the-art entertainment system and a small gym had been installed. If the new Whitehall were going to have to hide out here for a couple more years establishing himself, a minimum level of comfort would be required.
Whitehall put on a pair of sunglasses, got behind the wheel and closed the door. Blain knocked on the window and Whitehall rolled it down.
“You’re sure on how to get there, sir?”
“I remember the way,” he glanced at his watch, “and I should get there before sundown.”
Blain leaned forward, “You’re sure you need to do all this?”
Whitehall’s plan was to continue to establish himself as being a recluse and having lived alone in his wilderness cabin for decades. He also had a lot of studying yet to do on Whitehall’s military training, mostly history and tactics. He also had tons of correspondence to go through. Moreover, although most people had not seen him for decades, there were a few exceptions and he needed to test his impersonation with these family members and friends.
Whitehall nodded, “Yes, I’m sure. When does your plane leave?”
Blain was going to a small town on the other side of the planet to lay low for the most part while Whitehall spent a couple of years doing what he needed to do, although Blain did have a few assignments to perform for his boss.
“I have about an hour’s wait,” he replied.
“Okay. Get in touch when you’re settled in.”
“Will do.”
Without another word, Whitehall started the engine and began the six-hour drive into the wilderness.
---
That fall, all of the special team plus the President and First Lady got together in Axis for Harrington and Leewood’s wedding. There were about 80 guests, and due to security, it was held in the main dining room of the Capitol Building.
After the wedding, at the reception Adamarus mingled with the guests and worked the crowd, something he had once dreaded but was now used to.
Someone touched his arm and he turned. It was Evelyn. They smiled at each other. Outside of a brief hello at the wedding, they had not had time to talk.
“How are you?” Evelyn asked.
“Good. And you?”
“Everything’s good.” She seemed a little flustered. “So busy…time flies.”
They had not seen each other since their encounter at the safe house after the assassination attempt. This was a bit awkward, Adamarus thought. He resisted the urge to look for his wife, Grace, or Evelyn’s husband, Brandon. “You must have been pretty shaken up after the…shooting. I know I was.”
Evelyn, remembering their lustful loss of control at the safe house just after the assassination attempt, looked away and blushed. “Shaken up…that’s one way to put it.” She looked back at him, her face a little red, her eyes hooded, her mouth fighting not to frown, “I guess I must admit to some…long-term effects…from the incident but,” her eyes seemed to go flat, “more so from…afterwards.” Her eyes drifted downwards. Neither could have said when her hand had come up to rest on his upper arm.
Adamarus’ mouth was suddenly dry.
Evelyn’s husband Brandon appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “My dear, is Adamarus thrilling you with one of his gripping tales of daring do?” Brandon looked pointedly at her hand. He was smiling, a twinkle in his eye. He’d been drinking, but his level of intoxication hovered well within the good-natured zone.
Adamarus expected Evelyn to remove her hand, but instead she reached up with her other hand, put it on his other shoulder, and stepped in closer to him. “Brandon, your timing is so terrible. I was just in the final stages of seduction.”
“You mean when you say, honey, there’s cobwebs on the ceiling?” Brandon said with a smile.
At that moment Adamarus’ wife, Grace, swept into the group. “I’ve heard that joke, Brandon—even told it on occasion.” She turned to Adamarus, “Hi, honey.”
“Hi,” Adamarus said, still in Evelyn’s embrace.
“You look comfy,” Grace said, eyeing the two.
“Grace, I’m so sorry,” Evelyn said, pulling Adamarus even closer. “I’m hitting on your husband.”
Grace laughed aloud.
Adamarus decided he needed to eject. He politely detached Evelyn while saying, “Grace, your timing is horrible.” He stepped away from Evelyn then turned back to her, “We’ll have to try this later.” Everyone laughed and Adamarus excused
himself and went to get a drink.
---
Because Adamarus would be gone for such a long time on the grav-bomb mission to the ice cloud, he was granted a one-year vacation before the mission. This also gave the Loud time to develop the bombs and do what in-system testing was possible.
He took Grace and Nero to Dark Mountain for three months of skiing, then they took a cruise out to Aster and Serena to see the rings and moons while they still existed.
They returned a month before Adamarus’ departure. The weeks and days passed and finally it was time.
“It won’t be all that bad,” Adamarus said. “We’ll have the Tach-Com so we can talk anytime with no delays. I can still play in our weekly card games.”
Grace shook her head, “Aren’t we breaking some absolute law of the universe using that thing? I mean, I’ll effectively get your transmissions before you send them.”
“It’s called timeline tunneling and while I don’t understand it, I know it works.”
Grace smiled and shook her head. “Please be careful.”
“I will,” Adamarus kissed her then turned to Nero. Nero was now as tall as his father was and looked a lot like him. Adamarus placed his hands on his son’s shoulders, “Nero, I’m very proud of you. I’m very sorry that I’ll miss your graduation, but by the time I get back, you should be out of flight school and have your own ship.”
Nero smiled, “That will be something.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
“Take care of your mother.”
“I will.”
Adamarus embraced Nero then picked up his briefcase and left.
The limo took him to the Loud Compound, then to the old and no longer used Listening Chamber and the Loud lander. Inside the sound proof chamber Adamarus discovered the same dark capsule they had used before to board the lander. Adamarus climbed in and, as expected, Bugs’ avatar was in the pilot seat. “Good morning, Adamarus.”
The entry to the capsule closed magically and it lifted off the floor.
Countdown Amageddon (The Spiral Slayers Book 2) Page 10