Robert Wilson and the Invasion from Within

by Scott Ruesterholz

  Frozos slowly walks over to the desk and picks up the phone, hits a few buttons to call the landing bay directly. “Landing bay?… This is Supreme General Frozos. Have you accepted any ships in the last thirty minutes?… Thank you.… Cease all activity immediately.” His calm voice hides his immense alarm. Several individuals will undoubtedly be spending the rest of their lives in prison camps because of this error.

  “Well, Robert, or do you prefer Marcus?”

  “Robert will do just fine. Why don’t you have a seat, Anton?”

  Frozos takes a seat across from Robert. “Well, I must congratulate you. You’ve taken complete control over Earth. I tell you what, why don’t I let you be dictator over Earth? You practically already are! If you merge into the League of Planets, I will need a successor someday.”

  “No deal. You don’t need a successor. You need to be wiped away from the face of the universe.”

  “Then why haven’t you pulled the trigger? I’ve been reading through your files again. You and I are very alike—we’ve risen from nothing to take control of planets.”

  “But I didn’t rise from nothing. I had a good life. Until you took Nayan, murdered my mother, and enslaved my father and me.”

  “Is this what it’s all about? Some petty personal squabble? Your mother was no one to me, nor the millions of others who have resisted. Don’t assign personal meaning or weight where this is none.”

  “You see, that is where you and I differ. I will never allow myself to look at lives like mere numbers and statistics. I will recognize behind every face, there is love, dreams, and ambitions.”

  “You think that makes you strong? That makes you weak!” Frozos says, increasingly agitated. “Within moments, I will have the ability to wipe out every ship on the battlefield. And I will. I am prepared to sacrifice my men to win this planet. And because of that, I will fire my laser cannon and end this conflict once and for all, eliminating every ship, League, Earth, and Rebel alike.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that, Supreme General. You see,” Robert points to a flashing red light on Frozos’s desks. “We’ve been broadcasting directly to your entire fleet. I wonder if they share your zeal for their martyrdom.”

  Frozos lunges at Robert. As his hand attempts to grab the laser pistol out of Robert’s hand, it goes right through it as if through air.

  “I see you forgot that your entire office is equipped with the finest in hologram technology. It really is very life-like,” Robert says as he “stands up” from the chair.

  “I will not rest until I have control over your puny little planet and have sent you back to that horrible, insignificant mine at Nayan.”

  “Well, Earth is not my planet. I am but one of seven billion residents. You may try again in the future; I have no doubt. But not today. I know you are motivated by hate and revenge, that’s why you believed I would have come all this way to kill you. Your hate blinds you. We are motivated by love, love for each other and for our freedom. That’s what makes you weak and us strong. Go ahead and call up to the conn. I think you’ll find that we are holding our ground, even though your attack is coming while your fleet is in panic and disarray.”

  Frozos takes the phone and calls up to the conn. “Status alert? Two more transport destroyers destroyed?… Tiberius in retreat?… Fire the laser cannon now!”

  Frozos turns to Robert. “No matter. In fifteen seconds, your precious fleet will be gone.”

  “Funny,” Robert says. “You never asked what my ship was carrying, since I wasn’t on it.”

  Robert smiles as Frozos’s face drops. There is suddenly a loud explosion that shakes Magnus, nearly knocking Frozos to the ground. Robert’s sphere was filled to the brim with Earth’s most powerful explosives. Combined with a few remaining laser charges, this explosion rocks the loading bay with a fire spreading across much of the ship’s lower level. With the loading bay sitting atop the laser cannon, the explosion has taken it offline.

  Frozos rushes out of the office and to the conn.

  “Sir,” the head weapons officer says, “it will take us at least thirty minutes to get the cannon online and our shields are not fully functioning. Tiberius and the remaining 250 crafts are headed this way. There are still thirty-four thousand SF-01s, thirteen thousand rebel ships, and two of their carriers. I cannot guarantee the ship’s safety if we do not retreat immediately.”

  “Very well. Set course for Centurem. Tell Admiral Tiberius I expect his resignation and a statement accepting full responsibility when we arrive.”

  In the command center, there are cheers all around. The losses have been severe, about 45 percent of pilots who took off to protect the Earth will never return, but they have won the day. Frozos’s ship is limping off into the distance, followed by the remnants of his once extraordinary armada. While the room cheers, Thornhill, Mark, and Chris look at each other solemnly. The explosion on Frozos’s ship must have something to do with Robert’s spacecraft. Their eyes connect—there is no need to say what the three men are thinking. Suddenly, there is another, louder cheer in the room. Standing at the door in the back of the room and walking down the stairs is Robert.

  “But how?” Mark asks.

  “I’ll save the details for later. I just needed to be sure Frozos believed I was on his ship, so I felt it necessary to make PEACE believe it too, just in case he could hear our communications. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to tell you.”

  The four men share hugs, handshakes, and pats on the back.

  “Well,” Robert says to Mark and Chris, “shouldn’t we let our pilots back in?”

  “Oh, my goodness, I completely forgot!” Chris says. He and Mark press the button, opening the force field over Asia.

  Thornhill turns to the communications staff. “Tell them to buzz and flyover the major cities if they want. They deserve some fun after one hell of an effort.”

  While the SF-01s re-enter Earth’s atmosphere, the rebel ships stay in place. When the force field closes again, they turn and shoot off, deep into space, as silently as when they came.

  “Who were they?” Chris asks.

  “Friends,” Robert responds. “Just friends.”

  “Well to be honest, I kind of hope we never have to see them again,” Chris deadpans.

  Over the next ninety minutes, the fleet of surviving SF-01s fly over major cities, signaling to an anxious world that the war has been won. Earth has been saved. Robert communicates the same message to world leaders who began withdrawing military forces from major cities.

  At about 8:00 PM, Robert is once again in front of the Arbor Ridge oak tree and behind the cameras.

  “Good evening. It is with profound joy that I announce that the battle for Earth is over, and that we have been victorious. In the hours and days to come, I am sure that footage from the battle in space will be released. Let me just say this. We nearly wiped out the entire fleet with just one transport destroyer, a few dozen small crafts, and Frozos’s personal ship surviving and retreating.

  “This victory came at heavy cost. We lost 30,102 pilots, out of 64,492. Each of these pilots had a face, a name, and people whom they loved. I wish I could list off every name to you. Most of these men and women were civilians two months ago, and they chose to lay down their lives to protect ours. They are true heroes. May we live out our own lives to justify their sacrifice.

  “As you saw outside New York City today, we were aided in our struggle against tyranny by another alien force. I do not know who they are, but they provided three carriers and over twenty thousand pilots to the fight. At the conclusion of the battle, they left as unannounced as they came. We owe them deep gratitude. Their presence is proof that the thirst for freedom is truly universal.

  “Based on the outcome of this battle, I do believe the state of emergency we have lived under is over. I have communicated this to global political leaders. We of
course will be monitoring space for signs Frozos attempts to return, but this is unlikely anytime soon. Barring their return in the next few weeks, which again I do not foresee, we will be thinking about the future of PEACE, if there is any, and presenting those plans in a month or so.

  “Thank you. God bless you, and most of all, God bless the men, women, and aliens who put down their lives to protect us today.”

  Chapter 29

  Washington, D.C.

  July 12, 2029

  One month has passed since Frozos’s remaining ships limped into space. With each passing day, hope grew that they wouldn’t be returning, some hoped forever. In reality, most accept that they are now living in a different world where interaction with alien intelligent life, both hostile and peace-seeking, is inevitable. The force field system that kept Earth safe in its hour of greatest need is unlikely to ever be removed, even if it no longer remains turned on 24/7. But with this battle with the League of Planets now over, life on Earth is returning to normal.

  Commercial and government flights to the International Space Station and moon base have resumed. Governments globally have begun to ease policies implemented since April 2, rescinding states of emergency and removing military presences from major cities. On June 18, financial markets reopened, and nonessential work resumed. Cities that had been emptied are filling back up.

  The global supply chain that Robert Wilson had built to manufacture the SF-01 for PEACE has been shuttered. Companies that retooled factories and assembly lines reverted to their standard production. For a time, rival businesses had put aside their differences to coordinate activity on a global scale, but the competition that defines the economic system has recommenced. Workers have resumed normal activity, and vacation activities have boomed with hotels globally reporting record occupancies as millions look for the mental breather that a vacation offers.

  In the United States, President Larom has worked to restore a degree of normalcy to the political system. Her choice for Vice President had been delayed by the imminent threat posed by Frozos. Three weeks ago, she chose from the slate of three candidates proposed by the opposition party, choosing the senior Senator from Arizona, William Whitestone. The Senate confirmed him four days ago, and he has been sworn in as Vice President. She is now focusing on an agenda of anti-corruption and restoring intelligence agencies to ensure that there can never be another instance of infiltration into the upper echelons of the government as happened with the election of Nick Neverian as President. Next week, Neverian is set to appear in criminal court on charges of election and immigration fraud.

  Robert Wilson has continued to oversee the operations of PEACE as its Commander. In the days after the battle, operations continued as normal with the supply chain rebuilding the SF-01 fleet to fifty thousand units. Over the past two weeks, he has been meeting with government officials around the world to solicit their opinion about the future of PEACE and the force field, which he retains control over. During his meeting with President Larom to solicit her views, she announced that the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services had at her behest processed an application to make Robert Wilson officially an American citizen. There in the Oval Office, Robert swore the oath of citizenship. After years of pretending, he now truly is an American citizen.

  The more than 30,000 pilots who died to save Earth have been offered ceremonial burials at each nation’s military cemetery, an unprecedented honor. Robert was there personally for Anna Small’s burial service. Only four of the Arbor Ridge interns who were critical to this project are still alive: Jerome Smith of America, Dmitry Ivanov of Russia, Samantha Sharp of Australia, and Kim Ji-Yoo of South Korea. They each have asked to remain at PEACE if possible.

  It is nearly 8:00 PM in Washington, D.C. on Thursday, July 12. Robert is sitting in an office on Capitol Hill, just outside the floor of the House of Representatives. This is the same office he had sat in with Chris Bailey on April 6 before addressing Congress and the American people to outline his vision for PEACE and defeating Frozos. Tonight, he will be outlining his vision for PEACE in the “post-Frozos” world. Would he remain as Commander? Would he resign and return to Arbor Ridge? He has not told anyone of his proposal, working on this speech alone, and so speculation has reached a fever pitch. His personal approval rating is near 90 percent, higher than any government, affording him significant power and political capital. Sitting with Robert are Mark and Chris.

  There is a knock on the door, and a man walks in. “It’s time, Commander Wilson.”

  “Thank you.” Robert gets out his chair. He puts on the suit jacket hung over the chair. The black suit is paired today with a red-and-blue patterned tie; as always, he has an American flag lapel pin on.

  As he gets to the door, Mark puts his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Robert, I don’t know what you are going to say tonight. Just know this. You have done something truly remarkable. As you speak tonight, remember why you did it in the first place.”

  Robert nods knowingly. As they walk out of the office, Mark and Chris are escorted to the balcony to watch the speech while Robert follows the man down the marble hallway. At the door of the House Chamber, he waits as the man shouts, “Commander Robert Wilson.”

  Ahead of his previous remarks, Robert was met with polite if tepid applause. Tonight, the roar is deafening as Robert is given a hero’s welcome. All the Senators and members of the House on the center aisle are reaching for a handshake, and it takes Robert several minutes to reach the front of the room.

  Upon reaching the lectern, Robert hands two copies of the speech, which have been sitting atop it, to the Speaker of the House and President Pro Tempore of the Senate. After another two minutes, and Robert’s insistence for quiet, the audience takes its seat. Robert is set to begin a speech that will be watched by over one hundred million Americans and billions globally, outlining PEACE’s future as well as his own. Would he voluntarily relinquish the tremendous power he had assumed two months ago?

  “Mister Speaker, Mister President, and esteemed members of Congress, thank you for inviting me to address you and the American people tonight. It has been two months since I spoke in this chamber last. During that time, I have acquired two new titles. The first being Commander of Protecting Earth against Alien Conquest and Exploitation, PEACE. The second is a title that I will hold dear for the rest of my days, that of citizen of the United States of America.”

  That line spurs another massive round of applause. As the crowd settles down, Robert looks up to the balcony and makes eye contact with Mark and Chris.

  “Tonight, I will discuss what I believe the future holds for PEACE and for myself…”

  About the Author

  Scott Ruesterholz lives in New York where he works in financial services. His political commentary has been featured in numerous outlets like Townhall and The Federalist. This is his debut novel.