Super World Two

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Super World Two Page 25

by Lawrence Ambrose


  Jamie gave a start as Brian snorted awake behind her. She glanced over her shoulder to see him sitting up, rubbing his eyes. When she turned back to Amelrina the alien was gone.

  "Strange," said Brian, yawning. "All this excitement must've worn me down more than I thought."

  "Yeah," said Jamie. "I guess so."

  "Did Gabrielle show up? I thought I heard someone talking."

  "Yes. We had a talk while you were, um, sleeping."

  "What did she say?"

  Jamie breathed in and out. Then she stopped breathing. Neither helped settle her nerves or prepare her to handle her bleak future.

  "She didn't want you to know, and I'm going to respect that."

  "You can't even give me a hint?"

  "It was about the future of this planet."

  "Nothing more specific?"

  "I'm sorry, Brian. I hope you'll believe me when I tell you knowing what I know would not give you any peace. It would not help you do anything. I'm not sure it helps me do anything."

  "I don't find that very convincing, Jamie."

  "I guess you'll have to remain unconvinced, then."

  "Oh, come on. You're going to leave me hanging like this?"

  Jamie walked away from him with a smile. He trailed her across the backyard into the house.

  "But you're going to tell President Tomlinson?" he demanded.

  Jamie hesitated, stopping her first response that she would tell the President something. For all she knew, everything outside the work shed was being recorded. She guessed that her conversation with Amelrina hadn't been – that Brian's security countermeasures were effective – or the alien wouldn't have spoken to her freely. If the government did know what was said in there, she would be in big trouble. She didn't imagine they'd have many moral qualms about killing a Medal of Freedom awardee to remove an alien death sentence on their world.

  Try killing, Jamie thought grimly.

  "Jamie?"

  She shook herself free of her dark reverie and turned back to the scowling ex-evangelist.

  "Yes," she said. "I'm going to tell the President." She added in a softer voice, "And I'll make sure they unfreeze your accounts while I'm at it."

  "Oh, uh, thanks. But Jamie –"

  "You'll have to trust me, Brian," she said. "Trust that I'll do the right thing. Or do what I believe is the right thing."

  They stopped in front of the SUV in his driveway. Wanda Stiles sat like a mannequin inside, her expressionless gaze fixed on them.

  "I'll check back with you," said Jamie. "Let you know how everything goes."

  "That would be cool."

  After a short hesitation, Brian held out his arms and they hugged.

  "See you soon," said Jamie.

  Inside the SUV next to Wanda, Jamie watched the long-haired Last Days preacher retreat into his unlit mansion with a final wave. Jamie raised a rueful hand. She turned to her stone-faced companion.

  "What now?" Jamie asked.

  "Did you make contact with the aliens?"

  "Yes."

  "Do they still intend to harm us?"

  "Shouldn't I be talking to the President directly?"

  "You are being recorded. All applicable government officials will have access to this recording. Please answer my questions."

  Jamie had an inkling about what she would tell the President, but she wanted more time to think this through. Once she answered, there would be no take-backs.

  "I'll answer to the President herself," said Jamie. "Not to some rude fucking lackey."

  She hadn't planned to drop the F-bomb, but it felt surprisingly good with this person. Strangely, Wanda showed no sign of being offended.

  "A link is now being established to the President," she announced in a flat voice that matched her reptilian gaze. "Standby for the President of the United States."

  Jamie felt a familiar sinking sensation as a TV screen mounted above the rearview mirror flickered to life. Why was it so important to talk to President Tomlinson this very moment? Whatever the reason, she was going to either need to come up with another excuse or answer the President's questions. And since no excuse was coming to mind...

  President Tomlinson materialized on the screen, wearing a tolerant smile with slightly peeved undertones. She was sitting in the Situation Room, surrounded by advisors. Jamie recognized a few of them, including the Secretary of Defense, Vice President Molly Winters, and General Akron.

  Jamie was now officially out of time. She ramped her thinking into overdrive.

  "Jamie," said the President. "You felt you needed to tell me this personally? Is there an emergency?"

  "The Elementals are not happy about what we did to their ship, Madame President. They still have us marked for destruction, and they have another, smaller ship apparently close and powerful enough to accomplish that." Jamie waited as President Tomlinson rocked back, her expression flattened by fear and shock. The die for the rest of her story was cast. "I think that might qualify as an emergency."

  "Another ship...?"

  "Yes."

  "You believe you were communicating directly with the Elementals?"

  "With one alien, yes. I've met her in my world. Her name is Amelrina."

  "Did she give any indication where this second ship is?"

  "No, Madame President. But I assume it's close enough – or will be close enough – to strike us."

  "Did she say when this might happen?"

  "No, Ma'am."

  President Tomlinson slumped in her seat, her face a picture of despair. Vice President Winters leaned toward the camera.

  "Jamie," she said. "First, thank you for your continued service to our country. I'm curious about one thing. Am I correct in assuming this alien female was speaking through Brian Loving?"

  "No, Vice President Winters. She spoke to me directly, appearing in physical form through teleportation. Brian was unconscious at the time. I believe Amelrina put him to sleep so that he wouldn't hear what was being said."

  Now it was the Vice President Winter's turn to slump in her seat. The wind had been stolen from whatever follow-up questions she'd been planning.

  "She's capable of teleporting anywhere?" asked one of the scientists – Jamie thought she remembered him as heading some special DARPA division.

  "She says Brian was her sole 'teleportive link' here, so I'm guessing no."

  The people around the table started talking, but someone had hit the "mute" button on their end, and Jamie heard nothing of their conversation. That went on for five or six minutes before the people straightened up and the sound returned.

  "Jamie," said Vice President Molly Winters, looking her in the eye. "Are you leaving anything out? Is there something you haven't told us?"

  Jamie fought a moment of panic. Had they spotted an inconsistency in her story? Wasn't she coming across as truthful?

  "We did argue a little," she said, making herself hold the Vice President's gaze. "I told her I didn't think they had the right, that they could make mistakes in their predictions, but I didn't change her mind."

  After a few seconds, President Tomlinson nodded. "Thank you, Jamie. That's all for now. Wanda will fly you to your home or you can return as you see fit."

  "Madame President."

  President Tomlinson paused in turning from her. "Yes, dear?"

  "I'd like to have legal status. Not a PLED, but some form of hard ID that exempts me from being chipped and allows me to work, purchase things, and – "

  "I understand. I will get you an external PLED. We'll also open an account for you in a local bank. I should've done it sooner, considering your invaluable contributions to our cause, but we've been rather preoccupied of late. Was there anything else?"

  "No, Ma'am."

  "Good. We'll be in touch."

  The screen went black. Jamie had the feeling she'd missed something – some subliminal message she couldn't quite put her finger on. Was she being paranoid? After all, secrecy was this government's thing. She co
uldn't expect them to share their innermost thoughts with her, anymore than she was sharing hers with them. Still, something didn't quite feel right...something about the Vice President's last question. A Vice President who was famous for her psychological expertise and insights.

  "Do you want me to drive you to the airport?" asked Wanda.

  "No." Jamie avoided looking at the woman's blank mask of a face. "I'll take it from here."

  She stepped from the car without a backward glance and launched herself into the upper atmosphere. From there, North Dakota gleamed a hazy yellow of dried prairie grass. Jamie reached out her hand, her finger covering the city of Grand Forks, and descended in a blur to her home.

  SILENCE PERSISTED in the Situation Room for many moments after the call to Jamie had ended. Eventually, President Tomlinson stirred.

  "Do we have a full assessment of her statement?" she asked.

  "Yes, Ma'am," said FBI Director Gordon Keyes, consulting his laptop. "Our Facial and Vocal Microanalysis System shows that a high percentage of her statements were truthful. However, there were strong indications of confabulation in her reply to the Vice President's question about whether she was telling us everything."

  "She may have interpreted that to mean she was leaving out non-essential aspects of her conversation," said Vice President Winters. "What would be the incentive to lie about an alien death threat?"

  "I don't want to guess her incentives," said the President. "I want to know the whole truth."

  "Should we place our fleet on highest alert, President Tomlinson?" asked General Akron. "I'd recommend we create a defensive ring around the planet rather than weaken our defensive resources with a wide-ranging search."

  "Yes. I agree. Sound the alarm for whatever good it will do." President Tomlinson made an irritable, dismissive gesture and turned to the FBI Director. "We have no surveillance which corroborates her claims?"

  "No, Madame President. Not of the conversation itself. We have video up to their entrance in the outbuilding. Listening devices in the area were neutralized by an electromagnetic interference field."

  President Tomlinson eyed the big screen on one wall which showed Brian and Jamie entering the storage shed.

  "There may be no corroborating surveillance," she said, "but there's one person who was with her during her conversation with the alien. Is it possible Loving could remember some of what was said even if he was unconscious?"

  Everyone's eyes shifted in the general direction of the Director of Alternative Research, Jacob Kushner. Kushner offered his best reptilian smile.

  "I believe we have something that could work, Madame President," he said. "We have a rather powerful system for extracting unconscious memories. I can't guarantee success, but if it's in his head, we'll recover it."

  "All right." President Tomlinson leaned forward briskly. "I want Loving brought in for questioning immediately, Gordon. Jacob, get your 'system' ready. We'll ask him nicely to cooperate, but this time the gloves are off. Do whatever it takes to learn what he knows."

  "And if he does confirm Jamie's story, Madame President?" The Defense Secretary asked.

  "Then we'd better pray we can pull off one more miracle, Burt."

  Chapter 15

  TWO DAYS LATER, JAMIE received a padded envelope marked Federal Overnight Express from the Department of Homeland Security. Not normally a government agency she'd want to hear from, but under the circumstances she had a good feeling about what might be inside. Her pleasant expectations were exceeded: not only an External PLED, which was a somewhat thicker and more intricate-looking version of a Real ID driver's license from her world – featuring imbedded lines that looked like electrical circuits – but also a bank booklet bearing the name First Savings and Trust. Jamie opened the booklet, her eyes locking on the current balance figure: $2,000,000.

  As she reeled, Jamie also had a powerful sense of déjà vu. She'd also received two million dollars for turning over The Object to the government. Maybe the two events were linked cosmically in some way? Synchronicity?

  Still, it was hard to get too celebratory over anything when a death sentence hung over them as she faced an especially bleak form of Sophie's Choice: she could give up her life but still not be assured of her family's survival. In fact, reading between the lines, there was no guarantee of anyone surviving the apocalypse Amelrina and the "Elementals" predicted for the human race even if the death sentence was removed.

  But everything considered, Jamie noted with a droll smile, two million dollars and a work permit beat being penniless and socially disenfranchised before the apocalypse.

  When Dennis and Kylee asked her what she'd learned from Brian about the aliens, she couldn't bring herself to tell them the brutal truth. Instead, she'd said the aliens were still not sure about how to respond. Dennis sensed she wasn't leveling with them, but didn't press her. Jamie thought she would tell him the whole truth at some point, but for now the only person she dared talk about this with was her dad. She had to talk to somebody, and he was it. He might be an eccentric, but he had a way of cutting through bullshit that she could use right about now.

  But Jamie started to question her choice when her father's face turned the color of the grey water frothing around the docks and boats stretching beyond the Ye Old Inn's deserted rear balcony as she described her "between the devil and the deep blue sea" dilemma. The thunderstorm raging outside the building and the booming of nearby lightning added an appropriately apocalyptic air to her words. Even if the government had bugged the balcony – unlikely, since this was their first time here, and the place was chosen at random as were all their private meeting places – Jamie doubted the devices would fair well when they could barely hear each other without leaning their heads in close. The weather would also keep the drones away, much as it did hungry July mosquitoes.

  "I can't believe they'd be so inflexible," Cal said a few inches from her ear. "Why couldn't they just wait and see what happens with us? Why do they have to take such drastic measures now? Would it kill them to check back in a century or two?"

  "I guess they think it might." Jamie gave him a pained smile. "Or their schedule's too booked up."

  A few drops of rain leaked through the roof directly above them, splatting on their table. Jamie created a field around them which deflected the drips. She wondered if it would deflect a lightning strike as well.

  "Have you considered going back?" Cal asked. "To your world?"

  "I've thought about it." She frowned. "I don't even know if returning to my original world would save this one, since in theory I could return. But if I stay, the Earth is doomed. It could be doomed even if I go, but there's a small chance some people – including you, Dennis, and Kylee – could survive."

  "If you could find the remaining ship..."

  "I don't know how to do that. And even if I did, there's a good chance I'd fail to destroy it. It only worked with the big ship because I found a way inside with an antimatter bomb. Otherwise, I don't think I would've had any chance of making it past their defenses – even working with the USSC fleet."

  "I think you're underestimating yourself. Look at it this way: you've gone toe-to-toe with the Elementals twice, and the score is 2 – 0 your favor. I'm betting it would be 3 – 0 if you find them."

  "Nice you have so much faith in me, Dad, but in both cases I had people working with me. And even with all our superpowers we would've had no chance without Amelrina and her 'fifth columns' help. We don't have any of that here."

  "Then we're back to returning to your world," said Cal. "And bringing us with you."

  Jamie gave him a thin smile. "I wonder how you'd get along with your other self."

  "Famously, if he's half as enlightened as I am."

  "Well, he's got a much better vertical leap. He can dunk from the foul line."

  "My hero."

  Jamie's chuckle fell flat. "And I'd need to bring along Kylee and Dennis, too."

  "You and Dennis are an item now?"

>   "Yeah. He and his fiancé broke up. He wants us to be a family again."

  "Glad to hear that. Dennis is a good man. A bit close-minded, but good."

  "Dad, compared to you pretty much everyone is close-minded."

  "What can I say? I have a talent for seeing what others are too afraid to see."

  Lightning speared the lake a mile or two out. The blast rolled in over the water and thrummed in their chests.

  "The only problem is," said Jamie, "teleportation isn't in my repertoire of superpowers."

  "That you know of."

  "I think I would know by now. And I've never heard of augments sprouting new abilities. They only learn how to refine the ones they already have."

  "All I can say is that you found a way here, and in my opinion, you can find a way back – if that's what you truly want."

  Jamie decided not to bother arguing the point with her mule-headed father. Besides, in all honesty, she'd flirted with the idea of traveling between the two worlds herself and the possibility that it wasn't impossible. Somehow. Maybe her world's Brian would show up one of these days, and that option would become real. Or they could fight the Elementals together.

  "I didn't come all this way, go through all this, to fail," said Jamie. "We'll figure out a way, somehow."

  "That's my girl."

  AT FIRST when the federal agents showed up and told him they had some follow-up questions regarding Jamie and her meeting with Gabrielle/Amelrina, Brian thought that was par for the course. It would've been strange if they hadn't contacted him. And when he told them he'd been unconscious during the meeting, it didn't strike him as unusual that they wanted him to come in for a more formal interview. They would be rightfully suspicious that he just happened to fall asleep during a conversation of that importance.

  But when he arrived at the local FBI headquarters and was shown into a room that housed what looked like an electric chair designed by Dr. Evil – complete with the standard hair-dryer dome bristling with sinister electrodes connected to a series of towering computers or machines – Brian had a bad feeling. Interrogations that featured mad-scientist electric chairs didn't generally end well for the interrogatee.

 

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