by E. R. Torre
The emotions faded quickly as Glen reached into his jacket. Seeing the cell phone was confirmation of the Vice President’s status.
It was time.
When Glen’s hand emerged from his jacket, it held a long black blade.
CHAPTER THIRTY SIX
General Spradlin shielded his eyes from the sun. Two hours passed since he floated away from Bad Penny. He could no longer see the island to the west. Indeed, he could see absolutely no land at all protruding from the monotonous sea. He was completely alone.
It’s time.
General Spradlin reached into the British agent’s backpack. He ignored the binoculars and camera and grabbed the ordinary looking rectangular box. He briefly examined it.
“All right,” he muttered.
He pressed on the sides of the box until a side panel sprung open. Revealed below the thin panel was a single black button. General Spradlin pressed it.
“Show yourselves,” he muttered.
General Spradlin waited patiently. The tide took him further and further to sea. There was no way he’d get back to the island under his own power, and no chance at all to make it to the U.S. Coast.
That thought, however, didn’t disturb him. He sat back, relaxed, and waited.
A half hour later, General Spradlin noticed a disturbance below the surface of the sea. A huge, shadowy form, like an enormous whale, shot past. The sea boiled with bubbles. Suddenly, an enormous conning tower ripped through the water and rose into the air.
General Spradlin recognized the tower’s shape and dimensions and almost at once recognized the submarine as a British Astute class model. She looked brand new.
Clever, General Spradlin thought.
A handful of crewmembers dressed in dark jumpsuits appeared on the conning tower and exposed deck. Those nearest to General Spradlin carried handguns and rifles. When they realized the man in the rubber boat wasn’t who they thought it would be, one of them let out a shout and the others aimed their weapons at him.
General Spradlin decided it would be best for everyone concerned if he raised his good hand over his head.
“Who the hell are you?” someone yelled from the conning tower. Not surprisingly, he spoke with a British accent.
General Spradlin squinted in the direction of the tower. He spotted three figures dressed in light colored clothing standing there. They too held weapons and pointed them in the direction of General Spradlin. The one who yelled at him had graying hair. The insignias on his suit indicated he was the Captain of this vessel.
“Ahoy, Avenger,” General Spradlin said. “I see you launched a few months early.”
The Captain didn’t immediately reply. He had no idea of what to make of the American dressed in U.S. military fatigues on board the British SIS’s boat.
“Who the hell are you?” the Captain repeated.
“I know that voice,” Spradlin said. He closed his eyes and made a show of concentrating. “Captain Jonathan Elliot, right?”
The man Spradlin accurately identified was stunned into momentary silence.
“I asked you a question,” Captain Elliot said.
General Spradlin grinned. He motioned to his injured arm and bloody shirt.
“I could say I’m Captain Hook, minus his hook,” Spradlin replied. “But the fact is I’m the guy with your spy’s radio transmitter.”
Spradlin slowly reached out with his good hand. He showed the Captain the rectangular box he used to signal the submarine.
“Your man didn’t make it.”
The features on Captain Elliot’s face hardened.
“What happened to him?”
“He got into something he shouldn’t have,” General Spradlin replied. His features also hardened. “What he found killed him.”
“You…?”
“No,” General Spradlin said. “And neither did any of my people. Your boy released something that should have stayed locked up. That’s what killed him. It also killed every single soldier stationed at Bad Penny.”
Captain Elliot took a few seconds to digest this information.
“Ex…explain yourself,” he finally said.
“I’d rather do that with the individual who authorized this mission.”
Captain Elliot thought about the request but said nothing.
“Pardon the pun, but I’m a single unarmed man,” Spradlin said. “If you wanted to, you could shoot a few holes into this raft and watch as I sink to the bottom of the sea. After you’re sure I’m gone, you could spin your vessel around and return to England with your tail between your legs, hoping no one learns of your role in the death of over three hundred American soldiers.”
“We are not killers.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Spradlin said. “And I’m not here to start a war between our…friendly…governments. I’m here to have a chat with the man who sent your boy into Bad Penny.”
“He’s not here.”
“Captain Elliot, the time to play games is long past,” General Spradlin said. “I know more about the man who authorized this mission than even you do. He’s not the type to start something like this without being real close to see the results. So how about it, Elias? You're going to show your face?”
Captain Elliot took a step back. He considered his reply and was about to say something when…
“That will be all, Captain,” came a voice from somewhere within the interior of the conning tower. A shadowy figure appeared beside Captain Elliot. He laid a sympathetic hand on Captain Elliot’s shoulder.
“You may lower your weapons,” the shadowy figure told the crew. “Please throw a rope to our guest.”
One of the crewmembers did just that. General Spradlin grabbed the rope and was hauled to the submarine’s side. Other members of the crew helped General Spradlin onto the deck of the Avenger. Once on, they all stepped back and gave their unexpected guest his space.
The shadowy figure from the conning tower climbed down the ladder to the submarine’s deck. The man was elderly and almost skeletally thin. He dressed elegantly and his hair was white with age. His skin was very tan and his teeth were remarkably white and perfectly straight.
“Leave the deck,” the elderly man ordered the crewmembers.
As the crew withdrew into the submarine, General Spradlin couldn’t help but stare at the man before him. The first time they met, Elias Vulcan’s features were, to put it politely, complete shit. His hair was matted and filthy. His skin was burned red by the sun. His clothing, if you could call it that, consisted of rotting animal skins.
Much had changed since then, since Paul Spradlin was a Veteran of the First World War and relocated to Arizona, where he was elected Sheriff of a now forgotten small town. Back then, he looked forward to living the rest of his life in that town. Today, he couldn’t even remember its name.
“I wish I could say it was nice to see you again, Elias,” General Spradlin said.
Elias Vulcan’s eyes were hard.
“Is it true what you said about Bad Penny?”
“Yes.”
Vulcan was silent.
“Don’t tell me you actually care,” General Spradlin said.
“I was gathering information,” Vulcan said. No one was supposed to die.”
“If you hadn’t sent your agent to check in on me, they’d all be alive,” General Spradlin said.
“And if you didn’t keep everything from me,” Vulcan began. He shook his head. “You’re dealing with things far beyond your capacity. I gave you the gift, Spradlin. I did so because I thought we could work together for the common good. We’re two of a kind now. Like you, I want to save this world.”
“This planet is gone and you know it.”
“Have you given up, Paul?”
General Spradlin did not reply.
“No, you haven’t given up,” Vulcan said. “It’s not in you to do so. What are you up to? You fight their scouts, you devise weapons to kill them…but all you’re doing is getting rid of str
ays while and an army the size of the moon closes in. What is your goal?”
“That’s my concern.”
“Let me in,” Vulcan said. “Please.”
“I can’t do that, Elias,” General Spradlin said. “You’re one of them.”
“They haven’t contacted me in millennia,” Elias said. “I’ve been abandoned. I’m free.”
“The only difference between those ACUs and you is that you’ve been forgotten,” General Spradlin said. “With those three others, you were their beacon at the dawn of mankind. You watched us grow while keeping this planet lit up, should the armada somehow lose track of their next target in all that time.”
“I’m not in contact—”
“Not now,” General Spradlin said. “Your programming somehow adapted. It let you live while your companions died. I know this adaptation made you self-aware, and I know it allowed you to act more…human. But as much as you think yourself one of us, you aren’t. You outlived every person you ever came in contact with and the constant losses and loneliness made you yearn for company. You searched for your companions’ bodies, finding one of them in Arizona. You did your best to revive this…machine. You couldn’t. Whatever life it had left inside was nothing more than a dim spark. And then you had the brilliant idea to revive your companion by fusing it with a human body. Mine.”
General Spradlin gritted his teeth.
“Yes, you made me like you,” General Spradlin said. “But whatever changes were done, I remain human while you’re…you’re still a machine. All your adaptation doesn’t change the fact that you still belong to them. The moment they realize you exist, they’ll take back control. And when they do, you’ll be no better than the creatures that killed every soldier in Bad Penny.”
Elias Vulcan turned away from General Spradlin and stared at the sea. A breeze blew in from the west and the elderly man caught sight of a pair of seagulls circling overhead. They stared down at the strange sight below them before flying off in the direction of Bad Penny. As they flew by, they called out. Their squawks interrupted the gentle sounds of waves lapping against the submarine’s hull.
“You really think they’ll take me back?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“I don’t know. You’re an antique, Elias. You may well be obsolete. They might scrap you. If they don’t, they might send you to their next world, or the one after that. It won’t be long before you find out.”
The birds disappeared in the distance.
“This is a beautiful world,” Vulcan said after a while.
“It is.”
“I hope it stays that way for as long…as long as possible,” Vulcan said.
The elderly man reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He handed it to General Spradlin. General Spradlin opened the envelope and found a letter. It was directed to the letter writer’s mother.
“What’s this?” Spradlin asked.
“A parting gift,” Vulcan said. “Examine it closely. All of it.”
General Spradlin folded the letter and pocked it.
“You’re right,” Vulcan said after a while. “We shouldn’t see each other again. Not if there’s a chance...” Vulcan paused. “I hope…I hope you’re wrong. I hope you can save this world. I’ve grown very fond of it.”
With that, Elias Vulcan walked back to the conning tower and climbed to its top. He descended into the submarine.
General Spradlin returned to his rubber boat. After a few minutes, the submarine slowly began moving back toward Bad Penny.
When they were within a couple of hundred feet from the island, General Spradlin released the rope holding his boat to the sub.
He rowed the rest of the way back to shore.
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
On a busy street in downtown London a plainly dressed middle aged woman stepped past the shops lining the street. Her goal was to move past these crowds and reach her home, but she stopped when she noted the headlines from papers displayed in the corner newsstand. Those newspapers were filled with front page headlines regarding arrangements for the funeral of the U.S. Vice-President. His sudden death the past week was hardly a surprise given his reported declining health.
Eulogies poured in from all corners of the world. A few were genuinely heartfelt, but most read like polite courtesy. Around the world, the Vice-President was even less popular than the current U.S. President. He was viewed at home and abroad as the power behind the power and his off the cuff, unscripted remarks regarding any number of topics caused the administration considerable embarrassment.
They wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore.
The lady’s eyes, hard and shiny like porcelain, scanned the headlines. In their rush to out-report each other, the papers for the most part missed the fact that the Vice-President’s personal physician had also passed away. The physician’s death, listed only in a couple of obituaries the middle-aged woman found on the internet, noted his was due to a skiing accident.
Another lie.
The lady read some more. The other big news was the downing of a U.S. Military Transport craft off the east coast of the United States. Mechanical error was blamed for that tragedy which resulted in the deaths of over three hundred U.S. soldiers. To date, few remains were found.
She left the newsstand and crossed the street, walking south for a few blocks before reaching the downstairs entrance to her loft. She held her right hand tight over her purse and rapidly climbed the stairs to the second floor. Once there, she removed her apartment keys from her bag and used them to gain entry to the apartment. It was sparse and comfortable, consisting of a living room, a kitchen, and a single bedroom and bathroom.
The lady stepped into the living room and drew the curtains. The apartment became as dark as it was quiet. She sat down before the table and laid her purse on it. From within, she pulled out the letter. It was addressed to her post office box and contained no return address. Despite this, she knew it was from her son.
The lady made no effort to open the envelope. Instead, she laid it down in front of her. Ever so gently, she rubbed her fingers over its right corner, directly over the postage stamp.
To the casual eye, the image on the stamp, a stoic portrait of Queen Elizabeth, seemed to come alive. The delicate lines that made up her face rolled away, becoming nothing more than an ugly smudge of aquamarine blue. The lady’s finger froze in place. The colored smudge moved closer and closer to her finger until it seeped into the pores of her skin. In seconds, the smudge was gone. The postage stamp now had a bright white oval in its center and no image of the Queen.
The lady moved her hand away. The nano-robots embedded in the stamp had done their job and the information stored within their memory was downloaded directly into her. She replayed those images, seeing herself put these special stamps in her son’s apartment. She placed nano-robots in several other locations but the stamp was the fail-safe. If he didn’t make it back, neither would the nano-robots embedded in his clothing and gear.
Her son was a curious sort. He had a love/hate relationship with his mother, something that the elderly woman’s programming found difficult to adapt to and emulate. At times, the programming opined that he would discover the substitution, in which case the old lady would take over her “son’s” identity, eliminating him as it had done to the agent’s real mother. In two years, though, this action proved unnecessary. When she discovered her son’s next mission would be Bad Penny, it became imperative that whatever he learn there be revealed to her. Despite their latest arguments, she insisted he write, to tell her all was well. Guilt was a good incentive and investment. It paid off.
Through the images and audio in the nano-robots on the envelope’s stamp, the elderly lady relived her son’s final days, starting with his packing. She watched as she grabbed the stamps and stuff them into her son’s backpack. The following day passed in darkness. She heard voices, usually hushed tones, nothing she could identify. She fast forwarde
d those images, until her son confronted the Avenger’s Captain.
Darkness became light as her son removed the letter from his backpack and affixed one of the stamps on it. She saw the Captain and her son. She heard him plead for the Captain to send the letter should he not make it. The man was hesitant, but she knew he would relent. The fact that she had her son’s letter proved this.
A small portion of her programming noted her current identity was no longer needed.
The submarine’s Captain eventually put her son’s letter in his shirt pocket and everything went dark again. Luckily, the letter shifted and the nano-robots made out hazy images past the shirt’s cloth. She followed the Captain’s dull routine after her son disembarked. The man drank an awful lot of coffee while he waited for her son’s return.
Then they received the radio signal. The Captain and his crew were, at first, very excited. Their mission was accomplished and they could finally return home. The submarine surfaced amid good cheer. But instead of finding her son on his boat, they found...someone else.
The mood within the sub turned very grim. The Captain hurried to the conning tower and gazed out at sea, toward the boat that should have carried her son. It was a stranger, a man who spoke with an American accent. She used her best image enhancement programs to make out his features, but other than the fact that he was missing his right hand and his shirt was bloody from that injury, she could not make out details of the American’s face.
She allowed the information to play out in real time as the Captain questioned the one handed man. They talked for a little bit.
Query: Who is Captain Hook?
The images and sounds moved onward. Clearly, the one handed man knew more about the submarine and her secret mission than the Captain thought possible. There was great tension, and the Captain’s heart beat rapidly.
And then the stranger appeared. He climbed up the conning tower and took control of the situation.