by Kyle Noe
“If it ain’t the queen bee herself,” Xan said, barking a nasty laugh.
“What you said before was true,” Quinn said, ignoring Xan, bobbing her head in Mira’s direction. “We were traitors. We made a deal with the devil and we’ve got to live with that. But I think we can all agree that we’ve got to put that and all of our other differences aside.”
“We don’t agree on shit,” Mira said, spitting at the ground.
Quinn took stock of those gathered before her. She could see the anger, the distrust in the faces of the resistance fighters. Sure, Xan had hidden a bomb in the totem and almost blown them up, but most of the other fighters probably didn’t know about that. What they did know about was that the Marines had sided with the Syndicate and killed some of their compatriots, which was probably an unforgivable sin in their eyes.
“That isn’t true,” Quinn replied, in response to Mira. “There are things we do agree on. We love our country and our world, and we want to kick the bitter piss out of the people that wrecked it.”
A few of the resistance fighters nodded and Quinn could sense the temperature in the room lowering. Quinn looked to Samantha who nodded and then turned back to Mira and the other resistance fighters.
“I speak for all of the Marines when I say we’re sorry for what we did,” Quinn said, swinging her gaze to Comerford. “We had no choice, but that doesn’t excuse what we did. But right now the only thing that matters is taking the fight to the enemy. When we were on the command ship they gave us orders to destroy Shiloh and we wouldn’t do it. That’s why we escaped. That’s why we’re here. The only way we can move forward and defeat the aliens is if we join forces.”
Cody started clapping before Quinn flung a nasty look his way and he stopped, turning his gaze to the ground. Comerford, Mackie, and the other resistance fighters turned to Giovanni who’d been listening silently.
“What say?” Mackie asked.
“She’s right,” Giovanni replied.
“Would you trust them with your life?” Hawkins asked.
Giovanni registered this and smiled. “I already have.”
Hawkins strode forward. “Assuming we want to throw in with you,” he said, “who’s taking the wheel.”
“I’d propose two chains of command,” Quinn replied. “One for the Marines, and one for your people.”
“You in charge?” Hawkins asked.
Quinn shook her head and pointed to Hayden. “Not as long as Papa bear’s in the house.”
Hayden nodded, folding his massive arms across his chest. “And for your people?” he asked.
Hawkins pointed to Giovanni. “He’s the only one who knows both sides. I’d throw in with Gio any day of the week.”
Mackie smiled and nodded, even as Mira and Xan grumbled.
“We don’t need sides anymore,” Giovanni said. “We need an alliance. And we do it like we used to do with everything. We vote.”
“Who’s for joining forces?” Mackie asked.
Comerford, Mackie, Hawkins and most of the resistance fighters raised their hands along with Eli, the civilians, all of the Marines, and Samantha. Xan, Mira, and four other resistance fighters hesitated, then slowly raised their hands as well.
“That settles it,” Comerford said. “But let’s be clear about one thing. We’re equals in this. We’ve got much respect for what you bring to the table, but the resistance does not answer to the Marines. Understood?”
Quinn and the Marines nodded.
“Okay, so now that that’s settled,” Comerford said, “what’s the plan?”
Cody set the golden cube on a table between everyone and gestured to Hawkins. “Kill the lights please.”
The lights went out and darkness washed over everything. At first, Quinn couldn’t see her hand in front of her face and then she heard it. The humming sound coming from the golden cube. A few seconds of silence and then a fitful phosphorescence enveloped the cube before—
WONK!
A swirl of yellow light flooded the room, momentarily blinding Quinn. She reached over and spotted Samantha and took her by the hand. Together they watched as something coalesced out of the light. A string of indecipherable letters emerged in a circle that hovered in the air. Samantha held up a finger, tracing the outline of several letters, her skin tickled by the motes of dust that danced in the golden light.
“You all remember hearing about the ‘New Math’ when you were back in school? This is some twisted version of Lincos. Basically, it’s the ‘Old Math’ which has become what you might call a universal language. This is code,” Cody said, “it’s stellar coordinates, an ephemeris of sorts, a star map.”
“To where?” Comerford asked.
“The location of the fourth temporal totem. The one that likely contains the trajectory to the mechanism that the Syndicate uses for temporal travel … their time ship.”
“How the hell do you know that?” one of the resistance fighters asked.
“Because I was the Syndicate’s resident scientist for several months. I was privy to secret information,” Cody said.
“So tell me why we should care about this ship,” Hawkins said.
“Because that’s how the Syndicate resupplies itself with weapons from the future,” Cody answered. “At least that’s what I gathered from snooping around on the command ship.”
“Why would they even need to do that?” Hawkins asked. “They’ve got the advantage.”
“Maybe not,” Cody said. “Not if we find a way to get to and disrupt the time ship. We could change the course of events, and they might be afraid of that.”
Xan flashed a nasty look at Cody. “I don’t understand anything about this time travel crap.”
“I’m shocked to hear that, ma’am,” Cody replied.
“Don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ That’s a pretty damned serious faux pas in my book,” Xan hissed, in reply.
“I’m amazed,” Cody said.
“At the faux pas?”
“No, that you even know what the word means.”
Xan pulled back a fist to strike Cody, but Mackie grabbed and held her. The others watched silently as Cody manipulated the letters by touch, transforming them into recognizable methods of measurement. Azimuth, inclination, radius. Cody’s fingers danced like a concert pianist as he conjured holographic planets and celestial bodies out of the darkness, before tracing a direct route from Earth to a speck in the middle of the map that flowed orange.
Quinn held up a finger and gestured at the glowing, orange speck. “What is that?”
Cody grinned. “That, my friends, is the final destination. A Syndicate outpost on an ice asteroid called Hygiea.”
“So we need to find a way to blow it up?” Hawkins asked, which received murmurs of approval from some of the other resistance fighters.
Cody shook his head. “No, that would barely put a dent in the Syndicate’s forces. We need more intel from the totem. If we’re smart, we’ll work to find the location of the time ship. If we’re really smart, we’ll find the location of the ship and a way to hijack it.”
Cody clapped his hands and the light disappeared as darkness enveloped the room once again. The lights were flicked back on and everyone stared at each other in silence. Quinn traded looks with the Marines and the resistance fighters. “So we know what we need to do. The only question is how to do it.”
Giovanni nodded. “I say we do a weapons and systems check and head out in twenty-four hours after we’ve had time to prep.”
“Prep what? An attack on that goddamn asteroid?” Mira asked.
“You got a better idea?” Renner asked. “Didn’t you hear Quinn? The scuds gave us orders to attack this place. There’s no telling how long they’ll wait to do it themselves.”
Xan shook her head. “How do we know what kind of defenses the ice asteroid has?”
Stopping another squabble in its tracks, Cody interjected. “I think we can safely assume it will be well defended.”
Mira gla
red at Cody. “So maybe a division of scuds and a few dozen of their battle ‘bots?”
“At least,” Cody said.
“Can you expand on that?” Comerford asked.
Cody frowned. “Sure. There will likely be hundreds of Syndicate soldiers guarding the position along with all manner of mechanized drones and other killing machines. The odds of us successfully storming Hygiea and finding the totem and making it off are statistically nil.”
Comerford’s face fell and Quinn groaned.
“What?” Cody said. “He asked me to expand.”
“Whatever,” Renner said, thumping his chest. “More of the bad guys just means more targets.”
Xan shook her head. “You’re gonna need your own army to assault that ice ball, short round.”
“We already got one,” Hayden said. “Five Marines are equal to fifty of you people.”
“Enough,” Giovanni said, waving a hand. “We’re all on the same side now. The path forward isn’t an easy one. Nobody ever said it would be. But if we want to change the direction of the battle, we need to hit the Syndicate while they’re not expecting it. The glider can hold eighteen, so the Marines will lead the assault, but we’ll need an additional ten fighters. It’s either that or we sit around, down here in a hole, playing with ourselves, waiting for them to find a way to come and get us.”
A few mutters of agreement spread through the room like wildfire.
“Fuck it, man, I’m in,” Mackie said, raising a fist.
“Me too,” Hawkins replied.
Several other resistance fighters also raised their hands and then slowly a cheer built until nearly everyone in the room was shouting, bellowing, ready to take the fight to the invaders.
The meeting adjourned and the Marines and resistance separated to plan and prepare for the upcoming mission. Samantha, who’d yet to be introduced formally to all of those who’d disembarked from the alien glider, stopped the nerdy looking guy who’d given the presentation.
“That was a cool presentation,” she said.
Cody grinned. “I’m psyched that you liked it.”
“Who are you?” Samantha asked.
“I’m the guy that saved the day. I’m the one that helped everyone escape from the alien command ship,” Cody replied.
“Can’t be. Some awesome doctor dude named Cody did that.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cody said, extending a hand. “I’m Cody.”
“Wow. So you’re really him, huh?”
Cody nodded. “Impressed?”
Samantha sized him up, staring at his spindly arms and the way his jacket seemed to be draped over him, as if he was a mannequin. “No offense, but I’m pretty sure I could beat you up, Doctor Cody.”
“It’s just Cody. Not really into titles,” he said, with a warm voice. “And I get that a lot.” He reached out to pat Samantha on the head but stopped short, as if he hadn’t earned the right to be so informal yet, and continued down the corridor instead.
Quinn approached and sidled up next to her daughter, as Samantha watched the frail looking man disappear, wondering how someone like him could have done so much, then glanced back at her mother. “So that’s the guy you’ve got your eye on, huh?”
Quinn nodded.
“He’s totally not your type, mom.”
Quinn frowned. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, for one, I’m pretty sure I have bigger biceps than he does.”
Quinn took this in and then burst out in laughter, and Samantha smiled, glad to see her laughing. It was something that, not long ago, she had wondered if she’d ever see or hear again. Now, she knew she was as safe as she could be in this messed up world, with her mom at her side.
Giovanni returned to his room, the sparse walls reminding him how fleeting life could be. Their mission could all go to shit and he’d be gone, no sign of him remaining. Someone else would walk right in here and never know he even existed, see no sign of who he once was. Damn, that thought was depressing. But at least Luke would remember him as long as he was still alive.
He lay back on his cot for a minute, his thoughts spiraling into an endless whirlpool of darkness. Finally, he sat up and said Fuck that. He wasn’t some chump to lose himself to depression, he was a badass who was going to take down the Syndicate.
And he wasn’t alone.
He pulled out the sheet of plexiglass from his pack, tapped the corner, and pulled up Luke’s picture. For a second he just stared at it, then pressed call.
Part of him almost didn’t want Luke to answer, because then he could just wallow in his negativity and be able to complain that he had tried, and failed, to reach out. But no, Luke was a better man than to not answer a call from Giovanni. And so, when his face appeared on the screen, a bit blurred because of the distance and interference between the two, his smile spread across his face in the comforting way that made Giovanni feel like he had never had a concern in the world.
Everything was perfect for that brief moment.
“You finally called,” Luke said, then winked. “’The hell took so long?”
Giovanni sighed and chuckled. “Man, you don’t know what it’s like here sometimes.”
“Yes, Gio, you’re the only one who has a stressful life. This whole invasion and the death and all that, none of it compares to your boredom.”
“Wow, for someone who’s happy to see me, you’re sure bringing the sass today.”
“Sorry.” Luke looked over his shoulder, held up a finger to someone behind him, and said, “It’s been a long day here too, but tell me about you. What’s going on?”
“A big mission, got me thinking is all.”
“You sure you weren’t feeling guilty? Maybe messing around with some of those big, tough Marines?”
“That’s not funny, Luke.” Giovanni leaned in, dead serious. “You know I only have eyes for you. No distance, no war, no nothing can separate us. Not emotionally.”
“Hey, after this is all over… you ever thought about, I don’t know. Hawaii? Maybe we can make it happen?”
“A trip? You’re planning our first real date now?” Luke laughed. “No, I like it. Really. What about the pantheon, stuff like that? You think it still exists?”
Giovanni frowned. “Actually, I’d heard the Syndicate hasn’t really touched a lot of that stuff. Guess they aren’t the Nazis, at least. You know, not stealing human art or whatever.”
“So you’ll consider Greece then?” Luke looked hopeful.
“This is all hypothetical, so sure. If we survive all this, and the Syndicate hasn’t destroyed everything or taken our monuments and art for their private collections, it’s a deal.”
“Okay, I gotta go,” Luke said, after another quick glance over his shoulder. “Vegas is growing old, but I’ll be heading north tomorrow.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Giovanni said, then kissed his hand and touched it to the screen.
They said good bye, and when Giovanni had put away the glass, he closed his eyes, unsure how to process everything going on, but now feeling totally okay with it.
4
The Enemy’s Den
The mood in the Syndicate command ship was somber. Ostensibly, the Potentate had suffered a significant loss with the escape of Quinn and the Marines and the resulting uprising and explosion, which had damaged significant portions of the vessel.
General Aames had quashed the revolt and restored order, but only after the aliens had suffered significant casualties. Yet, what really upset him was how quiet the Potentate had been at their setbacks.
The General and Marin stood at a distance, watching the Potentate examine footage of both the escape by the Marines and the resulting conflagration. They were both petrified, not wanting to utter a word, not wanting to be the first to suffer the Potentate’s wrath.
“Sometimes in the waves of change we find our true direction,” the Potentate finally said.
General Aames cleared his throat. “Sir?”
The Potentate rose up and looked back to him. “Do you know what true discovery is, General?”
General Aames looked to Marin, then shook his head.
“It is seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what nobody else has thought.”
“I don’t understand, sir.”
“You both think we’ve suffered a loss, do you not?”
General Aames and Marin nodded slowly.’
“And yet, there is no need to fear, for this, all of it, was part of my plan.”
“Begging your pardon, sir, but might we not do better if we, if all of us, understood exactly what that plan is?” the General asked.
“You want to see what I’ve seen?” the Potentate asked.
The General and Marin nodded. The Potentate had asked the same questions dozens of times before in other loops of time. But never had he actually shown either the faintest hints of the other loops, of the many failures, of the terrible things the future had in store for all of them.
He turned and Hadrian, the Magi, appeared as if conjured up out of thin air. His presence startled General Aames and Marin. They’d both seen Hadrian lurking around before, but never had they been this close to him. The Potentate watched as Hadrian appeared to drift around the room, his features mutable, seeming to flicker and change with every second.
For a moment, he resembled a wizened man, then a young boy, and a seductress. The woman’s body almost instantly underwent a radical and visible alteration, a veil pulled back across her face as she morphed into some horrid construct as tall and thin as a church steeple, a thing that wore a bird-like mask and a waxed canvas gown from neck to ankle.
This image flashed and then Hadrian’s visage returned to that of the seductress, the raven-haired woman with a knowing smile and flesh seemingly carved from marble.
Hadrian lifted up a supple hand. “There is an old saying that everything one needs to know is already inside them,” Hadrian cooed. “That the secrets of the universe are revealed in your code, in your DNA. If only that were true.”
Hadrian raised two fingers and began spinning them. The movement of the fingers caused a disturbance in the air, a mini-cyclone that fused into a string of smoke that resembled a long snake. The smoke eddied and then merged with particles of dust swirling in the air, sparking tendrils of light that Hadrian gathered up in one hand as if some kind of magical sculptor.