“Well, that went well,” said Pel.
Corey smiled a half-smile and looked up from the message display hovering in front of him. It disappeared.
“Yeah, guess we did a London on him,” said Corey. “We should have just stuck to mom’s part of the story.”
“You think?”
“Well you started it! I thought we weren’t going to mention-”
“I know, I know,” said Pel. “I’m sorry about that, but then you started in on the Foon.”
Corey sighed. “Do you think I’m too monkeyed out on Reena about this? I mean…”
“Tude, this is a shitload of strange circumstances. We just gotta do what we gotta do; this gig is on hold for us. I can’t stay here any more than you can. If mom...when mom makes it through, we can decide our next move. We might be right back for the Martian leg of the tour if Ari doesn’t blow an O-ring and we can somehow get a high-speed.”
Corey put his arms on the table, and his head in his arms.
“I love you, brother,” he said.
* * *
That night at the Rochaus should have been a disaster. There was about as much chemistry in the band as in a moon rock. The crowd was great, though, and Jon was amazing, so they had that going for them. He launched into an unplanned drum solo after the first set, which got the audience going crazy. Corey remarked to Jon after the set, that whatever he wanted to do from now on was totally approved. After the show, they were approached by Mark Jondess, whose message had not been returned by Corey.
“There they are, the Jagger-Seven boys!” exclaimed Jondess, with an extended hand to Corey. “I understand we need to talk.”
Corey and Pel sat down with him and hashed out the entire scenario involving their mother, pleading with him to understand their situation. They were careful not to mention anything about the Foon. Jondess agreed, which surprised them because they didn’t have a favorable impression of him up to this point. He really didn’t strike them as someone who cared so much about something as trivial as family connections. Still, he was kind enough, and now he seemed to be a real person with feelings, one who understood what they were going through. Corey thought that maybe they had finally found him sober.
“I can get another band in here, you guys, that’s not a problem. They won’t be The Cosmotix though,” he said with a smile, and the boys sensed that he really thought their act was a contender. “Do what you have to do. Corey, check your mail, though. I’m going to need a few signatures and a couple swipes.”
“No problem, Mark, and thank you,” said Corey.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Jondess,” Pel said, extending his hand. Jondess ignored the hand and gave Pel a hug, then hugged Corey as well.
“You boys are special,” he whispered in Corey’s ear. With that he walked away, and what was done was done.
Corey turned to Pel. “Thought that would be harder.”
“Me too. Smack night tonight, tude! But one thing missing.”
“What?”
“Your girl didn’t come in. I think it might be over.”
“Yeah, probably. Well, there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” Corey gave a punch to Pel’s chest.
“Haha, well that one was a trophy Marlin!”
“She said she was doing something with her family.”
“So we’re out at the end of the week?”
“Yep. Heading for Earth, little brother.” Corey looked over at Jim, who was wiping the bar down. “Wonder what he’s gonna do.”
“He has vacation time coming, he told me. He’s excited to be getting out of here.”
“I haven’t seen Jim get excited yet. He’s-”
Corey stopped talking abruptly, and his face stiffened. He put a hand on Pel’s shoulder to steady himself but went down to his knees.
“Corey? Corey, what is it? Are you ok?” Pel was on his knees, with his arm around Corey’s shoulder. “C’mon, look at me. Corey, look at me!”
He tapped his brother’s face a couple times and Corey blinked, then sat down on his feet. He looked Pel in the eyes.
“I just saw mom.”
“What? You saw her? Or thought of her, what do you mean?”
“I was right there. She was…dead.”
13
A DAY IN HISTORY
President Andrew Cardigan adjusted his necktie and flashed his teeth in the mirror. Today was a day that history would remember, and Washington DC was buzzing with foreign leaders, dignitaries, and the media in anticipation of the first World Meeting regarding the approach of the Foon. As a member of the World Tribunal, Cardigan would be addressing the heads of state of all twenty-seven countries on Earth, as well as the leaders of the Moon and Martian states. The Foon of Ceres2 were invited to this conference but declined. Regardless of security promises made by United Earth, the Foon were afraid to be there.
“Five minutes, Mr. President,” came the announcement from his personal assistant, Rony Kessler. “The motorcade is hovering.”
Cardigan took a sip of coffee, looked at his notes one more time, and turned to greet the much younger Kessler and Chief of Staff Uma Shankar with a nervous smile.
“It’s showtime!” he exclaimed, followed by an awkward laugh.
Following protocol, President Cardigan touched his belt buckle as they left the White House, and a translucent shield surrounded him as he walked. A hop and a step up the ramp and he was aboard Skycar One, which would take him to NAT, the North American Tower.
As the motorcade lifted into the air, Cardigan looked at his notes.
“Give me the final,” he said.
“Mr. President, let’s recap the current situation,” said Secretary of Defense Allwyn Mobasi. “All polls are indicating strong fear of the approach among the top ten percent of business income earners and military leaders. They want an aggressive defensive stand. They’re not afraid of defeat necessarily; they’re afraid of panic, so they want the public to see a winning team. Entertainers and sports figures are still low, only thirty-eight percent support the Defense First Initiative. They still want a negotiation team to launch and intervene diplomatically, as do the majority of the other six countries. Those are Australia, Antarctica, Canada, Greater Russia, Middle East Republic and the United States of South America. We recommend strong eye contact with each of those leaders during paragraph three; it’s marked for you.”
Cardigan looked his Secretary of Defense in the eye. “We are going to need a voice on this; we need a face...this is certainly going to come to a World Vote.” He paused, and his forehead wrinkled. “How the hell did this get leaked so quickly?”
“Beginning descent,” came the call from the cockpit. President Cardigan had an idea, but it was time to focus on the task at hand. This would be a difficult speech, followed by an unpredictable meeting of the minds.
Skycar One descended onto the landing platform of the NAT building, and the presidential entourage disembarked, with Cardigan once again deploying the body shield.
UE Service agents led and followed the president as he descended the walk ramp into the top floor of the building. A few dozen handshakes, a touch of make-up, a last word from his Chief of Staff, and President Andrew Cardigan took the podium.
“Ladies and gentlemen, United Earth, world leaders, members of the press, thank you for coming today. We find ourselves in a truly unprecedented situation, and it is my intention to help galvanize this body behind the leadership of Chinese President Tito Kwong, Middle East Republic Prime Minister Abdul Rosenstein and myself, as the acting United Earth Tribunal. We realize that this is a Tribunal election year and that the three of us have had a few rough spots, but I assure you, politics will not play a part in the discussions or planning of our next move. We have one mission, that is to ascertain if we indeed are facing a threat, and if so, determine how to deal with it effectively.
“Let me start by addressing the top questions collected throughout the solsys by the SmartFace polls. Number one is, ‘How do we know this
is the Foon, and how do we know they are hostile?’ I call upon UE Science Director of Deep Space Observation, Admiral Naila Watts.”
Admiral Watts stood up and moved forward, with complete command of the room. This wasn’t her first time weighing in on a situation that involved the Solsys, and she was usually right. She had the respect of the assembly.
“Misters President and this body, thank you. The signal we received and have been tracking since last week is coming from deep space, and its origin follows the same vector as the Foon craft we received in 2141. I believe Piper Olig made a very wise decision at that time to launch a Telcom bump sequence at high speed along that same trajectory; otherwise we probably would not know this was happening now.
“The ion displacement signature we are seeing in the wake of this formation is somewhat identical to the signature of the original Foon ship. This gives us bread that we are indeed being approached by the Foon. However, we are noticing advancements over the original signature. I wish to be on the record to say that we are concerned about the advancements.”
“Please elaborate, Admiral Watts.”
“To fully understand what I’m about to say, one needs to know the nature of dark matter, cold light telescopes and how we study movement in space, Misters President. I’ll spare you that, but let me start by saying that we’re seeing a fluctuation in their incoming speed that, since we have been tracking, has been consistent with a propulsion idea that is only theoretical to us. We have tracked them at tenth-light, quarter light, half-light, and just under full light, at regular intervals. They may be executing an unproven propulsion principle known as the Inchworm Effect, and if that’s what they’re doing, they seem to be pretty good at it.”
“The Inchworm Effect?” Cardigan was intrigued.
“Yes, sir. Some call it the Slingshot. It was first theorized when we opened LOPTA, the Lunar Orbiting Particle-Time Accelerator, fourteen years ago. We can save all that for another day, but I want to point out that we aren’t just guessing here, we think we know what we’re seeing. It’s a way of generating speed by disassembling and reassembling space/time.”
“Yes?” Cardigan barked. He didn’t need a dramatic buildup. “And that means? Forgive me; we have to be very clear here.”
“Misters President, it is possible that they have the ability to travel at light speed and beyond.”
That brought a roar to the assembly. Cardigan let a few seconds pass for all present to say their piece to each other.
“Order! Calm down, everyone. Order!”
The roar became a din, and the din subsided. All eyes were looking forward as the room went quiet.
Cardigan continued. “The obvious question is, if they are invading and can travel at light speed, why aren’t they? Right?”
“No sir, with respect. Light speed, according to this theory, can only be achieved after a systematic buildup, switching between analog and hyper-quantum propulsion. That makes it hard to calculate their arrival, but if they stay with their current cycling pattern after they have broken light speed, it won’t be three or four months. They could be here in six weeks.”
Once again, the assembly grumbled.
Watts looked around the room, then continued. “As to whether they are hostile, it’s hard to say. The size of the approaching armada suggests that they are. If planet Heeg was in distress, it could be taken as an evacuation, but there is no indication of that. I promise my team is still efforting all this every second, looking for any high-speed weapon testing, training maneuvers, and so forth…anything to suggest hostility. We are on it, sir,” she promised.
“Is there any indication they have detected our Telcom buoys, Admiral? Have they attempted to communicate at all?”
“No, and no, sir. They are silent.”
“Thank you, Admiral Watts,” Cardigan said, and there was a polite applause throughout the assembly.
“For the next question,” Cardigan announced, “please welcome Chinese President and Tribunal member Tito Kwong.”
There was an enthusiastic reaction as President Kwong took the podium, and with his hands he gestured for it to subside, which it did.
“Thank you very much…the number two question,” Kwong began, “is ‘why are we not talking to the Foon on Ceres2?’ I address the Martian senator from Cydonia, Blad Urban-Six.”
A short gentleman wearing a yukata and a turban stood up.
“Misters President, as you know, I am not only a senator but an attorney in several Martian provinces. My father earned the task of representing the Foon immigrants, and it is my responsibility to reassert the original agreement, that under no circumstances can anyone representing UE land on or otherwise occupy Ceres2. There is no gray area on this. These people have a God-given impediment to social interaction outside their race, and we made a binding agreement. Are we clear?”
“Mr. Urban-Six,” Kwong replied, “with the fate of the Earth/Moon and her colonies at stake, we cannot be clear on anything. This matter is already being investigated by the Supreme Court, and if a warrant is delivered, it will be executed. Next question.”
That brought the best applause of the meeting, and it went on like that through ten rounds, thirty questions in all. Some were easy to answer, others not, but the system worked, and the meeting was considered a success. Addressing the questions of citizens throughout the solar system, filtered through an algorithm that gave priority to the most popular, was democracy at its best, and very effective.
The President ordered a closed-door session with six world leaders after the Tribunal inquiry. It had become apparent that there were two fundamentally different viewpoints on how to handle the approach: a diplomatic olive branch or a hard-defensive posture. Cardigan was a strong proponent of the latter, and he needed to find out who was on his side. One of the bright spots in the meeting was Yolanda Murillo, Presidenta de Los Estados Unidos Mexicanos, whose expertise as a public relations mogul prior to her political career was apparently going to be very useful. If the divide between viewpoints deepened, it would eventually lead to a World Vote, and Cardigan’s defensive plan would need to reach the masses effectively.
The biggest issue facing the military was that humans had fought very little in space. During the New Birth, when space exploration was booming, warships were used to protect the perimeters of the individual colonies, but they weren’t needed much. Humanity had, for the most part, made peace. But even before the arrival of the Foon, HICON teleradio had verified the existence of alien life in the galaxy, so it was mandated that UE build up a space-stationed military. The highest-ranking Space Force leader at present was USRA Six Star General James “Mac” McCalvin, a no-nonsense warrior who was sharp and highly organized, but admittedly rough around the edges. If Cardigan was to get his way, Mac would be the fleet leader.
* * *
President Cardigan got very little sleep that night. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, while his lovely wife Thalia slept. The task at hand was formidable, and sleepless nights were undoubtedly in store for him in the near future. UE would need as much long-range sensor intel as possible as the ships got closer, and determination of the Foon military capability would be essential to planning a defensive strategy. How to determine that was still unclear. The current outer space military training was not enough now, so it needed to be stepped up. He was leaving that to McCalvin to coordinate with the Chinese and Russians. His chief concern, however, was maintaining the people’s confidence in the Tribunal leadership and in the power of the United Earth’s Armed Forces to keep everyone safe.
Cardigan thought about the Dark Days, and what that must have been like...a world not at war, but at a breaking point.
The Dark Days.
After the Three-Year War, the people of Earth experienced a peaceful period lasting almost twenty-five years. It was a time when no army on the planet dared to raise arms against another. The world was exhausted of war, of politics, of thugs murdering innocents in the name of their skew
ed vision of God and territory, and it seemed that humanity could finally embrace a better society, a world of peace and harmony.
It was a bittersweet victory though, in that the war and all that came with it had been fully revealed to most everyone on the planet through multiple media, and they had been glued to it. Terrifying graphic images were the daily headlines; the everyday spilling of blood was must-see entertainment during that time, and it took a toll on the collective psyche of humanity. People had become numb.
Kindness and integrity had slipped away, replaced by indifference to others and the need for power and position, whatever the cost. Racism and religious hatred skyrocketed, and clashes and riots were an everyday thing and seen by everyone. The thinking was simple: the only reason to exist is to dominate, to win, and it became so embedded in people’s lives that they were desensitized to the damage it was doing. It was normal. War was gone, but hatred was alive and well.
But those weren’t the Dark Days.
There were other dilemmas brewing. One was that the logistics of living on Earth together had reached a breaking point, and there were simply too many people with too little hope for a better life. Capitalism had reached a critical mass and was becoming unsustainable with the boom in technology and the increasing population.
Because of technological progress, corporations were delivering massive returns to their stockholders while eliminating overhead, which of course meant jobs. The rich were getting richer, but former middle-class people were living in multi-family homes, living off food and animals from the back yard and trading with each other for products and services. Meanwhile, major companies were thriving by serving those, and only those who could afford their products and services.
Cars, trucks, and trains were built by machines and driven automatically, planes and ships as well. School teachers gave way to the new Extreme Internet system, the predecessor to Telcom. Robots cooked and served food, managed retail outlets, put out fires and served as police; products were ordered online and built by Home Manufacturing System machines. Houses and buildings were built by robots and nanobots, controlled by satellites.
The Cosmotix 2198 Page 12