Ham and Jenn joined him on the stage. Having counseled with them in their decision to return to Earth, he understood the mixed emotions on their faces. They were not candidates for pairing with the colonists, and they were committed to their family and their work as teachers. The very traits that would have made them valuable assets to a new community on Ahlemon were their reasons for wanting to return home.
Tensions were already rising in the crowd, with Marshall fueling the fire as he argued for whom, other than himself, should stay behind on Ahlemon. The two colonists and two Mekens assigned to the first return trip were a definite sore spot with the group. Surprisingly, Marshall defended their inclusion. “We need them to authenticate our story; they have to be on this first trip. It’s nonnegotiable.”
While what Marshall said was essentially true, Tygert questioned the man’s motives; he suspected there was a business opportunity that Marshall could leverage by having the colonists and Mekens on Earth.
“But do we really need two of each?” someone asked.
This seemed like a reasonable question, and it generated some discussion among the Matan council members and the two Colony ambassadors who were with them on the stage. Jhemna called for everyone’s attention.
“Two Mekens are a minimum requirement in order to prepare Earth’s suspension arrays for a return Push to Ahlemon. However, we have agreed that one colonist is sufficient to act as an Ahlemoni ambassador to Earth. Ohna shall go,” Jhemna said. Ohna, an elder who had been trained for statesmanship, stood next to him. She nodded to the crowd. “This leaves room for an additional passenger.”
At the same time, in the back of the auditorium, Sam had been engaged in a discourse with a builder, and he waved his hand to get everyone’s attention.
“I’ve been reviewing the aircraft blueprints with a builder, and we’ve determined that we can make a structural modification that will allow us to strap the two Mekens in an upright position, making space for two additional passengers.”
“We should draw straws,” someone interjected.
Marshall reacted to this idea by immediately pointing out several people and appointing them to stay—he obviously didn’t want his place to be subject to chance. Angers flared. A resentful soccer player launched himself at Marshall but was restrained by several of his companions. Others started making similar nominations, and then counter nominations were made, resulting in nothing but shouting matches. No one was volunteering to stay.
Tygert watched, a knot growing in his gut. His mandatory presence on the first trip back to Earth had given him immunity, and he didn’t feel comfortable making any recommendations about who should stay behind. He was considering how to intervene when Dr. Manassa stepped forward.
“Quiet! Please, quiet!”
No one heard him. Moving to the front of the stage, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Stop!”
This caught their attention, and the crowd quieted.
“Thank you. If you will, please allow me to offer some perspective.” He paused, gathering his thoughts, then went on. “Think with me for a moment. What if the human race on Earth was facing certain extinction? Consider what is lost when an entire race just ceases to exist. Thousands of years of history. All of its culture, art, and beauty. All of its accumulated knowledge. Its vast lineages of family and relationships. Its hopes and dreams for a future. Its very life energy. All gone to dust and nothingness. Such a loss is too immeasurable for us to imagine. But not so for the people of Ahlemon.”
He started to pace at the front of the stage.
“If this had happened on Earth, to what drastic measures would we resort to keep ourselves from extinction?” he continued. “There is an innate force in every human being, self-preservation, which compels us to do astonishing things, sometimes noble, sometimes horrific. Extend that to an entire race fighting for their very existence. Would the people of Earth have managed such a crisis with as much grace as the people of Ahlemon? Or would we have fought and clawed our way to survival at any cost? There is no question that our history is marred with ruthlessness, particularly in desperate times; it’s a wonder we have not killed ourselves off altogether. But there it is: the wonder. The wonder is our ability, as human beings, to sacrifice for the sake of others. This is what has allowed our race to survive, and even thrive.
“Now, we have discovered we’re not alone in the universe. A sister race has called upon us, desperate for our help, in a condition that could very well befall Earth someday. Our own, earthly human experience has shown us that we, as humans, have a way of binding together in great unity during times of shared crisis, and in the midst of such crisis, showing universal respect for life and heroic sacrifice for the sake of others. This is the best of humanity. And the people of Ahlemon have shown us that it is possible to practice such humanity in the midst of the most desperate of circumstances; in the face of their imminent extinction.
“The passing of a race of sentient beings may seem like a footnote in the vastness of the universe, but we know—in our deepest being we know—that it is so much more than that. Humanity contributes an intangible element not found in any chemical charts or any laws of physics; it contributes an element that is profoundly essential to the existence of the universe. That element was powerful enough to reach across the galaxy and bring our two races together. That element is love.
“Fear, anger, jealousy, and power all exert great pressure on our hearts and minds, but they cower in the presence of love. I urge you to let love lead you now. Love will compel some of you to return to Earth.” He looked at Captain Tygert. “And it is only right for you to do so.” He looked back to the crowd. “But let love now compel some of you to stay.”
He paused, thinking. Finally, he just nodded; he was done.
The crowd was silent. Even Marshall was speechless.
“I’m staying,” someone said faintly in the middle of the crowd.
All heads turned. It was Joanie.
“I’m staying,” she said again with greater resolution and loud enough for everyone to hear. She motioned for some men to help her onto the stage, and then she turned to address the crowd. “Arthur would have stayed. He was always looking for his next adventure. But he wouldn’t go anywhere without me, so I followed him around. His enthusiasm was contagious; he filled living with so much . . . life. He filled my life.” Her words slowed as she reviewed her thoughts. “I’ve been . . . angry with him for leaving me alone, and I’ve been afraid to live without him. But Arthur used to say, ‘Fear and anger are a waste of perfectly good energy.’
“I miss him deeply,” she continued, tearing up. “In the weeks since his death, I have wanted to go home to try and find him. I see that now.” She wiped her tears and lifted her head with a new resolve. “But Arthur’s spirit is not on Earth; it lives on in me.” She looked around the crowd and pronounced, “I will be Ahlemon’s first grandmother.”
“Yesss!” Charly whooped. Pushing her way through the crowd and onto the stage, she wrapped her arms around Joanie. Joanie returned the hug as the entire room clapped and cheers went up.
Then hands started to rise.
“I’ll stay,” a middle-aged woman said, looking directly at Dr. Manassa. He turned and caught her eye, then immediately turned a light shade of red.
“I’ll stay,” a young man said, looking over to a pretty colonist, who returned his look with a surprised smile.
“We’ll stay,” a young brother and sister said, hugging each other.
Tygert watched, amazed at the shift that had just taken place: the mood in the room had made a 180-degree turn. In a matter of minutes, by his count, enough people had volunteered to stay or wait, and there were now empty seats on the first trip back to Earth. People swarmed to Dr. Manassa, complimenting him on his speech. Tygert stood nearby, waiting for the crowd to clear.
“Nice work, Doc,” he said, offering a handshake.
“Yeah, Doc, thanks,” Kane said, joining them.
; Dr. Manassa was clearly taken aback by the affirmations. “You would think I’d saved a life or something.”
“I’m certain you did,” Tygert said.
The middle-aged lady who had announced her decision to stay on Ahlemon approached them and waited to one side. Tygert recognized her; in the last few weeks, he’d seen her and Dr. Manassa sitting together during some of the meals. He tugged on Kane’s shirtsleeve and they stepped back to let her approach the doctor.
“That was quite a speech,” she said, her body language an odd mixture of admiration and frustration.
“Anne, are you certain you want to stay? What about your clinic?”
“I’ve lived a life of service to others for so long that I’ve forgotten how to acknowledge the things that I want—to even know what I want. But through a series of most unusual events,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes, “my eyes have recently been opened to a new world and the potential for a life that stirs something in my soul, something that I’d very much like to explore.”
The double meaning was clear. Anne stood focused on the doctor, waiting. Having overheard the exchange, Kane and Tygert stole a quick glance at each other, then turned to hear how he would respond.
The doctor gave her a wry smile and said, “I find myself experiencing the same . . . enlightenment.”
Anne radiated a glowing smile. Dr. Manassa offered his hand, which she took. Then they walked away together, taking their conversation private, and leaving Tygert and Kane grinning and shaking their heads.
36
Day 40
0630 hours
Alto Mair
Supervisor 3, aka Moses, stood alone in a sublevel hallway hub on the west side of Alto Mair, waiting for his visitor. The lighting was dim and it was quiet; Breaker activity in this section of the city was low. It was a plausible location for a secret facility developing new Breaker weapons—a facility that did not exist but one that Super 3 had concocted in order to lure his visitor to a secluded place.
Since becoming the new crew boss, he had found that his crewmates were more intimidated than they were mentally disabled, and he had trained and promoted one of them to manage the day-to-day activities of the crew. This had allowed him time to explore the city, make some connections, and even obtain a new work assignment. Intelligence gathering had been slow; suspicion was deeply ingrained in the Breaker culture. But he had quickly learned to distinguish the sympathizers, those Breakers with a remnant of Meken conscience, from the radicals, those who had completely turned to the dark side. Both had their usefulness. Super 3 had managed to gain some valuable information from a few sympathizers, and he had used the vanity of the radicals to advance his covert agenda.
This meeting was an example of the latter. His approaching visitor was an ambitious armada gunner, hell-bent on eradicating the humans and advancing his rank in the Breaker hierarchy. The gunner had been assigned to operate a laser cannon on a modified speedboat, one that was part of an armada scheduled to launch an attack on Alto Raun . . . in the next few hours.
Upon his discovery of the armada two weeks ago, Super 3 had determined to be part of it. But obtaining an armada position required a personal interview with Rakaan—an interview he could not risk. Instead, he had revealed just enough of his weapons and mechanical skills to obtain an assignment on a crew that retrofitted the armada boats with laser cannons. Through that work he identified the fastest boats, their crew assignments, and the launch day. As part of the weapons installation, he taught the gunners how to operate the laser cannon systems. He had specifically targeted the gunner he was about to meet, building a relationship over the last couple of weeks by giving him special one-on-one weapons training.
Earlier that morning, Super 3 had informed the gunner about a new disrupter-type rifle the Breaker builders had been developing in a secret facility. In a matter of minutes, Super 3 had the gunner imagining his own personal glory: he would be the first to use the new weapon in the historic attack on Alto Raun. It didn’t matter that he would be breaking protocol by using the gun before it was released; Super 3 convinced him that Rakaan would respect him for the audacious move and very likely promote him to become a captain in Rakaan’s prestigious personal guard.
Super 3’s acute hearing alerted him that someone was approaching the hallway hub.
The gunner entered the hub cautiously, nervously checking the other hub exits. “Where the hell are we? There’s nothing down here.”
“Calm down,” Super 3 said. “It wouldn’t be a secret project if it was in an obvious location. Besides, everyone is gathered at the wharf for the launch.”
“I hate the underground. Let’s get the gun and get out of here.”
Super 3 led him down a hallway, stopped at a door, and entered a dark storage room. Stepping aside to let the gunner enter, he reached behind the door and grabbed a pistol-sized stun gun that he had strategically placed there earlier.
“What the—?”
Before the gunner could finish his sentence, Super 3 shot him, and he collapsed to the floor. Super 3 considered the irony—the stun gun was, in fact, a new Breaker weapon, but not one that the gunner would be using in an armada attack. With the gun on maximum setting, he had emptied its charge in a single pulse of electricity. While it would not kill the gunner, it would take medical attention to fully revive him, and he would likely suffer some residual system disabilities.
Supervisor 3 closed the door behind him and set out for the marina. With weeks of successful gambles behind him, he pressed forward to play his final, and riskiest, hand.
37
Day 38
2300 hours
Northwest rooftop, Alto Raun
Two evenings before the return flight to Earth, Marshall stood alone atop the northwest roof of the city, basking in the light of a full moon and the humid, wispy wind as he surveyed the vast blue ocean before him. He had to admit it was a magnificent view. But he would not miss it. He would not miss any of this. Business was his great adventure. The high-stakes life he led on Earth was his playground. The rich and powerful men he sparred with were the closest people he had to friends. No, he would definitely not miss Ahlemon. But he would make a lot of money from his experience here. So he soaked it in one last time, happy with the thought of returning to Earth and expanding his business empire from the comfort of home.
Marshall jumped as a silver robot suddenly appeared at his side. The Breaker spy was not unexpected, but he was amazingly stealthy for a machine. This was Marshall’s fifth, and final, covert meeting with his Breaker contact. Marshall spoke first.
“Why did you call for a meeting? I’ve told you everything I know. I’m leaving day after tomorrow. I thought we were done.”
The Breaker did not look at Marshall when he replied. “Rakaan values your alliance.”
Marshall gave him a questioning look. “And?”
“You will not return to Earth.”
Marshall was stunned, and unprepared to process what he had just heard. “Say again?”
“You will not return to Earth.”
Marshall’s shock was replaced with a flash of anger. “What the hell! This was all about me getting back to Earth. And now you’re telling me I can’t go?”
The Breaker looked at Marshall. “To be clear, this was never about you returning to Earth. This was about you staying alive, and your potential assistance to Rakaan as an overlord of the humans.”
Marshall forced himself to calm down. “But I was going to do that from Earth.”
“As Rakaan wills, perhaps you will someday.”
Marshall’s anger reignited as he thought about having to remain on Ahlemon. “Not acceptable! Why can’t I go?”
“If you board the return aircraft, Rakaan cannot guarantee your safety.”
This gave Marshall pause. His mind raced with the possibilities. “What are you saying?”
“You only need to know that you should not return to Earth on this flight.”
A rar
e pang of conscience struck Marshall. While he did not respect his fellows, he did not hate them. “You can’t kill those people.”
“It is not for you to decide,” the Breaker said with a hint of menace in his tone.
Marshall backed off his attack despite the mix of emotions rising within. His logic kicked in. “But that’s a problem. I’ve been adamant about returning to Earth. How can I back out now without raising suspicion? I might as well wave a red flag in front of Kane.”
“We anticipated this and we have a solution.”
Marshall was surprised. “Really? Tell me.”
“You will tell your comrades that you came to this place to take one last look at Ahlemon and contemplate your future business plans.”
“True enough,” Marshall replied with a smirk.
“But upon your return, you tripped and fell down a stairwell and were knocked unconscious.”
Marshall’s anxiety started to rise.
The Breaker continued, “Tomorrow, you will be found in the stairwell by a maintenance Meken. Unfortunately, due to the severity of your injuries, you will not be able to travel for some time. Since ignition of the solar array will have already commenced, and to stop the Push would delay the return trip to Earth for another month, your comrades will depart without you.”
Marshall’s adrenaline spiked and he tensed to make a run for it. But he recognized that he was too vulnerable right now; he needed to set up his escape. So, he nodded, doing his best to hide his fear. “Not a bad story. Just one problem: How am I going to fall down a stairwell?”
The Last City (The Ahlemon Saga Book 1) Page 27