Epic . . . but not lengthy.
President Benton stepped away from the microphones, accepted the large ceremonial scissors, and cut the red ribbon. Loud applause from the gathered crowd echoed through the streets of New Geneva. He was surprised to find his hands were sweating despite the cool breeze that swept in off Lake Geneva. Then again, this building was the symbol of a dream he and others had worked so hard to bring to fruition.
As he looked out over this crowd, the image of Martin Luther King Jr. delivering his famous “I Have a Dream” speech before tens of thousands on the National Mall played out in President Benton’s mind. Dr. Stephenson’s dream was every bit as important as Dr. King’s—not just that all races could live together in harmony, but that all species of intelligent beings could do so, no matter their planet of origin. It was what this grand new building, the Stephenson Center for Interspecies Reconciliation, symbolized.
The great Dr. Donald Stephenson had devoted his life, not only to reverse engineering beneficial alien technologies that could eliminate pollution and disease, but to welcoming the species that had made these miracles possible. Leave it to President Benton’s militaristic predecessor to screw up first contact, big-time, by provoking the aliens as they came through the gateway and then by nuking Stephenson’s gateway, killing the great doctor and many of the world’s finest scientists, along with tens of thousands of EU citizens, due to the blast effects and fallout.
It had taken time but, at last, the United States public had come to embrace what he and others had been proclaiming ever since that horrible day. The American people had elected him president with a mandate to fix this mess. The cleanup and rebuilding of Geneva had been a healing first step, one that this center symbolized. But it would take a strong, centralized world government to finish the task by rebuilding the Stephenson Gateway and carefully establishing communications with the aliens in order to explain what had gone wrong. Only then could our little planet become a productive member of a much larger galactic community. Only then could we receive the guidance of those who had already solved the problems plaguing humankind.
President Benton stood tall and inhaled deeply, feeling the crisp air fill his lungs. Yesterday, the United States had joined the UFNS, the final superpower to enter this new union. Now nothing could stand in the way of human enlightenment.
A new day had indeed come.
CTC’s corporate jet was less than an hour out of Austin and Heather was tired. Political schmoozing often seemed to suck the life out of her as surely as if the entire room was filled with vampires. But it had been for a good cause, a critically important one. She knew from firsthand experience what the lead elements of a Kasari invasion force looked like. She had the emotional scars to prove it and so did Mark. While their physical scars had healed, the loss of Jennifer continued to tear at both of their souls. She’d be damned if she’d allow naïve, politically correct revisionism to turn what happened seven years ago at the Stephenson Gateway on its head . . . damned if she’d let the UFNS rebuild that portal.
She glanced out the window, watching as the first hints of sunrise painted the distant Austin skyline with its peachy glow. This wasn’t the life she and Mark had dreamed of when they’d bought their New Zealand farm. For two years, they’d been happy there. But Heather’s steadily worsening visions had forced them to leave that idyllic existence to embark on this dangerous new road.
Now all their hard work and planning was coming to a head. Freddy Hagerman had spearheaded the creation of A Safe Earth, a movement meant to be a roadblock on the UFNS highway to madness.
Unfortunately, according to the polls, President Benton’s supporters were winning the argument, constantly repeating a mantra of talking points that focused on a central question: Why had the Kasari starship provided us such wonderful technologies if they didn’t have humanity’s best interests at heart? Along with advanced cold fusion, we now had nanites that could cure disease and extend human lifespans, tech to convert matter to energy, and plans for building a wormhole gateway that could be a portal to the stars. Such thinking ignored the fact that the Rho Ship and the Bandelier Ship had shot each other out of the sky back in the ’40s. So much for the peaceful alien theory.
Heather’s mind automatically calculated their odds of success, but she gritted her teeth and forced her thoughts back to the positive. Long ago Mark had told her that it wasn’t how the odds were stacked against them that was important. As long as the odds weren’t zero, they still had a fighting chance.
She turned to look at Mark, who leaned back in the leather couch beside her, his eyes closed in meditation. A perfect memory formed in her mind: the boyish look of excitement on his laughing face as he had given her a hand up into the wondrous Altreian starship after they had stumbled upon its crash site near Bandelier National Monument. She had felt that same thrill, and though Jennifer hadn’t admitted it, Heather had known that Jen had felt it too.
The Altreian starship had altered them for better and for worse. And it had destroyed their comfortable little lives.
Refocusing on her husband, she compared the man Mark had become to the high school boy she’d known back then. In the last few years he’d grown taller and his body had filled out magnificently. At six foot three, two hundred and ten pounds, his neurally augmented strength and reflexes were off the charts. So were many of his other abilities. Lying here beside her, he looked so good that she found herself longing to run her fingers through his wavy brown hair.
After they’d put a stop to Dr. Stephenson’s attempt to bring the Kasari through the Stephenson Gateway, they’d changed their names and moved to a rural farm in New Zealand to find peace together. That first year of marriage had been wonderful. The physical toil of farm work and isolation had cleansed their souls. Too bad that time couldn’t have lasted. World events had inevitably dragged them back into the fray.
Glancing up, she caught Janet’s knowing smile from the opposite side of the aircraft. Not only did Heather have an audience but the jet was now on final approach to Austin Executive Airport.
Ah well. Fingers through Mark’s hair would have to wait a little longer.
Jack Gregory stepped off the bottom step onto the tarmac, nodded to Jim Richards, the leader of the security detail that had come to meet them, and then ushered Mark and Heather into the back of an armored sedan. Janet slid in on the passenger side. Jack climbed into the driver’s seat. Touching the console, he entered the command that enabled the manual-drive feature, then grabbed the joystick that rose from the center console.
“Damn, I miss steering wheels and pedals!”
Janet’s laugh eased his irritation. Even the stick’s placement bugged him. If it was on his left he could reach over and place a hand on Janet’s thigh instead of just thinking about it. Since their duties had kept the two of them on different schedules for the last three days, he’d been thinking about those legs a lot.
He eased the stick forward and the powerful car responded, maneuvering onto Aviation Drive before turning southwest onto Cameron Road. Ten minutes later, after a brief stop at the perimeter security gate, the car entered the Combinatorics Technology Industrial Park, wound through the wooded green space that separated the manufacturing buildings, and parked beneath the entrance to the headquarters dome. Per security protocol, Jack and Janet were the first to exit the vehicle, which could, if necessary, be verbally commanded by the backseat occupants to speed away.
The Combinatorics corporate headquarters was unlike any other. Built of transparent titanium, one of the many patented materials manufactured on campus, the building glittered in the sunlight like a jewel. The four-story dome reminded Jack of a huge flying saucer, rising only ninety feet above the ground at its peak. Divided into four floors, the topmost was Mark and Heather’s penthouse. The third floor provided living quarters for Jack, Janet, and Robby, with a separate apartment for Robby’s Quechua nanny, Yachay. Corporate offices filled the second level, while the security lo
bby, meeting rooms, gym, and cafeteria occupied the ground floor.
Belowground, things went from interesting to amazing. Tunneled into the stone three hundred feet below their headquarters, the Smythes had constructed a computing center, training facilities, and a warren of automated research laboratories. There they invented materials and equipment derived from a combination of Altreian and Kasari technologies, with modifications envisioned only by Heather’s savant mind.
Powered by twin cold-fusion reactors and manned by custom-built industrial robots, the only links to external networks were through untraceable subspace receiver-transmitters, or SRTs. But all of the sensitive research, most of which had not been released, was isolated on a supercomputer in New Zealand. Access to the lower level was limited to a core group of six. That underground world was where they worked with Robby.
Janet’s voice brought him out of his reverie.
“Where will you start the security inspection?”
“I want to tour the perimeter fencing, then work our way through each of the facilities and end up back here.”
“I’m going to stop in and check on Robby first. I’ll meet you at the main gate.”
Jack nodded and watched her walk into the security lobby before climbing back into the car. The thought of what Robby would face if anyone found out about the things he could do scared Jack. And Robby’s growing rebellion against the restrictions that prevented him from going out and experiencing the real world, from mingling with other kids, would soon make keeping his secret all the more difficult.
Hell. Jack couldn’t blame Robby for pushing back. Jack and Janet continually argued about the restrictions imposed upon their son. Despite Robby’s rigorous training regimen and extreme talents, she was adamant that he was still a kid and lacked the wisdom and experience to keep himself safe. When Jack had pointed out it was tough to get that experience in a padded cell, he’d been in Janet’s doghouse for two weeks.
Maybe she was right. When one public slipup could bring Robby to the wrong people’s attention, the right approach might be the cautious one. Regardless, it raised a much darker question.
How much longer could they hope to constrain the gifted child who had inherited so many of his father’s traits?
Janet Price strode into the elegant security lobby that formed the entrance to the CTC headquarters, her thoughts so focused on Robby that she paid no attention to the glorious sunrise visible through the building’s transparent titanium walls. The weight of the Glock holstered at the small of her back was so familiar that she noticed it no more than the six-inch needle that pinned up her dark hair. Her black jumpsuit and leather jacket highlighted her athletic body, but it was the urgency of her long stride and her serious expression that attracted the attention of the security guards as she approached their station.
“George,” Janet said, directing her attention to the supervisor. “I’ll be up in my quarters for the next few minutes if anyone needs me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Bypassing the desk, Janet walked to the elevator lobby and pressed the up-arrow call button.
At eight years old, Robby no longer required a traditional nanny, but Yachay was anything but traditional. The indigenous woman who had helped bring him from Janet’s womb into this world was a fierce combination of godmother and bodyguard. She was the only one besides Jack, Mark, and Heather who Janet trusted with her son’s dangerous secrets, and those secrets were many.
The memory of the Bolivian night that had altered Robby sent a shudder through Janet before she could shove it back into the recesses of her mind.
She’d stepped onto the veranda, little Robby slung against her left hip, taking in the scene at a glance. Inside the open case on the low table, the lone alien headband picked up the flickering light from the hurricane lamp. Mark, Jen, and Heather leaned back in their chairs, their own headsets firmly seated over their temples, eyes staring sightlessly into the night. Jack sat in another chair, his alert posture reminding Janet of a Ranger taking point.
Setting Robby in his child swing, Janet gave the handle a couple of turns and started its gentle back-and-forth motion before settling into the chair beside Jack.
“How long have they been at it?”
“About twenty minutes.”
“Any sign of trouble?”
“Mark seems to be under some stress.”
Janet focused her attention on Mark’s face. The powerful line of his jaw stood out prominently . . . not clenched, but very tight. She’d seen that look before on a trained operative resisting torture.
“How much longer are you going to give them?”
Jack shrugged. “Maybe ten minutes. Depends on Mark.”
Based on the concern she heard in Jack’s voice, she knew Mark was closer to the precipice than he would have liked. Darkly fascinated, Janet leaned forward, determined to aid Jack in the last few minutes of his vigil. An extra pair of trained eyes watching for a sign that Mark was about to break couldn’t hurt.
Robby dropped his pacifier and stretched his arm out for something even more interesting. Somehow, as he swung back and forth in his rocker, his grasping baby fingers had snagged the glittering alien headset from the open case and, as he mouthed it, its twin beads had slid up onto his temples.
Janet spun, horrified by the sound of Robby’s scream. She froze, her mind momentarily refusing to accept the sight of the glistening headband attached across the front of her baby’s face.
Recovering, she lunged toward Robby, hands outstretched to snatch the hateful thing from her baby’s head. Just before she reached him, she felt herself snatched back into powerful arms. Struggling, she tried to kick herself free, only to find herself bound more tightly, her blows absorbed by her lover.
Jack’s voice wormed its way into her brain. “Janet, stop! We can’t remove the band. Not before the link is finished.”
“It’s killing him!”
“No, but we might. If we remove the band before it finishes the link, it might kill Robby or leave him brain damaged.”
Janet stopped struggling, sinking to her knees in Jack’s arms, sobs bubbling to her lips from the darkness deep within her soul. She looked at her baby’s face, contorted in agony.
She struggled to speak. “But it’s changing him.”
Jack pressed his forehead to hers. “Yes. Probably in the same way it changed Mark, Jennifer, and Heather. They turned out all right.”
“He’s only a baby.”
Then she breathed out the thought they both dreaded. “And it’s the Rag Man headset. El Chupacabra’s headset.”
“Trust me. This’ll be different.”
For the first time since she’d known him, as Jack held her quivering body against his, Janet didn’t believe him.
Snapping herself out of the hated memory, Janet’s thoughts turned to the alterations the Altreian headset had made to her son. It had given him many of the same abilities exhibited by Mark and Heather—an eidetic memory, an enhanced neural system, and unnatural control of his body. Although he was only eight, he looked like an athletic thirteen-year-old, yet another attribute that forced Janet and Jack to keep him isolated.
When Robby was very young, Janet had noticed his ongoing conversations with an imaginary friend, sometimes aloud and sometimes only in his head. When these continued through the years, Janet’s concern for her child’s mental health had risen to the point of desperation. Thus she had leaped at the chance to take Heather and Mark up on their offer to bring Robby to CTC, where the two could assist with his education and training. More than that, Janet knew that Heather’s savant mind offered the best chance to understand and help her son.
At this hour of the morning, Robby would be eating breakfast and then preparing for the training rigors of another day. Like Mark and Heather, he had no need for sleep, but nighttime gave him what he valued most: privacy for meditation and communion with the Altreian artificial intelligence that had downloaded itself into Robby’s brain.<
br />
When Janet stepped out of the elevator on the third floor, she walked directly to their apartment. The wide terrazzo-tiled entryway was decorated in a Mediterranean style with a warm, welcoming feel in conflict with Janet’s darkening mood. She needed to shed that mood before she carried it into Robby’s presence. Pausing just outside the apartment, she applied a smile that would have made her grandfather proud, opened the door, and stepped in.
The great room opened up just beyond the foyer, separated from the open kitchen by an eight-foot-long granite counter. Yachay stood at the counter, the Quechua woman’s weathered face as hard as her body. Ageless and impervious. Sitting at the kitchen table, Robby looked up as Janet approached, his brown eyes meeting hers.
“Good morning,” she said, leaning down to kiss his cheek.
“And a fine morning to be good on,” Robby replied with a grin. It was one of his games, stealing the words from his favorite books to form a response.
She sat down across from him, wishing that he would continue eating the fluffy scrambled eggs and bacon on his plate before they grew cold.
“Good news. You get a break from your studies today. You can read, play computer games, or do whatever you want.”
“How about letting me go around with you?”
“Not today. Your dad and I are conducting a security inspection.”
“Mom! You don’t have to hide me here all the time. I can help.”
Janet saw the resentment in his eyes. She shook her head. “No. Your dad and I need to focus on our jobs without worrying about your safety. Your time is coming, just not yet.”
“Why not?”
Janet felt her temples pulse. She loved Robby so much that she’d sacrificed much of what she loved to do in order to keep him safe. This rebellious phase might be normal, but it was pissing her off.
“Please, just do as I ask.”
The Kasari Nexus (Rho Agenda Assimilation Book 1) Page 5