War World X: Takeover

by John F. Carr

  In any case, today Voorhees had a flight to catch.

  He had wanted to make this journey for some time, but he had been simply overwhelmed with work, especially in the last four years, since the Exodus of the CoDominium Fleet from Earth. Sauron had received millions of survivors, all of whom required screening and approval for—or rejection of—asylum on Sauron.

  Sauron had dutifully accepted its quota of Earth refugees; almost none of whom met Sauron’s standards of genetic acceptability.

  However, sterilization was absurdly easy to implement and even easier to blame on the refugees. They had simply been exposed too long to the increased levels of radiation on Earth; such a shame, Sauron offers her condolences, etcetera.

  With the bulk of that work behind him, Voorhees had finally decided to take the time to book the many inconvenient Alderson Jumps it would require to reach the little backwater moon where lived the Mother of his Atalanta; who was destined also to be, in many ways, the Mother of Sauron’s Supermen.

  He wanted to tell her many things, about his triumphs, about her part in them. She who had been the only willing participant in the Project that he had re-named because of her daughter.

  Because of our daughter, he amended.

  He had lied about Becca Royce being an infertile mutation. It was the only way to allow her to return safely to her mother on Haven.

  Now, after more than fifty years, Voorhees too would finally return to Haven, to see the only two women that had ever mattered to him.

  Only to find he had come too late.

  EPILOGUE

  Haven, Royce Farm: 2113 A.D.

  Becca Royce Jeffries Parmenter held the last note of her mother’s favorite hymn as the voices of the other mourners faded into silence. Then Becca, too, finished the measure, and released her mother’s spirit to join the great song of the Universe.

  Becca’s sons and daughter, along with her grandchildren, stood on either side of her as the Church elders filed by to tender their condolences and offer their respects. They were followed by friends and neighbors, a few tradesmen from the town of Redemption, but no one who had to travel more than a few miles.

  Becca didn’t blame them. Nobody traveled very far from home, anymore. Things were very bad on Haven, these days. Earth was dead, and the CoDominium was overextended everywhere, trying to maintain some cohesion among worlds which had overnight gone from colonies to the sole remaining preserves of the human species. Across the human-inhabited universe, people withdrew, retrenched, and awaited the storm they feared might come and destroy them any moment.

  Which was why she was surprised to see a mourner she did not recognize, standing by the bier after everyone else had left.

  “Do you know that man, Mother?” her daughter Bao-Yu asked. Bao-Yu Jeffries was curvaceous, blonde and blue-eyed; the physical antithesis of her namesake, a friend of her mother’s who had died in a Jump Catastrophe over thirty years before.

  “I do not,” Becca admitted. The mourner was looking calmly at Becca, but had not stirred from his place by the gravesite. “But I believe I will go and say hello.”

  Becca was something of a local legend. She had buried two husbands—the second only last year—and today, her remaining parent. She was a successful rancher and had been Professor of Veterinary Medicine at Castell University until it had closed four years ago. At fifty-seven and a mother of four, she looked no older than thirty and was still regarded as a great beauty; there were several unabashed suitors who were checking off days on their calendars until they could approach her at a respectable distance in time from her latest bereavement.

  “Good trueday to you, sir,” Becca addressed the man. “Were you a friend of my parents?”

  The man standing before her was tall and slender, obviously very athletic in his youth and still appeared quite vital despite a cane he apparently needed, if only at intervals. He looked to be in his early seventies, perhaps a bit older, but Becca knew from her own experience that such appearances could be deceiving.

  The man nodded. “In a way. I knew your mother when she studied at the University.” He stepped closer to Becca and extended his hand. “My name is Larson Voorhees.”

  Becca felt sure she knew the name but could not place it.

  “I am sorry, Mister Voorhees, but my mother never mentioned you to me.” She became aware of a mild sense of apprehension; this man was looking at her with a great, and progressively unwelcome, intensity.

  “I would not think she would. We only met briefly. I was working on a research grant at the time. Your mother was a student volunteer, the only one who—” he stopped.

  Becca frowned. “The only one who what?”

  “The only one who was also a medical student,” Voorhees continued smoothly. “It gave us a common ground to talk about. She could fully appreciate what I was trying to accomplish here on Haven. Her…contribution…was a great encouragement. We were more friends than colleagues, but I daresay I could not have succeeded in my research were it not for her.”

  “Well, my mother never finished college,” Becca said, wishing to end the conversation. “She married my father in her second year, and I was born in what would have been her third, so I don’t know how she could have given you much help with your research, but I’ll take your praise as a compliment to her and thank you for it.”

  She felt an immediate and unreasoning dislike of Voorhees, but being unable to explain the feeling did not mean she was prepared to ignore it.

  “Please do; I meant it sincerely as such.” Voorhees nodded in farewell. “I just wanted to see you and speak to you briefly.” He looked past Becca’s shoulder to where her children were waiting, two of them holding children of their own. “An excellent family,” he said, and turned away.

  Becca watched him go, trying to remember where she had seen him before. Years ago, and only briefly, at some gathering. Becca had only attended one gathering in her youth, and suddenly she remembered. It had been just before her return to Haven.

  “Mister Voorhees! You were with the Olympics in ’82, on Earth!”

  Voorhees turned and smiled. “I am flattered you remember me, Mrs. Parmenter.”

  Becca’s lips thinned with anger. “It is not a happy memory, Mr. Voorhees.” Becca took two long steps toward him. “It was at the memorial for the athletes. Twenty-two young men and women died. I survived only because my ship was late because trips to and from Haven were so infrequent in those days. I missed the ship to Wayforth that carried almost all the other athletes.”

  “A terrible tragedy, Mrs. Parmenter,” Voorhees agreed.

  “Yes. One I have had to live with every day for the last thirty years. I had friends on that ship, Mr. Voorhees. People I had only known a fortnight, but with whom I shared bonds that have lasted my entire life.” Becca could feel the blood pounding in her ears; thirty-five years of anger and grief trying to burst forth.

  “I share your grief, Mrs. Parmenter, but I do not understand your apparent anger,” Voorhees was trying to be conciliatory, but something inside Becca told her that both his statements were lies.

  “I am angry, Mr. Voorhees, because those young people—my friends—were on a Sauron ship, a ship which you, too, were supposed to be on. At the memorial you mentioned a ‘cruel trick of fate’ that detained you at the last minute. But for some reason, I never believed you.” Becca felt tears on her cheeks. She had not cried for her mother today. She had never cried for her friends, not in thirty years; but now she cried.

  “But what could a sixteen-year-old girl do? Nothing. Nothing but go home; live, marry, raise a family and try to forget her pain and her suspicions.”

  Voorhees was silent for a long time. “I don’t know what you expect me to say, Mrs. Parmenter, so let me say this: Living, raising a family and forgetting one’s pain is the sum total of human existence.” And suddenly, Becca saw a gleam of revelation in Voorhees’ eyes, as if he only now was seeing the truth of his own words.

  “You could
say they are the ‘golden apples’ of our lives.” He nodded again and turned away, walking back to a car where a driver opened the door as he approached; on the door was the State Seal of Sauron. “Goodbye,” he said.

  Just before he reached the car, Becca called after him. “What exactly was the research you were doing that my mother helped you with?” she asked.

  Voorhees turned and favored her with a smile of paternal love.

  “Obstetrics.”

  The car door closed, and the vehicle slid down the hill and out of sight.

  The End

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  JOHN F. CARR is the author of numerous books and, along with co-editor Jerry Pournelle, has edited over 30 theme anthologies and short story collections, including the 2001 Prometheus Hall of Fame Award recipient: The Survival of Freedom. His many anthologies include, Black Holes, Nebula Award Stories Sixteen, 9 volumes of There Will Be War, 4 volumes of The Endless Frontier, 3 volumes of Imperial Stars and 10 volumes of the shared-world anthology series, WAR WORLD. He was also the Managing Editor of the Far Frontiers paperback magazine for Baen Books.

  WAR WORLD: TAKEOVER is the 10th book in the on-going War World Saga, which includes 3 novels, the most recent being

  WAR WORLD: The Battle of Sauron by John F. Carr & Donald Hawthorne published in 2008. The War World series is a shared-world universe created by Jerry E. Pournelle and John F. Carr and set in Jerry Pournelle’s CoDominium/Empire of Man future history. For more information on War World visit: www.warworldcentral.com

  ABOUT THE BOOK

  WAR WORLD: TAKEOVER is the second volume in a grand reissue of War World that will present Haven’s history in a chronological fashion for the very first time. Each book will include both the best of previously published stories as well as many brand new yarns.

  On Earth, overpopulation and rising nationalism require the resettlement of millions of troublesome minorities or the fragile peace between the USSR and the USA will go down in flames. It is up to the CoDominium to solve this problem and it just so happens the Bureau of ReLocation has discovered the perfect dumping ground for millions of unwanted minorities and religious fanatics. This happens at the time when the mining companies, exploiting Haven’s considerable resources, need a cheap and expendable labor pool. Since one hand washes the other, the CD Bureau of Intelligence gives orders to subvert Harmony rule and turn Haven into a CoDominium Protectorate.

  After the failure of their first attempts to sabotage the settlement of Haven, with the Docktown Rebellion, the secret masters of the CoDominium go back to their drawing boards to come up with a new plan. Once again they send in BuIntel’s top troubleshooter, Maxwell Cole, and his usual band of miscreants. This time Cole will either succeed in subverting Harmony rule of Haven, or be stranded there forever! They don’t call Haven End of the Line for nothing….