Jack shook his head.
“What else do you call it then?”
“She’s dead,” said Jack, still barely able to believe it himself.
“What?”
“President Walker was killed in the Scourge attack.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry Jack,” said Vyleria, gently touching his arm. “I know how much she meant to you and your world.”
“So, you’ve no leaders now?” said Padget. “It’s chaos, anarchy?”
“I wish that were so,” said Jack. “That would make our task a lot easier.”
“Well then who is the new President?” asked Vyleria.
“You just saw him,” said Jack.
“Stormborn?”
“I’m afraid so,” said Jack, shaking his head again. “And now we are his and America’s number one enemy.”
“Terrific,” said Vyleria.
“Tell me about it.”
“What do we do now then?” said Grunt. “Do we go back and try to contact the Asvari, perhaps Ros’ people would listen to us…”
“No, the Asvari will never break from the Americans, not even if the whole world were to explode; that was Ros’ parting gift, for better or for worse.”
“Well what then?” said Grunt.
“Now we move onto the next centre of power. Congress. If I can find some senators and representatives that are willing to listen, I may yet be able to force Stormborn’s hand.”
“Jack, you’ve got to be kidding,” said Vyleria. “You’re just going to walk into another trap again, and this time you may not be so lucky.”
“But I’ve got to try, I’ve got to do something. This coalition is unravelling before I’ve even put it together; the Scourge could be back any second…”
“Oh Jack,” said Padget, pointing at one of the floating panels. “You might want to have a look at this.”
“What is it?”
“Take a look,” said Padget, his face devoid of all colour.
“Is there no justice in this world?” boomed a dark-haired man in a jet-black suit. “After the alien attack was thwarted by America and her allies the entity behind it returned to the scene of his greatest crime – the cowardly attack on the White House – and attempted to assassinate President Stormborn.”
“Fortunately,” said a woman with bleached-blonde hair, “the President’s Space SEALS were able to respond swiftly to the alien menace, bringing down the attacker in a hail of bullets. The boy escaped however, thanks to some unknown alien technology. A search is underway.”
“But that’s not how it happened,” said Jack, staring goggle-eyed at the screen. “They attacked me first, I swear.”
“Oh yeah,” said Padget, “care to explain that?”
Jack watched as the news program re-played footage of the attack. They watched in stunned silence as Jack – his facial features accentuated to look more alien, more monstrous – strode up to President Stormborn, summoned his space pistol and attempted to shoot him in cold blood. The President dodged him at the last moment, before the SEALS intervened valiantly on his behalf.
“It wasn’t like that, they drew first. They’ve doctored the image somehow; made me look meaner and the President stronger, braver.”
“Well of course they have,” said Vyleria. “What did you expect?”
“I…”
“And they are still running with the story that we were behind the attack, not the Scourge,” said Kat. “How are we going to re-build trust now?”
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “But I’ve got to try, the future is at stake; if we fail here, we fail everywhere.”
“What do you propose?” asked Grunt.
Jack thought for a while. “We go to the people,” said Jack.
“The people?” hissed Xylem.
“They are the bedrock of America, of Western civilisation, of the entire world even. If we can convince enough of them of our cause, of the righteousness of our mission then we may be able to force Stormborn to the negotiating table.”
“Sounds like a longshot,” said Kat.
“Yeah,” murmured the others.
“I know but we have to try,” said Jack. “It’s our only hope.”
New York. London. Beijing. Addis Ababa. Paris. Berlin. Rio de Janeiro. Seoul. Tel Aviv. They all ended in the same way: in riots and mayhem.
In Times Square they were pelted with bricks and bottles, before being charged and fired upon by riot police. In London, Paris and Berlin they were faced with tanks, tear gas and soldiers. In Addis Ababa helicopter gunships ruled the roost. In Rio they were under assault by the army for over an hour before they could escape. Seoul was completely deserted, and in Tel Aviv they were almost killed by a storm of cruise missiles.
No one wanted to talk to them. No one wanted to listen to their stories of the Scourge or of President Stormborn’s deception. The people were tired, hungry and afraid. Jack didn’t blame them. Some had been living in the sewers for days, all had lost someone dear.
“Now what?” said Vyleria, re-emerging in the control room. She dabbed a streak of blood from her forehead. Grunt, Padget, Xylem and Kat appeared soon after, their faces covered with blood.
“At least it can’t get any worse,” said Jack as the ship’s med-bay healed a gash that ran down the length of his arm.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” said Padget, looking at another one of the floating panels.
“What is it?” said Jack.
“You better take a look,” said Padget, as one of the med-bay’s lasers danced over his forehead.
“Good evening America,” chirped the news presenter from earlier. “After the astonishing events this afternoon when our planet once again came under enemy attack an emergency session of the United Nations Security Council has ratified President Stormborn’s request to be made not just the President of the United States of America, but of the entire world. The vote was unanimous and comes in with immediate effect.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” said Jack. “Most countries hate America, why would they conspire to make him their leader? He is the antithesis of everything they represent.”
“Because they are scared,” said Vyleria. “They thought we were attacking them again. We played right into his hands.”
“He’s beaten me,” said Jack. “I’ve been outmaneuvered.”
“What can we do?” said Kat.
“Nothing,” said Jack. “It’s over. We will have to face the Scourge alone.”
“But there must be a way,” said Vyleria. “We have to keep on trying no matter what. That’s what you always say; we can’t let Stormborn win. Not now. Not ever.”
“Oh yeah and what do you suggest?” said Jack. “Whatever we do will only make us look like the aggressors.”
“Which is what Ssstormborn wantsss,” hissed Xylem.
“What about Gaz?” asked Vyleria.
“Gaz Finch?”
“Yeah.”
“I…” Jack hadn’t thought about Gaz since he had been fired into the Black Hole. Funny how the old enmities linger long after peace has been secured…
“Wasn’t he working for Stormborn when he first came aboard?” asked Vyleria.
“Yeah, he was a liaison officer if I remember correctly.”
“Well what if he still is?” asked Vyleria.
“It’s hardly likely,” said Jack. “Not after he volunteered to stay on the spaceship. Stormborn doesn’t take kindly to disloyalty; it wouldn’t surprise me if his bones are already in the desert.”
“But we’ve got to TRY, besides, isn’t it a little fishy that Lava man sent him back to Earth unharmed after he took over the ship?”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Jack. “But Stormborn would never work with the Scourge, not after what they did to Nevada.”
“Perhaps not, but it still doesn’t make any sense. What did Lava man have to gain by bringing him back here? If nothing else we should at least check it out, we might find something useful.”
>
“She’s right,” said Grunt, casting a shadow over them all.
“Yeah,” chimed the others one by one.
“Okay,” said Jack, walking over to one of the floating panels. “Let’s give it a try. There should still be a locator beacon attached to him. It shouldn’t take long to work out…”
“What is it?” asked Vyleria. “Where is he?”
“The Pentagon.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Pentagon
Jack smiled as the man in the grey suit scanned his I.D, then his retina.
“All seems to be in order Captain Whyte. You may proceed to S3.”
“I told you my I.D was fool-proof,” said Vyleria in Jack’s ear.
“And my disguise? I’m not so sure he bought it. He was looking at me a little suspiciously.”
“That’s probably what they all do,” said Vyleria. “It’s security, remember? Besides, your new facial features are nothing like your own; I even made you taller and more good-looking, if that’s possible. Hey, are you blushing?”
“What? No. I never…”
“Relax Jack, I’m just pulling your leg. Now will you hurry up and find Gaz; we are running out of time.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
The elevator wheezed open and Jack stepped in. He smiled casually at the other personnel, then hammered away at the button marked S3. He wasn’t sure if that meant S for subterranean or S for secret, but he didn’t care, he just wanted to get this over and done with. It had taken far too long as it is.
The elevator doors opened on a long snake-like corridor, the electric lighting impossibly bright. Jack walked down it as quickly as he could. He could do little else.
Before long he came upon a non-descript glass door, surrounded by several computers and electronic readouts. Jack pressed his retina up to the scanner and waited. A green beam of light zipped over his vision, but nothing happened. He tried again. Same result.
“Vyleria, it’s not working.”
“Try it again.”
“I already have.”
“Well do it again. You must not have done it properly.”
“Of course, I did,” said Jack, stepping up to the scanner again. “Perhaps you made a mistake with my false identity, perhaps…”
“Who are you talking to?”
Jack turned around. Two burly guards faced him, their Alsatians regarding him menacingly. They were armed too.
“I…”
“This area is off-limits,” said the bigger of the two. “Secure personnel only. You must have gotten lost.”
“I’m not lost,” said Jack. “I need to get into that room. I have the necessary clearance but for some reason the scanner won’t admit me.”
“Then you are lost,” said the other guard, grinning widely. His teeth were pale yellow. “If you had the requisite clearance then that door would open, and we wouldn’t be stood here in this draughty corridor.”
“But there must be some mistake, some way we can solve this.”
“There is… leave. Go back quietly to which ever floor you should be on and don’t come back.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You don’t want to do that,” said the guard, glancing at his Alsatian. It began to growl, thin strings of saliva dripping to the floor.
“Oh, I see.”
Jack moved like lightning, his space-pistol appearing in his hand almost instantaneously. The lead guard dog was half way through the air when a blue bolt struck it in the chest. It collapsed instantly, soon followed by its handler, the laser round slamming against his temple like a sledgehammer. The other Alsatian made a lunge for his knee, only for it to swallow a mouthful of blue fire instead. After a brief yelp it flopped to the floor.
“Please! Stop!” said the other guard, collapsing to his knees. “I’ll do anything, just don’t kill me!”
“But I haven’t…” said Jack, looking at the lifeless bodies on the ground, before speaking in a loud, deep voice. “Make sure it stays that way then. Place your rifle on the floor and then go back the way you came. If you attempt to follow me I’ll be forced to terminate you. Do you understand?”
The man nodded, a small wet patch spreading across his groin.
“Good. Now go.” Jack fired into the air.
The man ran, tripped over after a few steps, then got up again. Kept on running.
Jack turned around and looked at the three bodies. He had shot them on the highest stun setting possible. He hoped that would give him enough time.
“Jack, what have you done?” said Vyleria in his ear.
“What I had to; we are running out of time.”
“But we could have figured it out; this stunt of yours is going to cost you time, not save it. Someone will raise the alarm…”
“Let them; I’m sick of asking nicely, we’ve got a war to win.”
Jack flicked up the setting on his pistol and then fired at the door. The glass exploded inwards in a chaos of light and sound, knocking half the wall down in the process.
Jack walked through the gap, firing at anything that moved. “Gaz!” he shouted, bringing down a squad of soldiers. “Gaz!”
More firing, explosions everywhere.
Jack heard a clicking sound next to his right ear. “Stop firin’,” said a gravelly voice, “or I’ll blow your bloody head off.”
Jack turned around and looked down the barrel of a gun.
“You’re a hard man to find,” said Jack.
“What’s that got to do with you?” snarled Gaz, his face like a Pitbull.
“I want to talk, that’s all,” said Jack, brushing Gaz’s revolver to one side.
“About what?” he half-asked half-spat.
“Stormborn.”
“What about him?”
“We thought you might be working for him?”
“What if I am?” spat Gaz, all the warmth gone from his voice. What had happened to the old Gaz, the one he had made friends with on the spaceship, the one who had helped him defeat the Asvari?
“We need to speak to him, reason with him if we can… why are you laughing?”
“You can’t reason with him,” said Gaz. “Never could. Don’t make the same mistake I did.”
“But we’ve got to try; the Scourge could be here any hour, any day now; we are running out of time. If we don’t organize our defences and form some sort of an alliance, then we’ve got no chance. If you think this attack was bad, wait till the dreadnuts arrive.”
“We’re dead anyway, don’t you understand?”
“No, I won’t accept that, there has to be some way to make the President see sense.”
“And there is Jack,” crackled a voice from a walkie-talkie inside Gaz’s jacket.
“Stormborn? But how…”
“Never mind how Jack; meet me in half an hour at Arlington cemetery outside Washington D.C.”
“But…”
“Come alone! No friends, no spaceship.”
“What if this is a trap?” said Jack. “Some sort of double-cross, you do have form for it.”
“Yes, I do,” said the President. “But you’re shit out of luck… and allies; you’ve no other choice and you know it.”
“But whereabouts will you be? Arlington is huge…”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you, you can count on that.”
“Okay fine, I’ll do it,” said Jack, trying to sound as fearless as possible.
“I knew you would. Be there at three o-clock sharp.”
“You too,” said Jack, tapping Arlington’s coordinates into his holowatch.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” said Gaz.
Jack was going to ask him what he meant and why he looked so pale, but then the corridor faded away, replaced by rows of milk-white crosses.
Arlington.
Judgement Day.
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Arlington
Jack looked out at an endless sea of chalk-white tombstones, red and green wreaths laid at their
feet. Like little hearts, Jack thought. A cauldron of clouds swirled overhead.
“How many more will be laid to rest if I do what you ask?”
Jack turned around. President Stormborn was stood next to him. There was no one else present, not even any secret service agents. He looked somber, sad even.
“I…”
“How many?”
“I’m not sure,” said Jack a column of thick black smoke catching his eye. It looked to be coming from the Smithsonian. “It could be hundreds, thousands, or…”
“Millions?”
Jack nodded, the storm breaking overhead. “If today is any indication then yes.”
“How can I justify this to the American people, to the entire world?” Eyes like green fire.
“Tell them about the Scourge, about what they are doing to other parts of the galaxy, to worlds similar to our own.”
“You’ll provide me with the evidence?”
“Of course,” said Jack, desperate to get this over with, to get things moving. “We have reems of data, quite a bit of it featuring myself in fact. But you could just show them the Nevada attack footage, the one I gave you last time.”
“Lost,” said Stormborn, droplets of rain cascading down his face, “in the White House attack.”
Figures…
“Just give the word and the vids are yours; Vyleria can send them anywhere in the world in a heartbeat.”
“Is that meant to be a threat? Do you think anyone else will listen to you?”
“Perhaps not,” said Jack, “but if you turn me away I’ll have no other choice.” Take the bait, take the bait.
The President smiled. “If you have the time that is.”
“I…” What is he planning?
“I’ll do it,” said Stormborn, looking malignantly into the slate-grey distance. Jack swallowed a sigh of relief. “On one condition.”
“Which is?”
“That you back me one hundred and ten per cent, both in terms of the American Presidency and the World’s. I need legitimacy Jack and you are going to give it to me.”
“Or else?”
“Or else you and your friends can fight the Scourge alone.”
“But we’ll be fighting for Earth; if we lose then the U.S.A and the rest of human civilisation is doomed.”
Jack Strong and The Last Battle Page 10