by Iain Benson
“What do you want?” Cruise asked.
“To rule the world,” Wishbone said.
“Why?”
Wishbone leant back in the chair, looking up at the ornate ceiling. “You never know, Tom,” he said. “Humans might enjoy being one nation. It’ll make mankind more productive for certain. Look, between you and me, Tom, people could have been walking on other planets by now. Diseases could have been eradicated. Climate change could have been reversed. I only have everybody’s best interests at heart.”
“What is in it for you?” Cruise asked.
“Why does there always have to be a personal motive?” Wishbone asked, looking as innocent as he could.
“It’s the nature of humans,” said Cruise.
“I suppose,” said Wishbone. “Anyway, we can’t sit and chat here all day. I’m giving a speech at the UN. Please, ride with me.”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.” Wishbone’s gaze turned steely. “I’m of the opinion that there will be less of a chance that an attempt will be made on my life if you are in the vehicle with me.”
The pair left the Oval Office and walked down the plush carpets. Workmen were repairing the damage done by the running battle a few days earlier. The destroyed bust had been replaced with a bust of Wishbone, smiling beatifically. Wishbone’s soldiers were stationed throughout the Whitehouse, they still didn’t appear armed, but as they were virtually invulnerable, this did not seem to be a problem for them. They looked calm and alert. If Cruise was spooked by their presence, he didn’t let on.
A cavalcade of black limos waited for them outside. All with blacked out windows. Wishbone calmly stepped out into the bright light of a late summer morning, the air was starting to feel warm. He waited at the top of the steps, Cruise to his left, the four soldiers taking up a square around him. He picked a car at random and opened the door for Cruise to get into.
“After you,” he said.
Cruise narrowed his eyes, but stooped into the limousine. He’d ridden in innumerable such vehicles. The back seat was wide and plush. The driver was another of the soldiers. Wishbone sat next to the former president and pulled the door closed.
One of the soldiers got into the passenger seat in the front.
“You take a lot of precautions,” said Cruise as the cavalcade pulled away.
“In America, I have to. This is why I don’t fly my helicopter here,” Wishbone said. “Everywhere else, people seem content enough. They have their same leaders. They do the same jobs they always did. Nothing much has changed. Americans seem to have taken it as a personal affront.”
“We’re the land of the free,” said Cruise.
“I’m hoping they will change their mind as I start to enact laws,” said Wishbone.
“Like what?”
“I’m thinking along the lines of an end to defence spending, the disbanding of armies, free healthcare, jobs for all the want them,” Wishbone replied. “Education will also be important. I am going to ramp up education in science, maths and literacy. There are nearly eight billion people on the planet, and only a tiny fraction of them are eligible for education. It’s a massive waste of talent.”
“It all sounds magnanimous,” Cruise said as their car passed through the gates onto Pennsylvania Avenue. “I’m not sure the military personal will be pleased at losing their jobs.”
Wishbone closed his eyes and leaned back, obviously enjoying the comfortable ride.
“What is the point in a military when there are no nations to defend?” he asked, his eyes still closed. “All that effort in protecting an imagined institution could be redirected into ensuring everyone has food, a place to sleep, an occupation and a better quality of life. What was the defence budget for America last year?”
“I don’t recall,” Cruise said.
“Seven hundred billion dollars,” Wishbone told him. “That is nearly two thousand dollars per person. Sixty percent of what the nation earns. Imagine if that was spent on healthcare and education?”
Wishbone was impassioned, but he spoke with measured tones.
Cruise went quiet. It was hard to argue with Wishbone’s vision. Wishbone let him cogitate, taking out a tablet, and looking through some numbers on a spreadsheet, answering emails as they sped along the freeway towards New York City. It was an uncomfortable four hour journey for the former president.
As the skyline of New York appeared, Cruise finally spoke. “I cannot help but think that you have a hidden agenda.”
“Of course I do,” said Wishbone. “But the population of this planet will benefit from it. I would say ‘Trust me’, but I know that is unlikely.”
“You’re taking the Lincoln Tunnel?” Cruise said, as they turned off the ninety-five.
“I presume so,” Wishbone said. “The driver has a satnav engineered into his head from a pigeon.”
“At this time of day, it’ll be packed.”
“One of the benefits of ruling the world,” Wishbone said.
“Nearly the world,” Cruise interrupted.
“It’s a matter of time,” Wishbone conceded. “But one of the benefits of nearly ruling the world is that if I want to go through the Lincoln Tunnel, there will be nobody else using it.”
Cruise realised that on their entire journey there had not been a single hold up, or indeed, any traffic whatsoever. He had made the journey himself, and was always taken by helicopter due to the traffic. The road descended past the brick walls and they dipped under the arches into the tunnel. They sped through the tunnel, the lights stroboscopic outside the windows, and emerged out the other side to continue to speed across Manhattan. Cruise could see cars waiting, building up at every junction, but their route was clear. Wishbone had wasted no time in appropriating military jeeps. His soldiers were at every intersection. One thing that struck Cruise as they sped across Manhattan was the lack of horns blaring while people waited for the cavalcade to pass. That was unusual in New York where people used horns like indicators.
The wide open space of UN Plaza came into view, the car turned the corner and through the open gates towards the front door. The limousine came to a stop by the entrance; around them, flags fluttering in the breeze off the Hudson.
“Time to tell people what happens next,” said Wishbone, stepping out of the car.
Cruise stepped out behind him and had a close up view as a bullet tore through Wishbone’s back, blood spraying out of the front. Cruise instinctively ducked, and twisted, looking back along the trajectory across the fountain, the car park and the road. By the soldiers converging on a rooftop café across the road, that was where the shot had originated. It was easily three hundred metres. Within seconds the shooter was apprehended, and spirited away.
Cruise turned to see Wishbone sprawled on the paving slabs, a pool of blood oozed out from under the body. It was like a scene from one of his movies, but Wishbone wasn’t an actor, who would stand up in a moment after the director yelled “cut!”
Wishbone rolled over.
“That smarts,” he said, gingerly touching the exit wound on his chest.
Cruise looked on amazed as Wishbone got back to his feet. He returned to the car, and went back inside. Moments later, he came out wearing a lemon yellow monogramed polo shirt.
“How?” Cruise said.
“I have created an army of genetically engineered super soldiers,” Wishbone said. “Did you not think that I would not apply some of my genetic knowhow to myself?”
Cruise shook his head. It was totally surreal. “You should be dead.”
Wishbone gave Cruise a winning smile. “It is nothing a couple of aspirin won’t cure.”
Wishbone headed off up the steps again. He paused and looked at the incredulous Cruise. “Are you coming? You don’t want to miss this.”
Chapter 9
In which Vera gets his ship back
Inside the ship, the light was close to what London was used to, though the air smelled of wet paint. They were in a f
airly large space. White walls curved up from the mesh metal deck. At one end the ceiling tapered to the deck, at the other, a sheer white wall cut off the space.
“They have taken everything I was transporting,” Vera muttered.
“Who’s taken what?” London asked, looking around.
“This is the storage hold,” Vera swept a paw around the space. “It was full. Malika will have sold it.”
“What were you carrying?”
“I used to transport items from one side of the galaxy to the other,” Vera replied. “I was faster than anybody else. It enabled me to have the funds I needed to search for my enemy, and introduced me to the kinds of sentient beings that may know where he is hiding. Additionally, I never questioned my cargo.”
“I see,” London said. “It must be like getting your car back after it’s been stolen, only to discover they’d nicked your Christmas presents.”
Vera gave London a long, steady look. “Perhaps, if I understood ‘car’ and ‘Christmas’ I could make the same connection.”
“Never mind,” said London. “How about we get out of here?”
“Yes,” said Vera. “We shall go to the bridge.”
Vera headed for the sheer wall. He waved a paw over a section, which slid up, revealing a screen displaying information. Vera made several indistinct noises.
“There are people all over the ship,” he told London. “We will need to remove them before we can leave.”
“Nobody ever makes it easy, do they?” said London.
“Stand next to me,” Vera instructed. London did, and felt his knees buckle as they were whipped up ten metres to the top of the wall. A door opened as they arrived. Lights turned on in the corridor as they entered. The corridor was long, with a single red stripe around ankle level on both walls, presumably to aid in the identification of the floor.
“I have an idea,” said London.
“Go on,” said Vera. “After the bear hunt and Tarzan ideas, your creative thinking is impressive.”
“Is there anything like speakers all over the ship that can transmit a message?”
“Yes,” said Vera.
“Can you make them all say something like ‘Containment Breach – please evacuate in an orderly manner’?”
“That is a good idea, they would evict themselves. We would still have to be on the bridge,” Vera said. “Fortunately, they appear unaware of this route.”
Vera led them down the corridor. There may have been doors along it, but London couldn’t see them. The corridor ended after a dozen or so metres at a blank wall.
“Is it a door?” London asked, puzzled.
“Elevator,” said Vera, waving his paw.
London’s stomach was left in his left nostril as they dropped rapidly.
The bridge was a semi-circular room, much like the one on the previous ship, but the chairs were larger, more comfortable looking. A black curved screen took up the front of the bridge, two doors led off behind them, both of them closed. Three chairs with banks of computer consoles, readouts and switches. There were more consoles between the chairs. Only two of the chairs were empty. A beaver occupied the central seat.
“The last I’d heard,” said the beaver, “you were to be executed on Khanna.”
“We escaped,” said London.
“Obviously,” the beaver said.
“Malika,” hissed Vera. “You have taken my cargo.”
Malika waggled a paw. “It was destined to come to me anyway,” he said. “This ship on the other hand. It cost me a lot to obtain and it is useless.”
“Useless?” Vera’s pitch had risen. London guessed this meant the lion was angry.
“It will not fly. I had it delivered here, and my best scientists cannot understand it.” Malika came to his feet, raising himself up to his full height, but he still had to look up at Vera. He pointed a weapon at London and the lion. “Tell me how it works, and I will allow you to live.”
“Before anything else is done, you need to stop resting the entire craft on the jump drive,” said Vera. “It has landing gear for the purpose of landing. You will have been putting a lot of strain on the quantum foam energy modules.”
“Well, if you could see your way to lowering the landing gear, that would be excellent,” Malika gestured with his gun muzzle at the computer consoles.
“That particular item on your agenda I am happy to comply with,” said Vera, stepping forward.
Vera tapped a small pad near the central chair, which turned on the computer monitors. He quickly scanned across them, gave Malika a long pointed stare. He pushed a screen button on the central console. They could feel the landing gear deploying through the floor, accompanied by a bass rumble. There was a distant scream as somebody failed to get out of the way. On the consoles, some of the flashing lights became steady lights. The screens came to life showing the surrounding forest, a single wheel rolled away in the corner of one screen because it is traditional.
“Remember what I was in when you rescued me from the space station?” London said.
“Yes?” Vera asked, using the language modifier for puzzled inquisition.
“Can you make the rest of the ship like that environment?”
Vera spoke slowly. “Yes.”
“Then I suggest we show Mr Malika here your ship flying,” London said.
“What are you two talking about?” Malika asked.
“Would you like to see Vera fly the ship?” London asked, cheerfully.
“Very much so,” said Malika. “In fact, I insist.”
“Take a seat,” said Vera, sitting in the centre seat of the three. London took the one to Vera’s left, leaving Malika to sit to Vera’s right.
Vera swiped talons across screens and without noise or sensation they saw the dark canopy surrounding the craft become half bright blue sky on the displays around them. Quickly this became just blue then just black. Readouts and displays showed across the screens, as Vera orientated the craft and let it cruise away from the planet.
“Where would you like to go?” Vera asked.
On the screen, a green triangular shape appeared, it was flashing in an alarming fashion.
“I do have some business with Isinglass,” said Malika.
Vera nodded and tapped a few on-screen buttons. On the display, the green triangle stopped flashing and turned black.
Outside, the ship looked sleek and elegant, the ring around the centre moved to the front of the craft, the tendrils of energy stretching in coruscating blue sparks. Slowly it cleared the front of the craft, stretching the energy into long thin blue lines. In the centre of the circle a white light started to form, at first like a distant star, growing rapidly to completely fill the circle. On the screens inside, they could see it ripple and flash like frothing water. With a snap like a catapult, the ship was thrown through the circle, dragging the ring in after it. All that was left in space was a slight haze that quickly dissipated in the darkness of space.
On board, the screen went white; to be immediately replaced by the sight of the dusty desert world. It had taken seconds to return to where they had left the day before.
“Wow,” said Malika. “How does it work?”
“The drive creates quantum fluctuations in the p-brane,” Vera said. “We are then accelerated into the interface at the exact speed necessary to break through the brane and out of the other side at our destination.”
“You will have to explain that to my scientists,” Malika said. “I did not understand a word.”
Vera brought the ship down through the atmosphere, landing efficiently amid the low buildings of the spaceport.
“We’re here,” said Vera.
“That’s amazing,” said Malika. “I’m exceedingly impressed. This ship is everything I had hoped it would be. Now, you two will be coming with me.”
“No,” said London, suddenly at back of Malika. He pressed his gun into the back of Malika’s head. “You’ll be getting off here.”
“I have a ship full of my associates,” said Malika. “How far do you think you’ll get?”
“Vera? Is the air back in the rest of the ship?” London asked.
“Yes. I have returned the breathable atmosphere,” Vera replied. “According to the sensors, we have had zero casualties. However, they are all unconscious.”
Vera took Malika’s weapon of him and opened the main bridge door. A long white corridor led down the side of the ship. Several insects and a tic-tac could be seen slumped against the walls.
“It’s time you got off,” said London. “Vera doesn’t really like killing sentient beings. I have no similar compunction.”
“Actually, I do not mind killing sentient beings,” Vera said.
Malika rose to his full height, and then slumped. Vera led the way to the main hatch, lifting up limp bodies as he went. Malika looked steadily at London. Neither could read the other’s expression. After a few moments, Malika let out a stream of air through his nostril slits and followed Vera. A large door opened half way down the corridor, a ramp sliding out to the dusty ground. Vera took the casualties and laid them delicately on the floor. One made a snoring noise. Vera was back inside by the time London and Malika arrived. The beaver waddled down the ramp onto the dusty surface.
“There is nowhere you can hide from my reach,” said Malika. “I will have this ship.”
“He’s right,” London said to Vera. “We should kill him.”
“If he attempts to regain entry to my ship, by all means kill him,” Vera replied. “Please wait here while I remove our unwelcome visitors.”
Over the course of the next ten minutes, Vera removed over thirty beings from three races and left them on the ground near Malika. Some were starting to stir as he finished.
“I hope your retinue wake up in time,” Vera told Malika as he closed the door. “We killed Isinglass while we were here last time, and I’m guessing that the group of people on their way over are those that are fighting to replace him.”
Malika looked across the expanse of the port towards a group of twenty or so armed beings.