Magestic 3

by Geoff Wolak

‘You all sound Seethan,’ I pointed out. ‘So he may not take to you!’

  After I left the meeting, Jimmy stepped in without my knowing about it. The group stood and bowed, showing far more reverence than they ever displayed for me.

  Jimmy began, ‘What we are about to discuss is secret. Discuss it outside this group, even with Paul Holton, and I’ll kill you.’ He held his gaze on them, and they stared back, appearing a little shocked. ‘I need a few volunteers, the kind of people who will fight and die for their species, will stick at a lengthy and difficult project, and wish to have their names carved into the stone of time.’

  I spent a month with Susan in Trophy, and actually did a little work at the aircraft plant, meeting with the various steering committees dealing with orbital craft and portal technology – something I never tired of. These guys always had a whacky idea or two, and always had a model or toy to show me. And, I was trying to stay busy, not thinking about Toby.

  Our son, and the world he was on, Sandra’s world, was like the elephant in the room that no one mentioned. Jimmy had locked out that world, and not even I was allowed to know what was happening over there. So I focused on Trophy Aerospace.

  Following their part in the work developing advanced weapons on Jimmy’s old world, most of the Trophy engineering teams were now back here, a handful of orbital craft similar to Dark Star having been built, tested, and flown.

  The first new idea was for a booster for the craft, and that booster sat around the craft like a cradle. It contained a powerful anti-gravity engine and a great deal of fissile material, more fissile material than was normally carried. The booster would take the craft out of the gravity well, accelerate it, detach, and then return home on auto-pilot to be re-used.

  The net effect of the booster would be that our craft would benefit from a longer range – those craft destined to travel beyond our solar system, and should be fuel-efficient and fast at the point of detachment, trials now under way. They also had a baby Dark Star.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Who knocked-up Dark Star? And more to the point, why was I not told it’s a girl!’

  They laughed.

  ‘The baby craft is half the size, has a better stealth capacity – by fifteen percent or so, but is more manoeuvrable and faster. We’re now looking at a baby … of baby Dark Star, just ten feet long.’

  ‘More like a missile then?’

  ‘But one capable of reaching Jupiter and patrolling around, and one with a kick to it!’

  ‘Cost?’

  ‘A lot less than Dark Star,’ they emphasised. ‘We could have fifty on patrol out there, or five hundred.’

  ‘Do me a favour, and stick a nuke in it, and harden the noses.’

  ‘To ram another craft and self destruct,’ they realised.

  ‘And if it could drop from orbit quickly, survive the impact and detonate under the ground,’ I listed off, ‘then we could hit a ground target with it, should we locate the Zim on the ground. There’s also that asteroid they use.’

  ‘We’ll make a few changes, adding the option of carrying a nuke payload,’ they offered.

  ‘And the Moon launches?’ I asked.

  ‘Power drain is huge,’ they explained. ‘But it’s still better than using traditional rockets. Two hundred people on the main Moon base, forty on our Moon now.’

  ‘And we now have a large magnifying glass that burns ants,’ a man said, the others laughing.

  ‘Burns … ants?’ I repeated.

  ‘We created a small test model, and launched it through a portal. It’s a series of magnets that channel solar particles, and project the particles as a tight beam in any direction we like. So imagine taking all of the solar radiation passing through a circle with a diameter of a mile across, then focusing it on a point a millimetre across – like a magnifying glass.’

  ‘Sounds good, as well as right fucking impractical!’ I told them.

  ‘It’s early days, but it may have a use as a weapon,’ they suggested. ‘If and when the computerised targeting system is up to scratch it could fry a Zim craft in orbit.’

  ‘Keep at it then.’

  ‘There’s another use for it,’ a man said. ‘And I prefer it to the weapon theory.’

  ‘Go on,’ I encouraged as the other men smiled.

  ‘When our orbital craft near the edge of this solar system the direct power available from the Sun obviously diminishes. If we fired a beam out at our own craft they’d get a boost.’

  ‘Like the micro-wave boost for our drones,’ I said.

  They nodded. ‘Just the same. We could out-do the Zim at distance. And, we could collect the heavy particles from the solar eruptions and channel them towards our craft. It would be a bit like tossing a baton of fissile material across the solar system. But the best bet for that would be a base on the Moon, a receiver that collects different types of particles and radiation and fires a beam out at a distant target.’

  ‘Didn’t NASA theorise about solar sails at one point?’ I asked, getting many affirmative nods back.

  ‘That process is a slow acceleration, we aim to be faster, and our craft can sling-shot around the various planets.’

  ‘Unmanned craft!’ someone pointed out. ‘Gravitational shear would be hard on a human – as well as a Seethan in stasis.’

  Old friends, new mission

  Jimmy stepped out onto a porch in Arizona, the day hot. Hal looked up, squinting.

  ‘Jimmy?’ Hal said, easing up. Hacker and Big Paul appeared from behind Jimmy. ‘What’s … the occasion?’

  Jimmy shook Hal’s hand. ‘Got a job for you. Please, sit.’

  Hal and Jimmy sat, Big Paul and Hacker leant against a low stone wall.

  ‘Job?’ Hal repeated, taking in the faces.

  ‘You’ll all need to be treated first,’ Jimmy began. ‘You’re all well enough, but we’d need you in good form – and looking young again.’

  ‘This … job?’ Hal pressed.

  ‘Would be lengthy, off-world, dangerous … yet vital. There’s a war coming, and I need you to be in the thick of it. And, your chances of survival would not be great.’

  Hal took in the faces of Hacker and Big Paul, slowly nodding his head as he eased back. ‘I kinda got used to this porch. Figured I might sit here for a few decades and … get a tan.’

  Hacker faced Jimmy. ‘See, I told you he was a washed-up old geezer.’

  ‘Past it,’ Big Paul said. ‘Probably need a colostomy bag and nappies soon.’

  ‘Bet he can’t still get it up’ Hacker added.

  Hal folded his arms, and stared back. ‘The prospect of a long project with these two assholes does nothing for me, but they couldn’t find their way out of a parking lot without me.’ He turned his head to Jimmy. ‘No experience, you see; still wet behind the ears.’

  Jimmy nodded in agreement. ‘They’ll need a few lessons.’

  ‘And this … mission?’ Hal nudged.

  ‘Off world, long-term infiltration,’ Jimmy explained. ‘You’d be spies and sleeper agents, yet very active – and living a good life. You’d be posing as rich men … and politicians.’

  ‘Big Paul? Posing as a rich man or a politician?’ Hal queried with a laugh.

  ‘No, he has another task on the world you’ll be going to,’ Jimmy said with a smile.

  ‘Well, who’ll tend my cactus?’ Hal said with a sigh.

  Big Paul lifted a small cactus plant in a pot, and launched it down the garden, the pot smashing onto paved steps. ‘You won’t make it back anyway, old man, you’ll screw up and get yourself killed.’

  Hal slowly eased up, and inched towards Big Paul. ‘Would you care to wager something, sonny?’

  ‘Like what?’ Big Paul asked with a curled lip.

  ‘If I make it, you cook me a meal – in an apron, wearing fluffy pink slippers, and wash the dishes afterwards.’

  Hacker laughed, Jimmy shaking his head.

  ‘Fair enough,’ Big Paul agreed. They shook.

  Jimmy ease
d up. ‘Medics arrive tomorrow,’ he informed Hal. ‘After that … start walking, then jogging, and lose some weight, you fat bastard. When ready, you’ll be strapped to a table for two weeks, a tube up your arse.’

  ‘How long do I have?’ Hal asked.

  ‘Six weeks or so,’ Jimmy informed Hal. ‘So go shopping and buy some decent food; you know the drill. Oh, and read that book you wrote, that pack of lies about your youth – and how good you were.’

  ‘And the goal…?’ Hacker nudged.

  ‘There’s a Republican President on the world you’ll be going to that will be … a problem in the future on that world. You two, will get to know him, help him, and … enter politics.’

  ‘Politics!’ Hal and Hacker repeated, as if cursing someone.

  Lobster looked up from his desk to see a large figure in the doorway.

  ‘Sat on your arse again?’ Jimmy asked as he stepped in.

  Lobster stood. ‘Mister Silo,’ he said with a warm smile.

  Jimmy took in the office without saying anything, curiously observed as he peered at the photographs on the wall, some very old. Jimmy finally sat, Lt. Gen. “Lobster” Nbeki easing down and waiting. Jimmy focused on Lobster, staring across for a few seconds. ‘I need a few good men, for a job off world.’

  ‘This job…?’

  ‘Would be lengthy, difficult and dangerous, yet necessary. And, the men volunteering for it would … need their heads examined.’

  Lobster smiled widely, slowly nodding his head. ‘It would be dangerous, yes?’

  ‘That would be an understatement. The initial phase would be easy enough, training men, and then … then there’s no point in having trained men unless they’re used.’

  ‘Something I say often, sir, but … we should not complain about the peace we secured for our children. Still, a war now and then would be nice.’

  ‘There’s one coming, and many of your men will be deployed either way,’ Jimmy explained. ‘But, the mission I need men for would be stealthy, and difficult. You would need to work slowly behind the scenes, and the bad guys would be suspicious of you. You would need to do what the Rifles did on many worlds – in bringing peace to a version of Africa, yet … without being noticed.’

  ‘We would kill quietly,’ Lobster said with a nod.

  ‘And make it look like a criminal act. You would thin-out the political and military establishment, and then … one day you would step up a gear – and step into the light.’

  ‘How many years?’ Lobster asked.

  ‘Let’s say twenty, just to be sure. And then, then a long-hard ground war with no guarantees.’

  ‘How many men, sir?’

  ‘I’d say three or four hundred, mostly Pathfinders. It’s a long mission, and it’s a hard task, and it’s top secret; all enquires back to me.’ Jimmy eased up. ‘Give it some thought, because you’ve earned your honour, and deserve to live to a ripe old age.’

  Lobster stopped smiling. ‘With all due respect, sir, please don’t swear at me like that again. I was raised in the mud and the blood of the battlefield, shaped for battle by that trouble-maker of a time traveller.’

  Jimmy smiled and extended a hand. ‘Get yourself injected, and get fit if you need to. We’ll talk again when you have the men.’

  Jimmy found Ngomo at home, Ngomo now looking old, as well as overweight. ‘This where the old men sit on their laurels?’ Jimmy asked as he sat next to Ngomo, both men now in armchairs facing the veranda, fans whirring overhead.

  ‘It is good to see you, old friend,’ Ngomo offered. ‘I keep track of what goes on out there, but war is now craft in space…’ He looked away, waving dismissively.

  ‘I have a war in a jungle off-world, and I need a good man.’

  Ngomo slowly cranked his head around. And waited.

  Jimmy continued, ‘It would be long and hard, a world where Africa is not developed. It would be … jungle heat, flies, AK47s, sneaking around and killing rebels, killing corrupt politicians, and no backup or support. You probably wouldn’t make it back, which is why I’m considering your son for the job.’

  Ngomo faced forwards, and began to nod his head. ‘I would be missed here, greatly missed.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Jimmy agreed. ‘Many wives would weep at your departure. And, I’m sure, that many years of hard soldiering would cause your heart to ache for the gentle whisper of those delicate wives; delicate, slim … wives. All thirty of them.’

  Ngomo stared ahead, gripping the arms of the chair. He eased up, Jimmy following him up. ‘It would cause much heartache, my departure.’

  ‘Much,’ Jimmy agreed.

  ‘So, such a thing would best be done in secret, to save … too much crying.’

  ‘Think of the wives; they’ll voice their opinions – loudly – about your departure. Save them the heartache, and slip away quietly.’

  ‘Yes, that would be for the best, to spare them any suffering.’

  ‘Contact me in three or four weeks. Get injected, get fit, and … find a few hundred good men whose … large and loud wives will not cry too much after their departure. And, they can tell their wives that they are going on a … week-long trip for a reunion and … some fitness training.’

  Ngomo clasped Jimmy’s hand with his own giant steak of a hand. ‘How many more times will you save me from the passing of the years?’

  ‘I’ll keep trying till we’re both dead,’ Jimmy said with a grin.

  At Trophy Aerospace, I was called in by the senior staff, thinking they had a new toy to show me.

  ‘Boss, we’ve received a shit load of money from the African Union – on several worlds, and Mister Silo has asked that we ramp things up.’

  ‘Oh. Which … things?’ I asked.

  ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘No, obviously.’

  ‘Mister Silo has pointed towards the orbital craft, but also wants a stockpile of portals made up, the larger versions.’

  ‘Portals?’ I queried. ‘We’d need global permission for them.’

  ‘We have it, it just arrived.’

  ‘Oh. Well, Jimmy has been being a bit secretive of late; he has in mind that a war with the Zim is possible.’

  ‘Here?’ they asked, seemingly horrified at the idea.

  I shrugged. ‘There’s always a risk that the Zim could get our frequency. So … stay sharp, and I’ll chat to Jimmy and get back to you.’

  I linked into Jimmy from the house. ‘We on a war footing?’

  ‘We have been for a while.’

  ‘And the extra money for Trophy Aerospace?’

  ‘I have a plan, but it’s flexible. What I don’t want to do is to just wait for the Zim to come knocking. Besides, I may make a few aggressive moves ahead of time.’

  ‘We don’t know where they are, or what their intentions are!’

  ‘I know a little more than you, and I … suspect a few things.’

  ‘And you can’t even share them with me?’

  ‘If the Zim are clever, they’ll be sampling our future or hacking computers and comms. I doubt they are, but still … they have the ability.’

  ‘So long as you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘I’ll come chat to you if I have any simple tasks.’

  I wagged a warning finger at the screen.

  The bird is the word

  ‘This is so strange,’ Hal told Hacker as they drove towards a logging company in Washington State, 1968, the car’s radio now playing The Beatles “Hey Jude”. They made their way north in a Ford Mustang Coupe 289, bright red, and stood out, Hal having bought the car to ‘blend in’.

  ‘Yeah, but at least the music is good. No fucking rap music!’

  Hal found himself smiling. ‘I remember this road. Place I should be staying in is a motel just up here.’

  They eased to a halt at a roadside diner, people stopping to stare at the bright red car as it purred to a halt. Inside, they claimed a booth as a waitress in a pink apron came over.

  ‘Hello aga
in, Hal,’ she offered with a nice smile.

  Hal ran a hand through his long hair. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Usual?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah, two. Please.’

  She winked and stepped away.

  Hacker eased across the tabletop, his own hair down to his neck. ‘What was the wink for?’ he whispered.

  ‘I … wish I knew,’ Hal whispered back.

  ‘Did you and her…?’

  ‘I damn well don’t remember. Besides, this is a parallel world, so I could be gay here for all you know!’

  ‘You’ve been reading your own life story from the book,’ Hacker complained.

  ‘She ain’t in it!’ Hal forcefully whispered.

  ‘Well … touch her up on the way out a see what happens,’ Hacker suggested with a smile.

  ‘We’re on a mission, remember.’

  After the meal, and without touching-up the waitress, they continued north through Clallam County, through the city of Forks, and found the right motel as it started to get dark.

  ‘That’s my old car,’ Hal noted as they pulled alongside a beaten up old Dodge.

  Out of their inconspicuous bright red car, they checked that the coast was clear, and Hal checked his very deadly fountain pen. Heaving a sigh, a look exchanged with Hacker, he stepped forwards and knocked on the door closest to the parked Dodge. After a few seconds his other self opened the door and peered out, suddenly surprised by the mirror image he found.

  Hal stumbled, ‘I found this pen on the ground here. Is it … yours, fella?’

  The other Hal rubbed his chest, and staggered backwards, Hacker rushing inside. Hal checked the parking lot and the road before stepping inside, closing the door.

  ‘Is he…?’ Hal asked as Hacker knelt over the body.

  ‘He will be in a few seconds. Help me get him undressed.’

  ‘My god,’ Hal let out. ‘I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. And … I feel sorry for him, real sorry.’

  ‘Don’t, focus on the mission,’ Hacker urged as he undressed Hal’s temporal double.

  Half an hour later, and with fingerprints removed, face caved in, they eased the body into the trunk of Hal’s old car, soon nervously driving into the woods, a patrol car passed. Finding a quiet spot, miles from anywhere, they carried the body away from the road and dumped it as it started to rain, leaving it exposed for animals to eat.