The Independent Worlds (The Sixteen Galaxies Book 2) (8 page)

*****

Washington DC

Robert Markham wandered out onto the front porch of his home. It was 2am, but he couldn’t sleep. He smiled when he spotted Drifter already there, a bottle of Bourbon and a glass on the little table beside him.

Robert dropped into the seat beside him with a sigh. “Couldn’t sleep either, huh?”

“Nope, never can. You sleep, you dream, and them dreams ain’t got no good stuff in ‘em, let me tell ya.”

Robert smiled. “Most people call them nightmares, Drifter.”

The old man shook his head. “Nah. Nightmares, now they’re much worse. The ones that don’t make me scream; them I call dreams.”

Robert shook his head when Drifter offered him the bottle. He leaned forward, his eyes intent on his old commander. “How come it’s still got you so hard, Drifter? Me and the others, we’ve managed to move on; why you still got that monkey on your back?”

Drifter sat back and stared at the night sky, clear and star studded. Much closer to DC and you got no stars; but out here some were still visible. “You boys, you had your jobs, right? Hangin’ out the doors, swingin’ them Pigs around.”

Robert gave a gentle laugh at the mention of the nickname the Vietnam troops gave the M60 machine gun.

“But me?” Drifter continued, “I had you boys in my chopper; your asses as well as mine. I had to keep the Huey alive, but I had to keep you boys in one piece, too. Every time Charlie put a hole in my chopper, I felt it. I knew every time the reaper missed one of you. He never did score more than a scratch, but it was no more than luck.” He poured himself another measure. “When I dream, he doesn’t miss.”

Robert decided to change the subject. In conversation, Drifter would take to a tangent and wander along it for hours, hence his nickname. “Tell me something,” Robert asked, “what you think about this alien stuff?”

Drifter shrugged. “Way I see it, we’re hosed. I don’t believe that crap this Kestil guy is peddling. Much more going down than that. We been done over before, Bobby; I ain’t interested in being rolled again.”

“Drifter, you know the first alien, Nuthros?”

Drifter nodded. “Yup, seemed like a decent guy. I ain’t buyin’ that he’s the bad guy, either; it don’t smell right.”

Robert took a deep breath. He wasn’t supposed to say this, but he needed to share. “My boy is on Nuthros’ ship.”

Drifter looked intently at his old crewman. “You for real, Bobby?”

“I sure am, boss. He’s no ordinary kid, either.”

The old chopper pilot scratched his head. “What the hell you mean by that?”

Robert sighed. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Margie and I couldn’t have kids after the war, Drifter.”

“Agent Orange?”

“Probably. I never found out for sure. But, then we found out Margie couldn’t have kids anyhow; double whammy. Defect in her womb, or something. Anyway, Nuthros fixed us both; he heard Margie crying in a park the day we found out she couldn’t have kids.”

Drifter nodded, “I knew he was the good one. The other one’s the devil in this. So, why’s your boy on that ship?”

“When they…fixed us, they made him special; he’s like some kind of advanced human.”

Drifter laughed and swallowed the rest of his glass. He refilled it straight away. “You tellin’ me your boy is a
superhero
, Bobby? Come on, man, that’s stretchin’ it a bit. I ain’t that drunk, yet.”

Robert held up a hand. “You ever known me to lie, Drifter?”

Drifter looked at Robert through narrowed eyes for full minute before he spoke. “Nope, can’t say as I have.” He sat back and shook his head. “Damn, but that’s a story. So, what the hell’s he gonna do? He gonna fight this Kestil guy?”

“I wish I knew, Drifter,” Robert replied. “I wish I knew.”

Kestil’s base

Barney Cantock was just about to strip his rifle when a man in his thirties walked up. Like so many of the new additions to the personnel in John Crabtree’s converted missile silo, the guy carried himself well; military, well trained and hard. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “Boss wants to see you, now.”

Barney laid the rifle down and stood up with a sigh. He made his way from the main command room to a small hallway of offices and tapped on Kestil’s door.

“Come in, Barney,” Kestil called. Barney shuffled in and Kestil waved him to a chair. Kestil stood up and checked the hallway, then closed the door. Kestil saw Barney tense and waved a hand at him as he sat back down. “Please, relax Barney. I’m aware that you and I don’t see eye to eye, and I’m sure you’d rather I had never showed my face on this planet. But, you and I are on the same side; John’s side. Is that not so?”

Barney just eyed the alien and shrugged.

Kestil sighed. “You are a man of few words, and I like that. However, I need to ask you a few questions, as I have a job in mind for you.”

Barney shifted in his chair. “What sort of job?”

“An important one, Barney; very important. You are perfectly suited to the task; I can assure you. But, you don’t like me, and that is a cause for concern. So, let me just ask you this; how dedicated are you to stopping the Sixteen Galaxies from taking control of this planet and the enslavement of your race?”

Barney’s eyes never left the Kestil’s face. “I’m completely dedicated to stopping
any
aliens from taking control of our people.”

Kestil blinked, and then smiled. “Honest to a fault, as always. Very good.” He leaned forward. “I think you misunderstand me, Barney. But, your distrust is natural. Let me explain some realities to you, and we’ll see what you think after that, okay?”

Barney shrugged. “Sure, I got nothing better to do.”

*****

Global News Update

“…The United States government announced today that the underground cyber protest group known as ‘Herald of the Truth’ has been declared a terrorist organization. The rapid spread of this group, who openly support the galactic empire known as the Sixteen Galaxies, has created mass hysteria with their constant publication of so-called ‘Evidence’ that purports to prove that the Independent Worlds, and its representative Kestil, are a threat to global security. US President Maitland was quoted as saying today that ‘there is no real evidence that Kestil and his society have anything but mankind’s best interests at heart.’ Herald of the Truth activists have been arrested across the United States, in what some refer to as the beginnings of a police state. Some question the validity of the declaration of terrorism, but the government is holding fast to their decision and has said it will not back down until every last one of these subversives is behind bars.”

“…In Africa, the city of Adamatzi is in turmoil, with the population being literally decimated by the drug Red Diamond. The infamous drug, which causes addiction with one taste, and kills the user if they try to stop taking it, flooded the city about four months ago. Since then, supplies have mysteriously dried up, and people are dying in their thousands. Mayor Ekene Emeka has declared the city under siege, and points to his campaign against drug use six months ago as the cause of the massacre. ‘The drug cartels declared open war on me and my administration just four months ago, and now my people are dying. We cannot fight this any longer.’ Mayor Emeka has announced his intention to step down from office, in a bid to stop the war. Many commentators say it is too little too late, and anyone previously hooked on Red diamond is as good as dead. The International Red Cross says all efforts to save the victims have failed.”

*****

Nuthros’ ship

Jack sat on the edge of an inversion plate, a frown on his face. He held his arms out and looked them over. They didn’t appear any different. No huge bulges of muscle, no ropy sinews. Well, no more than there were before, anyway. He tapped his relaxed forearm with a finger. It was fairly hard, but no more than he was used to. So, he thought, where were the enhancements Truly supposedly added to his body? Maybe a quick test, then?

He stood up and then got down on the floor. His body did feel a bit lighter, but that was all he could notice. He readied himself to do a few push-ups, but stopped when he heard Ron Baxter call out from across the hallway, “Don’t!”

He stood back up. “What? I was just gonna-”

“I know what you were just about to do, Jack. If you’d tried a push-up, you would have cracked the back of your skull on the roof. Trust me, I did.”

Jack frowned. “Why didn’t Truly stop you? Or me, for that matter?”

“She told me she prefers to let us find our own way,” Ron replied. “Truth be told; I think she’s got a sadistic streak in her code. Wait until she puts you through some training exercises.”

Jack looked at his arms again. Ron laughed. “Yeah, they don’t look, or feel, any different, huh? Come with me.”

Jack got up and followed Ron down the hallway. He felt really light as he walked, like there was a problem with the artificial gravity. Ron led him to a room on the lowest deck. Jack had never been here before. There was a gym and a sauna. He’d never asked about a gym; he always did his PT in his room at night and first thing in the morning; it had become habit ever since he started working with Mandy twelve years ago. He was always wary lest she spot his fitness level; it didn’t fit his identity as Jack Short. Well, he thought, that doesn’t matter anymore, I guess.

“Heads up!” Jack turned and saw a heavy medicine ball coming his way at high speed. He instinctively blocked, but knew it wouldn’t be enough. He braced against the impact and the ball shattered against his upraised forearm in a burst of leather and sand.

“What the-”

“Catch!”

This time it was a 35lb cast-iron dumbbell, also inbound at good speed. He grabbed it out of the air with one hand. It felt half as heavy as it ought to. He tossed it up and down a few times. He looked at Ron and laughed. “That’s unbelievable!”

“Yeah,” Ron replied, “isn’t it just?” He came and stood next to Jack. “The trick is to adjust to your new strength so that you don’t show it unless needed. First meal I had I bent the knife and fork when I picked them up. Our muscles, our bones, and several other parts of our bodies have been given the ability to perform much better. Truly started to explain it in detail, but all I got from the lecture was a headache.”

Jack nodded absently. “What else has changed?”

Ron laughed. “It would be a lot quicker to tell you what hasn’t, to be honest. For example; lights out!”

The room went pitch black, but within less than a second, Jack could see clearly. “What the hell?”

The lights came back up, and his eyes readjusted almost instantly. Ron smiled at him. “Like a cat, yeah? Here’s something else like a cat; reflexes.” He swung a fast punch at Jack’s head, which Jack blocked effortlessly. Ron grinned at him. “I know you were fast before, but I bet you weren’t that quick.”

“Nope,” Jack said, “nowhere near it.”

Ron raised a finger in the air. “Ah! I know one you’re gonna love. Check this out.”

He walked over to the far wall, and picked up a marker pen from a bench on his way over. He put a tiny dot on the wall with the pen and came back. He passed the marker to Jack. “See how close you can get to the dot from here.”

Jack frowned. “With this?” He held up the marker.

“Yeah,” Ron replied, “just throw it.”

Jack shrugged and took aim. He was no slouch at the dartboard, but a marker pen wasn’t a dart, and a dartboard was a lot bigger than a little dot. Besides, he thought, the opposite wall was at least twice as far as you stand from a dartboard. He threw the pen, and he saw it hit just down and to the left. When he walked over to it, he realized he had missed by no more than a whisker.

“Not bad, huh?” Ron asked. “Hand-eye coordination off the charts, right? But that’s no ordinary eye you got there, buddy. It’s no ordinary hand, either.”

Jack looked at his hand. It was then he noticed he could see every minute detail of his skin. As he focused in, he realized he could see into the pores. He put his hand down. His head spun and he staggered slightly. He felt Ron’s hands on his shoulders. “Easy there, Jack. Just a little disorientation, that’s all. I’m sorry, my excitement got the better of me. I’m supposed to ease you into all this, not throw you in the deep end.”

“I’m okay,” Jack replied. “I just need a seat for a minute.” Ron led him to a bench and sat down with him. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.

“Damn,” Jack said. “This is incredible.” He also started to notice sounds he’d never heard before. He heard Ron take every breath. He swore he could hear air as it left the vent in the ceiling above them. “Hearing, too, then.”

“Yeah,” Ron said. “That’s a hard one to get used to. It seems sound is balanced in some way. We can hear much quieter sounds, but the loud ones aren’t too loud.”

Jack thought things through for a few minutes. “That thing with the marker pen,” he started.

Ron held up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say.” He stood up. “Let’s go hook you into the VR training suite. I’ll get Truly to load up the gun range.”

Jack laughed. “Great minds think alike, it seems.”

“Bud, let me tell you,” Ron replied, “you’re gonna
love
this.”

*****

Global News Update

“…52 people were arrested and charged with various gun related offences after police raided a remote property in Kansas today. The property belonged to one Reynold Dwight, leader of the ‘God’s People of the Earth’ movement, a radical Christian militia group who claim to be fighting a holy war with the Independent Worlds. They say the Independent Worlds is an organization of demons, and that their representative, Kestil, is the Devil. When police entered the property, they found heavy machine guns, anti-personnel mines, home-made cannons and even a restored M4 Sherman tank.

“Police say they decided to raid the property after the group recently made contact with an undercover FBI operative with regard to the purchase of nuclear waste. It’s thought the cult’s members planned to carry out ‘Dirty Bomb’ attacks on the soon to be onlined Vincent Generator. The cult apparently believe Vincent CEO Donald Vincent had signed a deal with the Devil in order to make billions of dollars from the generators. When asked for a comment on the cult’s claims, Donald Vincent quipped, ‘I was in a relationship with the Devil, but I divorced her two years ago.’”

*****

2 hours outside Washington DC

Robert Markham pulled his SUV into a small clearing. They’d driven for two hours, and it was nearly dusk. He killed the motor and got out. His three crewmates followed suit, and stretched their aching backs. Robert gestured for them to gather up some coolers from the back of the vehicle and follow him. He led them up a small path and out onto an escarpment. The night was mild, the sky clear and star-filled.

He turned to his old crewmates. “No mobile phones, or any other tech? You guys absolutely sure?”

They all looked at each other and back at him. Everyone nodded.

“Bobby,” Drifter said, “what the hell is going on? You tell us to ditch our phones, put us in your truck and then drag us out here in the middle of freaking nowhere. You lost the plot, buddy?”

Robert laughed. “I’m perfectly sane, Drifter, believe me.” He gestured to the surrounding forest. “Let’s gather some wood to get a fire going, and crack a bottle. Then I’ll lay it out for you.”

Less than half an hour later, a fire crackled in a ring of stones, and they were all seated around it. Drifter pulled a bottle of bourbon out of a cooler. “This better be good, Bobby.”

Robert nodded. “It is, Drifter, believe me. You boys all understand about my son on that alien ship, right?” Robert had filled them in on the way out here. “Well, that ain’t even the half of it, not by a long shot.”

Robert told them everything he knew; the truth about the fleet fight in Earth space, Kestil’s infiltration of the US government, his coercion of the leaders of many countries; everything David had told him over the past few months. After he was done, they sat in silence and mulled it over.

“So,” Magnus Marx said, “this Kestil guy has control of our government. How much control?”

Robert shrugged. “I don’t know, Karl, to be honest.”

Graham Fullerton drew a deep sigh. “What you tellin’ us all this for, Bobby? What you expect us to do? We’re just a bunch of old guys; irrelevant.”

“I wish I knew, Bear, I really do. But, I was just asked to get you guys here and fill you in on as much as I knew.”

Drifter frowned. “Who told you? The other alien guy?”

“No,” came a voice from the tree-line. “I did.” David Markham walked into the light of the fire. Robert leapt to his feet and embraced his son. He introduced his old crewmates to David, and invited him to take a seat with them. Bear pulled a beer out of his cooler and passed it to David. David smiled and raised the bottle to them all.

“How long you down here for, David?” Robert asked.

David smiled at his Dad. “For the foreseeable future, Dad. Let me bring you guys up to speed.” He outlined everything that had come to pass since the fleet fight. He told them what he knew they would understand, and omitted what they would not.