The Last Story (7 page)

"Report?" she snapped as she stepped onto the bridge.

Pareen glanced up from his monitors. "Approximately three hundred alien vessels have materialized inside the orbit of Malanak. We are fighting back, but these ships, though small, are exceedingly powerful and maneuverable.

Already, in this short time, ten percent of our fleet has been destroyed. The aliens have demanded our immediate and unconditional surrender. Our admiral is considering giving in to their demand."

"Have you been able to confirm the status of Malanak?" Sarteen asked.

"It has been destroyed," Pareen said.

Sarteen was shocked. "The entire planet? That's not possible."

"The destruction is confirmed. It is rubble."

Sarteen was confused. "How were these alien ships able to exit hyperspace so close to the sun?" Ordinarily they could come out of a hyperjump only far from the powerful gravitational pull of the sun, or any star, for that matter. Gravity greatly distorted travel through hyperspace, ripping ships to pieces.

"Their technology would appear to be far in advance of our own," Pareen said. "They are able to change speeds rapidly. Certainly their weapons are far superior to anything we have."

"Has our fleet been able to ascertain the nature of their weaponry?"

"No. It appears to be a new form of energy. Our shields can stand against it for only a short time."

"Has Earth been attacked?" Sarteen asked.

"Not yet. But many of the alien vessels are moving in that direction."

"Have we any communication with the alien fleet, besides the ultimatum?"

"No, Captain."

"Have you altered our course to head away from Earth?"

"Yes. But to what purpose?" Pareen was angry. "Our place is with our people."

Sarteen ignored him for a moment. "Put the relative positions of our ship, the alien ships, and our fleet on the viewing screen."

"Captain?"

"Do it!"

Pareen manipulated the controls. A mass of purple and white lights appeared. Their own vessels outnumbered the aliens three to one, but as she watched several white dots blinked, and then vanished altogether.

Surrender seemed the only course—for the others.

"We are still far from Earth," she said aloud, talking to herself. "We might be able to escape." She turned to Pareen. "Are any of the alien ships heading our way?"

Pareen consulted his instrument. "One seems to be breaking away from the main pack.

It's accelerating sharply." He looked up, fear in his eyes. "It's coming in our direction."

"How long before it reaches us?" Sarteen asked.

"At its present rate of acceleration, four hours. We would not be able to return to near light speed and make a jump through hyperspace before then."

"How much time do we need to regain enough velocity?"

"Five hours."

Sarteen was thoughtful. "The ship that's chasing us might not be able to keep up its present rate of acceleration."

"I wouldn't count on it. I think we have to surrender."

"We will not surrender!" Sarteen shouted at him.

Pareen stepped toward her. "Then turn our ship around and let's fight. Let's at least have a noble end.

Why do we run?"

"Because perhaps this is the end. The end of everything.

But we can't let it finish, not like this. If humanity is so special, as the Elders say, we must survive."

Pareen sneered. "You believe anything they said after this?"

Sarteen was surprised that he automatically assumed the Elders were responsible for the attack. Yet as she glanced around the bridge, she saw the rest of her crew nodding agreement.

"We do not know who is in these alien ships," she said quietly.

Pareen burned with bitterness. "Of course we do. The Elders told us to recall all our ships so that they would all be in one place, easy to wipe out. Then this murderous fleet materializes.

They must have intended to exterminate us from the beginning."

"But when we linked minds with them," Sarteen said,

"their love was so great."

"They cast a spell over us. And we fell for it."

"No," Sarteen said. "I trust in that love. It was real."

"So is the ship that chases us. Love will not turn back its energy beams. We either turn and fight or we surrender. There is nowhere to run."

"There is the whole universe." Sarteen considered.

"If we could gain an extra hour, we would be able to jump into hyperspace. Then we would be safe."

"The mathematics of their speed versus our speed will not give us that hour," Pareen said.

"It is a simple fact."

"We have to slow them down, catch them by surprise."

Sarteen pointed to Pareen's monitors. "In three hours we will reenter the cometary cloud.

Find me a gaseous cloud."

"This far out, comets have no tails or gas surrounding them. It is only when they approach the sun that they begin to boil and throw off material. You know that—it is elementary astronomy."

"Yes, I do know that, Pareen. What I am asking of you is to find me a gaseous cloud of even minute size, which you should be able to locate up ahead of us. Not all comets are simple balls of ice out here. Some have faint coronas."

"May I ask the purpose of finding such a minute cloud? It will not stop the alien ship that chases us, I can tell you that now."

"But it will provide the camouflage we need to deposit thousands of nanoeggs in it."

Understanding crossed Pareen's face. The nanoeggs were the invention of the Crystal's scientists, a weapon they had put together during the centuries they had explored far from home.

A nanoegg was only as large as

a chicken egg, but contained within it a million tons of compressed antimatter—sealed inside a magnetic bottle.

When matter and antimatter collided, the release of energy was phenomenal, complete.

One nanoegg could wipe out an entire planet. The corona of a sleeping comet could disguise the presence of their eggs, and if the alien ship were to unexpectedly sweep through them, chasing in their wake, it should explode, shields or no shields. Pareen nodded as he considered her strategy.

"We must release the eggs with the alien ship practically on top of us," he said.

"Otherwise the eggs sharing our high velocity—will sweep out of the corona."

"True. But we can fire the eggs into our wake at high speed. There will be room for error."

Pareen shook his head. "Not much. If their weapons and engines are so superior, we must assume their sensors are likewise. The eggs must make contact with the alien vessel inside the corona or else they will be spotted and avoided."

"It is worth the risk. Especially when we don't have another option." She stepped toward the elevator. "Let me know when you have located a suitable cometary cloud. I will be in my quarters."

"Why are you leaving the bridge at a time like this?"

"I have to see to something important," Sarteen said.

I stopped writing. Tiredness had begun to creep back in. Besides, I didn't know what happened next. I didn't understand half of what I had written.

Twelve strands of DNA that reverberated with

twelve chakras? I knew that humans had two strands of DNA, spun in a double helix shape. I did not know what a chakra was; the word had just come to me as I wrote. I didn't even know if Sarteen was right, if the Elders were behind the attack or not.

Yet I loved the story, the feel of it, the mental pictures and feelings it evoked in me.

Often I started a story simply with a single powerful image and waited to see where it went.

Backing up what I had written onto the hard disk, and onto a floppy, I turned off my computer and crawled back into bed beside Peter. Just as I began to doze off, another piece of my dream came back to me, or I thought it did. I had been talking to Roger and we had been discussing this very tale. The thought made me smile. I had only known Roger a few hours and already he had inspired a story.

CHAPTER

VII

A T THE CONSTRUCTION SITE the next day, I came close to losing my mind. I could not see how this hole in the ground—even with the bulldozers plowing hard and Andy's gay lover painting wildly was going to look like the Caribbean anytime in the next year. I told Henry as muoh, in a surprisingly hysterical voice.

"It will be perfect," he said. "You're a writer, not a director. You don't understand the magic of camera angles and film splicing. Remember, the sailboat set piece is complete. We just have to tow it over here from the studio."

I stepped to the edge of the wide pit. "When we fill this with water," I said. "Won't the water just soak into the ground?"

"Some will. We'll just put in more."

"And you're going to color the water? Will the sharks like that?"

"The sharks don't have a contract. They have to like it."

I chuckled. "What if someone falls into the water?"

Henry lost his easy manner. "We don't joke about that. No one gets near the sharks while they're feeding."

"Do we have to feed them?" It was a stupid question, I knew.

"We have to film them feeding. It's in the script you wrote. That reminds me. We won't be shooting here tomorrow. We'll be on the waterproof set at Warner's. We're doing the below deck flood scene first."

"That's a big change. When did that happen?"

"This morning. It's movie biz. You have to be flexible. We can't get the Warner's set next week.

We have to take it tomorrow and we can't have any screwups. We have only two days to shoot, unless we want to pay an additional thirty thousand and wait until next month. Anyway, that's not the problem. It's Lucille, who plays Mary."

"I know who Lucille is. What's wrong with her?"

"She can't swim."

"What?" I asked.

"You heard me."

"So? She doesn't have a swimming scene."

"Andy told her that. But she's nervous about tomorrow. The water will be up to her chest.

Andy's afraid she's going to freak. They both want you to rewrite it so that Mary doesn't have to be below deck while the others are trying to plug the holes in the ship."

"That's out of the question. The whole point of the scene is that they're eying one another to see who will make a break for the remaining lifeboat.

How are we going to explain their faith in Mary?"

"I don't know," Henry said. "You're the writer."

"It can't be done. Lucille will just have to set aside her fears if she wants to be in this movie."

"We can't fire her," Henry said. "We fired two people yesterday."

"One. That's another thing that annoys me. Why did you stick up for Bob?"

"I didn't 'stick up' for him. He's impossible to replace at the last minute. I was simply trying to mediate the crisis. And then, in the end, you asked him to stay."

"I was afraid Roger was going to hit him again."

Henry's face darkened. "Did you see the way he hit Bob? Like he wouldn't have minded killing him?"

I waved my hand. "Roger's all right. I think he grew up in a tough part of Chicago. He actually likes Bob. I talked to him after we left your house."

"Can he swim?"

"I don't know. We didn't go swimming." I paused. "But it's an important question. He has a big swim scene. You know, now that I think about it, we didn't ask anybody if they could swim."

Henry laughed. "You didn't. I was only joking a second ago. It was the first thing I asked Roger.

Let's worry about this Mary/Lucille thing tomor

row. I'm sure Andy can shoot it so that Lucille doesn't feel like she's going to die." He paused.

"You look tired. Preproduction jitters? Trouble sleeping?"

I rubbed my bloodshot eyes. "I was up late writing."

"A new story? What's it about?"

I had to smile. "I don't know. I have to write more. Maybe one of the characters will eventually tell me."

"I'm sure it'll sell millions."

I shrugged. "It's a difFerent kind of story. It may not sell at all."

Just then Roger drove up in his sleek black Corvette with the top down. Dressed entirely in black, and wearing black shades, he looked like the star I hoped my movie would make him.

As I walked toward his car, leaving Henry to deal with the bulldozer men, I realized I hadn't asked him about his acting background. Not that it mattered.

When someone had it, they had it. And Roger definitely had it.

But what is it? Sex? Huh, Shari?

"Hi," I said. "How did you find this place?"

"The director told me where it was."

"Andy? Isn't he conducting rehearsals?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you supposed to be there?"

Roger laughed. "The boss is back."

I softened. "I'm sorry. I was just wondering."

"Andy told us we could take a ninety-minute

break. We've been going at it since eight this morning." Roger glanced at his watch. "I thought maybe you and I could have lunch together."

"I'd love to, but I already have plans." I was supposed to pick up Peter and have lunch with him.

He was coaching the future Cy Young award winner that afternoon, the blind one. But...

Roger had such a beautiful jawline, and his body looked as if it had been programmed into a computer—to my specifications—before being stamped out. I added,

"Maybe tomorrow."

"We'll be all wet tomorrow." He looked me up and down. "Lightning only strikes once."

"Is that what you are? Lightning?"

He leaned out of his car, brushing my bare arm.

"No. I'm destiny. And it only knocks once. Come with me. We'll have fun. You can call your friend and tell him you were held up."

"Oh, I wasn't having lunch with anyone," I lied, and hated myself for it. "I was just busy with Henry." I stopped and giggled nervously. "Hell, why not? Where do you want to go?"

He spoke in a sinister voice. "Somewhere dark and quiet."

I continued to giggle. "I'm not drinking any wine. I'm not falling for that trick again."

He clasped my hand. "Did you fall, Shari? Is that what happened?"

I didn't know what to say. I said nothing.