The Forever Enemy (The Forever Series Book 2)

by Craig Robertson

  He hadn't been told of Frontera's duplicity. Though the UN felt Kendell could be trusted, that didn't mean he couldn't be tortured or otherwise manipulated into divulging secret information. No, Kendell was completely alone and completely isolated. That was fine. He was no longer human, so why worry over creature comforts like love and support? He was a machine with one task to perform, no different than a meat slicer or a washing machine. No different at all. And he would be a good little machine and execute his function unemotionally and with machine-like precision.

  Kendell sat at his desk reading his file on evacuation day. It was January 12, 2050. The entire planet would be below the gaseous surface of Jupiter on April 16, 2050. Jupiter’s closing speed was around a million miles per day. When the giant planet was a few million miles away, its gravity would cause massive upheavals. The last safe day on Earth would be, ironically, April 1, 2050. Anyone and anything still on the surface was likely to remain there. Marshall planned to leave sometime during the last week of March. Jackson was allotted ten weeks to get Marshall's two hundred and fifty worldships filled. That wouldn’t be a problem.

  The bigger problem, which would be SEP—somebody else's problem—was how to evacuate the bulk of the US population in no more than two weeks. If he assassinated Marshall sooner, there might be more time, but still probably not enough. Even a month more would help. But, after the elimination of the leadership, it would be hard to organize a massive project like total evacuation, given the mass confusion that would surely occur. To Kendell, that was another SEP. The fifty non-reserved worldships were filling with the family members of the sequestered women—motivation for the women to behave as intended. Jackson shuddered for the thousandth time. The remaining worldships also had to carry the administration's loyal followers, especially the male ones, so they were pretty much full too. Jackson didn't make the actual assignments or arrangements to put people in orbit. Whoever was in charge of that had to be sweating bullets. A lot of people with a lot of seat-credits surely had to be hounding whoever that person was for a departure date.

  The one upside Kendell had in his position was that his office was at the center of one of the most heavily defended military installations in history. Peasants with pitchforks had no chance of getting through to him. The only place he had to visit between now and Armageddon was the White House. It was defended better than his base. Even if all hell broke loose with the civilian population, no one was going to interfere with Jackson's holy plan. That made him happy. It was the only joy he knew.

  **********

  The UN was getting people off-world at an incredibly fast rate. As February 2150 began, we had ten thousand worldships fitted and ready. Nearly five billion—yeah, billion with a B—people were already tucked in. Several thousand worldships were already steaming to safety, heading toward the rendezvous point. We even had a good plan to alert the US population that the UN was rallying to their aid. It was simple. We dropped millions of leaflets. Yeah. We dropped them over “elevator cities,” as we called them—the places people went up from—so, rural people had a chance to start moving toward pickup points, saving their dwindling time. We actually didn't know when Marshall and his baboons were going to abdicate, but best guesses were late March. Unless Jackson took them out sooner, we probably weren't going to scoop and run with everyone who wanted out. Oh well. Their government put their asses in a sling, not us.

  The first Thursday in March, I received a top-priority message from Kahl at UN headquarters in Spain. Marshall was going to call her the next day. I jumped on Ark 1 and made it there in two hours. Whatever was up had to be big. Marshall hadn't spoken to our leadership since before the Listhelon War. We thought we'd heard the last from him. No such luck, it would seem. Unless he was calling to say he was sorry and invite us all to high tea, he was up to something no good. Kahl, Toño, a few other higher-ups, and I sat at the curved conference desk in her office. Marshall's holo would appear on top of the table, right in front of Mary Kahl.

  At high noon our time, very symbolically, the holo-buzzer sounded. Marshall zapped into existence, seated behind his desk, hands folded on the table. He was smiling broadly. We were in deep shit.

  “Hello, Mary. I see you're surrounded by the usual traitors, deviants, and deserters. Some things never change.”

  “Stuart, if you're calling to be an asshole, please don't,” she said firmly. “I'm terribly busy. The world, if you hadn't noticed, is about to end.”

  His smile widened and grew more sardonic. “No, Mary. Dear old Mary. No, I'm calling because I find I'm in need of a hero. In fact, I need one rather badly. You're the hero who stopped the lone alien vessel from attacking Earth. You're the hero who stopped an entire battle fleet from ending us before Jupiter got its chance. And you're the hero,” he held into view a scrap of paper, “who boldly proclaimed she wanted to save all of my citizens.”

  He pushed from his desk, leaned backward, and started swiveling back and forth. “You see, Mary, my citizens, the very ones you long to rescue, are in greater danger than either you or they could possibly imagine.”

  I'd had my fill. “Look, you simpering idiot, time's wasting. If you’ve got a point, get to it pronto. We're busy.”

  His sick smile cocked to one side of his face. “Talk about an abundance of heroes. Private Ryan's there too! Oh, you probably didn't get the memo, but as CIC, I busted you to PFC.” He furrowed his brow. “You okay knowing that little fact, private? Not too broken up? I'm told we have counselors for that type of situation., so let me know. I'd love to help a war hero who's down on his luck.”

  “Eat Drano and die, Stuie.”

  “If you two boys,” Mary cut in, “are done being macho, could we get to the reason for this call?”

  Marshall looked suddenly businesslike and concerned. “Certainly, Secretary General Kahl. Here's the deal. You have alien technology I want. I will have it. I have several hundred million citizens you wish to rescue. If you provide me the technology I want, I will allow you immediate access to my people so you can begin to spirit them away.” He spread open his arms. “Doesn't that seem like a win-win?”

  Mary took no time to respond. “No deal, Marshall. One, I can never trust you. Two, you're leaving in a short while. I can probably get most of your people onboard worldships before the final hour without your help or consent.”

  He wrapped his fingers loudly on the table. “Predictable of the pedantic and linear-thinking mind. Hence, I'll add a second twist—sweeten the pot, so to speak. If you don't give me the technology, the last order I issue from this office will be a blanket bombing of the USA with every nuclear and conventional explosive we're leaving behind. PS, that's a lot of firepower. Your precious prize will only go with you if you scrape their charred remains off the scorched earth.”

  I knew for sure the lunatic wasn't bluffing. Mary had to know it too. “Stuart, why? Why murder the people you're sworn to protect? Simply leave them to me to handle. Have you gone that completely mad?”

  “Ah, but Hero Mary, then I wouldn't have my alien tech. I told you. I will have it.”

  Mary took a while to respond. “I'll have to discuss this with the full assembly. I'll let you know when we've decided.”

  “No problem, sugar,” he said. “Take all the time you want. I'm leaving tomorrow, a little ahead of schedule, I'm afraid. I'll issue the order to nuke my nation at 17:00, local, if I haven't heard back. Now, I've kept you too long. Thank you for your time. And thank you in advance for that alien tech. I can't wait to get my grubby little paws on it.” The holo disappeared.

  Mary turned to me with a single thought. “Shit.”

  “I second that motion.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Marshall called for his final cabinet meeting to begin promptly at noon. All two hundred worldship czars (that was the term they voted to adopt) attended. Along with them, individuals who weren’t leaders attended if their input was needed, such as directors at NASA or senior legislators. Natural
ly, General Kendell Jackson attended. Though he had not been gifted a worldship, he was an android. Sooner or later, it was assumed he'd be inheriting one. For the first time in as long as either Marshall or Jackson could remember, they were both giddy with joy as the meeting began.

  “All right, let's get this party started,” said Marshall loudly, as he waved people into their seats. “The sooner we start, the sooner we can begin our new lives aboard our ships.” The significance of the remark was most compelling to the two hundred czars in the room. “I'll call for statements from the cabinet secretaries first, then the joint chiefs, and lastly, from NASA. Please, keep it short and sweet. I'm not in the mood for speeches. I'll turn the gavel over to my chief of staff. Here, Duncan, you take this. But, remember, crack the whip often and loudly.”

  “Okay,” Duncan said above the noise, “everyone, sit down and shut up. State, where's State,” Duncan scanned to room, “Ah, David. We'll start with you.”

  It took ninety minutes for the topic of discussion to come around to NASA. Jackson rose, cleared his throat out of habit, and began, “Good afternoon. NASA is doing well. I have no…” He came to a stop when Frontera leaned over and whispered something into his ear. “Now?” questioned Jackson, loudly. Frontera leaned in and whispered again.

  Marshall didn't like being in the dark. “Frontera, please share with the rest of the class.”

  Frontera turned slowly, then looked back to Kendell, who nodded his agreement. “Ah, very well, Stuart. I was just telling the general I must step out. There's a virus threatening the android mainframes. If we're not careful, it could leak out to the AI core. That would be bad.”

  Marshall chewed on his lower lip. “You certain this can't wait a few more minutes?”

  Frontera was specific. “I must go now. The virus is expanding exponentially.” He should know. He placed it in the computer himself late the night before. “If it breaks free, we'll lose all computer systems.”

  “Very well,” snapped Marshall. “Try and make it back if you can. You wouldn't want to miss the main attraction coming up right after your boss's report. Okay, Jackson, continue.”

  Kendell had little to say. He soon passed the microphone to a senior engineer. As the subsequent men droned on about this and that, Kendell zoned out. He scanned the room, looking at all the dead people and into all the burned-out eye sockets. He had a hard time not bursting out into laughter.

  Finally, Duncan returned the gavel to Marshall. “You holo-boys ’bout ready?” A separate video team had been waiting quietly in the corner. One of them nodded. Marshall leaned over to Duncan. “Get me that bitch, Kahl, on the line.” The president crossed his arms while waiting. “You there, Mary?”

  “Yes,” came a tired, resigned voice. “I wish I could ask you why you're calling.”

  “Oh, Mary, don't be so dramatic. You've been beaten. I've beaten you. It's normal to be a bit down in the dumps when someone rubs your face in the sand. Get over it, bitch.”

  “Are you calling from a meeting?”

  “I most certainly am. I want my friends to see me in my finest hour. Plus, I want them to see what it's like to cross me. I wish for everyone to know the consequences of not pleasing me fully. Do you have the technology plans ready to transfer?”

  “What plans, sir?” It was Kendell asking.

  “Need to know, son. You stay quiet like a good little colored fellow and let me finish this up.”

  “So, Mary…”

  Duncan cut in. “Mr. President, I wasn't aware of a plan to get that tech.”

  “I'll have to have Jackson and you form a 'didn't-need-to-know' support group. You're not in the loop because I left you out, son.”

  Another voice called out, “What plan?”

  Mary sat up, energized. “You never told them, Stuart? Why, you son of a bitch! Stuart Marshall called us yesterday and threatened to nuke all US citizens now allowed on your worldships if I didn't give him the force field plans.” She slapped her hands together. “And my day was so bleak up until now. Thank you, Stuart. My mood has soared!”

  The room exploded in shouts. Marshall pulled the sidearm he'd begun carrying lately. He fired three shots into the ceiling. “If that doesn't shut you up, next time I'm shooting into the crowd.” That quieted the room instantly. “That's better. Now, if I might conclude my…”

  “Mr. President, a moment.” It was Jackson. He was rounding the table and approaching Marshall at a jog. “As head of NASA, I'd like to make one statement.” He was halfway to Marshall, whose face grew long in worry. “It will only take…”

  Marshall aimed his pistol at Kendell. “Stop there!” Jackson froze. “That's close enough.”

  Jackson slowly raised his hands. “Mr. President, please lower your weapon. I'm trying to make an announcement about the force field. Remember, I'm the only one here whose…”

  “Freeze!” Marshall had noted Kendell's forward creeping motion. “You got something to say, you say it from there. You've got ten seconds.” Marshall checked his watch. The gun was trained on Kendell's right eye.

  Jackson stood at attention. “Very well. I want to tell my family I love them very much. I want them to understand I did this for them…”

  The last three shots rang out from Stuart's magnum. All three struck Kendell in the right upper face. Shrapnel flew off in a wide arch. Kendell spun what remained of his head back to look at Marshall, who was rapidly reloading. The final words in the peculiar existence of Kendell Jackson were heard loudly and clearly, by all present and listening on the live feed.

  “I preprogrammed myself to explode one minute after I stood up, you piece of shit. Now, do the universe a favor and die.”

  The room's light became blinding. Scattered screams were heard before the feed went dead.

  “Quickly,” shouted Mary, “go to the satellite view.”

  The satellite image was picture perfect. Crisp and clear on a cloudless day. It initially showed the White House sitting in its typical, stately form. Cars, pedestrians, and bike riders swirled around the building. Then, a bright light could be seen coming from all the windows. The light grew in intensity until it began burning whatever it touched. Trees erupted in flames, and people screamed as they threw themselves into snow piles. The walls of the structure exploded and then immediately hidden by dust and debris.

  Several hours later, the satellite image showed a thirty-meter crater where the White House had once been. It was deeper than it was wide, as the bulk of the blast began deep in a reinforced part of the building. No remnant of the underground structure could be identified, at least from that height.

  Before dawn the next morning, UN planes occupied United States airspace. Squadrons of helicopters landed in predesignated locations. The personnel needed to construct temporary rocket gantries and launch pads. Like clockwork, facilities sufficient to evacuate anyone who wanted to leave Earth were up and running. It was March 15, 2050. By April 9, four hundred million US citizens were relocated to temporary lodging in high Earth orbit. On April 12, 2050, the last of the worldships was loaded, locked, and powering toward the rendezvous point.

  Just under nine billion humans were off on humankind's greatest adventure.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Sapale and I lingered near Earth the week before its annihilation. Several research vessels joined us. It turned out that planetary scientists were anxious to observe the once-in-a-lifetime collision firsthand. There was a sober mood, considering what was about to happen, but they found it hard to suppress some excitement. Me? I was mostly numb.

  By April 15, 2050 the Earth was already significantly deformed by Jupiter's powerful gravitational field. Though she was still in one piece, she was stretched in the shape of an egg pointing away from Jupiter. Fragments and debris streamed toward the giant planet. But, she made it through the day, which was mildly annoying. We're still going to have to file our income tax statements. Death and taxes, ironically combined. Midmorning April 16, the Earth touched Jupiter's ga
seous surface. Ten minutes later, she was gone. It was like an actor slipping behind a theater curtain. No noise, no fanfare, just a gentle ripple.

  Though I was incapable of either, I felt tears well up and a tightness in my chest. My thoughts drifted back to six months earlier…

  “Jonryan! It's wonderful to see you,” Offlin shouted as soon as he glimpsed my approach.

  “Back atcha.” I snapped my fingers and pointed at him through the glass.

  “So, the great man spares this humble prisoner of war some of his time. I should be impressed.” He paused. “But I'm not. I know you too well.” He trilled at his levity.

  “Can't I catch a break? You're a tough audience to please.”

  “So, Sapale and the kids are well?”

  “Couldn't be better.”

  “And the sexes. What did she finally decide on?”

  “One boy, one girl.”

  “And their names?”

  “My daughter's name is Fashallana. Which means 'blessed one' in Sapale's native tongue.”

  “Very nice! And the boy.”

  I looked at the ground. “Jonathan Ryan II. Which means I lost that argument.”

  “What? You should be honored.”

  “Kind of stuffy, if you ask me.”

  “Then you're a silly man.” He trilled merrily. “Seriously, what brings you to see this old fish?”

  “Earth's about over. Jupiter will swallow her up in a few months. I came to see what you'd like to do. You have some pretty nice choices. You can return to Ark 1 like before and join us in the airlock. It's kind of tight, but you're family, so I'd love to have you. You can also go to the worldship built to house all the sea creatures we're bringing. It's huge! You'd hardly know you were confined. Finally, Toño can build you a tank in his lab. What do you think? What'll it be?”