The Forever Enemy (The Forever Series Book 2)

by Craig Robertson

  I smiled ear to ear. “Just in case what?”

  “You team up with Marshall and begin a screw-the-most-women competition for the rest of time.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “I bet I could win. Easy.” That brought a playful kick to my shin.

  I was glad we'd finally had the android discussion. Knowing Sapale had negative interest in becoming one freed my concerns. We would live our time together, and then we would part. I would stay with the nascent Kaljaxian colony as long as it required my help, and I would protect it forever. As to when Marshall and I actually met, I decided since I had no control over that at the present, I would shove it to the back of my head. The future would take care of itself, with or without my stressing over its progress.

  As our voyage progressed, Toño was our main contact with the folks back home. He spoke to Carlos occasionally. Mostly they discussed technical advances and innovations, but they also shared gossip. Carlos told us that after Marshall left and Exeter was repaired, life settled down to a comfortable pace. The worldships functioned to perfection, and the societies that developed were flourishing and successful. Food production was more than adequate, and the lack of luxury items was not too big of an issue, societally. Criminal activity was essentially zero, illicit drug use was negligible, and interpersonal friction was well managed.

  One big reason for the combined low crime rate and nonexistent drug problem was because basically no one had the ability to produce recreational drugs in the first place. A few Coca trees were cultivated, but they were under constant, tight security. Opium poppies were needed for medical use, but were, if anything, under ever tighter control. The same went for the tobacco plant. It was along for the ride, but absolutely no one was smoking it. The one-acre field of it on the one farmship where it was grown looked a good deal more formidably defended than Fort Knox. The same went for amphetamines, hallucinogens, and similar synthetic drugs. The chemicals to produce them were harder to obtain than mercy from a scorned wife.

  On my home front, things couldn't be better. Every eighteen months or so, I was proud parent to another set of twin girls. When Sapale determined the Fashallana was mature enough, she had an aliquot of the mixed semen instilled into her birth canal. As Fashallana is my daughter, that's what we'll call it, okay? Her birth canal. In time, Kashiril and Wolnara received the same medical treatments. No snickering out there! Dad speaking here. When Sapale invited me to the sessions during which she explained to our daughters how to activate their reproductive systems, I always found some critical task to perform that disallowed my hearing of those words.

  Toño and I had settled into a warm, casual relationship. When he'd been “Doc,” my creator, I looked at him as an authority-figure and supervisor. Now we were friends. On the few occasions when he wasn't slaving away in his lab—smiling the entire time—we'd sit and reminisce about the old days or old acquaintances. Sometimes we'd speak of Marshall and strategies to defeat him. On rare occasions, which absolutely drove Sapale mad, we'd hunker-down in his lab and smoke cigars. I was never a big fan of them, mind you, but they are great conspiratorial tools to manifest a modicum of independence from one's spouse. Plus, hey, they're a guy thing, and we were a couple of guys.

  An interesting conversation Toño and I had over Havana's best a decade into our journey involved sex. Specifically, him and sex. With only Kaljaxians around, and all of them my daughters, I asked him how he was handling celibacy.

  He answered quickly. “I've never been much into relationships and intimacy.”

  The pilot and dude in me let slip, “Huh?”

  “Jon, have you, in the past century, know me to date, man or woman, or even speak of such matters?”

  “I just thought you were shy about your private life.”

  “I'm not, because there's nothing to be shy about. In college, I went out with a few girls, kissed a few, and ventured further with a couple. I don't know; it just never felt essential for me. I think I'm what is called a 'confirmed bachelor.' Plus, someday, there'll be women around to interact with.”

  I guffawed. “Yeah, in like four hundred years!”

  He shrugged. “I'm feeling no emptiness now.” He bobbed his eyebrows up and down. “If I do, there's always the shuttlecraft. I can buzz back for a quickie and return in less than a decade.”

  “A quickie? Toño, that's the crudest thing I've ever heard you say. I'm stunned you even know the word.”

  “Jon, I may be disengaged, but I'm not dead.”

  “Well, you're free to use a shuttle should the need arise.”

  “Speaking of going back,” he stood and walked over to a shrouded piece of equipment, “now's as good a time as any. Call Sapale back here. I've something to show you.”

  Five minutes later, she entered, waving her hand under her nose. “You think you have something to show me that's so important I'll tolerate you burning those penis-shaped weeds?”

  Smugly, he responded, “I do.” He whipped the cover off a steel cylinder. “This is well worth the smoke exposure.”

  She looked at me as I looked to her. Simultaneously, we said, “What is it?”

  It seemed to be a torpedo, maybe fifteen meters long and two meters across. But, it couldn't be that. The engine was way too big, and we didn't need a torpedo. Between membranes and rail guns, a torpedo was unnecessary.

  “It's a bottle,” he said proudly, “in which to place a message.”

  “Do you need help,” I asked, “running a self-diagnostic? You're making no kind of sense.”

  Sapale pointed. “That's not a bottle. A space craft, maybe, but never a bottle. What liquid would we store in it? It's huge!”

  Toño shook his head sadly. “You two have no imagination. Of course it's not literally a bottle.”

  “Is it a weapon?” I guessed.

  “No, it's a method for Sapale to help guarantee the success of her plans for the colony on GB 3.”

  “If you say so,” she replied dubiously.

  “Look, inside the craft is almost completely hollow. It's basically a flying cryo-unit.”

  “I get it!” shouted Sapale with glee.

  “Which leaves only one confused shopper.” I raised a hand halfway up.

  Sapale was jazzed. “Don't you see? We send it to Kaljax, and they can ship back some critical elements needed for a stable, rich population of Kaljaxians.”

  I pointed at the torpedo and asked with considerable disbelief, “You're going to have them fill that with sperm?”

  “Men!” was her response as she shook her head in disbelief. “There're a few things other than your creative juices needed to power a society.”

  “Books, religious icons,” cut in Toño, “not to mention seeds, spices, and holos.”

  “How long will the trip take?” By the tone of her voice, I knew she wanted it to return yesterday.

  Toño ran a hand through his mop of hair. “Unfortunately, Kaljax is almost on the other side of Sol from here, around sixteen light-years. However, I've designed the craft with that in mind.” He smiled like a little boy who just opened a really great present. “It'll do 0.85 c.”

  “You're shitting me?” I blurted out.

  “No,” he folded his fingers together, “maybe even a tad more.”

  “Boys, boys. Break it down for the civilian here.” Sapale was impatient. This meant the world to her, literally.

  “The round trip,” he responded, “will take the ship roughly fifty years. To us, nearly seventy-five will pass.” Sapale's face dropped with those words. “But, the important thing is that it will be done.”

  “But after I'm gone,” said a disheartened Sapale.

  “But in your grandchildren's lives, yes.” Toño tried to be upbeat. That, it turns out, is hard to be, generally, when one's death is the topic of the conversation. “You, my dear, will make a list of what they'll need and provide me with the names of families you trust back home. I'll send Lily to make sure the handoff goes smoothly.” He rested his hands on her
shoulders. “This will work.”

  Looking down, she said, “I know.” Then she rallied. “I'll make that list and tell the children what to expect and how to use it. It can almost be like I'm there. Almost.”

  “That's the spirit,” he encouraged. “No particular rush, obviously. When you're ready, the ship is too.”

  “Thank you, Toño.” She kissed his cheek, then hugged him tightly. “Thank you so much!”

  The trip to GB 3 took us just over eleven years. Fashallana was pregnant with—you got it—twins by the time we arrived. Tempus fugit. When I stepped onto our new home, my little baby girl was carrying our granddaughters. Ffffuttoe was still alive, but some of her spunk was fading. Her pelt had thinned, and it was turning a whitish-gray. She smiled and laughed constantly but was only capable of giving four or five children a bath per day. She still referred to herself as Bath Master First Class, however. What a joy!

  I never pressed my wife for it, but as GB 3 came into view, I had to ask her. “So, what shall we call her?”

  “The planet, you mean?”

  “Yes. Before we land, she should have a proper name. Maybe a flag too.”

  “How about coordinated party hats?” She growled ever so cutely, then said seriously, “It's a big deal. I'm not certain.”

  “No prob, love. I got this. Remember I told you I named AC-B 5 'Jon' until I discovered the falzorn?”

  “No,” she said emphatically, “no, you don't! We're not naming the planet Jon.”

  “Wow. Don't overreact. I think the name speaks volumes. It carries dignity and has a real presence.”

  She narrowed her right eyes. “What does that even mean?”

  “It means Jon's the perfect name.” She narrowed her left eyes too. “How ’bout a moon? The place has five. Can one be Jon?”

  “Yes,” she smiled, “and you can choose which one.” She held out a hand. “Deal?”

  I grabbed her hand, but instead of shaking it, I pulled her to me. I planted a big kiss on her lovely lips. Mid-kiss, I said a muffled, “Deal.”

  After she relaxed, she gave me her serious face. “I think I have a name. You must promise to listen to it and not laugh or make fun of it. This's important, and I've given it a lot of thought.”

  I raised three fingers. “Scout's honor. I'll behave.”

  She looked down and scrapped a foot across the deck. “Azsuram. I want it to be known as Azsuram.”

  “Al,” I shouted over my shoulder.

  “Pilot,” came his reply.

  “Please note in the ship's log. Time and date now. GB 3 is henceforth to be known only as Azsuram.”

  “Copy that. Done.”

  “Don't you want to know what the word even means?” she asked.

  “Nope. The name's official. So, what's for lunch?”

  “Calrf, and lots of it. In your case, the one with evalgian in it.”

  “Hey, I happened to like that deadly poison.”

  “Well, I'll put a lot of it, then.” She flashed her teeth.

  “Oh,” I asked innocently, “what does Azsuram translate as? I've been meaning to ask for the longest time.”

  “Oh, you have?”

  “Al, when was it I asked you what you thought Azsuram meant? Long time ago, right?”

  “We were barely out of our youths.” Gotta love the Al!

  “It means,” she said, “love of others.”

  I smiled as provocatively as I could. “You mean like an orgy?”

  Ow! She hit my arm pretty hard there. “No, you pig! Like your word caritas.”

  “Wow. Latin? You're really branching out, dear. Quite the linguist.”

  Ow! That was definitely harder. Maybe too hard, in spite of me being made of metal. So, our growing troop was about to set foot on Azsuram for the first time. I couldn't wait.

  Rather than shuttling down, I elected to land Shearwater herself. Toño designed that capability. It beat endless trips lugging down this and that, piecemeal. Hey, we were staying a while, weren't we? Why not just land the entire enchilada and be done with it? Plus, the ship would provide good shelter until we built the encampment.

  Landing a big ship is a blast! I wouldn't let Al help, which drove him crazy. He was absolutely certain I'd crash the ship and kill everyone aboard. O ye, of little faith! I did fine. Barely scraped the hull. Well, barely dinged it, really. A dent, maybe, at most. Seriously. But, what the heck? I'm the captain! Who's going to complain? Beside Al that is, for like, the next century. It was like it was his ship, not mine.

  Al and I had lots of experience scoping out a planet from above. We found an ideal location to begin a settlement well before we landed. I was first down the ramp, being captain and all.

  Azsuram, at least that part of it, was magnificently beautiful. It was discovered by Seamus O'Leary, the pilot of Ark 4. I've known him since the start of Project Ark. Good man. He was, however, given to hyperbole. He was of Irish descent, so of course he was. Anyway, he exaggerated not. The planet was amazing. Abundant, clear, fresh water and a perfect oxygen content. More importantly, Azsuram had a powerful magnetic field, stronger than Earth's had been. That would keep us safe from dangerous radiation and, critically, mass ejections from the parent star.

  We brought a lot of prefabricated structures with us. Those would be the initial buildings. In time, we could construct housing with native materials. Ultimately, when the population was large enough, steel manufacturing would be added. But that was a century off. We were pioneers in a pastoral setting. Settlers, like so many before us back home. I kind of wish I could have worn a coonskin hat and carried a musket. Like all boys, I longed to be Davy Crockett or Jim Bowie. Just my luck. No local raccoons to skin, and I hadn't thought to bring one. Crap!

  Jon Jr. and I did most of the construction. Toño helped here and there, but he always preferred working alone in his precious lab. Sapale and the older children were occupied with raising the younger kids. Oh, and there were two recently added additions. Soon after Fashallana delivered her twins, Sapale popped out another pair. Vhalisma, meaning “drinks love,” and Draldon—a boy, yay—meaning “runs to meet the day.” Fashallana named her girls Noresmel, for “kiss of love,” and Almonerca, “sees tomorrow.” Once all the little ones discovered terra firma, they scurried every which-way and needed a lot of supervision. That was okay. It gave Jr. and me a lot of time to talk and just generally hang out together. He'd grown into a handsome, strong young man. I should say, young chur. Chur was the equivalent on Kaljax for our word man, as in the male of their species. Women were chu. Their word for human, as in the name of their species, was churil.

  I couldn't have been more proud of JJ. I'd never suffer someone I loved by addressing them as “Junior.” He'd learned several dialects of Kaljax and spoke English like a Californian, dude. One day, while we assembled a one-story housing structure, I asked him how he was getting by as the only man surrounded by an ever-growing gaggle of women.

  “I'm not,” he defended, “surrounded by girls. There's you and the doctor.” After a shrug, he added, “Plus, Mom says there'll be more men soon. She thinks there may be enough healthy females to allow it.”

  “Yeah, I think that'll happen soon.”

  “Toss me that wrench,” he said. “Thanks. I got no complaints. Not like the doctor. His prospects are positively grim. I don't see any human woman being around for a long time.”

  “I spoke to him about it. He's okay with that.” Time to mention what for me was the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. “What about you? You feel like you're missing a part of your life.”

  He knew exactly what I was getting at. “What part?” He was my boy! A real hard case.

  “You know, sex.”

  “Dad!”

  “Dad, what? You are familiar with the concept. I've heard your mom lecture all of you about it, time and again.”

  “I'm not talking about my sex life with my father. Get over it!”

  “Jon, Jon, Jon. Come on. It's part of my rol
e as a proper father to have the talk about the birds and the bees with my boy.”

  He looked around with a scowl. “What birds? I don't see any. And the only bees I know of are on worldships sixteen light-years away from here.”

  “You know what I'm saying. All dads have a talk about sex with their sons.”

  “Did your dad have one with you?”

  He had me on that. “Not exactly.”

  “Which means,” he said, “no. So why do I get one if you were spared?”

  “That was different; the times were different.” I sounded pretty unconvinced myself.

  “How? You make me believe they were, and I'm all ears.”

  Did I mention he was a tough guy? “Well, for one, I had friends to talk to about such matters.”

  “Dad, I have, like, twelve sisters. What? Do you think we just talk about Kaljax's history and the current weather?”

  “Well,” I said sinking, “I was able to tap into computer files and holos on the topic.” He tossed the wrench to the ground and showed me his handheld. Yeah, that did sort of link him to all databases and holos from Earth and a good deal from Kaljax I'd brought back. “Well, truth be told, my old man didn't love you as much as I love you. He was always too busy and stuff to take the time to give me the instruction I so desperately wanted and needed.”

  He crossed his arms, much like his mother did when she was mad at me. “You wanted the Talk desperately? Why do I not believe you?”

  Hands to chest, I responded, “You think I'd lie about such a sensitive and important subject?”

  “Yes.”

  Wow, he didn't take long to answer. “No dessert for you tonight. Maybe none the rest of your life!”

  “So, you done flapping your gums? Can we get back to work?” He rolled all four of his eyes. “I can't believe I'm the one asking that.”