V_The 2nd Generation

by Kenneth Johnson

  Ysabel cocked her sprightly head toward him. "We need teamwork action, amigo."

  Nathan emitted a caustic little laugh. "Yeah, well your 'actions' haven't been all that effective lately."

  "When you're right, you're right." Julie sighed as she stood to relieve the pain from the old pulse wound in her hip. "When Diana created the Teammates the odds really swung against us."

  Street-C nodded. "Got that right. Then her 'Great Purge' back in '99 all but kicked our ass for good." His eyes narrowed at Nathan. "Guess you were one of the ass-kickers, huh?"

  "Yeah, I'm sorry to say I was." Nathan was sincere and genuinely curious. "But how'd Diana ever get so much inside intelligence?"

  "We never found out who betrayed us"—Margarita took a cup of tea that Blue was offering her—"but we had to start all over again. And it's gotten steadily harder."

  "You know what it's like out there, Nathan." Julie paced slowly among the group, leaning on her cane. "Over time millions of people have been seduced just like you were into believing The Big Lie—that the Visitors are actually a good thing."

  "Or people go along because the Visitors are such an intimidating hyper-power," Gary added. "Most Visitors on our side, like your friend Sarah, have been ferreted out and killed. Only a few of our bravest spies are still alive."

  "They're in constant danger." Clearly Julie was concerned for them. "And we have no one inside the Visitor High Command."

  "Actually," Gary said, opening the gray envelope he'd gotten from Harmy, "Willy had an idea for a new recruit who might have some access."

  Margarita's auburn eyebrows went up when she read the name. "Emma. Well, she's certainly connected."

  "Let's figure out the best approach to her," Julie counseled, then looked at their newest volunteer. "Meantime you're welcome here, Nathan. If you think you can work our way."

  Nathan gazed at her a moment, uncertain about that himself, but he finally nodded tersely.

  Margarita was watching him closely as she rubbed the back of her forefinger against the tip of her nose. She was not thoroughly convinced about him.

  Outside the warehouse, violet-eyed Kayta was moving stealthily through the abandoned and rusting industrial area as her remarkably sensitive nostrils sniffed the air. She had already spotted and avoided the female lookout nestled in a pile of tires and junk at the far end of the ratty complex. Kayta began to hear a buzzing sound and her nose led her toward a dark, greasy garage where she saw the car that Margarita had used for her getaway with Nathan. A thick swarm of insects was buzzing around the gelatinous blob of pheromone Bryke had shot onto the side of the car. Kayta assessed the location and the old warehouse carefully.

  Then she spoke quietly into her pin, "I think Phase Two has been achieved, Ayden. I believe he has led us to their principal base." A ragged crow was watching Kayta from a broken fence, but when the bird caught sight of the gleam in her strange violet eyes it grew uncomfortable and took flight. A faintly ironic smile slowly formed on Kayta's lips and she settled in to wait.

  10

  THE IMPOSING, SQUARE-SHOULDERED VISITOR PATROL CAPTAIN WHO headed Debra Stein's Teammate unit was just stepping out the front door of the Stein house. He held his uniform cap in his hands. His strong African-American features bore a sad expression. His deep bass voice was solemn. "I am so very sorry." He gently touched Stella Stein's shoulder. The stout woman had suffered an emotional shock and was crying. The captain said goodbye and walked slowly out toward his shuttle craft, which was idling in the street.

  Stella watched him go, still stunned by his news. Her daughter Debra stood nearby in her Teammate uniform trying to tough it out and hold her own emotions in check, but young Danny could barely wait for the door to close before he exploded in fury, "It's a damn lie!"

  Stella was feeling weak in the knees. "Danny, please . . ."

  "He lied to you, Mom!"

  Debra glared at him. "Watch your mouth, Dan."

  "Oh, sit on it, Debra," he fumed. "Dad wasn't 'killed by the Resistance' like that captain said. The Visitors took him away! I saw it!"

  "Oh, yeah," his sister said with a smirk. "Like I'm so sure the captain would lie to us."

  "I saw it, Debra! You've just got your fat head so far up their asses that—"

  "Stop it! Both of you!" Stella blurted through her tears. "Do you think I want to believe that your father's dead?"

  "If he is it was the Visitors that killed him."

  Debra turned on her heel. "I won't listen to your bullshit"—but then she spun back and looked daggers at him—"and let me tell you something, Dan: you keep it up and I'll report you."

  Danny watched her storm down the short hallway into her room. Then he turned to his mother and tried his best to present a calm, rational demeanor. "I saw them take him, Mom. Up there." He pointed upward toward their ceiling and the Flagship above it.

  Stella stared at her boy, her insides churning from the conflict between Danny's firm conviction, Debra's fiery Teammate dedication, her own distress over her missing husband, and the mystery of Sidney's actual fate.

  JEREMY WAS ENJOYING HIS POSITION AT THE CENTCOM'S TOPMOST level. A large portion on the north side of the Flagship's Executive Level 125 housed all of the command and control facilities for the great Mothership. It also contained the Command Center for the entire Visitor Armada. It was from this Centcom that fleet operations were coordinated and directed for all of the 250 Motherships. It was nearly the size of a football field and four stories tall, with each higher level set back slightly from the one below it. All the levels faced the transparent outer wall of the great ship through which could be seen the sky above and San Francisco below. The window wall was heavily tinted during the day to protect the sensitive eyes of the Visitors. Inbound and outbound Visitor craft were constantly seen cruising past.

  On all levels of the Centcom there were charting sections for strategizing military movements and following ongoing maneuvers. Virtually all of the thousands of Visitor craft in the air anywhere in the world were represented on one or more of the many visualizers. All of the optical information was realized in high-definition, three-dimensional, holographic-style displays that could be rotated for examination from any angle. The same could be done from the hundreds of smaller, individual stations that crowded the huge space. Holographic projections hovered in the air above each station's console. They were interactive so that Visitor technicians could literally reach into the image before them and make adjustments. On other visualizers, data and statistics were constantly changing and updating. Scores of technicians glided from one level to a higher or lower one on small pallets, which floated by means of Visitor antigravity technology.

  There was a low buzz of dialogue from the technicians reflecting their constant communication with similar control centers on various Motherships or specific vehicles in transit, in departure, or on approach.

  Jeremy sat in the commandant's chair that was always reserved solely for Diana, but since Jeremy was at that moment addressing by teleconference all of the captains aboard their individual Motherships, Diana had courteously relinquished it to him, temporarily.

  Watching from a seat nearby, Diana's graciousness was merely on the surface. She was still seething over Jeremy's elevation to equal rank with her. What was gnawing at Diana even more than his promotion was the uncertainty of Jeremy's new closeness and personal relationship with their Leader. Diana had always enjoyed the privilege of being the one most intimate with the Leader, both professionally and personally. While Diana was wise enough to know that the Leader enjoyed occasional dalliances, Diana had also been given to understand that the Leader held her in the highest regard both as a Commandant and as a sexual partner.

  The Leader's few communications with Diana since Jeremy's arrival, however, had seemed to Diana to be ever so slightly off-key from their normal personal intimacy. Diana was also wise to the ways of palace intrigue, having been the author of many such maneuverings herself. She knew that Je
remy was an extremely astute and dangerous challenger. She had resolved to scrutinize his every move and turn of phrase from which she might gain advantage.

  Martin, standing to the rear, was taking it all in. As Jeremy spoke to the Mothership captains, Martin saw that Diana was determined not to show how much she was chafed by Jeremy crowding her authority. Her closest aide, Shawn, exercising that subtle cleverness that Martin knew was inherent in his nature, had strategically positioned himself behind and between the two Commandants. Martin could tell that Shawn was already beginning to play both ends against the middle, so that whichever Commandant came out on top, shrewd Shawn would be in the winning camp. Martin watched the subtle expressions playing across Diana's face and felt he had correctly deduced much of what she had been thinking. He also saw that she was idly toying with the controls of a vid screen while Jeremy was talking.

  "And I'm speaking with the full personal authority of our Great Leader," Jeremy was saying firmly, causing Diana to shift slightly in her chair. "Our main Earth-based research facility here in San Francisco has developed a new chemical compound that will be our principal weapon in a grand new conquest against an old and dangerous enemy. I want the senior Patrol captains from each of your ships to report here immediately for training with this new weaponry."

  Martin noticed that during Jeremy's discourse Diana had brought up on her holographic display a view of a detention cell somewhere in the dark bowels of the Flagship. A guard could be seen tossing scraps through the laser grid at the mouth of the dark cell. Martin could barely see the ragged prisoner within. With wild hair and beard that had gone uncut for years, the human crawled on all-fours and looked to be a crippled, skittish beast.

  Jeremy concluded his transmission to the Motherships and signed off. As he rose, he glanced at the prisoner on Diana's screen and chuckled. "Bigfoot?"

  Diana clicked off the image, and smiled privately. "No. A personal souvenir. A special prisoner."

  Jeremy ignored her comment and headed out, motioning to the press secretary. "Paul, we'll be getting a VIP very soon. We need to talk." Shawn waited diplomatically for Diana to stand, then followed her out. Martin held back, he was curious about the unique, bestial prisoner Diana had been viewing. He traded a private look with a brown-haired Centcom technician who had the face of a thirty-year-old human. Her large eyes were as soft as they were dark. Martin knew her name was Lee and that she was one of the few remaining Visitors stationed in the Centcom who was sympathetic to the Resistance. Lee understood Martin's silent glance. She began to casually search out the location of the cell holding the peculiar prisoner.

  AT ABOUT THE SAME TIME, JULIET PARISH WAS IN HER BATTERED, LOWrent communications truck speaking fluent French with one of the key European Resistance chiefs. "That's excellent, Michel. Try to reach Anthony in Brussels. It's critical for him to get those new vids out and also up into the Netherlands. Let's talk again at 1400 Zulu. Good-bye."

  Ysabel broke off the contact, impressed as always by Julie. "You go, girl."

  Julie sighed. "But we've got to do better, Ysie. See if you can get a signal through to New Delhi. Give me a yell."

  As she climbed out of the truck she saw that scruffy Ruby had been listening nearby while eating a banana. Ruby spoke to her in halting French, "I think I actually understood most of that."

  Julie kissed the girl's scaly cheek and continued in French, "I've got a very smart daughter."

  "I've got a very cool momma." Then Ruby said softly in English with shyness that was uncharacteristic and therefore charming, "Don't you think he's sorta cute?" Ruby threw a quick, bashful glance toward Nathan across the warehouse. Ruby had noticed that she often felt a fluttering lightness like butterflies in her stomach when she looked at Nathan. And when she found herself physically near him she would often be surprised by a flood of feeling. She still wasn't quite sure what it all meant, but she had noticed how she always contrived to be near to where he was. She'd also realized that when she was close to him an unusual warmth seemed to pervade her young body.

  Julie correctly diagnosed that the girl had developed a crush on the young man. Julie scrunched up her nose sourly and gently teased Ruby, "Him? Eeeyew."

  Ruby punched Julie's arm playfully and giggled with embarrassment. "Mom! Not funny."

  Julie laughed, making her dimples deepen. Then she tousled Ruby's bright chestnut hair as she whispered, "Yes, I think he's cute, too. But you might be a little too mature for him."

  Ruby felt encouraged. "You know his dad was a native Hawaiian but his mom came from Europe, so he's sort of a half-breed, too."

  "Like I always told you, Rube . . ." Julie smiled as Ruby nodded and finished the catechism.

  " 'One way or another we're all half-breeds.' " Then Ruby concluded in French, "What a smart mom." They walked on together, Ruby holding Julie's arm and leaning against it as Julie inquired after the progress of her other schoolwork. In spite of their circumstances, Julie insisted on Ruby putting in an appropriate number of study hours every day. As with many children forced to live in hiding, Ruby's education continued in as organized a fashion as possible. The other adults also lent a hand. They all enjoyed helping Ruby because she was more than just an eager student. She found such sheer enjoyment in merely being alive that when she came into a room people often felt inclined to laugh with delight.

  Across the large warehouse, Nathan had been watching curiously from where he and Margarita were unpacking blank vid disks from a van. He felt a bit confused. "Julie's her mother?"

  Margarita shook her head. "No, Ruby's mother died in childbirth. Julie delivered her, raised her. Me, too, since I was seven."

  "After your parents got . . . ?"

  "Yeah. They caught my dad twenty years ago. It was just after he helped Julie send a distress call into space. They were trying to contact an enemy of the Visitors."

  "What, hoping that 'the enemy of my enemy might be my friend'?"

  "Yeah. Never got a response, though. Listen, there's another box of disks in the back of that truck." She pointed to it as she snagged Ysabel. "Hey, Ysie, you get that background info on Emma?"

  "Still working on it, Margarita."

  Nathan pulled open the truck's back door. Dozens of snapshots of men, women, and children formed a mosaic covering the inside of the door. He paused to look at them as Margarita stepped closer. "A little memorial. A few of the people we've lost."

  Nathan's eyes zeroed in on a familiar face, "Isn't that one . . . ?"

  "Yeah. Mike Donovan. First one to expose the Visitor agenda."

  Nathan studied the photo. Donovan's expression was intense, his eyes keen. He was in his mid-thirties, lean but broad-shouldered. His face was angular and rugged-looking. Even in the loose-fitting shirt Nathan could sense Donovan's muscularity and athletic physique. His longish hair was a light brown, just slightly darker than Nathan's own. Nathan considered the photo for a long moment, then read the handwriting on the bottom, " 'Killed, 1991.' The London Uprising?"

  "Yeah. He was leading it. He was an enormous loss to the movement. And to Julie."

  "Were they . . . ?"

  "Close," she said emphatically, making clear that the extent of their intimacy was none of Nathan's business. "They were close. A very dangerous thing to be—then or now." She lifted out the box of vid disks and turned away from Nathan, having a private flash of bad memory:

  A rainy night in Portland. An alleyway. Margarita, then seventeen, leaned out of a grungy doorway, shouting, "Jimmy! This way!" The boy, a year younger with the same auburn hair and freckles as hers, was running fearfully toward her when a fiery burst from a pulse weapon somewhere overhead knifed through the rain and blasted him full on the back of the head. He crashed into some metal trash cans and landed hard on the wet cobblestones. Margarita was over him immediately, frantic, lifting his limp, bleeding head into her lap. Raindrops coursed down her face, mixing with her tears. "Jimmy! Jesus! Jimmy!"

  A deep male voice brought Margarita back
into the present, "Hey, young lady . . ."

  Margarita looked up to see the plant worker, Blue, smiling with sad understanding and holding out a turkey sandwich to her. "You're getting way too skinny to go skipping breakfast again."

  Nathan watched her carefully as she said, "Thanks, Blue," taking the sandwich and drawing a breath. "Got busy, you know. But I took the vitamins you gave me. Oh, hey, you got any more on that new chemical?"

  "Not yet. This Sci guy I work with thinks it's weapons grade stuff. He don't know for sure, but thinks it don't affect humans."

  "So who're they going to use it against?"

  Blue shrugged. "Beats the shit outta me." All three of them puzzled over it. But Nathan's mind was churning the hardest.

  A SLIGHT BREEZE RUFFLED THE THIN, FLIMSY CURTAIN IN THE WINdow of the Elgin family's tenement in the Sci ghetto. As the current of air drifted across the wrinkled, age-spotted face of Charlotte's ailing grandfather, his eyes flickered open from the short nap. He had a faint smile on his face because he'd been dreaming about Charlotte as a little girl, about how she loved for him to comb her long raven hair because he'd always sneak a hand down to her third rib and find her tickle spot. Now in his old age she occasionally combed what was left of his hair and searched for his tickle spot.

  His vision was failing because of the diabetes, but he knew that Charlotte was nearby because of the fragrance of jasmine. He turned slightly and saw her hazy form at his arm, pouring some water for him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Poppy," she said sweetly, "I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep."

  "No, no, I'm all right," but a frown had settled into the old man's brow and he was reaching for his glasses. He put them on and looked at her with concern.

  Charlotte's beautiful long hair was gone. She had a buzz-cut. She smiled warmly. "Well, it's time for your medicine, anyway."

  "Charlotte? What'd you do to your hair?"

  She shrugged lightly. "I decided this was much less trouble. Here you go." She shook pills from his prescription bottle that was now half full.