Dark Nights

by Christopher A. Gray

  When they got out of the bus a small receiving line greeted each of them in turn. There was the Vice President of the United States, the Secretary of the United Nations, the Lieutenant General in command of Andrews, and some members of the media. The presence of the media surprised Doug. Apparently their arrival was not as secret as it had been for the Envoy on Earth. Aside from Stacey, Doug did not recognize any of the VIPs. He saw a few familiar faces scattered in the larger delegation, none of whom were on a first name basis with him on Earth.

  After the short introductions away from the microphone, the Vice President addressed the crowd.

  “On behalf of the United States of America, the United Nations, and all the people of Earth, I welcome Dr. Doug Lockwood and his team, our honored guests from the Twin Earth. This is an historic day, the first time in history that we have had visitors from another planet. Please join me in welcoming our brothers and sisters!”

  With that the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Doug and the rest of the team couldn’t help but smile and wave back in acknowledgement. Behind the larger delegation were television news vans with roof-mounted cameras and satellite dishes. Apparently their arrival was being broadcast around FLO. I’ll bet, Doug thought without a trace of humor, that the crowd was cheering wildly just before Louis XVI was beheaded.

  Stacey Lau tapped Doug on his shoulder from behind. It was the signal for Doug to step forward and offer his hand to the Vice President. The man hesitated every so slightly before smiling even wider and firmly grasping Doug’s hand in a single shake. Probably afraid of catching a rash from the alien, Doug thought wryly while suppressing a chuckle. Come on Doug. Get ahold of yourself. Do the speech and get on with it. The Vice President stepped aside to allow Doug to stand in front of the microphone. Doug turned back for a moment to nod his thanks to the VIPs, then turned to survey the crowd.

  “Thank you Mr. Vice President, honored guests and all in attendance today here and around the world,” Doug began. “The day your Envoy arrived on my Earth will go down as the most significant moment in our civilization's history. Dr. Carl Bertrand and his Envoy members have become the stuff of legend on my world. They earned our respect and our approbation. Dr. Bertrand and his team, by their intelligence, acumen and skill, shone the brightest possible light on a pathway between our two worlds.” Doug paused to catch his breath and control his voice. “It is a remarkable achievement.

  “We are here today to begin learning from your great accomplishments. We are here to understand how we may best live and grow by the very real possibility that the greatest era of peace and prosperity that both our worlds have ever known may be within our grasp. We are here to work hard, and we are here to earn your respect. We hope, with all our hearts, that we will find all that we seek. From the people of my Earth, and from my team and me, it’s a great day to be alive.” Doug raised both arms and waved to the cheering crowd.

  – 66 –

  As Bishop waited in the dim room he brought his heart rate under control, slowing his breathing and relaxing his muscles. His leg burn throbbed but the pain was bearable. Rector had given him another first aid kit in the car. Bishop had changed the dressing and bandage again during the drive. It would heal, but Bishop had wrapped it tight and taped it securely so it wouldn’t impede him.

  He glanced around the room. It was exactly as he expected. Not the best layout, which made his job difficult.

  Bishop heard someone approach the apartment door. He quietly got up from the chair and moved to the wall just around the corner from the entrance. He had already determined that the position cast no shadows and there were no reflective objects or mirrors nearby that would betray his presence to anyone entering the apartment.

  The door opened. Bishop aimed his silencer-equipped handgun to temple height, intending to shoot as soon as the target walked past. He heard the man enter and pause to remove his shoes. In seconds he would walk into position, and it would be over.

  Bishop saw a faint shadow on the floor as the man approached the target zone. He saw the tip of the man’s foot, steadied his grip and prepared to fire. Bishop tensed his trigger finger and had started the pull just as a set of keys dropped onto the floor. Bishop shot just a split second after the man bent to retrieve the keys. The bullet narrowly missed its target, hitting the opposite wall. The man reacted without hesitation, turning and charging with his head low at Bishop, impacting the right side of Bishop’s rib cage, knocking the wind out of him as he fell.

  While on his back Bishop aimed the gun at his adversary but the man kicked it from his hand before he could shoot. The gun bounced off the wall and slid noisily across the apartment floor a short distance behind him. The man was about to kick down at Bishop’s chest when he froze, a look of astonishment on his face.

  The man’s hesitation vanished as he instantly comprehended the situation. He was to be assassinated and replaced by this twin, for reasons unknown. He reached to the small of his back and produced a compact handgun, aiming it at Bishop on the floor. Before he could shoot Bishop rolled quickly back and to the left as Rector appeared and kicked the man’s feet out from under him. The man from FLO fell heavily but rolled to the center of the room and got to his feet in a combat stance to face his new assailant. But Rector had vanished, having quickly backed off into the building hallway and out of sight. The man swung the gun back to where Bishop had gone down but it was too late. Agent Bishop of Earth, kneeling on the apartment floor with a clear shot, fired twice into the man’s chest. Agent Bishop, late of FLO, collapsed to the floor. Bishop stood up quickly, took three quick strides to the body and fired another shot into the left center of his adversary’s chest.

  Bishop took a moment to steady himself. He looked at the dead man’s face and felt lightheaded and sick to his stomach. Bishop had killed up close before. But his ability to dissociate himself from the individual he killed faltered unexpectedly for a few moments. Despite going over it in his head beforehand, he was shaken at the sight of his own face, inert in death. It was enough to momentarily stop even someone as tough-minded as Bishop. He had to physically shake himself to clear his head.

  He kneeled beside the body and began working at the Raim. Rector had re-entered the apartment and closed the door. He had to work quickly. If the bracelet detected a cessation of vital signs lasting more than a few seconds it would put out a call to the local emergency responders, who would dispatch an ambulance to the Raim’s GPS location.

  Bishop took the key out of his pocket and was careful to place his thumb over the key’s fingerprint reader while touching it to the Raim. There was a frustrating pause as the bracelet lit up with the message, Do you wish to unlock?

  Bishop said “Yes I wish to unlock” in a loud, clear voice while squeezing two of his fingers under the bracelet so that his vital signs would register instead of the dead, rapidly cooling body. He was barely able to squeeze his fingers partway under the Raim. The messaged flashed on and off as the bracelet released. Bishop decided to wait a few minutes before putting it on his wrist, thinking it might register as suspicious if the wearer went to the trouble of taking it off and putting it back on immediately.

  He retrieved the body bag he had stowed under the sink earlier and was careful to close it completely around the body. He checked the bag carefully for leaks. The last thing he wanted to do was leave a blood trail. Rector then helped him move the body to the service elevator and into the trunk of the car.

  “I’m done here,” Rector said. “I’m going to meet the cell leader now. The body in the trunk will help kick loose the package that has to be delivered to the MC.” He looked down at the locked trunk. “He was my partner once. Seems like a very long time ago. He had problems.”

  Bishop looked at Rector. They were both standing behind the car.

  “Virtue will deliver” Bishop stated flatly. “Even if they’ve been hedging or stalling, the body will convince them to take the next step.”

  Rector nodded, looking away f
or a moment.

  “I have been convinced that the sacrifice is worth it,” he said turning back to Bishop and nodding his agreement, “but the sacrifice itself is always difficult.”

  Rector walked over to the driver’s door and got into the car. Bishop watched him drive away and disappear through the exit out of the underground garage.

  Bishop returned to the apartment, where he closed the Raim around his wrist and prepared for the rest of his mission on FLO.

  – 67 –

  After a short medical examination, Doug, Smith and Jamieson were taken to a private dining room to relax, have something to eat, and meet with another group of VIPs. Some of the dignitaries they’d already met had left. The Secretary General of the United Nations, a distinguished gentleman of about sixty, sat beside Doug.

  “Despite all the travelling I have done, I have never truly been to space,” the Secretary General said. “It has become fairly common among some business and government officials to take the Condor across the globe for meetings, or for tourists who can afford it to spend a weekend overseas, or even in orbit. I have taken a similar plane for hyperbolic flights across the globe, but I have not experienced weightlessness for more than a few minutes.”

  Doug had learned that the Copernicus was part of a small fleet of space planes in the Condor series that were used for government and corporate travel. Without the scientific workstations in place, most versions of the plane had seating for thirty to fifty passengers, depending on the interior layout.

  “It was very interesting,” Doug replied, as he poured some dressing on his salad. “But being aloft for six weeks takes its toll. I’m an avid cyclist and I’ve been told that helped me to adapt, but you sure feel it when you return to normal gravity.”

  “And how do you feel now?”

  “Out of place,” Doug replied, smiling slightly. “We spent six weeks traveling farther than anyone before us, and then someone opened the Copernicus hatch and we stepped out to find something that looks, smells, and feels so much like what we left behind that it is deeply unsettling. People we think we’ve known all our lives who don’t know us. The same feeling the Envoy expressed to us after their arrival.”

  The Secretary General was looking at Doug, trying to grasp the sense of displacement that was being described. He gave up and shook his head slowly.

  “We have some knowledge of the Twin, or rather, your Earth,” the Secretary General said finally. “It is fascinating to think how our evolutionary history was completely identical, until a divergence was apparently triggered by the existence and work of Norman Stravinsky. One man. His accomplishments with quantum computing are what made our current society. He is still in the field, about your age. We will try to arrange a meeting.”

  Doug could sense that the welcoming committee was reluctant to broach the problem at hand, preferring to stick to pleasantries. Nevertheless, the Secretary had just cut to the chase and offered to introduce Doug to the creator of Mekhos. Doug decided to be direct.

  “A meeting to which I will look forward sir, with thanks. It unfortunately brings to mind the problem my world faces. The actions which Mekhos took to save your world and your way of life has placed civilization on my world in the gravest danger. We face incalculable peril. We recognize the position you are in, but we want to know where we stand with regard to your various governments.”

  The Secretary General averted his gaze for a moment as he cleared his throat.

  “There is only one official position Dr. Lockwood. All governments are united when it comes to world affairs. We understand the enormity of the situation. Our scientists have been working on developing grains and other flora that are easier to pollinate and fertilize, and we will be happy to share—”

  Doug cut him off.

  “Forgive my abruptness, but we will not be patronized.” Doug fixed the Secretary with the determined gaze of a man who did not have the luxury of tolerating the typical stonewalling tactics of diplomats. He had been exposed to such maneuvering when he was a science advisor on the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Handshakes and pleasant conversations needed to be cast aside when circumstances were dire.

  “The way things stand now, our civilization in its current form is doomed,” Doug stated flatly. “Your genetically modified grains will be a palliative at best, something that might benefit the surviving population. We’d thank you for the efforts, but they won’t do anything to fix the main issue ‒ the theft of our Moon by Mekhos, and the resulting near-complete destruction of our ecosystem.”

  Doug’s strong tone was picked up by everyone in the room. Nathan Smith was at the other end of the table, talking with Stacey Lau. Smith stopped talking and stared at Doug, frowning with worry. Doug’s direct attack could impact Smith’s own assignment on FLO. The Secretary was taken aback too, but recovered almost instantly.

  “Dr. Lockwood, we will do our best to mitigate the effects of the lost orbiting body by providing policy guidance, resource management, and more. As I said, we have been working on this problem for some time and the results look promising. But as for the solution you are hoping for,” the Secretary paused for a moment before finishing. “I am certain it is out of my people’s hands. It was never in our hands from the beginning.”

  Doug had known, even before speaking, that he wouldn’t make much progress with the UN Secretary. He straightened up in his chair, and placed his hands flat on the table as he recomposed himself.

  “Thank you for your candor,” Doug said in a well controlled tone, “and thank you for allowing me to describe the needs of my people.” Doug scanned the room in a slow, moderate arc, a neutral look on his face, his head moving slightly from left to right. He deliberately looked, momentarily, directly into the eyes of a number of people in quick succession, minutely nodding his head once each time as he did so. Some tension went out of the room.

  “Dr. Persaud and I look forward to a meeting with Mekhos at the earliest possible time.” Doug said, turning back to the Secretary General.

  “I believe you are scheduled for Thursday afternoon.”

  It was finally confirmed then. Two days away.

  “I would have preferred to meet even sooner of course,” Doug replied, smiling slightly, “but Thursday certainly isn’t unreasonable. I thank you sincerely for helping to arrange the meeting.”

  He would have to settle for the date given. In the interim I will graciously accept the diplomatic overtures of our hosts.

  – 68 –

  Stravinsky was waiting at his apartment driveway. He was looking forward to trying the crepes at a new café that had opened nearby.

  The car wasn’t his usual. It was slightly older, a boxy sedan. Stravinsky glanced through the tinted window at the driver. He could barely see his outline through the dark glass, but saw him nod to get in. Stravinsky got into the back seat, took out his notebook, and said good morning to the driver.

  “Good morning sir,” the driver said in an unfamiliar voice as they drove off. Stravinsky looked up. It was the big man he saw the other day at his usual café and who had been talking to the policeman outside his building. The driver handed Stravinsky a tablet computer. The text on the screen said, Professor Stravinsky, please do not speak while you read this. Your family has been placed in danger by Virtue. They may have bugged this car, and may have compromised your Raim. Please follow the instructions on the next few pages.

  Stravinsky looked up at the driver. He wasn’t sure if this was legitimate, or if he should press the panic button on his Raim. He continued reading the text.

  You are being driven to your regular café. Once there, please exit the car without your belongings. Proceed downstairs to the men’s washroom and remove your Raim. Leave it under the sink behind the cleaning supplies. Then return to this car without speaking to anyone.

  The car pulled up to the café. Stravinsky felt dazed as he slowly got out and walked into the restaurant. The terror group was real, and had threatened his family
in the past. But why all this cloak and dagger? Why not take him to a security building? Maybe Virtue is already holding my relatives hostage and are watching my office. He entered the downstairs washroom. It was deserted.

  As the most notable member of the Limited, Stravinsky didn’t need a physical Raim removal key. He entered an exclusive removal code and took off the bracelet. He paused. What if this was a kidnap attempt and he was walking right into it? But then he thought of his mother, nieces, nephews. He couldn’t bear it if anything happened to them.

  He decided to take a small precaution against having his Raim fall into the wrong hands. He exited the washroom, walked a bit farther down the hall and opened an unmarked door to a utility room. The room contained buckets, mops, cleaning solution jugs, and shelves stocked with spare light bulbs and other supplies. Norman chose a dusty shelf that obviously hadn’t been accessed much and placed the Raim behind a box that was labeled as plumbing repair supplies. He quickly exited the utility room and jogged up the stairs. A server in the restaurant smiled at him.

  “Your usual table sir?”

  “No, not today,” Stravinsky replied as he hurriedly walked past. He got back into the car.

  They drove on in silence. The agent motioned for Stravinsky to pick up the tablet.

  You are being driven to a secure location where details will be explained. Please remain calm.

  They drove a short distance to an industrial area that looked to Stravinsky like somewhere in West Marginal or Duwamish near the bay. The driver pulled up to the entrance of what appeared to be a an old, darkened warehouse.

  “We’ve arrived sir. Please follow me.”

  They got out and walked over to a windowless, rusted steel door. Stravinsky looked at the agent.