Forever Series 4: The Forever Quest

by Craig Robertson

  I did some back-of-the-envelope calculation. “That would result in…”

  Kymee placed his palms together and pulled them apart. “Boom.”

  “No. BIG BOOM.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, I believe you’re correct.”

  “So, if Wrath had, say, a QD, and it QD’d the leading edge of, oh, I don’t know, a Berrillian fleet in a warp bubble…”

  He placed his palms together and threw them wide apart. “Big boom.”

  “And, if Wrath had one of these, theoretically, how accurate would it be?”

  “You could QD the rectal tissue of a fly’s rectum from a thousand kilometers.”

  “Kymee. I’m shocked and disturbed by your use of vulgar language. I’m only glad Yibitriander isn’t here to hear it.”

  “He’d probably bust a vein in his neck, wouldn’t he?”

  “Can we call him here really quick and find out?”

  We laughed.

  Two hours later, Wrath had a QD installed, and I was fully debriefed as to its use and maintenance. There was no maintenance. It was Deavoriath tech.

  “I’ll remind you of what you know. This is an outstanding weapon in space. If a random hydrogen atom is in your firing line, it’ll explode. If you tried to fire it in an atmosphere, well, you’ll quickly wish you hadn’t,” explained Kymee.

  Made sense.

  After we bumped shoulders, I asked the obvious question. “So why the winning edge? Won’t you get in trouble?”

  “Because I wanted to, and because I don’t care. Your people deserve a better fate. The Berrillians deserve to die.”

  “And One That Is All? Won’t they be upset?”

  “Screw them.”

  “Kymee, really. That mouth of yours. I’m starting to dig it.”

  “Seriously, Jon. A bunch of million-year-old prudes sit around contemplating their navels with all three thumbs up their butts. They would let good people die and bad people live because they’re so self-obsessed. Screw them. I can do as I please. That has always been our way. If they don’t like it, what are they going to do? Fire me? Send me to my room? Hardly. No, I worry less and less about the common wisdom and value more the individual. I value you,” he poked me in the chest. “You have a family to love and protect. Even a miracle man like you would have trouble doing that from the grave.”

  I hugged him. No words were said. We just had a good hug.

  TWENTY

  Dolirca sat on her bed with her Toe, One and Two. She’d given them their names when she was very young, so they were pretty basic. She never considered changing them. Her imagination didn’t run in those directions. They were One and Two, she was Dolirca, and up was up. There wasn’t any more to it.

  What she did think about was order. Order was a good thing. It made life not only livable, but enjoyable. That others valued it less was their failing. She did so hate failing, both in herself and in others. If she had a deficiency, she worked hard and corrected it. She had, for example, loved her stepfather. That was a weakness. He could use her love to manipulate her. If she was malleable and he made her into something she was not, that was a failing. So, she worked long and hard, and she stopped loving him. Hence, her life was more orderly, more in control. That made it a happier life.

  She’d loved her mother, but that wasn’t her fault. The laws of nature dictated that one loved one’s mother. She was a biological entity and subject to the rules and constraints incumbent upon such units. Fortunately, her mother was dead. It was a happy twist that her mother was killed while Dolirca was still so young. She was removed from Dolirca’s life before any real damage could be inflicted. That saved her the trouble of killing her mother, which would have logically been her only choice. To unlearn loving a mother would be very hard. Dolirca would have hated to waste so much time and effort at a thing the Berrillians did so economically.

  She brushed One’s pelt as they all three sat on her bed. Every night, each of her guards received one hundred strokes from her stiffest brush. Never ninety-nine, never one hundred two. Those options would be ludicrous. Even if their skin started to bleed and they squirmed in pain, one hundred brush strokes was the correct number. Her hair also needed one hundred brush strokes to be orderly.

  If she cared enough about her brood-mate, she’d see to it he also received one hundred brush strokes also. He was not worth the expenditure of her time, however. A female needed to have a brood-mate just as certainly as a male had to have a brood’s-mate. To do otherwise would be ludicrous. Nature made demands, and those demands had to be attended to. A few times she tried to brush his hair properly, but he said it was silly and couldn’t they do something else? Perhaps they could have sex or dinner or sit and watch a holo. He was flawed, deeply flawed. She doubted she could repair him and was certain she didn’t care to.

  He children were going to be orderly, that much was certain. They were still young and given to laughter and play, but she’d help them grow well, properly. They would forget about their father just as completely as she had forgotten him. Soon, he would need to have a tragic accident. Yes, that would remove him from the picture. She had his sperm stored. The thought that she or the children needed him to be physically present was ludicrous.

  No, she saw the importance of order, and for that gift, she was sublimely happy. She would remain orderly herself. Her children would grow to be orderly. Her world would, with her firm yet loving hand, become orderly. No more inefficient discussions in council. No more art projects wasting time and money. No more excess food to make Kaljaxians fat and lazy. Fat, lazy people were inherently unhappy. If she didn’t help make them happy, what kind of mother to Azsuram would she be? A ludicrous one, that much was certain.

  Pivotally, Azsuram could not be a happy world until all the aliens and walking machines were destroyed. Azsuram was a world for Kaljaxians. Hadn’t that been her poor, dear mother’s law? Diluting her people’s purity with the waste of other races was, well, it was ludicrous. No, those pollutants would be expunged so that everyone could be happy.

  Happy was good. Soon, she would take control and make Azsuram as happy as she was. Happiness thorough order. Say, that was a nice slogan. A vision of her campaign to purify Azsuram began to gel in her mind. She could see the future. Yes, there it was. She reached out and almost touched it with her fingertips.

  “Make Azsuram strong again. Happiness through order,” she said aloud. “It has such a magical ring to it, doesn’t it One and Two?”

  One and Two agreed silently. They had not been given permission to speak.

  TWENTY-ONE

  I had Wrath materialize along the straight line drawn between Deerkon and the worldships. He located their position in warp space, and we rematerialized a couple million kilometers in front of them.

  The Berrillian fleet was much smaller than I’d faced before, only around a thousand ships. That reinforced my notion that this assault on the worldship fleet was a side operation and not part of a major incursion. Too bad. I would have prefered to kill a lot more of them.

  They clearly detected my appearance. They spread out significantly. From our earlier encounter, they had to feel pretty confident that most would get past me. What I learned from our last encounter was where Havibibo’s flagship was located. Yeah, I wanted him to see all his people die before he joined them. Son of a bitch.

  So, it was time to test my ultimate weapon. In two centuries, I’d seen my share of foolproof plans blow up in the users face, so I wasn’t at all certain I was in the catbird seat. I ordered Wrath to target the final vessel in the Berrillian attack formation, said fire, and closed my eyes. I guess I was waiting to hear a boom. I know, silly, but I finally peeked one squinted eye at the viewport. There was a blinding ball of fire where the ship had been. Outstanding. I danced a little jig alone on the bridge. Professional military behavior? No. We’re talking Jon Ryan here, right? Abundant joy at the death of living souls? Not if they were Berrillians. Not in my book.

  There was n
o way they could know what happened, that a new weapon was in play. We were light-weeks away from the worldship fleet. I had time. I had Wrath maintain our relative position in front of the Berrillians, retreating toward the worldships. They were at superluminal speed, so we couldn’t match their pace. We had to leapfrog back through folds of space.

  After an hour, I had Wrath pick off two trailing ship. The QD worked like a dream. After another hour, I ordered him to take out four rear-positioned ships. As the pattern developed, I was confident they’d start sweating really good. If one knew exactly when one’s ship was going to explode, one kind of had to worry, to develop foreboding and angst. Mutiny might cross the crews’ minds. There certainly had to be a lot of active discussion among the crews of the ships in back. Awe. Poor kitties. It was so sad. The mean man with the QD was upsetting them.

  Before I ordered sixty-four ships fried, Wrath spoke up. “Form, why are we toying with these inferiors? Let me kill them all for the glory of Azsuram.”

  “No. We will kill them all, but I will do it my way, the slow way. I want these cats to suffer.”

  “Sentimentality has no place in war,” he scorned.

  “You didn’t hold Sapale in your arms after what they did to her. If there were a crueler, more hateful way to eliminate them, I’d do it.”

  “I understand vengeance. My name is Wrath, after all. But death in war is not a game. We owe it to war to kill them swiftly and completely.”

  “We what? We awe a debt to war? Wrath, you’re significantly more insane than I thought. War is A, not a living being a debt can be owed to and B, deserving of any consideration if it were. War is the mindless amalgamation of the hate, stupidity, and greed of those incapable of love. I’ve seen a lot of things in the universe, and I’ve never seen anything as ugly and as wrong as war. Never speak to me of it in a positive light again. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes, Form. We can discuss our differences after the battle.”

  “Maybe we can, but we sure as hell won’t. You will never change my mind, and I doubt you have one to change. You are a killing machine. That’s all you want to be, so it is all you ever will be. When we first met, I was making things up as I went. But now, I am a Form, and you are my vortex manipulator. This is my vortex, not yours. That’s how it works. That’s how it has always worked. I will not allow you to think you have a say or an opinion in any matter of morals or conscious.” I lightened up some. “Maybe over a very long time you can become better, but as of now, you serve me. End of story. Now target those sixty-four ships and continue to withdraw.”

  “Aye, Form.”

  His tone was a neutral as I’d ever heard it. If he was pissed off, I couldn’t care less. If his feelings were hurt, good.

  By the next day, there was only one salvo of QD disturbances left to destroy all the ships but one. Throughout my dismemberment of his armada, Havibibo made no course changes or attempts to contact me. I think he long since figured out there was no escape and no defense possible. I knew he’d much rather die than surrender, so why bother doing anything differently?

  Finally, there were only two ships heading toward the worldship fleet. Mine and his. He remained at FTL speed, and we hopped backward to match his pace. I allowed days to pass, waiting to see if he would do anything desperate. I also wanted him to suffer the anger and rebellion of his crew as long as possible. Finally, I decided it was time to terminate the engagement. Part of me wanted to face Havibibo and wring his life out of his body. Part of me knew that was stupid. If Wrath or I was lost, who would protect the humans? Davis could, of course, but he lacked my tools.

  In the end, smart Jon won out over impulsive Jon. I did hail him, however.

  “Havibibo, it is your time to die,” I said. “I hope the loss of your ships was painful, but I know you well enough to know it wasn’t. You’re all rage and fury and are incapable of love or understanding. That makes you and your species truly inferior to mine. It is why you failed before with the Deavoriath and why you will fail again. I wanted you to know that before you’re vaporized.

  “The last thing I want you to know is that your other half, Kelldrek, is still alive. I have held her in a small cage and fed her vegetable mush. She has not seen the sky or breathed fresh air since I took her. She will die in that cage. I want you to carry that weight with you into your afterlife because it is all your doing. It is all your fault. If you had negotiated, if you had relented, or if you had simply left us alone, she would not suffer as she does. Her endless disgrace is your eternal curse. I fire in one minute.”

  Thirty seconds later, Havibibo dropped into real space and came to a full halt.

  “Is he powering weapons?” I called out to Wrath.

  “No. He’s sitting dead in space. There is even very little activity aboard. He’s… wait. He’s returning your hail.”

  “Put it on screen.”

  There sat Havibibo, alone. He was in his captain’s chair, one leg lazily draped over an armrest as he picked absently at his claws. As an afterthought, he looked up at me and spoke. “Jon. Hello, my almost friend. It is good to face you again in mortal combat. You have done well. I am proud of you. Congratulations on a victory well earned.”

  “Fuck you,” I said flatly. “I mean that sincerely, by the way, with all the trappings the expression carries. Don’t patronize me or, worse yet, insult me with your praise. If I need the adulation of scum, I’ll lift my toilet seat and ask for it. Yours I don’t want.”

  “But you have won. I am impressed. How should I respond? Wait,” he stood up, placed his paws together, and bowed deeply. “Oh mighty human warrior, General Captain Jon Ryan, forgive me for being such a worthless piece of shit. Please know I and my race are bad, you are good, and all the universe rightly sings your praises.”

  He sat back down with his other leg dangling. “That better, son of a dresmal?”

  “No. In fact, why don’t we do this? You shut up, and I’ll blow you up. Hmm?”

  “If you wanted me dead, I would long since be. Your species is new to us. I wish to understand what it is you require of me other than to die that is so important.”

  “Nothing.”

  “I’m betting there is. You know what? I did receive word that Tantelpro, one of my fiercest warriors, killed a Kaljaxian female shortly before he was slaughtered.” He tapped thoughtfully at his ear. “I’m wondering if she was your other half. Wouldn’t that be funny? In fact, even if she wasn’t, I will hold that thought as you kill me, so I die with a huge smile. Thank you—”

  “Fire.”

  The screen turned to flickers and pops, then the wide shot showed his flagship erupt into a hot flash.

  “Take us to Azsuram.”

  “By your command, Form”

  I arrived back at the worldship fleet two days later. They obviously hadn’t known if or when to expect me back, but apparently, it was not that quick by a wide margin. My handheld exploded with incoming calls, and dozens of people rushed to my landing spot. I told everyone the same thing. I’d discuss what happened with everyone, together, once. I said we’d all meet in Mandy’s large conference room in two hours. That gave everybody a chance to come, especially the UN folks on Exeter. It also gave me a chance to bounce Gallenda on my knee and hold Kayla to my side. I needed that more than I wanted to admit.

  I entered the conference room fashionably late. Okay, I owned it. I was being dramatic, and it felt damn good. There were, in an immortal lifetime, only a handful of opportunities to be so awesome. I reveled in my spotlight.

  “I know you’re all anxious to hear my report.”

  People leaned forward in their seats.

  “The Berrillian threat is completely gone. I destroyed every ship coming toward the worldship fleet.”

  A gasp of surprise rose from the crowd. Then a cheer rose.

  “I had much better luck this time then I did when they attacked Azsuram. There were also fewer enemy vessels. Either way, we are all safe for the time being. I also ma
de a concerted attempt to neutralize the danger posed by Varrank Simzle. Toño will be happy to learn I relieved him of a burden he has chafed under at the same time.

  “Before returning here, I stopped by Azsuram. I picked up Kelldrek. I told her her mate was officially dead and that Varrank was responsible for it. I then transported her to Varrank's palace and released her. I provided her with a backpack full of explosives, two captured Berrillian laser rifles, and detailed map of the compound. I also slipped a nano-transmitter into her ear. Let me show you the video:

  Kelldrek leaped on the front entrance and knocked the door open. She rolled to the floor and began shooting. The handful of guards on duty were all dead before they could bring up their weapons. She bounded up a stairway, heading toward Varrank's quarters. A few meters into the hallway, three guards dropped to their knees and opened fire. She kept charging and firing. One, two, three, their chests blew open, and they were thrown backward.

  She jumped over the bodies and skidded around a corner. A Quelstrum was running in her direction. He lunged for her neck, but she kicked off the floor in a split second and slammed her fangs into his neck. Her momentum spun her body around him like the arm of a clock, blood spurting out in huge fountains. She pulled him to the floor and released him. The decapitated guard's head rolled to the wall and thudded to a stop.

  Kelldrek turned and sprinted on. As she passed an open door and she tossed a grenade in without slowing. The explosion thundered behind her as she continued ahead. She arrived at Varrank's quarters. She shot the door to pieces and flew threw the gaping hole. A handful of guards were waiting and opened fire on her immediately.

  The camera jerked a few times suggesting she was hit. If so, it didn't slow her.

  She returned fire and rolled behind a couch. The brief exchange ended when the last guard grabbed his neck and spun to the floor.

  She rushed though a series of room with blinding speed. Occasionally she ran into someone and killed them whether they were armed or not. Entering an ornate bedroom, she scanned side to side. No one was there. As she turned to retrace her path, the camera lurched a few more times, and she howled in pain. Two Quelstrums stepped through the door, firing rapidly. She leaped at them, a laser flashing in both paws. Both men jerked backward as they were hit and struggled to remain standing.