Harbinger: Farpointe Initiative Book Three

by Aaron Hubble

  That’s what three months of wandering near the forest and living off berries and vermin will do for you.

  “On the table,” Morris said to Knapp and Corben, gesturing to a low table that stood in the middle of the room.

  The two soldiers led the man to the table, laid him down on it, and proceeded to bind his arms, chest, and legs. The man whimpered, his hoarse and cracked voice making an obvious plea for mercy even though Morris couldn’t understand the words. Morris pulled out a small device, not unlike an ancient hearing aid, and pushed it into his ear. Then he picked up a slim black tablet which flared to life at his touch. Scrolling through the menu with a flick of his finger, he found the setting he was looking for and pressed the screen.

  Morris immediately heard the man’s words being translated into Earth standard through the earpiece.

  “Have mercy, I beg you, have mercy,” the man croaked.

  Morris watched him for several quiet seconds and then spoke over the man’s pleading, the device turning his words into the native language so the man could understand. “Mercy is the very reason you’re here. My men and I saw you wandering alone and starving at the forest’s edge and felt sorry for you. We brought you here in order for you to receive help for your wounds and injuries. Judging from the look of you, I would say you’re hungry as well. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” the man said again.

  “I can also make sure you’re well fed. All I need from you is information. If you answer my questions, then everything will go well for you, and I’ll make sure all your needs are met. Do you think you can answer a few questions?”

  “Yes,” the man said.

  “Good.” Morris pulled a chair up close to the table and sat down facing the man. “Now, let’s get started. We found you near the forest. Why were you there?”

  The man licked his split and dirty lips and swallowed. “It was a good place to hide, and I could find some food in the forest.”

  Morris nodded. “Were you alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you see anyone else in the forest?”

  “No,” the man said, shaking his head. “I was all alone.”

  Morris waited, the silence heavy. The native’s eyes moved wildly. His chest rose and fell in jerks and fits, like he was on the edge of hyperventilating.

  “I don’t believe you. You’re hiding something.”

  “No,” the man said, panic rising in his voice. “It was just me, I swear it.”

  “There are others in the forest. Not just dirty vermin like you. There’s an organized, coordinated group that’s causing my people trouble. I want to know how many there are and where they’re hiding,” Morris said in an even voice.

  “I don’t know about any people hiding in the forest. If I did, I would have joined them instead of starving alone. Please believe me.”

  Morris stood from his chair and pulled another strap over the man’s forehead, securing his head to the table. The native began to cry, large tears sliding down his face.

  “Please, I don’t know anything. I was just hiding, trying to stay alive.”

  Morris pressed a button on the side of the table and it began to pivot, setting the table at an incline so the man’s feet now rose above his head. Knapp and Corben brought over large buckets of water. Morris lifted a bucket.

  “One more time. Where are the people who hide in the forest?”

  “I don’t know….”

  The man’s words were cut off as Morris dumped the bucket over his face, filling up the man’s mouth and nose. He gagged and spit, trying to push the water out and get air back in. Morris waited until the man was able to pull oxygen back into his lungs, his chest heaving.

  “How many people are in the forest?”

  “There aren’t any people…”

  Another bucket was dumped over his face, the deluge simulating the effect of drowning. The man struggled against his restraints, coughing and sputtering.

  “What kind of weapons do they have?”

  “I…”

  A third bucket of water cascaded over the man’s head. As it cleared, Morris dumped a fourth and then a fifth. The man bucked and writhed under the torture, trying desperately to get just one lungful of air into his oxygen-starved body. Morris heard a snap and saw the man’s wrist twisted at an unnatural angle. He raised an eyebrow and smirked a little. The man’s airways cleared, and a scream gurgled out of his throat.

  “This can all end. All you need to do is tell me who’s in the forest. Where are they hiding? And what kind of weapons do they have?”

  “The Ma’Ha’Nae. It’s just a story…” the man gasped. “We used to hear about it in school. But it was just a story. They left and disappeared.”

  This was new. He’d never heard this name before. Morris leaned over the man. “Disappeared into the forest?”

  “Maybe…I don’t know. Nobody knows. It’s just a story.”

  Morris straightened. “Thank you for your cooperation. To show you that I am a man of my word, I will give you the mercy you desire.”

  He unholstered his pistol, and the man’s eyes grew wide. Choked sobs escaped his cracked lips. Morris released the safety and pulled the trigger. The report of the gun reverberated off the walls and stung Morris’s ears. Blood and gray matter spattered the floor, in a starburst pattern of gore. Watching the smoke curl from the end of the barrel, Morris knew it wasn’t much, but he had something to give the admiral. Perhaps it would lead to something bigger and better.

  Hopefully, bigger and better for his career.

  ****

  The images on the holo-map were beginning to blend into each other, becoming less distinct the longer Admiral McPhall stared at them. Leaning against the table, he let the sharp edge bite into his hands, hoping the pain would sharpen his overly fatigued mind. He was sure the answer was somewhere amid the pixels of green, red and blue light. He hadn’t ascended to his current position by giving up on tough problems. No, it had been dogged determination and a willingness to run over anyone who got in his way that had put the admiral’s insignia on his crisp uniform.

  Where were they hiding?

  The fact that there was a free group of indigenous roaming the surface of the planet was no longer in doubt. The red X marks dotting the map were proof of their existence. Farms, mines, and supply depots had become the targets of well-executed and ever more sophisticated raids.

  His eyes kept going back to the forest, a massive sea of trees which had proved almost impenetrable to his ships and troops. Morris and Hildr Team had been diligent, following up on every lead and sweeping the forest for signs of life. Still, vast sections remained unexplored. The dense vegetation and enormous amounts of animal life made sensor sweeps unreliable. Pockets of native rock interfered with communication arrays. Everything on this planet seemed to be working against the plans he’d made.

  While they hadn’t found what they were looking for, they had found a cornucopia of new and vicious animals whose sole purpose in life seemed to be hunting his soldiers. The biologists would have a field day when they were allowed into the forest.

  If the forest didn’t eat them first.

  His only objective was finding and eradicating these annoying insurgents before they became a real problem and inspired hope among their people.

  Hope.

  What a dangerous little thing. It had kept R3 going on Earth. It couldn’t be allowed on this planet.

  Wherever and whoever these upstarts were, they needed to be crushed immediately.

  He pushed away from the table and crossed to the window that looked out over the blue-green globe suspended in the dark void of space. The mottled green and brown super-continent dominated his view of the planet.

  Where are you hiding?

  The door chime sounded. “Enter,” he called.

  A young lieutenant stepped into his office and saluted. “Admiral, I have your daily reports loaded into your reader.” He placed the slim aluminum device into the admi
ral’s hand.

  “Thank you, Lieutenant.” He began to scroll through the reports: troop movements, project coordination reports, communications with the surface. It was mostly mundane.

  “Is there anything of note I should focus on?” he asked, glancing up.

  “Yes, sir. Colonel Shepherd is requesting that you relay to him the plans for the arrival of the Unity Council. Their ship will be leaving soon. We haven’t received any communications from them, but that’s not unexpected. Our ability to send and receive communications over such a long distance isn’t reliable at this time. The communication buoys we’ve dropped along the way are still experimental and untrustworthy. We’ll keep trying, though.”

  “Understood. Tell the colonel I’ll relay my wishes to him soon as to what should happen concerning the arrival of the governors.”

  “Yes, sir. There is one other thing you may want to read, sir. There was another raid. This time on a mine.”

  The admiral clenched his jaw and felt tension begin to knot at the base of his skull and crawl up his scalp like a spider stalking its prey. Coupled with his fatigue, the headache which was sure to follow promised to be intense.

  “The Valkyrie?” he asked.

  The lieutenant nodded. “Yes, sir. They posed as soldiers and were able to gain entrance to the mine and free thirty-five workers. Two of our own Valkyries gave chase, but were lost somewhere in the forest.”

  “And we have no idea where they went after that?”

  “No, sir. Once they and our ships entered the canyon, we lost contact with them. There is some rock in that area that interferes with radio transmissions.”

  “Send out a recovery team. See if there’s anything salvageable.”

  “Already done, sir. They should be reporting back soon.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

  “Aye, sir.” The lieutenant turned sharply and exited the room.

  The admiral looked down at his reader and began to scan the report of the mine raid. It was all too familiar. The raiders had come in quickly. Once their identity was found out, they had fought their way into the mine and rescued the workers. For a people who supposedly had no military or weapons, they were surprisingly adept at military tactics and combat. It didn’t add up.

  His anger grew. How were they so successful? From what he’d seen of these people, there should be no way they were beating his well-trained troops. He gripped the reader tightly, and the words on the screen began to grow hazy.

  McPhall hurled the reader through the air. It crashed against the far wall, making a satisfying crunch, and clattered to the floor where it lay still. He took several deep breaths and then straightened his uniform, trying to regain the composure he worked so hard to maintain. It wouldn’t do to let his men see there was a situation which could best their admiral.

  The incoming message chime made him turn toward his desk. A holographic image was projected over his desk, indicating the message was on the direct and secure cast to which Lieutenant Commander Aedean Morris had access. Morris checked in several times a week via electronic text messages, updating the Admiral on the progress of his assignment, but he only used the direct cast when he had a potentially significant piece of information. Smoothing his uniform once again and then affecting his normally stern and impassive visage, the admiral opened the cast and Morris’s face appeared in the holo message.

  “Lieutenant Commander,” McPhall said, nodding to Morris.

  “Sir,” Morris responded.

  “To what do I owe the privilege of speaking to you directly?”

  “Sir, I don’t know if this is important, but I thought I would let you decide for yourself.” Morris reached for something the admiral couldn’t see and consulted it before looking back up. “During interrogation, a subject mentioned a name I haven’t heard any other time while on planet. This subject spoke of a mysterious group of people called the…Ma’Ha’Nae. He said it was just a story, but they were said to live in the forest. It sounds like a legend to me, but it may be worth looking into. We haven’t had any other solid clues or leads to follow in quite some time.”

  “Ma’Ha’Nae? That’s what the man said?” the admiral asked.

  “Yes, sir. Does it sound familiar to you?”

  The admiral scribbled the name on a data slate that sat on his desk. “No. It doesn’t sound familiar, but I may know of someone who could look into this for us.”

  “Very good, sir,” Morris said.

  “What is your next course of action, Lieutenant Commander?”

  “More scouting and exploring, sir. We’ll be setting up ground-based passive probes, but I don’t have much hope they’ll be any more effective than the ship-based scans. That rock is just too disruptive. Hildr team will also be putting in ground time in the northwest part of the forest.” Morris ran his hand over his short hair. “That’s all we can do right now, sir.”

  “If you find anything else, let me know.”

  Morris nodded. “Understood, sir. Morris out.”

  The holo-image disappeared as the admiral sat back down in his seat and opened a channel to the ship’s communications officer. “Ensign Kent?”

  “Yes, Admiral?”

  “Please contact Tech Specialist Cullen McPhall on the planet’s surface. He’s stationed inside the walled city.” The admiral was about to close the channel when he remembered something else. “And, Ensign, please have someone bring me a new reader. Mine met with an unfortunate accident.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Earth - 2109 Ithemba, Continental Peace Federation capital city in what was formerly Johannesburg, South Africa

  From the window of his fiftieth story office, Idi Kalu surveyed his kingdom. He would never say that out loud; it wouldn’t be proper or in keeping with CPF rhetoric. No, out loud he would call it his ‘responsibility’. That made it sound like a job and a weight he carried for the people who lived here. They needed to feel like the African governor was their advocate on the Unity Council, someone who would look after their needs and hopes for the future. It was just too bad the insects who milled around in the streets below him had no future or hope, and just didn’t know it yet.

  His chest filled with pride as he took in the gleaming city. It really was the jewel of the Continental Peace Federation. Ithemba had been under construction for years, reclaiming the burned remnants of Johannesburg. It reminded him of the horned kiwano melon native to this area. The periphery of the city with its charred buildings and broken homes was the ugly, thorny rind. The outside was death and a reminder of the past. Remove the rind, and inside was the gleaming fruit, the new capital in all of its glory. Aesthetically and technologically superior to any other city, it was truly his crowning achievement.

  That wasn’t exactly true.

  His crowning achievement was still to come. The Farpointe Initiative would be his true legacy. When the history books were written about this time, his name would be the one cited for rescuing humanity. He would be the one credited with the vision to look past the solar system for the answer to Earth’s problems. Without his vision, without his leadership, humanity would surely have died. He would say he had only been doing what was necessary and needed no accolades. That was the life of a public servant such as he.

  Gazing across the gleaming skyline, Idi felt a little sad that they’d soon be leaving it all behind. This was home, after all. The governor turned from the window and, feeling nostalgic, began walking slowly around the perimeter of the palatial office. Art and relics hung from the wall and rested on top of marble and wooden pedestals. It was all a testament to the benevolence and rise of the Continental Peace Federation. Without them the world would still be a disjointed mass of warring tribes scrabbling for resources. That was what the globe had descended into during and after the plague. For some reason yet unknown, be it a higher natural rate of resistance among Africans or the isolation of a large percentage of the population, the African continent had been the least devas
tated by the plague. For once, Africa was standing while the rest of the world was dying in disease-filled hospitals. When the wars for resources began, Africa had been once again overlooked.

  For a little while.

  After the old superpowers had nearly wiped each other out, turning much of their land into radioactive wastelands, their eyes had turned toward Africa. An exodus of those seeking refuge and a new start began to wash up on the shores of the continent like debris from a sinking ship.

  The governor stared at a picture on the wall. It was a much younger portrait of himself. He tried to remember…yes, he must have been in his twenties at that time. He’d rallied the nations of Africa and, with help of the CPF, had united them into a strong coalition. Finally, Africa had become one, a land with purpose and promise. A smile creased his dark face. Those had been exciting times.

  They’d done their best to screen those trying to get into Africa. Anyone who was sick was rejected; those who were healthy were allowed in, but placed in quarantine camps and monitored for any signs of the sickness. Families were torn apart. The process was brutal, but necessary.

  That was the decision which had put cold steel in his spine. Back then he’d been a passionate, idealistic leader whose emotions ran deep. When forced to make the decision, he’d had to push aside emotion and choose the best path for Africa.

  On a white marble pedestal sat an unexploded bomb. He ran his fingertips over the cool metal. This one had been meant to destroy him and his family. It’d been part of the first air raids that had penetrated the African defenses. Luckily for him, it had been a dud, never exploding. The bomb remained here in his collection as a reminder of how quickly things could turn.