by Aaron Hubble
His hands fidgeted nervously with the slim data slate that lay dark in front of him, its blank surface calm and empty, the opposite of everything Cullen was tonight. Thinking back, he wasn’t sure he had ever requested to meet with the admiral before. The admiral had always asked to see him. It was just the nature of their relationship.
On the data slate, Cullen had prepared a report of what he’d found about the Ma’Ha’Nae. It wasn’t much, mostly just legend and supposition. No one truly knew why a significant number of people had disappeared or where they’d gone. It would have been easier to send the file to his father electronically, but the Ma’Ha’Nae were not what he wanted to discuss. They were merely the means of securing an audience with the admiral. Cullen needed to know the truth about this invasion. He needed to look into his father’s eyes and hear it from his mouth.
Why was the CPF really here?
The thought of confronting his father was terrifying. Cullen wished he’d applied a little more antiperspirant.
With a soft swish, the door of the dining area slid open announcing the presence of his father. The admiral stepped into the room, his uniform crisp and immaculate as always. Cullen’s own clothes were wrinkled, his shoes scuffed.
Details. Wasn’t that one of his father’s mantras? Pay attention to the details. It’s what will separate you from the rabble.
Once again, even in the small things, the admiral made sure he commanded respect.
“Son,” the admiral said as he strode across the room, hand extended.
Cullen stood and nervously wiped his sweaty hand on his pants leg. He berated himself for the move. No matter how inconspicuous the swipe, he knew his father had seen it and would take it as another sign of Cullen’s weakness.
“Father.”
The admiral’s grip was as firm as always and his eyes met and held Cullen’s in a silent battle of wills. Cullen broke the gaze first, knowing it was exactly what his father wanted. The man wouldn’t lose, not in anything.
“Please.” His father gestured toward the table and they took their seats. The man’s vibrant blue eyes studied Cullen for a moment. “You look well.”
“You do as well,” Cullen said.
“Thank you. The trip up to the ship was smooth, I trust? I know how flight upsets your constitution.”
Cullen tried not to take the comment personally. He knew it had been a disappointment to the admiral when he hadn’t been able to become a pilot.
“The trip was fine. Your pilot kept the flight smooth.”
“Good.”
The admiral’s yeoman stepped into the room, poured each of them a glass of wine, then disappeared through the door again. The admiral picked up his glass, swirled the red liquid, and held his nose over the rim while he inhaled.
“I brought a couple of bottles of this with me for special occasions. It was the first vintage to be bottled after the CPF reestablished control over parts of what had been France. At one time the French were known the world over for their wine. The first governors thought a fine bottle would be just the thing to celebrate hard-won victories.”
The admiral raised the glass. “To the wisdom and forethought of the governors of the Continental Peace Federation. May what they began continue for millennia on Earth and on this brave new world.”
Cullen half-heartedly raised his glass and sipped the wine with his father. He barely tasted the liquid. It was probably very good, but the nervousness he felt was keeping him from enjoying anything.
The admiral set his long-stemmed glass down on the pristine white tablecloth. The yeoman returned with their plates of food. The admiral thanked him and dismissed the young man.
“I must apologize that there is only one course. Until we study the food produced on this planet and determine its safety and compatibility with human biological systems, we need to live off what we brought with us. Unfortunately, that means no fresh fruits or vegetables. Still, the cook does an excellent job with what he has available to him. It may not be up to the standards of your mother’s cooking, but, honestly, very little I’ve ever tasted has lived up to what she can produce in her kitchen. A true culinary artist, that woman.”
Cullen nodded, pushing the pile of green beans with his fork. He cut a piece of the Salisbury steak and chewed without much appetite.
The admiral wiped his mouth with his napkin. “So, what did you find about our mysterious foes?”
Setting his fork to the side, Cullen activated the data slate and slid it across the table toward his father. The admiral bent over the slate and began to peruse the text that Cullen had prepared for him.
“Jane and I spent a lot of time poring over the data from the network you gave me access to. We found very little pertaining to the Ma’Ha’Nae,” Cullen said.
The admiral lifted his head. “Jane?”
Cullen’s face reddened. “That’s my computer. I thought she needed a name.”
The admiral nodded and looked back at the slate. Cullen was embarrassed he’d brought up Jane’s name. It had just, once again, proven the point that he was a disappointment to the admiral on so many levels. The only friend he’d been able to make was one whose lifeblood was a rapid flow of electrons.
Several silent minutes went by as the admiral read through the report Cullen had prepared. When he’d finished, he looked at Cullen. “Well, that was about what I thought you would find. However, I was hopeful there would be more, something concrete.” He smiled and picked up his fork again. “Alas, it wasn’t meant to be. My team will just need to search harder in the actual physical world.”
Cullen nodded and pushed his food around on the plate once again. He took a deep breath and realized if he didn’t do it now, he would never be able to summon up the courage necessary to confront his father about what he’d found in those encrypted files.
“Father, I did find…something else. While I was searching for this information, I bumped up against some blocked files. There was a trail leading into those blocked files I wanted to explore. It seemed promising. My assumption was the files had been encrypted by the Am’Segid, so Jane and I went to work decrypting them and getting past the block. I hadn’t found much at that point and blocked files are usually blocked for a reason. My hope was the answers you wanted were just on the other side of the block.”
The admiral had stopped eating and had once again set his intense gaze upon Cullen. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and neatly folded it and set the cloth on the table. “And what did you find?”
Cullen took another deep breath. “I’m not sure, but there are questions I need you to answer for me.”
“I will if I can,” the admiral said.
Cullen twisted his napkin around his finger and then the words spilled out of him like a river breaching a dam. “Why are we here? I mean, is what I’ve been told about the Farpointe Initiative true? What I’ve found makes me question everything. It makes me question the very nature and purpose of the CPF. I don’t want to do that, Dad. Tell me these people are a threat to us and that’s why we’re doing what we’re doing. Tell me these people had a hidden army and weapons they were stockpiling and readying for an attack on Earth. Tell me we didn’t attack an unarmed, peaceful people and perpetrate genocide on them,” Cullen pleaded.
The admiral leaned back in his chair. “I have never lied to you, Cullen. At times I may have withheld information I thought you weren’t ready for, but the words that I’ve addressed to you have always been the truth. That’s what I’m going to do now, and then I’m going to give you the explanation why the Farpointe Initiative is so vital for our survival.
“It’s true that the Am’Segid had no weapons and no armies. They have lived in peace with each other for hundreds of years.”
Cullen groaned and closed his eyes. It was as if someone had grabbed hold of everything he’d thought about his universe and turned it upside down.
“What you didn’t read is that these people are the ones who made our world sick. The plague t
hat killed off millions on Earth came from this planet.”
Cullen sat up. “How?”
“Before the plague, before the CPF, several of the old Earth nations developed a warp-capable ship. The engines in this very ship are based on that design. They began exploring the stars beyond our solar system and eventually found Aereas. It was kept quiet for fear the populations of the world would not be able to handle the thought of another race until we knew if they were friendly. In 2078, one of those missions made contact with the Am’Segid and then returned to Earth having ascertained these people would not be a threat to us and with the recommendation that diplomatic ties be established.
“That never happened, because, if you remember your Earth history, in 2079 the plague wiped out two-thirds of the world’s population and threw everything into chaos. We now know that the virus came from this planet. All Am’Segid carry the virus inside of them, but it’s not harmful to them. They’ve developed a resistance passed from mother to child in the womb. As you know, despite the best efforts of the CPF virologists, the virus has begun to crop up again on Earth. So far, with extreme measures, the CPF has been able to control its spread, but we have no cure. It’s only a matter of time before it wipes out what’s left of Earth’s population and all that the CPF has rebuilt.”
He paused and took a drink of his wine. “In 2101, eight years ago, we found the records of those warp flights. We had no idea of their existence. The real treasure was the schematics for the warp engines. The CPF put all its resources into the project, postulating if the virus came from Aereas, then its cure was also here. Truthfully, it was a wager with very long odds. Five years ago we returned to this planet, took some subjects, and studied them. We found that the immunity is passed between mother and child. A cure was synthesized from the inherited enzyme, but it wasn’t entirely compatible with our human physiology. It needed to have more of a human component. That’s when the Farpointe Initiative was born. We have fertilized Am’Segid eggs with human sperm, creating a hybrid race capable of producing an enzyme compatible with human physiology.”
Cullen held his aching head in his hands. “So, the women in the stasis units…”
Nodding, the Admiral continued. “Impregnated through invitro fertilization. In them rests the hope for humanity’s continued survival.”
“Did we ever ask these people for their help?” Cullen asked. His mind was a confused jumble of new information.
“No. We never asked, and the reasoning was we not only needed their enzyme, we needed their planet. Much of ours is an irradiated wasteland. Untainted resources are getting harder to find, and we have no idea how much longer the planet will sustain life. Light years away there was a planet ready-made to become humanity’s new home. The problem was it already had residents. The simple solution was to take it from them.”
The admiral pushed his plate of uneaten dinner to the side. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the table and looked at Cullen. “Cullen, son, you must understand this is how nature operates. The stronger races survive and flourish by taking what they need from those who are too weak to hold on to what was once theirs. We’ve proven we’re the dominant species, and we will survive while they fade out of existence. This planet will make an excellent home for our people.”
“How will we get everyone here? Are there more ships?” Cullen asked.
“There are more ships being constructed, but not everyone will be coming. A list exists of handpicked people who represent the best of who we are as a race. They will be the progenitors of a new, more robust and evolutionarily superior human race. You, my son, are part of the chosen. Your intellect makes you valuable.”
Cullen shook his head. It was so much to take in. “Are you sending some of the cure to Earth for those left behind?”
The admiral shook his head. “No. The cure is too valuable. They will simply succumb to the inevitable natural process. The weak must be eliminated from the genetic chain. Those left behind will die out just as the Earth does.”
“We weren’t satisfied committing genocide on an alien race, so we’re doing the same to what’s left of the human race? I can’t believe what I’m hearing!” Cullen’s voice had begun to rise. It was too much.
The admiral remained impassive, ignoring his son’s outburst. “The plan is already in motion and past the point of no return. The invasion is over, the population of this world has been subjugated, the cure is being processed, and the CPF governors will be on their way soon. Like it or not, you’re a part of this. In a very real way, you’re just as culpable for the holocaust of this people as the soldier who pulls the trigger or the admiral who ordered the ships to begin bombing the cities. Soon enough you’ll see the necessity and logic of this plan. When the emotion passes, you’ll understand.”
Cullen’s stomach turned. He couldn’t stay here any longer and listen to the insanity spilling from his father’s mouth. “Please have your pilot ferry me back to the surface. I’m done with dinner. Tell Mother I said hi.” He moved quickly to the door. As it slid open, his father’s even voice spoke.
“Don’t do anything rash, son. You play an important role in the future of humanity, but there are others who can play the same role.”
A chill passed over Cullen’s body. Had his father just threatened him?
He stepped through the door and strode down the long hallway toward the hangar bay, the aftertaste of the Continental Peace Federation wine turning bitter in his mouth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Earth - Sydney, Australia, R3 Headquarters
“Instead of a nice nap on my flight back, I spent the entire time going over these files you sent me,” Fernando said as he stood in the middle of the strategy room leaning over the wide table whose glass top was a large screen. Several days of stubble sprouted from his normally smooth face. His hair was disheveled, and dark circles ringed his eyes, proof the man had done more reading than sleeping over the last week. Tapping the tabletop, he brought up the files taken from Dumas.
“The mysterious Farpointe Initiative revealed,” he said sweeping his hand over the many documents, graphs and illustrations that now filled the screen.
“Can you give us a basic summary, Fernando?” Noni asked, looking up from the information.
“Basically,” Fernando said, running his hand through his black hair. “The CPF is abandoning Earth and taking what they call the ‘best and brightest of humanity’ with them. That’s what the warp engine is for. This information speaks of a Farpointe warp ship facility located here.” Fernando called up a map of Antarctica.
“Of course they’d pick the most inhospitable place on the planet to put a secret base,” Charles said.
Fernando smiled and zoomed in the picture to reveal a long, low building. It was hard to see, given it was the same color as the snow it sat upon. “This is the Farpointe warp ship facility. A lot of materials have been flowing into this base that we never picked up on. The CPF has done an excellent job of hiding it from us.”
Noni looked at Fernando. “What are they doing at this facility, Fernando?”
The Spaniard stood up straight and folded his arms. He stared at the information, trying to make sense of it once again. “Well, what we have tells us four ships have been constructed. The first was built five years ago and took them to this.” Fernando swiped the screen and brought up another picture, this one of a planet.
At first Bobby thought it was just another picture of Earth taken from outside the atmosphere long ago, but then he noticed the large green and brown continent looked nothing like any of the continents on Earth. Bobby looked at Fernando and saw the big grin on the Spaniard’s face.
“You see it now, don’t you?” he asked.
Bobby nodded and looked back at the map.
“This is Habitable Planet 397, or Aereas. That’s what the people who call it home have named it. The CPF has been exploring, and they found this place based on records of early space flight in 2078. They’ve studied
it and have decided this is humanity’s new home. Apparently we need a new home because the plague is coming back.”
“That’s what Dumas told me. I didn’t believe him,” Bobby said.
“Well, believe it. The files documented a rise in cases around the globe. Are you ready for the big reveal? The plague didn’t originate on Earth, it came from this planet. If you read the files I gave you, you’ll remember the flight of the Wayfarer. The Wayfarer found Aereas and made contact with its inhabitants. Unfortunately, they brought something back with them.”
Fernando called up a grainy black and white picture of threadlike structures. “This is Virulent Agent 397, named after its planet of origin. Apparently, the people of this planet all carry this virus, but it’s not deadly to them. The crew of the Unity made contact with the Aereans and brought back the virus which wiped out most of humanity. The CPF have determined by creating a human/Aerean hybrid, they can harvest an enzyme capable of curing the plague and making us immune to it. Following typical CPF logic, they decided the only way to do this was to destroy another civilization and take what they needed instead of asking. That is where the second warp ship comes into play.”
“So the CPF has been back to this planet?” Bobby asked.
Fernando nodded. “Yes. They did tests and studies and that’s how they determined a cure could be made. Which brings us back to the question of the ships.” Fernando scrolled back to the screen showing the schematics of three ships. To Bobby, two were almost identical, large cylindrical vessels. The third was a smaller ship with a more wedged-shaped design.
One of the massive cylindrical vessels filled the screen. “This is the Eden, humanity’s first warp-capable warship. They used this to ferry their troops to HP-397 three months ago, when they invaded the planet.”
Bobby straightened. “That’s why we’ve been able to make progress against the CPF. They don’t have as many troops on the ground here anymore. I thought the victories were too easy.”
