The Forever Fight: The Forever Series Book 3

by Craig A. Robertson

  “Second, that was pathetic. Please report to my master-at-arms first thing tomorrow for badly needed lessons.”

  “Yes, I will do so, Lord. Thank you for your kind concern. Shall…shall I remove the remains of Ocrindis?”

  “No, don't bother. His continued presence will remind those still alive how I reward treachery. Plus, he does looks delicious, doesn't he?”

  FOUR

  “I'm not nearly as comfortable with these new notions that seem stuck in your head,” Toño said.

  “As if votes counted, because you never listen to anyone else in the first place,” added Sapale, “but, I fully agree with Toño. It's way too risky and totally unnecessary. What do you even hope to gain?”

  “I can't believe you guys. What kind of explorers are you, anyway? Where's your spirit of adventure?”

  “Not me,” said Toño raising his arm. “Never claimed to be an explorer or have the slightest adventurous inclination.”

  Sapale raised her arm. “Mother, nation builder. No interest whatsoever in exploration or adventure, thank you very much.”

  “I'm all in with you,” declared JJ. He rested his hand on his rail-rifle. For the last few years, he'd been in the habit of carrying one. Said he wanted to be ready when the Uhoor showed their ugly faces. The fact that my hot-headed son was the only one on my side was not very good.

  “Look, guys, these Deavoriath may well be the most advanced, most powerful race in the entire universe. I'm talkin' ever, here. Those mighty Uhoor see one of their ships and scurry like cockroaches when the kitchen light is turned on. Think what we could learn from them. Imagine the way they could change our lives.”

  “Yes,” said Toño, “like, for example, ending them.”

  “Doc, come on,” I more or less whined, “why would they do that? They have to be the ones who gave me these cool toys.” I held up my hands.

  “Then they scrubbed both Al’s and your brain clean. If they wanted you to return, they wouldn't have done that, now would they?” Sapale said.

  “You don't know that. We don't know that. Who's to say why superbeings do what they do?”

  “The record of where Oowaoa is located was stricken from your memory,” Toño observed. “The only reason has to be that, as Sapale said, they want to be left alone. If superbeings want you to leave them alone and you don't, they're likely to act in a most unpleasant manner.”

  “If they turn hostile, we can defend ourselves,” JJ said, raising his rifle.

  “You say you won a bet,” Toño asked again, still incredulous, “with the vortex manipulator?”

  “Yeah. I totally did.”

  “But, why would what is essentially a sentient AI place a bet? It's illogical. Makes no sense at all.”

  “That doesn't change the fact that I did. In a contest of man over machine, always bet on the flesh and bone.”

  “I'll keep that in mind,” observed Al, who'd been listening in. “For the record, pilot, you're an android, a machine constructed to appear as though it was flesh and bone.”

  “Gee, thanks, Al,” I responded. “Remind me what I can get you for Christmas.”

  “Jon,” Sapale asked pointedly, “what specifically do you hope to gain? Hmm? We're safe from the Uhoor and the Listhelons We can defend ourselves against either if they attack. We can travel anywhere we want instantly. Even if the Deavoriath don’t just kill us on sight, what do we need that they can supply?”

  She sort of had me there. “I don't know, but with their power and resources, I can't imagine a wish they couldn't grant us. Maybe they could re-create Earth, and we could all go home.” Why, oh why, had I just said that? My uncensored brain-mouth-speech pathway got me into trouble faster than moonshine on an empty stomach.

  “That is highly likely and completely desirable,” was Sapale's response. “My home,” she pointed around widely, “our home, is here on Azsuram, not Earth. You're dreaming up science fiction to justify the fact that you just want to do it because you can.”

  She knew me too well. “I'll go alone then. No one else will be in danger.”

  “No way,” shouted JJ. “If you go, I go.”

  I looked at him sharply. “Like I said, I will go alone. I will be the only one at risk.”

  “Incorrect,” said Sapale, “on three counts. One, if you don't return, we lose the cube. Two, the Deavoriath may want to erase all knowledge of their existence and could come blow us all to bits. Three, I will not let you die on a fool's errand. I love you too much, even when you're acting like the spoiled child that forever lives in your brain.”

  “Jon,” said Toño, “how about this. If there's ever a need to contact the Deavoriath, we'll do so. But, absent a dire situation, let's agree it'd be too dangerous.”

  But I wanted to go! I'd apparently been there before, but I'd have loved to check them out and actually remember it. Then again, I was immortal. I could visit them later, much later, when there was no one left to try and talk me out of it. “Okay. I'll hold off for now, pending a good reason. But I still have to say, y'all are a bunch of sissy killjoys.” JJ yelped. “All except JJ here. He, like his old man, is interested in expanding the horizons of civilization.”

  When Toño and JJ were gone, Sapale came over and rested her head on my shoulder. “I know you're the adventurer. You were chosen first from among all your people to make that voyage of discovery. I know that.” She looked up at me. “I know you're itching to take that fancy cube of yours and do something really exciting, really dangerous. It's in your DNA.”

  “But,” I finished her thought, “I have responsibilities, a family to watch over, and a world to shape.”

  “No,” she replied. “If I lost you, I don't think I could go on. I'd just roll myself into a big ball and cry myself to death.”

  That was the sweetest thing anyone had ever said about me. I stroked her head gently. “What sort of brood-mate would I be if I let you do that? You're never going to lose me. Honest.”

  We sat there silently. We both knew the other shoe of my remark was that, sooner or later, I would lose her.

  “Hey,” she said, trying to lighten the mood, “what do you think of those solar-powered generators JJ and Draldon set up on the ridge? I think we're going to get a lot of use out of those.”

  “Yeah, they'll help a lot. Shearwater can produce a ton of electricity, but if she's off-world for some reason, it's good to know there'll be plenty of backup available.”

  “You know, it's kind of funny. When you and I planned Azsuram, we had no idea we'd have that cube. It changed everything.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, before, we couldn't be certain we'd make it. One disaster and the whole thing could have crumbled. If we didn't have enough genetic diversity, there'd be trouble down the road we couldn't fix.”

  “But now…?”

  “Now it's not as challenging as it was.”

  “What, you like life more when you could have failed miserably?”

  She rocked her head back and forth a minute. “Yes, I think I did.” She straightened up and looked at me seriously. “Not that we would have ever failed.”

  “I know what you're saying. That spark of uncertainty made whatever we accomplished all that more satisfying.” I tapped the bottom of her chin. “But, I bet in a thousand years there'll be so many statues of you around, the ground will get crooked. You've done good, brood's-mate. You've done something that matters.”

  “Check back, will you, in a thousand years? If they don't have more statues of me than there are stars in the sky, beat them up or something.”

  “You got it! I'll build them myself if I have to. Then I'll personally put one in every bathroom on the planet. People will never ignore you again.”

  “You're terrible.” She slapped my shoulder.

  “Sanitary Sapale. That's what they'll call you. You'll become the goddess of personal hygiene and general cleanliness.”

  “I may just have to take Toño up on his offer to dow
nload me to an AI. That way I can haunt your sorry ass forever.”

  “What! That's an option? He could do that?”

  She stood and turned away. “Damn! I can't believe I let that slip. There'll be no living with you now. Semlerag!”

  Semlerag was about the worst curse word in her native tongue. It didn't translate into human speech easily, but, trust me, it was a bad word. She never used it, except in instructing the kids. I knew she had to be really pissed at herself.

  “Honey, don't be like that. It's good. It's all good. If you want to talk about it, then we'll talk. If not, we can just pretend you never said a thing. I'm totally cool either way. Your call, seriously.”

  Her fists were tightly closed, and her frame was stiff as metal. “You're so damn understanding it's annoying.”

  “I can't recall being insulted like that.”

  “Hey, I'm still mad at you. No joking around!”

  “Mad at me? What'd I do?”

  “You're not getting out of this by playing dumb. No way! You know what you did. You made me mention Toño's offer.”

  “Me? I…how'd I do that? I didn't know a thing about it. We were discussing how you'd be remembered for your cleanliness.”

  “You're only making it worse for yourself. You know, straight?”

  I had, as all good husbands before me, lost the battle, the war, and anything else that counted. Better to surrender early. It would be less painful. Much less painful. “Okay, I'm sorry. Sometimes I'm insensitive. I only want you to be happy. I'll do whatever it takes.” That universal concession usually did the trick.

  “If you weren't so darn cute and I didn't love you so much, I'd resent your empty confession.”

  “Sweet love, with all my heart, I promise to never mention your revelation if that's what you want. Us darn cute people, we're like that.”

  “He mentioned it to me. Maybe six months ago.”

  “And he said an AI transfer, not an android?”

  “A computer copy only. He said an android host for my species was still decades off. Apparently copying a brain is easy. A complex, functioning host is much more taxing.” She crossed her arms around her body like she was cold and turned away.

  “What're your thoughts?”

  “You know how I feel. We discussed being an android that one time.” She stopped talking as she pulled in a couple ragged breaths. “I thanked him for the kind offer but told him I had less than zero interest.” Her entire body shuddered. “It would be awful to be trapped in a machine like you are. It would be unthinkable to be locked away in cyber-reality for all eternity.” Void of emotion, she continued, “No eyes to see the gods' light, no ears to hear children laughing, no arms to touch a lover. The horror of such an existence is beyond comprehension. To never live, yet to never die. Un…unthinkable.”

  “Then you shouldn't do it. If that's how you feel, end of discussion.” I stood and engulfed her in my arms.

  She began to growl mournfully, pitifully. That was the Kaljax equivalent of crying. After a minute, she could speak again. “But, I know you want me to be there with you, and it kills me that I can't do it.”

  “Hey there, no tears. It's a crazy, compass-less technological dawn we're experiencing. No worries. For millions of years, life has only the one option: to live and then to die. Now we have this immortality as opposed to that one, and it isn’t the way we were programmed to do it. It's okay that it doesn't make sense. A rational decision concerning any of this is impossible.” To myself, I added, “I wonder every day if it wouldn't have been better for all of this to never have come to be.”

  My brood's-mate, filled with enough love for me to bridge an eternity, caught that last remark. She could hear that I was suffering. “You had to choose to exist in your black state. I'm so full of pride for you I almost split wide open.” She stroked my cheek. “Plus, if you hadn't, I'd have never been able to meet the best man in the galaxy.”

  We kissed. God, how I loved that woman.

  FIVE

  “Good evening. I am Jim Higgs, the executive producer. Tonight on PrimeNews we are going to bring you an exclusive, one-on-one interview you cannot afford to miss. We will speak with Stuart Marshall. In the past, we've interviewed the new Stuart Marshall, who's currently a model citizen. But the man we will meet tonight is the other Stuart Marshall. The man known to some as Darth Marshall. This is the one who ordered the atomic bombing of his own nation. He's the machine who coordinated the sneak attack on Enterprise, killing Secretary Kahl. He's also the only man we know who has been killed at least twice, yet is still alive.

  “Our senior correspondent, Miles Cavett, has been blindfolded and taken to a secret facility where this interview is to take place. We cannot stress the danger he has assumed on your behalf to get the story directly from a man who has proven to be violent and unpredictable. Viewer discretion is advised. We must insist that children and those with known cardiac diseases please not watch this live, once-in-a-lifetime feed. Some label Marshall a madman, others as the devil incarnate. I can only pray that my friend Miles and his crew will return to us safe and unharmed.

  “So, with no further delay, I will switch the feed to Miles Cavett, at an unknown location. Miles, are you okay?”

  The signal broke up briefly, then the well-known face of Miles Cavett appeared. He looked serious, but self-assured. His square-jaw and rugged good-looks promised that he'd give as much as he got from Stuart Marshall.

  “Good evening, my friends. Thank you for joining me. And yes, Jim, we're all fine. I invite you to accompany me tonight on a journey, exploring the mind of a man often compared to Joseph Stalin, Adolph Hitler, and Sayyid al-Fassi. First,” the camera panned back as Miles turned to face Stuart, “I'd like to thank Stuart Marshall for the chance to meet with him.”

  “No problem, Miles. It's my pleasure to interface with the press and,” he extended a hand toward the camera, “my blessed American citizenry. I have sworn to serve them. They have the right to see their president in person. They hunger to know that I am well and remain uncaged by our mutual enemies.”

  “Perhaps that is as good a point of departure as any, Mr. Marshall, to begin our…”

  “Ah, Miles, if you would refer to me as President Marshall, I'd greatly appreciate it.” Stuart jiggled both palms at the reporter and added, “Now, I'm not the sort of fellow to stand on ceremony and empty titles. No. I'm a humble man—to a fault, I am told, by those I trust. However, I do think you owe it to those individuals who've placed their trust in me to show the office, if not the man occupying it, all proper and due respect.”

  “But, Mr. Marshall, you are not the President of the United States. Amanda Walker is. She legally assumed the office of the president after Faith Clinton was assassinated.”

  “I can see you're going to try my patience a little bit right out the gate.” Stuart grimaced and balled a fist alongside his face. “Lucky for you, I'm both an easygoing as well as a forgiving president. Neither, you see, of those aforementioned sluts won or assumed the presidency. As I was, am, and always will be the duly and legally elected president, it was constitutionally impossible for either of them, or anyone else, to occupy my office.” Stuart smiled grotesquely. “You can't have two popes, and you can't have two presidents. Not possible.”

  “Need I remind you there can be two popes. Durning the Western Schism of the fourteenth century, there existed a dual papacy with the so called anti-popes. When Popes Urban VI in Rome…”

  “My but you're the well-informed son of a red-assed whore, aren't you,” hissed Stuart. “We are not, however, here to discuss popish history.”

  “You brought the subject up.”

  “Yes, I imagine I did, didn't I? I truly regret it now. I suggest, however, we move along to the Presidential Proclamation I was planning to make to the public tonight.” He gestured royally to the camera. “To my loving lost sheep.”

  “Hang on a moment, sir! I will not be manipulated or have this interview highjacked s
o you can achieve your personal agenda. I insist we stick, at least loosely, to the agreed-upon format both your people and mine signed off on.”

  “You know what? In spite of my aforementioned easygoing and forgiving nature, you're beginning to get on my last nerve. That is not, as history teaches us, a good or a safe place to stand, son. As president, I will set the tone and direction of any press conferences I give. Is there any part of that vision you're still unclear about?” Stuart glowered at Miles, who, to his credit, stood his ground.

  “Are you threatening me? Because, if you are, this interview is over.”

  The camera panned to a close-up on Stuart. He fluttered his eyes closed and slowly pumped his fists in front of his chest. Eyes still shut, he said, “Let's not let our egos or testosterone levels interfere with an otherwise pleasant evening, shall we, Miles? Let's both remove our fingers from the put-the-foot-down button and take a few deep breaths. Hmm?”

  “How we proceed depends entirely on your behavior and willingness to stick to the agreed-upon format.”

  “Well, there you have it, then! We're peachy-keen, aren't we? Ready to head for second base on our first date.”

  The mental instability reflected in that last remark did not escape the notice of Miles Cavett or anyone watching.

  “Let me ask, then, why it is you think you are still the rightful president? I know of no other individual who shares your opinion in that regard. I specifically discussed any potential validity of your claim with the Chief Justice of the Supreme Court yesterday. She felt there was no constitutional basis…”

  “You can't take the word of an acknowledged pedophile concerning matters of constitutional law.”

  Miles was clearly stunned. “I beg your pardon! Are you saying that Chief Justice Mary Kathryn Kinane, a former nun, is a pedophile? That, sir, is outrageous!”

  Stuart glared sternly for a moment, then burst out laughing. “No, you slow-coach, I simply stated that one can't take a pedophile's word on anything. I didn't say the blessed justice was one. That was an assumption on your part.” Stuart giggled recklessly. “If you assume something, you make an ass out of you and me.” More cackles. Abruptly and soberly, Stuart said, “Now, I will state that Mary is a closet reprobate and intellectually challenged, unable to distinguish a tort from a tart. I will further venture she'd be a cold log in the sack, but those qualities are all beside the point.”