The Forever Fight: The Forever Series Book 3

by Craig A. Robertson

  By the time I was hooked up to the vortex and ready to depart, Heath was almost back to his usual self. That was fortunate. I didn't need a love-sick sack of sponges; I needed a copilot. I confirmed with Manly that when we dropped out of folded space, we would be as invisible as possible to the worldships. I knew they'd be on ultra-high alert and didn't want to give up the element of surprise. Manly assured me the humans would remain as clueless as they had always been. He said it like he didn't like us much.

  We puffed into real space about a thousand kilometers behind the stragglers of the fleet. “Are you monitoring their communication?” I asked Manly.

  “Have been since we arrived to the main group,” was his terse response.

  “Any changes suggesting they've detected us?”

  “None, Form.”

  “Please let me know if there are any significant changes.”

  “By your command.”

  I turned to Heath. He was eating a sandwich. “Now comes the hard part. We, my friend, need a plan. Any ideas?”

  He swallowed harshly and took a sip of coffee. “You think I have a plan? I'm just along for the ride. I have no clue what this bucket can do. That's your sphere of expertise, not mine.”

  “Point.” What was the cube capable of? Up until then, I'd used it as not much more than a shuttle. I had no idea what miracles laid hidden beneath its shiny walls. When I'd temporarily taken out Marshall a while back, I did so myself. What could Manly bring to the table?

  “Manly, I have a general question for you.” No response. “Manly, you there?”

  “Of course I am, Form.”

  “Then why didn't you answer?”

  “You had yet to pose a question. What? Did you fancy that after millions of years of uninterrupted service I suddenly decided to take a nap?”

  What was with him? “Manly, I'd like to discuss the tactical situation with you. Are you programmed…strike that. Are you expert in combat and stealth concepts?”

  “Yes. I am the most powerful war vessel in the universe. I am sentient and seasoned in battle. I am unaware of any limitations I might have.”

  Wow. I should've asked him that question before.

  “How can you say that?” asked Heath. “How can you know there are no more potent ships or skilled minds?”

  No response. “Ah, Manly,” I repeated, “please answer his questions as well as mine.” I knew he was persnickety about that point.

  “By your command. I know these things. That is all you can comprehend. I assure you, I am what I say I am.”

  I held a hand up to Heath to silence him. “Fine. I believe you, Manly. Okay, you know what's going on and what I hope to accomplish. You also witnessed my actions when we captured Marshall before. Do you have any initial thoughts you can share as to how we can remove him?”

  “Yes. To be in a position to have to duplicate a victory indicates the prior victory was false. You gained nothing, and Marshall benefitted much. You were duped. You were foolish. Your concern for mercy and fair play dominated your thoughts and, hence, emasculated you.”

  But, how did he honestly feel? I guess he was correct in his critique, but, wow. Emasculated myself? Ouch! “I see your point. Thanks for your honesty. Without rehashing too much of the past, how might you go about ending the existence and threat of Stuart Marshall for good?”

  “Trivially easy. I would open fire on the flotilla and destroy everything that exists. I would radiate the remaining dust so that there was zero possibility of regeneration. Zero.”

  OMG. This guy was insane. “Okay, that would work. Thanks. We'd kill millions of innocent hostages, but I agree it would work. Let's call that Plan One. Now, any thoughts as to what a Plan Two could be, maybe a tad less bloody, if possible.”

  “I repeat my earlier observation. Your sentimentality is contrary to your stated desire. All lives will perish. What does it matter if it is today or a handful a year from now?”

  “It matters, you monster!” Heath said unhelpfully. I raised my hand again.

  “Do you request I respond to the human, Form?”

  “No. He's just having a bad day, kind of an emotional mess. He and his wife are having issues.”

  “I heard she dumped him like a radioactive turd.”

  “Back to Plan Two,” I said. “Let's remain focused. What alternate tactic might we employ?”

  “I have located the android named Stuart Marshall. I could atomize his craft alone. I could not, however, guarantee that he does not have regeneration facilities on one of the other forty-nine vessels. Hence, the plan is flawed.”

  I rubbed my temples. “How about a Plan Three? This plan must include blowing up no ships, vessels, or crafts.”

  “Sentimental fool.”

  I had my limits. Manly just rocketed past all of them. “I will tolerate no insubordination or insults. I am a Form. You are not. I command both this mission and this vessel. You will both obey my orders and show me all due respect or I will deactivate you. And before you go and tell me you're the most powerful asshole in the universe and that I couldn't possibly deactivate you, know this: I have gone from a man to an android. I have traveled endless miles and bested everyone who has defied me. I have never been defeated and never will be. I beat you in a wager. The Deavoriath marooned you, and I brought you back to meaning. Comply or die. It's that simple.”

  Without pause or hesitation, he responded. “I am truly sorry, my Form. You are right on all counts. I only exist to serve you. Can you forgive my insolence?”

  “I forgive nothing in times of war. I never allow sentimentality to sully my actions.”

  “You have bested me, yet again, Form. With time, I hope to be judged again, if I cannot be forgiven. I have a design I feel you will approve of. May I present it to you?”

  Too thick. The son of a lawn mower was trying to butter me up. He was violating the first law of dealing with Jon Ryan: Never try to bullshit a bullshitter. Never! I was the king of all bullshitters everywhere.

  “I have tired of you, Manly. I no longer seek or value your council. Please respond to my commands but otherwise consider yourself relieved of duty pending court martial.”

  I kidded around a lot. Sometimes people didn’t know whether to take me seriously or not. I played the clown; hell, I was a clown, most of the time. But you know what? Sometimes I hit the nail so firmly upon its head that I surprise myself. Sometimes, I’m just that good.

  “I beg,” Manly said in a neutral tone, “that you reconsider, Form. I am built to serve, please know this. If you relegate me out of useful service, I will experience infinite pain—literal, physical pain. I allowed pride to cloud my vision. I acted disgracefully, and worse yet, I can never forget my sin. If I were in your place, I would treat me more horribly than you are treating me now. Perhaps this is why I am a vortex manipulator and you are Form. I appeal, in all sincerity, to your better nature, to your kinder heart, and to your superior judgment to afford me one last chance to prove my worth and my loyalty.”

  I turned and walked slowly across the room. I sat down and rattled my fingers on the armrests. I was fairly certain Manly's last soliloquy was genuine, but I couldn't actually know it for a fact. I also desperately needed his help. In the end, I did what I always had. I said WTF? to myself and took an insane chance.

  “What is Plan Three, vortex manipulator?”

  “Form, I wish for you to address me properly. You may, of course, call me whatever you want. My name is Wrath. This vessel is Wrath. We are Wrath.”

  My but didn't that sound ominous! “I think, for now, I'll stick with Manly.”

  “By your pleasure.”

  Wrath then proceed to tell me his Plan Three. It was simple, quick, and, best of all, no one died violently. Yeah! I gave him the green light and waited for something to happen, maybe fireworks or squeaky noises. Nothing. A second after I said, “Go,” he said, “It is complete.”

  It couldn't have been that simple. He said it was, and he wasn't lying. I h
ailed the vessel Marshall was riding in. “This is Captain Jon Ryan, Opportunity. You there?”

  “Yes, Captain. This is Lt. Tip Benjamin III, duty officer. Boy am I glad to see you. Well, I can't actually see you, but I can hear you. Your signal is local, so I bet I could see you…”

  “Tip,” I interrupted, “I don't have all day.”

  “Sorry! I'm doing it again, aren't I?”

  “Stow it. I need a clear update. Are you capable of that, Tip?”

  “Aye!”

  “Is Stuart Marshall neutralized?”

  “That's the part I don't know. I'm…we're plenty confused.”

  “Get me your CO, now! I need someone who speaks English.”

  “She's right next to me, and she's as confused as I am. Here.”

  “This is Commander Hannah Johannsen. Captain, here's the situation. We find ourselves adrift. Control command does not exist. I can't convince the computer to release operations to me.”

  “How's that possible?”

  “The damn machine says we're on an unauthorized voyage, that command control was never properly given and cannot be instituted without the proper validation.”

  “No. It was given to Marshall. If he's incapacitated, it falls to the next in command. That's you. What's the problem?”

  “The problem is the computer has no record of any Stuart Marshall ever. No Marshall, no valid chain of command.”

  “Hang on. You're telling me that Marshall does not exist in any record on any ship? That's nuts.”

  “You and I know he exists, or did. I honestly have no valid understanding of his status. Security teams are sweeping the ship as we speak looking for him. But according to the electronic record, no such person ever existed.”

  “Manly,” I called out, “just exactly what did you do? You said you'd erase him. I thought you meant the android's brain.”

  “As I told you, I wiped the system clean concerning the existence of Stuart Marshall. No record means he cannot be re-created since he never existed to reproduce.”

  “I guess I didn't fully understand Plan Three. There's an android somewhere on Opportunity that looks like Stuart Marshall. Hopefully it's recently defunct, but it has to be lying there somewhere.”

  “Incorrect,” was Manly's response. “There is no android with Stuart Marshall's semblance because…”

  “There never was a Stuart Marshall,” I finished his thought. “But he did exist. I remember him. You remember him.”

  “True, but irrelevant. Yes, there is an android on the floor of a Faraday cage that you would recognize as Stuart Marshall. But as far as non-living memory is concerned, there never was such an individual. Hence, that blank android is not Stuart Marshall.”

  “How widespread is that wipe?”

  “It is comprehensive. There are no Marshall records anywhere.”

  “Even back in the main fleet?”

  “Yes. It is what you authorized. The impossibility of a recording of his name assures that he is gone for good.”

  “But, wait. There is that rehabilitated android of Marshall, the one I put in charge the first time we took the crazy one out.”

  “No, Form, there is not.”

  “No, there is. I spoke with him a few months back. I never much warmed to him, but he was an upstanding guy. He was getting married, of all things. I even met his fiancée on holo.”

  “He never existed. There is no record of him, so he wasn't.”

  Oh shit! I killed both Stuarts, the good one and the bad one. My heart sank. That poor woman, his fiancée. One second she loves a wonderful guy, and the next minute, he never existed, yet she remembers him completely. What a kick in the guts.

  “Hannah, request permission to come aboard. I want to leave the vice president with you to help you with your return to the main fleet.”

  “Granted. Looking forward to meeting you two legends.”

  Heath pointed to his chest and mouthed the word legend.

  “Look,” I began. “I'm done here. I'll deposit you safe and sound in some hangar, then I'm homeward bound.”

  “Can't you stay a little longer. What if we need you?”

  “You won't. They’ve got you. A Ryan's a Ryan's a Ryan.”

  He gestured to the ceiling. “Maybe, but I don't have a magic box.”

  I smiled. “You'll do fine. You're more than enough on your own. I'm serious about you two joining us, if either of you is interested. I'll come back in a couple months to see if you want to make the leap.” I shuffled my feet. “You can tell Amanda how I accomplished the mission but disobeyed her order. One person died. Hopefully she won't bust me like Marshall did.”

  “I'm guessing Mandy'll be lenient. And I'll contact Marshall’s fiancée personally to make sure she gets through this.”

  “Thanks, kid. I'd appreciate that. It kills me to be responsible for yet another death.”

  Heath walked over and hugged me. He was a good man.

  NINETEEN

  I picked up Toño, and we popped back home. For the first time in my long life, I actually felt like I was home. What a wonderful feeling. In the few days we were gone, nothing major happened, and certainly nothing disastrous. I think the biggest news was that a wolpom laid some eggs. Wolpom are indigenous to Kaljax. They sort of fill the swine role there, though they are a bit smaller and a whole lot smellier. Butt-ugly too. Never look directly into the face of a wolpom. Sapale said they were cute. Sapale said I was cute, too, so there it is by way of comparison.

  I did return to the worldship fleet after a month, like I'd promised. Heath and Amanda had gone public and were weathering the storm of controversy. Their political survival was greatly aided by the return of the stolen ships and the permanent death of Stuart Marshall. They declined to escape to Azsuram with me. Can't say I blame them. Azsuram was becoming more Kaljaxian by the minute. They'd probably feel out of their element. Plus, they were young, ambitious, and possibly in love. They needed and wanted to cut their own swathes in life.

  Days rolled into months, and the seasons changed with increasing rapidity. Sapale and I became great-grandparents, and JJ and Fashallana became grandparents. A pleasant, fulfilling stream of time flowed ever onward. Remember my saying about bottoms dropping out? Yup! And with a loud crash, this time. It was the middle of the night, everyone living was asleep, and us androids were sitting together reading. My book was, for the record, an ancient classic. The Corporate Virus. I know, everybody read it and Lord of the Flies and The Scarlet Letter in high school. I sort of skipped those assignments. I was too busy with sports, girls, and cars.

  Anyway, Al blurted out, “Red Alert! Red Alert!”

  “What,” I said, springing to my feet. “And keep it down. I'm right here. Let the children sleep.”

  “I'm picking up ultra-long-range readings on the scanner. There appear to be a huge number of Uhoor heading right toward us.”

  Crrrap! Not them again. We had a deal. Don't come back, and I won't make your sorry asses, assuming they had asses, extinct.

  “How far out? How long do we have?”

  “At their present estimated speed, about a week.”

  “Okay, at least we have plenty of time to prepare. Toño, let's go visit Wrath, see what readings he's getting.”

  We left at a fast walk. I was nervous. Since we returned from that last trip, the one where Heath and Amanda decided to stay put, I'd been kind of avoiding my cube. The things Manly said, the tricks he tried to pull off, and the extreme violence he preached without reservation had cooled my interest in him significantly. I wasn't certain I wanted to associate myself with such a calculating killing machine. But he was good to have around in a fight.

  Once inside, I asked him if he'd detected the Uhoor. “Yes, of course. I noted their course change shortly after they made it. It was unclear initially. They were feeding near a black hole, so my readings were unreliable.”

  “When was that?” I asked darkly.

  “About a year ago.”

 
; “Why did you not inform me of that important update?”

  “You had not come to visit me. How could I inform you?”

  “Ah, radio. Maybe turn on your external speakers and shout real loud.”

  “I do not have speakers, external or other.”

  “Let it go. I want an honest, no-bullshit answer. Is there anything else you know I would like to know but have not told me because I've been ignoring you?”

  “No, not really.”

  “Wrath! That's a bullshit answer. What else do you know about potential threats that you have yet to cough up?”

  “Toño noticed some low frequency signals in a ground-based transponder.”

  “Yes, about a year ago. They wax and wane but have never increased,” said Toño.

  “They are warp signatures,” stated Manly.

  I looked to Toño. “You have a clue what he just said?”

  He shook his head. “Not really. Wrath, are you referring to the Alcubierre warp drive theorized to allow a vessel to travel faster than the speed of light?”

  “Yes. The warp technology is not theoretical. It has been developed many times by various civilizations. It is, however, highly inferior to the space folding that I perform. Specifically, if not balanced just so, the temperature inside the warp bubble skyrockets to the extreme. Tricky stuff.”

  “Okay, science lesson over.” I was hot. “You detected warp signatures and didn't tell me. Why?”

  “They represented no immediate threat. They still may not.”

  “May not? If they may not represent a threat, then they might also. What threat can they pose?”

  “The warp use, none.”

  “You spoke of a potential threat, then you say the warp field isn't a threat. Please cut the crap and tell me what I want to hear.”

  “The warp technology itself is neither harmful or harmless. It is a tool. What could be problematic is what's inside the bubbles traveling faster than light.”

  “There are more than one? What could be in the bubbles?”

  “Anything, Form. Anything imaginable that wants to get somewhere else as fast as possible.”