The Gathering Storm Page 29

  Cliff smiled at her warmly. “That’s why I love you. You’re definitely a thinker and a romantic, all rolled up into one.”

  “One last little set of factoids,” Cliff continued. “Over the last six years, the Squids have been sweeping the various Earth orbits of all the space junk. Dead satellites, pieces of rocket boosters, dropped wrenches and hammers from various space walks, pieces of asteroids caught in Earth’s gravity well. Guess what they did to all that stuff?”

  “Boosted it toward the sun?” suggested Sandy.

  “Naw, that would be a waste of resources. They brought them to Base One, melted and welded them together, and have these objects sitting by the mass drivers. That way, if they wanted to, the Tschaaa would have a ready made batch of rocks to sling at us. We’d have another nuclear winter if they ever do it. I don’t believe they’d do that because it would seriously affect their breeding Crèches, but they could sure smash a few population centers as a reminder to not piss them off. So, we have a sword of Damocles above our heads. Well, not our heads, because we are up here, but everyone else’s.”

  Cliff then flashed a smile. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

  A few hours later, the four new arrivals had their cubicles and sleeping quarters set up. Cliff had grabbed Bettie’s gear and stowed it in his quarters. “I can rig another hammock for you, or we can sleep on the floor. On the floor, we can wrap around each other, though I don’t have a lot of padding.”

  Bettie slyly smiled at him. “You forget I’m a pilot too. And what are aircrew good at? Scrounging.” She quickly pulled two plastic wrapped bundles out of her equipment bag, and threw them to Cliff.

  “Air mattresses. How did you think about packing two? Plan on finding a boyfriend?”

  Bettie blushed a little. “Actually, now that we are alone, Sandy and I had a little… something going on very recently.”

  Cliff raised his eyebrow. “I didn’t realize you were interested in other women.”

  “I wasn’t. It just... happened. Literally. One minute, I am straighter than straight, next minute...”

  Cliff's brow furrowed. “Hmmm. I have something to show you in the labs later. The Tschaaa have us working on some human biology experiments that seem fairly benign. Now, I wonder...”

  Bettie blushed more. “Are you…angry?”

  Cliff stepped forward and kissed her. “You love me; I love you. We were supposed to both be dead; we are not. The past is the past. Now, we can at least try to start over where we left off.” Bettie grabbed him and hugged him as tightly as she could. Cliff was slightly taken aback. “Damn, woman! What have you been doing, powerlifting?” Cliff hugged her back, but definitely not as tightly.

  Bettie slowly released her squeeze. “I thought I was dreaming when I saw you. I grieved when, after a year, I had not heard from you. I was certain you were dead. I was surviving hand to mouth until about two years ago, when the Director and his people first showed up at the Cape. We have been slowly rebuilding ever since. Now, I am here.”

  She kissed him slowly, nibbling on his mouth. He kissed her lips, and then her throat and her neck. Bettie began to breathe harder. She ran her long fingers through his hair as he embraced her fully for the first time in six years. Finally, she slowly pushed him back.

  “One moment, please darling. I think we have a few moments for personal time.”

  With practiced ease, she unzipped her flight suit. Underneath were green panties and bra. Not exactly fancy lingerie, but to Cliff they were the sexist things he had ever seen.

  “Still remember how to unhook a bra?”

  “I think so, Bettie. If not, I suspect you will help me.”

  “Darling Cliff, I will help you with anything you want.”

  “Anything?” He asked, with a bit of a leer.

  Before he knew it, she had shucked her bra. “Guess,” she answered.

  About a half hour later, they were laying on their flight suits on the hard floor. Bettie felt like she was in a dream. She suddenly pinched herself, hard. “Ouch!” she exclaimed.

  Cliff looked concerned. “What are you doing?”

  “I had to make sure this wasn’t just a dream.”

  “It’s real enough, alright. What is going to be dreamlike is when I travel back to Earth with you.”

  Bettie kissed his chest. “I’ll get you there. I’m also sure I can help you find something to do.”

  Cliff frowned. “What if I want to go to the Unoccupied States?”

  Bettie contemplated his question. “I don’t actually know. The Director says that everyone is free to leave within the first twenty-hours after they arrive. I have not heard of him stopping anyone.”

  “Would he tell people if someone left?”

  “I think so. The odd thing is that neither the Tschaaa Lordship nor he makes any attempt to hide things from us. He allows people outside the Tschaaa controlled areas to hack into the new internet. He has provided medical treatment to people who just showed up from the Feral areas, then let them leave. I saw that happen more than once when he took control of the Cape.”

  “He hasn’t tried to take out the Unoccupied States?”

  “No, Cliff. Even after quite a few assassination attempts. The last one was close, too.”

  “What about Cattle Country?”

  Bettie sighed. “Yes, he keeps the people designated as meat contained. I know that he looks at it as the lesser of two evils. The alternative is to put everyone on the menu.”

  “What do you think, Bettie?”

  She paused. She had to admit to herself that this was a subject she tried not to think too often about. “Cliff, the idea that any human is being eaten makes me ill. I have to admit, however, that I am not ready to attempt a suicide mission to stop it. Because that is what it would be, a suicide mission. I know that, as a military member, I should have resisted to the end. After everything fell apart and I had no real way to carry on a war against occupation, I entered survival mode. The Director found out who and what I was, and offered me a job and a chance to travel back into space. I took it. Is that selfish? Yes. I only hope that someday I am in a position to help those people I left behind.”

  Cliff kissed her. “I guess all we can do is what I have been doing for the last six years. Take life one day at a time.”

  He stood up. “Come on, I think we need to find the others and try to put a meal together. Then finally get some sleep. Lord Wizard is a hard task master. He’ll keep us busy until we leave. I just hope the Olsons know what they are getting into by volunteering to stay.”

  CHAPTER 22

  KEY WEST, FLORIDA

  The Director sat quietly after speaking with Professor Fassbinder. The short conversation after the arrival of the spaceplane at its destination had been broadcast live, with Kathy providing an introduction and conclusion. He had congratulated the crew on their achievement, and mentioned in passing that one of the more permanent human occupants of the Platform would be returning to Earth, but he did not specify the name. It was only the previous week, that Cliff Hunter and his history had been revealed to Adam. He was beginning to realize that, although the Tschaaa had a cultural aversion against outright lying, his Lordship had developed a good ability to remain silent about something until he was ready to reveal it. Perhaps it was a form of purposeful ignorance. If his Lordship did not admit to it, it did not exist yet.

  Adam stood and stretched. He was going to head to the gym in about an hour for another workout with Heidi Faust, the former Coastie. She had demonstrated an excellent working knowledge of all things martial arts related, and had begun instructing him quite in Filipino knife fighting techniques. Heidi possessed a physical speed and strength beyond any normal human her size, especially most women he had known. The tricks she had shown him with a balisong folding knife that were a blur when she performed them.

  His radio phone pinged. “Director here.”

  “Director Lloyd.” It was Andrew. “I will be at your office within ten m
inutes. The Lordship wishes to speak to you on a secure line.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  The Tschaaa Lord had provided a recorded message for the successful spaceplane mission that was played as if it were live at the end of the broadcast between Adam and Professor Fassbinder. Now, he wanted to speak with the Director, subject unknown. Adam sighed. Colonel Hunter posed enough of a pain in the ass; Adam did not need any further unforeseen complications.

  Promptly at the ten minute mark, he heard Andrew greeting Mary Lou in the outer office. She did not bother to buzz Andrew in, because if he showed up, Adam was already expecting him.

  The very large cyborg, part man and part mechanical entity, walked effortlessly into the office. The original movie character for whom cyborgs had been dubbed “robocops” thumped around. Andrew could walk stealthily in a gliding fashion that belied his four hundred pound weight. “Good Day, Director.”

  “Good Day, Andrew.”

  Andrew produced the familiar combination handset and screen from the concealed location in his frame. Adam took the device in his hand and announced, “Adam here.”

  “My Director. How are you today? Such a glorious day it is.” His Lordship was in one of his very enthusiastic moods. “The spaceplane mission has shown what humans can do, after recovering from much destruction some six years ago. My fellow Lordships are pleasantly surprised, and greatly impressed. Following the unfortunate forced demise of the African Lordship, I have been able to convince them to follow my lead more each day. Much of this is due to your direct efforts.”

  “Thank you. I am but your humble servant.”

  “Nonsense,” Lordship Neptune answered. “You have taken a small idea from me and built it into a successful mission. As a positive result from your efforts, I have been given complete control of all manufacturing resources. My new soldier class individuals will be grown in large vats at the San Diego/Baja California Complex, at least one being delivered for service each day, with new weapons to match. Other vats are being set up around Earth. I also have been given control of the manufacturing and organic growth resources aboard Base One. Six new robocops, as you call them, are being finished from some human stock from Europe, and six from America. Finally, new deltas and Falcons are being scheduled for manufacture, along with new weapons that have been developed. With the help of you humans, new interstellar craft will be developed and built to replace the inefficient Generational Ships we use now.” Adam could tell by the actions of Lord Neptune’s tentacles that he was very happy.

  “Our participation has that much of an effect, my Lordship?”

  The Tschaaa Lord made a sound the Squid equivalent of a chortle. “Yes. As I have said before, many of my fellow Tschaaa have become lazy and stagnant in their thinking. Because of my success, and continued success of my humans, the Lords are only too are willing to let us perform what you, my Director, would refer to as the ‘heavy lifting’.”

  Adam was pleased. “I hope this will assure the continual survival of my fellow humans.”

  “Of course, Director Lloyd. You and your fellows are rapidly becoming an essential part of the continual healthy existence of the Tschaaa species on this planet. There is an increasing belief that the Earth Mother Ocean is somehow directly connected with our original Mother Ocean at our home world. I do not concern myself with such theological discussions, and I do not see how there could be an actual connection. But, I must admit that I have no explanation as to how your giant squid creatures developed so closely parallel to us, and even larger in size. Your seas and oceans seem to support our way of life even better than our original Mother Ocean, even despite the pollution and abuse you humans inflicted upon the environment.”

  His Lordship could tell by his expression, that Adam was considering whether or not to ask a question. “Present your inquiry, my Director. You cannot anger or offend me. Your loyality and assistance have me, as your saying goes, ‘on the top of the world’.”

  Adam cleared his throat. “My Lordship, with the increases in technology and biological sciences since your arrival, is there a chance that someday you may be able to produce sufficient dark meat artificially, of sufficient quality that not another human will be harvested?”

  His Lordship signed compassion. “Your concern for your yet unborn young does credit to your species. There is always that possibility. Some of your human scientists on Platform One are involved in some experiments that may bear results helpful to achieving that result. But, I must be truthful. My fellow Tschaaa have been accustomed to consuming fresh meat for millennia and may not accept a replacement, unless it is indistinguishable from the original.”

  “Speaking of the Humans on Platform One, are there any...restrictions concerning Colonel Hunter?” Adam asked.

  Lord Neptune’s tentacles ceased their movements for a minute. “I am sorry I could not inform you about him before. Colonel Hunter was almost successful in attacking Base One some six years ago, shooting down several of our deltas. One was piloted by an offspring of mine.”

  “Please accept my condolences, my Lordship.”

  The Tschaaa waved his tentacle in dismissal. “She died as a Warrior, one of a minority of female Tschaaa that achieved success in that distinguished role. She served and died with honor. Colonel Hunter was a worthy opponent. It is what you humans call ‘ancient history’.

  “But to answer your question, you may utilize the Colonel in any way that is productive in achieving your aims with one restriction… please keep him away from any armed space interceptors you may have hidden away.”

  Adam laughed, and his Lordship signed amusement. “You may also discover, my Director, that Colonel Hunter may be distracted at the moment from doing anything complicated. You see, he is a pair mate with your spaceplane pilot, Colonel Bardun.”

  Adam was surprised. “They are a couple, as we humans would say? How did you discover that when he has been incommunicado for some six years?”

  “Some of my secrets must continue to remain so. Now, Adam, I must go. With my new authority comes new responsibilities. Again, congratulations and thank you for your efforts. I will speak with you later.”

  Adam signed off and handed the communicator back to Andrew. “Did you know about the Colonel?”

  “Yes. He is in the Tschaaa databases. But no mention had been made over clear air communication.”

  “Hm... And now I must find a position for him.”

  “If I may suggest, Director, what about spaceplane pilot? You really only have a single experienced one. And a mated pair may work hard for their continued survival.”

  “Very true, Andrew.”

  “Now, you must excuse me, Director. His Lordship has other tasks for me.”

  CHAPTER 23

  WYOMING/UTAH BORDER, UNOCCUPIED STATES OF AMERICA

  One of the concepts that seems to attract and fascinate historians of all types, from armchair to chairs of University departments, is the apparent congruence and confluence of many of the main characters and participants in what we now call the Infestation and the Great Compromise. By some trick or quirk of fate, the working of the Universe, or some invisible hand we have yet to discover, individuals with positions of extreme importance in how things progressed seemed to be destined to come in contact with each other at just the right time, under just the right circumstances. For this was destined to be their future, but is now our realty. One such incident involved two of the central characters instrumental in the future Great Compromise. Who could have foreseen the wide reaching ramifications from the meeting of Torbin Bender and the then Abigail Young, the Avenging Angel, my dear friend?

  - Excerpts from the Literary Works of Princess Akiko, Free Japan Royal Family.

  While the Director was handling the successes associated with the launch and its aftermath, Torbin Bender was coping with a dangerous situation that was rapidly turning to shit. He had begun the morning running training maneuvers with the forty soldiers he was preparing for S-Day. Meanwhile
, Malmstrom Operations Base had received a panicked hotline telephone call from Evanston, Wyoming near the Utah border that they were under attack, followed immediately by silence.

  Torbin and his unit were patrolling for Eaters and Krakens along the Montana/Idaho Border, using the limited mission as a way to shake out the assault unit members, see who worked together the best for the final team. The Unit had already intercepted three Krakens trying to use motorcycles on back roads to infiltrate. A short chase and about a dozen rounds fired, there were three dead Krakens. The base called and directed them to respond.

  They hauled ass down the roads in their Humvees to Evanston and found... no one. According to information based on a limited census conducted some five years ago, there should have been one thousand men, women, and children. They had guns and other arms, so they clearly had some means of self-defense. However, as Torbin and his personnel entered the town, they found nothing moving, not even a single stray animal. Their vehicles crawled down a main street, as they scanned from the side to side. The Tschaaa said that Eaters very rarely attacked in anything larger than a pair. Yet, where was everyone?

  They stopped completely, and dismounted. As they turned off the vehicle engines to listen, they heard a scrabbling sound, growing louder and apparently headed in their direction.

  “What the...” Torbin started to say.

  The Eaters seemed to come from every direction. None had the distended stomach of a recent meal, but some had the beginnings of the two buds that signaled that two more creatures were on the way. There were dozens.

  “360 perimeter! Fire at will!” Torbin yelled, and began firing his assault weapon at one target after another. A couple of Ma Deuces opened up, as well as a M240 medium machine gun. A Mark 19 began shooting 40 mike-mike grenades into the buildings along the side of the street from which the Eaters were exploding. Torbin fired at one rushing at him, stitching rounds thru both large eyes. The Eater’s legs collapsed and the creature pancaked as rounds penetrated to what passed as its brain. He fired at the second Eater that passed into his sight area, putting it down like the first. Next a third. Then a fourth. His weapon ran dry.