The Gathering Storm Read online

  Upon the recruitment of the Director, Lord Neptune had communicated the Tschaaa’s grand plan for the human race. A specific type of protocol had been envisioned. Adam came to know it as the Protocol of Selective Survival. They were to be a client species like the lizards (a reptilian species), the manufactured grey clones, and the cyborg robocop warriors and front men who were created from human genome samples.

  Adam opened the physical folder containing the original materials he used for the briefings and looked at the photos inside. The Tschaaa were a spacefaring race who had conquered the bipedal lizards, and in the process found the remains of other alien civilizations, including genetic material from Earth species with the remains of another humanoid race from an unidentified planet. Included were frozen ova, sperm and DNA samples from human ancestors. Lord Neptune told him they were from Gigantopithicus and Homo erectus. Apparently, someone had visited Earth in ancient times. But unfortunately, along with the human samples and other artifacts of alien technology, they had brought back something hidden. Something sinister that would be their undoing.

  The Plague. The White Plague which would nearly destroy all of the Tschaaa major source of meat and protein.

  Adam scanned some of the additional slides he used for the orientation briefing. The Tschaaa had moved from sea to land at one point in their evolution, becoming amphibian. Their octopus and squid like-structures being modified by Darwinian pressures to incorporate a pliable cartilage rudimentary skeleton. Thus, they could scuttle along for short distances similar to a crab, a cartoon octopus on tippy toes. At the same time, they kept their ability to change the color of their skin to blend in with their surroundings, becoming excellent ambush hunters on land.

  Adam looked at photos of their primary prey. The meat creatures were a primate-like species, with chocolate-colored skin and faces like an Earth tarsier. He examined the before and after pictures of what the White Plague did to the primate meat prey. As the Plague progressed, the dark skin became bleached out, nearly white. But even more importantly, the primate meat itself became poisonous, especially to the Tschaaa young. Other mammal species were affected as well, to a lesser though often still disastrous degree.

  Culture collapse, pure and simple, began for the Tschaaa. The closest situation on Earth that Adam could imagine would have been if the African Maasai tribesman had been told that, after several hundred years of being a culture of cattle herders, meat and beef blood eaters, were told overnight they had to become vegetarians. No matter the comparison, the Tschaaa civilization began to collapse. The thought of going completely back to their large oceans for life was not an option, even if they had wanted to return. They had outgrown their original environment.

  For the first time in Tschaaa history, inter-Crèche conflict began, with one Crèche that had pushed for a recognition of the sentience of the prey primates and a return to the old ways of the oceans being blamed for the Plague. Before the actual origins of the Plague were discovered–and for the very first time in Tschaaa history– a genocide resulted in a bloodline all but being wiped out. Then the human samples were re-discovered, as was their planet of origin, Earth.

  This revelation in turn launched two massive projects by a species that had a history of cooperation many times greater than had ever been demonstrated in Earth humans. First, the Tschaaa began to grow human-based meat samples in vats, their biological science being much more advanced than anything than had ever been accomplished in the history of human science.

  Millions of Tschaaa had died due to poisoned meat or malnutrition during the first year of the White Plague. A small breeding population of their homegrown primates was kept alive in isolation and a test program of vat grown meat products, both from the native primates and Earth-based species, was expanded as quickly as possible. Actual living specimens were created from the Gigantopithacus and Homo erectus materials. Within twenty years, a viable breeding population for both Earth primate species was created, in addition to the vat grown meat.

  The Tschaaa had great difficulty producing viable Tschaaa offspring with their available resources. There was a limit as to what could be done with the available genetic material and breeding population. The population of available sea-based food creatures had significantly diminished over the years. These realities led to the development of the second project–the construction of huge generational starships as the solution to the crisis–visit the home of the Homo genus. Earth.

  No longer would the Tschaaa base all their hopes on one idea; being married to the idea of cultivating meat creatures on their home world had been their undoing. They would go to Earth, to harvest fresh dark meat and genetic material. The White Plague caused them to think that “white meat was bad, dark meat was good”, despite the fact that early produced examples of human flesh showed pigmentation of the meat source did not matter. All the Earth hominid samples seemed immune from the effects of the White Plague.

  The Tschaaa next developed warp or hyperdrive technology to cheat the speed of light limitation. However, due to the stupendous energy sources needed to propel craft using these methods, that technology was reserved for smaller scout ships and military raiders. Instead, thirteen huge, slower-moving, multi-generational starships were also produced, each one with the volume and space of an Earth city. Each would carry large numbers of a single breeding Crèche, a bloodline, similar to a huge human extended family. Meat-producing growth vats were placed on the ships, as were areas where populations of Earth primates could be housed as sources of fresh meat.

  The final project was the stupendous hollowed-out asteroid, which later became known to the humans as Base One. Several mass drivers were mounted as oversized projectile weapons in and around Base One, also being used as spacecraft propulsion in a pinch.

  After some twenty years of construction and preparation, the harvesting fleet was launched toward Earth. Acceleration of the starships was slow, a little over half the speed of light being reached in the first decade. The near Thousand Year Trek began. And, unfortunately for humankind, the voyage successfully ended here on Earth.

  In light of this knowledge, Adam had to somehow convince the new arrivals to the project that they would not be cattle, meat for the larders of the Tschaaa. It was especially rough when he had to acknowledge the elephant in the room–that the Squids liked human young, as some humans used to enjoy veal cutlets. It always triggered some gag reflexes for the audience when that informational tidbit sank in. The Protocol would be successful if and only if the people working for the Reformed States of America and really believed the Director when he said they were a protected class. So far, so good.

  The loud buzz of his intercom brought Adam back to the present.

  “Chief is here, Director,” Mary Lou announced from the outer office.

  “Send him in, Mary Lou.” Adam knew the Chief was as much checking up on him as he was coming to discuss any possible fallout from the orientation briefing. It was not uncommon for individuals to ask to leave after Adam had explained the conditions and expectations at Key West. But often that could have been communicated over the telephone.

  Chief Hamilton opened the office door and closed it behind him. “Ruminating again, Boss?”

  Adam smiled at the oft-repeated question. “You know me too well, Willie.”

  “Hell, Boss, we’ve been together as long as some married couples. Of course I know you.”

  Adam laughed. It was a good release of tension, after the stressful orientation. “Here’s the bottle. Fix yourself a drink.”

  “Never turned that offer down.” The Chief took the bottle, strided purposefully to the full wet bar in the corner of the office, and expertly poured himself a scotch on the rocks. He then pulled up a chair and sat near the corner of the desk.

  “Kempai, as we used to say to each other on Okinawa.”

  “That seems like ages ago, Chief.”

  “Hell, Adam, it was. We are in a completely different age of Homo sapiens development.
Thanks to our Squid... masters.”

  Adam took a sip of his drink, then took the bottle and freshened it. He looked directly at the older man. “Still think about woulda, coulda happened?”

  The Chief snorted. “All the time. It would have been a helluva lot simpler if a piece of that rock that broke up over Atlanta during our meeting had hit us. Quick, sure. And I would have gone with my wife and kids.”

  Adam was lucky, in a way. He had been single when things blew up. He did not have to suffer the pain of a dead spouse or children.

  “But,” the Chief continued. “We wouldn’t be here, saving at least part of the human race. It all worked out for a purpose.”

  Adam raised his glass. “To the Mission, Willie.”

  “To the Mission, Adam.” They each took a large swig from their drinks.

  “Now, to current business. How many are making noises of leaving after my presentation?”

  “Surprisingly, Boss, just the one person who I had already pegged as questionable.”

  Adam frowned. “Who’s that?”

  “Professor Joseph Fassbinder’s wife, Professor Sarah Broadmore-Fassbinder. She had a burr in her saddle, as they say, the minute I showed up at their survival compound. She let me know she thought you and I were devils incarnate.”

  “Then why did she come here?”

  “I think it was a combination of not willing to let hubby go, out of her control–you’re seeing him later this afternoon–and the chance to tell you exactly what she thinks of you. Maybe throw a drink in your face.”

  “Well, she’ll have a chance at the icebreaker shindig we have tonight. We’ll see if the new attire I provided to her and the other women will soften her at all. Any children?”

  “Nope. I suspect the Ice Queen’s womb would freeze any invading sperm before it got to the right place.” Adam began to laugh. There were times when Chief Hamilton had just the right way of putting things.

  When he stopped chuckling, Adam asked, “Suit and tie, right Chief?”

  The older man’s face showed his displeasure. “Yes, Boss. I’ll put a monkey suit on just for you. But only for you. If you ever get bumped off, however, every one of those suits is being buried with you.”

  Adam grinned. “I’ll just have to make sure, with your help, that doesn’t happen.”

  “Which reminds me... are you still wearing your Glock 26 and SP101 like I asked?”

  Adam opened his suit coat. “Look for yourself. Gold plated with a bit of pearl in the handle for the Ruger .357. All showy yet will still blow a hole in someone.”

  “Consider it a trade-off, Boss. You wear the pistols for me, I wear a monkey suit for you.”

  “Hey, I thought I was the Director–the head mofo in charge.”

  The Chief’s expression registered fake surprise. “Oh, you are. You just do this for me because you love me. After all, we’ve been together as a couple now for…”

  Adam began to laugh again. “Out. Go harass the troops some more. I have more new people to meet this afternoon.”

  “One being a sexy blond?”

  “Out!” The Director picked up a pencil from his desk, and gestured toward the door. “I’ll see you tonight, Chief.”

  “Right, Boss. With bells on.” Adam threw the pencil at him as he left, and began to laugh again.

  CHAPTER 3

  ATLANTA, CATTLE COUNTRY

  The character of Adam Lloyd remains one of the most disputed aspects of the history of the coming of the Tschaaa, often referred to as the Tschaaa Infestion. Some have concluded that Adam Lloyd had acted the part of a traitor in being so willing to sacrifice some individuals to save others. Why should a man who had left the U.S. Air Force as a mere rank of Captain been given complete discretionary power over the life and death of thousands? And how could only one man determine the criteria that would determine those who would be victims and those who would be survivors? My research indicated that it was the unique personality characteristics of the Captain that had led to the degree of trust reposed in him by the Tschaaa.

  What were these points of character in which Adam Lloyd surpassed most of the surviving men of his time? As a Royal Princess, trained in the code of the Samurai, I had been sensitized from a young age to a code of behavior which I found echoed in the particular character of Adam Lloyd. One of the principles of my early training was that ‘groundedness’ was the first principle of the Samurai. The Samurai must know his Lord. A Samurai cannot be a effective servant without grounding. But, once knowing the direction in once he is to move, he may proceed with confidence. Adam Lloyd recognized the inevitability of his contact with the Tschaaa or its minions. Thus, he shaped those around him into a proto-organization that would fit the Protocols of the Tschaaa.

  Others have proposed the idea that Adam was merely an opportunist, possibly with a hint of sociopathy, selfishly driven to feather his own nest and insure his own comfort and survival. After all, Adam Lloyd lived rather well during the period in question.

  The third theory was that Adam Lloyd was willing to make the best of a bad situation and take responsibilities for his action because no one else was willing to do so. It should never be forgotten in these times of comparative peace what it was like to have every governmental structure lying in ruins. Nor should it be forgotten that complete anarchy reigned supreme in the areas designated as Feral. Compared to this reality, the selective harvesting in the areas presided over by Adam Lloyd seemed comparatively civilized. Of course, those conditions were in direct contradiction to the existence of those in what was eventually called Cattle County.

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

  Martin Luther, acting Mayor of Occupied Atlanta, wished again for the thousandth time that his father had not named him after such an important historical figure in history. That seemed to make people expect more from him. He rubbed his hand through his prematurely graying hair. There was a time when someone might have called his proud mane of curly hair by a more derogatory name, which might have started a fight. That time was long gone.

  He reached into his top right hand drawer and removed a bottle of pre-strike bourbon, and refreshed his glass. Straight up, no ice, because decent alcohol was at a premium and he wasn’t about to water it down. He replaced the bottle, next to the Luger pistol Joe had found for him. Guns and ammunition were at a premium also. At least for some people. Which happened to be the reason of the meeting with the gentleman who just arrived. The room he now occupied was a hotel suite in one of the few high end buildings still left standing in downtown Atlanta. It was referred to as the Mayor’s office now, the original first class hotel chain name long forgotten.

  A loud knock sounded at the door, and a huge shadow of a man opened it. Joe, his aide and protector, entered the room. “He’s here, Boss.”

  “Thanks, Joe. What name is he using now?”

  The former NFL draft pick gave a wry smile. “Malcolm X. Carter.”

  Martin grunted. Another young black man with delusions of grandeur? God, he hoped not. “Show him in, please.”

  “Right, Boss.”

  A muscular young man with cropped hair, dark glasses, and dark suit that complemented the tone of his skin entered the room. Martin quickly noticed he had a Samsonite briefcase handcuffed and chained to his left wrist. He also remarked to himself that his was the darkest black man he had seen in years, even darker than Joe.

  Joe had survived through a fluke, Andrew believed. How had “Malcolm X. Carter” survived? The Squids had been drawn to darker-skinned humans as soon as they noticed the color variations in our species; the humans that had the darkest skin in any population were harvested first. The automated harvester robots would sometimes be overwhelmed with the quantity of meat available. Eventually, this led the programmed machines to overload and reject those same individuals, freeing the fortunate ones who had not been culled previously. That apparently had happened to Joe. The same with this young man?

/>   The Mayor did not offer a hand, but nodded in the young man’s direction. “Have a seat, please, Mister… Carter is it?”

  “My name isn’t important. What I have to offer is.”

  Malcolm set the briefcase firmly on the large desk in front of Martin. He unlocked the handcuff from his wrist and opened the case. As the youth reached in, Joe appeared as if by magic, his huge hand on a large Bowie knife he kept concealed under his suit coat. “Careful, son. Nice and slow.”

  Malcolm smirked. “Do you think I would have come by myself if I wanted to cap someone, old man?”

  Joe visibly clenched his jaw, but a look from Martin stopped him from reacting with a fist. They had worked together for five years, so Joe knew by a look and didn’t need a further word to confirm what his boss might be thinking. Joe took a step back, while Martin leaned over the case to take a closer look. Inside were three Sig Sauer .40 caliber automatics, in near pristine condition.

  “Hm. Seems you definitely have the goods, Mr. Carter.”

  “Malcolm. Malcolm X. will do for today. How many you want?”

  “At least six. Plus ammunition and spare magazines.”

  Malcolm calmly answered, “That can be done.”

  The Mayor was surprised. This young man seemed not to have a care in the world. “So, what do you want in return?”

  In response, Malcolm made himself at home in the chair behind him. He pulled out a cigarette case from an inside suit pocket, removed a cigarette, lit it with a gold lighter, and began to slowly smoke. Martin was an itinerant smoker, and could not help but enjoy when others indulged. Malcolm saw this, and offered him a cigarette, which Martin gladly took. As the Mayor lit his cigarette, Malcolm began. “Let me tell you a story, Mister Mayor. A story of a young man whose path started one way, and ended up another.