The Independent Worlds (The Sixteen Galaxies Book 2) Page 11
*****
Watford Glen, Nebraska
Sunlight glinted off the car’s windshield as it roared up the long driveway, and a plume of dust rose in its wake. Timothy Cardwell squinted at the distant vehicle, but it was too far away to make it out properly. He put the piston in his hand down on the workbench in front of him and went over to the little washstand. He washed his hands and headed into the depths of the old barn. “Heads up, Mitch, we got a live one coming in.”
There was a snap and a bang, and Mitch Jackson emerged from under an old Cessna, holding his hand and turning the air purple with his language. “Dammit Tiny, I was seconds away from freeing that bolt, too.”
“Sorry, man. You told me to let you know if that guy from the bank turned up, and I figured this would be him.”
“Yeah?” Mitch snarled. “Well, if it is him, I’m in the right mood to deal with him, now.”
Timothy put himself between his former boss and the doorway, and held up both hands. “Look, Mitch, there ain’t no point in getting this guy riled up even worse. All you’re gonna do is make it harder on all of us.”
Mitch fixed his glare on his former co-pilot. “You got just ten seconds to get out of my way, Tiny, or I’ll-”
“Well, now,” a new voice called from outside, “I ain’t seen you boys in three years and you’re still fighting like two little girls.”
Timothy spun round at the voice. “Drifter?!”
Mitch’s face changed instantly. “Well, I’ll be damned. If it ain’t the old buzzard himself!”
The three men exchanged handshakes and backslaps all round. Mitch went to the old refrigerator by the door and pulled out three beers. They spent some time catching up on all the news together, and reliving old times. But, as these things always go, a small silence eventually presented itself.
“So,” Drifter said, “I hear you boys could lose this place real soon.”
Tiny looked at his boots in silence, and Mitch sighed. “Our pensions ain’t enough to keep up with the bills no more, Drifter. What with the drones folks have started using over the last couple of years, there ain’t a lot of call for us round here no more.” Mitch threw a quick look at the old, but well maintained, Bell 47 crop-dusting helicopter in the yard outside.
Drifter shook his head sadly. “You were the best damned Snake pilot I ever seen, Mitch. And Tiny was the gunner the ‘Cong feared the most. It ain’t right you boys are just scraping by.”
The opening riff of Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Free Bird’ came out of nowhere, and Mitch pulled out his cell-phone. He grimaced when he saw the number. He went to put the phone back, but Drifter held up a hand.
“You need to take that call, Mitch.”
Mitch shook his head. “That’s the bank manager, Drifter. I got nothing to say to him that ain’t been said already.” He cast a sideways glance at Tiny. “Besides, I’d only make it worse anyhow.”
Drifter pointed a finger at the phone. “Answer it. Now.”
Mitch frowned, but did as he was told. “Hey, Duncan. I was going to call you just as soon as I-” Mitch froze, his face a picture of disbelief. “You what now? All of it? But, who…” His eyes focused on Drifter, who just sat and smiled.
Tiny looked from one to the other. “What in hell is going on?”
Mitch held up a hand to Tiny and listened a moment longer. “Okay, Duncan, I’ll come on in right now. What? I have no clue at the moment, but I have someone here who might be able to explain it. I’ll talk to you real soon, ‘bye now.”
Mitch hung up the phone and turned a pale face to Tiny. “Somebody called the bank this morning and transferred a whole pile of money into our account.”
Tiny sat up straight at that. “How much they give us?”
Mitch turned his gaze to Drifter. “Three hundred and forty-two thousand dollars; just a little over the mortgage for this place, plus all the loans we took out to try and hang onto it.” He gave Drifter a hard look. “You come into a pile of money by any chance, Drifter?”
Drifter shook his head. “Not me. But, I’ll introduce you to the lady who gave you the money.” He pulled a little cube out of his pocket, and laid it on the ground.
A small white globe appeared above the cube. “Hello Mitchell, Hello Timothy, my name is Truly.”
10
Global News Update
“…The Letterbox Sniper has struck again. This time in New Zealand. Environment Minister Clifford Routledge was killed by a single shot to the head while giving a speech in Dunedin, a city on the country’s South Island. Minister Routledge had been in office just over two years. New Zealand police have confirmed that a number 3 was found on a rooftop just over 600 yards from the scene. This is the third killing in as many days, and politicians the world over are now protected by heavy security wherever they go.
“Speculation continues to build that the gunman is attached to the Sixteen Galaxies, as the ease with which the sniper carries out each attack totally undetected indicates the possible use of a ‘Portal’; a form of teleportation known to be in common use in that society, and the same method by which the wanted criminal John Crabtree carried out the assassination of former US president Wilson Dexter. Crabtree’s military record shows no training as a sniper, and he has no known connection to the Sixteen Galaxies. So authorities are keeping an open mind as to whether he is responsible.
“Within two hours of the murder, another video was released by the sniper, in which the gunman claimed Minister Routledge was the architect of a cover-up of a toxic waste spill off the coast of New Zealand, which wreaked havoc on the South Island’s western coast last year. Once again, the sniper claims to have sent conclusive proof to the authorities. New Zealand police have refused to comment as to whether the sniper’s claim is true or not.”
*****
Kareetha
“Hey there; welcome back to the land of the living.” Mandy Somers squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light. The first person she saw was Christine Joyce, who smiled down at her. Christine turned and accepted a container of liquid from a young girl behind her.
The girl smiled and bowed to Mandy. “Welcome to Kareetha, Mandy.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, please forgive me; I mean Ms Somers. Chris told me I mustn’t use first names first. I’m not very used to Earth customs, I’m afraid. My name is Tenseel, umm, how do you do?” She stifled a giggle. “That sounds so funny.” She bowed to Christine. “I have to prepare for the light dance tonight. Please say you’ll come; you too, Ms Somers.”
“I will be there,” Chris replied, “and Mandy will come if she feels well enough, okay?”
“Thank you,” the girl said. She bowed again and ran off down the hall.
Christine smiled at Mandy. “I’m sorry about that, the kids here take a little getting used to. How do you feel?”
Mandy sat up and took the drink from Christine. “Thanks. I don’t feel too bad at all, to be honest.” She took a sip of the drink. She felt a tingle in her throat, and the fog in her mind cleared instantly.
Chris caught the change of expression. “Yeah,” she said with a smile, “beats the hell out of any coffee I ever tasted. It’s the juice of a fruit that grows on some incredibly huge black trees outside. Wakes you up in an instant.”
Mandy drank some more of the juice, and set the container down on a table beside the inversion plate. She looked around her. The room they were in was way bigger than any on Nuthros’ ship, and to her left was a viewport that showed a magnificent lake, with a backdrop of impossibly high mountains. “Where am I?”
“Well,” Chris replied, “you’re actually on another planet.”
Mandy ‘s eyes widened. “I’m what?!”
Chris patted her arm. “It’s okay, you’re perfectly safe; you’re on Kareetha, the capital planet of the Sixteen Galaxies.”
Mandy laid back down and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head spun. “How long have I been out?”
“To be honest,” Chris replied, “I couldn’t tell you
, exactly. Time isn’t something these people seem to care much about. No clocks, no phones, nothing. They all have these implants; it’s all they need. The days on this planet are about twice as long as ours, and we’ve been here five days. So I guess, including the trip here, you’ve been out for about two weeks.”
“Two weeks?! And how did I get here?”
“Truly left us in an escape pod, and Brantok picked us up. Truly and then Breetak, the ship AIs, kept you in a coma until we got here. Then they removed the micro drone that was inside you.” She caught Mandy’s look. “Sorry, I forgot. You’ve been out since then, and you couldn’t know. When John Crabtree shot you, the bullet had this little machine inside it, which they used to connect to Truly, or something like that. The thing was booby-trapped and they had to get you here to take it out.”
“What about Ja…” Suddenly it all came back; Kestil’s last words before Jack kicked the chair at John. She saw the smirk on Kestil’s face, and the cold gaze that Jack gave the alien. She put a hand to her forehead. “He killed my parents. Jack…Jack killed my parents.”
Chris grabbed her hand. “We don’t know that for sure, Mandy.”
“Kestil said…said he did. I need to see him, to see Jack. I have to know.”
She sat back up, but Chris held her hand tight and put her other hand on Mandy’s shoulder. “He’s back on Nuthros’ ship, Mandy; literally worlds away. Besides, Kestil’s a born liar, he could’ve said that to throw you off, or something.”
Mandy looked at Chris carefully. “I’m an investigative reporter, Chris, and I can tell when someone’s not being straight with me.”
Chris rubbed her neck. “Oh, I don’t know, Mandy. Jack got all upset that Nuthros, David and Truly knew about his past. It sounded like he was some kind of spy, or something, I just don’t know.”
Mandy scowled at the floor. “Then he’s a lying piece of trash; that’s what he is. I should’ve let him take that bullet.”
*****
Council Hall, Kareetha
The full Council of Universal Harmony watched a few media clips Truly had captured of the latest assassination. A young Portuguese minister, just three weeks in office, shot by a sniper as he attended an opening ceremony for a new bank in Lisbon. The usual black and gold number was found later by police. Once again the sniper released a video, this time, the young minister was accused of collusion in people smuggling.
A report followed that revealed no less than 37 political figures around the world who had stood down from their positions in various governments in the last week. Most of them cited ‘personal reasons’, but everyone knew the reality.
The images disappeared, and Asdrin got to his feet. “It is clear that this ‘Letterbox Sniper’, as he is now known, is an Independent Worlds operative. Even the Earth’s media postulates that this gunman is utilizing portal technology; though naturally they blame us. Kestil obviously feels the world’s political ranks need a clean-up, and this is his solution. Truly has confirmed that damning evidence has indeed been sent to the relevant authorities for each victim, which underlines that this killer has capabilities far beyond that of any human.”
Asdrin slowly surveyed his fellow councilors. “The Earth’s authorities have no ability to prevent further attacks, that much is certain. The gunman can appear anywhere and anytime he chooses, and there is nothing they can do to stop him.” He held up a finger. “However, there is a possibility that our operatives can.”
Baelet, the councilor from the planet Prentersea, stood. “This is a very thin line we’ve drawn here. The humans Ron Baxter and Jack Short are technically of the planet Earth, but since Truly enhanced them, can they really be considered separate entities to the Sixteen Galaxies?”
Councilor Kenter, from Sestern III, got to his feet. “They cannot, in my opinion. Without our assistance, they would be no more capable than any other human to prevent further attacks. Let’s be perfectly clear here. The instant we send those two men to intervene, we have taken aggressive action. At that point, our passive stance ends.”
He resumed his seat and Pthent, from Turoth VII, stood. “It could be argued that this point is moot, as we abandoned our passive course when Truly destroyed Kestil’s fleet. Maybe even before that; when Truly intervened to save Ron Baxter the first time. Or even when she destroyed Kestil’s first warship. I would argue that the line is, in fact, very broad, and we are well across it already.”
Pthent resumed his seat, and the entire council sat in contemplative silence. Hiram made sure nobody else wished to speak before he rose from his chair. “My fellow councilors,” he began. “I see the pain this situation puts you all under, and I count myself extremely fortunate to be in your company. On Earth, the debate would not be about whether to get involved or not, but how best to cover our involvement.” Several councilors nodded resignedly. “The fact is,” Hiram went on, “I cannot see how the Sixteen Galaxies can possibly avoid war sooner or later. If Kestil is not stopped on Earth, then the human race will, one day, become part of the Independent Worlds. Once they are integrated, what will come next? Surely, you all know the answer to that.” Nobody disagreed, so he continued. “There is no question of if we should act, only a question of when and how. If we can stop Kestil on Earth, and prevent the integration of humanity into the Independent Worlds, perhaps outright war between our two societies can be avoided.”
Brantok stood and Hiram resumed his seat with a bow. “Hiram has underscored my own sentiments exactly,” Brantok said. “Our passive stance has been the best course for many thousands of cycles. However, forces are now at work which we have not encountered in all that time. Our future course of action must be to save as many lives as possible. To that end, Kestil must not succeed on Earth. In space, we are able to nullify Independent World’s ships at will. We cannot do the same on a planet. Especially not Earth, as Kestil’s AI prevents proper access, outside of the Starchild’s ability while on the surface, that is. I say we act.”
Baelet rose from her seat. “I agree.”
One by one, the rest of the council got to their feet. Hiram was the last, but he nodded at Asdrin. The old man sighed. “We are in full agreement, then. So be it.”
*****
Global News Update
“…13 students died today and an unknown number were seriously injured when an impromptu anti-globalization rally in Beijing was brought to an abrupt end by Chinese authorities. The army was called in, and witnesses heard gunshots amid thick clouds of teargas. Police sealed off the entire area, and Chinese authorities have denied there were any fatalities. However, amateur video was posted on the internet just hours after the attack, which clearly showed 13 covered bodies lying on the ground. The Chinese government has refused to make any further comment on the incident.
“The Japanese Island of Hokkaido is still reeling after the eye of Typhoon Nala swept over the island yesterday. A devastating high category 5 typhoon, Nala brought winds of over 220 miles per hour, the strongest ever recorded; stronger even than last year’s Hurricane Patricia, bringing unprecedented destruction and flooding to the area. Authorities estimate that at least 10,000 people are missing, with over 450 already confirmed dead. Climatologists are again calling for a sixth category to be added to the Saffir-Simpson Hurricane Scale, as the current top category of 5 is no longer enough. Climatologist Peter Sutton-Barker had this to say when asked for a comment. ‘The situation is ludicrous. It’s the literal equivalent of a speedometer that only goes up to 100 being fitted to a Lamborghini that can reach 220; it’s essentially meaningless. It’s time we recognized climate change is here to stay and adjusted our scales of measurement accordingly.’”
*****
Kareetha
Mandy finally agreed to accompany Chris to see Tenseel’s ‘Light Dance’, as she felt no physical ill effects from her recent trauma at all. She marveled at the way the Sixteen Galaxies people were able to restore her entire mind and body, almost as if the whole incident never took place. T
here was no delayed shock such as she had seen in others who had gone through such traumas. She appreciated just how lucky she was not to be showing any signs of Post-Traumatic Stress. She was also surprised at how much of the treatment involved remedies taken from the flora and fauna of this remarkable planet. She was still in a deep funk over what she had learned about Jack, or whatever his name really was, so she thought this show might cheer her up.
Chris and Mandy weaved their way through the crowd of people gathered at the lake shore, until they found Hiram. Mandy saw that most groups were families; older and younger generations all mixed together with no discernable age barriers. There was a small group of robed individuals who also sat with Hiram, and she presumed this was the council she had heard so much about. One of the men appeared much older than the rest; he looked quite out of place. He spotted Mandy as she stared at him. He smiled and gave a slight nod of his head. She smiled back awkwardly; embarrassed at being caught out.
Chris had been unable to tell Mandy much about the light dance. All she knew was that it featured the Kentiks; spiral winged insects that Tenseel designed herself. Mandy was staggered at the intellect of the children here. They studied bio-engineering, advanced robotics, and even coded genetics. Yet, they displayed all the mannerisms and vibrant curiosity one would expect from children their age. People on Earth devoted their adult lives to serious contemplation of such deep and complex matters, while the children on Kareetha played with the same subjects as if they were toys.
The excited hubbub of voices died down as Tenseel stood and turned to face them. Once again, she gave a little bow. “Thank you all for coming here tonight; I hope everyone enjoys the show. As we have two visitors with us from Earth,” she waved to Mandy and Chris, “I shall explain briefly what I am about to do.” She held both hands aloft and a crowd of odd-looking insects rose from the bushes behind her. Mandy gasped at the sight. This was her first venture outside on Kareetha, and she had not yet set eyes on a Kentik. They were similar to butterflies, but their wings were, as Chris had told her, a spiral shape. They twisted themselves one way to rise and the opposite way to descend. All of them bobbed up and down slightly in perfect unison; it was magical to watch them. They looked like ballet dancers with long, flowing skirts.