Enemy (10 page)

     More gunshots, closer.

     “Come on!” They ran to the back of the Red Room, where an express elevator led down to the White House hangar. Hearing more gunshots from above, Jennings and the soldier descended into the hangar, where a VTOL Spear-4 stood ready for takeoff.

     They ran as quickly as they could to the ramp of the near-vertical jet. The launch doors slid open many stories above them. As they ascended, Jennings turned around just in time to see several of Cervera’s loyalists exit the elevator, weapons drawn. As they opened fire, the officer pulled the hatch shut behind him, and the weak lead slugs bounced harmlessly off the bulletproof surface of the plane.

     “Mister President, it’s highly inadvisable for you to accompany us on this combat run. We don’t know what we’re going to find on that island.”

     “I’m sure I’ll be safer with you than if I stayed behind with Cervera’s forces. Proceed with the mission, and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”

     “Thank you, sir. And may I say that we’re with you all the way. My father and three uncles were killed in War Three, and I lost two brothers in the Quebec War. I don’t want to see our country forced into another war any time soon. Cervera will pay for her treason.”

     “Yes, she will,” Jennings whispered. “Yes. She will.”

     The plane shuddered and flew from beneath the White House into a brilliantly blue sky, leaving the Rocky Mountains behind. It picked up speed and disappeared to the west in a liquid flash of metal.                                  

     Simon.

     The Judas Simon was at the front of the formation of Shadow-driven vessels. They passed through the belt of asteroids between Jupiter and Mars without incident, wary of an Enemy ambush.

     ((there it is.))

     They could see the vessel, a dark silhouette against the sunlit face of Phobos. The red mass that was the fourth planet, Mars, loomed above them as the vessels careened toward oblivion.

     “Look at the size of it.”

     ((it’s preparing to harvest. synthesizing the upload generators for the attack.))

     “Do they see us yet?”

     ((no indication that they’ve been alerted to our presence. the shadows hide us.))

     “So what do you think, Simon? Do we go for it?”

     ((we’ve never captured an enemy at this stage of harvest before. the data we could retrieve from the phase core would be priceless.))

     “Do we board it?”

     ((it’s the only way.))

     “I know, but I still hate sending troops out into close combat.”

     ((so do i, but it must be done.))

     “Wake them up from their heavens, Simon. Wake them all up.”

     The vessels sped on.

     Deep within the Judas vessels, an ancient process began anew.

     Valves opened. Atmosphere was pumped into chambers where lights flickered, brightened. Heating units began to discharge warmth. Artificial gravity was restored.

     Hidden servos whirred; pneumatics pressurized.

     In the vast expanse of chambers, the vessel decoded the genetic patterns of thousands of beings from precious files stored for centuries aboard the Judas and began the recreation process. From the base elements of the galaxy, in a primordial stew of nutrient-rich liquid, the vessel stimulated the formation of molecules, DNA strands, cells, tissue, organs, organisms. The vessel vastly sped up the growing process, and within minutes it had created thousands of perfectly viable organisms in the expanse of stasis chambers, reconstituting from ancient binary code the uploaded consciousnesses of the beings that were the Judas.

     On the surface of the spherical room, doors slid open. From within, a ghostly steam emerged.

     The Judas sentiences began to monitor, probe, analyze, assess the contents of these compartments.

     A favorable judgment reached, the next step was taken.

     Hydraulic systems lifted the contents out.

     In the massive spherical chamber, two thousand sleeping humans lay on elevated platforms, the effects of their rebirth after centuries of emulated hibernation wearing off.

     They were the pawns in the chess match of eternity.

     Santa Fosca.

     Reynald walked on the beach, arms outstretched.

     He wanted to shout at the top of his lungs, to let his rage shatter the very sky above him.

     He fell to his knees, fists covering his eyes, body wracked in silent sobs.

     All the pain...

     The responsibility rested with him, now that Magdalene was dead. The symbol of her end, a dissipating mushroom cloud, scarred the horizon to the north.

     These poor, blind people.

     He kneeled in the shadow of the Enemy.

     The Enemy shard stood before him, like an accusing finger pointed at the sky. The impact crater stretched outwards, the blackened debris of buildings that had been on the island scattered throughout.

     He broke.

     He ran for the shard, uttering his rage through incomprehensible nonsense. He tore the Judas symbol from his chest, and threw it at the dead Enemy vessel.

     “Damn you! DAMN ALL OF YOU!!”

     He fell back to his knees, weeping.

     “Captain?”

     He spun around, his face a grimace of agony, cold eyes flickering between gray and silver, illuminating the tear-wet surface of his wrinkled and scarred face.

     “Captain Reynald?”

     “They won’t get away with this. Command will not get away with her blood on their hands.”

     “No, Captain... Reynald, we’re picking something up on wide-range sensors.”

     “Is it Simon?”

     “No, sir. It’s a native vessel. A warplane. On a direct approach vector.”

     A silver dot formed on the horizon, drew closer.

     ((droptroops prepped.))

     “Take us in.”

     The Judas swept into the shadow eclipsing the surface of Phobos. The Enemy hung in the vacuum, unaware of pending execution.

     ((simon to strike force: engagement on my go.))

     They swept closer, unseen.

     Zero-Four locked his arms into the interface gauntlets.

     “Ready, Simon?”

     ((always.))

     It began.

     black

    
PREPARE TO BREAK MOON ORBIT.

     THE THIRD PLANET((?))

    
YES. IT IS THE RICHEST IN HUMAN RESOURCE.

     LUSCIOUS… UPLOAD.

     inquisition. suspicion. hatred.

    
THEY ARE HERE.

     THE JUDAS((?))

    
THE JUDAS.

     A CERTAINTY((?))

    
THEY ARE SHADOWED, BUT THEY ARE HERE. I CAN TASTE THE PRESENCE OF THEIR CONTAGION IN THE PATTERN. THEY SHALL PAY FOR THEIR BLASPHEMY.

     INDEED THEY SHALL.

    
DESTROY THEM.

     The Spear tore through the sky at a phenomenal rate. The tiny island of Santa Fosca appeared on the horizon, grew closer as the plane sped towards it.

     Jennings sat, watching the elite group of warriors prepare for the landing and capture of the group who had so ruthlessly killed so many Americans. They were the best, part of a detachment of soldiers who had won fame in War Three by capturing the remains of Paris. Now they would storm the island and try to take the terrorists alive, if they could. It would be a formidable task, if the terrorists were Styx.

     Jennings and the troop commander looked at the view of the island the long-range cameras presented.

     “What the hell is that?”

     Something jutted up from the island, a massive, black something. It looked like a piece of... No, that was impossible. It was still buried in the mountains.

     “Radiation level?”

     “Nothing abnormal.”

     So there had not been a thermonuclear attack.

     “There they are.”

     Seven men stood near the—thing. One was on his knees.

     “What are they doing?”

     “Watching us. Preparing.”

     “They don’t appear to be armed.”

     “They wouldn’t have to be if they’re Styx.” The soldier walked to the cabin. “Fly us in low. We’ll drop in on them from above, and the lower machine cannons can give us cover if it comes to that.”

     The sleek vessel glided closer to the island, panels on its underside sliding open to reveal heavy machine guns on pivot axes. The plane slowed.

     “They aren’t making a move. They can’t be surrendering.”

     “With all respect, sir, if I saw a fully-armed Spear coming at me, I’d surrender.”

     Below the plane, the seven men waited in silence.

     Reynald stood up, his arms outstretched.

     “Closer... Come closer.”

     The plane continued its approach.

     He closed his eyes.

     ((FIRE!!))

     The formation of Judas dove at the Enemy monstrosity orbiting the moon Phobos.

     The domain of vision was blinded by the fierce streaks of light that tore from seemingly empty space at the Enemy. The Enemy itself thrust its own hell at the black between the stars, tearing apart three Judas in a flash of fire where seconds before there was only nothingness. The Enemy was overwhelmed by the sheer firepower of the Judas fleet. Beams of light emerged from countless ports on the Enemy’s surface as it tried to fend off the Judas attack. Waves and ripples of energy flew everywhere, blinding with their wake those unfortunate enough to be ensnared in their web.

     The game of eternity had begun another round.

At the sight of one of the men on the island in an obvious stance of surrender, arms outstretched, the pilot eased the Spear to earth, all the while with the heavy machine guns trained on the group. The troops on the plane prepared to disembark and surround them.