Homecoming, p.18
Homecoming, page 18
‘Yeah. We’re behind you all the way.’
‘This is where we bide our time.’
‘Roger that, leader.’
Jankowski signed off and continued to peruse the database. He found his credentials only allowed him to access chat feeds and upcoming mission. He could not add input for strategy or take control of any equipment.
“Guess they learned their lesson from my little stint before.” He laughed.
The next mission due in three months was on hold until the other leaders arrived. He smiled at the timeline. It was perfect. The moment those saps landed, he would show them what the New Order could accomplish with might. First things first. He had to get the commander to loosen the reins a bit.
Relliant soldiers recovered from their ordeal were now helping with the reconfiguration of their ship into a permanent structure on Earth. It would act as a welcome center attached to the new planetary transport hub being built around it. Gragor walked into the atrium and tried not to appear in awe of its magnificence. The architects needed praise. Bright translucent blue swirls were accented in deep red with black signifying the Relliant race’s eyes and their home worlds primary color. Each space dock would have their own aesthetic. He was glad to see the displaced soldiers would keep some of their identity.
The former commander came down the twenty feet wide staircase that glowed a pale blue. He wore a black robe with red trim over a sleek black bodysuit. Red, knee high boots finished the look. Gragor almost let out a laugh. He stopped himself and cleared his throat.
“Commander Anbo you look relaxed these days.”
“No battles mean rest and pleasure.” The two stood a few feet apart. “Of course, you have not realized that concept.”
“This is me relaxed,” Gragor protested.
“What brings you here?” Anbo’s tone was serious.
“Those ships are going to start sending down the population. Are you prepared for that?”
“You mean, the humans being greeted by a Relliant or the mass amounts of people about to come through?”
“Both. I’m worried we have overwhelmed you with such a large task.”
“Hmph!” Anbo smirked. “You must be joking.”
“Fine. Once the other three are functional you will have communication links to each other. Regis feels we don’t need security protocols yet since there are no hostiles in the solar system.”
“Yet.”
Gragor stared at him. “What do you mean?” He couldn’t make out Anbo’s expression.
“I give this planet about twenty to fifty years before another race comes cruising by.”
“Until then,” Gragor started to walk towards the stairs. “How about a tour?”
Anbo let out a laugh and turned around to stand by Gragor’s side.
“With pleasure.” He gestured to the staircase. “After you.”
They walked up together as the commander began his welcome spiel.
The tour went for nearly two hours and Gragor was mentally exhausted as he left the hub. He decided to touch base with Regis and see if there was a shorter version in the works. His transport ship sat waiting with Brody at the helm. That brooding face never wavered. He climbed into the open hatch and strapped himself in.
“Ready whenever you are, pilot.”
Brody glanced back at him, making sure everything was secure. His attention went back to the control panel and he hit the engine icon to start.
“Where to?”
“Facility Three.”
The hatch sealed shut and the ship lifted off the ground. When it reached altitude, the thrusters were engaged, and it shot out in the horizon. Less than two hours later Gragor could see the sprawling white structures of Facility Three come into view. A third the size of Metropolis it was still nothing to sneeze at. Some of the smaller facilities had combined with it and were being converted into the second planetary transport hub that everyone decided to dub as space stations. A landing dock sector was already operational, and Brody went in for approach.
“Earth Space Station Two this is Red Knight requesting permission to dock. Carrying diplomat Commander Gragor of the Relliance for Professor Bartley.”
Gragor snorted at the call sign. Bree had created it as a joke.
“Red Knight, you are cleared to land in hangar five. Assigned soldiers will escort the Commander.”
“Thank you.”
Brody cut the thrusters and maneuvered the ship towards the specified hangar. As it got closer to the landing platform, docking arms grabbed hold of its underbelly and brought it down safely. The clamps locked it down. Brody cut the engine and undid his straps.
“All you, commander.”
The hatch opened to reveal two armed men waiting for Gragor. He released his straps and exited the ship. Brody glanced at the men and smirked.
“Welcome to Facility Three, Commander Gragor,” the first one greeted him.
“Please, this way,” said the other.
Gragor was taken aback by the overly polite words. He felt like they were too stiff; afraid of something. As requested, he followed the men down the ramp and into a lift. They only went down three levels then exited into a white hallway that seemed to never end. Gragor forced himself not to check his wristband to see how long they had been walking. Finally, a door appeared on their right and the two men stopped.
“Here you are.”
The moment the automatic doors slid open, the two were gone down the hall. Gragor raised his eyebrows at their disappearing forms. He stepped into a white room with a large white table in the center. At the far end sat Professor Bartley, barefoot wearing loose, drawstring pants, a white t-shirt and an open pastel blue button down. His hair was in disarray and he held a stainless-steel coffee mug with steam wisping from it.
“Everyone seems to be in a relaxed state these days.” Gragor walked towards the table and sat four seats from him. “Is no one concerned about the coming trials ahead?”
Bartley took a sip from his mug then set it down before him. He brought his feet onto the edge of his chair so that his chin rested on his knees.
“I am more concerned than you know. As a hybrid, my trust in humankind is practically nil.”
“Not all humans are a lost cause. I find your sense of pessimism sad.”
“You’ve come to make sure all is ready to go.”
“I have been tasked with it, yes. So,” Gragor raised an open palm to him.
“Everything is going according to plan.”
“The New Order?”
“On a short leash for now. So far nothing disturbing is coming out of their base.” Bartley took another sip from his mug. “Except for that one thing.”
“What thing?” Gragor leaned forward, his body tensing up. Bartley didn’t answer. “Professor!”
Bartley set his mug back down and stared at him.
“Jankowski seems to be helping out in the hangars with repairs and small tasks.”
Gragor frowned. He became confused.
“That’s all?” He probed Bartley’s face for something else. “And?”
“That’s all.”
“What’s so bad about that?”
Professor Bartley cupped his mug in both hands and raised it to his lips. He softy blew across the top, sending steam to billow out. His eyes grew bright then turned a rusty shade of red.
“I don’t know yet,” Bartley replied.
Fear. Danger.
It coursed through Gragor’s whole body as his gaze locked on Bartley. He realized that was why the escorts went scurrying like rats in hell. He had never been afraid of anything in all his life. Until now, at this very moment with a creature he had no idea what to expect of. Bartley’s eyes reverted to normal and he took a tentative sip.
“My subordinates can give you a tour of our hub. I’m not really up to it today.”
“Sure.” Gragor slowly got up from his seat. “That’s fine.” He turned to the door and slammed a hand to his chest, startled by the two escorts back at the entrance. “Holy shit! You scared me.”
“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything, Commander.”
Bartley’s voice echoing his thoughts was more than enough. Gragor hurried to the door and the escorts fell in place.
“Good to see you, Professor. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”
He didn’t wait for him to answer because he knew there wouldn’t be one. The escorts hauled ass down the hall with Gragor close behind. They all wanted to get as far away from that room the quicker the better.
Empty Containers
The designated leaders from each ark cluster region ascended on the new planetary hub for a meeting to coordinate repopulation strategies. Each represented their now defunct countries. Regis stood at the entrance with Takayama and George as delegates for America. She pondered if they should name the new territory something else. What did being an American mean anymore? Or any of the other countries for that matter.
Convoy ships docked in succession to unload their passengers. Some looked around in awe as they set foot for the first time on new Earth while others tried to hide their resentment. They came spilling through the siding doors as a horde and huddled together a few hundred feet from Regis. She stepped forward to address them.
“Welcome home. I’m sure you’re all anxious to explore. First, let’s get our people back where they belong.” She raised an arm and gestured behind her. “Please follow me to the conference area.”
None of them moved for a moment then slowly they began to do as requested, heading up the staircase. George lagged behind to take position at the rear of the group. Takayama glanced back at him with a knowing look. Tensions were already high. A breakdown of communication was inevitable. As the group reached the landing, workers in the corridor gave them a wide berth. At the end of the hall was the conference room.
The doors slid open to reveal a white room with seating set up in an arena style reminiscent of the world summit meetings. Mini translator discs were placed at each section. There were no signs with country names. The leaders walked around confused as where to sit and finally decided on placement. Regis felt it was better this way. George stayed near the doors. Takayama went to where the leader of the Japan Arks was seated.
Regis stepped up to the podium in the center and waited for everyone to be seated. The architects came in from the side doors followed by their assistants. Frowns formed on some of the leaders faces. She knew what they were thinking because she felt the same.
God damn Americans! Why do they always get their fingers in first?
Regis smirked. It was how it’s always been. In her opinion, if they were so upset, they should have stepped up long ago. Most of the old regimes had died out along with their leaders. The faces she recognized were farther down their chain of command and became next in succession while the others were new to the fold. She pitied them both.
Quelly Riggs sat on the platform along with the architects. She could feel the tension in the room and knew where it stemmed from. She had encountered the same feeling as the inhabitants of her ark ship looked down on New Earth. The question was how to determine which people went where. The holoscreen above lit up and the new world map was displayed. She heard the sharp intakes of breath followed by course mutterings. That angered her. She grabbed the arms of her chair, ready to stand.
“You ungrateful sons of bitches!”
The words spewed out with venom at such volume coming out of the PA system that it stopped her and everyone else in their tracks. She turned to where it came from and saw one of the architects, Zach, standing at the podium, his hands turning dark red as they gripped its edge. Silence fell in the room.
“Sitting there moaning and groaning because your homes are no longer! We could have had no planet at all to come back to!” His eyes were so wide they looked about to bulge out of their sockets.
“Zach, please,” Stan said softly, reaching for his arm. “Calm down.”
“I will not!” Zach gently pushed his hand away and resumed his grip, though not as hard. He turned his attention back to the attendees. “We are one race. I don’t care if you’re Human, hybrid, alien born and raised here. Whatever. Earth is our home. Now, suck it up and act like you all got some goddamn sense! You’re supposed to be leaders!”
He stepped away from the podium and sat back down next to Stan. Quelly slid her hands off the arms of her chair and placed them in her lap. Regis stared at the three of them, amused by the outburst. Then she let out a laugh that echoed through the dome. People shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The laugh subsided as she went to the podium, wiping her eyes, and cleared her throat.
“Now that we got that out of the way.” She cleared her throat again. “I agree.” Her menacing stare touched every person in the room. “I will not tolerate such petty and pessimistic thinking.” She pointed to the map. “We are here to get our butts back on the planet so the Karysilans can go home too. Are we clear?” She waited for the grumbling of yeses to stop. “Good. Let’s begin.”
The first round of transports were on their way to the surface. With each ark, the artifacts of the cultures on board had to be brought down in stages. Statues, books, plant life, and other historical items did not have a place yet. Even though some leaders insisted on transporting them, they quickly realized their mistake once on land. No infrastructure had been built in the smaller regions since the people would be the ones to decide.
“What now?” The leader of the Japan arks asked.
She stood in a field of tall white grass as far as the eye could see, one hand shading her face from the sun. The fabric of her traditional Sakura flower print kimono she opted to wear over her bodysuit as a ceremonial tribute billowed around her legs. To her left were architect machines ready for use along with building supplies. Behind her sat four transport ships emptying out with thousands of people formerly known as Asians.
The ground crunched from footsteps approaching her. She turned to see General Takayama coming. He no longer wore his military uniform, a remnant of the past regime, appearing more relaxed in similar attire wearing a yukata over his bodysuit as well.
“Well,” Takayama began. “We could continue our beliefs and set up our region like it was before.”
“Or try to embrace a new doctrine based slightly on the old,” she added. “One thing is certain. We have to cultivate rice.”
“Oh, yes,” Takayama agreed. “We will never give up on the God of Starches.”
The people spread out to explore. Takayama stood with his arms loose at his sides. He stared at the sun, remembering how it used to be. Asia was considered the empire of the sun. He wondered what his people would be known for in this new era.
Green liquor was poured masterly from a shaker above the short glass with an ice ball resting at its center. When the pour was complete the glass was half full. The bartender, in his white shirt with black bowtie and vest, set down the shaker and garnished the drink with a toothpick speared olive. Hoskins pulled the drink closer to him and tapped the rim with a finger.
He took stock of the dark mahogany of the bar and the mirrored shelves that housed bottles of top ranked spirits. A real luxury reminiscent of the old days. The smell of wood varnish and spilled liquor made him feel nostalgic. He was so glad it hadn’t all been automated with some simulator thing like in those science fiction shows.
Gragor slid in the seat next to him and signaled the bartender. His bodysuit made a grating sound over the microfiber seat cushion.
“Vodka, no ice, with a lime,” he ordered.
Hoskins snorted. “Light weight.” He took a sip of his drink.
“Think so?” Gragor turned to him. “I was a rock god. I’d drink you under the table times three.”
“What, some beers and a couple of shots? Hmph!” He raised his glass. “I’m talking real liquor.”
The bartender finished Gragor’s drink and went to another customer at the other end of the bar.
“You just don’t quit, do you?”
“What’s that?”
“Antagonizing everyone around you. That show is getting old. We all know how you really feel.”
Hoskins set his glass down. He stared off in the distance.
“Americans touted about having pride when in reality, they didn’t have any. Bunch of sheep. Now here we are, the human race, survived from the brinks and still ain’t getting it.”
“Compared to other civilizations I have encountered; you all need more time to figure it out.”
“We ain’t got time. There’s no such thing as nationality anymore. Those are all gone.”
“I hear you.” Gragor took a sip of his own drink. “That’s refreshing.”
“Want some water to back that up? Same thing,” Hoskins retorted.
Gragor shook his head and rolled his eyes before taking another swig.
“I wanted to run something by you.”
“Oh yeah?” Hoskins’ brow raised.
“I had a meeting with Bartley and he said something strange.”
“That’s normal. That man, or whatever he is, ain’t right.”
“Okay, given. But, I mentioned Jankowski was reported to be working on the docks at the New Order station...”
“Hold on!” Hoskins raised a hand to stop him. “Say what now?”
“Why are you upset? Bartley had a similar reaction.”
“That don’t bode well for nobody.”
“Okay,” Gragor replied slowly, confused.
“I wouldn’t trust that walking slop farther than I could throw his sorry ass. Nope,” Hoskins took a drink. “He’s up to something.”
“Great. That’s all we need. Why can’t he just see the writing on the wall and fall in line?”
“Same reason I didn’t.”
“And why was that?”
“Because I was a fuckhead and thought I was right.”
Gragor nearly spit out his drink. He looked over at Hoskins calmly sipping his green concoction. Then it struck him. It takes one to know one. Hoskins may be a lot of things. A liar wasn’t one of them. His biggest flaw was his honesty.
Sparks flew as the rotary saw cut through the metal tubing clamped to the work bench for stability. Its jarring screeches were mixed in with the other works going on in the docking bay of the New Order station. Workers moved about yelling at each while transporting parts. The two-seater rovers carrying section leaders headed towards their teams zig zagged through the traffic jam. Giant black cables lay across the floor and everyone had to step over them as they maneuvered the area.
