From the Ashes Page 2

  In contrast to the Wild West style of the Geno Outlands, the Progerian settlement was as regimented as I imagine Sparta had been. They wanted nothing to do with man or especially Genos. They also knew help was coming and they could not wait for the salvation, retribution, and revenge it would bring. We monitored them as best we could; we’d recently got a few satellites back up into orbit using the troop transports as couriers. And we’d sent flybys as needed. The last envoy of humans and Genos we’d sent had been treated with contempt and nearly open hostility. The Progs had settled on the very tip of Florida and my hope was a giant fucking tsunami would take them out. I wonder what the alligators down there thought of them. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if the Progs started rounding them up and tried training them to serve them. That, I would pay to see.

  I’d had many discussions with military leaders around the world and the consensus was really to go in and just destroy them. Trust me, I was onboard with that. I just couldn’t see myself pulling the trigger, though, literally and figuratively. The Progs were combative assholes but they had surrendered, sure with the ultimate hope they’d be rescued and returned to the fight. But the fact remained, they had surrendered and to just go in and obliterate them didn’t sit well. I’d fought vigorously against killing them, so much so that my best friend and Earth Coalition leader, Paul Ginson, and I had nearly come to blows. He could not for the life of him understand my desire to defend them, and really neither could I. I was convinced this was going to go one of two ways: either I was going to be hailed as a genius when for some unforeseen reason the Progerians helped us to an ultimate victory or deemed as a traitor for all-time and to all of mankind when the Progerians defeated us. That was a razor’s edge I did not like balancing on.

  Paul and I had since breached our gulf, but I did not think for a second that he would hesitate to destroy the Progerians if I ever let my guard down. Trust me, there were times that seemed the much easier path. Then you start throwing in all those inspirational poster quotes: “The road less traveled...”, “The easier path is not always the right path...”, “An alien in the hand is worth two...”, yada yada yada, you get the point. When it came down to Paul and me, sometimes I didn’t think it was really the aliens’ situation that was our main problem.

  Beth and Paul had married shortly after the aliens had fallen. I don’t know what was weirder, that Beth had supposedly gotten over me so fast and married my best friend, or that I’d had to stand up at the wedding as Paul’s best man. That had been uncomfortable as hell. As for the bigger slight, Tracy had been put at a table, as far removed from the wedding party table, as was possible, and still have her at the ceremony. That was a no-brainer on my part as I’d spent the majority of the evening in the cheap seats with her. Beth had cornered me into a dance and had smiled happily the whole time. I could feel laser burns contacting my body from Tracy and Paul’s stares alike.

  “This should be our wedding,” Beth had said as we’d twirled about the dance floor.

  “Are you insane? You just got married to my best friend,” I’d said with no small amount of shock.

  “And why do you think it is that I married Paul?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you love him?”

  She’d outright laughed at that. I knew Beth could be manipulative, narcissistic and definitely egotistical but only up to a point—certainly not the levels she was displaying now. We never really sat down and talked about what she’d gone through while she was out on the road and Deb had died. Whatever it was, had amplified some of Beth’s lesser qualities. Sometimes I caught glimpses of the girl I’d fallen in love with, like when she rescued a bunch of kids from some catacombs out by the Quabbin reservoir. She’d said they had saved her and she needed to do the same. Although, in reality, the little buggers seemed to be doing pretty good for themselves, especially Max, the kid who had become their leader after some kid named Sammie had died driving Beth to Worcester.

  Mostly, she was becoming this new creature that I was convinced was going to sprout horns at any moment. That she was going to hurt Paul was without question, and I hated her for that. If I thought for the minutest of moments that he would listen to me, then I would have said something. As it was, I had to make sure that she in no way harmed my family and with everything else that was going on it was a distraction I was not overly thrilled about having. What’s the worst one woman could do? And then, the name Helen of Troy just kept popping up in my head. Beth had the ear of arguably one of the most powerful men on the planet. Paul had been thrust to the forefront when he had come out of the super fortress known as The Hill with its thirty-five-hundred or so inhabitants.

  The planet’s military forces had been nearly destroyed; the Pentagon was a memory as were all other HQs around the globe. Air forces and tank battalions were a thing of the past and the ground troops had suffered a serious beating as well. What little of men in uniform that had survived, were leaderless and more concerned with preserving their own lives as opposed to leading a rebellion. Paul had stood atop the smoking ashes victorious and the world had rallied behind him.

  I don’t begrudge him that at all. I had done what I did in the battle arenas mostly for selfish reasons, primarily to save my life and the lives of those around me. I did not want to go through the pain of losing any of them. Paul had created, recruited, trained, and built the only viable force against the aliens on the planet. And he’d done it for the noble cause of preserving our species. There had been a little friction in the beginning when some around us had advocated me becoming the Commander in Chief. I had steered that ship as far away from that course as was possible. I wanted nothing to do with the political bullshit that was sure to ensue. Paul had graciously accepted. The funny part was that those few who had thought I’d be a better leader were now gone. Nothing as nefarious as say murder, but a few were now in charge of remote posts that were as tactically necessary as Hawaii during the American Revolution. I didn’t have proof, but my money was on Beth being responsible for those assignments. Paul just wasn’t that petty.

  Early on we had hoped that transmissions from the Julipion had never reached their home world Aradinia. Our hopes were crushed when we picked up their call. They’d dispatched three ships of battle, the names nearly unpronounceable and mattered little anyway. We changed them to Moe, Larry and Curly. The change did little to ease our hearts about the threat they posed. We had a couple of pluses in our corner—the Battleships they were sending were smaller than the Guardian and we had the element of surprise. That was about it. Pathetically short list but, at least, we had something. According to Iserwan, the battleships were more maneuverable, better armored, and had much bigger weaponry. The odds were not in our favor.

  Luckily, they generally did not carry troops for land based operations, as the mop up duty would be assigned to the scout ship once the battleships crushed any sort of resistance. When we began to formulate our defense plans we had thought about creating another Scout. But the sheer size of the task, coupled with limited resources, made attempting this ridiculous in the time given. Industry on Earth had come to a standstill during the invasion and it had taken more than a year to get up and running. We now had the ability, and the capacity, to churn out some fighters, thanks to our new allies. It had taken two years, three months and six days to roll out that first alien fighter. The controls had been scaled down to fit a man but everything had been kept the same after reverse engineering. However, some did have cockpits fit for the bigger Genos. None of the Progerian pilots who worked with us would fly again or so they told us.

  We’d almost been stopped in our tracks from the onset when the engineers removed the starting mechanisms from the fighters. The Progerians had created them as a failsafe so that only one of them could power up the machine. This had been due to an earlier Geno uprising when some enterprising rebels had stolen some fighters and turned them against their masters. Thus far no one could figure out how the system was integrated, but it
was somehow such an integral part of the entire design that even the newly produced ships could not be flown without it, there was no work around and we didn’t have the time to try and figure it out.

  It was a lab-tech that had found the key. He had remembered that the Supreme Commander (the one I kidnapped) had some strange genetic markers in his blood. I’m not going to go into detail, mainly because it will highlight my ignorance, but I’d been told that the Progs had a strange enzyme that they secreted through their palms. So when they placed their hand on the starter the machine would fire up. It was this enzyme that we synthesized and had Geno and human pilots alike use. Some had argued we should just cut off the Progs hands and place one in each fighter. The Progs had lucked out when it was determined that only a live host could make the marker.

  Chapter Two - Genogerian encampment – Outlands, U.S.

  “I hate this place!” Junguar shouted. He was in the minority, but it was a growing sentiment among the younger Genogerians.

  “We are free,” his friend Xackrid replied.

  “Free? Free to do what? Watch as the sun travels across the sky? Free to watch as birds circle our heads? Tell me, Xackrid, what are we free to do? We do not work, we do not fight, and we cannot go anywhere. Tell me what it is that we are free to do?”

  “We are no longer under the rule of the Progerians, Junguar.”

  “We fight, Xackrid, we kill things. We have traveled the galaxies.”

  “Join the hu-man forces if you are desirous to fight.”

  “Pah!” Junguar spat.

  The rebellion aboard the Julipion had heated the Genogerian blood to the boiling point. The Geno leaders had been able to convince their species to fight, but now that the heat of battle had cooled, many of the Genogerians had lost their taste for it against their former masters. Their masters, however, had not forgotten.

  ***

  “Are you sure about this Tom?”

  “I told you, Lemmie, the aliens promised us gold and safety.”

  “For what Tom? Just to drop this truck off in the center of the Geno city? It doesn’t make any sense. We make the same supply run every month. Why is this one different?”

  “Them ugly things said they put a surprise in here for them other ugly ones. What do I care what it is if it gets us off this run. Do you like being around those things? I’m always afraid they’re going to forget their manners and eat us.”

  “And they said we can’t check the cargo?”

  “They forbade it. Now normally I wouldn’t listen to them but they gave me this as a down payment if I promised.” Lemmie held up a small gold bar.

  Tom ogled the brilliant metal. “Who am I to argue?” He laughed.

  A package roughly the size of a Volkswagen thrummed in the back of the truck.

  Chapter Three – Mike Journal Entry 02

  “Mike, you just got home a few days ago. It would be nice if you could stay and maybe help raise your offspring,” Tracy said. She wasn’t mad, but she certainly wasn’t happy.

  I was sitting on the couch and I had Travis up in the air. He seemed somewhat bored at the height I had achieved. What kind of hope did I have against Dee’s outstretched arms? The kid was nearly in orbit when Dee did it.

  “Tracy, it’s only for two days. It’s just a chance to show off all the new fighters docking on the ship. Paul thinks it’s an important photo opportunity.”

  “He certainly likes to have his picture taken doesn’t he?”

  I shrugged and put Travis down. He had made a ‘pffft’ sound and dribbled spittle all over my forehead. “You think that’s funny?” I asked him as I tickled his belly. He was squealing in delight from my ministrations. “Honey, you know what’s going on. People want to believe everything is all right, that there isn’t still a war imminent. The Genogerians are grousing and the Progerians just keep stirring up the shit. We need to keep this in the forefront and if it’s just a matter of my wonderful mug getting snapped again then it’s worth it. You know you can come, right?”

  “And bring Travis?”

  “Of course.”

  We’d had this talk before; it wasn’t going to go anywhere. Before Travis was born Tracy was the penultimate warrior, first in last out. After having Travis, her protective gauge had ratcheted to maximum. She was becoming one of those that chose to believe the worst was over. She couldn’t imagine a warring world for her child.

  “He doesn’t like to fly, hurts his ears.”

  Travis must have known I was leaving the next day. We played hard up until his bedtime and then he slept throughout the entire night, affording Tracy and me some alone time. I was surprised the following morning when I awoke and Tracy was already out of bed and sitting in the dining room staring at her steaming mug of tea.

  “Everything alright?” I asked as I walked over and kissed the top of her head. She reached over her shoulder and grabbed my hand.

  “Bad dream. I don’t think you should go.” She turned to look at me.

  Even in the dim light it was easy enough to see the look of concern in her eyes. A light knock on the door pulled my gaze away. “That’s...that’s my ride. I’ll be back on Friday.” I leaned down and kissed her. “It’ll be alright.” She turned back around.

  “Lieutenant Braverly? Since when did you get on shuttle duty?” I asked after answering the door. The Lieutenant was one of Paul’s top handpicked men. He was of Australian descent, which in itself was unremarkable. It was his damn eyes—they were as flat and emotionless as a reptile’s. His loyalty to Paul was without question; it was just the cold and calculating way he went about his business that made one stop and think.

  “General Ginson wanted me to personally look out for your safety, sir.”

  Dee was exiting his house and coming across the lawn. It was such a strange dichotomy watching such a foreign being leaving such an ordinary dwelling. I wasn’t sure if I was ever not going to chuckle when I witnessed it.

  Pointing at Dee heading our way I said, “If that big guy couldn’t keep me safe then I’m not sure anything or anybody could.”

  “As you say, sir,” Braverly said as he sized up Dee. I knew he was thinking I was wrong, but I just kind of wanted to see if he would say anything.

  “Hello, Michael,” Dee said. “I would have been ready sooner but I was having trouble with my hair.”

  I snorted. Braverly was not amused.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, sweeping his arm towards our ride, which happened to be a large truck flanked by two Hummers stuffed full of armed personnel.

  “How concerned is the General?” I asked when we started to roll.

  Braverly did not respond.

  “How are Travis and your mate?” Dee asked.

  “He was hoping to see you last night.”

  “It was my evening of prayer.”

  “I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do you think at any point you will stop referring to Tracy as my mate or some other variant?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “But that is who she is.”

  “Fair enough.” I dropped it. It was only another ten minutes or so before we got to the official airfield. In reality the transport could have landed in the empty lot across from my house and picked us up but Paul was never one to let an opportunity slide. Press from around the globe was on the tarmac.

  “Fuck.” I stepped out of the truck. Beth was smiling and waving to the cameras.

  “Former love interest that walked with bears is here,” Dee said as he looked upon the same scene I did.

  “When you address her could you maybe not use the “former love interest” part?”

  “Is it not the truth?” He was looking at me.

  “Regrettably yes, but we don’t need the constant reminder anymore.”

  “She still has feelings for you. However, I am not sure if I could classify it as what you humans call love.”

  That was another of Dee’s fantastical qualities. He was able to tell almost anything about a person merely by
the scents they gave off. He damn near got me kicked out of the house one week, the previous year, when he had come in and declared me frustrated. He then asked if it had something to do with the menstrual cycle that my mate was going through—right while Tracy was sitting next to me at the dinner table. Yeah…that went over real well in the Talbot household. Thought I was going to end up with a fork in my thigh.

  “Yeah, I think you’re smelling revenge.”

  “You need to be careful around her.”

  “I didn’t need your nose to tell me that.” We were walking up to the podium and I had a large smile plastered across my face for the cameras. It slipped somewhat when Dee spoke again.

  “You must also be wary of the General.”

  “Of Paul? Why? It can’t be because of Beth, I’m more than happily married.”

  “Part of it is the jealousy he feels towards you for having been with her first. That is another strange trait of you humans—Genogerians rarely mate for life. And to be angry that a partner has lain with another makes no sense. Procreation is the main reason living beings exist at all. Spreading seed and eggs ensures the prosperity of any species.”

  “Yeah buddy, let’s not get down to the nuts and bolts of this okay?”

  Dee reached out and stopped my forward progress. “I said partly, Michael,” he stated as he spun me around to face him. “He is dizzy with his newfound power and has a great dislike toward anything or anyone that could threaten it.”

  “I’m that threat?”

  Dee nodded.

  “I’ve told him before I don’t want anything to do with running the planet.”

  “There will always be those who think what you have done was of greater importance than what he has done, and that is something he fears. It radiates off of him every time you two are near.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I know.”

  “And what do you propose I do about it?”