Origins: The Reich (37 page)

In a quiet corner of the 5,000 square foot White House Situation Room, Mark sat next to Hastelloy and the Scientific Advisor.  All three watched the President speak on the phone with one world leader after another; all the while masterfully executing the old Potomac two-step.  The politician in him came out in full force as he sashayed and pirouetted around specific questions and accusations to evade ownership or responsibility for what happened.

The first call placed had been with the President of the Russian Republic.  The former Cold War adversary was understandably unnerved by the unannounced launch of a nuclear missile.  Particularly since the missile’s flight path took it over the North Pole and ran perilously close to Russian airspace.  It was a proverbial shot across the bow in the Russian president’s view, but he was pacified with the promise of an international summit to address the incident.

Next up was the Prime Minister of England and the President of France after that.  Both nations were nuclear powers and warranted a conversation, but they were also close allies and needed very little convincing that the incident was not some prelude to war.

Mark sat up in his seat a bit straighter when it was announce the President of the People’s Republic of China was on the line.  China was a nuclear power as well and deserved an explanation, but they were also on the receiving end of American bombs dropping on their most prized national treasure.  Did they know it was American planes that did the deed, or would they assume some other explanation?  The next phone conversation would reveal the answer.

“President Xi Jinping, it is an honor to speak with you today, sir,” the American President offered in greeting.  “I would like to take this opportunity to explain the situation surrounding the missile launch earlier today that mistakenly passed near Cairo, Egypt.”

“At the moment a missile that came no closer than three thousand miles from Chinese territory does not hold my interest, Mr. President.  I am concerned about a series of intermittent radar contacts our military traced from Egyptian airspace all the way to Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s mausoleum.  There, the ancient pyramid was mysteriously destroyed by a series of deep, penetrating explosions.”

The Secretary of Defense depressed the mute button on the speaker box in front of him and said to the President, “There is absolutely no way they detected our planes.  He is fishing for an admission of guilt.”

The American president took the phone off mute and proceeded to do an admirable job of feigning surprise and concern to go along with his reply.  “The Pyramid of Xi’an was destroyed today?  My God, that is a tragic and incalculable loss to our understanding of your people’s distinguished and ancient history.  I can assure you, no American aircraft or missiles flew beyond your nation’s borders today, or any time in the last several years to the best of my knowledge.  There must be some other explanation.  Tell me, could the destruction have anything to do with the scattered reports we have received about some sort of armed uprising within your borders?”

“There is no uprising or armed conflict of any kind taking place inside of China!” the excitable man on the other end of the telephone barked back through his translator.  “Your reports are mistaken; now back to the question at hand.  You lost one of your stealth bombers over Egyptian airspace earlier today.  This fact is not in dispute.  All evidence points to your radar evading aircraft altering course to execute an attack on my country.”

“With respect, that is an unfounded accusation…”

At that point, Mark tuned out the meaningless words being spoken.  Both sides knew what happened, yet neither could fess up to it.  The American’s did attack China, but for a good reason which helped the Chinese.  China would never admit there was any internal fighting within their borders, especially since their adversary was probably interpreted to be the reincarnated spirits of Emperor Qui Shi Huang and his army for violating the inner sanctity of his burial mausoleum.

When the call with China ended, Mark intended to listen in to the pending conversation with the President of Egypt, but his attention was pulled away by the Scientific Advisor answering a phone call of his own.

“My God.  Have you…have you verified the source?” the silver haired man asked.

An instant later Hastelloy heard a gentle chime emanating from his pants pocket.  He pulled out the blue communication disk Mark had seen him use before, which brought to life the virtual face of one of his men resting in his lap.  “Captain, we just received a reply to the probe’s message.”

“Is it the Novi?” Hastelloy asked.

“I believe so.  It is transmitting in our frequency and in our language using an elementary encryption scheme.  It is a curiously short reply though. It simply reads ‘Our arrival is imminent’.”

“Thank you, Tonwen,” Hastelloy said without emotion as he turned off his device.

“Your man just saved our entire scientific community days of decoding and intense efforts to try and translate your language,” the Scientific Advisor commented as he terminated his own phone conversation.

Hastelloy glanced over at the man, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back into the chair’s tall leather backrest and said, “Glad I could help.”  He followed that statement by releasing a heavy sigh that could have blown down an entire forest.

“You look concerned,” the Scientific Advisor commented.  “Shouldn’t we be the ones worrying since these are your people coming to do God knows what, if anything, to our planet and its inhabitants?”

“He’s right,” Mark added.  “This news should place you in a state of complete Nirvana.  Your impossibly complex and exotic plan that was some four-thousand years in the making, laden with pitfalls at every turn, has gotten you almost exactly where you intended to be.”

Hastelloy opened his eyes and rotated his head to look at Mark with genuine concern.  “I’ve spent over a third of my existence, the last 4,600 years, not only living among you, but existing as one of you.  All of my men have.”

“Much has changed for us during that time as I’m sure is the case for my people.  I have no idea what the perceived loss of twenty million lives in battle with the Alpha may have done to the Novi.  My greatest fear, since we arrived on this planet, has been that the Novi who finally do ‘rescue us’ will be as alien to me as they are to you.”

T
HE END

Help me out:

I sincerely hope you enjoyed the fourth volume in the story of Hastelloy and his crew.  I would greatly appreciate your feedback with an honest review on Amazon.com.

First and foremost, I’m always looking to grow and improve as a writer.  It is reassuring to hear what works, as well as receive constructive feedback on what should improve.  Second, starting out as an unknown author is exceedingly difficult, and Amazon reviews go a long way toward making the journey out of anonymity possible.  Please take a few minutes to write an honest review.

Best regards,

Mark Henrikson

BE SURE NOT TO MISS THESE OTHER

EXCITING TITLES IN THE

ORIGINS SERIES

              Book 1: 
Origins

              Book 2: 
Centurion’s Rise

              Book 3: 
Reformation

              Book 4: 
The Reich

              Book 5: 
A Greater Good

It had been
nearly five thousand years since Hastelloy last stood inside the Hall of Justice on Novus.  He remembered feeling an overwhelming sense of awe at the building’s grandeur back then.  Its size, its hand crafted stone walls, the rich hardwood floors and furniture all melded together to demand respect of past traditions.  As Hastelloy stood there alone inside a windowless interior room, he realized the years had done much to diminish that awestruck feeling.

The stone and mortar walls now stood covered with a seamless off-white plastic polymer resin.  The floor featured the same material in an alternating black and white checker pattern.  Even the table and four chairs situated in the center of the small room were composed of the solid plastic material in a light grey huge. 

This was the building material of choice these days due to its ease of use and versatility.  The surface color could be changed with a simple touch of a button to suit individual tastes.  Any damage to the surface from scratching, chipping, or even fire was easily remolded and repaired.  It was clean, efficient, but sterile and devoid of any character or history.

The feature he now found least impressive of all was the ceiling; hovering just eleven feet overhead.  All those years ago, it seemed so high overhead that it may as well have been nestled among the stars; unreachable.  Today, just to prove the point to himself, Hastelloy crouched low his six-foot three frame, leaped into the air, and managed to scrape the ceiling with two fingers on his left hand. 

His landing was accompanied by a soft, patronizing clap from an individual standing behind him.  Hastelloy turned on his heels to find a three foot tall being with pale skin and an oversized head standing in the room’s lone doorway, “That body of yours may not be much to look at, but it certainly grants you impressive athleticism.”

“So glad you approve, Chancellor,” Hastelloy responded in a flat tone.

“I don’t,” came a sharp rebuke.  The two held their contemptuous stares until the Chancellor finally rotated his hairless white head to the side and issued an order to a set of guards stationed outside the door.  “Restrain the prisoner so we can speak in private.”

The Chancellor’s rounded-off triangular shaped face turned towards Hastelloy once more and watched with his large, midnight black eyes as two guards moved into the room to execute his order.  Even with a third guard leveling a wave blaster at Hastelloy from the doorway, the room practically reeked of fear as the two approached Hastelloy standing more than twice their height and girth. 

Without resistance, Hastelloy allowed himself to be seated in a chair.  Once situated, the guards placed his hands into a set of restraints that grew out of the tabletop as the plastic surface reformed itself around his wrists.

Hastelloy focused on his restraints for a moment, then looked up at the Chancellor again. “Isn’t visiting prisoners before trial a little below your pay grade?  The undisputed leader of the known galaxy certainly has better uses of his time.  You should be ushering the Republic through some noble effort to expand its sphere of influence, or drive fear into the hearts of her enemies?”

“That will be all, thank you,” the Chancellor said to the guards exiting the room and closed the door behind them.  He then let a smug smirk of superiority overtake his thin lips as he looked upon Hastelloy once more. “In case you haven’t heard, I brought about an end to the Alpha war four thousand years ago.  The only enemy now left for me to defeat is you, the man who issued an illegal order that led to my son’s ship being destroyed without a Nexus device nearby.”

“I see my demotion from admiral to captain and the passage of time have done nothing to diminish your anger.  You view me as the sole reason for your son’s death, which is fine by me, but know this.  It was war.  I made a command decision that served a greater good for our people.  I make no apologies for performing my duty,” Hastelloy concluded.

“It wasn’t only you, there were two factors that caused my son’s death.  First, there was the Alpha who provoked the war, and then there was, of course, you.  I put an end to the Alpha long ago, and now I finally have the chance to put an end to you as well.”

“I don’t mind admitting to you,” the Chancellor went on, “when I first heard about that message of yours originating from some unknown, backwater rim system, I wept.  I wept for joy that so many Novi soldiers were still alive, but I also lamented the fact that I’d never have the chance to finish you off.  How could I possibly assail the hero who returned nearly all the life forces from the Lost Fleet to our people?  You were destined to be sacrosanct for all eternity; idolized by billions, until suddenly you weren’t.  You lost your mind over these last few weeks, and now I
revel
in it.”

Hastelloy’s eyes widened with the clarity of thought he reached in that moment.  “So the attack you ordered on Earth wasn’t just about neutralizing a culturally contaminated civilization in a’ noble’ effort to avoid another disaster like first contact with the Alpha.  It was about me.  You knew I would act against the Republic to defend Earth and give you an opening to come after me.”

The Chancellor’s omnipresent smirk grew all the brighter with Hastelloy’s acknowledgement of his scheme; the man took great pride in its genius.  “I spent weeks researching these humans of which you are so fond.  Considering you were involved in nearly every aspect of their formative years; their history is your history.”

“Learning the ways of your enemy I suppose,” Hastelloy mocked.  “Tell me then, based on all your careful study of the humans and their ways, did you discover a weakness of mine?”

“You’re here facing trial aren’t you?” the Chancellor replied with great cheer.  “Now that you mention it, I did come across one particular turn of phrase by a human play write that I find particularly relevant at the moment.  To paraphrase, ‘Tickle us do we not laugh, prick us do we not bleed, wrong us shall we not revenge’.”

“
The Merchant of Venice
, Act three, scene one; more or less,” Hastelloy acknowledged.  “Ironic that you’d use the words I wrote as William Shakespeare five hundred years ago against me now.”

The Chancellor stood silent for a moment shaking his head in disbelief, and finally let out a soft chuckle.  “I might have guessed.  I’m not one to compliment often, but you definitely missed your calling by choosing the life of a military man rather than an artist.  Such a pity for all concerned, especially my son.”

“It was a fun respite after thousands of years spent defending Earth and the Nexus from the Alpha, but nothing I’d do again,” Hastelloy responded.  “Too many critics rendering judgment as if they could do any better themselves.”

“Defending Earth,” the Chancellor repeated with a huff of disgust.  “There is not a shred of Novi blood left in those veins of yours now is there?  Look at you,” the Chancellor said while gesturing towards Hastelloy’s large frame, “you’re one of them.  You’re an alien to us all, and nothing more.”

“A fact the Republic’s advocate will no doubt touch upon during my trial.  Little wonder I wasn’t granted the right to return to a Novi body like the rest of my crew when we reached Novus; makes for a better show.”

The Chancellor was about to respond, but had his words cut off by a gentle knock at the door followed by a guard poking his large head into the room.  “The magistrate is ready.”

“Let the show begin,” Hastelloy sighed as the guards removed his hands from the table restraints.