The Reaper Plague, Page 2

  Whatever. She got up and mentally put the mantle of the Marine back on, stalking haughtily out, ignoring her two escorts, a lioness attended by sheepdogs. From what I hear, they’ll get theirs soon enough.

  -3-

  Brigadier Nguyen sat down at the round table before his colleagues. As the most junior member – in seniority, not in age – he made sure he was not the last one in. That honor was reserved for Ariadne Smythe, first among equals of the Committee, the shadow power within the Australian Free Community.

  In truth, Nguyen reflected, it was a strangely functional Jekyll-Hyde relationship between the two halves of the power structure.

  Well-behaved, normal Edens carried out the ordinary and overt functions of government – legislation, law enforcement, collecting taxes, keeping records, organizing, training and equipping the military forces – everything except those things that by biology they could no longer do.

  The Committee and its apparatus, composed of Eden Plague-infected narcissists, ‘Psychos’ to the layman, encompassed the black arts, the lethal activities that were so useful – as long as they were tightly controlled. Each of the nine members was powerful, and each was selfish and jealous and careful, looking far into the future. The Plague, even for Psychos, had extended their view, changing the definition of ‘short-term’ from months to years or even decades. Lengthened lifespans naturally made people conservative.

  Smythe finally arrived, just late enough to emphasize her status while not so late as to cause offense. It was an old dance with new, rejuvenated faces.

  “This meeting of the Committee is called to order. Welcome to our newest member, Brigadier Nguyen Pham Tran. I hear his comrades call him ‘Spooky’.” Chuckles rattled off the walls, died at Nguyen’s face. “I’m sure everyone’s spies have thoroughly researched the Brigadier’s background so I won’t waste any further time with biography. Mister Johns, please remind us of any old business?”

  The meeting proceeded quickly, dealing with important but routine issues: Australian and enemy military deployments, covert operations, psychological and physical experiments on their own raw materials – remanded Psychos in their custody.

  A short discussion ensued about what to do with the five defecting US nano-commandos. In the end, they voted unanimously to assign them to General Nguyen’s new Direct Action command. They pointedly did not discuss the five hostage children; Nguyen had already insisted on handling the matter personally.

  Behind Nguyen, Ann Alkina took notes. Now dressed as a plain Army captain, she functioned as his aide and personal assistant in public, his lover in private. The tapping of her fingers on the keyboard joined the background noises of other aides and assistants behind their respective principals.

  Nguyen waited until all old and other new business had been dealt with before he spoke. “I have a new topic for consideration and study.” His eyes swept the table. “Let me briefly review. This nation is largely unaffected by the recent nuclear exchange and by the Demon Plagues, but our biological research facilities are not as advanced as those in South Africa, where the Free Communities – pardon, the other Free Communities –” quiet laughter at the table – “have concentrated their research facilities. Our intelligence services have an incomplete but sufficient picture of the United States’ massive nanomachine project ‘Tiny Fortress’, and within hours we will have actual living examples of the results. The Chinese still have a considerable cyber-warfare capability. The Russians as usual have nothing but a mess.” Another round of chuckles. “And the Neutral States have economic power. But what do we have?”

  James Ekara, the shadow Minister of Research and Development, answered, looking down at his perfectly-manicured nails. “We have an undamaged continent, a lot of undeveloped natural resources, and a bunch of shiny happy Edens to work their arses off for us.”

  “And we have the long view,” snapped Smythe. “Still, our lives are not infinite. Make your point, Nguyen.”

  “My point is, madam, the rest of the world is working frantically to beat the Demon Plagues. They have opened the floodgates on research for everything biological and, in many cases, nanological. We can acquire anything we need in these areas without investing much – after all, Markis is giving away every beneficial medical development the Free Communities come up with, and I believe he will persuade the Neutral States to do so as well. We already have the US nano-vaccine for Edens, and soon we will have living samples of their latest supersoldier-makers. But no one is looking past the Demon Plagues.”

  Right on cue, Ekara asked, “Looking past to what?”

  Nguyen was glad he had primed the prissy scientist beforehand.

  “To the real invasion,” he said, “when the aliens show up to colonize us. So let’s assume the rest of the world does save themselves and us from the biological threat. We need to put minimum resources into such research and maximum resources into the next area of war.”

  “Which is?”

  “Space. As long as the aliens have control of the space around this planet, they have the high ground and we will always be vulnerable. The alien Raphael said they do not have faster-than-light travel, and that one of their ships will be here within a year. If that ship can drop objects on us at will – more diseases, or perhaps asteroids – we will never progress into space, never beat them. And we do not know what will come after, when they find out that their plagues did not wipe us out. We must get into space. We need a genuine warship.” Nguyen folded his hands in front of him, looking contemplatively, even humbly down at the table in front of him. In this group of powerful and jealous people, it paid to speak softly.

  Transportation magnate Mathilde Van Berson, large, puffy, florid – Spooky hated to think what she would look like without the Eden Plague working overtime to force health upon her protesting body – asked, “What about the alien and the nanocommando – Denham? – that took off with the alien spacecraft?”

  Nguyen’s soft response hinted of steel. “We have only a few initial reports right now. I will inquire of Chairman Markis as soon as his and the Nightingale children are on their way back to them. I know Denham well: whatever he is doing, he is doing because he believes it will help to save humanity.” A bit of shading the truth, but… “No matter, we cannot depend on my friend Alan Denham’s desperate gamble.” His eyes sought each member in turn, emphasizing his connections to so many important players, enhancing his new status within their assembly.

  “But the resources!” Van Berson whined. “Our economy is at full capacity, we are experiencing inflation, labor shortages, fuel shortages…we can’t support the projects already underway.”

  “It seems to me that is a matter for the Free Communities Council. Chairman Markis is very adept at forging cooperative enterprises. And the Neutral States have enormous reserve industrial capacity. They should be invited to contribute to Earth’s defense.”

  “Yes, I’ll get the prime Minister to look into it. Back to the topic at hand,” Smythe grumped, “Who will control this warship?”

  General Nguyen responded, “If we build it, we in Australia will have a great deal of control, though the rest of the world will want their piece. It might be a genuinely international effort. That’s for the politicians to work out. But we will build it, and the second, and the third, and so on. It will increase our power and influence naturally. Australia, and therefore this Committee, will take a place of preeminence. Researchers will flock to us. Money will flow to us. The gratitude of billions will lift us up.”

  The nine around the table were silent for a moment, each lost in thoughts of power and selfish advantage. Finally, Smythe spoke. “It is an interesting topic for consideration and assessment. Mister Ekara, would you please take on the task of studying it and give us a preliminary report at next week’s meeting.”

  Spooky hid his satisfied smile.

  ***

  The long-range transport landed at the Free Communities Australian Air Force Base Richmond near Sydney after nea
rly fifteen hours in the air. The parachutes the nanocommando Huff and his remnant of the rogue Fortress Team had requested sat unused, still strapped to their pallet.

  A military truck with flashing lights led the enormous airplane to its stopping place within an equally enormous hangar. Ground crew placed chock blocks, and as soon as the engines shut down the giant hangar doors slammed shut. A couple of dozen troops, lightly armed, secured the inside perimeter of the hangar, but only one man approached the personnel door near the rear, a short Vietnamese highlander in a Brigadier’s dun-colored uniform.

  Spooky Nguyen.

  Standing a few steps from the door, he waited with his hands clasped behind his back, unarmed. Watching as the door opened, he showed a hand signal to the crew behind him. Other than that slight motion, he remained still.

  A rifle-wielding and helmeted male figure clad in midnight armor stepped into the plane’s doorway, looking around. He jumped down, and then sauntered over to Nguyen, to stop facing him from arm’s length. The two men were of a height, each about five foot five, one squat and muscular, one slim and erect.

  The faceless man gained a visage by tipping up his HUD plate, revealing exquisitely white teeth that contrasted with his blue-black skin. He laughed loudly, a clownish thing, all teeth and tongue. He saluted, mocking.

  “Chief Master Sergeant Huff reports as or-dered, suh!. You must be Spooky Nguyen.”

  “I am Brigadier Nguyen.” The General’s left hand froze in the hand signal while his right blurred out to seize Huff’s rifle, twisting it deftly out of his hand. The weapon came to rest pointing at Huff’s groin, Nguyen’s finger on the trigger. Somehow it was now set to full auto.

  Huff’s return blow, cat-quick, nevertheless found only air as Spooky moved slightly, leaning away from the hand just enough.

  “Stop!” barked Nguyen with a voice that struck Huff like an invisible blow, that caused his muscles to stutter and his mind to stumble.

  Huff did stop, then deliberately relaxed, all bravado. “That won’t even penetrate my armor,” he sneered.

  “But,” Spooky said calmly, “your groin protection is soft, and it’s going to hurt like a son of a bitch. When we spoke last by radio, you told me that you would join my command.”

  Huff twitched, itching to strike out again. “So?”

  “Do you always speak to your commanding officer in the familiar? I do not recall giving you leave to address me so. Here in Direct Action, you will earn your privileges, no matter what advantages you were given by injection.”

  “What if I decide to kill you right now?”

  Spooky smiled. “I took your weapon from you without difficulty. There is more to personal combat than raw speed and strength. If you tried, at best you would die with me, for I have given orders to that effect.”

  “But I have the children.” Huff did not seem quite as confident as before.

  “The only reason,” Nguyen replied, “that I care about those children is to maintain good relations with Daniel Markis, not out of weak-minded sentimentality. So at most we have a standoff, but that will slowly change. No matter what you do, no matter whom you threaten or kill, this airplane will not leave the hangar and you will have no kind of life or status in this nation unless I will it. You are only as free as you are useful to me.”

  Huff licked his lips. “Shit.”

  Spooky wasn’t sure whether Huff’s exclamation was disappointed or derisive. “Yes. Deep shit. You know my reputation. I’ll forget about this childish boundary-testing if you will uphold your part of the bargain and act properly from now on. I’m a man of my word.” He reversed the rifle, handing it back to Huff. “Are you?”

  Huff looked around the hangar as if searching for the catch, or a way out, but Spooky knew he would see nothing unless he was very, very observant. Eventually he took the weapon back, pointing it at the ground.

  Nguyen nodded. “Come now, let’s get those children off the plane. I suppose they’re cranky and eager to get home.”

  Huff chuckled. “Actually, they have been having a blast. It’s all a big adventure to them, even eating combat rations.”

  Spooky made a slight face. “Disgusting. Come on, Chief, talk to your men. Everything’s set.” He stayed in place, left arm still behind his back, hand signal showing.

  Huff nodded, appearing to accept their new relationship with equanimity. Turning to leap lightly into the personnel door of the airplane, he flipped hinged stairs out to touch the ground. A few moments later all five Fortress Team One commandos and their five young hostages stood on the polished hangar floor in front of Nguyen.

  Spooky nodded affably, raised a casual right hand in greeting, and gave another signal with his hidden left.

  A loud hum attacked their ears from overhead and the commandos immediately dropped writhing to the ground. At the same instant Nguyen leaped forward, propelling the two boys and three girls away from the focus of the electromagnetic field.

  Old age and treachery, he thought, beats youth and skill every time. As if I would honor my word to child-napping scum like you.

  From a nondescript doorway a line of men and women scurried to the twitching figures, efficiently stripped them of all their weapons and gear, then wrapped them in specially-made, metal-free restraint suits. They injected powerful narcotics and paralytic agents using nonmetallic syringes, then signaled for the beam to shut down. IVs dripped drugs as they lifted their charges onto five gurneys to load into unmarked medical trucks.

  Other men and women, Edens selected for their particularly kindly disposition, took charge of the children. They checked them over, questioning them gently and eventually loading them onto a minibus that took them to a teleconference with their families.

  Spooky supervised the evolution throughout, deliberately putting on a faintly pleased expression for the benefit of his highly efficient subordinates. I appreciate Edens for this kind of work – young in body, balanced in mind, eager and efficient and hardworking. Mormons without the theology. I couldn’t ask for better slaves, just as long as they never find out what they are. The gods of my ancestors bless the human desire to serve something greater – as long as I am that something.

  He accompanied the five precious commandos, his cybernetic breeders, on the way to the hastily-expanding laboratory. Each was an endless source of self-replicating nanobots, a ridiculously useful gift of shortsighted Tiny Fortress officials. Nguyen’s careful prying conversations with Daniel Markis, and his old friend and comrade Larry Nightingale, had revealed the outline of the Americans’ foolishness. He mused that he himself would never have let living, functioning nanocommandos into enemy hands. I would have installed fail-safe devices to shut down, deprogram, or otherwise render the nanobots useless – and I will. I will not make such mistakes, nor squander this windfall.

  Even as they drove, his industrious, well-paid and happy Edens were improving the nanomachine research facility that he controlled. In his jealously-guarded hand of political cards, that was his ace in the hole. The Committee underestimates nano-cybernetics’ role in the coming conflicts. They had relegated nano research – at his own suggestion – to his Direct Action command. Naturally the cybercommandos fell within his purview.

  In return he had given up all but a peripheral role in the development and production of Ekara’s first space warship. The Committee believed in a division of power among its members, and this was the price he paid. Still, he had always preferred the blade to the bludgeon, and his ambitions were not, in his own estimation, overweening. Few powerful people have ever been content with “enough,” but I shall be. Perhaps I should instruct Ann to recite “remember, thou art mortal” to me at least once a day.

  ---

  The convoy rolled out into the countryside well away from the Sydney urban sprawl. Nguyen observed the bustling economy with satisfaction. Spared both the nuclear strikes and all but a few cases of the Demon Plagues, Australia was booming. Well-educated, carefully-vetted immigrants – many of
them from among the extended Nguyen clan – filled high-tech positions, ensuring the nation remained at the forefront of scientific progress. Given the state of the rest of the world, Australia had a hundred applicants for every open space. Things were going very, very well.

  Spooky wondered when Murphy would show up to spoil the party.

  They drove past the busy heavy equipment planting fence posts and sensors in a new, wider ring, before passing through the older compound gate. Concrete trucks poured their contents into molds full of rebar, heavy haulers dispensed loads of wood and metal and prefabricated pieces. In a few weeks he would have triple the floor space upon which to dig out the secrets of the nanomachines.

  The five cybercommandos soon occupied five beds in a bay full of medical equipment. A squat, strangely out-of-place machine pointed its electromagnetic array down the full length of the room, the final backup if other control measures failed. It was twin to the one that had incapacitated the subjects in the hangar. Though it would ruin some of the more delicate pieces of medical and scientific equipment if it was ever used, Spooky was a careful man. Machines could be replaced.

  Captain Alkina met him there, watching as the technicians bustled about, preparing the helpless men for their role as the incubators of the future. Nguyen felt her gazing at him in adoration, and he touched her secretly, briefly, sending a cascade of emotion through her body. He sensed her response and it reassured him.

  If he ever failed to detect that reaction he would take special measures to safeguard himself, for it would mean that the eventual, inevitable loss of her dependency had begun. For now, though, she was utterly his.

  Once he was certain that everything was proceeding according to his wishes, he steered her into his on-site office, locked the door, and proceeded to remind her of his dominance, and of her submission.