Extinction

-20-

I left the General in the care of two angry marines. The sandy ground crunched beneath my boots as I headed back toward the command bunker.

The thing that galled me the most—even more than having been fooled into walking out of a base I could have held onto—was knowing I would have to go along with their charade. I would have to pretend to accept the president’s heartfelt apologies. There wasn’t any choice, really. What good would it do to reveal the truth? How would Earth’s defenses be strengthened by my angry public rebuttals of the administration’s story? Star Force would look weak and foolish. The Pentagon would look dishonorable. The facts would only sow future discord.

Cooperating now was going to be difficult at best, but it had to be done. If we publicly declared we were angry, abused and distrustful, it would only magnify the problem. We would have to be careful, of course. In the future, we would have to follow the old Reagan doctrine: trust, but verify. In other words, we would smile and say we trusted everything they did or said. But once the cameras were off, we would check out everything with paranoid attention to detail.

Eventually, slowly, pretending often turned into actual cooperation. Just look at the treaty ending any war. Years later, nations that were at each other’s throats frequently turned into tight allies. I felt like General George Washington, leading my ragtag army to a surprise victory over the British. I only hoped we could grow to work together in the future. I couldn’t help but be nagged by the reminder that it took the Americans and the British a very long time to become allies. The War of 1812, for example, stuck out in my mind.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was going to be a difficult year. Pulling everything together in time for the return of the Macros was going to be the work of a magician. And my hat was all out of rabbits.

Sandra beat me back to the command bunker. She threw open the door of a Humvee, driven by the hulking shape of Staff Sergeant Kwon. He hadn’t quite stopped rolling, and he slammed on the brakes. She bounced out and intercepted me. The marines guarding the entrance smiled with half their mouths, bemused.

The kiss would have lasted a long time, but I gently pushed her away. Marines all around the camp were glancing and chuckling.

“You lived,” she said.

I squinted, fully expecting her to slap me for something. She didn’t though. She must have felt the fifty pair of eyes that watched us.

“We both did,” I said. I pointed out to the beach. She followed my gaze to the ocean, where one breaker after another rolled in over the cream-white sand. “That’s where I want to take you. I want to spend a week with you on a beach.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“I can’t today, however. I have to set things up. I have to shore up our defenses.”

“Didn’t we win? I’ve been listening to the radio—it works again. They say it was all a big mistake.”

“They are right about that,” I said. “Kerr tells me we won. Should I take his word for that?”

She tore her eyes from the rolling seas and looked at me seriously. “Hell no.”

“Exactly,” I said. “So the first thing I’m going to do is build and set up more laser turrets. A lot more of them.”

She nodded. “You’re right. And after that?”

“After that, I’ll reset the machines to build new forces.”

“What kind of forces?”

“The kind that will keep the Macros from destroying us when they come back.”

She smiled. “It’s hard to argue with those goals. Can we vacation after that?”

“Yes. I think so.”

She leaned her head against my shoulder. The touch was so light, it felt as if a butterfly hand landed there. I thought about that, how light her touches were now that I’d been nanotized. They were maddening, teasing.

“I can wait that long,” she said.

“I didn’t say I would never take breaks.”

She smiled up at me and nodded. I knew, if the guys hadn’t been staring, she would have jumped on me. Her hair was long these days, and the wind coming in from the sea made it dance and stream in dark lines around her face. I managed to get her to the mess hall, where men were already at work cleaning up. Our regular staff had fled, so we would have to make do with slop made by our fellow marines for now. I left her there, promising to return when I could, and went back to check on the situation in the command center.

Barrera was awake now, but he didn’t look happy. His face was a rictus of pain. We’d given him a shot of nanites—not the full treatment, just an emergency injection. I felt for him, the nanites were sewing up flesh in a thousand spots at once. I’d felt those ant-like, prickling sensations on many occasions.

“This is what the nanites feel like?” he managed to hiss out between his teeth.

“Yeah. Sort of burns, doesn’t it?”

“You could say that. How long does it last?”

“A few hours. Better than three weeks of healing up. You’ll be combat ready very soon.”

“Better for whom?”

I regarded him. “Barrera, have I told you my new policy.”

His eyes, squinting almost shut, slid to regard me. I saw a gash in his cheek gleam with a single flash of light. It seemed like it was full of mercury, or hot solder. The liquid metal rippled inside the wound.

“What policy?” he grunted out.

“About officers being required to undergo the full nanite treatment.”

“More of this joy, eh?”

I nodded. “Exactly. But not so itchy-burny. More like they are tearing your guts out, rebuilding them, and stuffing them back in.”

He nodded. “Do I have to do it now?”

“Why not get it over with? What are you saving yourself for, man?”

He managed a grin, but it was little more than a slit revealing his teeth. “Yes sir. Could someone help me to the chair?”

I waved a marine forward. It was a corporal, and he looked sympathetic.

“If you feel the urge to rip at something, try your clothes or your thighs,” I told him. “People tell me you can satisfy the need and do much less damage that way.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind, sir,” said Barrera as the corporal half-walked, half-carried him out the door.

Barrera and Crow passed each other at the entrance to the command center. Crow swaggered as he came in, hands on his hips. “We kicked their asses, as you Yanks love to say.”

“We certainly did, sir. Too bad it took us so long to figure out we’d won. We could have killed fewer men in the process.”

Crow waved away my negative words as if they stunk up the air. “Never mind that. She’ll be right, mate. Now, what did you get out of that smug prick Kerr?”

I told him about the arrangements, and was able to convince him we needed to play along with the fictional cover-story.

“Such a devilish web of lies we weave, eh, Kyle?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t know about that, sir.”

Crow grinned suddenly, expectantly. He clapped his hands together. “Okay, so we are back in business. Now, how soon can you crank out a fleet for me?”