AmEarth

(October 2045)

That same evening, without any idea of Scott’s whereabouts, Peter was flying in the FF to Canberra to deliver his next speech and make the Aussies more comfortable with the New Zealand transition. He hoped that the heckling had come to an end, but he was pleased with his handling of the incident in Wellington. In Canberra, he would meet leaders and businessmen to discuss the different objectives that the annexation of neighboring New Zealand presented. The copilot came into the main cabin an hour into the flight.

“Sir, there is an important call for you on the cockpit phone.” The copilot handed Peter a headset.

“Thanks,” Peter responded and placed the phone against his head. Then, he looked up at the copilot, who quickly realized that the president would not commence his conversation until he’d left.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. President.”

Once the copilot had gone, Peter spoke.

“This is President Johansen,” Peter said sternly into the device.

“Sir, it’s Rogers with the security detail here in Wellington”se

“What is it?”

“It’s your son, sir. He has eluded his detail.”

“Really? So where is he?”

“He went to the south island with the Bulatov girl.”

Inside, Peter was secretly impressed, but this wasn’t the time for praising his son’s cocksmanship.

“So what are you doing about it?”

“His wafer went off-line but we still have a lock on his location with his inner chip. Do you want us to retrieve him?”

“Absolutely not. Let him be. Just keep him monitored.”

“Full monitor or just GPS?”

“Full monitor. Over and out.”

“Yes sir. I’ll let the WSS know.”

That last command meant that a satellite would be moved and placed directly above his son’s location. Scott had been only eight when Peter had had the tracking GPS chip installed during a routine tonsillectomy. The chip was functional for a minimum of twenty years and still worked on his son. This was still a popular practice with parents today and doing it without their children’s knowledge did not violate any privacy laws, provided they informed their kids when they reached adulthood. Scott knew about the chip, but satellite oversight was not something that he often thought about. Peter had also had a chip installed by AmEarth back when he was cleared to level three.

From the satellite, images of Scott’s movements were gathered as if he were in grave danger. All of this information was recorded and gathered back in New York City by the Secret Service branch dedicated to the safety of top government officials around the world. This government branch was called the WSS, which stood for World Secret Service, and many conspiracy theorists thought that this was the agency responsible for most of the oppression and killing throughout the world. They did keep tabs on people around the globe at different levels, including trigger alerts of all types, but they were not the agency responsible for the many terrible and orchestrated things still occurring in the world.

The agency that was responsible was hidden away in the former Pentagon building. Washington had become a city museum, with no governmental purpose, and all of its buildings were now open to the public, including the White House, the houses of Congress, and the Pentagon. People from all over the world visited these sights and everyone knew that nothing important had come from that city for many years. The stealth WSA’s covert operations used the center of the Pentagon as its offices, a top-secret installation hiding inside a tourist attraction. The building was so huge that the tours never got close to those areas, and all of the World Security Administration staff commuted through tunnels and a seven-level system of entry and exit that ensured that no change to normal vehicle volume could be sensed on any nearby roads.

The WSA routinely moved satellites in the thermosphere at high speeds to monitor its security objectives, which in many cases ended up functioning as locking beacons for drone strikes. The satellites were placed over the enemy and the drones arrived as if by magic to eliminate the threat. All of the military satellites circling the Earth were the property of AmEarth and were controlled by a handful of powerful agencies. The information was shared on a need-to-know basis, and the WSA was the hub where all of the satellite locations were held. A few hours after the WSS began to move satellites to follow Scott, a red flag was triggered at the WSA.

Marianne’s car sped at sixty-five miles an hour; anything above that started to feel dangerous. Marianne had been driving for two hours when they stopped to pick up batteries. The power station catered only to electric vehicles and had batteries of several standard types for replacement. The station had twenty or thirty small manual deer cranes that look like mini-forklifts with two antennas resembling antlers; hence their name. One side of each antler held freshly charged batteries. and the machines were operated by the customers. Marianne placed her wafer next to the unit and it lit up, allowing her to use the rear joystick. She gently drove the crane close to her car. The crane had a small red-and-blue-striped battery. She opened the rear trunk and with the empty “antler,” pulled its cable, and snapped it onto the battery hook in her car. Then she pushed the switch on the cable itself, and the crane began to retract the cable, allowing Marianne to remove the heavy battery without any effort, other than ensuring that the battery would not hit the car. It gently floated out of the car and Marianne held it so that it would not rock. Then she pushed the button on the other battery and pulled the new battery gently down into place. The whole operation took only a few minutes.

“Let me drive. You should rest,” Scott said.

“I’m not tired,” Marianne answered defensively.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“All right, fine.”

Marianne chucked the keys at Scott, and they switched sides of the car. Halfway around, they had to pass through the narrow space between the deer crane and the back of the car. They clumsily moved close to one another, and Scott purposefully made contact with her.

“Excuse me,” Scott said, with as much charm as he could manage.

“Hey…Easy there, mister,” Marianne replied with a smile.

This minimal amount of intimacy revealed a certain magnetism between them, something that neither had expected. Scott sat down behind the wheel and began to drive the strange old car.

“What’s that pedal on the left?” Scott asked.

“That’s the old clutch. Just ignore it,” Marianne said.

“Okay.”

Scott drove for the next two hours on Highway 1 until Marianne directed him to take the exit north along Highway 7. About half an hour later, they switched again, and Marianne continued on smaller and smaller roads with taller and taller trees. Scott felt immersed in the depth of the forest surrounding them as night fell and it became ominously dark. Marianne turned onto a remote dirt road that would lead them to the camp. The drive was approaching five hours and both of them were tired, but Marianne was also wired in anticipation of what was to come. Scott kept looking at Marianne as she drove masterfully along the bumpy road.

“You sure know your way around here,” Scott said.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Their conversation was minimal as the wind blowing through the convertible made it hard to talk. The radio played all of her favorite music, which happened to coincide with some music that Scott liked. The blasting radio kept them awake and Scott felt admittedly exhilarated without the security detail. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he felt bad that his father wouldn’t be able to speak to him through the wafer, but he was with Sergio’s daughter, and they could reach her wafer if they really needed him.

They drove until they left the trees behind and entered a valley, where the clear sky opened up, revealing millions of stars. Scott looked up in awe at the pure quality of the night sky. There was no city or manmade lighting system that interfered with the view.

“Wow,” Scott said breathlessly.

“You said it,” Marianne agreed as she also drank in the sight.

A few hundred yards ahead, they could see a small light. The home of Oliver Cook was at the end of the country road and was completely dark, except for the dim light escaping from the windows. Scott followed Marianne into the house, thinking that it would be morning before he actually saw where he was.

However, inside the home, in the large living room, a group of people were talking loudly. Their discussions sounded as if a political meeting was going on. There were so many arguments and voices floating around that Scott and Marianne’s arrival went largely unnoticed. People looked no different from normal students at any university and they were dressed casually; despite that, Scott sensed that he was in another world. They sat down in the living room in spaces made by people scooting over to create room, which separated Scott from Marianne.

“These bastards have rigged the president. It’s unbelievable,” an anonymous voice said.

“If he can lie without anyone knowing, then what’s next? People will believe the AmEarth lie machine,” another suggested.

“What if he’s not lying?” someone offered.

Scott laughed at this, at which point Oliver noticed him.

“Are you…? Marianne can I talk to you for a minute?” It had not been a request.

“Sure,” Marianne said, and stood up.

Other members of this meeting started to look at Scott and mumbling began. Marianne approached Oliver, and he whispered in her ear. Scott stared intently, feeling increasingly uncomfortable.

“Is that the president’s son?”

“Yes…” Marianne uttered in a nearly inaudible whisper.

“Why the fuck is he here?”

“I met my Dad. He introduced us.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“I thought this might be a good thing.” Oliver’s expression showed her that she had been wrong.

Oliver got up and ordered everyone to be quiet. Silence fell quickly over the group.

“It seems that Marianne has brought a distinguished guest into our midst. I imagine that he will be followed soon by AmEarth security personnel,” Oliver announced with disgust.

“No! We dumped his wafer. He’s with me,” Marianne said loudly, trying to calm the growing rumbles of dissent.

“Then they’ll track your wafer, Marianne. They probably know that you’re together.”

“Yes, and they know that I’m showing him the countryside. He is not expected back in New York for two days. He’s on vacation. No one is following us. We left his security detail on the other island.”

More aggressive mumbling began among the people present; it would soon grow into chaos if Oliver didn’t take control.

“We will have to refuse hospitality to you and your guest. Sorry. I need you to move on and I need you to do it quickly. This location is the only safe haven that our movement has. Bringing the son of the president here was probably the stupidest thing you could have done.”

More people were speaking now, and Scott heard, “son of the president” and “Johansen” throughout the assembled crowd. He could sense hatred mixed with reverence, a mixture that could turn ugly if anyone misspoke.

“He laughed when someone suggested that his father wasn’t lying,” Pat chimed in.

“Yes, he did,” someone seconded.

“Explain yourself,” Oliver said to Scott, irritated that this was becoming a discussion, but willing to entertain the question.

“I…I just know that my Dad was lying. I just know,” Scott said.

“How do you know?” Pat demanded.

Scott knew that this could get ugly if he didn’t give them something to work with.

“I was with Professor Landon when you sent the Kepler 3763 document. I’m the one who told my father about the lies. He believed the alien threat until I proved that it was a lie. So…he knows,” Scott confessed, hoping it would help his case.

“Unfortunately, that also means your father knows that you’re here and who we are,” Oliver reasoned.

“No. He doesn’t.”

“Did you tell him who we are? And where we are?” Pat demanded angrily.

“I swear I didn’t. My dad doesn’t even know Ted Landon.”

“I don’t know how we can believe him,” Oliver concluded.

“My dad is in Australia and he doesn’t know I’m here. I don’t even know where here is,” Scott practically shouted.

“It’s true, Oliver! Honest!” Marianne insisted.

“Well, tell me something I don’t know, Scott. How did your father lie without being detected?” Oliver asked seriously.

“That I don’t know, but I do know that he was worried about the lie detection systems and he was certain that there would be a new election soon. I overheard that Chen was forced to resign because his lies were being detected.”

“That much we know. It’s how your father lies that is worrisome. It will be much harder to prove our case if we cannot prove that he’s lying,” Oliver explained. The room had begun to calm down.

“I’m certain that having Scott here will be trouble. He should leave. Now!” Pat said with finality.

“I agree. Marianne, you’ve both gotta go,” Oliver said.

“But—”

“No, Marianne. Leave. Now. Go to Christchurch or somewhere else. I don’t care, but do it now.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Scott whispered quietly in her ear.

“Fine,” Marianne assented.

There was a feeling that the best move would be for them to leave immediately. Some of the men there did not seem as stable as Pat and Oliver, so who knew how they would react? Marianne moved swiftly, but without panic, back to her car. Scott followed in the same manner and didn’t look back. One glance could spark anything.

Meanwhile, Peter was lying comfortably on a king-size bed in the AmEarth embassy in Australia, finally getting some rest. He was scheduled to speak tomorrow and was happy with how things were going when his wafer lit up in red. The special security tone chimed.

“Yes?” Peter answered.

“Sir. This is Rogers again. It’s about Scott,” Rogers stated succinctly.

“Go ahead, Rogers.”

“It seems that our satellite followed him to a hotspot being monitored by the WSA.”

“The WSA? Are you sure?”

“Yes, they are monitoring a rebel camp deep in the mountains of the South Island. Our satellite was so close that it was deemed best to jump to their signal. They were immediately made aware of whom we were tracking and General Redford was informed. I have been asked to patch you in to him. Is that okay with you, sir?”

“Tell him to call me directly on this line. And tell him to call me on a single secure line. You understand?”

“Yes, sir. A single secure line. Over and out.”

“Good-bye.”

Peter hung up and immediately realized that leaving Sergio and Scott behind had been a mistake. Before he could clear his thoughts about what to do, his phone lit up again.

“Hello?” Peter answered.

“Mr. President, John Redford here. We have a situation,”

“I understand, John. I honestly don’t know why Scott is where he is. I do know that it involves a very pretty young girl. We should try to extract him naturally before any operation is contemplated. What was your mission in the area?”

“Our operation was to clean up any dissent in New Zealand as quickly as possible. We want to establish the new territory as quickly and cleanly as possible.”

“I hope you understand that Scott’s presence there changes your scope. I cannot have my son in the middle of any hot operation. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir. We do have other means to quell dissent. More humane methods…”

“General, I do not approve of any operation while my son is near that camp. He is with Sergio Ramirez-Bulatov’s daughter. Did you know this?”

“No.”

“This is more complicated than you know.”

“I cannot stop the operation. We have intel that needs to be addressed. What I can do is wait until Scott leaves the rebel camp and then use a minimal force operation to eliminate the threat.”

“John, I need you to be one hundred percent sure that the girl is out of the camp as well. Do you have any way of tracking her?”

“We do not.”

“Call me back in five minutes, and I will give you her wafer number so that you can at least GPS her. She cannot be hurt, do you understand? She is a Ramirez-Bulatov and must be protected.”

“Even if she’s a rebel?”

“She’s not and neither is my son. Period. That is an executive order, John. This is a family matter. There has been no treason here. That girl is probably related to some scientist or something and that may have put her in harm’s way!” Peter was almost shouting.

“Okay. Get me the number. I’ll wait for your call. You have my word that nothing will happen to those two.”

“Thanks. Oh, and John?”

“Yes sir.”

“Thank you for your support in the last Supercomputer Committee meeting. I’ll call you back.”

Peter dialed Sergio and hoped that he would answer quickly. Fortunately, he did.

“Sergio, it seems that my son’s wafer is out of batteries or something. Can you give me Marianne’s number, please? I know that they’re together,” Peter said.

“Sure, Peter. Is something wrong?” Sergio asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“No, nothing at all, I just want to give him a message from his Mom. That’s all.”

“Sure. Her number is 8585-0808-1961.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, doing fine. Have to run. Say hello to Robbie. Bye.” Peter hung up and immediately dialed John Redford.

“John?” Peter said.

“Mr. President.”

“The number is 8585-0808-1961. Got it?”

“Yes. I’ll take care of this.”

“This is in your hands. Keep me appraised and be careful.”

“Will do. We will use minimal force, sir.”

“But only when they are well out of range.”

“Yes, don’t worry, sir.”

“Thanks. Good-bye.”

General Redford was in his office at the AmEarth headquarters and upon hanging up, he headed for the elevator bank and descended to the War Room where all the screens monitoring the world’s hotspots showed on the satellite live feeds. As he entered, about half of the personnel got up and saluted. He ignored them and focused on the screen with New Zealand in its scope. He spoke briefly to Colonel Williams, who was handling the operation. Onscreen, Oliver Cook’s house and its surroundings were visible, with heat detection showing the various bodies in the home, as well as several in the surrounding areas. Cars and trucks were also visible all around the home.

A red pinging light could be seen in the middle of the living room. Colonel Williams spoke to a technical assistant who had plugged in Marianne’s wafer number. On screen, a second red ping appeared right next to Scott’s.

“Fucking lovebirds,” Redford muttered.

“I’m sorry, sir?” Williams said.

“Nothing, nothing…Listen people! We’re changing Operation Blind Mice to a minimal force op. Get a sound eraser ready for launch and a magnetic field on the main exit to the compound. We will need a cleanup crew and there are to be no weapons fired. Williams, once the two people we are pinging leave the compound, the operation is a go. Understood?”

“Yes sir,” Williams said.

With that, various operatives began calling the different air force carriers stationed near the New Zealand islands and asked them to prepare the equipment needed for the type of operation General Redford had described. Onscreen, the two pings in the center of the many heat-sensed individuals began to move, and as if orchestrated by General Redford, the two red pinging dots began to make their way alone out of the building and into a vehicle. Then, the red pinging dots moved rapidly away from the compound.

“This is working out better than I thought. Are we ready?” Redford asked.

“The jet can be ready to deploy in seven minutes, sir,” Williams replied.

“What is the radius of the sound eraser?” Redford said.

“Five miles.”

“Keep tracking them. When they reach five miles from the camp, the operation is live.”

“Yes sir.”

Marianne’s car traveled away from the camp, with Scott driving a tired Marianne toward Highway 7. It was slow going in the rough terrain at night, so their five-mile radius was still a few minutes out.

“Let me know how the operation goes,” Redford ordered as he left the room.

The operation began smoothly a few minutes later, and all of the personnel followed their instructions. However, no one noticed that soon after the car had passed the five-mile boundary, it took a U-turn and headed back toward the camp. Marianne had forgotten her backpack in the haste of their departure and needed her things. She said that she would go in alone and grab it quickly, so as not to raise any more anger.

A supersonic jet plane arrived over the site and launched three missile-like units, each of which was remotely operated via camera to strike pinpointed targets. One fell on the rear of Oliver Cook’s home, making a loud thud as it wedged itself into the earth with incredible force. The bomb-shaped device did not explode, but instead began emitting a piercing noise that could deafen any human ear. Animals and insects immediately fled, and humans had little recourse but to do so as well. A few seconds later, two other devices of a similar nature landed on either side of the road leading away from the home and created an invisible magnetic field between them. The two pieces also set up a radioactive field between them that made an imprint on any object crossing it. This was a simple radioactive isotope that tagged any crossing object with tiny electrons that had a short half-life and posed no real danger to humans or animals.

Inside the house, no conversation could penetrate the noise coming from the “sound eraser,” although a few men tried to quell the sound by throwing quilts over it. However, they didn’t diminish the sound at all and the longer a person remained near the noise, the sooner a deep pain developed in the temples and eardrums. Everyone held their hands to their ears and a few grabbed important information and laptops as they fled from the noise. They all leaped into their vehicles and drove away, passing through the magnetic field, which erased their computer drives and showered them with invisible low-grade radiation.

Marianne and Scott heard the noise, and it gradually became unbearable. They stopped about halfway to the house when they met the cars leaving the house. The first car had about eight people crammed inside it and they all seemed shocked and in pain, holding their hands over their ears.

“What happened?” Marianne asked.

The driver pointed to his ears in a gesture that meant he couldn’t hear her.

“Turn around and get away…Get away from here! There’s been an attack,” the man screamed, as he couldn’t hear his own sound level.

“Okay! Turn around, Scott. This is scary,” Marianne said.

Scott immediately swung the vehicle in the opposite direction.

Behind them they saw more and more cars coming their way. The pair drove without stopping until they reached an open parking lot near the road where the other cars where stopping. The noise here was like a low ringing sound in their ears, but it was bearable. There they waited with the others, hoping that Oliver or Pat would arrive and know what to do. More cars stopped, full of deafened, terrified passengers. Then, Marianne spotted Oliver and Pat in Oliver’s vintage Mercedes Benz. As she approached them, she could see that Oliver was turning his laptop on. Scott stayed in Marianne’s car, trying not to draw any attention to himself.

“Oliver,” Marianne spoke through the window.

Oliver couldn’t hear her and was staring at his computer, waiting for it to start up. She saw him flinch in desperation. The computer screen was blank. There was no start screen or system loading. It had been wiped clean of all its contents. Pat looked over and shared the moment of desperation and hurt. He saw Marianne in the window and swung his head around to see Scott about a hundred yards away, sitting in her car at the other end of the parking lot. He opened his door and stormed out, pushing Marianne to the side and heading straight for Scott, hungry to unleash his anger.

Scott saw this happening, but he kept his eyes on Marianne the whole time. He pushed the accelerator, which immediately bucked the car straight toward the oncoming Pat. Pat hadn’t expected that, so he stopped and stood his ground, raising his arms in front of the car, as if he could stop it with his will alone. Scott swerved at the last instant, passing Pat by only a few inches, and drove to Marianne’s side.

“Get in,” Scott said.

Marianne jumped in the back seat, and Scott took off for the highway, leaving Pat standing in the middle of the parking lot, furious. Oliver had just reached Pat’s side by the time Scott looked in the rearview mirror. He was unclear what their intentions would be, so he stomped on the accelerator and fled. Marianne moved up to the front seat, visibly shocked by Pat’s behavior.

“I thought he was going to kill you!”

“I know. I had to get us out of there,” Scott agreed, shaking with adrenaline.

“But why? You could have just left me behind.”

“Are you crazy? I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Have you ever fallen in love at first sight?”

“What?” Marianne screamed.

Scott regretted saying that immediately, realizing that this was neither the time nor the place for stupid sappy shit.

“Haven’t you thought that they might blame the attack on you, not just me?”

“What does that have to do with love?”

“I don’t know, Marianne. I don’t know what I’m saying. This is all a bit much.”

Scott turned his head to see if they were being followed. Scott was red in the face, flushed with excitement and embarrassment, but the emotions of the situation were so strong that this faded fast. Marianne looked flustered, but she smiled.

“I needed to get you away from them!” Scott said.

“Did we…? I mean, did we cause that?” Marianne demanded, suspicious of him again.

“I had nothing to do with this. Nothing.”

Meanwhile, an AmEarth helicopter flying over the camp dropped a single marine. This trained operative wore a special helmet that shielded his ears from the “sound eraser” via specialized reverse frequencies. He dropped rapidly and opened a black parachute about 7,000 feet from the ground. He navigated his fall to land on the driveway of the Cook home. With a special key, he disabled all three cone-shaped mechanisms. The noise stopped, and the operation theater was ready for the real work. A team of nine other marines arrived a few minutes later in exactly the same way and proceeded to collect all printed matter in the home, as well as all digital files. They took all the materials, including books and films, photos and posters. With special hand-held magnetic resonance viewers, they quickly saw through walls and found all of the secret compartments within the home.

They placed all of the found materials in containers lowered by a cable from winches on various helicopters, which were making rounds to the aircraft carrier. As they began the mop-up part of the operation, the agents used a magnet/microwave gun to ensure that any tiny computer drive would be irreparably damaged if it were left behind in any nook or cranny of the entire home. The helicopters lowered more cables and marines hooked up the three bomb-like devices and removed them from the camp. One short hour later, the Cook home was left devoid of any information in any format, other than the art on the walls. No human life was taken, but all of their electronic and written records were gone, from novels and real estate deeds to email accounts and family pictures. Gone.

Peter was informed of the operation and the proximity of Scott to the camp, so he ordered an immediate extraction. That command dispatched a group of helicopters, which soon intercepted Marianne’s car as it traveled down Highway 7 toward Highway 1. The car was closely followed by Oliver and Pat, as well as other rebel-filled vehicles, but they were stopped by a very effective helicopter roadblock. Scott and Marianne were greeted at gunpoint by marines who ran toward the stopped vehicle in the middle of the road.

“I think we’ll be fine,” Scott said, before the marines were within earshot.

“You, sure. You’re the president’s son. I’m not that lucky,” Marianne said.

“I’ll protect you, and so will your dad. You have no idea how powerful he is.”

“I sure hope so…”

“Just keep your mouth shut. Not a peep about anything. Especially not about the alien threat. That’s treason. Okay?”

“Got it.”

Scott was relieved. He was exhausted from all the driving and the wild emotions; particularly from being followed by a pack of furious rebels. The helicopter took off safely with Scott and Marianne, their bodies pushed against one another in the cramped seats. He grabbed her hand just as the helicopter took off, and she didn’t pull away.

The marines stopped all the cars moving north and south on Highway 7, and allowed vehicles without the radiation signature to move forward. The AmEarth marines began a routine ID operation. In minutes they erected a tentlike structure with many fabric cubicles and a remote robot drilled anchors into the earth inside these cubicles. Pat and Oliver, along with all the intercepted rebels, were kept in this makeshift tent-jail. There was fabric material between their “cells,” and all of the men were handcuffed to the metal ring exposed on the surface of the floor. Communication would have been possible, had they all not still had a horrendous ringing in their ears that prevented any discernible speech. They were all given water that contained a special solution that put them to sleep within fifteen minutes. AmEarth personnel used this sleep aid to insert miniature microchip devices into the livers of the rebels. This organ had no internal nerve endings, so it caused no residual pain; the only evidence of the insertion was a small cut that was quickly cauterized, so its final appearance was that of a small scratch.

From that day on, all of the rebels from the camp were tracked. Red lights on the World Security Administration computers lit up if any of them met. Any meeting by this group could be monitored for content or “crashed” by AmEarth, essentially neutralizing whatever threat it represented.