Journey of Rick Heiden Ch. 49-50

The Journey of Rick Heiden

All Rights Reserved © 2021, Rick Haydn Horst

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

My head rested on my folded arms, and I stared upward as though lying in a hayfield, counting clouds, wiling away the hours. However, when I glanced at the clock; it was a few minutes past two in the morning. The temperature in the penthouse felt conducive to sleeping, as did the soft sheets and supple mattress beneath whose padding cradled me in comfort. I felt secure, having bolted the doors before tipping a chair beneath the knobs on the entryway from the balcony, but sleep eluded me.

The next day was Saturday; one day away from discovering that David either faked his own disappearance for reasons unknown, or unknown people had him --if they hadn't killed him outright.

I recalled the last time I saw David as he climbed the portal to leave for Earth. I played it many times from my enhanced memory, viewing it as if it were happening before my eyes. His strong legs propelled him up the stairs, the look on his face as he turned to me and smiled. David was so handsome. He spoke to me just before he vanished into the portal.

"You're not sleeping either, are you?" Cadmar's voice, a mere whisper, yelled to me in the dead silence of the penthouse, disrupting my remembrances.

"Some of its portal lag, no doubt." I rose to the side of the bed with a deep breath, both exhausted and resigned.

An insistent rapping sounded. Cadmar rushed to answer the door. "It's Sal!" He said aloud, and I heard unlatching sounds.

I grabbed my pants and slipped them on.

"Where's Rick?" I heard Sal ask in urgency.

"What's wrong?" asked Cadmar.

"Quick, turn on BBC News. They're about to play the rebroadcast. It's on channel 503."

I hurried into the sitting room, still fiddling with my pants. "Our apologies, Sal, people raised on Jiyū have no sense of modesty."

He glanced at Cadmar, who unabashedly hadn't bothered to dress. "I noticed."

As Cadmar took the hint to don his pants, I rummaged for the remote to the flat-panel television, which hung unused upon the wall. Pushing a few buttons had us viewing the channel in question.

"...growing concern for some time," said the American president to a special joint session of the United States Congress. "They have infected the population with their technology. They have caused a severe blow to the economy. They have shown us how easily they could invade this world at the portal near London. And when we sent our five emissaries on a peaceful mission through the portal in Japan, they eventually returned, three of them dead, killed in the most horrific ways.

"Of the two that survived the encounter on the alien planet, only the recently recommissioned Captain Hector Lopez came back in his right mind."

The screen split to include a shot of our erstwhile Mr. Lopez, whom they apparently reinstated into the Army and had given the rank of captain. He sat in the gallery in full army service uniform.

"His name's Hector," I said, "that suits him."

"The other survivor," the president continued, "Salvatore Greco has gone missing, but we hope to find him so that we can help him. Captain Lopez tells us that they broke Mr. Greco, and he told them everything they wanted to know. Having been broken, whatever Mr. Greco says now, he should not be trusted.

"We intend to stop Earth's creeping Jiyūvian takeover, or else we'll find ourselves with a world we don't recognize, full of people ripe for their conquest," he said, to which both houses of Congress gave considerable applause. "I have a message for all Jiyūvians on this planet. You and your people will pay for what you did to Mark Wallen, Jacob Tourney, and Thaddeus Coulter; those are names we will not forget.

"On my orders, American forces will begin targeting Jiyūvians, and their aircraft, providing an unequivocal message to these people. 'Go home and do not return, or you will face the deadliest of consequences.'"

The rest of the speech consisted of little more than an indulgent mix of ego-stroking and a sermon on how their god had blessed them and would continue to bless them as Americans. It ended with profuse applause from both sides of the aisle, with a lot of back-patting, as they stood in a rare moment of solidarity over the extreme measures they would employ, protecting their power and financial interests.

"The rest is only interviews and speculations," said Sal.

"They're attempting to discredit us," said Cadmar.

"For the gullible people of the world, they did a good job of it," I said.

"How will the British respond to this?" asked Cadmar.

"They won't rush into anything," I said, "and I wouldn't expect any extradition treaties to apply in this case. The British Government will know they're lying rather blatantly about some of it, so they have no reason to believe them about the deaths of those three men."

"What will we do?" asked Sal.

"If someone from the British government doesn't contact me, I will contact Mr. Haywood in the morning."

Sal appeared more haggard than he had earlier. He wore the same clothes we had given him before he left Jiyū. He had bathed, however, and the hotel had provided him some personal hygiene items. I noticed his lip had swollen. "What happened to your lip?"

"Becca sleeps with the television on, but she was awake during the Presidential speech. She got angry at me for dragging her and Gertie into all this. Tomorrow, she intends to catch the earliest flight to Houston. She's going home to her mother."

"What about helping Gertrude?" asked Cadmar.

"If she considered letting you help her before, she wouldn't trust you now."

"Is she not your daughter too?" I asked.

"I'm her stepfather, and although I'm the only father Gertie's ever known, Becca insisted when we married that she would retain the sole right to decide Gertie's medical needs."

"What difference does that make?" asked Cadmar. "Rebecca is making a decision based on lies. Gertrude is suffering; give her the nano-suspension anyway. It's the morally right thing to do."

"Yes, Cadmar, it's the morally right thing to do, and Sal might even agree with us, but this is Earth. Morality almost invariably takes a back seat to what those in power want or what is legal, and when they do correlate, too often, it's purely coincidental."

I had never witnessed Cadmar angry before. It didn't last long, but his brows lowered, and lips stretched into a tight line. "I don't like this place," he said.

"That makes two of us." I turned to Sal. "You said you wanted to speak to us last night, what about."

He nodded. "You should know what happened when I came back to Earth." He sat in the chair behind him, so we sat up on the couch. "I've been back for nearly six days. When Lopez and I arrived on Earth, no one greeted us. And although I didn't want to, we moved the body bags with Wallen and Tourney to the side of the clearing, so someone could pick them up later. We walked to the road and hitched a ride in a truck bed to Camp Fuji; that's a nearby marine corps base. You should know that someone created a narrow path from the portal site to the parking lot of the Ice Cave tourist attraction. It looked fresh."

"That sounds important," I said to Cadmar.

"When we got to Camp Fuji, we were brought before the base commander, Colonel Chapman. He ordered that they debrief us separately.

"They didn't question me verbally. They didn't even ask about my personal experience after we got there; they gave me a pen and a piece of paper full of questions to answer. They didn't get the data from the drones they sent with us, but they had us, and in some ways, that was better. They asked about the Jiyūvian military, the technology, the geography of the area, what the food was like, a lot of things, but nothing personal. I tried to tell them what happened, but I sat before them the picture of health, so none of it mattered. They just wanted their questions answered."

"Considering what you went through, that's pretty callous of them," said Cadmar.

"What did you tell them about Jiyū?" I asked.

"I would normally have done my duty as an American," he said, "but I couldn't. As a civilian, they couldn't make me do anything. I wanted to remain in good conscience, so I decided to return the kindness given to me on Jiyū, by not allowing anyone here to benefit from the lies they fed me before I left Earth. I told them nothing.

"When you found us in the meadow," he said, "I had lost my mind from exhaustion, fear, desperation, and hunger. Lopez was dying in front of me, and I couldn't help him. I told no one on Jiyū, but I had planned the morning you found us to put Lopez out of his misery and then shoot myself. You didn't just save our lives by showing up, you saved me from having to do such a terrible thing. So, thank you."

"You're welcome," said Cadmar.

"What did they say about your silence?" I asked.

"After I told them my intentions, they said I would be held in detention. They stripped me and kept me in a kind of solitary confinement for a few days. Then, the night before last, someone let me go. They gave me my clothes, my passport, some yen, and an opportunity to escape. I don't know who let me go, but I suspect it was Lopez."

"You saved his life," said Cadmar.

Sal nodded. "I think he felt he owed it to me. So, I took the opportunity to escape from the cell.

"The Japanese must be genuinely kind people. The first person I came across helped me. He called Becca for me so I could talk to her. I got her to use every dime we had to get her and Gertie to London and buy me a non-stop flight to Heathrow from Tokyo. Mr. Bōsan hid me until the time came for my flight."

"Mr. Bōsan?" I asked. "I think you're a bit confused. I doubt he was Mr. Bōsan. Bōsan means monk; no wonder he helped you."

"Ah! That explains the amused look whenever I called him that. He didn't speak English very well. I think he understood more than he spoke."

"Did you happen to see our friend Major Palmer at some point?" asked Cadmar.

He shook his head. "I've told you everything that I know."

"What will you do now?" I asked.

"I have no idea. When I left the suite to come up here, Becca told me not to come back and threw her wedding ring at me."

"That's a bit harsh," said Cadmar.

"She's from Texas; the blood in her family's veins runs red, white, and blue. She heard what the President said about me; that's good enough for her. As far as she's concerned, I'm a despicable coward and no better than Judas."

"What do you say you are?" I asked.

He paused to think and took a deep breath. "Probably more trouble to you than I'm worth. That's what Rebecca's uncle, Jackson Scott, always said about me."

"What?" I asked.

"Rebecca's uncle is Jackson Scott?" asked Cadmar.

"Yeah. Jackson treats Becca like his daughter. What's wrong?"

"Jackson Scott's been a thorn in our sides before Phalin showed up."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know that; otherwise, I would have said something. But don't worry, it's not like Jackson and I are pals. The way he's treated me, I've been a thorn in his side since the day Becca said, 'I do.' I suspect he's sent me on dangerous missions, hoping that I would have a happy accident."

"It almost worked with the last one," I said. "You knew that he hated you enough to want you dead, but you kept working there?"

"I married Becca during my eight-year stint in the army, I've had four tours in Afghanistan and one in Iraq, so I'm a good soldier, and under normal circumstances, I can take care of myself. When I got out, I didn't want to work for Phalin; I wanted to do something else. I'd had enough of endless war, but she got me the job, and I didn't want to disappoint her."

"Wouldn't she tell her uncle where you are?" Cadmar asked. "If so, that will also lead them to us."

"Should we leave?" asked Sal.

"Maybe," I said. "Would you want to go with us if she and Gertrude stayed on Earth?"

"They're after me now," he said. "I know too much, and I know what they're capable of. I want to live the rest of my life in peace. Apparently, I can't have that here. You saved my life; I'll never forget that. Will the two of you still have me?"

I nodded. "I trust you, so you can come to Jiyū with us."

I chose for us to stay in the penthouse for the next few hours. Cadmar and I spent the remainder of the night sitting on the couch to doze a bit. I gave Sal the bed. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days, and it hadn't taken long before we heard the occasional snore emanating from his direction. I found his genuine and implicit trust in us utterly disarming. He had an inherent likability that caused me to believe that he meant no harm. Evident to me, he had reached his limit with his experience on Jiyū.

As I expected, the previous night's outrage had someone contacting me the next morning. An insistent knock came upon the door. Cadmar said it was a woman that he didn't recognize. Sal kept out of sight, and Cadmar answered the door with his weapon drawn.

A woman, with my height and an auburn pixie cut, wearing a dark gray business suit, expressed indifference to the pistol in her face. "I'm Agent Thorpe with MI5." With caution, Cadmar lowered his weapon while she texted someone on the smartphone she held. She turned to me and presented it. "For you." I didn't recognize the make or model, but it struck me as official in some way and rightly so. As she palmed the phone, it received a call. "It's the Prime Minister," she said.

In my previous contact with the PM, David did all the talking, and I acted merely as support. Speaking to Amanda had been one thing as she was a friend, but the Prime Minister was quite another.

I took a deep breath, the mobile from Agent Thorpe, and answered the call. I couldn't determine how to activate the speakerphone, so that left Cadmar out of the conversation. Agent Thorpe closed the door behind her and waited inside the penthouse.

"Hello."

"Mr. Heiden?"

"This is me. Good morning, Prime Minister."

"Is it?" he asked. "I wish it were. Have you seen the President's speech from last night?"

"Yes, on the rebroadcast."

"Good. I do not know who currently represents Jiyū right now, but the Home Secretary informed me that I should speak to you. Is that correct?"

When he asked, I found myself unable to speak for a moment, and my gut began tying itself into a knot. I left Jiyū to find David; I had gone to Earth for nothing else. However, the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom expected someone to represent Jiyū, and while David had made me his proxy in One City, I wasn't merely representing him should I say Yes. I would replace him, and that felt as though he weren't just missing, but gone.

Did I have a choice? Technically, of course, I did, but the life of a Jiyūvian couldn't hinge on technicalities. If I valued my honor, the decision was made. Cadmar had communicated his position quite clearly; he left me in charge, and I had agreed to that. Still, despite the quasi-predicament in which Cadmar's presence had placed me, at that moment, I couldn't have felt more grateful that he was there.

"Yes, that is correct," I said.

"Good. I hope you understand that I want to give you our full support," said the Prime Minister, "but we need an assurance that you will follow through with the promise to provide the technologies we need. We want to know that you have an investment in our mutual friendship."

"That's understandable," I said. "What about the claims made by the President last night? Are you not curious whether any of it is true, especially about the deaths of those three men?"

"We already know they're lying," he said. "When Mr. Levitt told us of the incident at the portal in Japan, we had it independently verified and obtained samples of the rock left behind to corroborate his story. Our people have assured me that the stones are not from Earth. And depending on how this conversation goes, I will make a media-wide denial of the American President's claims with a release of evidence for the world to see."

"We would appreciate that," I said. "This is too important to keep to ourselves. The truth is our best weapon. As for the technology, I currently have an original of our newest nano-programming device, or NPD. I will give it to you and produce a copy of the plans in a format your systems can read, as well as the software for the device itself. However, I have stipulations on giving it to you. The plans will come all-inclusive, so it also comes with the schematics and instructions to create the isotopic cell necessary to power the device as intended. If I give you what you need to build an isotopic cell, I want to openly give the Americans that information too, and you should want them to have it."

"Why would either of us want that?" he asked.

"The Americans have demonstrated that they can produce a similar cell by analyzing the one in the older model NPD they possess; with Earth's technological ability, the cells are apparently not difficult to build, but they can be dangerous. The ones that the Americans use leak radiation and are somewhat unstable. They're only safe if they're made properly; when made improperly, they can be weaponized. The Americans know this and did so with the reconnaissance drones they sent to Jiyu from Japan. Currently, they only know how to make weaponizable cells. I want to give them the ability to make them correctly, so they can be held wholly accountable for any occurrences rather than giving us excuses."

"In that case, I will agree," he said. "The plans on the dark web do not include a power source, only the electrical information needed to run the device by a source of your own choosing."

"If you built a device based on those plans," I said, "I suspect that you'll discover it won't work. The uploader used a bit of subterfuge. I suspect they wanted to generate interest in the device so they could sell working models for an exorbitant price."

"So, when can we expect to receive the information?"

"David scheduled himself to return tomorrow, so I will give it to Mr. Haywood today. Speaking of enhancements, I have a question. Have you received the Foundational Enhancement?"

"No, I have not," he said.

"Amanda Newton hasn't either," I said. "Has anyone within the British Government received it?"

"I don't know."

"I find that curious," I said.

The prime minister, members of his cabinet, the entirety of parliament, and the house of lords were not above illness (surely someone would want the relief it could provide), and yet he knew of no one who had it. That's when I recalled something that Elena Lombardy said to me. I hadn't thought anything of her seemingly casual comment at the time, but what if it weren't so casual. She said, "I hope it hasn't compromised me." If I had paid more attention, I would have noticed it as a rather specific and telling choice of words.

"Why is that curious?" the prime minister asked.

"You don't think I should find that curious? You don't trust us, do you?"

"It's nothing personal," he said. "I am exercising caution. As the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, I can't afford to compromise myself."

That word again. "And you cautioned the other governmental bodies and their employees to reconsider receiving it based on those grounds."

"Yes, I did," he said. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"So, you left it up to the individual to decide?"

"I cannot speak to what supervisors may have said to their charges, but yes, I did."