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  So get ready bud, ‘cause they’re coming for ya.

  - S

  Scott glanced over at Emily and Christina, “Should you guys sign it? I mean, it might carry more weight with your signatures on it.”

  Emily shook her head. “The only signature I saw was yours on the letter. I don’t want to mess with time any more than we have to.”

  “Then I declare my Back to the Future Letter complete!” Scott said, looking over at Emily and Christina.

  “All we have to do now is make sure it ends up in Kline’s hands without him realizing it,” Christina added. “Which should be totally easy.”

  “Famous last words…” Emily warned.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nathaniel Ash was working with several terrified employees of the White House. Normally, Ash would have tried to reassure them, try and make them feel better about their situation. But, Ash felt nothing. He was a rote machine, working as ordered.

  The green haze that had settled around his vision shortly after he entered Kline’s employ didn’t bother him as much as it had before. It wasn’t as if he would have complained about the haze anyway. Any sort of complaint would likely be met with death for taking such a piddling matter to Kline. Besides, Ash didn’t need to think much for himself these days anyway, and he was beginning to enjoy that fact.

  He had lived his entire life following orders, but before, he had some kind of input on the orders. Now, as he carried out the orders Kline had given him, the desire to fight his new programming impose on him by Kline’s strange stone of control was slowly waning as he grew used to the control over him and his life.

  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, the voice in his head admitted.

  No, he needed to fight this. Kline was going to kill a lot of people.

  The stones make him too powerful. It is better to submit.

  Submit to Kline? It’s better to die on your feet than submit on his knees.

  There was a flash of pain and Ash cried out clutching his head in agony. Thoughts of rebelling against Kline had triggered a cluster headache. He began screaming in pain and the aide standing next to him dropped the piece of paper he was waiting for Ash to sign.

  Clutching his head, Ash fell to his knees.

  Submit. Life is so much easier.

  “Are you all right?” the frightened aide asked. “Hey, somebody! Captain Ash needs help!”

  Ash held out a hand, “No. I don’t need help. Give me a moment.”

  The cluster headache slowly faded, and Ash pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting back tears.

  He stood, and looked down at the piece of paper in the aide’s hands, “What is it you need?”

  The aide watched Ash, looking at him for any indication he might collapse on him again.

  “These forms are generally signed by the President or her aides, however -”

  “There is no president,” Ash interrupted. “Only Kline, and you’ll do yourself a `favor if you remember that from now on.”

  The aide swallowed, “Yes sir.”

  Ash grabbed the form back from the aide and signed it quickly. “I act as his proxy here, so this ought to suffice. Any problems, have them call me.”

  The aide nodded and took the form back, leaving quickly. Ash watched him leave, waiting for the door to close when he slumped down on the couch. The cluster headache triggered by wanted to rebel had taken quite a bit out of him.

  He looked around the richly appointed office and nudged the Presidential seal with his toe. He’d been inside the Oval Office before and had been so star-struck, he hadn’t had the opportunity to really enjoy the moment. Now that he was here and practically in charge of the entire country (and really, the world at this point), he was thoroughly unimpressed with the world’s most powerful office.

  “Mr. Ash?” Another aide knocked softly at the entrance. “It’s time for your meeting with the governors.”

  “How many arrived so far?” Ash replied.

  The aide swallowed and looked down at the floor, “Fifteen have shown up so far. Governor Walter from Alabama, and Governor Jackson from Florida were the first to arrive and are currently waiting in your office.”

  “Where are the rest?”

  The aide looked uncomfortable, “They declined Mr. Kline’s invitation.”

  Ash sighed. They were in for a long day then. “That means we’ll need to appoint some new governors. The ones who didn’t show up today won’t live to see the sunset. Kline will see to that.”

  Ash stood, wobbling slightly thanks to the leftover pain from his cluster headache, “Where are we meeting?”

  “I have them in the Treaty Room,” the aide replied. “It seemed… appropriate.”

  Ash nodded. The Treaty Room was located on the second floor of the White House, in the primary residence for the president. It was where the treaty for the Spanish-American War had been signed, and had been used as the private study for presidents reaching back to Monroe.

  He stood and walked up to meet with the only two men in America who had decided their lives were still worth living.

  Entering the Treaty Room, Governors Walter and Jackson turned to look at Ash, their faces falling.

  “I thought we were to meet Kline,” Governor Walter said, frowning.

  “I was hoping to get the man’s ear and show him what Florida can offer,” Jackson added. “My constituents are a fickle bunch, but I believe once they see what Mr. Kline is capable of doing for them, they will fall in line.”

  Ash didn’t respond, moving to sit behind the desk, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to say.

  “Governors, by attending this meeting, you are invited to be a part of history. Mr. Kline has authorized me to grant you autonomic powers over your state. Any Armed Forces in your state would be yours to command – depending on attrition rates of course – as well as any income derived from taxes. Kline only requests your total loyalty and participation in whatever future projects he wants to accomplish.”

  Governor Jackson and Hewitt glanced at each other.

  “We would be in total control. No interference from Washington?”

  “So long as your goals are not in conflict with Mr. Kline’s, you can expect our loyalty. Mr. Kline feels that a government that governs least, governs best.”

  “Seems reasonable,” Jackson said, barely containing his glee.

  “What of our colleagues in the statehouse and…” Hewitt shifted uncomfortably in his chair, “And otherwise?”

  “Your fellow governors will be given one last chance to comply and given terms far less generous than the ones you have received.”

  “And if they still do not comply?” Hewitt asked.

  Ash shrugged. “They will be eliminated in favor of someone who will follow orders.”

  “And our colleagues? What of those who do not wish to join us and Kline?” Hewitt pressed.

  “You are authorized to handle them as you wish,” Ash replied, coldly. “You can eliminate them. Make examples of them. Mr. Kline does not care.”

  The Governors glanced at each other as if unsure they could believe Ash.

  “Mister…” The Governor trailed off.

  “It’s Captain Ash,” Ash interrupted.

  “Captain,” the Governor Jackson continued sounding annoyed that Ash had the audacity to remind him of his name and rank, “What assurances do we have that we can act with impunity?”

  Ash stared down the two governors for a moment, letting the silence hang in the air between them. The pair of Governors glanced at each other, growing more uncomfortable by the moment.

  “Captain?” Governor Hewitt asked.

  “I know you both come from backwater states that just got running water, but, I have to assume you have cable in your hotel rooms do you not?”

  The governors glanced at each other.

  “Then you’ve seen what Mr. Kline is capable of,” Ash said this as a statement of fact. “There’s nothing holding him back from wiping the pair o
f you off the planet. I make one phone call, and your life is over.”

  The governor’s eyes grew wide, “Now see here…” Governor Jackson began.

  Ash stood, leaning over the desk in the Treaty Room, glaring down on Jackson, “Kline is your master, and the only man who will escort your backwards ass into the next century. If you are so concerned that you cannot handle your people, tell me now. I already have to replace thirty-five of your colleagues. Two more won’t make much of a difference.”

  Hewitt leaned back, trying to get some space between him and Ash.

  Jackson caught Hewitt’s arm, “Our concern,” he began diplomatically, “is the fact we’ll face some strong resistance from the people, and without some kind of armed force in place, there will be riots.”

  “Call out the national guard,” Ash replied, waving a hand. “The men and women serving in those corps will be perfectly loyal.” Ash rubbed his temple, remembering the piercing pain of the cluster headache he suffered after he tried resisting Kline’s influence over him. “You can trust me on that.”

  The governors glanced at each other before looking back at Ash, nodding. “If we can be assured that the support for our respective administrations in the form of…” he searched for the right word, “military assets are in place, then I see no reason why we can’t work with this White House and its new administration.”

  Ash stared at the governors for a moment before finally breaking into a smile. The Governors relaxed.

  “Excellent,” he pressed the intercom, “Ms. Lasterman, could you bring in the pins for our guests?”

  The door to the treaty room opened and a trim blonde woman wearing a business suit that flattered every curve walked in. The Governors’ eyes followed the beautiful young woman as she brought in two pins, about the size of a half dollar.

  “Gentlemen, you’ll want to remove those flag pins, and replace them with these,” Ash nodded to the pair of pins between them. “The American Flag is no longer the symbol for this country.”

  Jackson picked up the pin, removing the patriotic flag pin he had worn every single day of his career, and tossed it aside, placing Kline’s pin on his lapel. Hewitt’s fingers played with his flag pin for a moment, but he didn’t remove it as fast as his associate.

  “Is there a problem Mr. Hewitt?” Ash’s voice grew dangerous. Hewitt shook his head quickly.

  “No, no, of course not.” He picked up the pin off the table and replaced the flag pin on his lapel. Unlike his fellow governor, he did not toss his pin aside, instead slipping it into his inside coat pocket.

  Ash looked at the two aging governors with a smile. “Excellent. We’re all one big happy family now. Go back to your states, and tend to your gardens. Mr. Kline will be coming to you with further instructions as we get our infrastructure in place.”

  Hewitt and Jackson stood, and holding out their hands for Ash to shake. Ash just stared at them, and they eventually allowed their hands to drop, their faces reflecting the disappointment. Powerful men like these were not used to being disrespected like that.

  “Ms. Lasterman will see you out,” Ash added coldly.

  Ms. Lasterman held open the door, and the two governors exited quickly, lest they lose any more face in front of one another. Ash watched the door close, and he breathed out a sigh of relief.

  The pain began to flare up behind his temples once again as Ash briefly considered just killing himself to get out of what he was doing, but he quickly pushed those thoughts aside, making the pain return to a dull background roar.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. Who knew if Kline could hear him? But Ash figured it was better safe than sorry.

  Ms. Lasterman reopened the door, and she stepped inside. Her face had the same, dull, cowlike expression as every other zombiefied follower of Kline. Ash beckoned her to him, and she obediently came to him. He reached for her, and pulled her in for a kiss.

  She willingly pressed her flesh into his and Ash felt his body respond in kind. At least Kline’s control over him allowed for his reproductive organs to work.

  He grabbed Ms. Lasterman’s hand and took her upstairs to the President’s private residence.

  If he was going to send people to their certain death and corrupt everything he had ever fought for, at the very least, he was going to get something for himself out of it.

  Ms. Lasterman obediently followed Ash into the President’s former bedroom where he closed the door, intent on collecting his prize.

  Chapter Twelve

  Alex wasn’t sure what to expect when he met the Elders, but he wasn’t surprised to see that there were twelve of them. The number clearly had some kind of significance for the Patrons, and after observing the alien species for a few hours now, he thought it may have had something to do with the twelve limbs that stuck out of their spiderlike bodies.

  “Twelve must be the magic number,” Alex whispered to himself.

  The Patron led him into the center of what resembled the many crystal chamber back on Earth, and he stood in the center, a light illuminating him and the twelve aliens positioned around him.

  Alex stood tall, swallowing back the fear and uncertainty. There would be no second chances here. No magic stone to heal him, or to save him at the last minute. Suddenly, Alex felt very naked without the stone that had been his constant companion the last few weeks.

  “You’re the anomaly,” the voice said, coming from his right.

  Alex turned to the Patron located at his 3 o’clock, looking up and nodding. “Well, I’m not so much an anomaly as sort of a science project for you guys.”

  “You wish to keep us off your planet,” the Patron at his 7 o’clock said. “What right do you have?”

  “We were there first,” Alex said.

  “You do not even exist yet. The mammals that may one day lead to your species exist on your planet, but there is no tribal system, no active civilization. It’s even unlikely they have reached a level of sentience yet,” the Patron at his 10 o’clock replied.

  “I’m here now, that’s gotta count for something,” Alex protested. “Look, I know you guys are in trouble, but that’s what I’m here to help you with.”

  “Impossible,” the Patron replied. “There is no such technology available to your species that might keep our star from imploding. Our world will be destroyed. The clock has run out, and it’s time for our civilization to find a new place to go. The expansion of our star has already begun. Our oceans are drying up. Our planet is already overheating and dying. Within a few hundred thousand years, the star will exhaust its hydrogen and will begin expanding, eventually swallowing up our planet.”

  “What about the…” Alex tried to remember what the other Patron had called the Dyson’s Sphere. “The uhh… Egg, I think you call it? You could build it out far enough so that the sun might destroy the planet, but you’d be far enough away to stay safe and warm.”

  A chorus of chirps erupted from around the council as an active discussion began taking place. Alex glanced around, looking at the Patrons arguing with each other. It appeared to him that the Egg was not a settled issue on the council.

  After a moment, a solid THUD echoed through the chamber and the chirping quieted. The 12 o’clock Patron leaned into his light, and was illuminated for the first time since Alex entered the chamber.

  “Your species has an audacious way about it,” Twelve told him.

  Alex shrugged. “Keeps us honest.”

  “Tell us more about your species,” Twelve asked him.

  Alex glanced around at the various other Patrons who were staring with reverence at the Patron addressing him.

  “Didn’t your guys already scan my brain on the way in? Don’t know everything already?” he asked.

  “Indulge us,” Twelve said in a quiet voice. Alex could’ve sworn the alien was smiling at him, but there was no way of knowing if they even had such a thing as a smile.

  “I don’t know where to begin…” Alex said. What should h
e say? Should he give them a history lesson? What was the best way to show him who humanity was?

  And then, he knew exactly how to tell Humanity’s story.

  “Let me tell you about Emily,” he started quietly. “Imagine someone who knows the odds are so long against accomplishing something, and yet, they stubbornly try to accomplish it despite the fact they may fail. Emily is the type of person who exemplifies humanity’s desire to learn and overcome adversity. She devoted her entire life to seek out new lifeforms out in the cosmos such as yourself. In a universe that gives us little to no indication of any life out there she looks for you. She knows the physics available to us say that there’s next to no chance that any alien species could possibly contact us thanks to the incredibly slow speed of light.”

  Alex smiled, “And yet, she chooses to listen to the sky anyway. She represents the best part of humanity in that we are explorers, always reaching out for something greater than ourselves. The next mountain, the next challenge. Not because she’s insane, but because she cares so much about being the type of person the rest of humanity can all look up to and aspire to be better than.

  “And that boils down exactly what humanity is. We’re in a constant struggle to outrun our past in order to improve our future for those who come after us.” Alex said, a tear beginning to run down his cheek, “I’ve watched her grow into one of the strongest, most determined women I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and even if it means I never see her again, I’d die a thousand times just to make sure she lived.”

  The twelve Patrons sat in silence for a moment until Twelve chirped once, withdrawing back into the darkness.

  Both angry and celebratory chirps echoed in the crystal chamber, as a door opened on the right side of the chamber where the Patron who had escorted him into the chamber was waiting. He beckoned Alex with an outstretched limb, and Alex looked around at the arguing aliens.

  He walked out of the chamber, leaving the arguing Patron Elders behind. “Well? Am I baby food?”

  Cee shook his head. “They are allowing you to stay on planet until you are able to return to your planet safely.”