The Black Ships (6 page)

She stabbed a finger at him. “You have.”

Washington, D.C.

January 11
^th
, 2026

“T
hey’ll try to use this to bring us down.” Sam followed Parnell into
the Oval Office through the door from the West Colonnade, the smell of
cigarette smoke clinging to both of them.

“Of course they will,” Parnell replied
reasonably. “They’re politicians. We’d be doing the same in their shoes.” He
shrugged out of the jacket, throwing it over the back of one of the ornate
chairs in the seating area. “So, what kind of ammunition will he use this
morning and what will he hold in reserve?”

“Bob might develop a sudden fondness for
limiting presidential powers.” Sam gazed at the Resolute Desk as he mused.
“Practically every president to sit behind that desk has cooked up a war to
boost his numbers and most have done it without congressional permission.”

“So, now that we need to go to war to preserve
the species, he’s going to play a card like that?”

“He might,” Sam answered frankly. “This is
going to be the most important conflict in human history and the Republicans
are itching to be in the saddle.” He looked up as his old friend sat behind the
desk. “And they’ll make sure the public hears how you’ve never worn a uniform
in your life. Not as an attack, mind you, but every Republican pundit on the
talk show circuit will start dropping that little nugget in casual interviews.”

“What about the Scouts?” Parnell’s features
clouded with mock outrage. I used to cut a dashing figure in my little uniform,
I’ll have you know.”

“I’ll have Jack put that into a press
packet right away.” Sam’s face was deadpan. Sometimes it was hard to know when
he was being serious.

“So, that’s their ready ammunition,”
Parnell said. “What do they have in the powder keg? What will they throw at us
when the bill goes up for vote?”

Sam shrugged. “The bill itself.” He was
still working his fingers, restoring circulation after standing outside on a
brisk January morning. “Spending this much cash on a fleet that ends up
belonging to the UN?” He grimaced. “There’s no way in hell the taxpayers are
going to like it.”

The door to the secretary’s office opened,
Parnell’s aide, Thomas, leaning in. “Mr. President, Congressman Cochrane is
here.

“Thank you, Thomas,” Parnell nodded to Sam,
who left by the side door. “Please show him in.” He walked over to the main
door as Bob Cochrane imposed himself on the space. The congressional majority
leader was a huge man, over six feet tall and he carried his two hundred fifty
pounds like an aircraft carrier. The  president shook his hand. “Bob,
thanks for coming on short notice.” He waved the man over to the couches in the
center of the room.

“I think we can dispense with the fencing,
Mr. President and come straight to the matter at hand.” Cochrane eased his bulk
onto the seat with surprising agility. “You want to pass a bill giving eight
Trillion to the UN and you can’t get it through congress unless you get a hell
of a lot of Republican help.” His countenance held no gloating, just the
workaday expression of a man who could round up enough votes to make or break
any Democrat legislation.

The president sat at one of the ornate
chairs that faced down the corridor between the two couches, not wanting to sit
across from Cochrane where he would appear to be an opposing force. He leaned
forward as he spoke. “Bob, you’re right,” he agreed. “I can’t move ahead
without your help and, frankly, given the nature of the threat, we shouldn’t
move ahead divided in any case.” Without even realizing it, he was moving into
speech mode. The lyrical quality, so reassuring and promising of hope, often
surfaced when he was trying to persuade and cajole.

Bob had heard it too many times to be
lulled and he cut in. “Mr. President, you propose spending a third of our GDP
on a fleet that we won’t control. Even worse,” he continued in a cautionary
tone, “it could one day be used against us.” He frowned. “Sir, many of my colleagues
are wondering what exactly you were thinking when you made this deal in New
York.”

Parnell nodded. “It’s a fair question, Bob.
But have they considered the alternatives? They are aware that the
projected
cost is thirty-four Trillion? When has a projected military budget ever come in
on target?” He sighed. “There’s just no way for us to afford that and to build
anything less would be foolhardy in the extreme.” He saw that his words were
having some impact and so he pushed on. “We’re contributing twenty-three
percent of the total budget. The European Union is kicking in twenty-six. China
is covering fifteen percent. We can’t expect the world to come together and pay
for this only to watch us claim it for our own.

“The aliens won’t just come to invade the
U.S., Bob, they’ll come after the whole damn planet and they’ll probably want
it to themselves. This is not the time to worry about who sits in some office;
it’s not the time to worry about partisan politics. We have an enemy at the
gates and we need to meet them as a united species.”  He stabbed a finger
at the huge man. “Can you tell the American people that no ships are currently
on their way? Can you tell them that they won’t wake up tomorrow to see a fleet
blocking out the sun?”

Parnell fought the urge to stand, his
nerves making him want to pace the floor but it would show weakness and he
couldn’t afford it. “Bob, I know you have your doubts about leaving this in the
hands of a man with no military experience, but I’m the man you’ve got so you’d
better learn to work with me.”

“So we let an Illinois lawyer lead us to
war?” Cochrane took a deep breath. “Mr. President, you’re the one part of this
whole equation that doesn’t fit.” He was leaning forward facing to the right
towards Parnell, his arms balancing his bulk. “You plan to commit us to war
with an alien species and you have zero military experience.”

“I seem to recall a story about a country
lawyer from Illinois who occupied the office of President and brought us
through the Civil War,” Parnell said mildly. “And he had no combat experience
either.”

Cochrane jumped on that as Parnell had
hoped he would. “Lincoln was a captain in the Black Hawk War.” He smiled in
triumph. “Perhaps the Illinois school system should do a better job teaching
about local heroes.”

“Bob, I’m glad to hear I can count on your
help in the school standardization bill, but we have bigger fish to fry at the
moment.” Parnell kept his tone light. “Yes, Lincoln was
elected
a
captain by his militia company and later served as a private but he saw no
combat and often said as much.” He was becoming much more relaxed as he thought
of his role models.

“Congressman, I haven’t served in any
military capacity aside from Commander-in-Chief, but I came to that job with
the knowledge that I have to listen to the experts.” He considered for a moment
and then plunged ahead. “My Dad fought in Vietnam and, when I told him I was
running for the state senate, he said he should have strangled me at birth.”
Though he heard nothing, he could see a silent chuckle shake the congressman’s
shoulders.

“I felt the same way about politicians when
I was in the Gulf, flying missions off the
Independence.
” Cochrane said,
his mind suddenly a lifetime away.

“Well, that was the day that I finally
started to learn what my Dad went through.” Parnell wanted to drive his point
home while the majority leader was in the right frame of mind. “After two
decades of silence, he suddenly unloaded everything. I learned about what men
can do when the rules of civilized behavior are stripped away and I learned how
politicians will abandon those men if it means a few more votes.”

“Bob, I have no military experience but
this situation goes far beyond anything in human history,” he spoke calmly. “I
have a staff of military experts, I have the theorists at DARPA and my job is
simple: make their job possible and then get out of their way.” He leaned back
in his chair. “If you plan to jeopardize our way of life for some minor political
gains, then my job is to get you out of the way.”

Bob’s gaze met the president’s and locked.
“Mr. President, exactly what kind of threat are you making?” His eyebrows
lowered a fraction. “You’re hardly in a position to make threats or had you
forgotten who holds the majority in Congress?”

Parnell held Cochrane’s gaze as he
responded. “There can be no doubt that we need to build this fleet. There can
be no doubt that we need to answer the threat.” He draped his arms casually on
the chair, forcing a relaxed pose. “There is no telling whether a similar enemy
fleet is on their way here right now. We can’t afford a single moment of delay
in developing our military capabilities and that is something the American
public can easily identify with. If you think you can stop us and take the
reins, keep in mind that I still have another year to serve and the chances are
good that we’ll be invaded by then.” He smiled wolfishly. “Do you think the
people will think it’s worth the risk? If you hold up this bill, I’ll personally
nail your ass to the barn door in front of the press.”

Cochrane looked uneasy, plainly inclined to
wring every ounce of political leverage he could from this meeting and yet
convinced that the bill was necessary. “It’s going to be a hard sell,” he said
grudgingly. “Even for the twelve measly votes you need me to deliver.”

Parnell hid his surprise.
So he knows we
already have Gillibrand and Murkowski.
“For the love of God, Bob, it’s not
all doom and gloom. We’ll be providing the airship technology that makes it all
possible – that should take a huge chunk of the eight Trillion and keep it
right here.” He raised an eyebrow as he leaned in. “The commercial spinoffs of
a thousand-ton fast freighter alone could give our economy the jumpstart it’s
been needing. Let’s not forget about how much this will accelerate our
fledgling extra planetary economy.

“How about I make it easier?” Parnell was
acting on sudden inspiration but he knew it could work. “I’ll get Jack to set
up a press conference for this afternoon where we lay it  all out - the
cost, the impact on our economy of going solo, the advantages of going out to
fight in Mars orbit rather than waiting here.” He grinned. “You come with me
and we present this as a completely non-partisan plan. It’ll look good on you:
the congressman who put his fellow man ahead of politics.”

Bob gave the tiniest of nods, his face
locked into a tight ghost of a smile; his constituency encompassed Moffett
Field  and all of its employees. “If you had asked me a month ago, I would
never have thought to be considering something like this. Hell, if you asked me
this morning, I would have said the same.” He looked over at the president.
“Let’s get this over with. I'll back you for now." He stood. "I'll
also be watching you. If you screw this up,
I'll
nail your ass to the
White House door and our fellow citizens will thank me for it.

Antioch, California

January 26
^th
, 2026

C
allum McKinnon sat with his cronies at his usual table in the back
corner of the pub. He liked to keep the front door in sight and the kitchen
door was just five feet to his right. It wasn’t that he expected trouble but
his parents had drilled him in field craft since he was old enough to talk and
old habits died hard.

Gary and Susan McKinnon had worked for two
decades with the CIA, slowly growing disillusioned with every passing year. In
1995, they quietly resigned from the agency and moved to Montana with their
three year old son. Callum knew that something that year had been the final straw
but they never spoke of it in his presence, nor would they even tell him where
they were stationed at the time.

They had a hard time at first; Montana was
a land of proud, independent people and it was difficult for two former
government employees to fit in. The fact that they didn’t hide their agency
past did little to help them… in the beginning.

The McKinnon’s set up as writers and
managed to find a small publisher to carry their work. It was almost two years
before a neighbor read one of their books and learned that the two former
agents were staunchly against big government. Their unique perspective, looking
at government from inside its seedy underbelly, really appealed to many of
their neighbors and they soon found themselves fitting in.

Callum may have grown up with a mistrust of
the government, but his dislike of cold weather was even stronger, and he left
for California when he was nineteen. He easily found work as a carpenter, which
left his mind free to ruminate on all that was wrong with the world. At the
freehold, he soon found like-minded friends and they spent their evenings
drinking local beer while discussing the latest atrocities passed by the
government in the guise of law.

From there, it had been an easy step for
Callum to start teaching his new friends the same lessons that he had learned
from his parents. He reveled in their admiration as they learned lessons
usually reserved for field agents. Before long, he was surrounded by a staunch
cadre of friends who could blend into any crowd, spot the alert eyes of an
enemy and take their weapon with an economy of force and movement.

Now, sitting at his usual table, he was
watching the television above the bar. The story was the only news anyone cared
about at the moment - the passing of a bill to help fund the new UN Fleet.
“It’s bullshit,” Callum growled.

“You got that right,” Kevin Frey added.
“There was never any Goddamn aliens.” He waved at Chrissie with four fingers
extended. She nodded and continued on her way. “It’s like you said, Cal; just a
scam to help the UN take over.” The other two members of Callum’s inner circle
nodded their agreement. “Maybe it won’t pass?”

Callum shook his head, biting back a
stronger response. Kevin might not be particularly astute, but he was loyal and
that wasn’t something you took lightly. “They went after Congress first because
that was the Republican majority,” he explained to his friends who nodded
sagely. “The senate is in Democrat hands so he’s leaving it for the end. If he
needs to rework the bill or deal with a poison pill, it saves time not having
to mess around with a sure vote for each round.”

“Bastards,” Kevin said softly as the final
tally came up on the screen. “And America agrees to pay for her own chains.”
The bill had passed the vote and would now be rubber stamped by the senate. “So
now my tax dollars are heading to the UN?”

Callum  chuckled at that. “
Your
tax dollars?” he asked with a grin. “Doesn’t the government have you listed as
unemployed?”

Kevin laughed back as their two friends smiled.
“Fine, my fellow Americans’ tax dollars are being sent to the UN. I’m still
pissed about it.”

“Forget about the tax dollars, Kev.” Callum
waited as Chrissie delivered four pewter mugs of draft. “Did you notice what
Parnell said about our technological contribution?”

Kevin looked blankly at Callum. “You mean
about the orbital airships?” he asked, furrowing his brow. “The ones that can
lift a thousand tons into space at a time? Sounds a little unrealistic…”

“I’ve been checking up on that,” Callum
answered as he leaned in, the rest following his example. “There’re a couple of
consortiums that’ve been working on the idea for a few years now. It looks like
most of the science has been sorted out since the start of the century, but
it’s not the technical side that worries me.  An airship that can take a
thousand tons into space can also drop a thousand tons of armor and troops
anywhere on Earth, runway or not.”

He let his words sink in for a few seconds.
“The UN can drop a platoon of tanks anywhere they want, with supporting
infantry and artillery. That’s what this is all
really
about.” He looked
at the faces that hovered in front of them.
Good, it’s finally getting
through their skulls.
“There’s not going to be any space fleet and you know
it, just those airships and a private UN army.” He nodded to give his own words
emphasis. “And where are they going to build those airships?”