Dawn of the Mad (38 page)

“Why are you telling me all of this? I have a low-level job at the Sector Seven police HQ. So they have some clones. Albeit, they’ve neo-Nazi biker clones, but why should I really care, Sebastian? Apparently, these clones helped win the war for you.”

After a heavy sigh and a brief pause, Cruwell continued. “I’m telling you because they will come for you soon.”

“What?” Johnny asked, both confused and astonished. Cruwell hesitated, as he looked up at the night sky through the magnetic shield. “War is coming again, Johnny.”

“And? It seems like you guys like war. Like you’re all mad and pissed off at everything.”

Cruwell continued staring straight up into the night sky. “The war is coming to your home planet.”

Roman’s face went ashen as he realized what Cruwell just told him. “You’re kidding,” was all he could say, but down inside, he knew that Cruwell was dead serious. A twisted realization slowly began to dawn on him. He remembered the supreme chancellor saying that he wanted to learn everything about Earth. Everything that had happened so far was for a reason that could fit into this pattern. They kept tabs on him by giving him a job. Hell, Natasha might even be in on it.

“No, I’m not kidding,” Cruwell said. “Johann is in charge of coming up with an assault plan. Because he is now a marshal, he has immense power. Because we have re-absorbed the rest of our small empire, we have a fairly sizable naval force now. The enemy saw the effects of our new weapon and wants no part of it.”

“I can’t believe it. I mean, Earth is kind of a dump anyway, but it’s still home. I have friends and family there. I couldn’t imagine those things running around eating people and destroying everything in their path.”

“Believe it. It’s going to take a while, but preparations have been made. The supreme chancellor wants to extend his reach as far as he can before he dies.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Cruwell turned to face Roman, who was still sitting back on the bench. “You have to be careful, Johnny. They will try to use you for information. If the Auger-Seers are locked onto you, they may even use that girl of yours against you. They are capable of many things, and their sight is far reaching. I’ll be in contact when I can.”

Roman stood up and looked directly into Cruwell’s red, bloodshot eyes that made it appear as though he hadn’t slept in days. “Thanks for telling me. It means a lot.”

Cruwell simply nodded and walked off, leaving Roman alone on the bench, his mind racing at a hundred miles an hour. He thought about his family and friends and what might happen to them. It was too overwhelming. He slowly got up and headed back toward his apartment. Keeping Cruwell’s cautions in mind, he took a detour into a bar that had opened recently. As he entered, he noticed that it was pretty much empty. He sat at the bar and asked the barkeep for the strongest thing he had. Roman smiled with irony as the barkeep poured him Johann’s beverage of choice. He looked for second at the tall glass, filled with murky, rust- colored liquid. He paid the barkeep and took a sip, flinching a little as the liquid burned his throat going down.

Roman pulled the blanket over his head as Natasha raised the sunshade and let the morning sunlight creep in. Roman groaned as he felt the consequences of the previous night are drinking.

“You sound pretty bad there. I’ll put some coffee on for you.”

Roman pushed Morris off of him and sat up in bed, his face buried in his hands. “I don’t remember coming in last night.” He looked up at Natasha. “When did you get here? I didn’t do anything stupid, did I?”

Natasha returned with a cup of coffee and handed it to him. “You asked me to come over. It was late, but you looked bad on the screen, so I came. You were rambling on about your planet being destroyed. It was pretty incoherent before you passed out.”

“I’m really sorry to have put you through that.” He set his coffee down on an adjacent table and lay back down on the bed. Morris jumped up on his stomach and began to purr. Roman stroked the cat behind his ears as Natasha scratched his back. She looked at Roman, staring into those hazel eyes she loved getting lost in.

“Are you OK, Johnny? I’ve never seen you act this way before.”

Roman sighed heavily and peered out of the window, watching the day outside grow brighter. He looked at Natasha and brushed her hair out of her face.

“Yes… Everything is fine.” Roman stroked her hair and smiled. “Everything will be OK.”

CHAPTER 35

Lately, sleep hadn’t come easily for Johnny Roman. He was wide awake, staring at the numerous cracks in the ceiling, when his intercom alarm went off. He grabbed the video screen lying on his nightstand and activated the video monitor switch. A Gestapo-looking figure stood outside his apartment building in the rain. Roman wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, but the figure’s face was obscured by his trench coat collar turned up and his hat pulled down. Roman threw off his sweat-soaked sheet and sat on the edge of the bed. His bedside clock read 4:23 a.m.

The figure on the video screen spoke, the urgent voice slightly obscured by thunderclaps and the sound of torrential rain.

“I am Colonel Brenneke. I apologize for this disturbance, but I am afraid you will have to come with me.”

The request, and at such an unusual hour, took Roman by surprise. “4:23 in the morning? This can’t wait?” Roman waited for an answer, but the dark figure outside just stood patiently. “What the hell for?” he continued.

“Please comply. I do not wish to use force.”

“Whatever,” Roman muttered. He stood up slowly and stretched. Placing the video screen back on the nightstand, he walked to his front door. The lights came on, activated by his movement. “Dim,” Roman said to the system, and the lights instantly reduced their intensity. He activated the video screen mounted by the door and pushed a green access button that opened the main lobby door. He hit the intercom button. “It’s open.” The figure outside gave no reply but entered the apartment building.

Roman noticed that he was followed by several other figures that had not been visible on the video earlier, arousing his curiosity even further. A few minutes later, the door buzzer rang. Roman activated the door, and it slid quietly to the side. The man who had called himself Colonel Brenneke stood in the doorway. Although he called himself a colonel, his black peaked cap and trench coat showed no military insignia. Roman had a sickening feeling he was dealing with an officer of the ISSB, the same intelligence organization that his friend Sebastian Cruwell worked for. He wondered if he had any friends left anymore. He also wondered why he was asked to let them in when they could simply have bypassed the security grid and entered unannounced.

“May I enter?” the man asked quietly.

Roman looked beyond him to see six other masked and helmeted troopers in the hallway, waiting by the turbo lift, wearing tactical armor with rifles at the ready. They wore matching uniforms, but none of them displayed insignia.

“Is all of this necessary?” Roman asked. “This isn’t a crack house.” The words rolled off of his tongue acidly, but the colonel did not respond. The two men stared silently at each other for a moment. Roman felt his shoulders tense, noticed that the colonel had his right hand inside his trench coat, no doubt fingering a hand cannon.

“Be my guest,” he said, gesturing inside the apartment with his hand. Roman stepped back and walked to the kitchen. The colonel followed him in slowly, looking around the small efficiency apartment as he did. Roman stood behind the kitchen counter and removed a cigarette from a pack on the counter. He had a pistol in a top drawer just in case. The colonel removed his hat and shook it, sending beads of water flying. The remaining troopers did not enter, but Roman could still see them, just outside the door. The colonel replaced his hat on his head, covering his short flattop haircut.

Roman remained silent as the colonel spoke. “I am afraid I do have to take you with me to answer some questions regarding your relationship with your girlfriend.”

Roman placed his hand on the drawer handle. “Do you care to explain why?”

The colonel turned to the doorway and nodded. The tactical troopers entered and immediately spread out. Roman saw one of them remove a pair of hand restraints from his belt. The men did not aim their weapons at him, but they looked ready to do so in an instant.

“I hope you do not try to fight your way out of here, Mr. Roman. We just want to talk. Your girlfriend has ties to a terrorist cell that is under surveillance as we speak. We were hoping we could appeal to your, ah … sense of duty. Please, come with us.”

“I don’t suppose I have any rights here, do I?” he asked the colonel sarcastically. He already knew he had none, especially if the ISSB had business with him. It seemed that they needed something from him; if they didn’t, he would be dead already.

Still, he thought, the situation was not favorable. He might get a shot or two off at the colonel, but he was most likely wearing armor. The troopers had him, though; there were too many of them. Sebastian was right: Nothing was what it seemed anymore. There was no way in hell Natasha was a terrorist. Roman removed his hand from the drawer handle.

“OK. You win. At least let me put some pants on.”

When he turned toward the bedroom, Brenneke’s troopers rushed Roman, taking him to the floor. Within seconds he was handcuffed, with a hood placed over his head. He yelled and cursed but was quickly silenced by a shock baton to the head, rendering him unconscious. As two of the troopers dragged Roman out, holding him upright between them, the rest of them followed, with Brenneke in the rear. The entourage quickly boarded the turbo lift, left the building.

“Cigarette?”

Roman slowly came to. The first thing he noticed was a throbbing pain on the back of his skull. The bright desk light shining in his face didn’t help one bit. He noticed that he was handcuffed to metal chair in which he was propped. He didn’t recognize the man sitting on the desk, facing him, although he recognized the black ISSB uniform.

“Yeah. Sure. And maybe you could explain why I’m here.”

“Of course. Your service to our society hasn’t gone unnoticed.” The man unlocked the restraints. Roman rubbed his wrists and took the offered cigarette from a silver holder. After the man lit it, he inhaled deeply, and sat back into the chair. He grimaced as he exhaled, still not quite used to synthetic smokes.

“We need information from you regarding your home planet.”

“Information? All you had to do was ask. What do you want to know, who won the World Series last year, or what?”

The man got up from the desk and walked to a mirror. He dropped his cigarette and put it out under his boot. “I want you to tell me about your planet’s military capabilities, weapons, and space capabilities. These are the subjects I wish to discuss with you.”

Roman looked at the man with disgust. “I thought this had to do with Natasha being a terrorist.” Seeing the blank look on his interrogator’s face, Roman was more confused than ever. Why had Colonel Brenneke told him that story?

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll play your game for a bit. I’ve been asked all that before. I told you, I don’t have those answers. I was a police officer, same as I am here.”

The interrogator turned away from the window and again sat on the desk, opposite Roman. He withdrew another cigarette, lit it, and inhaled. He continued, “Mr. Roman, I know you are lying. You have been under observation for quite some time. If you do not tell me what I need to know, I can make things very difficult for you.”

Roman stood up and walked to the mirror, knowing quite well someone was on the other side. “Very well, I will tell you. My planet is quite advanced. We have a massive space fleet of star destroyers. If by chance you managed to get through that, we have armies of robots as well as vampires, and we can raise the dead as well.”

A robed figure stood in the shadows in the next room, looking through the one-way mirror at Roman. He spoke to two uniformed men also watching the interrogation. They listened as Roman continued to spin tales about Klingons and an orbiting battle station called the Death Star.