2 — The Conspiracy
April 4, 2063:
In the harsh light of the Montana sunshine, I could see the destruction caused by … well, whoever it was they'd done a lot of damage, killing a whole bunch of people.
"Goddam ECON," someone muttered from behind me. "How the hell did they find out about the Phoenix?"
Turning round, I beheld Zefram Cochrane — lanky, unshaven and slovenly. "The ECON?" I said, not able to credit it. During the 'war to end all wars', they'd wiped out most of the major cities, but this latest attack … it had been brutal, efficient, yet had almost seemed impersonal, as if human lives were somehow irrelevant. "It's not exactly their style — they always took prisoners from what I remember." I'd only been a kid during the war, and a lot of the memories had passed into the depths of my subconscious.
Zee snorted, raising his omnipresent flask to his lips. He took a noisy slurp of the noxious brew that passed as alcohol in these parts. "It's exactly their style," he grumbled. "They musta found out I was plannin' on launchin' soon." He put his hands on his skinny hips and raised his eyes heavenward. "Why the hell does everythin' happen to me?" he mourned.
"Oh, geez," I grumbled. "Don't waste my time," I added, impatient with the guy. He was an egomaniac who acted like he was the only one with problems. "You'd better check on the Phoenix — whoever attacked was aiming for the silo."
"The hell with the Phoenix," he mumbled, the manic light in his eyes a clear give-away — he was drunk again.
"Then the hell with you, too," I shot back. I walked away from him, away from the shell-shocked residents of this pitiful encampment, and headed toward the missile silo.
I passed several dead bodies along the way, but didn't spare them more than a cursory glance. Even before the war, I'd kept my distance from people — I seemed to be attuned to whatever they were feeling and it had caused me a lot of distress as a little girl until I'd learned to block it out. As a result, I'd never gotten close enough to anyone to be personally affected by their demise.
I made my way into the network of tunnels that led to Zee's ship — the one he said would go faster than the speed of light. Personally, I didn't believe it was possible, but then again, quantum physics was somewhat over my head.
Far ahead of me, I saw two strange men, both pale and dressed like us, approach the Phoenix. The bald one — a handsome, aristocratic-looking man — stroked the hull plating. I felt something … odd coming from him — pride, even awe, maybe? The other one, though … I couldn't get anything from him. Usually, I could feel something, even if I couldn't understand the emotion. It was almost like he wasn't … human.
But before I had the chance to approach them, Lily — Zee's long-time cohort — started shooting at them.
"Hold your fire!" the bald man called out in what sounded like a British accent. Not ECON, then. "We're here to help!"
"Bullshit!" Lily hollered and fired again.
Suddenly, I'd had enough. All the deaths, all the suffering of the last dozen or so years, and now Lily was about to off two more. I couldn't watch and fled from the silo.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Heaving for breath, I leaned against a tree, trying to quell the urge to throw my guts up. I was unsuccessful and fell to my knees, gasping and retching.
A hand touched my shoulder. "Are you all right?" a female voice asked me. There was a hint of some exotic accent, indicating that she was not a local, so I turned round cautiously.
The newcomer was dark-haired and dark-eyed, and there was … definitely something different about her. "I'm … okay," I managed to get out, and lurched to my feet.
Her dark eyes narrowed and she nodded to her companion — a taller strawberry-blonde with bright blue eyes. "Beverly," she said.
"I'm a doctor," the one named Beverly said, taking a weird-looking device out of her pocket. She pointed it at me and it whirred merrily.
I backed off a step. "Scanner?" I said. "I doubt you'll be able to find my records — the FBI building was one of the first to go during the nukes."
"A mild case of theta radiation poisoning," Beverly said, choosing to ignore my paranoid ranting. "Were you in the complex?"
Theta radiation. Zee's warp ship. Lily. These thoughts shot through my brain. I turned back to Beverly and her companion. "If you're really a doctor, you'd better get to the silo. There are people in there."
I felt the warm concern radiate from both females and flinched instinctively — a knee-jerk reaction to strong emotions. To mask my reaction, I pointed in the direction of the silo. "It's over there."
"Thank you," the dark female replied warmly, aiming a beautiful smile at me.
Startled, I smiled back at her, then moved away before I could enjoy the interaction too much. Never mind about these mysterious strangers — I had work to do, a town to help rebuild.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
I wandered into the Crash & Burn an hour or so later, needing something to drink. I went over to the bar-tender. "Jimmy, get me a bottle of water," I said to the uncle-like guy with snow-white hair and a Father Christmas beard.
I winced as Zee cranked up the volume on the jukebox, wondering where Lily had disappeared to. She usually wasn't far away from him. The beautiful dark-haired woman I'd met earlier was sitting near him, staring disconsolately into a glass of the local moonshine, or maybe tequila I amended, as the smell hit my nostrils.
Zee played air guitar vigorously, then sat down with a thump next to the woman. He slid an arm around her. "You're pretty cute, Deena," he slurred, "but you're nuts if you think I'm gonna believe your story."
"It's true," Deena said with obvious exasperation, also slurring her words.
Zee just shrugged and wandered off again.
A tall man with a beard and bright blue eyes walked in. "Deanna!" he shouted above the blaring of the jukebox. She didn't appear to hear him. "Deanna!" he hollered again, then leaned down to the plug and yanked it free of the power supply.
Deena — or Deanna, whatever her name was — turned to him in dismay. "Will; no! Don't turn off the …!"
Too late; Zee threw a half empty bottle of tequila at him and it shattered. "Who told this jerk he could turn off my music?" he inquired thickly.
The woman ran a hand through her hair and pasted on a bright smile. "Will Riker … Zefram Cochrane."
Zee certainly hadn't wasted any time getting friendly with her, I mused. He wobbled over to the woman and sat down next to her. "Friend of yours?"
"Yes."
"Husband."
"No," she said.
Zee grinned maniacally. "Good," he replied. He picked up her glass and dumped the contents, then refilled. "Now this, Deena …".
"Deanna," she corrected, and I could feel both her exasperation and the newcomer's faint amusement.
"This is the good stuff," Zee continued cheerily, and I could feel the shift in his mood.
"Doctor Cochrane …," the beard began — Doctor Cochrane? — stepping up to our resident lunatic.
Zee ignored him and lifted up his glass. "Here's to the Phoenix … may she rest in peace." He emptied his glass with a single gulp, swallowed, then grimaced and pounded the bar with his fist. The woman followed suit — without the pounding, though her expression was even ghastlier than Zee's.
Disgusted, Zee peered at the label, then hurled the bottle over his shoulder to the ground, where it broke. "Okay. That was bad." He rose, and went back around the bar to a secluded storage area.
The woman put her elbows on the bar again and rubbed at her temples. "Will, I think we're going to have to tell him the truth."
The beard — Will, I corrected — glanced warily in Zee's direction. "But if we tell him, the timeline could …".
Timeline?, I thought, wondering if I'd heard correctly. I sharpened my senses, glad that I was hidden out of sight.
The woman — Deanna — raised her head and faced him. "This is no time to argue about time … we don't have the time." She frowned suddenly, as if she'd lost her train of thought. "What was I saying?"
The beard grinned, showing wonderful dimples. "You're drunk."
"I am not," she replied with a dignity marred only slightly by a distinct wobble.
"Yes you are." The grin broadened.
"Look," she countered, using her elbows as support and leaning unsteadily toward him, "he wouldn't even talk to me unless I had a drink with him, and then it took three shots of something called 'tequila' just to find out he was the one we're looking for. And I've spent the last twenty minutes trying to keep his hands off me, so don't start criticizing my counseling techniques!" She jabbed a finger into his broad chest for emphasis.
"Sorry." He couldn't quite repress a grin.
"It's a primitive culture" — charming, I thought acidly although she was probably right — "and I'm just trying to blend in."
"You're blended, all right."
"I already tried telling him our cover story. He didn't believe me."
Who the hell were these people? I wondered if they were connected to those two that Lily had offed in the silo.
"We are getting short of time," Will said. "If we do tell him the truth, you think he'll be able to handle it?"
"If you're looking for my professional opinion as ship's counselor," Deanna pronounced, "he's nuts."
Counselor? A shrink? It had been a long time since we'd seen one of those skull jockeys round this way.
Suddenly, music blared out from the jukebox. Zee beat his fists in the air and stamped his feet drunkenly in time to the music, then gave a little leap and began to play air guitar.
So quietly that only a few could have heard it, there was a gentle thump. The beard turned to face his companion and found her with her face down on the bar, out cold.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Several hours later, the area around Zee's missile silo was a hive of activity. A bunch of strangers had shown up and were now helping Zee to fix up his ship. It was typical of Zee to trust them — sometimes his love for science blinded him to the realities of the world.
Not that he seemed comfortable with all the attention. He was particularly unnerved when a tall lanky man stared at him in a starstruck manner and then asked to shake his hand. I felt his emotional stability — not the greatest at the best of times — take another hit when a short dark man tried to console him. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but it was enough to make Zee disappear.
"Commander; where's Doctor Cochrane?" someone said to the short man. Commander? They were military?
"I have no idea," the man said. "He said that he … needed to take a leak. But that was ages ago."
"A leak?" the woman echoed as if she'd never heard the expression before. Who the hell were these people?
My curiosity got the better of my caution and I approached the two. Although they were dressed like us, they didn't seem like they belonged here. There was a … not naïveté, but a kind of innocence born of ignorance … or blind optimism. "Uh, Commander?" I addressed myself to the short man, who seemed to be in charge. "If I know Zee, he's panicked and taken off." I pointed toward the wooded hills. "He often goes there when he's stressed out."
"Thank you," the man said — these strangers were all so-o-o-o polite. He sighed and slipped his sunglasses onto his nose — presumably to mask his unnaturally pale eyes. "I'd better go find him," he added. "Take over here, Watson."
"Yes, sir," the woman replied. "How d'you propose to find him?" she added curiously.
The Commander tapped his sunglasses. "Elementary, Watson," he said.
I surprised myself once again with a loud guffaw, and both the strangers turned to me. "Excuse me?" the woman said.
I waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind," I said. Books had all but disappeared since the war, so I wasn't surprised they hadn't gotten that reference.
The man chuckled. "I get it," he said. "I'm quite a fan of Sherlock Holmes myself."
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
I heaved the remains of someone's Quonset hut onto the trash heap, glaring balefully at all the strangers running around Zee and his Edsel masquerading as a spaceship. "Why couldn't some of them at least offer to help us?" I complained under my breath.
A dark shadow loomed over me. "What would you like me to do?" a man inquired.
Turning round, I beheld the tall, eminently well-proportioned man I'd seen earlier in the Crash & Burn. He looked strong and healthy — in excellent condition for heaving junk onto the trash heap. "Help me with this thing." I gestured to the Quonset hut sidings, which I couldn't manage on my own. Although I was fairly healthy and lean-muscled, I was very small, and felt even smaller next to this colossus.
His eyes twinkled. "Yes, ma'am," he said obediently. He peered at me. "Are you well?" he added.
"Considering that someone tried to kick the crap out of my town last night, and now the military's swarming all over Zee's ship, I'm just great," I replied pointedly.
The man's smile broadened, giving me a flash of those wonderful dimples. "Fair enough," he responded. He dug in a pack and produced a flask. "It's just water," he added, handing it to me. "It's probably not a good idea to drink the river water."
"Well, duh," I muttered, but not too crossly. After all, he was helping me and he was giving me precious water. I wasn't about to trust him, but if he was going to give away water, who was I to say no? That didn't stop me taking a cautious sniff of the contents before a couple of measured swallows. I was thirsty enough to drain the flask, but didn't want to shock my stomach.
"So, what's the big panic with Zee's ship, anyway? Why does it have to be launched today?" I added, handing the flask back to him.
I felt him withdraw abruptly — he evidently didn't want to tell me. Military types. "I'm not at liberty to tell you," he said.
"Well, at least you're honest," I commented. "I suppose it's classified?"
"Precisely," he said, flashing those dimples once more. "Let's get to work, shall we?"
"Okay," I agreed readily. "Do you at least have a name?" I already knew his name, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"Will Riker," he replied. "You?"
"Charlie," I said. "Short for Charlotte, but Charlie suits me better."
He looked at me appraisingly in my tough denim trousers and rugged leather jacket, and I could tell he agreed with me. "Don't worry; you won't hurt my feelings," I added dryly. "There's no room for overly sensitive people here."
"I can believe that," he replied.
As we worked, I saw Deanna walk unsteadily out of the Crash & Burn, her eyes narrowed against the bright sunshine as if in some pain. I winced at her discomfort, then forced myself to ignore it as she came closer.
"Will," she said, her hair in disarray and her usually musical tones somewhat muted. "If I ever drink again, just kill me and put me out of my misery."
Will flashed his dimples. "Deanna; this is Charlie," he said.
"We've met," I said. "Where's the redhead gone to?" Silence greeted me. "Okay; so that's another thing you can't tell me," I grunted. "And people don't trust the military — I can't imagine why," I added snidely.
All this military secrecy — it was enough to drive any good old-fashioned conspiracy nut to distraction, I mused in disgust as I worked. And when the hell had any military found the resources to rebuild? Nearly every country in the world had been drawn into the war; only a few of the poorer countries like Russia having had the good sense to stay neutral.
Then there was all their talk about the timeline and Zee not buying their cover story. Could they possibly be from a different time? I'd heard weird tales about a huge futuristic spaceship visiting Earth in the late 1960's, but had put it down to the alien conspiracy nuts having a field day.