Read Online Independence Day: Crucible (The Official Prequel) by Greg Keyes - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Greg Keyes
Ads: Link
but his limbs succumbed. Then, mercifully, everything seemed to dissolve.
* * *
He woke surrounded by aliens, but he had been moved into the shade, on flat ground. In the distance, he saw rain moving across the savanna, slanted streaks of gray against a yellow sky. Nearer, a herd of wildebeest grazed as if nothing unusual was happening.
Then he understood what was casting the shadow.
The ship, rising above them, unimaginably huge. If he didn’t know what the alien craft looked like from television—if he hadn’t seen this one from afar—he knew he would never even be able to guess at its shape, any more than a flea in the folds of an elephant’s skin could comprehend the appearance of the entire animal. They were near one edge of it, and from there it seemed like a vast gray sky that faded in the distance behind them.
Bakari sat to his left, Zuberi across from him.
“What’s going on,” Dikembe groaned. “What are they doing with us?”
“Waiting for us to wake up, I think,” Zuberi said.
The words had hardly fallen from his mouth when Dikembe felt a tentacle wrap around his neck. He grasped it with both hands, but it might as well have been made of steel for all that it gave to his strength.
His entire body suddenly felt pins and needles.
Then the pins and needles pushed all the way to his bones, and he was distantly aware of his own voice, a thing apart from his body, a scream that was like a living thing. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before; it was total, without relief. His blood vessels were rivers of fire, his marrow was magma. He felt his skin splitting like an overcooked sausage and his flesh liquefying. A thousand voices mocked him, insisting he was nothing, lower than the lowest worm. He hoped only for death, for the release it would bring.
When oblivion finally arrived, he was grateful.
* * *
He woke, still in the shadow of the ship. His body was whole, untouched, but he still remembered its destruction.
Bakari was awake also, starring at him, glassy-eyed.
“Why?” Dikembe managed to wrench out. His throat was raw, and when he spat, his phlegm was bloody.
“They tortured all of us,” Bakari said. “And then they released Zuberi.”
“They’re trying to make Papa come here,” Dikembe suddenly understood. “They think if they kill him, this will end, and they will be unopposed.”
“I believe you’re right,” Bakari said.
“He’ll know it’s a trap,” Dikembe said. “He won’t be stupid enough to come himself. The smart thing would be to use our remaining surface-to-surface missiles to take all of this out.”
“That would kill us, too,” his brother said.
“We’re dead already,” Dikembe replied.
Bakari started a reply, but instead his eyes went wide.
“No!” he said. “Not again!”
Then the tentacles wrapped around their necks once more, and the pain became everything.
* * *
David managed to keep it in until they got home and he had mixed himself a gin and tonic. When Connie came in to sit with him, he had to let it out.
“You knew!” he said. “You knew they were going to ambush me with this.”
“I hardly think asking you to be the director of the organization you want them to build for you constitutes an ‘ambush,’” she said, sipping her Scotch calmly.
“It’s not about me,” he said. “That’s the point.”
“Oh, David, come on. You’re like a kid in the biggest toy box in the world. You’re loving it.”
“Sure,” he said. “But director? That’s politics. That’s bureaucracy. That’s red tape. That’s not the toy box.” He frowned. “Is this the thing again? You always wanted me to be a part of something bigger, more important. I have to be director of an international agency now?”
“David,” she said, “I’m not pushing you into anything. You saved the world. I don’t think you have anything to prove to me or anyone else. But I do think you would make a hell of a director.”
He absorbed that,
* * *
He woke surrounded by aliens, but he had been moved into the shade, on flat ground. In the distance, he saw rain moving across the savanna, slanted streaks of gray against a yellow sky. Nearer, a herd of wildebeest grazed as if nothing unusual was happening.
Then he understood what was casting the shadow.
The ship, rising above them, unimaginably huge. If he didn’t know what the alien craft looked like from television—if he hadn’t seen this one from afar—he knew he would never even be able to guess at its shape, any more than a flea in the folds of an elephant’s skin could comprehend the appearance of the entire animal. They were near one edge of it, and from there it seemed like a vast gray sky that faded in the distance behind them.
Bakari sat to his left, Zuberi across from him.
“What’s going on,” Dikembe groaned. “What are they doing with us?”
“Waiting for us to wake up, I think,” Zuberi said.
The words had hardly fallen from his mouth when Dikembe felt a tentacle wrap around his neck. He grasped it with both hands, but it might as well have been made of steel for all that it gave to his strength.
His entire body suddenly felt pins and needles.
Then the pins and needles pushed all the way to his bones, and he was distantly aware of his own voice, a thing apart from his body, a scream that was like a living thing. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt before; it was total, without relief. His blood vessels were rivers of fire, his marrow was magma. He felt his skin splitting like an overcooked sausage and his flesh liquefying. A thousand voices mocked him, insisting he was nothing, lower than the lowest worm. He hoped only for death, for the release it would bring.
When oblivion finally arrived, he was grateful.
* * *
He woke, still in the shadow of the ship. His body was whole, untouched, but he still remembered its destruction.
Bakari was awake also, starring at him, glassy-eyed.
“Why?” Dikembe managed to wrench out. His throat was raw, and when he spat, his phlegm was bloody.
“They tortured all of us,” Bakari said. “And then they released Zuberi.”
“They’re trying to make Papa come here,” Dikembe suddenly understood. “They think if they kill him, this will end, and they will be unopposed.”
“I believe you’re right,” Bakari said.
“He’ll know it’s a trap,” Dikembe said. “He won’t be stupid enough to come himself. The smart thing would be to use our remaining surface-to-surface missiles to take all of this out.”
“That would kill us, too,” his brother said.
“We’re dead already,” Dikembe replied.
Bakari started a reply, but instead his eyes went wide.
“No!” he said. “Not again!”
Then the tentacles wrapped around their necks once more, and the pain became everything.
* * *
David managed to keep it in until they got home and he had mixed himself a gin and tonic. When Connie came in to sit with him, he had to let it out.
“You knew!” he said. “You knew they were going to ambush me with this.”
“I hardly think asking you to be the director of the organization you want them to build for you constitutes an ‘ambush,’” she said, sipping her Scotch calmly.
“It’s not about me,” he said. “That’s the point.”
“Oh, David, come on. You’re like a kid in the biggest toy box in the world. You’re loving it.”
“Sure,” he said. “But director? That’s politics. That’s bureaucracy. That’s red tape. That’s not the toy box.” He frowned. “Is this the thing again? You always wanted me to be a part of something bigger, more important. I have to be director of an international agency now?”
“David,” she said, “I’m not pushing you into anything. You saved the world. I don’t think you have anything to prove to me or anyone else. But I do think you would make a hell of a director.”
He absorbed that,
Similar Books
