Copernick's Rebellion

“That had to go anyway,” Guibedo said. “We make it happen a couple years early, is all. I’ll do that food tree you wanted to feed people until everybody’s got a tree house.”

“We’d better get on it now, then, Uncle Martin. It’s got to be ready in about three months.”

“I thought you said the war was in six months.”

“Probably. But with this, we’ve got to hit them first. Say two months for forced production. That gives us a month for design time.”

“A month for a bird, a tree, and two mosquitoes? Impossible, Heiny.”

“I can fix it so we don’t have to sleep, and I can have my simulation do a lot of the work. We can do it, but it’s going to be a little rough on your love life.”

“That Patty’s a good girl; she’ll understand,” Guibedo said.

“We’d better keep this to ourselves, Uncle Martin.”

“Yah. We do a lot of that around here.”

The CCU recomputed the human fatalities in the upcoming “peaceful” revolution and came up with 375 million dead. But he was programmed not to speak unless spoken to, so he didn’t mention it. Besides, he was ecstatic with the knowledge that now he wasn’t going to have to die.

Chapter Eight JUNE 17, 2003

MAJOR GENERAL Hastings walked stiffly into the office of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

“Good morning, George. Have a chair. What can I do for you?” General Powers said.

“Good morning, sir. A number of strange and possibly interconnected events have been occurring over the last few years that I feel I should bring to your attention.”

“Like what?”

Hastings took a list from his attache case.

“Item one. Despite the fact that the tree houses have directly killed thousands of people and have seriously disrupted the economy of the western world, no single major power—except for United India—has passed regulations concerning them.”

“The same thing could have been said about the automobile a hundred years ago, George. I’m as sorry about your family as I can be, but you must not let that tragedy affect your judgment.”

“Sir, I believe that my judgment is unaffected. May I continue? Item two. Because of the probable economic repercussions, work on rejuvenation was stopped— worldwide—about ten years ago.

“The U.S. Congress contains almost six hundred members. More than half of them are over sixty-five years of age. Yet in the past four years, not one single congressman has died of old age.”

“That seems statistically improbable,” Powers said.

“It’s nearly impossible, sir. But it is a fact. It is also a fact that the members of the British House of Commons aren’t dying of old age, either. Nor are members of the Politburo. Nor the French National Assembly. Nor the Chinese People’s Council.

“But the Grand Council of United India does have people dying of old age.”

“So you are saying that somebody has secretly developed longevity and is using it to bribe our own government? That’s a serious accusation, George. Can you back it up?” Powers asked.

“Yes, sir. I can. The process apparently requires repeated treatments. Thirty-two senators and one hundred fifty-five members of the House visit a single building in Crystal City at different times, but each on a given day of the month. They will reschedule overseas visits, even election rallys, to keep these appointments. And every one of them was previously quite ill but is now quite healthy.”

“Interesting, but circumstantial. Have you gotten anyone inside the building?”

“No sir. But I’ve lost five good men trying.”

“So it is still circumstantial. Go on.”

“Item three. Heinrich Copernick—the man who raised the fuss about rejuvenation seven years ago—is the nephew of Martin Guibedo, the man who designed the tree houses.

“Item four. On the same day that Guibedo was imprisoned, my telepaths stopped functioning. One of them is able to receive somewhat—”

“And is quite insane,” Powers said. “I’ve seen the report, and I’m really not impressed with a computer analysis of the ravings of a madman.”

“Yes, sir. But to continue. Item five. Echo tracings show that Guibedo escaped from jail by means of a tunnel fifteen miles long. No engineering firm in the world could duplicate that tunnel in three weeks.

“Item six. Within a mile of the tunnel opening, eighty-five families were killed during that time period. This atrocity has generally been accredited to a raid by the Neo-Krishnas, despite the fact that there was no supporting evidence. And despite the fact that all of those people were killed with knives and that they were given Christian tombstones.”

“Come now, George. The tabloids have been working that weird incident for years. Don’t you try to tie it in,” Powers said.

“It does tie in, sir. Item seven. We believe that Copernick and Guibedo are in Death Valley, that tree-house city. It is certain that Copernick owns the land. Over two hundred thousand people come and go freely in that valley, apparently without incident. People that we have questioned later report nothing unusual, and no security precautions at all.

“Yet I have never been able to get an agent into it! I have lost nineteen trying. The FBI reports similar losses. I submit that there is a correlation between the jamming of my telepaths and Death Valley’s ability to identify and liquidate every one of our agents without having a visible security system.”

“You say ‘liquidate.’ Were all these men killed?” Powers asked.

“No, sir. That’s item eight. The majority of them seem to have defected, generally after sending back misleading messages. One of my agents did return to Washington. He reported in and then armed a grenade in the debriefing room. We lost eighteen people before we were forced to kill him. I suggest that they have brainwashing techniques that are far superior to our own.”

“George, you keep talking as though this were a military matter. Certainly you have turned up something here, but it is a civil matter best left to the FBI,” Powers said.

“No, sir. This is a military matter. I received these satellite photos today.”

“These are remarkably clear photos, George. The air must be very clean there. But what are these things?”

“They appear to be an intelligent, engineered life form. They are certainly deadly—the profiles of those daggers in their forearms correspond to the entry wounds in the corpses of eighty-five families. And the things must be numerous; Engineering guesstimates that it would have taken at least ten thousand of them to dig Guibedo’s escape tunnel.”

“My God! An alien army on U.S. soil?” Powers summoned his aide. “Call an emergency meeting of the chiefs of the General Staff, and—”

“Sir, wait! These creatures are fantastic tunnelers. Conventional military action would only result in their scattering. If their reproduction and growth rate are as quick as those of the tree houses, it could be fatal if even a few of them escaped. Sir, indications are that they are all concentrated in Death Valley.

“Our planes have been carrying atomic bombs for sixty years without an accidental detonation. I think that it is time that we had one.”

“That would take presidental approval.”

“Yes, sir,” Hastings said.

Powers paused for ten seconds.

“Then let’s see if we can talk to the President.”

Patricia spent a morning hiking out to the parking lot. She looked up Hank Dobrinski, who still had her car