It was dark now, outside, with ever fewer houses or artificial lights visible by the side of track. The cold night air coming through the window became ever cleaner, as the conveyance continued its noisy journey in the direction that Earthlings called north.
Chapter 25
Junea entered the White House and was shown to a room where a group of Earthlings were sipping toxic chemicals. The hideous diminutive male whom the Earthlings regarded as their primary chieftain approached her.
“Ah, Ambassador Junea,” the President said. “So good of you to come.” He held up his cup of liquid brain poisons. “Would you care for a drink?”
Junea shuddered. All around the room, neurons were snapping in the Earthling’s brains, creating a near-deafening telepathic crackle. “No, I’m sorry,” she said politely. “Perhaps another time.”
“Are you sure?”
Junea nodded her affirmation.
“Too bad. This is mighty good stuff. Well,then, to your health.” With that, the despot dumped the contents of his cup down his throat.
The dose was easily enough to cause massive brain damage. Junea watched with amazement as the man smiled while dozens of his central neuronal junctions dissolved.
The President snapped his fingers. “Boy, bring me another drink.” A rather good looking small boy approached, carrying a tray loaded with more toxic drinks. The boy had auburn hair, and unlike most Earthlings, his teeth were unmutilated. His only clothing was a red loincloth.
“Help me!” the boy thought at her with clear telepathic diction. “I’ve been kidnapped.”
Junea’s jaw dropped. The boy was a Weegee!
The President took a drink off the boy’s tray with one hand, and tou- sled his hair with the other. “So, Ambassador, I see you are admiring my ward here. A goodlooking specimen, don’t you agree?”
“This boy is not an Earthling,” Junea said simply.
“No, that’s plain to see. You know,I’ve always enjoyed the company of pretty children, and well, with you Weegees being such a good-looking bunch, it’s been my hope for some time to add one of your little tykes to my household. So when I heard there were possibilities for interstellar adoptions, naturally I spared no expense. I have a Central too, and my wife keeps a matched pair of two little Norc girls at Camp David, but I must say that this one is myfavorite.”
Junea was dumbstruck. “Are you telling me that you are buying human children from interstellar slave traders?”
The President smiled, accentuating the sickening effect of his horrible teeth. “Now really, there is no reason to use such harsh language. What’s in a name? One man’s slave trading company is another man’s adoption agency.”
Junea tried to sound firm. “You must release these children at once.”
“I don’t see why. We paid the required adoption fees, so our custodial relationship is quite legal. I must say that those bluebacks that you and your friend Fredpis have so generously provided us really do come in handy.”
Thesavage’s impudence was incredible. He was willfully rubbing his ability to blackmail her into her face. “The Commercial Consul’s name is not Fredpis, it’s Fedris,” she offered by way of weak rebuttal.
“Whatever.”
Well there was no point dwelling on the matter of kidnapped children. Children were kidnapped all the time, and so long as some were available for sale, there always would be those with bluebacks willing to buythem. Whether they were disposed of here or on some other Southern Sector stinkhole made very little difference. It was better not to get involved with such things. She had matters of state to attend to.
Junea gathered all her ambassadorial dignity to present her message. “I have come to demand the release of the Northern Confederation Priestess 3rd Class Urania. She is part of the Universal League Scientific and Cultural Commission, and must be returned immediately. The Minervan 3rd Class Priestess Aurora was also under Western Imperial protection at the time she was taken, and if she is still alive, must also be released.”
The President shrugged. “I wish I could help you out there, Ambassador, but we don’t have either of them.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have them? I saw your people grab Urania.”
“You oversimplify, Madame Ambassador. A group of Americans did apprehend the Norc priestess, that is true. But those involved were not officials, agents, representatives, or employees of the United States government.”
“Then who were they?”
“Theology students.”
“What are theology students?”
“Students of the ways of God.” the President intoned. “Pious young men who have devoted their lives to the pursuit of the principles of goodness.”
Junea’s head swam with the absurdity of the despot’s statement. Apparently he was claiming that Urania was captured by a group of male priestesses in training. She tried to focus on getting to the essential facts. “So, do you know where they are holding her?
“Yes. They have her in the basement of the Cathedral of Saint John the Divine, in New York City. We have the place surrounded with police, but it would be much too risky to attempt a rescue. However, they are willing to negotiate her release.”
Junea arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really. What are their terms?”
“The Priestess Urania will be released unharmed if the Western Galactic Empire uses its fleet to reduce the Minervans with a psioray assault, just like you did to the Peruvians. It seems like a fair demand to me, treat them both equally.”
Junea shook her head. “Unfortunately, I don’t believe that proposal would be acceptable to my government.”
“Okay,” the President said. “I think that was just their going-in position. My guess is that they would settle for a brief helicannon bombardment of New Minervapolis.”
“I doubt very much the Princess Minaphera the 245th would be will- ing to entertain such an idea.”
“Then how about a simple cutoff of all WGE aid to the Minervans? Surely you can agree to at least that much.”
“While I appreciate that as a constructive suggestion for resolving this crisis, I do not think that our administration would be inclined to considerit.”
“Why not?” The President slammed his little fist down on one of the little platforms made of murdered tree fragments that the Earthlings used to adorn their rooms.“Don’t they care at all what could happen to Urania? She’s so young, so beautiful. Her whole life was ahead of her. All you have to do is stop supporting Minervan cruelty and she could go free!”
“I agree that our current policy with respect to the Minervans may be worthy of review. However, I must tell you that the need to ransom an allied citizen being held hostage by savages is unlikely to compel our Empire to adopt a newforeign policy.”
The President frowned. “Ambassador, I’m surprised at you. The United States is a grand civilization of 300 million people. Describing us as savages shows great insensitivity on your part.”
“I apologize if I have given offense,” Junea said dryly. “I didn’t real- ize that savages objected to being called savages. Nevertheless, my point stands. The Imperial court will not be intimidated by such tactics.”
The President pursed his lips. “Poor Urania,” he said.
Junea nodded. Poor Urania indeed. The thought of a civilized human being forced to endure captivity at the hands of Earthling savages sent shivers up her spine. But the President had only provided an answer to part of her inquiry. She prodded for the rest.
“And what of the Minervan? Is she also being held by the theology students? Or,” Junea kept her hope concealed—having the Minervan return to report what had occurred at the airport could be very inconvenient—“is she dead?”
“Neither,” the President said. “She murdered two of the students and escaped from the airport. We have an all-points bulletin out for her. I hope you understand that, given her crime, we cannot be expected to honor any diplomatic immunity. She will be caught, and if she survives the
capture process, given a fair trial, and then beexecuted.”
“The Western Galactic Empire has no desire to interfere in local law enforcement matters,” Junea said reasonably. “Do what you must.”
“Well, I’m glad we see eye-to-eye on that. Ambassador Junea, I must say that it has been a pleasure working with you and your government. Acting as a team, we have successfully put an end to the Peruvian planet assassins. But I am afraid that unless the root problem is dealt with, there is sure to be moretrouble.”
Junea arched an eyebrow. “The root problem? What might that be?” “The Minervans,” the President said. “So long as the Minervans occupy Kennewick, no one on Earth can ever be happy. Indeed, the Minervan takeover of Kennewick is an affront to the entire Southern Sector. Christians everywhere are enraged. In order to prevent them from taking matters into their own hands, we, along with a group of other responsible Southern Sector governments, have decided to take the sym- bolic action of raising the price of all helicity exports by a factor of ten. However,…”
Junea was startled. “You’re doing what?”
“Raising the price of helicity,” the President said calmly. “By a fac- tor of ten.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Oh, we most certainly can. We have formed an Organization of Helicity Exporting Planets, and together we have decided to alter the price. I’m sure you’d agree the previous price was too low to reflect true product value.”
“Perhaps,” Junea said. “But a tenfold increase! It will cause econom- ic devastation. The cost of interstellar transport will go through the Red Limit.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it. As I said, it’s just a symbolic action to show our citizens we are doing something to call the attention of the galactic superpowers to the illegal oppression the Minervans are inflicting on the Kennewickians. As soon as the Western Galactic Empire does something to remedy the situation,I’m sure the price can be brought back down to a more reasonablelevel.”
Junea was in shock. The savages were threatening to bring down the entire galactic economy. Sacrificing the Minervans would indeed be a small price to pay to prevent such a result, but Junea knew that the pride of the Minapheras—Empress, Queen, and Princess—would never allow them to accept such an expedient. And the worst part of it was that the savages’ price increase would make impossible the large mark-up Fedris had arranged for their sectoral helicity concession, which would result in a large drop in her own personal income. Something had to be done to prevent such an outcome. Somehow the savages needed to be made to see reason.
“Mr. President,” she began carefully.“I want you to know that I sympathize with the plight of your people. However, as one experienced in the ways of the Western Galactic Imperial Court, I would like to advise you. Your helicity embargo could give you some leverage, that is true, but…”
The President interrupted her.“You betit’s true, baby,” he said with a grin. “You may have the starships, but we’ve got the stuff that makes ’em go. We’ve got your Empress over abarrel.”
Junea shook her head. “Don’t overplay your hand. The dynasty of Minapheras have not ruled the galaxy’s greatest empire for 10,000 years for nothing. They will not allow themselves to appear to be coerced into accepting defeat on a matter of principle. And for better or worse, Minervan survival is currently seen as a matter of principle. Therefore, if you insist on their outright elimination, the Minapheras will not budge. But you can make progress towards eventually getting what you want, if you are willing to compromise.”
The President was curious. “What kind of compromise?” “Don’t demand all of Kennewick back. Take half.”
“Half? Why half?”
“Half for the Minervans, half for the Kennewickians. Put it that way, and instead of seeming like bloodthirsty savages mindlessly pursuing Minervan extermination, you can present yourselves as reasonable people seeking a just solution foreveryone.”
The President appeared thoughtful. “Half is not enough. But I sup- pose if we choose the right half, we could make it a lot easier to push them out of the other half later. That is the idea, right?”
Junea said nothing. For an uneducated subhuman savage, the President was remarkably astute.
The President looked at Junea. “As a fallback strategy, I might con- sider it. But we want to try the direct approach first.We’ve got a few moves we can make that should increase the pressure enough to get immediate results. Sowe’ll go with our current game-plan. And, Madame Ambassador, I expect you to be a team-player, if you get mydrift.”
Chapter 26
It was Columbus Day.
Being a patriotic family, the Hamiltons celebrated Columbus Day as they did all other patriotic holidays—with a turkey dinner. They thus had turkey on Washington’s Birthday, Lincoln’s Birthday, Easter, VE Day, Memorial Day, Independence Day, VJ Day, Columbus Day, Armistice Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. Those were the official turkey holidays. But in addition, they also had one on St. Patrick’s Day, which was somewhat unusual, since St. Patrick’s Day was a Catholic holiday, and many people viewed Catholics as non-mainstream schismatics. But Dad had several Irish-American Catholics in his platoon back in his ’Nam days, and he said they were real Americans, true fighters for the red, white and blue, and that was good enough for him. He would therefore honor their saint accordingly. Sally Hamilton was glad her father was so open-minded. Most people she knew were not.
The teenage girl eyed the expertly-cooked bird sitting at the center of the table and sat patiently as thefamily’s ancient phonograph blared a sad song from an even earlier age.
“We shall meet, but we shall miss him.
There will be one vacant chair.
We shall linger to caress him,
As we breathe our evening prayer...”
There was indeed a vacant chair at the table. Andy had been missing in action for more than five months now, vanished without a trace along with the rest of his regiment in the battle of May 1. The government had called it a great victory. He had died but had sent the Minervans a message they would never forget, or so the letter from the Defense Department had said. Those words left a bad taste inSally’s mouth. It did not seem worthwhile to lose your big brother just to send someone a message.
The letter had come within two weeks of the battle. At first the family had held out hope, but as the months had gone by, they had gradually become resigned to the truth. But still, there was the vacant chair.
Sally hated the song, not for its musical deficiencies, but for its strengths. It was so powerful in its melancholy, it made a painful situation much worse. Why had Mom insisted on playing it at their Columbus Day dinner? Why had Dad agreed? It was tearing them all to pieces, Mom most of all.
Sally looked on the floor. Blackie, their Labrador retriever lay there, where the kitchen linoleum met the dining room wood. His head was down on his paws, and the sad look on his face reflected that of those seated at the table.
Blackie lifted an ear, then suddenly ran back through the kitchen and started barking hysterically at the back door. At first her parents tried to ignore him, buthe was too loud. The solemn hearing of “The Vacant Chair” would have to wait.
Her father scowled. “Sally, can’t you get your stupid dog to behave for just one evening?”
That wasn’t fair. Blackie had been Andy’s dog, and he was the one responsible for the Lab’s mediocre training. She had just inherited the orphaned pet. But there was no point bringing that up. “I think someone is in the backyard,” she said simply.
Dad grunted. “Yeah. It’s probably another beggar poking around to see if there are still any apples left on or under the tree. I’ll get my gun.”
“Oh, dear, don’t bother,” Mom pleaded. “There’s nothing back there worth stealing.”
Her father stood up. “I know, butit’s the principle of the thing. Those bums need to learn to respect the property of people who work for a living. I’ve nothing against helping the
unfortunate. But they need to do their begging openly, and honestly, in broad daylight. Skulking about in other people’s backyards at night and taking what they think we don’t need isn’t begging, it’s stealing. Someone needs to put a stop to it.”
Mother sighed.“Yes, but listen to Blackie. Remember how he used to bark like that whenever Andrew would come home? When I hear him barking that way I can almostimagine....”
Her father shook his head. “It’s not him, Martha. Our son is dead. You’ve got to learn to accept that.”
Mother snapped.“And whose fault is it that he is dead? Who told him to join the Army? Who told him about all the great times he would have? Who told him it was his patriotic duty?” She looked at father with unan- swerable accusation. “Who? Who?”
Father looked sadly at mother. “I never thought,” he said. “If I had known...”
There was the sound of the screen door behind the kitchen opening, and Blackie went totally wild.
“Jesus Christ,” Dad cried. “They’re breaking into the house!”
Quicker than Sally thought the old man could still move, he stepped across the room and snatched the twelve-gauge pump-action shotgun off the mantelpiece. In one smooth motion he pumped one round from the magazine into the chamber, switched off the safety, and whirled to face the intruder, who had now entered the kitchen.
“Hey Dad, don’t shoot! It’s me,” a voice called out.
Mother rocketed out of her seat. “Andrew!” she cried.
It was Andy! They rushed him, and hugged him, again and again, until finally he had to push them away to get a gasp of breath. Everyone was in tears. Sally looked at her mother. The woman was absolutely transported. Sally felt it too. It was like her heart was about to burst. She wanted to leap for joy. It was the happiest moment in her life. He was alive! Her brother was alive!
Father was the first to recover enough to speak. “Where have you been son? We all thought you were dead.”
The Holy Land: Fanatical Earthling planet assassins are spreading chaos through the galaxy. Is there any nice way to stop them? Page 24
