by Richard Mann
‘Sounds like the Nazi experiments during the Second World War,’ the president shakes his head.
‘Then they came in a larger ship and destroyed an entire village. I was there 6000 years ago. I witnessed it. You may think we vampires are da enemy of humans, yes in those days we fed on humans, mostly dead, as well as a few old or weak individuals, and not in great numbers. You must understand we admire humans for their spirit and courage. Anyway, they wiped out an entire village. You understand—we could not tolerate this, so there was a war.’
‘Incredible, if it’s true,’ says the President.
‘Mr. President, surely you cannot believe this nonsense,’ says General Scott, smiling sarcastically.
‘General Scott, we have evidence. An archaeologist found some artefacts from da ancient war recently. We keep an eye on these ancient sites. They are part of our history and heritage. He works at your University of da California, Professor Picard,’ replied Cassian.
General Scott picks up the phone. ‘This is Scott, get Professor Picard, University of California.’
‘That was then—this is now, how does this affect us, here in the present?’ asked the president exasperated.
Cassian looks at Lucia. He pauses, ‘As I said, we have become aware of the threat of da old enemy. They are coming soon. In da next few days.’
‘Mr. President,’ says General Scott, scratching his head.
‘What evidence do you have for an alien invasion?’ asks the president, his eyebrows raised as he leans back in his plush leather chair.
‘We have detected increased alien activity over the last year or so. Many of your human women have disappeared,’ replies Cassian.
‘Fifty thousand women in the US have disappeared over the last year.’ The general looks at Cassian.
‘Were they white, middle-class?’ asks Cassian.
‘Yes. How did you know? You think aliens are responsible?’ asks the General.
Chapter 27
Physic Vampires
‘Yes, we do. We are psychic,’ says Cassian.
‘We need hard facts,’ says the president.
‘We can see into other worlds you cannot see. We became psychic because we had to, to survive. The ability evolved naturally over time. For instance, did you know your ancestor, Neolithic man was telepathic? If danger was imminent, like a flood, for example, they had to communicate to survive—there were no telephones in those days. There was a symbiosis between man and nature, a direct connection—evolution did da rest. Humans have lost that ability, partly due to religious persecution and partly because they don’t need it anymore,’ explained a patient Cassian.
‘Thank you for the information. We will investigate this professor’s discoveries.’ The President is uncomfortable now.
Cassian continues. ‘That is not all. We have reason to believe there is a traitor amongst you. We are certain of it. He is high up in your military hierarchy.’
President Wilson and General Scott exchange glances, trying to hide surprise. ‘Again, thank you for the information. I have another meeting now,’ says the president, beginning to rise from his chair.
As Cassian is leaving the room, he turns to the President, looking sympathetic. ‘You want proof that I am psychic President Wilson. You have a problem with your stomach, you need to see a doctor.’ The president stands aghast for a moment. How could Cassian know he needs to see a doctor unless he really is psychic?
President Wilson and General Scott stand outside the meeting room. ‘I want this professor’s discoveries investigated,’ orders the president.
‘Do you think what they are saying is true, Frank?’ asks his friend, the General.
‘There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’ replies the president.
‘Beg your pardon, sir?’ The General is confused. The President looks his friend in the eye.
‘Bill, who would have thought a year ago we would be discussing an alien invasion with vampires? Real vampires, Bill, they told me something nobody else knows. There was something about what they said that rang true.’
The General shrugs his shoulders.
President Wilson holds his stomach as if in pain. ‘Are you okay, Frank? You look pale.’
The President tries to sound confident, ‘Yes I’m fine, just some indigestion.’ Privately the President knows Cassian is right: he needs to see a doctor. If Cassian is right about that, maybe he was right about other things.
“Why would they come to us unless it was something that threatened both our races? Maybe we should trust Cassian and Lucia. There is an old saying ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’ We need to trust our instincts on this, Bill.” The President looks intense.
General Scott is thoughtful. ‘If what they say is true—and I’m not saying it is—there is a clear and present danger to national security—global security for that matter.’
The President and the General stand silent for a moment, the President speaks first, ‘They said these aliens would be coming in the next few days. I’m going to take a chance. Go to DEFCON 4. Give the order, just as a precaution.’
The General is shocked.
‘But what do I tell the other joint chiefs?’ as he opens his arms, exasperated.
‘Tell them it’s a training exercise,’ answers the president.
‘Yes sir, I hope your hunch is correct.’
CONSULTATION ROOM
President Wilson is in a private health clinic with a consultant. Secret Service agents wait outside the room, along with his wife Vanessa, the First Lady, in a smart suit, high heels and Jackie Kennedy-style brunette hair. Her pale white face looks scared and apprehensive as she paces up and down, biting her immaculate nails.
Inside the room, the consultant looks at him and tries to be reassuring, but his news is not good.
‘We have done all the tests, and I have double-checked the results. Please sit down, Mr. President.’
‘I will stand if you don’t mind.’ The President goes outside and speaks to his wife. ‘Vanessa, come in please, I need you now.’ Vanessa enters, and they sit down together looking at the consultant. She grips his hand so firmly he winces.
‘I’m afraid I have some bad news, sir. The tests have come back, and you have early-stage stomach cancer.’ Vanessa weeps, but the President sits stony-faced as the consultant continues.
The consultant puts on his most optimistic face as he addresses the leader of the free world. ‘We have had very good success rates with these types of cancer. We have caught it early so there’s every chance you can make a full recovery, if we start treatment, now.’
President Wilson puts his head in his hands, a sense of mortality and foreboding filling his body. He feels weak and helpless. He is the leader of the free world, but we are all at God’s mercy. He feels fragile, but he needs to be strong. How can he tell his son he has cancer? Then he puts on his brave, resilient face and faces the consultant.
‘You must keep this confidential.’
‘Yes sir, of course,’ said the consultant.
‘When do we start treatment?’
‘This afternoon Sir, there is no time to lose.’
Outside the doctor’s office, President Wilson hugs Vanessa. ‘We can beat this together, okay?’ whispers Vanessa, the tears welling in her eyes. She smiles, trying to hide her feelings.
‘If they start treatment now, there’s a good chance,’ says the president, trying to put a sugar coating on it. His young son, Michael, runs up to him and hugs him tight. The president looks down and puts his hand on his young son’s head. ‘Son, you need to be a brave boy. Daddy is sick. I have a problem with my tummy.’ His son nods.
‘I feel so bad. There’s the charity event in New York, I should stay here with you,’ says a tearful First Lady as she touches his chest.
‘No, you go, Michael can keep me company.’
They kiss, but the president will ultimately regret his last words to her.
Chapter 28
Invasion
CANBERRA DEEP SPACE COMMUNICATION COMPLEX –PRESENT DAY
Two junior astronomers based in the communication complex are doing the night shift. Banks of computers and monitors line the walls. Nick, longhaired, scruffy, unshaven and hung over, nods off then sleepily gazes up at his screen.
‘Huh?’
Nick grimaces at his coffee and then looks at his screen again. ‘Chris, have a look at this. Is this shit coffee making me see things or can you see an object moving towards Earth?’
Chris, even more longhaired, and even scruffier, stares at his screen.
‘You mean that object?
‘Yes, I mean that fucking object—it’s not an asteroid, it’s too solid! Call the boss,’ says Nick.
‘You mean bell end?’ asks Chris.
‘Just call him,’ orders Nick.
Chris is on the phone to his boss. ‘Yes sir, we have a very large object moving towards Earth… about 100,000 kilometres distant and closing fast. Speed? Hold on a minute. 20,000 miles per hour. No, hold on. Sorry sir, it’s changing, 19,000 miles per hour. Can’t be right. How can it be slowing down?’
UNITED STATES SPACE COMMAND. PETERSON AIR FORCE BASE COLORADO
In Air Force Space Command (AFSPC) sits Chip, a young, muscular, crop-haired space radar operator. He is surrounded by other operators and banks of screens. In the front of the huge room is a screen twenty feet tall and fifty feet wide showing every single satellite and other space objects, and their position in Earth orbit, shown in real time.
Chip gets excited. ‘Sir! I’ve picked something up on the space radar. It’s coming in fast, sir.’ His superior, General Grimbald, looks annoyed.
‘Meteorite?’
‘I don’t think so, sir.’
‘Why’s that?’ asks the General, showing his yellow teeth.
‘Because it’s slowing down, sir!’ General Grimbald looks agitated.
‘Must be a fault in the system,’ he replies, his eyes darting this way and that.
Chip is frustrated. ‘But sir!’
‘Do a full system diagnostic. That’s an order!’ barks the general.
‘But sir that will take three hours!’ Chip is jumping with agitation.
‘Do it! That’s an order! The only reason you got this job, Lieutenant, is because that jumped-up asshole of an uncle of yours is in the White House.’
General Grimbald walks away. His greasy, black hair is in contrast to his pale, unhealthy-looking face. His dark, shifty eyes dart back and forth as if searching for something, he then checks his watch. Chip waits until the General leaves, then discreetly taps out a message on his mobile phone, then decides what he is going to do. Disobeying a direct order could mean a court-martial, but if the Earth was being invaded, he needed to do something.
He finishes the message to his uncle, General Scott, in the White House and decides to wait for an answer. Running a system diagnostic would consume a lot of computing resource. A bead of sweat drops from his forehead, as he looks at his colleagues, hoping he has made the right decision.
Chapter 29
Panic in the Oval Office
WHITE HOUSE
General Bill Scott is walking down the corridor when he picks up a message from his nephew Chip. He raises his eyebrows as he walks into the Oval Office where his good friend President Frank Wilson is pouring coffee.
‘Hello Bill, sugar?’
‘No thanks, trying to cut down,’ replies the General his thoughts occupied by Chip’s message.
‘Bill, sit down, please. There is something I need to tell you.’ President Wilson pauses as he looks directly at Scott. The general hasn’t seen that look in his eyes before, this is something new.
‘I am only telling you this as you are a family friend, and we’ve known each other for many years, and I trust you. Now, apart from Vanessa and Michael, you will be the only person to know this. No doubt, the press will get hold of it sooner, or later. Anyway, I have been diagnosed with cancer—stomach cancer.’ Bill Scott sits down in shock next to his old friend.
‘Jesus Christ, Frank, I am so sorry. You should be resting and taking it easy.’ The General, not one normally for showing emotion, put his hand on the president’s shoulder. As the president looks out of the Oval Office window, he sees a huge crow looking at him, its black eyes piercing his soul. For a few seconds he is transfixed—then it waddles off, spreads its wings and flies away. The president looks at his friend.
‘What is it, Frank?’
‘Did you see that bird, Bill?’
‘No.’
‘Odd, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.’ The president shakes his head to regain his focus, but the image of the bird stays in his mind.
‘It’s in the early stages, so the prognosis is good. My doctor says I have an excellent chance of recovery.’
‘That’s good Frank, you have a chance,’ says the General, cheered up by his friend’s optimism, then he looks at his mobile again.
‘You look preoccupied. What is it?’ asks the President.
‘Sorry Frank, it’s just odd. I have a message from my nephew Chip down at Space Command. An object has been detected coming towards Earth.’
‘Shouldn’t we get notification direct from General Grimbald?’ asked the President, surprised.
‘Yes sir, that’s why it’s odd. It is just not standard procedure. I’ve asked Chip to schedule a conference call with Grimbald in ten minutes. Maybe it’s just my nephew getting over excited—he is pretty new.’
‘Do you trust him?’ The President looks the General in the eye.
‘Yes. Absolutely, 100%. He has made lieutenant already.’ General Scott dials Chip on his mobile.
‘Chip, don’t run that diagnostic. Await further orders. That’s a direct order.’
Scott is interrupted by the large red phone on the president’s desk, blinking away. A direct line to all the world’s leaders. Wilson and Scott look at each other as an aide rushes in excited.
‘Sir, sir! It’s the Chinese on the line!’
Wilson picks up the red phone.
‘Premier Xin, what can I do for you?’
‘President Wilson, we have picked up something on our long-range space radar, do you have any unofficial space missions that you have not told us about?’ President Wilson hesitates.
‘I can confirm we have no space missions, we, err… haven’t had any official confirmation of any near-Earth object.’
‘I find that difficult to believe, President Wilson, honestly.’
‘Can I get back to you? We need to investigate this,’ says a shaky president as he puts the phone down.
‘Jesus Christ, Bill. The Chinese know before we do!’ The President looks at General Scott.
‘The Chinese have hacked into the Space Command network several times this year already.’ The red phone blinks again.
‘President Wilson.’
‘President Wilson, this is President Yakimov, we are tracking an object approaching Earth orbit. Do you have any space missions you haven’t told us about? Protocol dictates that you must tell us.’
‘We are also tracking the object. We are awaiting further information, President Yakimov. Thank you for informing us. We will get back to you. Goodbye.’
President Wilson sits back in his chair, head in his hands. By now, the room is filled with most of the Defense Chiefs and military personnel. Wilson is angry as he looks at Scott, ‘Get General Grimbald on the line NOW!’ punching his desk in frustration.
The crowded oval office stands in silence. Scott gets on the line to his counterpart in Space Command.
‘This is
General Scott. Get me Grimbald now!’
Grimbald’s assistant answers, ‘He’s not here, sir. We cannot find him.’ General Scott is incredulous, as his face reddens.
Chapter 30
Where the Fuck is Grimbald?
‘What do you mean you cannot find him? Where the fuck is he? This is an emergency!’ shouted a red-faced Bill Scott.
‘Sorry sir, Colonel Mack’s not here either. Do you want to speak to Lieutenant Scott?’
‘Yes, put him on the line!’ he snapped.
‘Sir,’ said a nervous Chip.
‘Where is Grimbald? Why didn’t he notify us officially? We’ve had the Russians and Chinese giving us more information than our own guys, where the fuck is he?’ The General’s face is red and flushed.
‘That’s it, sir, we cannot find him anywhere, he didn’t leave a message, it’s like he has disappeared.’ Scott pauses and takes in a deep breath trying to calm down. He looks at the window and sees the crow, its black eyes staring back at him. It gives him the creeps; a bead of sweat runs down his face.
‘Right Chip, I’m putting you in temporary charge, I want a full status update. Now!’
‘Yes, sir. The object is now 20,000 miles from Earth, and it’s slowing down sir. It’s slowing down. It’s not a meteorite, sir.’ General Scott is grim-faced. President Wilson pale. There is silence in the Oval Office as the senior military officers absorb the revelation.
‘How big is the object, Chip? asked the general.
‘Well, it appears very large, about one hundred miles across.’
‘Jesus Christ.’
‘Something else.’
