The Invader Candidate: From the Adventures of Khraa-Veh, Alien Explorer
Page 30
“I guess I’m guilty of instilling that kind of fear of prison into my kids,” Mike said. “And so was Sweaty.”
“You know who ‘Sweaty’ was, Khraavie?” Glenn asked.
“Yes, Glenn” Khraa/Astra said. “Your Dad’s nickname for your birth-mother Svetlana. What did your birth-mom say about Lubyanka?”
“Mom always spooked us about Lubyanka prison when we were bad” Val said. “She always said that prisons, even ones in America, were just like Lubyanka, and then told us horror story after horror story about Lubyanka. That straightened us out PDQ!”
Everyone laughed for a moment, until Jim’s smartphone rang.
“Stock” Jim said, as he answered the phone. “Yes, Jeff. Uh-huh… Yes?... Yes...?”
Jim listened silently for a moment as “Jeff” explained the reason for his call.
“I see… Do you really think —? You’re both in agreement, even though the —? I see… Okay, Jeff, I’ll have my private black chopper pick you up… Of course, I’ll have my own private security staff pick you up in a Hum-V limo to take you to my Minneapolis helipad and fly you here. Thanks, Jeff. See you around 4 PM Central. Bye.”
“Who was that?” Khraa/Astra asked, as Jim ended his call and turned off his smartphone.
“Khraavie,” Jim said, with profound uneasiness, “that was someone of high standing in American politics who has decided to abandon Stanton’s camp and give us some major intel that can bring that bad girl down.”
“Who?”
“Hang onto your drawers, people!” Jim said. “Jefferson… Innes… Stanton.”
“You mean —” Mike said, with trepidation.
“You gotta be kidding?!” Glenn said, in sardonic disbelief.
“You’re serious?!” Val said, in ominous disbelief.
“I think he is serious” Khraa/Astra said, as fear laced her every word. “None other than —”
“None other than Jefferson Innes Stanton, former President of the United States,” Dr. Goldshtein said, with a frightened awe he had not felt since he had witnessed first-hand the detonation of the Soviets’ extremely powerful “Tsar Bomba” H-bomb in 1961. “And husband of Mallory Ignacia Stanton, who is vying for the same office.
“I hope you’re right, Jim, about Jefferson being able to help us” Mike said. “After everything Khraavie and our other alien friends have told us, we’ll need it!”
Dr. Goldshtein continued, “Next to this Mephistula who has posed as Mallory Stanton, Hitler looks like a mere street bully! Somehow, we could stop that Austrian madman. But I hope to God that we can stop this monster, this ‘invader candidate!’
“Even if the Allies lost World War II,” Dr. Goldshtein said, “there would have been some way to regroup and eventually destroy that felonious Fuhrer and his rotter-Reich! But if we do not stop this invader candidate Mephistula…” Dr. Goldshtein paused, before he sighed and said, with even more fear in his voice, “Bog pomozhet nam vsem!”
“What did Dr. Goldy just say?” Donny asked.
“Donny,” a frightened Khraa/Astra said, “that’s Russian for ‘God help us all.’”
PERSONAL HELIPAD, THREE-CROSS RANCH
TEXAS, USA
3:58 PM CENTRAL TIME
A specially modified night-black MD 500E helicopter slowly made its final approach to the ranch’s helipad, descending ever so gently and quietly until it landed.
Jim, April, Dr. Goldshtein, Mike, and Khraa/Astra ran with their heads ducked down over to the helicopter as its rotors slowed to a stop.
“Hello, Mr. Ex-President” Jim said.
“Hi, Jim” Jefferson Innes Stanton said, with his trademark grin and Elvis Presley-type Tennessee accent, as the silver-haired yet still moderately youthful ex-Commander-In-Chief exited the helicopter.
He was followed by the short and vivacious yet ever-sullen raven-haired 30-something ex-White House intern Monique Levy, with whom Jefferson infamously shared center stage in a high-profile sex scandal several years earlier.
“Mr. Ex-President” Mike said coldly because he voted against Jefferson.
“Agent Bonhoeffer, I presume” Jefferson said, extending his hand toward Mike.
“Yes, sir” Mike said, as he shook Jefferson’s hand.
“Don’t worry, Mike, I’m not offended. Not everyone voted for me, you know.”
“How could you tell?”
“I can tell tons about somebody just by their handshake.”
All present laughed a little at Jefferson’s insightful quip.
“I’m just a patriotic American” Dr. Goldshtein said. “One who is also apolitical.”
“I’ve heard you do what you can to be impartial, Doctor, uh, Goldshtein, isn’t it?”
“That is correct, Mr. Ex-President” Dr. Goldshtein said. “Enjoy your flight?”
“Jim always does his best to make it that way, Doc.”
Jefferson looked around to look for the “alien” he had heard about and asked, “So, where’s our alleged ‘Lady ET’?”
“That would be me!” Khraa/Astra said, extending her hand to shake Jefferson’s.
“You?!” Jefferson said in shock, as he barely managed to shake Khraa/Astra’s hand. “Astra Downey?! You’re the ET Jim spoke of?!”
“Yep!” Khraa/Astra said, with matter-of-factly folksiness.
“Let’s get ourselves into the big basement” Jim said, referring to the ranch’s network of underground labs.
UNDERGROUND PSYCHO-INTERROGATION LAB PSYL-2B
BENEATH THREE-CROSS RANCH, TEXAS, USA
4:29 PM CENTRAL TIME
“Count backwards from ten, Jefferson” April said, after injecting Jefferson with truth serum.
“Ten…” Jefferson said in a drugged daze, “nine… eight… seven… five… two…”
Jefferson was now fully under the sodium pentothal’s influence.
“Is your name Jefferson Innes Stanton?” asked April, whose past CIA duties involved the interrogation with subjects that were either connected to numerous polygraphs, or clandestinely placed under truth serum.
“Yes…” said Jefferson, as he laid on a bed while under truth serum, as everyone but the kids watched behind two-way glass.
“Do you know where you are?”
“I am on the Three-Cross Ranch... Location, unknown…”
“Has Mallory Ignacia Stanton been involved with satanic ritualism?”
“Yes...”
“For how long has she indulged in Satanism?”
“Since I first met her...”
“Now, Jeff,” April said, “I want you to listen very, very carefully to this next question and think about it hard.”
“Sure...”
“Is Mallory Ignacia Stanton not a human being, but instead a non-human alien?”
A tense pause filled the room, until Jefferson answered weakly, “Yes...”
Gasps of alarm filled the room.
“Has she ever spoken of plans to destroy Earth with advanced weaponry not of this Earth, even if she spoke of it in her sleep?”
“Yes…”
An hour after Jefferson’s truth session ended, April asked Monique, who was also put under truth serum, “Is your name Monique Rachel Levy?”
“Yes…” Monique said while she laid on a bed under truth serum. Jim, Mike, Khraa/Astra and Dr. Goldshtein looked on through the two-way mirror as before.
“Do you know where you are?”
“I am on the Three-Cross Ranch… Location, unknown…”
“Has Mallory Ignacia Stanton ever been involved with satanic ritualism?”
“Yes...”
“For how long has she indulged in Satanism?”
“Since before I first met the Stantons…”
“Now, Monique,” April said, “I want you to listen very, very carefully to this next question and think about it hard.”
“Sure...”
“Is Mallory Ignacia Stanton not a human being, but instead a non-human alien?”
A t
ense pause filled the room for a moment as it did during the same point in Jefferson’s truth serum interrogation, until Monique answered weakly, “Yes...”
“Has Ms. Stanton ever spoken of plans to destroy Earth with advanced weaponry not of this Earth, even if she spoke of it in her sleep?”
“Yes…” Monique said. “Mallory joked about it so much behind closed doors… it nauseated me to no end…”
Val said, “The more I hear about Stanton, the more she creeps me out.”
“I hear you, Val” Khraa/Astra said. “I hear you.”
Val, fearful at what she was hearing, reached out to hold Khraa/Astra’s hand like a frightened girl would reach out for her mother’s.
LIVING ROOM, RANCH HOUSE, THREE-CROSS RANCH
TEXAS, USA
8:59 PM CENTRAL TIME
“It appears our two friends are telling the truth” Dr. Goldshtein said to the group in a somber tone. “Ms. Levy and Mr. Stanton’s testimonies given under truth serum corroborate fully with their documented statements. Along with what Admiral Patt-Makarrth, Drs. Khraa-Veh ven-Elheem, Velbya-Koyne and Har-Nyxxlon have told us, we know a great deal more about this space-monster Mephistula.”
Mike asked, “How soon can Blue 1 be fitted with the stardrive and ready to fly?”
“We’ll have it done in half a day” Tranxa said. “Mike, since God imparted into you during that outdoor communion the handling characteristics of a Stingfly fighter, the technical layout of Kannatikan warships, and standard Shrion military strategy, you’ll be able to fly it, right?”
“The Lord imparted it all into me when I ingested the communion elements He had blessed” Mike said. “I know it all backwards and forwards like the back of my hand.”
He turned to Khraa/Astra and asked, “Khraavie, are you sure you can tangle with Stanton — I mean, Mephistula, and win?”
“The Lord imparted how to fight her into me when I consumed my biscuit and grape juice He had blessed at communion, just like He had imparted everything you need to know about flying Blue 1” Khraa/Astra said. “I can do it, Mike.”
“You’d better!” Jim said. “If either of you fails, we are all done for!”
Khraa/Astra and Mike wondered about their plans for the wedding and wanted to get the knot tied, knowing they might not be long for this or any world.
“Mike?” Khraa/Astra asked.
“Yes, love?”
Khraa/Astra hesitated for an uncomfortably long moment before Mike said, “What’s the matter?”
“Mike… Do you love me?”
“I love you, Khraavie.”
“I mean —” An antsy Khraa/Astra put her hands up, palms out, as she tried to come up with the words she wanted to say. “Mike, we may or may not have much time left, so could we make the most of the time we know we do have left?”
“You mean, you want to get married now, or at least ASAP?”
“Yes!”
“Khraavie,” Mike said, with love and caution lacing his voice. “Jim’s got a wide spread. Let’s ride out to a quiet spot on horseback and talk it over, shall we?”
“Well…” Khraa/Astra said, understanding why Mike wanted to talk things over first. She turned to Jim and asked, “Can you spare a couple of riding horses so my man and I can make some sort of plans?”
“Consider it done, guys,” Jim said.
Chapter 11
PASTS, PLOTS AND PLANS
As for the bureaucratic paperwork involved in obtaining the marriage license to legally enable Mike and me to “tie the knot” (yet another quaint “Earthism”), Jim was good and prescient enough to bring an official who was a friend of his family to grant the license on the ranch the day before V-S-S-Day #1. The sympathetic official understood the nature of his present and former life to allow for him to have someone come in one of Jim’s black limos, pick her up, and deliver her to draft the marriage license. (Jim, a well-known local eccentric, more than made up for his odd behaviors by giving back generously to the local Texas community, as well as aiding in its safety and security.)
But before we could love-bond [i.e.: marry], Mike and I had a job to do, and many important matters to discuss...
Dr. Khraa-Veh ven-Bonhoeffer
Admiral, Platinum-Class, AMKEXPRA (Ret’d)
My Cosmos-Spanning Memoirs
TREED RIVERBANK AREA, THREE-CROSS RANCH
TEXAS, USA
8 JULY 12:29 PM CENTRAL TIME
“You know what I really love about you, Khraavie?” Mike asked, as he and Khraa/Astra slowly rode up to a stream on horseback.
“What’s that?” Khraa/Astra said.
“The fact that both you and I do not drink alcohol. Ever since we met, you’ve treated alcohol as if it was bubonic plague, even to the point of joking about it a lot.”
“Thank you for noticing!” Khraa/Astra jested, causing them both to laugh.
Khraa/Astra was gently wowed by the natural beauty of the surrounding Texas countryside as she and Mike rode. The beautiful surroundings prompted Khraa/Astra to comment, “You know, Mike, this Texas country. The beauty of this rugged wilderness…. it’s a lovely piece of your planet’s natural beauty.”
“It sure is” Mike said, before he pointed to a shady black willow tree they were nearing. “How about we stop and have a picnic underneath that shade tree?”
“Sounds like a plan” Khraa/Astra said.
The lovers rode to the willow tree, dismounted from their horses and tied them to the tree. Khraa/Astra got their picnic lunch out of her saddle-bag and laid out the blanket. She then placed the food on it, along with a salt-shaker-sized Kannatikan-made device.
“What’s that?”
“A device invented by scientists in my part of the Universe” Khraa/Astra said, as she activated it. “It repels bugs and other pests, even bears, cougars, and coyotes.”
“How does it work?”
“It gives insects, other pests, even predatory creatures a deep, scary mental suggestion to stay away. It won’t affect us humans or the horses, though. Nor will it affect our food.”
“Amazing!” Mike said. “Can you give our people the designs for this?”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s the law. You know the Prime Directive from your Star Trek saga?”
“A non-interference policy” Mike said. “An Amkerian law?”
“That’s right, Mike” Khraa/Astra said. “The Amkerian Rod-Shatt Law, as well as the Tarsonic Alien Worlds Dealings Act and the International Lesser-World Convention-Treaty — these laws are in place for the protection of worlds like yours. The only generally accepted exception to that rule is a situation where such a lesser-advanced planet proves to be a clear and present danger to national and international security. It’s not quite like your Star Trek’s Prime Directive, but fairly close.”
“I see” Mike said. “That exception sounds like a logical one. How stiff would the penalty be for your giving me even so much as one unauthorized item?”
“If I gave your people the plans for tech-devices from my part of the Universe like this, Mike,” Khraa/Astra said, “I’d get my butt sent to Medusalia Prison-planet.”
“That bad?”
“Getting sent to that world, Mike” Khraa/Astra said, “is one thing no self-respecting female wants. It’s the outer space Bastille for women. Or women’s Alcatraz, or Dartmoor for dames, or ladies’ Lubyanka. Take your pick. For any human female convict in the Free Universe, the Dragnet march remains the same. Medusalia Prison is built underground on a planet with no atmosphere on its surface, just like your Moon.”
“You mentioned the laws of two nations and an ‘international’ treaty” Mike said, rather confused about his out-of-this-world girlfriend’s astro-political points of reference. “Forgive me, love, but, I still have a tough time wrapping my head around nations consisting of thousands of planets, and this comes from an ex-Trekker.”
“Don’t you like Star Trek anymore,
Mike?”
“I still like it, Khraavie,” Mike said, “but after they came out with the Next-Gen Star Trek shows, I kinda got ‘Trekked-out.’ Too much of a good thing, I guess.”
“May Patrick Stewart have mercy on your soul!” Khraa/Astra fake-chided, prompting Mike to break into light laughter.
“Khraavie,” Mike continued, “you spoke of interstellar nations other than yours. What about your home-nation of Kannatika? From the way that you’ve described Kannatika, it sounds sort of like Canada here on Earth. And having worked with the Mounties a lot, I think if Earth made both official and public contact with aliens, Canada would be the first country to sign such a non-interference treaty and pass such laws.”
“Kannatika has a law like that… or at least, we did” Khraa/Astra said. “That’s where the Kannatikan First Contact Measures Act came into play. But with Trudierre as Minister-In-Chief, I — I just don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?”
“Trudierre’s the kind who would send small, elite con-artist-type ‘cultural persuasion’ taskforces to misdirect the cultures of lesser-advanced planet-confined worlds — the more primitive, the better — and make ‘satellite-worlds’ out of them. And he would use the ol’ false messiah trick to do it.”
“How primitive would they have to be?”
“The most gullible worlds would have to be dominated by planets with technologies at the current levels of remote jungle tribes in your South American rainforests. Cultures as relatively advanced as the Old Order Amish — and Mike, I know it’s hard to fathom the Amish as ‘advanced’, but then, I’m a social scientist who has studied cultures on dozens of planets — Amish-level cultures are tough to persuade. In fact, if a planet’s culture was as advanced as those in your post-Imperial Roman Dark Ages Europe, such a taskforce would be treated as witches for burning at the stake!”
Mike laughed, as he said, “I could see that! The same thing would go for old Salem, too!”
“Exactly” Khraa/Astra said. “And such a scenario with tribal cultures like your African Tribespeoples, pre-Columbus Native Americans and pre-1600s Australian Aborigines would result in the techno-militarization of such simple-living peoples. Trust me, Mike, I’ve seen it too many times, and that I’m sick and tired of it. And when I think about it too much, I cry hard for those techno-militarily-enslaved peoples!”