B00ICVKWMK EBOK

by Unknown

  Chapter 5

  The Strike

  The shuttles arrived long after dusk and before the moon rose. Silently cruising through the atmosphere, they circled the large house on the hill overlooking the lake to make sure no one was present to give a warning. Only a few lights were on in the house and no one could be seen near the windows or on the grounds. Only after a careful search did the craft swiftly settle on the expansive lawn. As soon as their motion stopped, doors on the side of the craft opened and the men streamed out and took up defensive positions around the craft. Using hand signals, the men then proceeded silently toward the house, staying in the shadows.

  Jamla had finished the dinner dishes and was doing a few things in the kitchen when she heard a strange noise. She turned in time to see a man rush up to her and forcefully pin her arms behind her. Another stifled her screams with his gloved hand. Jamla vainly tried to bite the man, but a quick blow to the head knocked her senseless. She vaguely remembered being pulled to the main entrance hall and seeing other men going from room to room. As if in a mist she saw the men come from upstairs carrying a bundle and hustling it out the front door. Jamla struggled with her captors when she realized the bundle was Timothy. She was struck again for her efforts and thrown like a rag across the living room furniture. When she came to, the men were gone. It was then that she remembered what Mike called the ‘panic button’ hidden along the wall. She struggled to get to her feet and then stumbled to the recess that hid the switch, falling into it. From somewhere she heard a voice asking what the problem was and she vaguely recalled saying there were intruders and something about the boy. Her last conscious thought was seeing a faint blue haze suddenly appear around the outside as she blacked out.

  Mike had never dreamed that he would see the alarm on his dash light up. But when the instruments went from white to red, he somehow knew something had happened at home and slammed the accelerator to the floor. The 390 horsepower large block V-8 screamed as the tires first spun and then grabbed the road. A flashing light appeared on top of the windscreen as he swept around cars and dashed toward his home. At speeds over 100 miles per hour he tore across the open road, only slowing as he approached the gate. Alliance security personnel were not a second behind him. Pressing the code for the shields, they opened only enough to allow the vehicles in as they dashed to the house. They found Jamla lying on the rug next to the alarm switch. Her face was already swollen from the two vicious blows. Mike swept her up into his arms and began trying to revive her. She quickly began to stir. When she recognized Mike, her first words were, “Timothy. They took Timothy.”

  The rush up the stairs was fruitless. The boy was gone along with some of his clothes. It was obvious someone had swept him up along with the bedclothes and carried him away. Mike was now becoming frantic. He began rushing around and calling for his son.

  Jim Cook had seen it all before and knew what the young man was going through. As chief of security, he had been through a number of criminal activities and had seen all the responses. He calmly walked over to Mike and grabbed his shoulder.

  “Mike, let me handle things a while. Can you take care of Jamla till her husband gets here? She’s in a bad way and I need my guys to search the grounds. If he’s here, we’ll find him,” he said.

  It had the desired effect. Mike looked down toward Jamla, sobbing in the living room and made his way towards her. Cook smiled inwardly. The good ones always cared for others even if their lives had been torn apart, he thought to himself. Then he turned to his men and gave the orders. While Mike sat beside Jamla and gave her some comfort, they scoured the grounds with their scanners, noting the paths around the house and where they led. Within minutes, he found himself looking at the skid marks of at least 10 vessels. From the thermal monitoring all the perpetrators had exited to these positions and then simply stopped. He knelt down and examined the markings. It was clear they had been made by some sort of aircraft. A puzzled look came across his face. For a planet that was totally unaware of winged flight, where could they have come from. He stood quickly and grabbed another scanner and made some adjustments. Lifting it higher and moving it across the sky he searched for an answer. Unfortunately with the scanner’s limited range, there were no aircraft to be found.

  Captain Dickson was sleeping soundly when the word came. Within minutes the Lexington went to stage 9.5.

  Bruce Springer was an agricultural agent. For 20 years he had been working on a variety of planets throughout the Alliance to help populations feed themselves and to introduce tried and true horticultural practices. For the last three years he had been on Thera helping farmers get bigger yields on their crops and to introduce conservation techniques. The Alliance needn’t have bothered. During the entire time he had been sitting in his regional office listening to the paint peel. The Therans, he found, were a naturally conservative group that always looked after their environment. More importantly, they had a great teacher, Sungna Gadesh, who had introduced natural plant genetics and propagation almost two centuries before. Using methods remarkably similar to Mendel, on Earth, they had quickly maximized the use of cross fertilization of certain plants to produce hybrid strains which were naturally resistant to both disease and insects. Much to Springer’s dismay, the Therans were able to teach the Alliance a few things about plants.

  It was a great surprise when Springer was called late that evening to come to a small village and check out something new. The Therans were being very vague about what they wanted him to see, and he was in no mood for word games. Springer finally had agreed to be there the next morning. Now he was driving his coupe down the narrow lanes towards the farm of Olan Tacha. The warm and humid morning blew past his open windows and ruffled his white shirt sleeves. He could see the heavy mist rising off the saturated earth. The storms had left the ground a kind of mush that, when dry, would make for hard plowing. Several of the fields he had passed had crops destroyed by the rain and hail. But he wasn’t too worried. The Therans always had plenty. It would just mean a little bit higher price. He chuckled to himself thinking about how the farmers wouldn’t see that higher price. They rarely did. But that was the way it had almost always been. He felt a bead of sweat run down his cheek.

  In just two more miles he saw the Tacha farm sign beside the road. What he hadn’t expected was all the other vehicles. As he drove into the long drive, he saw cars, trucks, tractors and even a harvester sitting along the side of the drive. All the men seemed to be standing around the barn. He eased his coupe through the crowd and up to where his friend Honle was standing. He waved a greeting as he killed the ignition.

  Honle was a short squat man with arm muscles as big as a horse’s leg. Despite his girth, Bruce knew he was all muscle and maybe a little gristle too. Bruce exited the car with a grin, grabbing his cloth equipment bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

  “Honle, you old cow pie, what are you doing here?” Springer asked extending his hand. The shake he got in return was enough to crush small rocks.

  “Just wanted to see you out of bed this early in the morning Bruce. Come over here and meet Olan, the guy that owns this land,” he said with a toothy grin. Introductions were made and they got down to business.

  “Bruce, Olan here dug up something yesterday that’s got him and me kinda puzzled,” Honle said with a serious look. “Now I didn’t say much on the phone ‘cause we have an operator that just loves to listen in on long distance calls and I figured it weren’t any of her never mind to hear what I was thinking. But now that you’re here, we need some serious truth,” he said. His face was getting more and more serious with each word and Springer knew something was really bothering him. Honle took a deep breath and then quietly asked, “Have any of your Alliance people been here before?”

  Springer almost choked. What could have made Honle ask that kind of question? Luckily the answer was simple.

  “Honle, Olan, except for a brief visit about 100 years ago, until about five years ago when we first came
here, no Alliance vessel has ever been in this part of the galaxy,” he said.

  Olan looked at Honly and then back at Springer. He had been blessed with a sixth sense about liars. As a matter of fact, he could pick one out a mile away. But this man wasn’t lying. “Then Mister Bruce we have us an unexplained mystery a growin’ out of the side of a hill not more than a half a mile away,” Olan said with a sigh.

  “Then maybe you need to fill me in more about what you’ve found out there. Is it some kind of plant you have never seen?” Springer asked.

  Honly shook his head. “The best thing to do is to show you Bruce,” he said taking him by the arm. “I didn’t believe it myself until I saw it,” he said taking a seat on the side of the wagon hitched to Olan’s tractor. “It ain’t no plant, it’s a kind of a house.”

  Springer stopped him. “You mean you brought me out here to see a house?” he asked, starting to get off the trailer.

  “Just you sit yourself down Bruce and follow us up there. If nothing else, you might have some idea of where it came from,” Honle said as Olan started the tractor and began moving in the direction of the hill.

  Chapter 6

  The Aftermath

  Mike was sitting in the Ambassador’s office in one of the overstuffed chairs. The ambassador, Nathan Prentiss, was sipping his coffee and studying Mike’s face. In all the time they had worked together, Mike had never looked so intense, so troubled and so utterly helpless. The Security Chief had outlined all they were doing and all the assistance that was pouring in. They already had calls from over 20 countries pledging their help to recover the child.

  Mike seemed not to hear. He was in another world of despair and the fact he had not slept the whole night. Jim Cook sensed it and stopped his brief. He eased over until he was standing beside Mike’s chair, and then laid a beefy hand on Mike’s shoulder. As Mike looked up, he said, “Look Mike, the main thing is you let us do the worrying. We’ve been friends a few years right?” he asked. Mike nodded.

  “Then you know I am doing everything possible,” he said.

  Mike nodded again and looked down into his lap. “I just don’t understand,” he finally said. “Jo and I have done everything for these people. Why run away with my son?” he asked not looking up.

  The ambassador looked over at him and leaned forward. “Look Mike. I have been at this business for over 20 years. In all that time I have never seen a world embrace anyone like these people have embraced you and Jo. You alone have made this planet whole again, able to smile and laugh and live in peace. Never think that these fine people did this to you,” he said softly. “One of the other things I have learned is that in a world of good people there are always a few bad apples. And the bottom line is that they do things because they want something. It may be attention, it may be a struggle for power, or it may be that they woke up and decided that they just didn’t like you and they want you to know it. In any case, there is nothing you can do about it. The good news is that they will be in touch with us to let us know what they want. Remember, they don’t really want your son, they want something they think is valuable,” he said calmly looking up at Cook.

  “He’s right Mike. Ask any good cop. The perps want something and the next stage in the game is for us to wait and let him tell us what it is,” Cook said.

  Ambassador Prentiss took something from the table and gave it to Mike. “Here, take this home and run it into that secret computer operation you have in your basement,” he said with a grin. “It will give you access to the planetary sensor array. When this person does call, then we will know instantly where he is,” he said looking at Mike.

  Mike looked back and chuckled softly. “How did you know,” he grinned.

  “It’s my job to know Mike,” he said smiling and winking at Cook. “Now let me show you how I know about these people,” he said to Mike.

  They both stood and all three walked out the door into the main corridor. Their footsteps echoed through the halls. They exited the building and crossed the small compound into the rear of the main Alliance embassy building. Continuing through the silent hall they came to the front facing the entrance of the compound. Mike continued to wonder where he was being taken when the front doors opened.

  Standing at the gate were Therans - thousands of them. Each silently adding his or her prayers and best wishes to a set of books lined up outside the fence. Not a sound escaped their throats, even when the doors opened and Mike, Cook and the Ambassador walked forward. At one point, Mike stopped and looked at Cook with a questioning look on his face.

  “They’re here for you buddy,” he said with a grin. “It’s the only way they know to help.” Mike turned and walked toward the crowd, still silent, but with determined and caring eyes. The Ambassador ordered the gate opened and Mike walked into the crowd. As he reached them, they reached out with their hands to touch him, pat his back, rub his cheek, or simply impart their feeling in some way to a young man that needed their support. He walked further into the crowd and they surrounded him, all of them offering a single touch, and now Mike touching them in return. For nearly an hour he was led through the crowd without a word spoken until he came upon a very old woman, bent and standing with her cane. The glasses on her face were thick and amplified the wrinkles that lined her cheeks and brow. As Mike came before her, she lifted her head and smiled at him, motioning for him to get closer. In Theran, she whispered, “Are you the young man whose child was taken?”

  Mike nodded his head.

  She smiled up at him. “Do not worry yourself,” she said. “We shall all look for him.” Then she took both of Mike’s hands in hers and held them tightly.

  From that point Mike knew that everything the Ambassador had said was true. These were good people and they were all on his side. This was his home. He smiled down on the old woman and said, “Thank you, mother.” Then looking around the crowd, he said in a louder voice. “Thank you all - every one of you.” Then he turned and headed back toward the embassy. Now the crowd was smiling, each in his own way saying, “We’ll find him.” When he reached the embassy gates, Mike turned and waved to the people gathered there. Even as he went inside, they were quietly waving back.

  The embassy car pulled through the gate with its security escort. Through the windows, Jo could already see a difference. What was once a peaceful home was now an armed camp. She could see Alliance security men at the gate and around the house, and she recognized Royal Marines from King Raterc’s forces along the road. She looked over at Mike with a sigh. Mike had tried to be brave and unconcerned all morning, trying his best to cheer her up and not think about the events of the night before, but it didn’t work. She could tell by his eyes the pain he was feeling. In her case, she was nearly numb. The shock of the news had drained all her strength, yet she was a new mother and had a baby to take care of. The crying had lasted for thirty minutes, and they had done that in the privacy of her room. The doctors had counseled but there was nothing that could keep the anxiety from them. After getting last minute instructions, Mike and Jo went down to an embassy car to go home. The car had swung around the outer building and through the main gates. The crowd parted to let them through and stood silently as they had passed. Despite the still growing crowds they passed through as they left the embassy, Jo was in a daze. They had ridden in silence all the way home.

  The car pulled to the front of the house and stopped. The door was opened by one of the security men and while Mike grabbed the overnight case and other things, Jo picked Mary out of the infant carrier in the car and made her way inside. As she stepped into the entrance hall she saw both her parents and Mike’s parents standing there waiting for them. That was when the tension broke.

  “Oh Mama,” Jo cried out, rushing into her mother’s outstretched arms. She was immediately encircled by her father and Mike’s mother as well. The mothers sobbed along with Jo while Mike’s dad took Mary and held her close. When Mike came in he went over to his son and placed his hand on the back
of Mike’s head and pulled him close. Mike had tears in his eyes as well, not so much from what had happened, but because this was the first time he could recall that his father had shown him much affection.

  After a minute, Jo lifted her head and broke into a weak smile. “This is supposed to be such a happy occasion,” she said while sniffing and wiping away the tears.

  “And it will be,” said her father, James Ramey. He was tall and thin with graying hair and a chiseled chin. His blue eyes were piercing, even through the tears. He reached over and lifted her chin. “You don’t worry about anything. It will all be alright,” he said with hesitant assurance.

  “That’s right,” Mike’s father chimed in. Ashley Wilkes was huskier than Jim Ramey, but it was all muscle and he was proud of it. Standing just over 6 feet tall, his wavy blond hair glowed on his head. “Between the two of us, we intend to get little Timothy back,” he said firmly. Ashley had always been one to strike out at a problem, and if necessary, wrestle it to the ground. He was like the proverbial bull in a china shop. Mike knew he needed to change the subject or there would be a planning session that very moment.

  “We both thought you wouldn’t be here for several more days,” Mike said.