by Clyde Key
* * *
Merrill Tilson, at Ed Halloran’s insistence, convened a meeting in the large conference room of the Flagstaff office with all the interaction agents. The subject of the meeting was to be deployment of the squads as they had originally planned before Ed’s confrontation with The Visitors. However, Tilson insisted at the start that Arlene Sisk must be brought in on the wallscreen to participate in the planning.
“That’s not a good move,” said Ed. “Arlene’s a social worker type, hardly the kind of help you need dealing with a dangerous enemy.”
“I resent that,” said Tilson. “You don’t have any room to talk about good moves after that stunt with the floater! The Visitors weren’t necessarily enemies until you attacked them, but now—who can tell?”
But Tilson sat at the head of the meeting table and so he had the wallscreen controls. Arlene Sisk soon frowned at them all from the large screen.
“Yes? What do you want?” asked Sisk.
“Can you join us now for a planning session?” asked Tilson. “Halloran wants to get the squads back out there like we had first planned, but I just don’t know if that would be wise.”
“It probably wouldn’t be wise, but it’s moot anyway,” said Sisk. “There’s been a major change.”
“How is that?” asked Tilson.
“I told you I’d try to smooth things over with the president for Halloran. I did, and I must have done it too well. The president wants to set up some kind of military unit to deal with The Visitors, and she wants Ed to lead it.”
“Military! That’s crazy!” said Tilson.
“It sounds reasonable to me,” said Ed. “It’s a cinch we’re not getting anywhere with a bunch of social scientists running the show.”
“Just the same,” said Sisk, “ the president wishes to speak with you in person. You should report first to Secretary Burke for instructions.”
“Burke? From Treasury? But why aren’t you making the arrangements?”
Sisk didn’t answer. Instead, the screen went blank.
Tilson stared at Ed. “I don’t believe it! How do you do it?”
“I told you already! I told you she really loves me!”
15
May 17, 2112
It was an unlikely collection to call a military unit, comprised of fifteen old men and a couple of old women, as well as young Robin Wylie and Richie Taylor. It also included Marilee Sharp, much to Ed’s displeasure. He had tried to talk her out of enlisting because of the danger, but she insisted. Everett Lane had also wanted to join the unit, but President Litton insisted that he move to Flagstaff as head of Southwest AABC, with Merrill Tilson and Tess Williams returning to Northeast.
Ed had the group assembled at a training area near Kingman, and Lane came to watch them.
“They don’t look much like soldiers,” said Lane. “Most of those old guys have trouble standing up without crutches, let alone fight.”
“These are real soldiers,” said Ed. “It has been so long since the military was disbanded, there are no young soldiers. Even these soldiers have never seen any combat, but at least they do have the training.”
“Couldn’t you have brought in the UN police?”
“Hardly. All the UN forces know how to do is move in and take over a belligerent country’s computers. They have laser modems but they don’t have laser guns.”
“Of course. There’s no bloodshed that way.”
“But it won’t work here. We don’t know how to get into their computers or even if they use computers.”
“But you don’t have weapons,” said Lane. “How are you going to fight them without weapons?”
“According to President Litton, we’re not supposed to fight them at all unless there is no other choice. But we are ordered to make contact, and that includes forcing some kind of communication. It’s quite possible that will provoke a fight. But we do have weapons, of sorts. Let me show you.”
Ed called Captain Baines to the front. “Captain, show us your repeller cannon.”
Baines, a wiry, balding man who walked with a limp, stepped out of formation and walked over to a floater that had a tube mounted to its front by a flange. Baines opened the luggage cover and took out a bottled soft drink that he slid into the tube until it hit bottom with a soft thunk. “Do you want me to demonstrate, sir?”
“Yes, please do,” said Ed.
Baines got into the vehicle, turned it away from the troops, then looked back at Ed who waved at him. Suddenly the bottle flew several hundred meters through the air, bursting as it hit, and spraying the drink over a wide area.
“My gosh!” said Lane. “How did he do that?”
“It’s a trick the teen-agers pull, with a slight modification,” said Ed. “Haven’t you seen them when they’re hanging out together at one of the parks?”
“I guess I haven’t,” said Lane.
“Well, I have,” said Ed. “Just a few days ago I saw a bunch of kids playing around with bottles of pop. They put it on the nose of the floater, just in front of the repeller. Then they turn on the repeller and the bottle goes flying. I just added the tube to give it some direction.”
“And you think you’re going to fight highly advanced aliens with bottled drinks! Don’t you even have laser guns?”
“A few. About half the troops have them but they’re less than effective against the globes. We scavenged pieces of broken globes and found they reflect laser beams, even the beams with high ionic content trailers. They’re more dangerous to the soldier that fires them than to his target.”
“Your cannon sure makes a mess, though!”
“Only temporarily. Those bottles degrade in the sun. The cola on the ground will last longer than the bottle.”
“So what’s your plan?”
“Target practice for now. Then we go after the aliens and get their attention.”
Ed and Lane watched as the troops took target practice with a few cartons of drinks. After a few rounds, some of the troops could shoot accurately enough to land a bottle in one of the domed globe formations. Most could not, however. Bottles usually landed several meters away from their targets. But Captain Baines was an exception. The lame old soldier could usually land a bottle within a meter of its target at a range of 300 meters. When Lane stared with awe, Ed explained that Baines was the last of the old bazooka gunners and had developed a knack for this sort of thing.
“I have six more high level floaters in the shop for modification,” said Ed. “I’m having a hatch installed so the bottles can be loaded from the inside. You can bet Baines will be driving one of those.”
