by Jimmy Guieu
Soon complete messages, clear and precise, came to them from the few crew members who got back to their ships and into space. In a minute Zimko and Tlyka knew all about the disaster.
“The idiots!” the Man from Outer Space was furious.
“Those poor people, you should say,” Tlyka corrected him gently. “They don’t know what they’re getting themselves into by acting like this. All alone the Earthlings will be easy prey for the Denebians, who have fooled them by making us the lying conquerors pretending to be their allies.”
“That’s the sad truth,” Zimko agreed. “It’s too late now to explain it to them. If we land again the maniacs will slaughter us… even though we could easily get the better of them without the slightest risk to us. If only they’d waited before killing everyone. It would have been so simple to accuse us openly. We could have tried to justify… despite the diabolical ploy the Denebians had played so masterfully. Even if we’d invited the governments to send investigators to Kodha to see that there are absolutely no prison camps holding Earthlings, they wouldn’t have believed it and would have categorically refused to ‘throw themselves to the lions’.”
“What can we do in this no-win situation?”
“First of all free the members of the Alliance who remained loyal to us and of course free our imprisoned brothers.”
One hour later a squadron of 1,000 disc-shaped spaceships surrounded the Earth under Zimko’s command. A cold determination was etched on his face and his distress racked his throat. He had received no psychic message from his sister Yuln and his paroptic vision had quickly shown him the reason for this unusual silence.
Yuln, Jenny and Doniatchka had been the first to be arrested right before they started the “witch hunt,” which had left thousands of Polarian men and women lying dead. Now drugged with the other Polarians and the Earthlings of the Alliance who had fallen into the hands of the Assault Division, they were sleeping, unconscious in a prison, locked up together in the same cell. Tommy, the son of Yuln and Kariven, had been given into the care of a governmental institution where he would be well treated but living far from his parents, with the other children from members of the Alliance killed or in prison.
All this Zimko had just found out. A flood of rage reddened his face.
At 600 miles altitude the spaceships split up, their crews instructed with specific orders. And all the ships at zero hour were hovering at a fixed point over the cities holding the prisoners. Then they fired a torrent of paralyzing rays over the cities.
Fifteen minutes later the spaceships landed, some in airports, some in empty lots if they were big enough. Most of them, however, landed in big public squares.
The Polarians walked among the people frozen in all positions in the streets, sometimes at their windows or leaving a building, store or bar. They marched toward the prisons where they knew they would find who they were looking for in order to save them from the injustice of their brothers blinded by the enemy trick.
The vehicles, cars, motorcycles, buses and trains stopped by the gravito-magnetic rays, cluttered the streets with their passengers frozen in bizarre positions.
All the capitals on Earth looked like weird and wonderful wax museums.
The Polarians easily opened the prison doors and took away their own kind along with the Earthlings of the Alliance on stretchers, frozen as they were. The families of the Earthling allies, locked up in different institutions, were also recovered.
An astonishing spectacle of men from outer space carrying away their loyal friends, paralyzed but conscious. Through the city streets sunk in graveyard silence their procession walked without even looking at the people changed into more or less ridiculous statues.
This bus stopped just as it was taking off, with all the passengers leaning backward from the acceleration, and this girl with one foot on the bottom step, the other in the air, clinging to the bars on the rear platform; these two men ten feet away running after it—all this looked like a hallucination or the effect of a magic wand wielded by some evil, terrifying fairy.
After two hours all the surviving Polarians and Alliance members were on board the Fimn’has that were taking off over the big cities. At 200 miles altitude the Polarians watching their screens waited for life to return to the paralyzed. At the expected time the vehicles started up, rolled a few feet, then stopped right away as their drivers regained consciousness. Nervous and dazed they jumped out and called out to each other asking what had just happened to them. Those who had seen the Polarian patrols bringing out the stretchers despite their paralysis came up with all kinds of far-fetched ideas.
Once the paralyzing effects were gone Zimko gave orders to his squadron to head for the Martian base. “And now,” he grumbled, “the Earthlings are going to reap their bitter fruits! They couldn’t trust us and act in good faith. Lured in by the so-called help of the Denebians, they’re going to be slaves. The Earth is now at the mercy of the monstrous green monsters from Deneb!”
CHAPTER VII
In accord with a treaty signed by all the heads of state meeting in Washington 48 hours after the unspeakable aggression against the Polarians and Alliance members, the United States of the World had just been created.
In an underground department of the Pentagon where the eminent personalities were assembled, the President of the USA—unanimously elected for seven years to the post of the President of the United States of the World—stood up. The TV and film cameras were trained on his energetic face that was etched with fatigue from the exhausting work of the past few days. His graying hair cut short, a wrinkle of worry on his forehead, he addressed the assembly of the first session of the USW in the following words:
“Gentlemen, thanks to the swift action and timely alert of the Russian Head of State, our nations, finally united, was able to thwart the evil plans of the Polarians. However, as events are quickly proving to us, we underestimated their power and remarkable organization.
“In fact, these pseudo-men, a few hours after the masterfully planned operations sped out of earth’s orbit and headed into outer space. The Denebians, therefore, attacked their relentless enemies… and chased them out of our zone, which is pretty good in itself. But now we have to fear that these pseudo-men will try to come back on the offensive to take over Earth.
“Still, and this is our only hope, I think the Denebians won’t give them time to do it.”
“Our Russian friend and ally,” the Canadian President said, “might be right to hope for this. Our base in Shirley Bay18 has spent two days following the frequent flights of discs that are quite different from the Polarian Fimn’has. A film taken by two of our spectro-telescopic cameras19 have indeed shown the presence of discs at a very high altitude whose undersides are completely smooth. Now, you will remember that the Polarian ships had three big landing spheres.
“Gentlemen,” the President of the USW spoke again, “let’s not get out hopes up. But let’s get ready, no matter what happens, to welcome our generous, future defenders with open arms. The Denebians and Procyonians, although they are different from humans and almost became our enemies, have been more open than the pseudo-men from the Pole Star. They did not create secret organizations on Earth to infiltrate the people and later come out as allies. No, quite the contrary, they have always remained in the shadows, probably afraid that looking like ‘monsters’ to us would make us hostile.
“If we are lucky enough to welcome them to our planet, we must make sure to show our good intentions by treating them like humans and not like circus freaks. Christian charity makes it our duty…”
Forty million miles away, in the domed Polarian base on Mars in the heart of the Hellas desert, another assembly was gathered. Nearly 300 Earthling men and women, loyal members of the Earth-Polarian Alliance, were together in a huge room shaped like a horseshoe and with a lighted ceiling. On the back wall, 65 feet high and twice as wide, was a giant screen of transparent material. With remarkable clarity it was now showing the U
SW meeting held in Washington DC. The Heads of State surely had no idea that their so-called enemies, the Men from Outer Space, were watching their every move and listening to every word.
When the President of the USW gave his final remarks, Zimko turned it off and the space viewer screen clouded over while the ceiling brightened its blue light.
All the Earthlings had taken off their terrestrial clothes and put on the one- or two-piece bodysuits in Polarian fashion, which was much more practical and rational than many of our ridiculously outdated clothes.
Since their arrival on the Martian base the men and women were getting regenerative and rejuvenating treatments whose positive effects they were starting to feel. One Earth month from now, the Polarian biochemists had assured them, those of them who were over 30 would be back to their younger strength, energy and physiques! Soon, thanks to the marvelous science of the Men from Space, the Earth colony would only have young couples. And they would see this strange thing: parents as young as their children! Because there were some couples who were 50 or 60 years-old, physicists, engineers and scientists with their families, of all nationalities and ages, veterans of the Alliance who joined the organization soon after Kariven and his friends.
The latter were sitting on both sides of Zimko under the big screen, watching their compatriots who were listening carefully to their chief, their beloved chief to whom they owed their freedom and their wonderful new lease on life and longevity.
“Earth friends, my loyal companions of the Alliance,” Zimko began, raising his right hand in fraternal greeting, “the screen just showed us the instability of your fellow man, always ready to tear down tomorrow what they build today and to hate what they do not understand.
“Maybe we were wrong despite our wisdom and goodwill, to present ourselves to them as caring, selfless older siblings. Violence breeds violence, as they say on Earth. It’s a beastly aphorism but, alas, it still applies. Maybe we should have landed in force and taken over the governments to guide the civilization and condemn humanity to happiness. Later it would see us as brothers and not as conquering enemies. But we didn’t do this and our first contact has been shattered.
“With their savage aggression, with the slaughter of thousands of your and our fellow beings, loyal friends of the Alliance, the Earthlings have once again become fratricidal. We could, with no problem, overcome them and punish them for their iniquitous crimes, but this would only strengthen their blind hatred of us, a hatred being cleverly manipulated by the Denebians. Besides, a heroic return to Earth would only support the idea that the Earthlings have of us now: super-evolved pseudo-men set on conquering their planet.
“Therefore, we are forced to abandon men to their fate. The future alone will dictate our behavior. You, my Brothers of the Alliance, who have all grieved the loss of a dear one at the murderous hands of your compatriots or who have suffered under their stupidity, you all should understand me.”
Weeping, gasping and shouting in terror, two ten-year old boys and a seven-year old girl were hurtling down the side of the hill. One of them tripped on a rock and dragged the others down with his fall. They jumped up right away and without looking back the boys grabbed the girl’s hands and continued their mad dash, choking on pure panic and fear that nothing could assuage.
Red in the face, sweating bullets, their hearts beating a mile a minute, they reached Dompierre-sur-Yon, a small town in Vendée, where they ran screaming into the little church, the first refuge they saw on entering town.
On this warm, summer afternoon the church was deserted and echoed eerily with their sobbing. All three, literally drained by their frantic run, staggered behind the altar and collapsed.
Alerted by the unusual noise a priest came out of the sacristy and following the sobs found the three children huddled together, trembling convulsively and unable to control themselves.
“But… what… but,” the priest stammered, “well, what’s going on? You’re Jean-Marie Bonnet, right?” he asked one of the boys, the short, blond, freckle-faced kid hugging his sister in a gesture of heartbreaking protection.
He nodded repeatedly, sniffling.
“And you, Dominique, can you tell me what’s so scary that you burst into our quiet church? I hope it’s not a fight with some bullies,” he squatted down and tussled the hair of young Dominique. By Saint Peter!” he let slip out, “Jacqueline’s fainted!”
He took the limp little body and with the two boys right behind he almost ran into the rectory, calling out, “Noemie! Noemie! Quickly, call Dr. Chabert!”
The old servant rushed to the door at the end of the small garden next to the church, drying her hands on her blue apron, and after straightening her glasses cried out on seeing the priest running toward her and carrying her own daughter in his arms, “Good God! What happened?”
“Don’t know,” he priest panted. “Call Chabert, quick!”
While the old servant went off trembling the priest put the girl on an old couch. He filled a glass with some quinquina20 and used a spoon to force a little of the liquid between her lips. After two or three tries he managed to get her to gulp some down.
When Dr. Chabert, a 30-year old man in shirt sleeves, showed up carrying a leather case, the girl was coming around.
“Well, well,” he smiled at the priest, “if the doctor of souls is competing with the doctor of bodies, I’m going to retire. The child is perfectly healthy,” he said after examining her. “She fainted out of fear apparently. Her brother and their friend held out but I think they had a terrible fright.”
“But of what? They’ve been crying for 15 minutes and can’t seem to calm down.”
One of the boys managed to speak in a shaky voice, “We saw the Devil, Father!’
The priest furrowed his brow, cleared his throat, and said, “Come now, come now, children, don’t speak nonsense. The Devil doesn’t have the habit of meeting up with people personally. They’re corrupted enough not to need him to reap what they sow in their life… May God forgive me this impious statement.”
“How about it, Jean-Marie,” Chabert suggested, “why don’t you tell us everything, starting from the beginning? Why did Jacqueline faint? What did you see that was so scary?”
“The Devil, Dr. Chabert, the Devil! We saw him like we’re seeing you, right in front of us, in the woods by Charette.”
“Yeah,” little Jacqueline squeaked, still getting over her fright. “Even he was all green…”
“With no horns,” the younger boy said. “With big red eyes.”
“Not red, black,” Jacqueline corrected.
“Red and black with yellow stripes,” Jean-Marie described.
“And no tail…”
“Skin like a big lizard,” Jacqueline shivered.
“And claws and a crest like a rooster with…”
“Just a moment,” the priest broke in, trying to piece together this “Devil” from the anatomical fragments that the three children were throwing out at the same time.
“You said that…” The sound of a crowd quickly approaching the church interrupted the doctor’s question.
Shouts, cries and stamping feet came closer now. The priest and doctor looked at each other and without a word they hurried to the garden door. When they got there they saw a group of country folk with a few children running fast with a village police officer at the head. Red-faced and scared to death he saluted them as he ran by.
“My word, it looks like they really did see the Devil in person!”
An old woman, well behind in the stunning, staggering race, her hand clutched to her heart, stopped and swayed before falling down in front of the two men who rushed to help her.
Exhausted, in a quivering voice, she whined, “Caint be in this day and age! Big as this,” she sat on the roadside and waved her bony hands to picture something very tall without realizing that her hands were only a foot off the ground. “Like a toad! With warts or mebbe scales! And those eyes! Red and yellow!”
�
��Come on, Mrs. Martin,” the priest advised. “Catch your breath and get a hold of yourself. What did you see and where was it?”
“Was only one at first, then two others came out of the woods around Charette. We were in the fields when they come out. We were scared, imagine! And then we ran when they got closer.”
She had trouble getting up, even with the help of the priest and doctor, and new wave of terror made her shiver. With wild eyes and shaking hands she started panting and struggling to get free of the men helping her. “Lemme go! They following us! They gonna come here!”
She crossed herself and broke free. She scurried away leaving the priest and doctor dumbfounded.
“First the kids and now the farmers. Simple folk but not crazy. It must be a collective hallucination,” the priest reasoned. And grabbing the doctor’s arm. “Are you scared of the Devil, Chabert?”
The doctor, surprised by the odd question, shrugged his shoulders. “I’m a doctor and absolutely logical, as you’ve complained to me often enough.”
“Right,” the priest smiled. “You won’t hesitate to come with me, then. Let’s get a drink first.”
The other nodded and in the rectory kitchen they drank a big glass of Noah wine, which they love in Vendée.
“It’s still strange, this general fear,” the doctor thought out loud. “There’s certainly some natural cause but strong enough to have completely addled these good people… who aren’t cowards.”
Putting down his glass the village priest glanced over at a rifle hanging on the wall. The doctor saw him hesitating and with a forced smile, staring at the rifle, said, “Maybe it’d be wiser, right?”
With a nod from the priest he grabbed the rifle, put a box of cartridges in his bag and joked, “This exorcism defense will back up your vade retro, Satanas!21”
