by Bruce George
In a calm steady tone, Mike announced, “All right everyone, let’s keep it in focus. What we’re about to do is vital for all of us. We’ve got time to plan for the arrival of that convoy. And for God’s sake, don’t mention this to anyone on the planet. We don’t want to cause a panic.
“Do your jobs. Get the people we need on board. Then we can deal with the next event and I promise you we will deal with it. There is always going to be a next event, so we’d better get used to it.”
Everyone indicated their agreement, as Max leaned over and whispered, “Nice little speech, Mike. You handled that like a pro.”
“Thanks Max.”
Bambi had made some adjustments to the large shuttle, which enhanced its stealthy qualities. She explained that if they approached the Earth slowly, the shuttle probably would not be noticed, because it wasn’t generating any heat on its skin.
They released Al, in the large shuttle, high above the central area of the United States. It made its way down to an area near Nashville, where a large number of disabled veterans resided, due to the close proximity of the VA hospital nearby. The Pavilion was at the edge of the manicured grounds around the retirement center.
Al had arranged the celebration by making a large donation to a local support group and had been assured that eighty to one hundred vets would be there, most of them missing arms or legs. After being gassed, the non-vets would be taken outside and laid around the outside of the building, at a safe distance. They would be considered lucky survivors of the fire, although none of them would have any memory of escaping the flames.
Four robots that were riding in the back of the storage area would quickly handle the lifting of the vets into the shuttle. They had been altered to handle humans with care, thanks to the padded arms and some reprogramming that Bambi had added. By using micro-drones, her over watch would be better than any one person could provide.
At face value, the concept sounded gruesome…kidnapping old veterans and recruiting them for war in outer space. But, when one considered that these men would be refurbished and given new life as whole humans, it seemed to be a fair deal. Of course, they could refuse the opportunity, if they didn’t want to join. They’d still have their new bodies, a new ID, and money in the bank.
An invigorated Alphonso Benson walked into the pavilion wearing the uniform of a Master Sergeant. He looked to be in his mid twenties, which was awfully young for the rank. If anyone asked about that, he would tell them he was older than he looked.
On his shoulders was an improved weapon, which could analyze a targeted human and adjust the potency of the shot, before firing a stun shot. Mike felt this would avoid hitting a weakened old vet with a shot that could possibly kill him. With any luck, Al would never have to use the thing.
The idea was to get in quick and get the operation going. Bambi waited for Al to give her the signal. He walked around, shaking hands and chatting briefly with family members. He was getting caught up in the tales of the old soldiers. He felt at home with them and hadn’t had that feeling in a long time.
Bambi broke his happy moment. Al, come on, will you? We’ve got to do this thing. Can I pop the gas or not?
Sorry, Bambi. I guess I got carried away. Go ahead and hit ‘em.
Outside of the pavilion, several small drones released smoke to simulate a fire. Inside, several small drones had been snuck into the large room, as part of the flower arrangements and other accoutrements of the affair. At Bambi’s command, they began pumping an invisible stun gas that would put down everyone in the pavilion, except Al. He had been given an antidote that kept him from being affected.
As he watched, people began to drop and he was concerned. Some of these people were family members who had come to celebrate with their aging vet relative. Mike had anticipated their presence, but not in such large numbers. The plan had been to place them outside, but with this many people that would leave an awful lot of unaffected attendees, with no memory of what happened.
However, that was not his only concern. He was worried about the length of time it would take for the robots to get all these guys into the shuttle. It was hovering out near the tree line and once the gas had been released, Bambi quickly brought the shuttle near a side entrance. Also, there was only so much room in the shuttle. They had been counting on one hundred men, not an additional eighty or so family members, who weren’t even supposed to be there.
Mike broke into Al’s thoughts. I see the problem, Al. Max and I won’t meet with the President, for two more days; so, we’re on the way to help you out. Just focus on loading the vets first. We’ll see about the family members, after their loved ones are on board. Unexpected things happen, so don’t sweat it. You haven’t done anything wrong.
It didn’t take long for Mike to arrive. He had Max help Al load people into the shuttle, as he went inside to begin pulling out those people who would be left outside of the fire and unhurt.
Max commed, Mike, we can get a hell of a lot more people in here, by stacking them like cord wood. Bambi can reduce the gravity, so they won’t be crushed and if there’s any harm done, we’ll fix them later.
Good thinking Max. Bambi, how are we doing on time and what about the first responders?
We’re actually ahead of schedule, but that will change as we continue to load more people than we had prepared for. I personally took the 911 call and told the guy that fire and rescue were on the way. I inserted a glitch in the system, which will explain why the order was never sent to the fire department. When it’s safe, I’ll send the alarm and the appropriate responders will find a fire that is well under way and beyond their ability to knock down. Tragic!
When the large shuttle took off, it held 97 vets and 34 elderly family members. Mike felt they might be able to recruit a few of them, too. If they weren’t interested, they could be returned on the next trip to Earth. At least they would be rejuvenated and in far better condition than they were when they were taken. It wasn’t a pretty op, but it had accomplished the primary task.
As Mike and Max lifted off, the old General said, “By God that felt good. I haven’t been on one of these ops since I was a Captain in Venezuela, and no casualties either. You should be proud, young man. Your people have done well.”
“I am proud, Max. But we still have three more ops to go. Let’s not celebrate too early.”
They rode in silence for a while, and then Mike asked, “What were you doing in Venezuela?”
“Need to know, son. Sorry.”
Mike knew he could have Bambi check it out, but he didn’t want to disturb Max’s sense of integrity. How a leader was perceived by his men was very important to every mission. Probing a person’s past could drag up unwanted items that could affect that person’s perception of the leader and their ability to perform. Mike certainly had a few things he didn’t want Bambi to reveal and he imagined everyone else did too.
He focused his thoughts on Wayne. His mission would take place tomorrow afternoon and the action part of Mary’s mission would be the following morning, although she would still have to attend the meeting at Stanford this evening, to hand out the private invitations to her breakfast meeting the next morning.
Just about the same time the shuttle put on a show for the old fighter pilots, he and Max would be entering the Camp David complex in Maryland.
It was located near the Pennsylvania border, in Catoctin Mountain Park, about 60 miles northwest of Washington D.C. They would set down on the outskirts of the park, where Bambi had arranged for a standard government sedan to be available for their use. It just made sense to drive up to the camp entrance in a dark vehicle with government plates.
They knew there would be several checkpoints, where their faces would be put through a facial recognition program, as well as their finger and palm prints and a retinal scan. The results of those would be checked against an existing file of DIA representatives who were authorized to see the President. B
ambi had all those bases covered. In a variety of databases, she had set them up with IDs that presented the agents with unprecedented access to nearly any government complex. Technically speaking, their security clearance nearly exceeded the President’s.
Bambi had a tiny drone fly over the field where Wayne would be entertaining the aging fighter pilots. They would be shown the shuttle flying around, doing impossible maneuvers, such as flying backward and hovering. Then, for the coup de gras, it would disappear before their eyes. It would reappear in the empty hanger, where they would be allowed to get a closer look. That’s when Bambi would hit them with the gas.
In stealth mode, the shuttle dropped Wayne off a few hundred feet away from the hangar, in a parking lot. He walked in from the front door and out into the hanger proudly wearing the Eagles of a full Colonel in the Air Force.
“Gentlemen, I wish to thank you for attending this brief little affair. We’re going to show you a new aircraft. It will be the replacement for all space craft going to near orbit and as far out as the moon. There is a smaller counter part that will become the new generation fighter, which is several times more capable than anything on the planet today.” At least that much was true.
One old guy sounded off, “Hey, it’s hot and I don’t want to be out too long. So where is this damn thing?”
Wayne smiled and pointed out of the hanger. “Why sir, it’s right there.”
They all looked out, but saw nothing. “Well, where the hell is it?”
“There Gentlemen.”
Bambi brought it out of stealth mode and the men got their first good look at the shuttle, as it silently hovered over the tarmac.
“Holy shit! It’s about time we perfected that camo ability. We’ve been hearing about it for years. It’s a nice trick, but couldn’t you have made the thing a bit more attractive?”
Another man said, “Yeah, it’s ugly as hell. It looks like a flying brick. There’s nothing aerodynamic about it, at all.”
Wayne had seen the shuttle a few times in the hanger bay on the Mother Ship. In that environment, it seemed normal. Now, he was getting his own first real look at the outside of the thing in broad daylight on Earth, and he had to agree, it was ugly. It was about eighty feet long with no wings and no visible way to control pitch, yaw or roll. Of course, while it could fly in atmosphere, it was primarily a space going craft.
He knew about the addition of the two forward mounted weapons, but they were nearly undetectable, unless one knew what to look for. Wayne was impressed by the shuttle, but the old veteran pilots just kept the complaints coming.
Bambi commed, Screw ‘em. Let’s skip the show and just gas ‘em now.
No. Give them their show. They’ll remember it, when we wake them up and the memory will have a positive effect on their decision to join us.
The shuttle began to move straight up. That wasn’t new, but when it rolled over and over, at sixty revolutions per minute, interest quickly began to build. Bambi put it through an impossible series of maneuvers, before she had it disappear, as it raced right at them with incredible speed. There were several gasps, when it went completely invisible.
When it reappeared, it was hovering inside the back of the hanger.
“So how fast can this brick fly?”
Wayne grinned, “Oh about five times the speed of sound in atmosphere and twenty-eight times the speed of sound in outer space.”
Hey, it’s a hell of a lot faster than that and you know it.
Yes, I do. But these men would have trouble believing that. So, I threw them a few numbers that are amazing, yet believable.
Pretty smart kid.
Kid?
Yeah. Your Mike’s kid ain’t ya?
You’re becoming too human, Bambi, and a little disrespectful.
Sorry. No insult intended. I’m just trying to keep the moment light. I’ll hit them with the gas now.
The gas didn’t work as well as he had hoped. The wind was up and it blew in circular flurries, inside the hanger. Some of the gas blew away too quickly, leaving a few old pilots semiconscious. With reluctance, he stunned them and the robots loaded the men aboard. The few airmen who had been assigned to keep an eye on them were also stunned and left behind.
It was awkward, but for the most part, mission accomplished.
Mike sent his son a comm. Well done, Colonel. I’m proud of you. You showed those gentlemen respect and tolerated their insults, without losing your cool. Let’s hope the next two missions go off as well.
Thanks daddy.
You can stop that shit right now. The next time we’re on a mission and you call me daddy, I’ll bust you down to private and have you cleaning toilets.
Ah, there’s the dad I’ve grown to know and love.
As the old pilots were being loaded up, Mike and Max were just driving up to the main entrance of Camp David. They showed their IDs and were told to get out of the car. A Marine held a mirror beneath the vehicle, checking for a bomb or anything that looked out of the ordinary. Two dogs were brought forward and they sniffed around the outside, and then inside the vehicle.
While that was done, Mike and Max had to walk through a metal detector, after emptying their pockets. When asked why they weren’t carrying a firearm Mike told the guard, “Why bother? You gentlemen would just take it and hold it for us, until we left. It just makes the entire process easier; don’t you think?”
The next checkpoint was at a crossroad, a few hundred meters away, they were asked why they were here and whom they intended to see.
Mike was driving so he answered. “We have been sent to see the man who is currently residing in the Aspen Lodge.” That was the Presidents home, when he was on site. He and his family were the only people who stayed at this lodge. There were other lodges for guests, but it was rare for someone else to remain over night in the same house as the leader of the free world. It made the Secret Service quite nervous.
They turned right and headed for the next crossroad. Before they got there, Ten Marines and a Lieutenant Colonel blocked their path. The car was surrounded and the Marines had their rifles pointed at them. They were ordered out of their car.
The Colonel yelled at them, “Who the hell are you, and don’t tell me you’re with the DIA, because I know that’s bullshit. I talked with your boss and he never heard of you and he damn sure didn’t send you.”
Quickly, Mike commed Bambi. I find it hard to believe a Lieutenant Colonel has the head of the DIA on his speed dial. What’s the deal?
I’m looking. Here we go. He has does have a friend who is on the intelligence staff of the DIA and he called him about fifteen minutes ago, complaining that he should have been notified of this meeting. He pointed out that it was his responsibility to protect the President, when he was at Camp David.
The guy he talked to was a Navy Commander, named Thornton Thompson. People call him TT, behind his back, because he’s a real little pisser. It seems to me that both men are very turf protective. I suspect that neither man will advance beyond his current posting and he knows it.
This Lieutenant Colonel’s name is Fred Lumpkin. I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t have some long lingering resentment at being teased as a kid, about his last name.
Thanks, Bambi. I know how to handle this guy
Mike gave the man a small innocent grin and said, “Colonel, I’m sorry you weren’t brought into the loop regarding our visit. It was a very serious oversight on the part of the director’s staff and I intend to have it looked into (He had just made the man aware that his buddy at DIA could be in the shit, because of this outburst.).
“However, more than anyone, I know you can appreciate that when the President needs to be briefed on an urgent matter and that info is coming from the DIA, then it must be vital to American interests. When these matters are most serious, it is held closely at the highest levels. Colonel Lumpkin, that’s why we were sent, rather than an elec
tronic communication that could be intercepted. We’re here to brief him on something that is extremely important and needs his immediate attention. With all due respect, Colonel, that’s all I can say.”
The man looked up at him and Mike could see that he was pondering his options. At this point they were few. Mike wondered how a man like him could worm his way into a cushy post like this one. It disgusted him that the Military had more than its share of benchwarmers and martinets.
As the Colonel considered how to handle this, he looked Mike and Max up and down. “Damn, they sure sent a couple of big guys to deliver the goods. You boys are huge.” He hung his head, and the told them, “Well, OK then. As long as this doesn’t happen again.”
“No sir, it won’t I promise you. And I’ll have the failure to properly notify you investigated, as soon as I report to the director, or perhaps I should have Commander Thompson look into this incident.”
The use of the Colonel’s friend’s name spurred the man to react quickly.
“No, no, that won’t be necessary. I don’t want some stupid damn clerk getting busted, for lack of a phone call. Get going. Don’t keep the big guy waiting.”
Mike thought, the DIA doesn’t have stupid clerks. But, apparently, they do have at least one damn stupid Commander.
As they drove the remaining few blocks to the President’s lodge, Max told him, “Mike, you would have made a great political hack. You know just how to do the Washington shuffle. You played that guy like a fiddle.”
“Max, let’s give credit were credit is due. I couldn’t have done anything, without the info Bambi gave me.”
“True enough. But she didn’t tell you how to handle him. That was all Sergeant Michael Hurst.”
They were stopped short, by a polite Marine and escorted on foot to the lodge, where John Oldfield met them at the door.
Mike called out to the man, “Mr. Oldfield, thank you for greeting us. I’m Mike Hurst and this is Max Kolbe.” The chief of staff showed no surprise that Mike knew him by sight. Most power hungry people working around Washington made it a point to be able to recognize the man who could provide access to the President.
Oldfield’s eyebrows went up, at the mention of Max’s name, and then said, “There was an old Army General by that name, as I recall. But, of course that couldn’t be you. He’s probably dead by now.”
Max replied, “Yes, he was my great uncle and a wonderful man.”
Oldfield looked as though he disagreed, but kept his opinion to himself.
“Gentlemen, welcome to Camp David. The President and I are anxious to hear what you’ve been sent here to say. Please come with me.”
Oldfield led them around the circular driveway and up to the front of the rather plain looking one story house. The wood construction was unimpressive and painted a dull gray. Over the front door was a simple sign that read, “ASPEN.”
Bambi, there has got to be better security here than I’m seeing.
There is. You really need to practice with your body, like your eyes for instance. You’ve been on several cameras, since you entered the property. There are two snipers who have both of you in their sights. You would have seen them, if you had used your infrared option for your eyes. Oh, and you probably would have seen the guy down in a hole to the left of the front door and another one to the right, also with rifles on you.
There is a small shed, fifty meters to the left of the lodge. It has a riding lawn mower parked in front, but it’s all fake. That shed has two agents inside monitoring the camera feeds.
Mike could almost feel the presence of the cameras on him and armed agents hidden nearby. It’s as it should be for the President, he thought.
The chief of staff led them through the front door, and they found themselves in the living room. Geez, he thought, there isn’t even a foyer. I was expecting something a bit grander than this. After all, this guy is the President.
They walked straight through the living room, across a lovely sun room and out onto the upper terrace. The President, Robert Stassen, was on the phone chatting quietly. He held up a finger of one hand, without looking at them, indicating that he would be with them shortly.
Max Commed, That’s a typical move to signal that we’re not as important as some phone call. I’m surprised that a man who had risen to the highest position in the land would feel the need for such mid-level bullshit.
Bambi added, He is on an important call. He’s talking to the chef about dinner.
After putting down the phone, he looked up and coldly said, “Well, what’s so important.”
Mike spoke first. “Mr. President, we are tasked with explaining a serious threat to our country and I’m afraid it’s for your ears only.” He looked over at John Oldfield.
The President waved his hand, as he told them, “This is my chief of staff, gentlemen. He hears everything. If you insist on his leaving, I’ll just tell him about it later, after you have been dismissed.”
Mike commed, Bambi, gas ‘em all except the President.
Dozens of drones, so small they seemed like gnats, went to work hovering near the heads of John Oldfield and all the Marines and agents who were on overwatch. In three seconds, they were all down.
We are good to go, General. I’ll keep a close watch on anyone else I see.
The President looked shocked, when he saw his chief of staff crumble in a heap. Before he could react, Mike pulled a single shot weapon from his left sleeve. It was one of Al Benson’s ideas, a miniature version of the gel gun, which Bambi had crafted. He aimed it at Bob Stassen and fired a burst of the goo into the man’s neck.
The shock on the President’s face was understandable. He thought he had been assassinated. The man was paralyzed, but otherwise, he was awake and fully aware of his surroundings.
Max ran over to him and caught him, before he could be injured, as he fell. Mike was right behind him, and took up a position on the other side. They carefully placed him in a chair, as Mike assured the frightened man, “Mr. President, I am truly sorry we had to do it this way. But, we couldn’t come up with any other way to make you understand what we’re about to tell to you is true.”
Stassen’s eyes glared at him, but otherwise the man was unable to move.
Max said, “Sir, your chief of staff and all of your Marines and Secret Service agents have been knocked out. Unlike you, they are completely anesthetized. When they awake, they will have no memory of this. You will.”
Kolbe looked at Mike, and nodded. Mike began, “Sir, we could not have done any of this without the aid of items we have received from an alien. And yes, I’m talking about an extra-terrestrial…ET if you will.
“I’m going to bring him here in a moment, but first, let me bring you up to date.”
He proceeded to explain some of the details about his being kidnapped by a Thorian, who had been a slave to Saurans. Then he spoke of the situation, regarding the Saurans and how they had been retrieving humans for determining their worth as slaves.
He explained how it seemed that once these Saurans realized that a ship of theirs was missing in our solar system, they would probably see humans as being at fault and destroy the Earth. If the human race was to survive, they needed to act now, in order to have any chance at all.
“That we don’t have years to get all the world governments to work out their differences is obvious, sir. Also, you can’t just announce this, because it would trigger a worldwide panic and probably start a series of small regional wars, which could easily envelope all of us, in a planet wide conflict.
“What I’m proposing is to build an Army of super soldiers to man spacecraft, that we must build somehow. I want you to take a good look at me. I am Sergeant First Class Michael Hurst and I’m seventy-one years old. This gentleman is Major General Maximilian Kolbe and he is eighty years old. Both of us have received the benefit of being refurbished, so to speak. Also, we’ve received significant upgrades
to our bodies, thanks to the amazing ability of alien technology.
“If you look up my record, you will learn that I lost both legs in Iraq. As you can see, I have them back. This is but a small example of what we can offer the people of Earth. As you well know, nothing is truly free and this medical improvement comes at a price.”
He went on to explain the basics of the painful process he and Max had gone through. As he did, he began to detect a glimmer of understanding in the man’s eyes. Now that the President seemed to believe what he was told thus far, Mike felt it was time to introduce Jo and the shuttle.
With Max’s help, he carefully sat Bob Stassen up in his chair and turned it to the large lawn and putting green behind the lodge.
“Mr. President, watch the lawn and you will see an alien space shuttle. On board, is the Alien to whom we owe so much.”
Bambi.
On it.
As though someone had thrown a light switch, the shuttle appeared before the leader of the free world. A hatch opened and down walked Jo, hopping the last two feet to the ground. The President’s eyes followed him, with awe and fear.
Once Jo had reached the upper terrace, he bowed Japanese style, and said, “I would ask you to take me to your leader, but you are he.”
Even in his paralyzed state, the humor registered in the President’s eyes. Mike was glad that the irony of the alien’s comment hadn’t gone unnoticed.
Mike gave Max a nod and he pulled out a tiny plastic squeeze syringe. He shoved it into Stassen’s arm and told him, “This will release you from the paralysis, sir. The others of your staff have been treated with a different chemical. In a few hours, they’ll begin to recover; but remember, they will be very confused and concerned because they will have no memory of this.”
Mike sat down directly across from the President, Max to his left and Jo to his right. Bambi choreographed this seating arrangement. She said that by placing Mike in the center facing Stassen, he would establish himself as the key member of their little delegation, and that a man with Stassen’s experience would appreciate the subtle message.
They waited, as feeling and mobility began to return for the man. He rubbed his shoulders and said, “Was this really the only way to go about this?”
Mike spoke for them. “Yes sir, I believe it was. We could think of no other way to get on top of this quickly. Going through all the normal channels could have taken weeks, if not months. And God only knows how many people would have leaked the reality of our presence to the press, by then.”
Max, always pushing through the bullshit, said, “Mr. President we don’t have time to be cute about this. The entire human race may cease to exist in less than two years, if we don’t muscle up and prepare for a war that has only been conceived of in science fiction novels.”
Bob Stassen was no fool. “You’ve shown me an ugly space craft with really good stealth qualities and a guy who could pass for an alien. So, how do I know that this isn’t just some well planned scheme to get me to do something crazy?”
Jo took that one. “You don’t, sir. This initial meeting has been to introduce ourselves and to open your mind to the possibility that what we have said is real. We talked about a way to garner your interest beyond the importance of saving humanity. So, we have a gift for the American people, which they don’t need to know about right now.
“We want you to notify the commander of Fort Knox that he will find a half-ton palette load of gold, waiting for him, in a field near Baker Rd., just north of Godwin Army Airfield. He’ll need to get it into the vault; after he inspects it to be sure it’s legitimate. We are able to provide quite a bit more of that to America and a few other nations.”
“What other nations?”
Mike told him, “We think it would be good to have the heads of a few trustworthy nations, as the first to join us. We have selected English speaking nations, at first, the UK, Australia, Canada and New Zealand. After we have increased the size of our staff and established a training organization, we will begin to include others, such as South Korea, Japan, the Philippines, South Africa, Germany, France, The Netherlands, Poland, Spain and Italy.”
The president held up his hands angrily, “Hold on, just wait a minute. Those countries are our allies, but we don’t really get along as well as you might think. They’ll all want their own Generals to have a spot in the command structure. These things take time to work out.
“And another thing. Assuming I do believe you, and I’m not saying that I do, I’m not about to call up the Prime Minister of Great Britain and tell him we need to fight ET. He’ll think I’m nuts.”
Mike smiled. “That’s certainly true sir, but if we tell those gentleman and lady, they’ll believe it, especially when each of their countries receive a large load of gold and any other precious metal they want.”
Max jumped in. “Mr. President, there is so much more we can offer, in areas such as security, the likes of which you can’t imagine. How do you think we got in here? It was easy for us, because of our ability to bend and twist every piece of software you’ve got. There is no database that we can’t hack into. How would the Pentagon like to see the entire Chinese Military plans for controlling the South China Sea, or Iran’s plans for their nuclear weapons, once they acquire them? Better still, what if we could eliminate the nuclear weapons in the North Korean arsenal and the Iranian’s and the Pakistani’s and even the Russian’s for that matter. Does that sound attractive to you?”
Stassen shook his head. “That’s all well and good, if in fact you can do that. But in doing it, you could start a war without nuclear weapons. Think of the fear in our country, if we lost our nukes, and we’re a whole lot less likely to freak out than the Russians would be. They’d go completely crazy. These things must be handled delicately, by experienced diplomats, not well meaning military types. And, these decisions will need to be approved by the various representatives of the different countries.
“We are a country of laws. I can’t just approve what I think you’re suggesting, without congressional approval.”
Mike was disappointed, but not surprised.
When he stood, Max and Jo did also. “Mr. President, we’ll be in touch.” He looked at Jo, who held out a portable device, which could be used to access the communication units the upgrades used, the comm.
Jo held up the small comm unit, about two by four inches. It could easily be mistaken for an old cell phone. “Mr. President, this small comm unit can call us at any time. It is always on and when you call, we will be listening. It is not a means by which we can spy on you. We already can do that, without using something so large and cumbersome as this monstrosity. We will never reveal anything we overhear, unless you are in danger, which is highly unlikely to happen, because we have your back now. You are not under our control, but you are under our protection.”
Jo held his arms away from his body, palms up and said, “This is certainly an awkward beginning, but it was necessary. By the way, I’m told your wife has been diagnosed with an ailment that we can curer. We are able to do so; without the brutal methods your physicians suggest. We will return at your request and when we do, we’ll bring you a med unit, which can provide a complete recovery for your wife, Connie. By the way, it will take care of her diabetes too.”
Stassen looked at Jo in wonder, as Mike was thrown on his back, when a bullet him dead center in the chest.
Bambi cried out, Sniper, I’ve got him.
But, before she could neutralize the man, he was able to get off another shot, putting down Jo.
A loud crack and a sizzle came from a group of trees, four hundred meters away.
Max was holding Mike in his arms, as the president hid behind a chair. Mike looked up at him and said, “Ouch. That hurt, but I’m all right. What about Jo?”
“Like you, I have significant pain, but I’m going to be OK. Thank you, Bambi.”
You’re welcome. Sorry
I missed the guy, earlier. He didn’t give up his position until after the meeting started. I suspect the absence of any response on his radio and the presence of Jo got him thinking he should take a shot. It was probably standard procedure to use his best judgment when any of his fellow security people have been put down.
Mike stood up and said, “Yeah, I imagine that you’re right, Bambi. What about the sniper; is he OK.”
I’m afraid not, General Hurst. I fried him, in my excitement and desire to protect you guys. I hate to admit it, but I wanted to hurt him for hurting you. A computer wouldn’t have felt anything and might have just stunned him. I’m truly sorry, Mike.
“It’s all right Bambi, I’d have done the same thing. You had to be sure he wasn’t going to get off another shot.”
The President was beginning to stand and asked, “Who’s Bambi?”
Max explained, “She’s our technical expert and in charge of watching everything for us, and I mean everything. Don’t mess with Bambi.”
Bob Stassen was a quick study. “So, she’s the one who broke through our encrypted security net and handled the operation to subdue my Secret Service men?”
“Yes Mr. President.”
Mike looked at Jo and said, “I think it’s time we leave and allow the President to think about this.”
As they began to walk off the terrace, Stassen said, “Allow me to compliment you on your excellent bullet proof vests.”
Mike spun around so quick that it frightened the man and told him, “If I was stark naked that bullet wouldn’t have penetrated my skin, although I have to admit it did hurt. The upgrade does that for a warrior. As for the young man who took that shot, he’s dead and I sincerely regret the overreaction to my being shot. It means little now, but in the future, we will see to that man’s family and provide them the true details of this unfortunate incident. His family has the right to know that he acted as a hero.”
He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to remain calm and failing. “Mr. President, I might as well tell you now, so you can begin to contemplate the reality of what is happening and what needs to happen. I am a proud American and so is Max Kolbe. But we won’t allow the political machines of two hundred countries to screw this up.
“Look, sir, it’s like this. We are going to build a space army and navy that does not…NOT…answer to any one government. We will listen to all complaints and all suggestions. They will be quickly acted on, or tossed out, by our staff. We don’t give a damn about anything but the continued survival of the planet Earth. As for international politics…fuck it.”
He turned and left, as the President threw out more questions, which Mike ignored. When he entered the shuttle, Bambi said, “I thought that went well.”
Angrily, he simply replied, “Yeah.”
When Max mentioned that his clothing was a form of armor, he said, “I wanted him to find all of this believable. He saw me get shot, by a powerful weapon and survive, as no normal human could have. It provided a demonstration of one benefit from the upgrade process, thanks to alien technology that would be available to all warriors who join us. I’m hoping he’ll see that it’s better to have us as friends than enemies.”
Chapter 16