Jim 88

by J G Clements

  The Speaker and Leader showed up, and there was a surprisingly lack of formality exchanged. The Speaker plopped onto the end of one of the couches, and the Leader sat on a wood chair…Victorian?...on the other end of the group.

  The President was seated across from me, with the Speaker and Leader in neutral corners. “Is this acceptable, son?”

  “Yes Mr. President. Here is a phone number you should call.” I recited the number I had memorized, and waited. The Speaker had jotted it down, as did one of the Secret Service agents. A phone was placed on the table between us, and the President dialed it himself. As the number went through, I wondered what he would do if he got a busy signal? While it was going through, I did a Mindlink to my employer. She said hello immediately and asked how I liked the Oval Office.

  “Its great, as long as I get to go home eventually. And how do you know I’m in the Oval Office?” Laughter in my mind.

  “We have followed your progress. And we concluded the only place he would entertain you was the Oval Office. What he is about to learn will shake his world view. So he will defend it by using the solemnity of the oval office. We can’t see into the White house...well, we can but it would set off a lot of radiation alarms. And it wouldn’t do your health any favors, either.”

  “Won’t they trace this phone call?”

  “Let them. We’re counting on it. Now...I need you to say to yourself that you are the Recruiter. Because once this call goes through, you’ll need to make your pitch.” Dang…..I would have liked more time to prepare myself. I silently made ready to exhibit my appropriate personality.

  The call was going through, and there were several signals…hand signs, I guess...between the President, an aide, and one of the Secret Service guys.

  “It’s Ok Mr. President to trace this call. They are expecting it.” No one showed any sign of embarrassment. An audible ‘click’ on the line and the voice that I enjoy so much was there.

  “Hello Mr. President. Mr. Speaker. Majority Leader. We need to discuss with you what was reported a few days ago by the McKinsie Fleet.”

  The President interrupted with some questions, but I was watching the facial exchanges between the Speaker and Leader. They were both in some stage of disbelief. They weren’t prepared to accept anything she was saying. They’d need some sort of proof...something concrete. My attention then returned to the President: Polite, attentive, but not willing to commit until he had proof. He was not to be made fool of at any cost.

  “Can you produce anything that would make us believe you? From our viewpoint, you might be everything you say you are, but you could just as possible be some elaborate hoax, even if your half of the call is originating in space. A satellite could fool us like that, right?”

  “You are right. And it might be possible to fool your radars by concealing our spaceship. Like the one we are sending to rendezvous with the McKinsie Fleet. But we will prepare something for you soon that you’ll be able to judge first-hand. But our agent, please call him the Recruiter, will explain what is happening in the galaxy around you.”

  I gave my best Recruiter speech: The war, the sides, how our side was losing, and how Earth was now likely to be a player whether they wanted to or not. I explained exactly how the Earth could be destroyed, and how easy it was. As I finished, I leaned back a little and willed myself to relax.

  In my head, she spoke, “That was wonderful, Recruiter. Thank you. Do you think they believe you?”

  “No, not yet. They really will require some proof that you exist, and that everything you say is happening. You could be an elaborate Earth-generated hoax, or a renegade space alien with an odd sense or humor. Or the war could be real, and you’re trying to get us to join the wrong side. The good news is they are taking it seriously enough to have me here for this conversation. Any chance you’ll tell me what you did for them to want to pick me up?”

  “Yes, later. It had to do with breaking into what they consider secure communications. Will they do anything unpleasant to you?”

  “No, as long as they believe you. If you are a hoax, I’ll be in a deep hole the rest of my life I expect.”

  “If that happens, I’ll come personally to rescue you.” I took great comfort at that thought, especially the flirting. Maybe she’d arrive in a jet fighter...space fighter? Flying car? Whatever…I liked the idea of seeing her again, face-to-face, and I let that thought leak through. She switched to the phone circuit, “I think we can arrange a demonstration for you in a day or two. Would that be sufficient? We actually would like to demonstrate a show of...force, I suppose. We would like you to notify the press or whatever groups you think you need to help witness it. Is that acceptable?”

  Before I could tell her it would not be, the President did for me. “Until I can personally be convinced what you say is real, I do not want to release this to the press. There would just be panic, and I don’t think we need that, do you?” I was explaining much the same thing to her...I wished she had briefed me earlier... I could have saved her this trouble.

  She seemed to either mull it over a bit, or perhaps she was conversing with someone else. “You have a variety of air bases for your military to use. Could you choose one and be present there in approximately 48 hours? We really can’t get there before that, or at least not in a way that lets us get out again.” He glanced at a Secret Service agent, who opened a door, waved to someone out of sight. His reply was short.

  “We’ll have a base location picked in a minute. Please hold one.” Putting the phone on mute, he asked me, “Why will it take 2 days to get here? I thought they were somewhere in orbit or something?”

  I immediately repeated the question to her, and received a reply. “Mr. President, most of their ships are not built for operating in an atmosphere. Deep space ships are virtually helpless on planets with atmospheres. I suppose they could get here in an escape pod, but they can’t climb out of this gravity field. I also don’t know which representatives they are going to send. A couple of the member races could handle our atmosphere, but several could not and may not like being surrounded what is to them, poisonous gasses and in a gravity well to boot.”

  Taking the phone off of mute, he agreed to the terms. The Air base was one in Nevada. I guess the President was taking a ride in the next couple days. Personally, I’d never been to Nevada before. And I would like to see Vegas.

  Chapter 6. Somewhere in Nevada

  Ceres Report: Reactor is OK

  I finally got the reactor going and everything is sweet. With enough power to heat my fuel up to a much hotter state than mere combustion ever could, I now have thrust 24-7. The reactor can heat my fuel to much higher temperatures than you get by conventional burning. On a per kilo of fuel burned, there is no comparison.

  The problem was…you guessed it…over engineering. A bubble in the coolant caused the flow sensor to panic, and anytime any sensor panics they all do the same thing: Shut the reactor down. That sensor no long gets a vote. In fact, since the plasma exhaust consumes most of the decay heat, once I got the thrust back, I should really just make a zero-thrust on-off switch. McKinsie needs to know this.

  For the next 48 hours I had nothing to do, so the Secret Service and I had two days to kill at a local hotel…a very nice hotel I’m sure, though I didn’t get to see any of it. They spent that time trying to get me to talk about stuff, not knowing I had a secret weapon: I didn’t know any ‘stuff’. The 2nd morning, I packed the clothes they had purchased for me, and got to ride in another…or maybe the same…black SUV that had picked me up at my house. Thirty minutes later I was airborne, and 4 hours later I was standing on a runway in what I assumed was Nevada. No one told me, and I didn’t ask. A perfect arrangement. I could have asked via mindlink, but I sometimes think it’s just better to watch stuff happen. I think the agents thought I was stoic.

  The whole circus was slowly self-assembling. Lots of government cars, Marines…no idea if they guarded Air Bases or if they were flown in special…suits
, brass, what I suspect are some Congressmen or Senators. No reporters. I started to ask where the President was, but had the same question asked in my mind before I could. The Secret Service agent explained that he was in one of the hangers, and when our guests arrived, he would join them.

  With that forwarded to her, she told me to just relax and enjoy the show. And did I know what a barrel roll was? No, I didn’t but the sonic boom drew my attention to the sky, and I never got the chance to answer.

  The craft was sleek looking. It was a tapered cylinder, flattened, and looked just the way an alien spacecraft should look. It buzzed the field at a low altitude, did what I now surmised was a barrel roll, and then shot back into the sky. It almost rose out of sight, probably more than a mile, when if reversed course and came in for a pretty normal landing. It didn’t use wheels, but had what looked like skis for its landing gear.

  It sat for a few seconds, and though no one was moving, everyone was busy. The military guys were all speaking to each other, trying to figure out how stuff worked. It was a miracle they didn’t run out there to get closer. Unless the Secret Service guys were busy being told to shoot anyone who did. Congressman and Senators were choosing sides…probably now in favor of our visitors, especially if it got them re-elected.

  But what happened next surprised me completely. The craft opened…a lot like the private jet did a few days earlier: The door swung down and stairs unfolded out behind them. I was disappointed that it wasn’t more complicated. I had no idea who they were sending…I didn’t think it would be her… but when she emerged I smiled for the first time in several days.

  Yes, she had done something with her hair again, and her makeup was nicely done. She was dressed in long khakis pants and a matching shirt. It could have been a uniform or maybe it wasn’t. But it was her. I was wondering how stoic people waved while remaining stoic, but before I could figure it out, she spoke in my Mind, the sound of honey. “I told you I would come for you personally, didn’t I?” Standing on top of the stairs, she looked around and located me right away.

  I answered her back that I always knew she would. But a question came to mind that I thought important enough to ask. “In all our meetings you never adopted a name. They are going to need something to call you, or a rank. Is there anything I need to know?”

  “I have a title, similar to ‘Sector Commander” or maybe “Sector Cajoler”, but I think I will take an Earth name. What would you call me if it was up to you to give me a name?”

  “Helen”. I didn’t hesitate a second.

  “Helen. It sounds nice. Why Helen?”, she echoed back.

  “Because Helen of Troy launched a thousand ships.”

  It took her a second to absorb this…I really think she had to research who Helen of Troy was. It’s as if she’s accessing a data-base somewhere. She laughed in my mind. “I think the saying is that her face launched a thousand ships?” I didn’t answer, but I felt my face redden a bit.

  A military officer…a Colonel I think…walked over briskly and saluted her. Not waiting for a return salute, he snapped back to attention but didn’t offer his hand for a handshake. They spoke for a few seconds, and whatever they said, she smiled. It made me jealous, and I realized I didn’t want to share her sunniness with anyone else. But I controlled my jealousy while we waited. And we didn’t wait long.

  Someone must have decided the ship was for real because a Limo pulled out of a hanger, drove to within 40 yards or so of the craft, and stopped. A young man jumped out of the front and opened the door for the President of the United States. I watched as the leader of the Free World met with the first official of the rest of the galaxy. And like so many things in life, it didn’t seem to be as big a deal as I had thought.

  The next several hours were sort of a frenzy of hurry up and wait, doing things for the first time, and signaling total disbelief about what all of us was seeing. Besides Helen, there were four other crewmen, but two of them were not as human looking as Helen. Not androids or robots, they were certainly humans, but their faces could have been masks. Eyes, nose, mouth, yes…but almost like a rubber composition instead of flesh. It wasn’t unattractive, and after the first few minutes, you hardly noticed it.

  In the meantime, the Military guys did get invited aboard the ship, and were crawling all over it like kids with a new toy. A couple of the crew were pointing out how stuff worked. Helen was surrounded by a group of dignitaries, and was in discussions with them. I would have liked to have joined her, but she didn’t call me over and certainly seemed busy.

  Since arriving at the Base, I’d gotten to know some of the agents who were taking care of me. The Agent who had briefed me on my original plane ride had arrived out here and had been assigned to me. With nothing to do, I asked if I could sit down somewhere. He seemed to understand, or maybe he was just as bored as I was. We found a couple of chairs in a corner office of a hanger. We were probably violating some security clearance by being in there, but the ship out on the runway was going to change what we thought of as top secret. He spoke into the little microphone on his wrist, and someone brought us coffee.

  I was comfortable, just relaxing when someone knocked on the door. The Agent jumped up and opened it…I admired how fast his reflexes were even when he was supposedly relaxing…and one of the alien crewmen entered. Looking every bit as human as me, or Helen for that matter.

  “Recruiter?”, it was less a question than a statement. “Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?”

  “No, should I?” How was I supposed to know any of the aliens besides Helen?

  Sticking out his right hand, as familiar a custom as anything on Earth, the alien said, “Recruiter…I’m Jack, Jack Sullivan. Captain of the Oddjob.”

  It took a full second for me to remember who Jack Sullivan was, then a broad grin broke on my face. “You’re one of the submarine commanders I recruited, aren’t you?

  Though his face was smooth looking, part artificial, something unfamiliar, his smile was as real as they come. “Yes, I am. I’m now a consultant to one of the fleets and I have my own ship. Any interest in joining?” He meant me, then looked at the agent. “You too. If you want to join the Fleet, we are hiring.”

  I was a bit off-base thinking about how I recruited Jack. Then the ‘joining’ reference hit me. “I thought that this whole dog and pony show was to…recruit…a good deal of the Earth’s population? And I’m aware of no skills that would make me a particularly good member of the crew of a spaceship?”

  He was chuckling, and I think he would have liked to say more, but a couple Air Force officers came in just then, and he was gone. I guess to explain how something worked. The agent who had brought me in here, pretty taciturn till now, ask, “Recruiter? What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure I’m supposed to speak about it. Ask me some other time and if I’m allowed to tell you, I will. Promise”. I was about to ask him a question about food, when Helen…I liked the name I gave her…spoke in my mind.

  “Recruiter…could you come out to the ship and help me?” I looked at my watch, then explained to the Agent that I needed to speak to the Boss. Either the watch trick fooled him completely, or at some level he was the sort that didn’t want to know all that much. Someone to admire, I think.

  Before I got to Helen, I had picked up an extra Secret Service agent or two. And Helen re-introduced me to the President of the United States as a friend of the Crekie. He had been polite to me before, but I think he now saw me on a different level. Suited me…I was still trying to figure out how to snap my fingers and get a coffee…or tea…handed to me.

  “Mr. President, I’d like to invite you aboard my ship. Would you like a tour? As Helen said that, I glanced at the Secret Service Agents. If they could radiate concern, they were doing it now. They didn’t actually twitch, but they came close. The President, on the other hand, was charmed. And tried to be charming in return.

  “Helen, I’d be delighted. Are we going for a cruise, or is
this just a tour?”

  Her laughter made us all smile. “No, just a tour. I imagine a lot of folks would be upset if we took off for a…she looked for the word…I supplied it to her mind, “joyride?”

  “Well. Yes. As much as I want a trip”, his eyes admired the ship, “I think I won’t be allowed. I do have a few aides who would like a ride, so they can report back to me. I gave Helen some advice, and she almost turned her head to ask me to clarify before she got it. The President never noticed her movement.

  “Mr President, you have my word that when you are out of office, I will see to it that you get a trip on one of our ships. OK?” Presidents don’t gush. Being the leader of the Free World, or maybe just taking yourself seriously enough to run for leader of the Free World, means you had your natural gushing tendencies removed. But he did. I was also trying to remember if he had been a fighter pilot or if he was the guy who hated fighter pilots? Couldn’t remember so let it drop. He had just been offered a joyride on a Spaceship. Gushing was perfectly understandable.

  With that, they went for a tour, with one of the crewmen going first, then a Secret Service agent, then the President followed by Helen. Then at least another Secret Service Agent. I wasn’t invited.

  After standing for a minute or two with nothing to do except try to exchange small talk with another Secret Service agent…something I assure you is just about impossible… the Speaker of the House came over. And when the Majority Leader saw that, he drifted over, too. He obviously didn’t want to be left out of any secrets we might exchange.

  “They just called you the Recruiter…Son, do you have another name?”

  “I do.” Or I did. I haven’t used it much, and it gave me no end of pleasure that they couldn’t find out who I really was. I knew they had fingerprinted me a couple days ago without trying to let on. “Helen prefers me to use that title so I’d just as soon use it.” He accepted it…not happily but this guy has negotiated before and I know I would probably be aced by him into a corner if I tried to be too clever.