Michael felt tense despite his training. "Debbie, how's it going on your side?"
"Most TV networks refuse to believe that the worldwide transmission of a single image from space is even possible. Advertising it may prove tougher than I thought. Good thing some of the executives in charge, touched by our previous campaigns, do trust our sources."
"Well, that's a start. Don't get discouraged Debbie, you're only human. Do your best and be proud of yourself for your successes. I personally think you do a hell of a job, damn it!"
"Thanks for cheering me up, big guy, I needed that." Debbie smiled and went back to her phone. Her voice sounded hoarse from too much talking, too much coffee, and not enough sleep.
She looked emaciated. Her careful makeup did not hide the blue smudges under her eyes anymore. Michael noticed the vial of Zantac by the coffee mug. He felt guilty, putting her through such stress in her condition. The thought of curing her had crossed his mind many times, but Debbie had refused, still troubled by his unusual powers. In any case, he couldn't spare the energy right now, and in two days the whole human race might die anyway. Michael had to concentrate on the task at hand.
Fortunately, devoted Walter backed Debbie up without question. His network at least would support the project. Thanks to the communication system initiated at the beginning of the Crusade, a constant flow of information could be processed and expedited. The data, propagated by a domino effect, spread to the most isolated corners of the world, bouncing off computers and fax machines in remote places.
Volunteers from all walks of life had answered Debbie's call for help. The place resembled an anthill feverishly preparing for an incoming assault. Little did they know how much was at stake, Michael thought, thankful for their dedication.
Of course, the New York Times requested references from the scientific community before publishing a single word, and no expert would comment, based on the lack of data.
The various tabloids couldn't care less about World Visualization or space technology. That piece of news was not sensational enough for them. So, Michael gave them the true but incredible story of aliens waging war nearby, needing help to protect the planet from certain destruction. He provided computer-generated pictures of Amrah, surrounded by other blue aliens with big elongated heads and huge dark eyes, and a scary portrait of the snake-like Lufriec. He even pinpointed on a space map the location of the starship hiding in the shadow of the moon.
When Debbie read the article, she looked shocked. "Do you really want to send that garbage? How can anyone believe such a distasteful story?"
"The truth has many faces, Debbie, and this, as unsavory as it seems to you, is one of them."
"Well, whatever it takes. Bad publicity is better than none at all I guess, right?"
Michael could feel that she didn't care much for it. “Right." This was obviously not the time to tell her the whole truth. To her and the crew, Earth Visualization on Earth Day was just a neat challenge to promote solidarity.
Each and every group involved in the previous Crusade was presently engaged in the race against the clock, actively printing pamphlets to distribute on the street, inviting the masses to participate in the World Visualization.
High-quality color photographs of the planet Earth viewed from space made their way to each and every newspaper, with sufficient ideological data to issue a decent article. Michael had imprinted each picture with a psychic compulsion to publish it on the front page that Sunday.
The formidable Asahi Shinbun, the most widely read daily newspaper in Japan, surprised everyone by responding enthusiastically.
Michael read aloud from the computer screen, “The Japanese people welcome the opportunity to improve their image in the eyes of the world. By participating in a noncommercial event, they hope to demonstrate high morals and team spirit.”
This bit of good news was received with cheers from the tired team as congratulations rained on the lucky volunteer who had dealt with the paper.
Radio disc jockeys all over the world proved easy to sway. Some saw the event as an opportunity to promote world peace. Others saw a chance to get ahead in their ratings. Sometimes, the little guys could make a big difference. Michael couldn’t afford to neglect any involvement, no matter how small.
Russia, or what was left of it, had everything to gain from participating, but in central Europe, where violence still smoldered, participation would probably be slim. Western Europe responded with quiet reserve, as usual. Poring over the reports told Michael where he should concentrate his efforts.
Not every country reacted with Australia's eagerness. Some Moslem countries even claimed a conspiracy of infidels against traditional Islam, while others welcomed the prospect of American military support. Central Africa picked up the challenge of peace as one more game. South Africa embraced the project. Central America had mixed factions, and South America's participation would stay partial. India at large, however, agreed to take part with ‘colossal enthusiasm,’ according to the bulletin.
The great unknown remained China. Its huge population could mean the difference between victory and failure. Michael needed their participation to save the human race. The greatest efforts had been deployed to provide information and pictures, but little information filtered back on how the event might be received or if it would be publicized at all. Hong Kong sources sounded optimistic, but nothing transpired from Beijing.
Through it all, Michael watched Debbie who fought courageously, losing herself in a battle that wasn't hers. This remarkable woman gave away all her strength selflessly for his cause, but he knew all along that each effort brought her closer to her grave. She deserved the title of Crusader.
*****
Meanwhile, at the FBI headquarters, a special witness gave a deposition.
"Yes, that's him all right." The Weasel stared with a crooked smile at the photograph on the desk, a picture of Michael Tanner.
"Are you absolutely sure?" The federal agent in the three-piece suit looked interested. The other agents listened quietly.
"I'm positive, sir, I swear on my mother's grave. That's him. I never forget a face. I would recognize him anywhere. He's a big guy, six foot tall at least. Mean..."
"Please, tell us where and when you saw him?"
"Always a pleasure to be of service to my country, gentlemen. Where do I start... I picked him up at Adams Air Field in Little Rock, Arkansas. You see, I was supposed to take him to Las Vegas, but he pointed a gun to my head and demanded that I drop him off over Yucca Lake in a military zone." The Weasel shifted his gaze from agent to agent, evaluating the risks he was taking against the amount of the reward. It wouldn't do to reveal that he willingly accepted the run to settle an illegal debt.
"How did he contact you?"
"He didn't. His brother did. His brother lives in Little Rock. I know exactly where. I can show you on a map. I'm very good with maps..." He produced a folded map from his inside pocket as he went on. "Last time I flew over, there was a weird aircraft parked behind the barn. Looked like some kind of prototype straight out of Area-51. Never seen anything like it..."
"Really? Please go on..."
And the Weasel went on and on...
Chapter Twenty
In the middle of the night, Michael teleported back to Little Rock. This was possibly the last day before the destruction of Earth's civilization, and he'd be damned if he wouldn’t spend it with Jennifer. He had thought of sending his family to Amrah's spaceship for safety but realized they would stand a better chance to survive on the planet.
When Michael materialized in his brother's trailer home, late at night, everyone was asleep. He petted Shadow, wondering at the cat's presence when the phone rang. It was Walter. Debbie had collapsed and been rushed to the hospital in a coma. Her prognosis was poor. In the late stages, cancer did not respond well to exhaustion, but no one foolish enough to try could stop Debbie after she’d made up her mind. Nevertheless, Michael felt guilty about saving his energy
for the great battle, but he must. The future of humanity depended on it.
Three straight days of exhausting preparation in Washington D.C. had drained Michael's reserves. In the small UFO that now served as his residence, he slept for three hours. He awoke rejuvenated and ready for D-day, but first of all he was hungry. In the dim light of dawn, he explored Becky's kitchen and decided to cook breakfast for everyone.
He wedged potatoes, sliced onions, fried bacon, beat eggs, brewed coffee, even baked frozen biscuits and made gravy. On special occasions, he forgot all about his vegetarian diet.
The first little head to peek into the kitchen was Jennifer's. "Dad, you're back!" She rushed to hug him, nearly knocking the mug of hot coffee from his hand.
"How many times have I told you to be careful with my drink, kid," he said jokingly.
Jennifer stopped in her tracks then smiled. "Sorry, Dad!" She stretched her arms around his neck to kiss his cheek. She was growing fast, but in many ways she still reminded him of the baby she once was.
Michael set down the coffee cup. "Now, you can hug me all you want. I hope you want a lot." They hugged and laughed. A pang tugged at Michael’s chest. Jennifer didn't know this could be their very last day. "How do you want your eggs, young lady?" he asked to hide his concern.
The noise in the kitchen, as well as the rising sun and the delicious smell of breakfast, brought bleary-eyed Becky, Dave, and Clara out of their beds into the kitchen.
"My brother's cooking. What a treat!" Dave poured himself some coffee.
"I know, I know. I can't help it if I'm perfect." Michael smiled, remembering old times. As the cat jumped on the kitchen counter to be included in the rejoicing, Michael fed him a bit of bacon. "How did he get here?" Around his family, he did not like to read minds and preferred asking questions, like an ordinary human being.
"The Frenchman brought him," Dave confirmed. “He’s staying at the Inn with Tori.”
"Yes, and he's real nice. I like him," Jennifer added with enthusiasm.
"Oh, is that so? You like him better than me?" Michael rolled his eyes in mock anger.
"Dad... I never said that... I never would." Jennifer paused then laughed. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you?”
The same good humor persisted all through breakfast. Clara and Jennifer went outside to play with Shadow. Michael watched them through the window for a few minutes, then turned on the television. Of course, he already knew what would play all day.
Dave and Becky had planned to go to church, but instead they sat down, gazing at the screen in pure fascination. Encouraged by the effect on his brother and sister-in-law, Michael decided to do some meditation of his own. So, he retired to the small alien craft behind the barn.
All over the world, anyone turning on a television set or a computer couldn't help but stare in wonder at the living, breathing planet, occupying the screen. Some talked about it, but most just gazed in pure awe. They pondered the pettiness of their quarrels over differences that did not seem to mean much when viewed from so far away.
The papers published the same picture plastered on every front page. Most headlines used the conditional tense, however, as to whether the space generated satellite broadcast would actually take place, using phrases such as, "If all the technical requirements are met today," or "According to unofficial sources," or even, "Hoax or technical feat? Find out by turning on your TV set." Some publications only mentioned Earth Day, safely omitting the worldwide television broadcast.
This was the quietest day on Earth in a very long time, even by alien standards. No big rally, no demonstration, not much traffic on the roads. The flight attendants were dumbfounded to find an image of the blue planet, complete with ethereal sound, coming out of their on-flight projection systems. Since no one complained, however, they didn’t try to fix the video. All the passengers seemed engrossed in listening, staring, and meditating in utter ecstasy.
As for Michael, tuning in his long-range psychic search, he shivered in the invisible seat when he saw a crimson fleet of a thousand craft converging toward Earth from the outskirts of the galaxy. The mother ship looked much smaller than Amrah's vessel but ominous, with sharp angles and crab-like claws.
Even at this distance Michael felt the dread like a cold spot in his chest, the same fear that seized him every time he caught a glimpse of Lufriec, the Reptilian lord. Michael shuddered, realizing that this was Krastinios' father, ten times more powerful and wicked than the son.
"O, dear Lord," Michael prayed, with all the powers of his enhanced psyche, "wherever, whoever, or whatever you are, please help us and be on our side today."
*****
Jennifer and Clara had fun chasing Shadow around. The cat didn't seem to mind the game too much, as long as he didn't get caught, pouncing on them from above every time he had a chance. This time, however, the feline found refuge on a high branch of the oak tree. Clara, who knew the tree quite well, proceeded to climb after him.
"Careful, Clara, I'm not sure this is a good idea." Afraid of heights, Jennifer didn't dare climb herself.
When the little black girl reached the fork in the tree, she sat as was her custom and looked in the distance toward the road. "I see lots of cars coming this way," she said, proud of herself.
"What kind of cars?" Jennifer knew there was no traffic on that road on Sundays.
"I dunno... Cars, lots of them."
Jennifer couldn't resist the temptation to see and, spontaneously, without even thinking, she linked her mind with Clara's. "My God, they're police cars. I've got to tell Daddy." She ran off toward the small spacecraft concealed behind the barn where she knew she would find her father. In her haste, she let her thoughts race ahead.
*****
A rustling and a hiss made Michael turn around.
"You called me?" The suave voice came out of a tall, creature, a greenish humanoid with no hair, scaly skin, spurs and sharp ridges, in full red armor. He stared straight at Michael through black mesmerizing eyes. Only the lashing forked tongue indicated some excitement on the monster's part. "I am your Nefarious Lord, Lufriec," the Reptilian announced regally. "I came ahead to meet you personally. Interesting craft you have here, Earthling."
Michael's heart jumped in his chest. Had he provoked the apparition with irresponsible thinking? No. The powerful alien had chosen to grace him with his physical presence, scales, stink and all, but Michael did not feel ready. He had not anticipated a personal confrontation with the Reptilian warlord. Hiding his panic, Michael recollected every piece of information he could muster about Lufriec and his race.
"I could use someone as resourceful as you at my side," the Reptilian lord went on, gracefully pacing about the vessel, scales gleaming, spurs rising and falling gently as he walked.
"You, Lufriec, interested in me?" The unexpected offer surprised Michael. "What do you want?" He watched the Reptilian's slightest moves.
"I want you to help me colonize this planet peacefully. With your skills, you could convince your people to accept me as their ruler." Lufriec moved with ease, strong armored arms punctuating his words. "There would be less bloodshed if the leaders surrendered without resistance. Your race should serve us best as slaves. I can reward you better than the Blue Angels..." The fanged monstrosity smiled.
At that instant, the on-board screen came alive under Lufriec's prompting, showing Michael adorned with gold, dressed in luxurious clothes, stepping out of a limousine, smiling at the crowd rushing to worship him while armed Reptilian soldiers kept his adoring fans at bay. Michael could hear them call his name. He could feel their love, their awe, their submission. He could smell their sweet devotion. "Power is my favorite," Lufriec commented insidiously.
Without transition, the screen now showed Michael relaxing in his own palace, as dozens of slaves attended to his every wish. Some poured him intoxicating drinks while gorgeous concubines vied for his attention by slowly removing their skimpy outfits.
"There are worlds to be owned,
riches, powers, potent drinks, drugs, women, you name it. Consider... I could even spare your daughter's life."
The screen switched to Jennifer running toward the small spacecraft, chickens scattering in her path.
"STAY AWAY!" Michael mentally broadcast to Jennifer, but too late. When the little girl saw Lufriec through her father's eyes, she let out a horrified scream, brought a hand to her throat, eyes bulging under an invisible choke. Michael sent his strongest jolt to get Lufriec's attention away from her, but the Reptilian only laughed and increased the pressure on Jennifer's throat.
"Stop it!" Michael rushed the Reptilian warlord.
Lufriec avoided Michael but released the mental grip on Jennifer. "All right, as long as we understand each other."
When Jennifer collapsed unconscious in the dust, Michael spread his awareness. She was still alive. "You, coward. Leave her out of this," he spat at Lufriec. "Your business is with me."
"And very fruitful it can be for both of us. Think about your future, the power of my gratitude..." The Reptilian smiled horribly.
"My future? With your kind?" Michael thought of Jennifer raised with the likes of Krastinios and Lufriec when suddenly, in front of him stood Veronica in the flesh. Her loveliness made his body ache.
"Yes, you could have her back." The alien voice rang in his ears, corrupting every fiber of Michael's integrity.
Damn, this is hard... Tears blurred Michael’s vision.
Veronica implored him. "I miss you, my love." Her sweet voice sounded like music. "Please, for my sake, give him what he wants. We can be happy together again." The daunting eyes he could never resist pleaded now, as Veronica, touched his arm.
Moved beyond words, Michael stepped forward to caress the soft skin of her shoulder. Veronica smiled and kissed his tears, then took his hand, guiding it though the folds of her dress...
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