Mission Earth Volume 4: An Alien Affair

by L. Ron Hubbard

  They met in a gladly shouting turmoil!

  They were trying to kiss his cheeks and seize his hands.

  They were women from the Gracious Palms! I recognized Margie and Minette and the tall high-yellow!

  “Oh, pretty boy! We have been so lonesome without you!” cried one.

  “We missed you so!” cried another.

  “Eet ’as bean a zentury!” cried Minette.

  My Gods, they were beautiful women! All bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked. What right did he have to such glorious creatures? He had never even slept with any of them!

  “We didn’t think you’d come,” said the tall high-yellow.

  “And miss this day?” said Heller.

  “I can’t think how you would,” said Margie. “After all, it was your idea.”

  “No, no,” said Heller. “It was Vantagio’s. He’s the political expert. And you girls did all the work.”

  Minette said, “Oh, an’ ’ow we ’ave work’! So veree, veree ’ard! We ’ave lobby an’ lobby, night after night, up and down. All ze girls ’ave really put eet to ze delegates: eef zey don’ pass ze bill, we knock zem up! An’ we boycott zere pantings.”

  “I think these UN delegates got the point,” said Margie. “Any delegate that doesn’t vote a loud ‘aye’ on this bill knows he’ll be under sanctions at the Gracious Palms.”

  “We really put our backs into it,” said the high-yellow. “This is one thing they can’t take lying down!”

  “Oh, I think the bill will pass the General Assembly,” he said.

  I was stunned. I had heard one or two of them mention to Heller, when he sat in the Gracious Palms lobby of evenings, that they were “working on something” with the UN delegate customers. But I didn’t have a clue what chicanery had been going on in the dark of those whores’ rooms. What was this bill?

  “We had better go in,” said Heller. “It’s coming up on the time for their final vote.”

  They rushed in a happy mob through the doors of the General Assembly Building and up to the information desk in the lobby. A uniformed girl there looked up in some disapproval at their laughter and bustle.

  “You have special tickets for us,” said the high-yellow. “The Delegate of Maysabongo said they would be here.”

  “Ah, yes,” said the clerk. “Five passes to the public gallery.”

  “Six,” said the high-yellow.

  The clerk had the envelope out and open. She counted five.

  “I weel zit on pretty boy’s lap,” said Minette.

  “No, I will,” said Margie with decision.

  The high-yellow was reaching across the clerk to the passes in their boxes. She picked up one. “Nobody will,” she said.

  “You can’t do that!” said the clerk. “We are supposed to hand these out on a first-come, first-served basis. But this is a special session and we are expecting the wife of the president of the United States and a whole party from the Women’s Liberation League. . . .”

  “First come, first served,” said the high-yellow, “is exactly the system we use, too.”

  The clerk grabbed for the purloined ticket. “You can’t!”

  “Can,” said the high-yellow. “This is our bill that’s being voted on! But if you’re going to be that way about it, why don’t you call the president of the General Assembly and tell him you are preventing Beulah from attending!”

  A guard came over. “I must caution you against unseemly noise here in the lobby and also if you are attending a meeting of the General Assembly, there must be neither noise nor applause in the public galleries. I think it might be best if you were to give the tickets back and . . .”

  “You tell your clerk that,” said the high-yellow. “And if you want to keep your job, be polite. Here’s your ticket, Pretty Boy. Shall we go in?”

  I wondered why the guard was suddenly escorting them to the entrance of the public galleries until I noticed Beulah, the high-yellow, had him by the arm just above the elbow. (Bleep) that Heller! He had taught these whores how to handle men. A traitor!

  They arrived in the public gallery, took front-row seats, and the girls were taking off their furs. They were beautifully dressed, satins and brocade. They got out compacts and repaired their makeup.

  The General Assembly was a vast hall of soothing elegance.

  There were just a few delegates on the floor so far. Others were arriving from time to time. They were very conscious of their own dignity as they took their seats behind the signs of their countries. But what was this? More than one of them glanced shyly toward the girls and made little hand motions that were extremely subdued waves.

  A tremendous bustle and fanfare occurred. The gallery suddenly swarmed with agents. The wife of the president of the United States came in, ignored by the delegates.

  Another bustle. Some females with Women’s Liberation League ribbons across their chests came in. Also ignored.

  What was this bill? A fear began to rise in me that Heller, whom I had supposed was down and out, retained a lot of influence. It was bad news to me.

  At length the hall below was apparently as full as it would become. The public galleries were packed. Things were ready to begin.

  Heller and the girls were picking up the headphones in front of their seats. There was a dial there. It said English, French, Spanish, Russian, Chinese. Minette, beside Heller, was having trouble with the earphones and her hairdo. Heller helped her and then dialed French for her. He put his own on and dialed English. He looked up at the glass-enclosed translator booths on either side of the UN emblem. The place was mobbed with TV crews and their chatter was coming over the line. Evidently the media thought this was pretty important.

  But what the Hells bill was it? To bomb the Voltar base? To declare Soltan Gris an international criminal? I was worried.

  The president of the General Assembly came in and took his place at the rostrum in the center of the oval hall. He opened the proceedings.

  “We are met here today,” he said, “for the final vote on UN Resolution 678-546-452. May I call for any last minute afterthoughts or reservations?”

  Holland got the floor. “It is our consideration that this bill will shake the world.” The fat Dutchman looked up at the gallery and covertly winked.

  India wrapped a robe about himself and said, “I believe it must pass because of the riots in Pakistan.”

  The US rubbed his State Department-type face and said, “It is our considered opinion, which we wish to bring to the attention of the media, that it is high time we bowed our heads to the true sources of joy.” And he bowed his head but he managed a slight smile toward the girls in the gallery.

  UK gave his trim military mustache a brush and said, “Her Majesty will wax very wroth if the bill is not passed.” He cleared his throat twice in the direction of the Gracious Palms girls in the gallery.

  Maysabongo got the floor. “We cannot any longer neglect our members. I move the measure be read once more and put to the vote.”

  Brazil said, “Seconded!”

  A man at the rostrum rose, an imposing scroll in his hands. A breathless hush gripped the hall. In a sonorous voice he read:

  UN Resolution 678-546-452.

  Whereas and wherewith, it is the wish and will of this, the General Assembly of the United Nations, by all sovereign powers attended, as follows, to wit:

  RESOLVED: WOMEN HAVE THE RIGHT NOT TO BE THERMONUCLEAR BOMBED AND NOT TO BE FORCED TO SHUT UP BY SLAPPING OR TORTURE.

  In the tense room, before the breathless gallery, the vote was taken, one by one.

  As the count progressed, the packed gallery became more and more on the edge of their seats.

  Then the president of the General Assembly called out, “One hundred and forty member states in favor! Twenty-six abstentions! I hereby declare the measure PASSED!”

  PANDEMONIUM!

  Despite the most sacred law that there be no cheering from the gallery, the din was deafening!

  It was being l
ed by the wife of the president of the United States!

  The whores weren’t content with just cheering. They stood up in a row throwing kisses at the delegates!

  The delegates were throwing them back!

  That staid chamber was being rent by chaos!

  In vain the gavel rapped!

  In vain the guards raced around trying to say “Sssh!”

  And then Heller was helping the girls hurriedly into their furs.

  They streamed out of the building with the cheering throng.

  The five whores made a circle and forced Heller inside it and they began to dance around and around him in front of the Statue of Peace!

  Breathless, they finally slowed down. They gathered in a group.

  Beulah said, “We’ve got to get back and tell all the girls that they won!”

  Heller said, “Almost won. It still has to go before the Security Council to become the law of the world.”

  “Come with us,” pleaded Margie, clutching at Heller.

  He shook his head. “I can’t. And listen, all of you. I forbid you to tell anyone at the Gracious Palms that you saw me. I don’t want any of you getting into trouble.”

  “Not even wan leetle wheesper?” pleaded Minette.

  “Not one,” said Heller. “I don’t want you getting sacked because you were associating with me. Now promise.”

  “Oh, Pretty Boy,” said Beulah. “At such a glorious time! They miss you, Pretty Boy. The girls all cry when we speak of you!”

  “And I miss you,” said Heller. “But go along now with your great news. The world will owe you a great debt if this gets by the Security Council. You did it all on your own.”

  They kissed him on the cheek. They lingeringly touched his hands. And then they sped away down the Esplanade.

  Heller watched them out of sight. And then he slowly turned toward the river.

  A seagull was walking near to him. “Well, seagull,” he said to it, “with any luck the Security Council will pass it and then you will be safe, too. And Miss Simmons will have to realize I am on her side.”

  I was shaken right down to the bottom of my boots. Yes, it was very true that if that passed, Miss Simmons would not be just at his side but at his feet! She would even HELP him get his diploma! But although that in itself was very upsetting to me, in that it could cost me a valuable ally, it was not the main reason for my chill.

  The raw, naked power of the man! He had used women to get a UN General Assembly Resolution passed! He could use women to do anything he wished! Widow Tayl’s impression of him proved it utterly!

  Oh, I had not crushed Heller the way he should be crushed! He was still dangerous beyond belief. What women saw in him I could not even begin to imagine—they were just putty in his hands!

  He was just plain monopolizing all the women in the world! He was leaving none left over for anyone else!

  Oh, I realized right then I had to do more! But what could I do? I paced about. What could I possibly do?

  My buzzer rang. I impatiently picked up the base intercom instrument.

  Faht Bey. “I’m just calling to remind you that the space freighter Blixo is scheduled in tonight. Captain Bolz always wants to see you, though I can’t understand why. So don’t go running off and making yourself hard to find again.” He hung up.

  Beautiful relief flooded through me. The Blixo! Of course! With brilliant forethought, I had already solved the very problem I was now faced with!

  With luck, the Countess Krak would be on that ship. She’d slaughter Heller for even glancing at another woman! She’d slow him down to a crawl as she had on Voltar!

  I laughed with delirious delight.

  I had it all solved!

  Smart brains. My Apparatus professors were oh so very right. I had smart brains!

  PART THIRTY-FIVE

  Chapter 6

  I began to work out exactly how I would meet these incoming people and how to persuade the Countess Krak to let herself be bugged as I had bugged Heller.

  It would be very tricky. To tell the honest truth, any contact at all with the Countess Krak compared, in risk value, to walking on the outside hull of a spaceship in flight! With no safety line!

  I laid my plans carefully and then, at last, satisfied they were foolproof, I began to get ready.

  In the first place, I must look, myself, impressive. This would give the necessary ring of authority to things I said.

  Hidden in my secret office, my General Services uniform had gotten pretty wrinkled. I got it washed by using a wash basin and dried it in front of the electric fire. Then I suddenly remembered that my rank locket had long since vanished. I didn’t have my old Grade Ten locket and I couldn’t afford to demote myself anyway.

  I walked about, thinking. I went into the patio and looked. It was afternoon and sure enough, Utanc’s car was gone. I scratched at her door. No answer. Luck! The little boys had gone with her, as they often did these days.

  One picked set of locks later, I was in her room. It was much the same as before except that she now had two additional mahogany wardrobes. They were also locked but that was no obstacle. I opened some thin drawers in one. Just as I suspected. Jewelry. Gods knew she had been to Tiffany’s often enough!

  The emerald locket I had once seen her wear was right there. It was not really a rank locket but it was the right stone and gaudy enough. It would have to do.

  I didn’t want to stay long, it was too risky. I couldn’t find the bug I had put under the rug, too small. I got out of there.

  So far so good.

  In my room, I buckled on a stun gun and put a couple blasticks in my pocket. I put a Knife Section knife back of my neck. I hung the Antimanco control star on my chest. Thus readied, I went down the tunnel into the hangar. It just didn’t do to go around these people unarmed.

  There didn’t seem to be anyone about.

  I hadn’t been in this place for some time. The two cannon ships were still there. The tug sat on its tail gathering dust. A few odds and ends of vessels and freight.

  There was a movement over in one corner. I peered closely. What a strange ship! A sort of a dome like a bell. And there was the Antimanco Captain Stabb in working clothes. He saw me. I went over.

  “So you come to see this little beauty,” he said. “Greatest pirate vessel ever built!”

  It was the line-jumper Stabb had been assembling. And it certainly wasn’t little! The Antimancos were on ladders testing the absorbo-coat with beams to detect any possible radar reflectance.

  “All done,” said Stabb. “Been done for two weeks but they kept saying you were busy. When do we go out and pick up some banks?”

  I had a very dim idea of such a project. I could see the headlines now, as Madison would say: BANK FLIES STRAIGHT INTO THE AIR—AIR FORCE INVESTIGATING. But I said, “Soon, soon. There are big things in the wind.” I wasn’t here for such nonsense anyway.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Stabb. “I was beginning to think, when you weren’t in here watching progress, that maybe you’d lost your piracy perspective and gone over to the Royal officers.”

  “We’ll get him, too,” I reassured him.

  I went over to the office area. I found what I was looking for. It was a cubicle near the main exit tunnel. I would not swarm aboard the Blixo. I would have them brought to me. That’s what you do when you are in authority. I had the guards move some of their equipment around and got a desk and chair in the right place. In they would come. I would keep them standing. They would know who was in control. I even got the guards to promise to salute me that evening. They shrugged. I told them they could have special liberty the day after and they agreed.

  The stage was set. I went back to my room and called the taxi driver to be ready at the exit barracks and when.

  I phoned the hospital and, with guarded speech, found that Raht would be ready to travel tomorrow. I told Prahd to be available at 9:00 PM that night and set up to do an operation without anyone else attending. He
couldn’t argue back on that open line.

  Because it was routine mission expense, Faht Bey couldn’t object. I got him on the secure base intercom and told him I had to have two separate air tickets to New York and the usual expense money.

  “I’ll need an American passport,” I said. “Female. Make the age about twenty. Get the photograph in the Costume Office as the female leaves. Have it all ready for tomorrow’s plane. Any problem?”

  “No. IG Barben just sent us some blank forms for drug runners, but I have to send back the name and birth date so they can file it. So what’s the name?”

  I was feeling a bit sarcastic. “Heavenly Joy Krackle,” I said. “With a K. From Sleepy Hollow, New York.”

  “You leaving?” he said, far too hopefully.

  “No. This is legitimate business,” I snapped. “So don’t goof up. Don’t forget to put old immigration stamps on it. I’ll leave the identostamped order with the photographer.”

  “I can include another air ticket for you,” he said. I hung up.

  I put on my uniform, hung the thing which would have to pass for a rank locket around my neck, laid out my bearskin coat and karakul hat to carry with me. I put some reference texts in my tunic pocket. I set out the complete audio-visio bug set, sealed it and put it out to take along.

  Actually, I was pretty nervous. Krak or any thought of Krak had that effect on me. The memory of her scarlet heels when she had stamped that yellow-man to pulp had always stayed pretty vivid. And realizing that I would not have faced that giant with blastguns in my hand for any amount of money did not make it any better. It ruined my supper.

  I vowed to myself that I would get her out of my area with no delay whatever and get her to work on slowing Heller down.

  I was awfully glad to hear the gongs going, down the tunnel. The Blixo was coming in. I grabbed up the coat and hat and headed for the prepared office.

  PART THIRTY-FIVE

  Chapter 7

  I sat, lordly, at the desk when the guards brought in the first one I had chosen to see: Odur.

  I was surprised. The little homo had apparently gotten the word from Too-Too. He had been on his good behavior. He wasn’t even in chains.