“You are all doing great service to The Master’s Grand Plan. We are all very proud of the Geriatric Brigade,” Spooner said. The rest of the council members applauded politely, using the Earth-human custom of clapping their long, tapered hands together. Because their flesh was so hard, the sound they made was like knocking two pieces of wood together. It sounded like claves used in Latin percussion. After the members had settled, Amos Bright rose from his place at the long council table. He looked down at the Brigade Commanders seated before and below him.
“We know that Earth-humanoids must live at least sixty of your years before processing is effective,” Amos Bright began. “The data shows that their muscle, bone and organ structures cannot accept the rigors of processing sooner. It is safe to assume that the children are far too young to travel at their tender age.” His tone was reasonable; his argument, based on fact, was reasonable. Several on the council showed their agreement with a slight nod in Bright’s direction. Spooner did not. She just smiled and kept her gaze on Ruth Charnofsky.
“Are you proposing that it is dangerous for the children to be processed, Counsel Bright?” Spooner asked.
“Yes,” Bright answered directly. “It is possible that even the testing might cause them physical damage.”
“Thank you, Counsel Bright,” Spooner said. “Commander Charnofsky, please tell us more about the children. Tell us why you must go to them now. They have only sixteen Earth-years. Surely, you must fear, as Counsel Bright says, they are too young to process.”
Ruth measured her response carefully. Spooner had told her privately that the trip to Earth was approved, and that a new Mothership and crew was being readied. Had she now changed her mind? Had she been lying? Was she just appeasing Bright for the moment? Or was there some other intrigue at work here?
“It is sixteen years past their birth, Head Counsel Spooner. The children say they are ready.” Ruth stood up. “Commander Lewis agrees. We are confident that your excellent medical team will be able to assess their status without putting them at risk.” A few of the council members nodded with pride, but most remained stoic and uncommitted. “And as you know,” Ruth continued, “the children have requested their parents, and all Brigade commanders now on Antares, be present.” Several council members were visibly disturbed by Ruth’s remarks. Two rose to speak, but Spooner stared them into silence.
“Children can sometimes be impatient, Commander Charnofsky,” Spooner said. Her tone was condescending. There was a muttering of agreement from many on the council. “We train our young to respect the opinions and decisions of their elders.” Spooner paused. “Perhaps you have been too...uh... What is that word, Counsel Bright?”
“Permissive,” Bright responded softly. “And indulgent,” he quickly added.
“Yes,” Spooner said. “Without restrictions or parameters. No way to train the young, is it, Commanders?” She addressed them all. Ben Green was anxious to answer. Mary and he were intent on seeing their son, Scott, and were not going to tolerate a change of mind about the trip.
“That is how we choose to, as you say, train them, Head Counsel Spooner,” Ben said, as he stood up. “They are, after all, Earth-humanoid, not Antarean.” His tone was confrontational. Tension in the chamber escalated.
“Of course,” Spooner answered calmly. “But we feel a great responsibility for them. They are, as you well know,” she said with a patronizing tone, “a direct result of our invitation to you commanders, to your whole Brigade, to join us in space. This was surly part of The Master’s plan.”
“And we are eternally grateful,” Bess Perlman said, as she now stood and addressed the council. Bess, among all the Brigade commanders, was the most diplomatic. It was an area in which she excelled on missions – a talent valued by the Antareans. “But the very existence of the ‘Birth on mother’s home-planet’ rule signifies respect for the overwhelmingly universal bond of parent and child. And please understand that I am not criticizing how you have chosen to conceive and raise your young. We do it differently. Can that be respected?”
“Of course,” Amos Bright replied. “And yet, as Head Counsel Spooner states, we feel a very strong sense of responsibility. We think of ourselves as the surrogate parents of these children.”
“There is no doubt you played a major part in their, shall we say, entrance into all our lives,” Ruth said. “But we, like you, believe it was the will of God, of The Master and the great universal plan that He has for us all.” Her reference to The Master caused the most religious council members to nod their approval. Ruth gathered strength from their affirmation. “We believe The Master has chosen this as our time to travel among the stars and galaxies beyond. As Counsel Bright has reminded us many times - we are all only His instruments.”
Earlier in Antarean evolution, a Society of Holy Ones, what Earth-humans would call priests, gained control of the governmental processes and institutions on the ice planet, much like the Popes had in Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries and as the Mullahs in Muslim countries on Earth had in the late 20th century. It was at a time when Antareans lived closer to the surface. Up to that point, their survival had been based on genetically manipulating their race into a more cold-blooded species. The Holy Ones’ religious dogma stated that The Master found these practices an abomination. They advocated cessation of genetic manipulation and a return to the ways of the past. But that would shorten life spans and decrease the population. A period of three years of debate and political unrest between the fanatical religious Holy Ones and the secular, scientifically oriented Antareans was followed by violence – a religious war that, in the end, attained nothing more than destruction and chaos. As happens in all societies that wish to survive and flourish, the radicals and religious zealots were subdued or eliminated. Negotiation and compromise eventually prevailed. Introspection became the watchword.
As inward contemplation brought peace, the Antareans sought their physical survival from within, as well. They moved deeper underground, further from the frozen wasteland of the surface, closer to the warmer core of their planet. They tapped Antares enormous geothermal energy and expanded their scientific horizons. They co-mingled religion with purpose as they developed the ability to travel in space, maintaining it was the will of The Master. They proclaimed they were a chosen race whose mission was to carry word of the Grand Plan throughout the Universe, to all life.
“But of course, Commander Charnofsky,” Spooner said softly. “We are all only here to serve the Master’s will.”
“And as such,” Amos Bright continued, “we must have the best interests of the children in mind. They, too, are His work, are they not?”
“We are grateful for your concern, Counsel Bright,” Art Perlman said, as he now stood up next to his wife. “Not withstanding medical evidence to the contrary, we too accept their presence as a gift from God. But the children say they are ready to leave Earth. Our sacred promise to them was to return when it was time for them to join with their parents in space. The children say that time is now.” His manner was respectful but firm. He took his wife’s arm, as a few of the council members frowned, showing their displeasure.
Spooner did not want this meeting to become mired in religious interpretation. The Antarean perception of The Master, and Earth-humans’ perception of God, were not totally interchangeable. The concept that Antareans were The Master’s instruments was a primary proclamation made overtly in their contacts with other beings. But respect for the beliefs of others was a primary prerequisite for all successful space travelers and traders. Head Counsel Spooner referred to some documents in front of her. She shuffled them with her long, agile, tapered fingers.
“We have the emergence of the Sloor to consider.” The five Brigade commanders were surprised at the sudden change of subject. “That event is due in a short time. In her last communiqué, Commander Beam requested a council member be dispatched to Klane as Ambassador. We will require a Brigade commander on the mission as communicator.”
Ruth now understood Spooner’s concern. All the available Brigade commanders were scheduled to go on the Earth trip. That meant there would be no commander left on Antares for the trip to Klane, and no commander remaining on Antares to receive messages. They would have to rely on Antarean intergalactic communications – a system that took time.
“Joe and Alma Finley are on Klane,” Bess Perlman suggested.
“Communication will be necessary during the trip,” Bright responded quickly.
“We are stretched so thin,” Ruth told Spooner. “There are only ten of us – all that was required when we replaced your cocooned army. Had we known our services would be in such demand, we would have volunteered more of us to become commanders. But now, well frankly, I don’t know if any more of the Brigade are willing to undergo that change. They have their work; their plans; their lives. Many have mates and are anxious to know about the children so that they might start families of their own.” Ruth’s words left no doubt that she and the other commanders understood their importance to the Antareans and their maintaining their position in inter-galactic travel and trade.
“Gideon Mersky is willing to become a commander,” Amos Bright announced.
“We have our doubts that Mr. Mersky is commander material,” Ruth responded firmly. “However, we are open-minded and willing to explore his conversion.” She turned back to Spooner. “But that will have to wait until he has adjusted to processing and his newly acquired powers. We all remember that it took some of us longer than others to accept our new physical and mental prowess.
“If we are to send an Ambassador to Klane, and all Brigade commanders are unavailable, Mr. Mersky’s conversion may uh, well, it may have to be expedited,” Bright suggested. Spooner and four other counsel members nodded affirmatively. Ruth Charnofsky was about to dispute the point, but Art Perlman spoke out with a solution.
“I will go to Klane,” he stated flatly.
“And I will remain here to receive,” Bess Perlman added as she took her husband’s hand. “As anxious as we are to see the children, we have no child of our own at Butterfly House.”
“But I understood the children wanted all of you there,” Bright said. He was not happy with this turn of events. He wanted Mersky processed to commander.
“That may be true,” Art Perlman said, “but as Head Counsel Spooner so aptly pointed out, there is no need to be too indulgent. I’m certain the children will understand.”
“Excellent,” Spooner said. Amos Bright knew Mersky’s conversion to Brigade commander would have to wait.
“If that is settled, may I suggest you get your Ambassador to Klane immediately? The Sloor have already emerged,” Ben Green abruptly announced. The Antarean High Council was stunned. “We had a message a moment before you called us into this meeting. The full text is not yet complete, but I can confirm that they are communicating. Commander Beam urgently requests a counsel member’s presence.” Ben decided not to elaborate on Joe Finley’s transmission to Bernie Lewis. And he most certainly did not want to reveal the children’s involvement with the Sloor.
“Already emerged? Most interesting. Thank you, Commander Green. When you have deciphered the message completely, please bring it to me personally,” Spooner requested.
“Of course, Head Counsel Spooner. Without delay,” Ben bowed respectfully.
“Then we are agreed,” Spooner said with finality. “The Earth mission will go forward. The children will be tested.” She turned to Ben Green. “And a message will be sent to Commander Beam, informing her that an Ambassador will depart for Klane as soon as a Mothership can be readied.”
“Consider it done,” Ben Green told her, bowing again. Spooner then turned her attention to Amos Bright.
“I have heard rumors that you yearn to travel again, Counsel Bright. Is that true?” Her question caught him off guard.
“I uh... Well, I cannot deny that at times I miss the life,” Bright answered, perhaps too quickly. “But my work here is most interesting and I...” Spooner raised her translucent palm to silence him. Her silky outer robe slid back, revealing a thin pale arm adorned with the markings of a Priest of The Master’s House – the highest religious order on Antares. Ruth Charnofsky took notice. Spooner held a higher status in Antarean society than she had imagined. The marking placed her at the very apex of the planet’s power structure. Although this High Council, and others subservient to it in all Antarean cities, was the public face of government, they were controlled by a conclave of newly anointed and self-appointed techno-priests – a throwback to the old religious power structure. But instead of worship of The Master, they attributed all to technology that The Master provided. The impending leap to inter-galactic travel was, they had proclaimed, the ultimate proof of their direct ties to The Master’s work.
“We appoint Counsel Amos Bright, Ambassador to the Sloor of Klane, in the Rigel system of our Galaxy. On behalf of Antares, you will carry our official greeting to our new friends, the Sloor.”
The rest of the council stood and emitted a high pitched, howling sound – the Antarean sign of great approbation.
Humbly, Amos Bright rose and bowed to Spooner. “I am honored to be chosen, Head Counsel.”
“Yes. Yes. A great honor,” Spooner muttered, as she set aside the papers in front of her and gazed down sternly at the five Brigade commanders standing before her. Her silence spoke volumes. These five Earth-humans, and their whole Brigade, troubled her. “And now, let us join the great gathering and pay our respects to the Geriatric Brigade for their outstanding work on behalf of all Antarean Councils,” Spooner proclaimed. She then adjourned the meeting.
CHAPTER NINE - A SECRET EXPOSED
After Bernie Lewis had processed Joe Finley’s entire message from Klane, he revealed its contents to Rose, but told no one else. He knew the children were aware of the commanders’ new communication ability, but they did not mention it to him during lunch, and he did not broach the subject. Joe Finley’s message regarding the children’s involvement with the Sloor confirmed Bernie’s suspicions.
A planning session to receive the visitors from Antares took most of the afternoon. The staff and children met on the western patio of Butterfly House, overlooking the cove, dock and beach. They worked until sunset. There would be more than fifty beings to bring down from the Mothership -- parents, commanders, Antarean medical officers and perhaps observers from the Antarean High Council. The mission’s sole purpose was to test the children. Based on the results, their future would be determined. But from the moment the meeting began, it was clear that the children were going to have a major say in that future.
“Can’t the Mothership come here directly?” Beam Amato asked. “No. This is one of the new inter-galactic vessels.
They are much larger and might be detected. It will likely moon-park on the dark side,” “ Philip Margolin told her.
“Agreed,” Alicia Sanchez Margolin added. “We can shuttle everyone down here with our Probeship at night. At the time of the estimated arrival, the Persieds radiant meteor shower will be at its peak. It’s a perfect cover.”
“Or, if we get bad weather, they can be brought down in daytime,” Philip added.
“None of that is necessary,” Bernie Lewis said. “This Mothership carries Shuttlecraft and Probeships that are capable of masking. Our visitors will make their way down to us themselves.”
“What about Gideon Mersky?” Eric Erhardt asked.
“What about him?” Bernie responded, wondering how the children knew Mersky was on Antares. Amos Bright had used Jack Fischer to contact the retired Defense Secretary. Perhaps they picked up the information from Phil Doyle, Jack’s close friend who was currently visiting Butterfly House.
“Is he coming here?” The more intense Joshua Erhardt, Eric’s twin, spoke up. His talents as a seer and sensitive were well established.
“I have not heard,” Bernie answered honestly.
“And, Uncle Bernie,” Eric chimed in. “Ca
n you tell us why that Gideon Mersky may be processed to commander?” The question surprised Bernie. He no idea that anyone had offered Mersky a Brigade commander’s position.
“I know nothing about that either,” Bernie said. “Where did you guys hear all this?” The children remained silent. “Okay,” Bernie continued, still trying to avoid confrontation. “I’ll check it out and let you know.”
“It might be dangerous for him to come here,” Melody Messina said. Was this a threat, Bernie wondered? Where were the children’s questions coming from? And why?
“Dangerous, Melody?” Rose asked. “Why would he be dangerous? And to whom?”
“He doesn’t know that we are here,” Melody answered.
“That’s true,” Bernie said, still unsure what the children were after.
“I imagine since that information was kept from him, he might be angry about it,” Melody continued. “And with the powers of a commander...well, he could make trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Phil Margolin asked with growing alarm, concerned that the children were being unusually assertive. Melody hesitated a moment, as if silently checking with her siblings in a manner the Lewis’s could not detect.
“We think it is possible that he might want us, at least some of us, to remain behind on Earth,” she finally answered.
Rose was curious about Melody’s response. Why would Mersky want that to happen? He couldn’t overrule Chief Commander Ruth Charnofsky, or the Antarean Mothership Commander, whoever that might be. But before Rose could say anything, Alicia Margolin spoke up.
“And what, may I ask, is wrong with that? Earth is, after all, your home planet. With the abilities you have, it might be a very positive thing for some of you to remain behind.” The children immediately reacted negatively to her suggestion. They shook their heads, uttering several idiomatic objections.
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