“What the hell…why wasn’t I told?” Gotlieb demanded.
“Don’t you ever read your briefing papers?”
“Since I retired, I’ve been putting it off….”
Johnson didn’t have the patience to explain the information was strictly on a need to know basis and he personally overruled the request that Gotlieb be informed about the incident, figuring he planned to retire anyway, regardless. That’s what his wife and kid wanted, and he would be happy to be rid of that privileged pest. Now things had changed, and the situation had become critical. He was reluctant to give the order, but there was no other way. He knew too much already, and now it was time to act.
“I’m very sorry, we have to get you up to speed, David. You’re going to be recalled.”
He paused a second before he continued in an almost matter-of-fact fashion, “I’ve talked to the Secretary of Defense. The President will have to make the final decision on what to do next. I’m sure he’ll want to talk with you soon, David.”
“Goddamn it! You never miss an opportunity to screw up my life!”
Johnson glared at him. “You know your duty, soldier.” He said nothing more. Gotlieb just glared back.
Despite Gotlieb’s efforts to forget the endless conflicts with his old commander, they managed to bubble to the surface whenever the two men were forced to work together.
Finally, though, Gotlieb won at least one part of the argument when Johnson agreed that only the President had the final authority to make a decision on this matter.
Johnson added, “This character needs to be watched—he may be up to no good.”
“Sir, you’ve subjected him to every known mental probe in the universe, and he’s come up smelling like a rose.”
“I don’t care—maybe those goddamn Rockoids sent him here as a mole.”
Gotlieb groaned. “Not that again.”
“All right, all right. Remember, we still can’t be entirely sure whether he’s a spy or not. We have to watch him every moment of the day. Now we have a lot of work ahead of us.”
The scientist strolled briskly out of the room.
Gotlieb knew what he had to do next. He voiced a few soft commands on his wristview that opened up certain security channels. Within seconds, the dark-skinned visage of President Ethan Rogers appeared in full view on the tiny screen.
The president had already been briefed on the strange tale of the man who claimed he came from the twenty-first century. It didn’t take much for Gotlieb to convince him to set Ray up in a high-security presidential suite at the White Palace, the same building where important diplomatic visitors were housed during their visits to Brussels.
President Rogers couldn’t conceal his skepticism about the whole screwy episode. “Listen, David, we don’t know the full story here. So I am going to put a twenty-four hour security detail on him and monitor his every move. He won’t even so much as blow his nose without our people knowing what came out and where he put it!”
Gotlieb laughed at his old friend’s perverse sense of humor.
“No problem, Mr. President. I’ll make all the arrangements.”
“Very good, David. For the time being I have to call you back to active duty….”
“Come on, Mr. President, I already put in my twenty years….”
“Don’t you worry, David. It’s only for the duration. You’re not the only one. I may have to call many more of the reserves back to duty as well.”
“I don’t want to sound insubordinate, Mr. President, but that doesn’t reassure me.”
Rogers laughed heartily. “Don’t you, worry, Captain Gotlieb, I’ll have you back at your comfy little police station soon enough. I need someone I can trust at the head of the security detail. Once Perkins is comfortable, bring him to me. I want to talk with him.”
With noticeable reluctance, Gotlieb nodded and switched off his wristview. He sat sadly for a moment and wondered what he’d tell his wife. Would she understand? He did tell her he had to remain in the reserve for ten years as a condition for early retirement; that he could be recalled to active duty at any time. Susan would probably understand—like hell she would! He wasn’t too happy at the prospect of dealing with her anger.
* * *
While Ray remained unconscious, Johnson and Gotlieb transported him by hover ambulance to a ninety-two-story tower situated in the northeast quadrant of Brussels. It was here the president and his family lived for three months of every year. During that time, the building not only housed the presidential quarters, but his offices and those of his personal aides as well. Ten large dining centers were used for receptions to honor alien ambassadors and other diplomatic visitors. Hundreds of secured hotel rooms were set aside to provide safety and comfort for the many visitors to the city. There were dozens of restaurants with both Earthly and alien cuisine and shopping centers, both of which were visited often by tourists. Every nook and cranny of the large structure was monitored with state-of-the art security systems. In addition, a force of hundreds of officers patrolled the building day and night. Thousands of additional troops were housed in nearby dormitories, in the event military action was required.
If Ray had been awake when he arrived there, he probably would have been astonished at the differences and similarities between the White Palace and the twenty-first century architecture with which he was familiar. Unlike the few buildings he’d seen so far, this one had a classic design, in some ways similar to a skyscraper from his time, except for its smooth, circular shape, which tapered gradually towards the summit. The variety and scope of the other structures in the city were even more amazing. Yet Ray slept on, oblivious to the magnificent sights and sounds around him.
Ray arrived at his quarters in the hotel shortly after midnight. Although the effects of the stun gun had long since worn off, he was exhausted and he slept on.
During the trip, Gotlieb called his wife, and tried to mollify her without much success. Susan yelled at him for betraying her, she began to weep, but finally began to accept his situation. “How long is this going to take? What’s this all about?”
“Sorry, honey, it’s all classified. You know the score. The president says it’ll only be for a short time, a few weeks at most, I’m sure,” he lied. “We’ll still be able to take those two weeks on Drevin. Now you take care, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Talk to you later, honey.”
She couldn’t resist getting in the last word. “David, I thought Ethan was your friend. Why is he doing this to us?”
Gotlieb shrugged. There was no way to win that argument. He just repeated his promise to return as soon as possible
They said their good-byes, but Gotlieb wasn’t so self-assured. He had been personally recalled to active duty by the Alliance President, and he knew his old friend would only do that to him in times of emergency. And it might take a lot longer to resolve than anyone expected.
Chapter 8
The next afternoon, Ray regained consciousness. He took a moment to admire the large hotel room in which he lay before he noticed the pretty red-haired woman standing before him. She wore casual clothing. Ray stared at the woman with feelings of astonishment, for she looked hauntingly familiar.
“Where am I?” Ray asked groggily.
“You’re in one of the best suites in the White Palace! I’m sure once you’re awake you’ll get a kick out of it,” the woman replied.
“White Palace? What’s that?” Ray asked, this time less groggily.
“That’s where the Alliance President lives, and you’re in it,” explained the woman.
“Who are you? You’re not…” The thought left him as quickly as it came. Barely awake, Ray felt he was about to lose consciousness again. He later learned even a single stun gun blast sometimes had such lingering effects.
“My name is Major…” she started to say, but Ray fell asleep again before she finished.
“See you later, Captain Perkins,” whispered the woman. She stood there, smiled
and admired the sleeping man for a moment longer.
She walked over to the door, which slid open as soon as she approached it, and almost sauntered out of the room. Once she was a few meters away, the door slid shut behind her. She nodded to a couple of sentries who stood outside Ray’s room.
She strolled off to a waiting elevator at the end of the hallway, hardly trying to conceal the mischievous grin on her face.
* * *
After falling asleep again, Ray did not experience any dreams about the horrible battle in space between the Rockoids and the Alliance at first. He actually smiled in his sleep. Perhaps because the dreams hadn’t returned or maybe it was because of the lovely woman who stood before him as he had briefly awakened.
As quickly as they left, though the dreams returned, and Ray noticed one added wrinkle. They were more vivid than ever, so intense he was even more convinced he was actually witnessing a real event.
The dream began, as usual, in space, above the alien world. Everything proceeded as before. As the Alliance warships began bombarding the planet relentlessly, the Rockoid woman’s face appeared, first in the background, then seemingly suspended above the conflict, as if she was an observer of the proceedings.
Once again, she appeared content before her expression turned to one of deep anguish, which Ray felt yet again. If she were only real…if he could only reach out…comfort her…
Zanther, what do you want from me? He was about to shout her name aloud, in the vain hope she’d hear him, but stopped as the words were about to leave his lips.
It took several minutes before his rapid breathing and heartbeat slowed to normal. His hoarse voice convinced him that he had been shouting out loud in his sleep.
Despite its intensity, he didn’t ponder the meaning of the dream for long before he realized he was very hungry. The last thing he had eaten was a sandwich and coffee, and that was a couple of lifetimes ago, at least according to the calendar. Of course to him, the actual passage of time consisted of just a few days.
Now that he was awake he was able to see all the appliances, machines, and furnishings in the room. The bedroom looked almost like the ones he’d seen in a very fancy hotel room of the twenty-first century except for one change; there was no TV, nor any device he could recognize as being one.
He didn’t know how one checked out the latest news. Did anybody still read a newspaper? He really believed he would be able to find a TV screen of some sort. Perhaps if he looked harder…all he could find was the large windowpane providing an extraordinary view of the huge city in which he was staying.
He wanted food more than he wanted the latest news, so he looked for a room service menu. A large circular table with three silver-clad metallic chairs around it lay in the middle of the room.
Ravenously hungry, he practically tore apart the suite, trying to find a menu. He reached into drawers and was surprised to find they slid open at the touch. There was not a hint of a menu anywhere, nor did he find the usual colorful brochures and stationery he expected to see in a luxury hotel.
Finally, he gave up, and put everything back where it was supposed to be.
An idea came to Ray’s mind. He walked to the front door of his room and gave it a quick examination. In addition to the entrance, two doorways were located to his left, equidistant along the walls. The first, a sliding door like the entranceway, led to the bathroom, which had a sink of fairly conventional appearance, but no bathtub. The only thing he found that might be a shower was a large chamber with a curtain.
Ray felt dirty, grimy. He hadn’t washed in two days and figured this was the best opportunity as any to do so.
He could probably wait just a little longer to satisfy his hunger.
He took off his dirty clothes, threw them carelessly to the side, and stepped into the shower. Inside he found the enclosure not terribly different from the ones he used back in the twenty-first century. There was one major difference; it responded to voice commands, a characteristic he discovered purely by chance when he started asking questions aloud. Once clean and newly alert, he searched around and found a closet containing a whole wardrobe that fit him perfectly. Clearly this room had been carefully prepared for his benefit.
Now we’re getting somewhere.
Ray chose a matching set of blue shirt and pants, and the same shiny black gloves and boots he had seen everyone wearing at the Area 51 Shopping Mall.
Once dressed, Ray set to work finding something to eat. He checked out the second door, which led to a small kitchen-like area.
Inside the room, he found a large wall-mounted screen that resembled a TV monitor. A rectangular device covered with a glass-like door lay below it, something that vaguely resembled a large microwave oven, but without timer or other accessible controls.
He looked around, but he could not find a refrigerator, pantry, or any other conventional repository of food. He commenced to panic; he was so hungry.
Ray got a crazy idea, something from a TV show. It had always worked there, whether the starship’s occupants wanted a cup of tea or a full-course meal.
He finally decided what he wanted most was an old-fashioned Southern meal. He felt awkward, stating his request aloud, to nobody in particular, casually giving a long list of his culinary preferences. Not a single detail was omitted; Ray wanted to put this strange device to the ultimate test.
He waited…but not for long.
After about a minute, a light appeared in the transparent chamber. Seconds later, the chamber opened, and a large serving tray slid out. His meal was placed neatly on the tray, precisely as ordered.
A large plate was stuffed with piping hot fried chicken, black-eyed peas, and okra. Ray admired it with great astonishment, noticing the faint glimmer of steam rising from what appeared to be a sumptuous meal. Several pieces of corn bread were neatly placed on a small plate and beside it, a tiny cup with a butter-like substance in it. Next to the tray, Ray saw a full set of silverware and cloth napkins.
He grabbed the tray, left the kitchen and sat down at the table. As he tried the food, amazed that it tasted so right, so perfect, almost as good as any home-cooked meal he’d ever tasted. Then again, he was so hungry, he figured almost anything would delight his senses.
Ray downed the meal eagerly, leaving nary a crumb in the plate. Yet something was missing.
He returned to the kitchen, coming out seconds later with a large plate of peach pie.
As he downed the first bite of his dessert and savored its luscious flavor, the entrance slid open. Dr. Johnson and Captain Gotlieb walked in, nonchalantly, as if they had been invited. “Would you mind? I’m trying to finish my meal!” Ray shouted angrily.
“Sorry, but we have a very important matter to attend to,” apologized Johnson.
“What kind of experiment are you planning for me this time?” Ray asked, his voice laced with sarcasm, as he lifted his fork into his mouth for a second bite.
“No, no more experiments,” Gotlieb replied seriously. “President Rogers wants you at Alliance Headquarters immediately.”
Gotleib’s face looked stern; his eyes seemed to stare right through Ray. The latter thought the anger was directed toward him. He didn’t learn until later that Gotlieb had just engaged in another loud argument with Johnson and was still trying to recover his composure.
Thinking the stare was related to something he’d done wrong, Ray gasped, nearly choking on his food.
Ray took a deep breath and sat down with a confused, quizzical look on his face.
Chapter 9
Ray remained wary of leaders, whether of companies or governments. He recalled all the difficult negotiations he’d made with his software publisher, how the greedy so-and-sos fought him tooth and nail over every penny when they worked out a royalty agreement. He recalled how the military establishment abandoned him when he was hospitalized. It seemed like he didn’t exist.
A government leader? He’d only seen those from the back of a meeting room or on TV. He h
ad never met anyone more powerful than a member of his state legislature and was taken aback, clearly stunned.
“What? Why me?” Ray exclaimed, still in near shock.
“We showed him the video of your interrogation and then a report of the ‘Brain TV’ probe we performed on you…he was very interested…to say the least,” explained Johnson.
Ray looked around his room, hoping this was all just a bad dream. Gotlieb and Johnson were insistent.
“Listen, I’ve never met the president of anything….” Ray exclaimed, sounding agitated.
“Here’s your chance to meet one. Don’t worry about your dessert. You can take it with you,” said Gotlieb.
Gotleib’s smile seemed to return, as he began to forget the tension of his ongoing dispute with Johnson.
Ray put down his fork, grabbed a napkin, and hurriedly, clumsily, wrapped up what was left of his pie, trying to grab a quick bite before he sealed it. He got up, package in hand, and said, “Let’s be off.”
* * *
Ray, Gotlieb, Johnson, and a contingent of security guards, were transported to the local Alliance headquarters by hover-limousine, a bizarre looking vehicle that, like its twenty-first century counterpart, had a stretched cab containing two extra rows of seats. The trip wasn’t exactly pleasant. Ray still wasn’t quite accustomed to the rapid bursts of acceleration one had to deal with when riding in these contraptions; his stomach was tied up in little knots. After a few minutes, the feeling of impending nausea passed and his stomach settled. He clung to the napkin containing his dessert, but didn’t feel inclined to tempt the fates to consume it during this unsettling ride. Ray didn’t want to dirty the upholstery; he imagined how Gotlieb might react if he vomited on him. The thought was enough to bring a faint smile to his lips.
Once Ray recovered, his gaze stayed glued to the windows, watching the various sights in the city of Brussels, which were simply amazing.
Attack of the Rockoids Page 10