* * *
“Lulu, I believe you,” Rosenthal said as he walked in the executive’s lounge. “The Secretary of Defense, the National Security Advisor, and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff are coming. The President’s coming later is an excellent possibility.”
With joy, Lulu rushed to Rosenthal and was about to hug him but stopped and shyly backed off. “Naska is Imar, I mean thank you so very much,” she said.
Rosenthal noticed her intention and asked, “You will be part of my family, right?”
She turned and looked at JP then said, “If he still wants me.”
JP had the widest smile on his face and stretched out his arms as he walked towards her.
Lulu coyly walked to meet JP and they hugged with joy.
The proud Rosenthal watched happily. When they parted, Rosenthal, with open arms, said to Lulu, “Don’t I deserve a hug?”
Lulu kissed Rosenthal on the cheek then hugged him tightly. “Naska is Imar, Naska is Imar,” she said instinctively.
JP asked, “May I know what you asked, Dad?” He was somehow certain it would be some sort of weapon.
‘Telling him now might spoil the evening ahead,’ Rosenthal thought. “You will know tomorrow. Trust me for now.”
It was a relief to both Rosenthal and JP to have Lulu with them as she led the conversation and the three had a wonderful and pleasant evening together.
Meeting with the USSR Premier
Across the globe, early in the morning, Russian Premier Vladimir Krusov was in his black silk night robe with matching silk slippers. Tightly worn, the robe outlined his firm broad chest and toned belly. His hair was cut short; his Arian face had telltale signs of just waking. He ushered General Kievsky from the receiving to his private room. It was the only in this room where he would discuss sensitive matters. Built specially for him to secure his conversations from any form of eavesdrop.
Premier Krusov had a strong grip over the Soviet political and military establishments. He rose to power through clandestine arrangements and intrigues he orchestrated. As Premier, he was obsessed by the thought of being ousted by the same means and consequently became paranoid of the information that came through regular channels. Through a network of confidential informants and personal spies, he found ways of knowing things indirectly. It gave him a way to know how accurate the reports were or, worse still, if they reported at all. Both political and military camps knew the premier's extensive network of personal spies existed. He was not secretive and discreetly talked of its presence with key Russian government and military officials just to intimidate them. This gave him an intangible power and control, and used it to his best advantage. General Kievsky was part of this network of spies.
“Have a seat, Comrade Igor,” the Premier said as they entered the room. Secret meetings were common and waking up early in the morning did not bother him. “The information must be pretty urgent, Comrade,” the Premier candidly said.
“It is, Premier,” General Kievsky replied formally. The meeting was special to him. Breaking his cover was a move that could put him within the Premier's coveted inner circle or out of it, for good.
“Do we have time for coffee or vodka?” the Premier jokingly asked to relax the tense general as well as himself. The Premier had just gotten an advice from his doctor to stay calm. His blood pressure was high lately, and he took the doctor's advice seriously.
“Coffee will be fine,” General Kievsky replied, easing a little.
The Premier made a short call and ordered decaffeinated coffee for two then said, “This has something to do with General Malkinovitch,” the Premier made a guess as he walked to the armchair next to the general and sat, taking full use of the chair armrest.
“No. Have you heard of the Alpha Wave Project?” General Kievsky wasted no time.
“Yes, but do fill me in,” the Premier said calmly though he knew he had not. It merely heightened his paranoia over the Military keeping secrets from him. The project was of low priority, something he normally would not be informed of.
“Alpha Wave is a top secret military research project on finding wireless communications outside conventional radio waves. It is important to note that military early warning, radar detection, electronic guidance, and communication systems are solely dependent on radio wave,” he emphasized. “If we jammed all radio wave frequencies, which we have the technology, and maintain the integrity of our communication via our Alpha Wave, the US and its Allies will neither have the ability to be warned nor launch any defensive or retaliatory actions against any aerial, sea, and land based attack. In this scenario, our warplanes could enter any country's airspace undetected and have full control of their sky. A radio wave blackout for six hours will put Soviet warplanes directly over all Allied military targets without their knowing. The war would be over before it could even begin.”
The Premier, who was a high-ranking military officer in the KGB before becoming a Premier, explicitly understood its military implications. He also knew the importance of having that kind of technology first regardless of cost. The thought of having the arrogant US and its puppet NATO allies bow to Soviet’s might was his obsession. However, his ire focused on the US. He had a personal score to settle. Deeply etched in his mind was the chagrin of removing the missiles from Cuba, decades before. It was his idea, as a young military adviser then, to have the missiles there, and suffered the consequences for getting them out.
The prospect of having a Third World War from the Cuban crisis was something the Premier was willing to risk and strongly advised the Premier then, Premier Khrushchev, not to heed President Kennedy's threats. Though that was almost four decades ago, his country's tarnished military image had never recovered and was determined to wipe it clean, including his own.
With NATO supporting US foreign policies, US President Smith ignored Premier Krusov. The Premier had little international backing to dictate anything consequential over international matters. In the US diplomatic circle, they dubbed Premier Krusov as “Lame Duck.” A name President Smith inadvertently used that somehow got to the Premier’s ears. In return, the Premier referred to the US President as “The Pig” and made sure it unofficially got to the US President's ears. This unofficial name calling merely heightened the tension between the two superpower leaders making the volatile climate between countries worse. However, they appeared congenial and diplomatic to each other in public but the personal animosity between them remained.
Taking a backseat in the international arena to the USA, the Premier concentrated on technological breakthroughs to turn the balance of military power to the Soviet Union's side. General Igor Kievsky was among the men he relied on to get this done. “Do we have the Alpha Wave technology?” the Premier asked excitedly.
“We have, in its early stage. However, we may not have monopoly on it if we do not act soon,” the general stressed.
“The Pig has it then?” the Premier blared, irritated by the thought.
The Premier's semantics amused the general. He took it to mean the Americans though the Premier had President Smith in mind. It got him to smile then said, “Not as we speak. That is why I need your immediate authorization to secure a shoal at the Bering Strait.”
“Bering Strait? Shoal?”
“Bering Strait is a sea lane between Alaska and Siberia. The shoal is a shallow area within the strait and dotted with small, uninhabitable basalt islands of no significant economic or military value. The area itself is a natural barrier to marine activities.”
The Premier was puzzled. “Why secure it then?”
“It would be better if I explained everything . . . What I will tell will sound strange but I can prove its veracity. Briefly, there are Aliens on Earth negotiating with the Americans for help. In exchange, they provided them laser technology for warfare to start.”
“Aliens!” the Premier scoffed. He had no stand on UFO's (Unidentified Flying Object) but was more inclined not to believe in its existence.
“We have reasons to believe the signals coming from Giza and outer space are mere directional beacons but the one at the Bering Strait acts not only as a beacon but the Alien's communication center.”
“Are you certain of this?” the Premier said as he sat back slowly with his left hand under his chin. He scrutinized the general for hints of instability. He was unsure how he should take the general's information.
“I have proof,” the general answered confidently. “It is for this reason that I came to see you. Less than an hour ago, we intercepted the fifth. It came from the outskirts of Los Angeles, California. To be exact, it came from within the Rosenthal Research Center at Malibu in the state of California. From that transmission, a computer that responds to the name Goopersh at the Bering Strait downloaded the design of a laser gun. The downloaded transmission was of binary form, a computer language. We can decode it, thus, we have the technology as well. I have a tape-recorded conversation between the Alien's talking computer and someone within the research facility.” He got a hand size tape recorder from his coat pocket and played it.
'Goopersh . . . Awaiting instructions . . . Design a portable laser gun with these specifications: Maximum weight . . .” the taped conversation continued until the dialogue ended. General Kievsky pressed the tape recorder's pause button, “We have to amplify this part as it was said some distance from the microphone,” then pressed the play button.
“What is that? . . . It’s an Alien communicating device . . . What do they want? . . . They want to talk to the President and negotiate for help in exchange for their technology . . . Why don't they just fly over to the White House? . . . Their ship is without fuel and they want me to arrange a meeting with the President . . . Then we'll bring the President to them! . . . It's not that simple. The aliens are scared of us as humans---they don't trust us. Without fuel, they are defenseless. You can literally walk in their ship and take them and their technology. There are only two of them in the ship. For that reason, their location is a secret . . . What if the Aliens don't get the help? . . . The ship will self-destruct. Thousands more stranded and in orbit in our galaxy and dependent on them will die as well . . . You believe all this? . . . Have you seen anything like what you just witnessed? . . . How did we link our computer to theirs? . . . Through the pyramid crystal and the access word is Goopersh and that is all there is to it . . . Why not download everything while we're linked . . . I gave my word . . . Transmission complete. Terminating communication . . . Let's see what’s being printed.”
General Kievsky pressed the stop button again. “We are certain the man doing most of the talking is George Rosenthal, the US armament tycoon. We have good reasons to believe the other man is David Simpson, Head of the Rosenthal's Research Center.”
“Why not download the alien’s technology to our computer?” the Premier asked.
“Unfortunately, we can only receive signals. Transmitting capability still needs working. With proper funding and support, we will have that capability, in a month. Two at most,” the general added.
“You will get everything you need. I want his project given highest priority. We must have the alien technology at all cost before the Pig does.”
“That is why I came to see you. The basalt island happens to be a mile within the U.S. territory.”
“The Pig must not have the alien technology,” the Premier raised his voice. “It's either we have the technology or no one will. What do you suggest?”
“Blow up Rosenthal Research Center and set it up so the whole world will blame it to terrorist. We have the design on the laser gun and the Alpha Wave technology within two months. Can you see what this will mean militarily?”
The Premier glanced at the general and gave his last sentence a thought. “Blow them up and make sure anyone who knows about this is terminated, understand?”
“Understand. No one but us.”
“Good. How soon can we do this?”
“Operation Czarina was designed especially for this situation. It needs but a target in the Metropolitan Los Angeles. With your authorization, well within ten hours. As for the Aliens on the island, we can get our commandos to sneak in under the cover of our Pacific Fleet performing a naval exercise near the vicinity but in international waters. The fleet is within eight hours cruising time to the Strait.
“Our commandos will abduct the Aliens and download their computer files to ours. If anything goes wrong at any time, even without the Aliens, we will blow up the island and claim it as an accident during a naval targeting exercise. The US military will swallow the excuse. As far as they know, the island has no economic or military strategic value.”
“And . . . for the people involved in Operation Czarina?”
“The helicopter used will self-destruct on landing. Apart from us, the people involved in the mission will all be in the helicopter.”
“I see you have planned everything. I will call for an emergency meeting. Meanwhile, get Czarina going. I will place our armed forces on General Alert as insurance.” The Premier took the phone on the side table and made a call.
CALL THE PRESIDENT
5:10 a.m. - Rosenthal Research Center
The test room within the Research Building had, among others, a firing range. Rosenthal, with David, stood beside a heavy metal table, curiously eying the prototype laser gun on it. It was not much to look at with its electronic components on circuit boards exposed alongside a wire-wound barrel held by a vise and aimed at a target fifty meters away.
“I want no slip-ups.” Rosenthal said sternly to Bill after he examined what they did.
“Built to specs and triple checked,” Bill said knowing Rosenthal had a short fuse on seeing things fail needlessly.
“Okay. What is the target?”
“It's a meter square, fifteen-inch thick armor plate,” Bill answered pointing to a hardly visible target at the far end of the firing range.
David, who studied the laser’s operating manual during the night, worked the laser dials on a makeshift stand. “Setting at its lowest capacity,” he said.
“Plug it.”
“It runs on a 12-volt car battery,” Bill replied.
Rosenthal, astonished, noted Bill's response. “Okay, connect the terminals and fire.”
Bill was skeptical. He thought the entire thing was a bunch of short-circuited wires bound to explode in his face. He cautiously extended his arm as far as he could and pressed the fire button. After pressing, he thought it failed as he expected a load noise from the gun, a noise similar to Star War battle scenes. He was flabbergasted when he saw the smoldering target at the distance.
The three hurriedly walked to the target and was awed. The armor plate had a nine-inch-wide hole. The metal simply evaporated!
Bill inspected the wall four feet beyond the target and commented, “The wall is slightly warm but unscathed.”
Rosenthal turned to David. “If miniaturized, what would be its size?”
“No bigger or heavier than a fifty-caliber machine gun,” David answered. “Lesser capacity will weigh less than a forty-five-caliber handgun powered by a triple ‘A’ battery. This is worth zillions in rearmament revenue and we are in a position to negotiate the price.”
Rosenthal did not react. He paced the floor with his arms across his chest. Being near the phone when it rang, he answered, “Rosenthal,” he snapped.
“Good morning, Sir. This is Chief of Security, Larry Ilagan. Your guest will arrive at 6:40, about an hour and a half from now,” Ilagan answered over the phone.
“Secure the route from the heliport to the test room and from the test to the conference room. I don’t want my guest seen by anyone.”
“Sir, there are employees . . .”
“Larry,” Rosenthal interrupted in a stern voice. “No one sees my guests.”
“Yes, Sir. No is to see your guest,” Larry replied. He had done this before but not at this short notice.
“Maintain the status until you hear from me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Then I want you to . . .” he continued to give instructions.
The Demonstration
Secretary Newman, General Perkins, and Advisor Short were met by Rosenthal and David at the building’s heliport and brought them directly to the test room. Rosenthal, assisted by David, did the demonstration but this time, the laser was set at three percent of its power. On firing, the target including the metal table’s top, instantly disintegrated with an audible popping sound.
Rosenthal advertised, “Set at wide beam, it will evaporate an aircraft carrier in an instant using a fourth of its power setting. We can surgically blast a lone tank parked among other vehicles on the moon,”
“How long will it take to rearm the entire arm forces?” General Perkins eagerly asked Rosenthal.
Rosenthal answered, “In matter of months but there is more to it than that. We will talk on it at David’s office. You have to excuse me as I have some matters to attend and will meet you there.”
Getting the US President
“Everything worked out?” JP asked excitedly as Rosenthal entered the executive lounge.
“Better than I expected. It was a laser gun design that I requested. I know that’s the last thing you want to hear but trust me one more time,” he said to JP then turned to Lulu, “Lulu, I will go out of my way to do something for you. I don't want to be placed in a compromising position. Are there little matters that I should know?” he asked as he looked at Lulu’s eyes.
“I told you everything,” Lulu replied.
Rosenthal believed her. “Lulu, I agree with your father. Your identity must remain a secret. For that reason, if you don't mind, it will be a privilege and an honor to negotiate in your father’s behalf. Your role here is merely an Earthling helping the aliens.”
“I do need help, Naska is Imar. I don’t know how to thank you,” she hugged him this time with tears of relief coming from her eyes.
“Marrying my son is good enough,” Rosenthal said as he waved JP to come and they all hugged together. “We will be one family from now on. Let’s go.”
At the Incinerator Room
From David’s office, Rosenthal led everyone to the incinerator room.
A dozen mainframe disk canisters, the laser gun, blueprint, manual, and a trash bag full of items collected from the test and assembly rooms were on top of a table near the incinerator. Larry Ilagan and four of his uniformed security men stood on one side of the room.
“Larry,” Rosenthal said, “do we have everything here?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Throw them in the incinerator,” he instructed then walked to the incinerator’s console.
Rosenthal’s guest, to include David, were baffled and looked at each other. Rosenthal was incinerating everything but they remained silent, dumfounded.
Rosenthal watched Larry’s men load the incinerator and lock its door. Without fanfare, he pressed the incinerator’s start button. Instantly, flames within the incinerator engulfed everything in a whirlpool of fire.
Rosenthal looked at JP, who had his best smile ready and Lulu overwhelmed with joy. The rest were flabbergasted.
Rosenthal said, “Gentlemen, let us go to the conference room and I will explain everything.”
Call to the US President
At the conference room, Rosenthal addressed his guest, “The technology behind the demonstration is not ours but to Aliens stranded on our planet. They desperately need our help.”
“Aliens? You must be joking,” Secretary Newman reacted candid and skeptical.
“I am not a joking man,” Rosenthal said seriously. “Take my word, there are aliens on our planet,” Rosenthal said formally.
Secretary Newman turned serious and said diplomatically, “We would like to meet them,”
“Before I answer Mr. Secretary, let me explain their situation. The aliens are . . .” Rosenthal explained briefly the alien’s predicament and at the end said, “In exchange for the loan of NARLAB’s atomic super-collider, they will hand over all their nonmilitary sciences and technologies to be shared by all nations. Military technology is another matter. The laser gun was merely a demonstration of their technology to impress you. The pyramid crystal on the table is the alien's communication device. We can communicate with the alien leader, named Amo Obib, provided we have the President with us. You have two hours to decide.”
“And, after two hours?” the Chief of Staff General Perkins asked.
“The aliens will offer the same deal to the Russians but doubt the Russian will do what I did on the laser gun,” Rosenthal said deliberately. “The President’s plane is currently airborne and heading for Sacramento. We have time to divert its route to land at Edwards Military Airbase at Mojave Desert, California on pretense of having minor mechanical problem. By helicopter the airbase is but 15 minutes away from here. In secrecy’s interest, we merely delay Air Force One’s arrival at Sacrament by an hour or two. Should we call the President?”
Defense Secretary Newman glanced at Rosenthal then conferred with General Perkins and Advisor Short in private. A minute later, Secretary Newman called the President and together with General Perkins, and Advisor Short discussed the critical situation and the urgency for the president to confer with Amo Obib. President Smith conceded to his three top advisers and, a minute later, the president’s plane changed course and headed for Edward Military Airbase.
Moscow
At the same time, General Kievsky was on the phone talking to the Premier, “. . . By stroke of luck, one of our informants works at Rosenthal Research Center. It’s far better than we thought . . . Commandos are now heading for the island . . . Yes. Czarina is in operation . . . Yes, Sir, to include the informant,” then hung up the phone.
WHAT HAVE I DONE?
At the Administrative Building’s heliport, Rosenthal and his three guests welcomed President Smith. From there, they proceeded to the conference room where JP and Lulu waited. Rosenthal introduced them then ushered his guests to their seat.
President Smith, General Perkins, Advisor Short, and Secretary Newman were on one side of a rectangular conference table with Rosenthal, JP, and Lulu at the other side with their backs at a thick curtained window. Rosenthal laid the pyramid crystal on the table between him and the President then narrated the Rian’s predicament.
Close to the briefing's end, General Perkins’ aide came in the conference room and whispered something to General Perkins and after, the general excused himself and left the room hurriedly with the Aide. Shortly after, he came back leaving three of the President’s security men posted outside the room by its door to wait further instructions.
Rosenthal purposely paused as General Perkins went back to his chair. He noted the general was uneasy.
After the briefing, President Smith said, “I do not see any problem in helping the Aliens. They can have immediate use of NARLAB’s facilities and any assistance they may need from us. I am ready to confer.”
“Mr. President,” General Perkins interrupted as he stood and walked to the President’s side and whispered to his ears.
The President stood and asked Secretary Newman and Advisor Short to walk with them to the corner of the spacious room where they conferred in low voices.
General Perkins said tensely. “The Russians are on global red alert. Their Pacifi
c Fleet is at the Bering Strait near our territorial waters. Our planes reported spotting Russian commandoes on an uninhabited basalt island within our territory. Russian military communication has skyrocketed during the last hour and satellite pictures revealed Russian IBMs out of their bunkers. There is something ominous going on and I don't like it. I have advised heads of the Arm Forces to stay on alert status and wait for further instructions. Mr. President, I strongly advise we go on ‘Red Alert’.”
“I do not have a clear picture,” the confused President asked, “Where is Bering Strait . . . this island?”
“Do you have a world map around?” General Perkins referred the question to Rosenthal.
“We do,” Rosenthal replied and pressed a nearby button.
A world map slowly slid down from the ceiling adjacent to the wall where the President and the general stood. It filled the whole wall and was too large to point something near its top. General Perkins, on seeing a laser pointer, got it. He checked the coordinates from his notes and aimed the pointing device to a spot at the Bering Strait.
When the pointer’s light remained pointed on a spot over the Bering Strait where the ship was hidden, Lulu, already tensed, reacted in distress, “What have I done!” she gasped and with her hands over her face and sobbed.
On hearing Lulu sob, General Perkins, who grasped the situation as gravely critical, asked in an urgent manner, “What is the significance of that spot, Miss Spence?”
Lulu did not answer, instead continued to whimper.
Rosenthal noticed Lulu was distraught. “It may be good if you explain the situation.”
General Perkins looked at Rosenthal then said, “The Russians have violated US territorial rights by landing men on a barren basalt island at the Bering Strait within US territory. The Russian Pacific Fleet is in the vicinity but in International Waters. The Russian Armed Forces and their allies are in full military alert. Why are you so concerned, Miss Spence?”
“That is where the Alien ship is,” she answered then turned to JP. “JP, I must go back.” She leaned on the table to get the crystal.
General Perkins instinctively moved and got the crystal before Lulu could. “In the interest of national security, the three of you will be guests of the US Government,” he said then called in the Secret Servicemen in and instructed them to take Rosenthal, JP, and Lulu to the hallway and gave the pyramid crystal to one of the Secret Serviceman for safekeeping.
After they left the room, General Perkins turned to the President, “Mr. President, knowing what is at stake, we cannot allow the Russians to have the Aliens.”
“Get me Premier Krusov on the line,” the President said to his Aide and to General Perkins, “We go on ‘Full Alert.’”
Prepare For War
Premier Krusov was attending to visitors when his secretary came and whispered to the Premier's ear, “The President of the United States is on the phone. He said it’s urgent.”
“I'm indisposed. Tell him to call much later,” then continued to chat with his guests.
The secretary smiled and left but a minute after came back. “He said it is vitally important. He told me to mention Bering Strait.”
The words caught the Premier's attention and excused himself. He signaled his aide to follow and they walked to his private room.
The Premier took time to make himself comfortable in his heavily padded swivel chair before he picked up the phone. “Mr. President, good evening or is it morning . . . I know nothing of what you are saying . . . We have a harmless naval exercise in international waters in that vicinity and that is all I know . . . Landing assault in US territory? There is nothing there to land on . . . I do not like your tone of voice . . . Let me talk to my generals to clarify matters . . . If you fire at them, you will have to accept the consequences . . . Are you threatening the Soviet Republic? . . . Let me get more information on the matter then I will call you,” he hung up not knowing President Smith was calling from the Rosenthal Research Center.
“Get me General Kievsky on the line,” he said to his aide.
The Premier briefly waited then picked the ringing phone, “Igor, the Pig knows about the island. Blow it up . . . Okay. Try to get the Aliens then blow up the island. What about the Czarina Operation . . . Good.” He hung up then to his aide, said, “Call and get everybody to the War Room immediately.”
Battle for Rosenthal Research Center
A mile from Rosenthal Research Center, two US Apache helicopters guarded the airspace in the area to secure the President. One patrolled the southeastern sector to Rosenthal Research Center while the other the northeastern. “A blimp appeared on my screen,” reported the Radar Man guarding the northeast sector. “There it is again. Bogey heading for my area. Eleven miles northeast of us.”
“It’s not on my screen,” replied the pilot at the southeastern sector. “Must be hugging the ground to avoid detection. Assume it’s hostile as the area was deemed a no-fly zone.”
“Roger . . . Arming,” said the ordinance man while the pilot maneuvered their chopper to intercept.
“Backing you up and heading for your sector . . . bogey on my screen. It’s nine miles east of you.”
“Not on my screen. Where is it heading?”
“Must be flying through the canyons. Can’t tell.”
“Damn this terrain! We are sitting ducks here. See anything?” the northeast pilot asked.
“No.”
“Got no option. I’m blind where I’m at. Going low and blocking the canyon east of me.”
Seconds passed then, “Bandit two-mile northeast of you,” said the southeast pilot over his radio.
“Shit! It’s on my screen and behind us!” then the cockpit alarm sounded. “Bandit launched a missile!” The pilot flew his helicopter steeply upward in the narrow canyon as it dropped flares. The missile hit the helicopter’s rotating rear blades and exploded then crashed on the side of the canyon; fell on the ground; and exploded again.
“Intercepting bandit,” radioed the remaining Apache pilot as he raced his chopper to go between Rosenthal Research Center and the last reported location of the hostile helicopter. His ordinance man focused on his radar screen tensely waiting for a blimp to appear.
Suddenly, a blimp flashed on the radar screen then the ordinance man said, “Got visual and locking on bandit.” A split-second after, their alarm sounded. “Bandit launched two missiles! One is heading for the Administrative Building and the other for the Research. Firing my missiles.”
“Protect the Administrative Building. I repeat, protect the Administrative Building,” came the frantic order from Military Airborne Command Center.
“Roger,” the pilot responded and steered his helicopter to go between the incoming hostile missile and the Administrative Building. He urgently searched for a low flying missile as he steered the chopper to within ten meters away from the building. On seeing the missile’s smoke trail, he screamed, “Low - 2 o’clock.”
“Got visual,” the ordinance man answered as he instinctively aimed the ship's Gatling gun and fired at the missile heading directly at them. Bullets burst from the Gatling gun formed a swarm of lead concentrated on hitting a small and fast approaching target. It was too close when it hit the missile that the massive explosion caused the helicopter to reel backwards hitting the Administrative Building and violently exploded on impact. Simultaneously, the other hostile missile hit the Research Building. The massive explosion caused the Research Building to buckle then topple to the ground and became an instant inferno. Seconds after, the missiles the Apache helicopter fired found its target and the hostile helicopter burst in two successive explosions.
Rosenthal, Lulu, and JP were at the hallway outside the conference room guarded by the president’s secret service men when explosions occurred. The first explosion rocked everyone but the second that followed immediately after, threw them on the floor. The far end of the hallway had a large gaping hole filled with smoke. In spite the immediate confusio
n that followed the blasts, Lulu never left her eyes off the pyramid crystal held by a Secret Serviceman. She rushed and grabbed it.
JP saw Lulu struggle for the crystal's possession and joined. The robust Secret Serviceman easily threw them on the floor. Rosenthal, on seeing, grabbed the man from behind. In the scuffle, the pyramid crystal fell on the floor.
Lulu speedily crawled and got the pyramid crystal.
“Take Lulu and run,” Rosenthal shouted to JP as he struggled to pin the secret serviceman on the floor.
Lulu said hurriedly, “Goopersh, transport me back to the ship,” but before she could finish the sentence, JP had his hand on her arm. In a bright flash, both disappeared from the hallway.
At the Pyramid Ship
JP and Lulu materialized within the transport bay of the pyramid ship in the last position they were at.
JP briskly pulled Lulu up as though they were still in the hallway but was surprised to find himself in a different surrounding. “Where are we?” JP, confused, asked as he looked around.
“We’re in the spaceship. Follow me,” she said and led him out of the room. “You should have stayed behind. The crystal has no energy left to transport you back,” she said worriedly.
“This is where I want to be. Where . . .”
“Lulu,” cried Ningning at the hallway. Amo Obib was close behind her.
Lulu said, “Forgive me for bringing this on you. There are Russian commandoes on the island.”
“We know,” Amo Obib replied. “You must leave the ship. Goopersh, charge the crystal.”
The crystal glowed on Lulu's hand. “The crystal is fully charged,” Goopersh replied.
“Leave before I order the ship’s destruction,” Amo Obib said in urgent.
“You and Mom?” asked Lulu hastily.
“We have to stay.” Amo Obib answered then turned to JP. “Young man, please take care of our daughter,” he said in haste having no time to know more of the man Lulu brought with her.
“I will,” JP, snapped.
“Naska is Imar,” Amo Obib and Ningning said almost simultaneously to both.
At that same instant, a Soviet commando pushed the detonator plunger. A massive explosion rocked the island. The blast gouged a hole on the basalt wall wide enough for a truck to enter. With the spaceship's protective shields off, the explosion caused rock splinters to penetrate the ship's wall. It activated the ship's defensive system instantaneously. The ship hummed and glowed within the cavern.
The sound of the blast resounded in the hallway and instantly a distinctly different computer voice announced, “Trigor overriding Goopersh. Shields set at 100%. Retaliating on targets within 10 miles. You have thirty seconds to abort attack.”
Amo Obib had no time to inquire why Goopersh was overridden or who Trigor was. He instinctively commanded. “Trigor, abort attack.”
“You must be seated at the command chair to abort the attack,” Trigor replied in its distinct metallic tone of voice.
“Lulu, you must leave the ship! Take the young man with you,” Amo Obib shouted in a haste as he dashed for the Command Center. Ningning ran behind him.
“Naska is Imar,” Lulu shouted as she held JP's arm. She knew Goopersh was deactivated and said, “Trigor, transport us to my room in Los Angeles.”
“No one can leave the ship while the shields are up,” Trigor responded.
Lulu pulled JP and together ran for the Command Center.
Before Amo Obib got to the command chair to abort attack, Trigor announced, “Going on automatic defense mode. Commencing attack.” The pyramid ship fired its laser guns at all targets within the ten-mile radius. Simultaneously three warships and six warplanes within the ten-mile range simultaneously exploded as the pyramid ship burst out of the basalt island and flew straight up at high speed, creating a waterspout that trailed the spaceship upward through the cloud.
THIRD WORLD WAR
A minute before the Russian commandoes blasted a hole on the island’s wall, the flagship of the Soviet Pacific Fleet was fourteen nautical miles from the island, beyond Trigor’s firing range. Commodore Masliv, Commander of the Russian Pacific Fleet, was seated on his chair at the bridge and had a panoramic view of his fleet at sea. He was talking to Premier Krusov over the phone and was jittery---the Strait left little maneuvering room for his fleet should events turn for the worse.
Premier Krusov was at the War Room in Kremlin. Prior to calling Commodore Masliv, he was busy ascertaining Soviet arm forces’ readiness to go into full-scale war at a second's notice. The tense atmosphere in the war room brought back old memories---memories of being among the top military advisers looking over the war table during the Cuban crisis. However, this time, he was in-command and inwardly relished in his power. He felt invigorated and gratified as he issued directives and commands.
“Commandoes are on the island and . . .” Commodore Masliv reported to the Premier over the phone then abruptly stopped. In horror, he saw three warships and a couple of warplanes explode simultaneously from his viewing vantage. “Something has happened. Please hold,” he urgently said to the Premier as he rushed to the bridge window, holding on to the phone. From where he stood, he saw huge black smoke from where two battle ships and a cruiser floated seconds before. From the sky, smoke trailed the falling remnants of six planes.
“Premier, the fleet is under attack,” Commodore Masliv frantically said over the phone.
“What?” the Premier burst. His blood pressure rose.
“The Americans have fired and destroyed three of our warships and a number or our warplanes in international waters unprovoked. The remaining ships are sitting ducks in this narrow strait. There are more US planes heading here. A US attack submarine is in the vicinity. Are we to retaliate?” Unknown to him was, the four of the six planes destroyed were US warplanes, the first to reach the island's vicinity.
“Retaliate. We did not start this, they did. Retaliate!” the Premier screamed and hung up. “General Petraish, launch all our missiles against all US and Allied targets and mobilize all our forces,” he ordered and added, “Comrades, we are at war!” he said as though delighted and relieved by his decision.
“Yes, Sir,” the general replied and immediately went into action.
Their Fuel
“Where is the ship getting all this energy?” Amo Obib asked in disbelief. “Trigor, where is Goopersh?”
“Goopersh is deactivated. I, Trigor, control all ship functions when the ship is under attack.”
“Where are you getting your fuel?” asked Amo Obib.
“I am independently powered.”
“Transfer your fuel to Goopersh?”
“I am not programmed to do that. Returning control to Goopersh once the threat is no longer present.”
“Goopersh has no fuel to run the ship. If you do not transfer control of your fuel to Goopersh, the ship will implode.”
“I am not program to share my fuel,” Trigor replied.
“Show time of control transfer to Goopersh on the screen,” Amo Obib ordered and glanced at the digital clock displayed. They have twelve minutes left! He stayed motionless on the command chair pondering on a solution.
At Rosenthal Research Center
The little that was left of the Research Building was in flames. The Administrative Building had its east side gouged and on fire. The blast blew a large section from the second level through the eighth floor, twenty-nine office rooms wide. The conference room at the northern wing of the building was in shambles. With half of its side wall gone, the skylight lit the room.
The heavy conference table, on its side, saved the President and General Perkins who were thrown behind it during the explosion.
A few feet away, Secretary Newman was on the floor with Advisor Short partly on top of him. He pushed Advisor Short’s body aside and saw half of the face blown off. Unhurt, he ran out in panic.
The President and General Perkins, joined by his aide and seve
ral Special Service Men vacated the building through the fire-escape stairwell. Before they reached the ground level and on the stairway, the phone within the briefcase, chained to the President’s Aide, rang.
The Aide swiftly got the phone out of the case and handed it to the President.
“This is the President . . . repeat . . . Let me confer with General Perkins, General Perkins,” he called in urgent, holding on to the phone.
General Perkins rushed next to the President.
“The Russian launched missiles against us and all our NATO Allies,” the President said. “Hundreds are in the air. A large number are heading for our country. Missiles launched from Russian Atlantic nuclear submarines will hit east coast's targets within six minutes. More are coming as we speak. There are missiles heading for west-coast targets. Estimated time of impact - fourteen minutes. What are our options general?”
“I don't think we have any but to retaliate. The attack here was to take you out of the picture and create initial confusion . . . a clear sign of a preempted war. We need you to give the orders, Mr. President.”
“We retaliate. Goddamn! Retaliate!” he shouted.
Inside the Pyramid Ship
Confused to what was happening, JP asked, “What is going on, Lulu?”
“If Trigor, another computer, transfers control to Goopersh, the ship will implode as Goopersh has no fuel to run the ship. We have less than five minutes to act!”
“Who is Trigor?”
“Trigor must be a defense-programmed computer running independent of Goopersh” Lulu answered. “The attack on the ship activated it as we are on defense mode. My father is puzzled. We all are. This ship, in theory, has no fuel to even fly out of the island. Apparently, Trigor has a separate fuel source and won’t share it with Goopersh!”
“Does the ship have two separate fuel sources?” JP said it fast.
“Two working in tandem.”
JP looked at Amo Obib and said, “Sir, I am a computer programmer. I may be able to help.”
“Please,” Amo Obib replied in desperation.
“Can you think of a reason why a separate computer program must handle the defensive system?” JP hastily asked.
Amo Obib gave it a thought.
“Father,” Lulu interjected, “you told me Goopersh is incapable of attacking.”
“Yes,” Amo Obib replied. “Goopersh will automatically neutralize and shutoff controls to any ship armament it detects when activated.”
“Therefore, in order for the defensive system to retaliate, Goopersh must be deactivated?'”
“I guess it did just that,” Amo Obib quickly responded.
“Lulu tells me there are two fuel tanks,” JP asked.
“Yes. Tank 1 and 2.”
“Then both are empty?”
“It must be as Goopersh monitors both tanks”
“Trigor must have an exclusive use on one of them. Can I communicate with Trigor?”
“Sit here and start the sentence with Trigor.”
JP sat on the command chair Amo Obib vacated and immediately said, “Trigor, what is your fuel status?”
“Fuel status, full,” Trigor replied.
Amo Obib, Ningning, and Lulu could hardly believe what they heard and looked at each other in disbelief.
Amo Obib hastily said, “One of the two tanks must be full and under Trigor's exclusive control,”
“Trigor, which fuel tanks are you hooked up to?” JP asked in a deliberate tone.
“Hooked up to fuel Tank 2.”
“Trigor, is there a link valve between Tank 1 and 2?” he asked without missing time.
“There is a link valve that connects both tanks.”
Amo Obib looked at the transfer time status then said, “Young man, if you must do something, do it now. We don't have time.”
JP was too preoccupied to answer or maybe even hear. ‘What would he do if he were the programmer?’ he asked himself then said, “Trigor is the link valve between tanks open?”
“Link valve is open.”
“Trigor, close the link valve.”
“Link valve is now closed,” Trigor replied laconically.
Surprised, Amo Obib said, “The fuel indicator reads the fuel tanks as half full. Young man, you did it!”
“Not yet,” JP replied and continued, “Trigor, can I view the sensor that monitors the link valve status?”
“Please view the screen.”
In the fuel compartment, a remotely operated vehicle (ROV) flew from its dock to the link-valve control panel and zoomed on it. On the screen, it showed the control panel door wide open and electronic circuits within exposed. Lulu, who was intently looking at the screen, noticed something unusual. A small looped wire dangled within the control panel and called everyone's notice, “There is a trip wire shorting two connections at the top right of the screen.”
JP focused on it and with signs of relief said, “Trigor, remove the tripwire.”
The ROV’s mechanical arm removed the wire.
Amo Obib looked at the valve status which read ‘CLOSE’ a second before, now read ‘OPEN’.
JP took a deep breath and his posture relaxed while the rest were visibly tense. He smiled at Amo Obib and Ningning and said, “It's done.” JP went to Lulu’s side and said, “I love you.”
“I love you,” Lulu replied and hugged him. She then bade her parents, “Papa, Mama, Naska is Imar,” not knowing what JP did.
“Control transfer to Goopersh in six seconds,” announced Trigor.
“I pray it works,” Amo Obib said as he held Ningning by his side.
“It will,” JP confidently replied.
No one felt the control transfer when the timer read ‘zero’ to everyone’s delight. Simultaneously Goopersh announced, “Goopersh activated and in control.”
Amo Obib wasted no time to sit on the Command Chair JP vacated. “Goopersh, report fuel status.”
“Fuel tank half full. Detecting multiple nuclear detonations on planet Earth,” Goopersh reported as it displayed planet Earth on the screen.
Amo Obib, though shocked reacted decisively, “Goopersh, go back to Earth and neutralize all nuclear warheads you detect anywhere now!”
“Neutralizing all nuclear warheads,” Goopersh acknowledged and from the pyramid ship's apex, beads of light shot out for targets on Earth in rapid succession.
“What is happening?” Ningning reacted on seeing multiple nuclear detonations on the planet.
“World War III has begun,” Amo Obib answered in dismay. “The ship’s laser gun is firing on nuclear warheads that has yet to detonate and converts its core to harmless material,” he explained. “There must be thousands of them,” he added in astonishment and horror.
The entire East Coast of the United States was on ship’s screen. It was on the dark side of the planet. Small bright light-orange dots that got larger each second marked the hundreds of nuclear blasts on the east coast. When the ship flew over Europe and still on Earth's dark side, the scene repeated itself. Hundreds of nuclear detonations were concentrated on USSR and its satellite states. The same scenes of destructions appeared to United State allies in Europe and elsewhere.
The four stared at the holocaust before them in silent horror.
‘What has humankind proven and accomplished?’ flashed through Amo Obib's mind as he walked towards Ningning and held her by his side.
THE NEW WORLDS
Rosenthal Research Center Grounds
President Smith was being led away from the burning building to a safer ground when he saw George Rosenthal in handcuffs behind them. He accosted his security agent who held Rosenthal’s arm, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Sir, he helped the woman escape.”
“That’s the least of our problems. Release him,” he said commandingly. “We need him more as a freeman than a prisoner. We are in a state of war,” the President said to Rosenthal.
Taken aback, Rosenthal reacted,
“The Soviets declared war on us?!”
“They already launched their missiles!”
Before Rosenthal could say another word, a secret service man approached and said to the President, “Mr. President, we have to secure you.”
“Very well,” he answered then turned to Rosenthal. “I have to leave. I advise you to stay away from military targets.”
“Why?”
“Russian missiles are heading for west coast targets. Expect them within fifteen minutes. Good luck.”
“Thanks for the warning,” as he shook the President’s hand and responded, “Good luck to you too, Mr. President.”
David, on a golf cart, parked by Rosenthal’s side. Without fanfare, Rosenthal stepped in and said, “Russian missiles are in the air and will reach west coast military targets in less than fifteen minutes. We are not far Point Magu Military Naval and Airbase so I think it’s better we see our life’s end from the vantage of the hilltop ahead, if you know what I mean.”
David understood what Rosenthal meant. Taking shelter made no sense. They were but a few miles away from two sure military targets, Point Magu Naval and Air Base, the closest. He drove and parked the golf cart at the hill’s top and walked away with his cellular phone in hand and left Rosenthal standing by the cart who was trying to get in touch with JP over his cellular phone.
JP’s cellphone rang on the floor at the Administrative building. After several tries, Rosenthal stared at the phone then punched keys; waited; then said, “Katie . . . I’d like you to know that there are only two people in this world that means a lot to me. It is you and JP . . . Katie just listen as we don’t have time. Many times in the past, I wanted to tell you that I . . . I love you, Katie . . . Thank you so much for your years of devotion,” he hung up.
Rosenthal dialed JP’s electronic mailbox then said, “John Paul, this is your Dad. Forgive me for all the time we lost. I love you, son. I never thought I could say those words and feel it. It is only now that I realize how wonderful it is to say them to people that means a lot to me. I only wished I had said it more often.
“John Paul, I want you to take over the company. Shutdown all companies related to war armaments. Divert the funds and asset to ventures that will help humanity. It’s too late for me to do it. You do it for me. I want . . .”
“Mr. Rosenthal,” David called out as he pointed toward the sky. “Missiles are coming,” saying it casually.
Rosenthal scanned the area of the sky where David pointed. He discerned faint white lines etched high up in the clear blue sky. He was certain one missile carried twenty-four warheads and each headed for its programmed target. They were clearly visible with its white streak against the blue sky as it plummeted earthward. Two headed in their vicinity. “John Paul, I love you. Bye son,” Rosenthal concluded his message then he looked at the panorama around somewhat leisurely.
As the white streaks in the sky became bolder, David knew they barely had a minute left. He went by Rosenthal’s side and said, “Mr. Rosenthal, it was a pleasure working for you,” then noticed Rosenthal was not looking up but rather scanning the horizon.
“Likewise, and call me George,” Rosenthal replied as he continued to view the scene on a clear day from the vantage of the hill. “You know, David, it's really a pity that it is only now that I see this beautiful panorama. I have been on this hill at least twice and never saw this awesome scenery. How blind . . . David, at the last minute of my life, with all the power and wealth I amassed, I come to realize I have accomplished nothing. With all my wealth, I come to Him poor in spirit with a worthless story of a life of a vain man. What a waste. What a fool.” He turned to David and added, “David, if given another chance, I want you to help me build another empire. One that will help people of the world. We will divert all our resources to find ways to clean our planet of pollutants in the air, land, and waters; develop clean, cheap fuel and efficient engines to power industries and transportations; better fertilizers to increase agricultural yields; better insecticides to control pest, do pharmaceutical research to combat diseases; and find ways to make nonproductive resources of this planet productive.” He looked up and saw three projectiles heading near their vicinity. “We don't have time. Lead the prayer,” he hastily said.
David prayed aloud, “Our Father, who art in heaven . . .” and Rosenthal echoed. As they prayed, they watched a missile head within three miles east of them. It did not explode in the air as they expected but continued earthward and disappeared. They followed another projectile and, to their surprise, it disappeared behind a distant hill without exploding.
“Russian hardware,” Rosenthal retorted. “There's another one and it's heading for Edward’s Air Force Base.” Realizing it was over twenty miles to the northeast, he pulled David to the ground and hurriedly said, “Close your eyes. This time we are far from the target. We may live to tell a story.”
Flat on the ground, Rosenthal turned on his cell phone and listened. He heard no static discharge that follows a nuclear blast and joyously said, “David, none of the missiles exploded. Come, we have a lot to do to build a better world. So, help me God, that will be the first and last thing I will do.”
Trickery, a Virtue
Goopersh reported, “All nuclear warheads are neutralized. 1,353 nuclear detonations detected and concentrated on Eastern United States and Europe, and USSR.”
Amo Obib sat on the command chair. “Goopersh, start decontaminating Earth’s atmosphere of radioactive contamination,” he ordered.
Goopersh responded, “Initiating decontamination procedures.”
Amo Obib turned to JP and curiously asked, “What was the function of the trip wire?”
“Answer this first, what would Goopersh do if the fuel link valve sensor indicated ‘closed’”
“Goopersh would open it.”
“As I suspected. Tank 2 was full all the time but the fuel status must read EMPTY for Trigor to have exclusive use of Tank 2. For Goopersh to think it’s empty, the link valve must read OPEN when in reality it was close. That was the primary purpose of the trip wire.”
Lulu joined, “So they installed a tripwire, making Goopersh think it is open when it was closed all the time. Goopersh was monitoring only Tank 1!”
“I think I understand,” Amo Obib interjected. “If Trigor transferred control over to Goopersh with the tripwire in place, Goopersh would instantly sense the link valve to be close and would open it then we would be in trouble.”
“But why did they do that?” Ningning asked.
“I think I know,” Amo Obib answered. “During the switchover procedure, they must have caught the conflict between Goopersh’s programmed responses to Trigor’s retaliatory actions when they simulated an attack to the ship. In that scenario, Goopersh, programmed to never to use the ship’s armament, will shut it down the instant the armaments are activated. Short of time to reprogram, the quickest solution was to close the link valve and short the monitoring circuits such that ‘OPEN’ on Tank 2 really meant ‘CLOSE’. Unfortunately, they had no time to relay the message to us as Goopersh was offline during the switchover.”
Ningning responded lamentably, “All the time we had the fuel but had no way of knowing.”
“How did you come to a solution so easily, young man?” Amo Obib asked.
“Trickery is a virtue humans are good at,” answered JP.
“We should learn that,” Ningning reacted.
“You are better off without it,” JP responded beaming.
Giving it a thought, Ningning replied, “You are right, young man.”
Amo Obib understandably smiled.
Ningning asked Amo Obib, “Do we have enough fuel to hook up with the colonizing module?”
“Enough to get them and explore a hundred of galaxies.”
“Sir,” JP started uneasily. “Will you take Lulu and her sisters with you?”
“Much as Ningning and I would like that, Lulu and her sisters are Humans and fit more with your societ
y than with mine.
Elated, JP held Lulu’s hand and said, “Sir, I would like to take then this opportunity to ask for your daughter's hand.”
Amo Obib grinned at Lulu, said, “She’s old enough to make that decision. If she wishes to marry you, I have no objection,” and then turned to Ningning.
Ningning beamed at JP and hugged Lulu. She said, “However, Amo Obib and I must know your name first.”
Lulu introduced JP.
Amo Obib said, “It is our custom to have the parents around in a nuptial ceremony. Are your parents alive?”
“My father is and my Aunt Juaning is like a mother to me. Can they be transported here for the occasion?”
“That will not be a problem.”
Half an hour later, one of the many mosquito-size surveillance craft sent to search for Rosenthal found him at his downtown office. It sent live a video image of Rosenthal kissing Katie at the hallway with people around applauding.
“Should we take both of them?” Amo Obib asked.
“Please,” JP replied.
They did and got Juaning, and Lulu's four sisters who were fortunate to be no way near a nuclear blast.
THE FINAL DECISION
The reunion was concluded with Amo Obib officiating a simple marriage ceremony for Rosenthal and Katie; JP and Lulu. At the ceremony’s end, they realized there were many reasons to celebrate but had no food in the ship.
“Can we buy groceries?” Juaning curiously asked.
“Can we, Papa?” Lulu asked.
Ningning, who stood beside Amo Obib intervened, “Of course we can,” then looked at Amo Obib, “Right, Amo?”
“Right,” Amo Obib responded, grinning.
“I’ll pay the tab,” Rosenthal offered.
“Use credit card?” Juaning asked.
“I don’t carry cash.”
Juaning exclaimed, “Use plastic and adulterate the occasion? I got real money and will take care of it. Right, George?”
“Right,” Rosenthal replied smiling.
“Who will go?” asked Ningning.
“All the women,” Juaning responded quickly. “We were made for that. We leave the old ones behind.”
“Then JP comes with us,” joined Lulu. “We need someone to carry the heavy stuff. Right, JP?”
Before JP could answer, Lulu’s sisters altogether shouted, “Right!”
Everyone laughed and soon after the women and JP prepared to leave the ship.
Less Damage
Amo Obib and Rosenthal walked the women and JP to the transporter room. They watched them de-materialize. Amo Obib commented right after, “That’s where our future is heading.”
“Right,” replied Rosenthal.
Both men heartily laugh.
Rosenthal asked, as they walked, “With the fuel, what are your plans?”
“Oddly, I have yet to think of it. I never thought it would end this way. It wouldn’t be as easy just to leave.”
“I would surmise you are contemplating on helping us Humans.”
“Clean the atmosphere; help rebuild North America and Europe . . .”
“That will take time,” Rosenthal interjected. “You can’t be at all those places at the same time.”
“How true. However, we can help those we can easily reach out to. It will take two days to get and bring back the colonizing module. With over 250,000 Rians and our technology, it will take less time to help the wounded; the sick; and rebuild what was destroyed. That will give Earthlings a good start.”
“When will helping stop?”
“I do not understand,” Amo Obib replied as he looked at Rosenthal, bewildered.
“Rebuild North America, rebuild Europe, famine in Africa; the epidemics in Asia. The list has no end,” Rosenthal stressed.
Amo Obib stayed quiet for a few seconds. “I see your point,” he reacted. “I had the same dilemma when I felt it better to build a city for the Migrants. Then, what about the people at the other continents, in Central and South America? Of the places where the Migrants came? It does seem there is no end.” Unable to find an answer asked, “What would you suggest?”
Rosenthal weighed what he would say as he looked at Amo Obib then decided to go about it his normal way, “Leave,” he stressed. “Leave us to our own problems.”
“Just leave?” Amo Obib retorted.
“You’ll do less damage and us humans, more good.”
Amo Obib was taken aback. He expected him to be elated, grateful, appreciative, and thankful. The help was freely given! The word, ‘less damage,’ rang in his head. He looked at Rosenthal questioningly not grasping what he was trying to convey, the logic; the wisdom. He must understand knowing his decision would affect two worlds. He pursued the subject, “I still do not understand human ways. You are more in a position to comprehend the consequences of my action by being Human.”
Rosenthal grinned. “Lulu explained well your culture, your ways that I understand your dilemma. Your culture has conditioned you to help. You cannot depart from your nature. You can’t help but help.”
“Helping each other should be a way of life. What is wrong with being helpful? Forgive me, I do not understand.”
“Helping, by itself, is noble. It is when you must decide when it’s better not to help that a line is drawn. Leave us Humans to struggle and be proud of what we will accomplish for ourselves when the need arises and in spite of all the problems. Leave us to learn from our mistakes and triumph over it. That’s the best help you can give.”
Amo Obib gave it a serious thought then said, “I see your point. We must let humans fend and solve their own problems as we Rians must fend and solve ours. Thank you.” He paused for a moment then with a sign of relief said, “We will stay long enough to clean and repair Earth’s atmosphere then reunite with the colonizing module and search for a new planet we will call our home.”
“Will you bring Lulu, her sisters, and JP with you?”
“JP asked the same question of me. I wish we could be with them but my children are as human as you are. Lulu has JP. I worry for my four other daughters. They are so innocent of Human ways. I wish . . .”
“You need not worry. I will adopt and care for them as though they are my own.”
“Naska is Imar. I mean, thank you so very, very much. Ningning will be so happy to know that,” he said with delight then added, “I will leave behind all of Ria’s science and technology and will need someone to administer its distribution as some may not be wise to divulge at this point in time. Do you know of anyone who may be able to help?”
Rosenthal, with a wide grin, replied, “I think I do.”
NASKA IS IMAR
I spent years to write this novel, my first, for you. I would be so grateful if you can spend a minute to write a review. Assess it for its story as I am not a professional nor a literary writer but merely a storyteller. Naska is Imar.
To write a review: Ctrl + Click the link below then scroll down to the end of the webpage. You will find it at the bottom and on the left side of the page. Thank you for your time.
About the Author
I was born December 14, 1943 in Davao City, Philippines. In education, I took Bachelor of Arts major in mathematics, Industrial Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, and Masters in Business Administration. I migrated to the United States November of 1976 and work there until 1997. My last employer was Mileage Plus, Inc., a subsidiary of United Airlines, as a Senior Systems Analyst. I retired on that same year and returned to my native land, Davao City, Philippines and had lived there to this day. I have a son, John Paul (JP) Campo who resides in Los Angeles, California.
On and off, from March of 1981 till December 31, 2016, I struggled to finish this novel, titled Help. With no formal writing training, I literally told a story (tell) opposed to the literary standard of ‘show.’ The story’s pace is very fast as there are a lot of scenes to cover. I can only hope that the quality of the story as written, and the philosophical and moral issues it address
es and subtly embedded in the story itself, will not be impaired.
Other books by this author
I have another book but still in my head. My writing it depends largely on how this novel, Help, is received. Stories of a couple, extremely wealthy by themselves but keep it a secret even between them and to the people they have to live with. Couples who sought a happy and meaningful existence for themselves and for the children. A life opposed to opulent living they and their children could have easily be part of. Of how each fought hard the temptation to reveal and use their wealth when life got tough. Of the problems, each had, to raise two boys (one became an addict) and a girl, and teach them something of better value when money, material things, and social life style were issues. How each, very discreetly, poured millions to improve the quality of life in their small community without others knowing for their children and the community’s sake. The book will be titled, “The Other Life”---a contrast between opulent living versus simple life---which is better for you and your children?
Connect with Arturo Campo
At 74 years of age, as of December 14, 2016, learning is not easy but familiar with HOTMAIL.
Write me directly through my email address: [email protected].
DEDICATION
To the loving memory of my father
Anastacio Malaya Campo
My mother
Remedios Ponce de Leon Fernandez
My wife
Luningning Aguirre
--------------
With much love
John Paul Campo and Melody Tibong
Acknowledgements
You will never know just how far your help got me going.
Many thanks:
Nena Gutana
Caridad Marasigan
Norma Ezpeleta
Antonio Bacalso
Glen Cear
Melchor Espiritu
and most specially Marijack Pamintuan and Stephen Brandon. Both inspired me to finish this novel.
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