by Rob Buckman
“Yeah, I guess so. All this is our fault, or the end result.”
Brock shook his head. “Then I wonder if it was worth it.”
“We can’t change what we did, only what we will do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Try to make a better world for these people.”
Brock eyed him for a moment. “Are they worth it?”
“I hope so. I really do.”
* * * * * *
The next morning, the limousine, now chauffeured by a new driver, stopped in front of an impressive-looking tower somewhat reminiscent of the old UN building. A uniformed page waited for their arrival, and for a moment, he backed away when a tall black woman stepped out. To the page, she looked like something out of a storybook his mother had read him. He tried to stay calm as he escorted them through the lobby and over to the elevator bank, standing back in the corner as they crowded in after him. He looked up, thinking these people had to be gods.
“Welcome to the World Council Headquarters. Which floor would you like, please?” a male computer voice asked.
“Floor one hundred and fifty,” the page answered.
“Thank you. Floor one hundred and fifty,” the computer answered, and they felt the elevator rising rapidly. Once on that floor, the page led them down a long hallway and knocked on a set of double doors at the end. Hearing “Come,” he opened the doors and stood back. Janet and Kat stepped first into the room, hands inside their jackets, and moved to one side.
“Come in, Admiral Drake, we’ve been expecting you,” President Westwood said, coming forward with his hand outstretched. If the rest of the people in the room were expecting Scott, none showed it. No one turned, or acknowledged their presence in any way, making it plain they didn’t want to talk to him, or hear what he had to say.
“I hope you are recovered from your experience yesterday?” Westwood said.
“Oh, we are, but I wonder if those other people have.”
A frown crossed the president’s face. “I think, the less said about that the better.”
“Yes, I agree.” Scott would have liked to say more, about the beating of innocent people, but this wasn’t the time or place. He also had more important things to consider at the moment, like defeating the lizards. When that was done, the time would come to speak of other things.
“I’m afraid it was harder than I expected to get all of the councilmembers here,” Westwood said, softly, while Scott and the rest settled into chairs in the large room.
“But they’re all here, all of them?” Scott asked, seeing Hiro and Janet moving around the outside of the crowd to secure the door at the other end.
“Yes, everyone whom I felt has any importance, or involvement in the present situation.”
“Good. I suggest you step over against the wall, just in case this gets messy.” Westwood looked startled for a moment, then nodded.
“I think you are right, good luck,” Westwood whispered, and walked to the window to look out, feeling a certain uneasiness. He agreed in principle to what was about to happen, and the reason. Yet it upset his world view, and portended change for the future that he wasn’t sure he was ready for.
It was one thing to accept these people’s help in defeating the aliens, yet another to what this would do to his world when this was over. He was under no illusions as to what would happen, but as Scott Drake had observed, you couldn’t get the genie back in the bottle once it was out. For better or worse, this world would change, but he was honest enough to realize that perhaps it was time for a change. Yesterday’s incident with the religious police was one example. Scott Drake’s people had little or no tolerance for religious repression, or that of females. It was a question of whether this world could survive these radical new ideas, and how it would change to adapt to them. But that was for the future. To have a world to change, first, they had to defeat these aliens.
Unaware of Westwood’s troubled thoughts, Scott stood for a moment, looking the crowd over. One or more of these people had tried to have him and his people killed, but that was only the beginning of the list of crimes. If it was only one person, he felt sorry for the rest, but guilt by association had hanged more than one man in the past. Slowly he began to walk down the length of the room, simply pushing people out of the way if they didn’t move. Behind him, he left a trail of spilled drinks and ruffled feathers, but he got their attention. Reaching the other end he winked at Kat, and turned to face the room.
“Now that I have your attention,” he began. “I have two pieces of information I would like to give you.” One or two deliberately turned their backs to him, but that didn’t matter, they’d turn back soon enough.
“Last night, we finished interrogating the captain of the craft we call the mother ship,” he lied. “That is the one that’s been coming to this planet and taking the children. During the interrogation, the captain told us the reason he came here this time was to take your children!” Now he had their attention.
“I was surprised to learn that apart from the president, none of you has had any of your children taken. That is about to change, as the captain informed me. If he didn’t get your children this time, then the next ship that came, would.” As the implications sank in, the last of the chatter died and they all looked at him.
“That’s why they sent a fleet this time.” He waited for the hubbub of talk to die down before continuing. They’d all started chattering like monkeys, waving their arms, the smell of sweat and fear permeating the air.
“How do we know this information is true?” Someone at the rear of the crowd asked.
“We don’t, except for the fact they did send one raiding party to New Zealand to try to get our children, but they failed,” he lied again. “The fleet we just destroyed was sent here with the express purpose of taking the children of the World Government.”
“Can you prove this?” one hysterical voice asked. Panic was starting to set in, which was fine with Scott.
“No, but I can show you what happens to those kids,” he said, signaling Kat behind his back.
The lights dimmed, and images of the mother ship’s exterior flashed on the wall. The camera moved forward into the airlock, though the cycle stage, and into the ship’s interior, just as Scott had asked for. This way they couldn’t say he doctored the video, or in any way contrived or faked the next images. Slowly the camera moved throughout the ship, from deck to deck, room to room, the scene becoming more terrible the deeper the movie team penetrated into the ship. At one point it caught the scene of some of the cleanup team throwing up, lending a note of authenticity to the documentation they were witnessing. The sound of people throwing up in the room was loud, much louder than the ones in the video.
“If you are wondering what it is they were doing with the children, they were butchering them for food, food for their kind to eat.” Scott paused, letting that idea sink in.
“These aliens have been coming here year after year and taking the children of this planet to use as food, and your kids are next, unless you send them to a safe place where we can protect them, like New Zealand.”
“Send your men here, you can protect them here can’t you?” an older man demanded.
“No I can’t. In this city, it would be impossible to protect them. Plus, that would have a detrimental impact on the people. They would demand that we protect their children as well, and I don’t have enough people to do that.”
“What about your spaceships,” another suggested. “Surely you can spare one or two to protect this city?”
Scott shook his head. “At Alpha base we have all the equipment needed to protect your children and ours, but you must send them there at once: there is no telling how soon the next alien fleet will arrive,” he lied. Hardwick added to the misery by playing the scenes inside the mother ship over and over again while Scott added, “And at this time, we’re not in any state to stop them, except at Alpha base.”
“How soon can we send them?” asked one distraught m
ember.
“Order up a transport now!” The panic was on, and it was time to drop the ax.
“I will take the children today if you want, but it must be all of them, no exceptions, otherwise I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”
“Agreed, I don’t think any of us would keep his child here until you have eliminated this threat to them,” one said, “but are you sure you can protect them?”
“The last time, the aliens sent five thousand troops to try to take our children. We defeated them then, and we’re ten times as strong now. We have a place where even the aliens can’t get at them, not without killing them, that is, but that’s not what they want, is it, they want to eat them,” he added, feeling uneasy at the malicious pleasure he felt.
“Allah protect us. I feel sick!” one councilmember muttered, looking around for a bowl.
“How long will it take for you to get your children here?” Scott said.
Another councilmember said, “They are already here, we have a special school for them right here on the grounds. All you have to do is get some transport here, and they can be loaded within half an hour.”
“Good, I’ll call in my transport right now. Why don’t you go down and get them ready, and say your farewells,” Scott suggested.
“But for how long? A week, a month?” That one had stopped to think, and that needed nipping in the bud.
“That’s hard to say at the moment, possibility two to three months is all,” Scott lied. “It depends on the next alien visit … which, if the alien captain is to be believed, is very shortly.”
It was a wonder that no one was killed in the rush to the door. In the end only the president, Scott, and his team remained.
“I’m glad you showed me those pictures yesterday,” President Westwood commented as he walked up. “Even so, that vid was a little hard to take.”
“It had to be done,” Scott said, shrugging. “What about your children, Mr. President?”
“The aliens took them all, I only have the two young females left.”
“I think you’d better go down there and tell your friends that they need to send the females as well, and make sure your dau— your other children are included as well.”
“You mean there is going to be a raid?”
“Yes, what do you think I’ve been talking about?”
“Allah be merciful, I thought you were using this … never mind, I’ll go right now,” he said, trotting out of the room.
“They thought you meant only the males?” Janet said, outrage written on her face.
“Don’t blame them, Janet. Different set of values. You order up the transport?”
“As soon as you gave the signal.”
“Good. I suggest we follow the stampede and get them organized.”
“Don’t you think it curious that all of their kids are in one place, Scott?” Kat asked as she came over.
“No. If you have a secret agreement with the aliens not to raid this particular location, then what better place to keep them safe?”
“You’re right.”
It was logical to assume that the traitor would want to keep his family safe, and put them in a location he knew the aliens wouldn’t come. The other children provided the perfect cover. It would be interesting to find out who among them suggested the other members of the World Council do the same. It might point a finger at the renegade. It puzzled him in one way: why would someone do such an act as to betray the human race? Fear? Power? Money? None of them made sense, but then again, what could an alien race offer anyone to betray his own species?
The same page was waiting as they exited the room, and he conducted them down to the family area below the ground floor. While they rode down, Scott saw that he was desperately trying not to cry, and nudged Kat. A small head nod in his direction brought her attention to him, and she returned it, indicating she would find out what was wrong.
They entered the school grounds to the sound of shouting people and crying children, and his team immediately began restoring a semblance of order. The children ranged in age from five to sixteen or seventeen years old, both girls and boys. The girls were being pushed this way and that, while the parents concentrated on getting the boys ready for the trip. Some of the girls started screaming when they saw Scott and his group enter, covering their faces with their hands.
The sunken courtyard wasn’t the place for the transport to land, since the open area in the center didn’t have sufficient clearance. Scott looked around the place, seeing doorways leading off the courtyard to other facilities. The doorways couldn’t be seen from above; they were set back from the open area under a wide, overhanging concrete shelf. The top of a protecting wall could just be seen from where he stood, making it double difficult for anyone to see in, or enter. That was smart, since the council wouldn’t want it generally known that they had a protected area just for their children.
CPO Hardwick walked up. “We’ve found a way to get them directly out of here and into the shuttle, it’s through that passageway over there. There’s a landing pad out there so they can pick up the kids and drop them off.”
“I suppose that’s so they can get them in and out without anyone seeing them, such as when they go on vacation or something,” Scott growled, feeling his anger rise.
“You could be right, start getting them moving in that direction,” Brock said, noticing an argument developing between the president and a tall black councilmember. Scott walked over, trying to listen, but with the bedlam going on around him, it was impossible.
“Can I help, Mr. President?” he asked as he came up.
“Yes, Admiral,” Westwood answered, looking flustered. “I have been trying to explain to Councilman Harkem that all of the children go, but he insists that he only wants to send his two sons to safety.”
“I understand, Mr. President,” Scott said with a smile, turning to the other man. “Councilman Harkem is it?”
“Yes, you can address me as—”
“I have no interest in addressing you as anything. They all go, or none, got it?” Scott said, and turned and walked away, leaving a spluttering councilman in his wake.
“Transport here, Admiral!” Janet called.
“Start loading them up.”
Within moments, a line had formed and they began filing out. Many of the girls stood against the wall, looking terrified, pleading with their parents to let them go as well. More than one received a quick backhanded cuff from their father. Scott was about to step forward and say something when Hardwick walked out into the center of the yard.
“Listen up all of you!” His parade ground voice echoed off the walls in a well-remembered bellow.
He got all their attention in the Naval Academy when he did that, and it was no different here. “All, and I mean all the children go, girls as well as boys, so get that through your thick heads and start moving!” He got his point across. Parents began rounding up the girls, or beckoning them over to join the line.
“Scott!” Kat said, walking up with the page beside her, holding her hand. “This young person wishes to go with us,” she explained.
“What about his parents?”
“I just got through explaining the situation to them on the videophone, and they agreed.”
“Well, I don’t see why not, are there any others?”
“Yes, fifteen in all.”
Scott knew Kat was a soft touch when it came to kids. “If you can get clearance from the parents, load them aboard.”
“See, I told you that he would agree,” Kat whispered loudly to the boy as they walked away.
“But you didn’t tell him!” the page said.
“Didn’t have to, he doesn’t care one way or the other.” Scott looked at the retreating pair, wondering what that was about. He didn’t get a chance to wonder long. Janet came running up.
“First shuttle away, loading number two.”
“Two!” he said, puzzled. “How many kids are there for Chr
ist sake?”
“Two hundred and thirty.”
“Yea gods, I didn’t think there would be that many. Do we have enough shuttles standing by?”
“Yes, sir!” Janet answered. “We didn’t know how many there would be, so we had extra shuttles on standby. We can fill three shuttles, and any stragglers can be loaded onto ours.”
“All right, get to it. Be ready to lift off the moment I’ve finished with the council.”
“Yes, Admiral.”
An hour later the place was empty, the last footsteps echoing around the strangely silent courtyard, and Scott was glad to leave. The place depressed him, and the faint red veil of anger clouded his thoughts. The security team had rounded up the council members and herded them back up to the conference room for his final speech. Walking through the doorway, he was met with a barrage of questions, but he ignored them and stood looking at the collection of multicolored faces around him. They were from all over the world: black, brown, yellow, red, white, and every shade of color between. They supposedly represented the people of this world and were appointed rather than elected to the position of trust. One or more of them had betrayed that trust, yet he had little sympathy for those not involved in the conspiracy. Instead of letting their children take the same chance as the rest of the populous, as the president had done, they’d kept them hidden in a secret compound. He couldn’t blame them in a way; we all want to keep our offspring safe from harm. Yet it galled him that they hadn’t given their wholehearted support to the one organization that could protect all of the people, not just a few.