Chapter Thirty-Six: The Assassin, the Antarctican, and the Alien

Marty Reese had stalked the three candidates throughout their Russian campaigns. He’d seen Dubois scream “Stop the Invasion!” from the steps of the Kremlin. He’d watched Ajala reason with hecklers at Saint Isaac’s Cathedral in Saint Petersburg. He’d wondered if Platt really had a chance. He listened as he spoke at the Port of Tallinn in Estonia about his compromise plans for universal hunger and the English First! movement.

And then came the North Korean crisis. Where Platt leaped to prominence. The more he saw, the more Ajala looked like a loser. Dubois was going to win. Reese was sure of that. But this Platt fellow was getting popular.

Forget Dubois. Forget Ajala. Perhaps Platt was the one to kill. Or was he? Maybe he should wait a little longer to decide. He breathed heavily a few times. At times like this he could barely breathe.

Reese sat in the back of the upper stands, watching the table tennis exhibition. He again wore his old-style blue American uniform. With the empty sleeve where his right arm used to be. He knew it made him stand out. But he liked the uniform. With a small pair of binoculars he watched Platt sitting in a front-row seat with the other important people.

Reese was as surprised as everyone when the alien joined the exhibition. Some of his youthful idealism returned. He wondered what it would be like for humanity to go to the stars. He thought the xenophobic Dubois a fool. Humans were immoral idiots. Watching the alien was like taking a deep breath over a fine wine.

The world seemed split on the alien. Half thought as Reese did. The other half thought it a threat. Reese knew a cure for this. A way to make the alien extremely popular. It had worked for Lincoln, Kennedy, and Brown. The attempt on Wallace had made him even more popular than before.

Perhaps he should kill the alien as well.

When Toby was called out to respond to questions, Reese listened attentively. The man handled himself well. If he continued to gain popularity, he would die. So would the alien that had befriended him. A waste, he thought. But necessary.

When security appeared, all eyes but Reese’s were transfixed on the scene. The crowd watched as heavily armed men threw the net over the alien and carried it away. Reese’s attention stayed on the crowd. He wanted to see how they’d react. Once again, they were split. Half were cheering, seeming to agree that the alien needed to be taken into custody—no doubt they’d seen Dubois’s propaganda. The other half were booing.

He imagined their reaction if the alien and Platt were actually killed.

* * *

Melissa had sneaked out of Liberal Headquarters in China for the table tennis exhibition. She’d never been a big sports fan, but this was different, almost history, as the legendary political operative Bruce Sims took on the world’s best player. She had good seats near the front as she snacked on salted seaweed, and watched them play.

Of course, only insiders really knew of Sims, often called the brains behind Toby Platt, who in turn had once been called the brains behind Dubois. She’d never been so nervous as when she’d argued with Sims at the Mexico City fundraiser. She’d covered up for her nerves by spewing facts as fast as she could talk, to the delight or horror—she wasn’t sure which—of both Sims and Platt.

She was amazed when Twenty-two went to the table and showed her abilities. Had she really just learned to play, as Bruce insisted? Or had the aliens been watching humanity, and learning about the game, allowing Twenty-two to practice before coming to Earth?

Toby’s responses to the impromptu questioning session impressed her. He had a knack for giving out punchy, yet informative sentences. Dubois would have responded to everything with slogans, Ajala with a lecture.

She dropped her bag of peanuts when they arrested Twenty-two. She couldn’t believe it was happening. Is this the face of humanity they wanted to show the galaxy? Her faced flushed red; she was embarrassed to be human. She flushed further when she realized she had reacted like a stereotypical selfish human, thinking of ourselves first. An innocent being had just been arrested, and her first thought was how it made humans look. What is wrong with our race? was all she could think.

She knew Dubois was behind this. She vowed to do whatever it took to defeat him in the election. Who could beat him, Ajala or Platt? Soon she would have to choose.

* * *

Twenty-two had been caught completely off guard by the sudden attack. She now realized she’d been overconfident after the two previous attacks. The vest defended against most projectile and energy weapons, as well as knives and fists, but not against being carried away in a net. A military forcefield with a locking mechanism would have provided full protection, but her vest only had a simple protective field.

Removing the vest was also rather simple for the humans. While several burly ones held her down, another pulled it up over her head. They laid her sideways on a bed—a highly uncomfortable position for a grod, who normally always stood—and tied her arms and legs together, leaving her defenseless. Then they tied her eyestalks down as well, so she was unable to even look about the room.

With the vest went her sensor, which would have allowed her to communicate with Zero, and order the ship to come to her rescue.

They also took off her velvo, exposing her mouth. Embarrassing as that was, she realized it was the least of her problems. From her reading of human history, the average human could be as savage as the most deranged grod.

“How are you today?” It was the familiar voice of General Duffy. “The rest of you can go.” The guards in the room left, leaving Twenty-two alone with the general. “We found this device in your vest,” and he held up her sensor. “I haven’t been able to get it to work, but I think the scientists will have a great time studying it.”

“Is this standard Earth treatment for visiting ambassadors?” Twenty-two wondered if human science was advanced enough to figure out how the sensor worked. She had no idea. She was no mechanic, and didn’t really know the inner workings of the sensor herself. She found it hard to think while this human stared down at her naked lips. She vowed not to forget this, then put it out of her immediate thoughts. Her mind cleared.

“Are you under the impression that you are asking the questions?” Duffy asked. “You’re a prisoner of war and will be treated as one.”

Bruce would have had fun responding to that, she thought. “I must have missed the invasion. Or have you declared war on Grodan?” That would be a short fight. Actually, she doubted there would be such a fight; Earth couldn’t send anyone to Grodan, and Grodan had no interest in a backward planet like Earth that had not even qualified for Galactic Union membership.

“Again, you ask questions.” Duffy leaned over her; she could smell his breath, which was highly unpleasant. With their velvos, grods did not breathe on each other. “But I’ll answer. On your planet, do you have a home?”

“Yes.”

“Suppose you found a stranger in your house. What would you do?”

Twenty-two could see Duffy was about to play a semantics game. “I’d ask the stranger to leave.”

“And if the stranger refused to leave?”

“Wouldn’t you call the police?” Grods, of course, would handle the problem on their own, with their more independent nature. She’d learned humans were different.

“And if the police arrive, and try to make the stranger leave, but he evades them, and hides somewhere in your house? Why, you’d probably worry about your safety with this criminal in your house.”

“I am sure you have a reason for asking these questions.”

“Of course. Do you know what this is?” Duffy held up a metal tube, about six inches long and an inch thick. He grabbed one end and it telescoped out to about two feet in length, with one end covered in copper. He held it over her like a club.

Twenty-two gave it a look. “I see Earth has discovered electricity.” She recognized it as a torture stick, something she’d read about, but never expected to see. Her two hearts began to beat rapidly.

“Very funny. You’ll find out more about electricity shortly. Think about it carefully when you speak with me. I think this is the part where I’m supposed to say I don’t want to use this, but to tell you the truth, I do.” The general grinned, showing her his teeth, which seemed all gold. Was that a style thing, she wondered, or did they have archaic dentistry on this planet?

“Now, when we first learned of your uninvited presence on our planet, you were asked to leave. You wouldn’t. Security tried to arrest you, but you evaded them. You are no different than that criminal who broke into your home. You are as dangerous to us as that criminal would have been for you.”

Twenty-two thought back to her time at the university when she’d studied first contacts. She didn’t remember a chapter on alien ambassadors about to undergo torture. The whole point of first contact was not to get into that situation. Perhaps a real ambassador would have succeeded, but she was just a college student. A terrified one.

“It’s time to get to business,” Duffy said, pacing around to Twenty-two’s back, where she couldn’t see him. “I want to know all about grods, especially anything pertaining to their military strength, spaceflight capabilities, espionage activities, and colonization plans for Earth.”

Espionage activities and colonization plans? “High, high, zero, and zero.”

“What?”

“I said—” Twenty-two broke off with a high-pitched cry. Duffy had applied the torture stick to her. Time seemed to stop as the excruciating electric charge shot through her body, and she screamed as the agony went on and on and on…

“That was a low setting,” Duffy said as he turned the charge off. “Do we have a better understanding now about sarcasm?”

Twenty-two’s body involuntarily shook, but she didn’t say anything.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, let’s start with Grodan military power. What are their capabilities?”

“We could destroy Earth with the push of a button without ever leaving Grodan,” she lied.

Duffy rewarded her with another dose of electricity as she screamed in agony.

“I don’t believe you,” he said. “I want the truth.”

If she backed down now, then he’d shock her after every answer to see if she changed her answer. “I told the truth,” she again lied. She felt dizzy and desperately did not want to be shocked again.

Duffy studied her for a moment, and seemed about to ask another question. Then he changed his mind and held up the tube.

“I still don’t believe you.” He extended the torture stick.

Someone opened the door to the interrogation room. Duffy pulled the stick away from Twenty-two, collapsed it back to its smaller size, and put it in his pocket. He then turned to see who was at the door. Twenty-two was facing the door, and saw who entered.

Corbin Dubois.

Several others that Twenty-two recognized as being Chinese followed. They gathered around Twenty-two.

“Has she told you anything useful?” Dubois asked.

“Not yet,” Duffy said.

“Why was the alien screaming?” a Chinese man asked. Twenty-two recognized him as Chinese Party Leader Chuan Lijun. “

“I don’t know,” Duffy said, “perhaps it falsely expects to be tortured, and screamed in fright? Unlike our enlightened society.”

“You know China adheres to international law, and does not allow torture.”

“Of course,” Dubois said, smoothly interrupting whatever Duffy was about to say. “However, this alien is a prisoner of the United States of Earth, not any particular country. I’m ordering her moved to a more appropriate facility.”

“You have that authority,” Chuan said. “Where would you like us to send her?”

“You don’t need to send her anywhere,” Dubois said. “I’ll have a security detail here shortly. We’re taking her to France.”

Twenty-two threw up the contents of her stomachs.