| |
[From Drew Gambon’s notes. RBB]
‘Let’s call this to order,’ said Brad Gregg, bringing down a heavy glass paperweight onto the desk.
The group of five had swollen to more than twenty. Mixed ages, ethnicity and sex, although the majority were male and fifty-ish.
‘Before we start, might I remind you that everything said in our meetings is secret. Speaking of our activities outside this room will endanger us all. Another group in Charleston was betrayed last week. They were taken away and nothing has been heard from them since. We believe they might have been summarily executed.’
‘We don’t know that for certain,’ said General Dick Beech hurriedly. ‘Let’s not start jumping to conclusions.’
‘Yes. Fair enough,’ said Brad.
‘Okay,’ said the general, standing up and taking control of the meeting. ‘You all know why you are here. We are setting up a militia. I have had a meeting with Congressman Charles Mayne, and he has appointed me his military adviser.
‘I’ll be travelling around the states, talking to small organised groups, like ours, and coordinating a plan. Brad is my assistant and Mike is now the leader of this cell. What he says goes.’
Mike Henderson stood and took a bow.
‘Thank you, Mike,’ said the general. ‘Colonel Mike Henderson will be organising weapons and a location where you can meet safely. Brad’s cellar will, in future, only be used when I need to hold meetings with cell leaders.
‘What I do want to say to all of you is that we are embarking on a dangerous enterprise. Our country, which we all love, has been taken over by a power-crazy individual who has convinced himself that he is right in all matters. What we are doing is not because we are disaffected Republicans, or Democrats for that matter. We are taking action because our president was murdered by Slimbridge and we want to restore order and democracy. The general populace is not stupid, but people who are fed continual lies and alternative truths will be swayed by those arguments when there is no one putting an opposing point of view. Such people are a real danger to us, but they are not our enemies, it is a form of brainwashing and we need to rescue them.’
‘Are you all with us?’ shouted Brad.
‘We are!’ returned a chorus of voices as their owners began, uncharacteristically, banging on anything which would make a noise.
They quickly realised their rowdiness was not appropriate and, eventually, the din died down and the general continued. ‘I am now handing over to the colonel. He speaks for me in all command matters.’
Mike lifted his muscular two-hundred-pound body out of the easy chair to the right of Brad’s desk. The epitome of a fit American football linebacker, he strode confidently to take the ground in front of the assembly.
‘You all know me. The people who we will be facing are disciplined, professional soldiers and police. If we are not from the same mould, people will die. Many of you... in fact, most of you are ex-military, but we all know how quickly we become soft and opinionated. I need to whip you into shape. This is not a game and any of you joining up with anything other than total determination to beat Slimbridge would be better not returning after this meeting. However, do tell me if that is the case. We will not hold anything against you. What we are about to undertake is not trivial and I need well trained soldiers who will follow orders. Do I make myself clear?’
There was a chorus of ‘Yes, sir,’ and several jumped to their feet and saluted.
‘Right. We start tomorrow.
We meet at nineteen hundred hours sharp at the Methodist church hall. Don’t walk into that hall a minute after that time! Those of you who have uniforms, check if they still fit. Remove stripes or pips – no one brings any rank into the first session. I will appoint chains of command after I know your fitness and abilities. If you are wearing your uniform to the meeting, conceal it under coats. We don’t want busybodies reporting a military gathering to the police. If any of you are challenged, you are attending a Gulf War reunion. Is that clear?’
‘Sir,’ came from the assembly.
‘Is that not clear, Armstrong?’
‘Yes, sir. Clear, sir.’
‘Then next time answer before being asked!’
‘Yes, sir,’ the man said, colouring somewhat.
‘Those of you with weapons. List them accurately together with ammunition. Don’t bring the weapons, but do bring the list to the meeting. Be sure to check your weapons are serviceable. Major Drew Gambon will need those lists so that he can ensure we are all supplied. Major, how did Harry West react when you approached him?’
‘Very well, sir. I have him researching what military weapons he can acquire. I’m seeing him again tomorrow morning. His son is here, sir. Show yourself, West.’
A young man stepped forward and saluted.
‘At ease,’ said Mike. ‘Back to you, Brad.’
There was spontaneous applause and cheering.
‘Meeting over!’ screamed Brad above the cacophony, which gradually died down and was replaced by the hubbub of people discussing strategies and resources.
‘Settle down, soldiers. This is not a Scouts’ meeting!’ shouted Mike.
‘Anything else, sir?’ asked Mike.
‘No, that’s fine, Colonel,’ said the general.
««o»»
[Extracted from a private diary note appended to the United Nations minutes. RBB]
A magnificent buffet had been laid out on one side of a large meeting room at Number Ten Downing Street. The serving staff left, and Lara Horvat looked at the plates and dishes. The prime minister walked past the open door, saw the secretary general and came over to her.
‘Everything okay, Lara?’ she asked.
Taken a little by surprise at the sound of someone beside her, Lara turned to the prime minister. ‘Oh, Maureen. Sorry. Didn’t see you come in. Yes, everything’s fine. It is so kind of you to offer this room and your catering staff for UN meetings.’
‘Britain’s pleasure, Lara.’
‘Must admit, I’m tempted to sample one of these anchovy hors d’oeuvres,’ Lara said and laughed as she popped one of the savoury nibbles. ‘Delicious,’ she said.
The prime minister also selected one and they ate the snacks like children who’d stumbled across the preparation of a wedding feast.
‘Right,’ said Lara. ‘I must go and prepare my material for the meeting. See you back here at one o’clock. Do I need to lock the door to stop you snacking?’
They both laughed.
‘No,’ said the prime minister. ‘I’ll resist any further temptation until the others arrive!’
««o»»
[From White House tapes. RBB]
The Oval Office was silent despite the presence of the military leaders. Admiral Mann and Generals Burko and Braun, Matthew Brown and President Slimbridge were all seated in the easy chairs and chesterfield.
The president looked aghast at General Braun and broke the silence, ‘You’re having second thoughts?! It’s a bit damn late to say you’re rethinking.’
‘Mr President,’ said Admiral Mann, ‘there is growing unrest in the country and while there is a hard core of supporters who believe the terrorist theory, the bulk of the population are hearing an increasing number of reports that it was us who blew up the United Nations building. We need to rethink.’
‘And do what, exactly?’ asked the president. ‘Show weakness and suspicion becomes confirmation.’
‘Sir,’ said General Burko. ‘We are getting intel on more and more armed groups and there are now rumours that they are coalescing under the command of General Dick Beech. That is a whole new ball game.’
‘Dick Beech? You mean the retired general? Spence’s man?’
‘Yes, Mr President. We’ve heard that he is now having meetings with disaffected politicians from all sides,’ said General Burko.
‘So, you’re all going soft on me now!’ said the president. ‘It was the three of you who encouraged me to take this course of action.’
‘We’re still backing you, Mr President,’ said General Braun, ‘but we all feel that the strategy needs to change or the Federationists will get organised and we could find ourselves in a full-blown civil war.’
‘No,’ said the president and bellowed into his intercom, ‘Deirdre!’
The secretary opened the door and said, ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Matthew. Go with Deirdre and get the media contacts. I want to make a nationwide broadcast. Once you’ve organised that, find Madison and write me a speech to defuse these feelings of rebellion.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Matthew, jumping to his feet and following Deirdre into the outer office.
‘What are you planning, sir?’ asked the admiral.
‘Burko, where are you holding that group of rebels you captured in Charleston?’
’Still being held in Fort Jackson, sir.’
‘How many of them?’
’Twenty-eight.’
‘What sort of structure did they have?’
‘Difficult to say, but six were quite high ranking military including three colonels, a major and two captains.’
‘Current or retired?’
‘All retired, sir.’
’This meeting is ended,’ said the president. ‘Burko, stay behind. I’ve a plan for the insurgents.’
««o»»
[Taken from Ambassador Trestogeen’s office files and notes. RBB]
Hareen Trestogeen lounged on a padded sofa which matched his flat-fish shape. He sipped from a large beaker of water and ran a sponge over his lips and gill area. Across the room a large window showed Earth; pale blue and white as it always looked from orbit in cloudy conditions. A cream and linen banded border showed the thin atmosphere which faded into the blackness of space. The captain of the Eskorav sat opposite him.
‘Istil, I’m in a quandary,’ said the ambassador.
‘I realise that, Hareen. I told you it was unwise to go down,’ the captain replied, her globular shape distorting and swirling with the colours of her own language. The ambassador would understand, but using Galactic Standard language ensured no meaning was lost in translation.
‘They need help down there. Not just supplies for the poor areas, but help with a strategy to bring the country known as America back into the international fold.’
‘I met both President Spence and then Vice President Slimbridge when I was first officer on the Ronoi.’
‘Were you on board during the incident?’
‘Yes, fortunately. Three of us had just returned from sightseeing in New York. We’d only been on board about ten minutes when the explosion rocked the ship. I was very lucky to survive.’
‘I suppose your species tends to be rather fragile,’ said the ambassador.
‘Yes, Hareen. If I’d been thrown against anything with edges, I’d have certainly been punctured and died. When the main blast struck, I impacted a corridor wall. Painful, but nothing cut my membrane. Developed an enormous bruise, though,’ said the captain as her internal organs came to the surface then retreated into her nebulous interior offering some sort of demonstration which was lost on the ambassador.
‘What did you make of President Spence?’
‘None of us liked him initially. He was full of suspicion of Federation planets, but by the time he returned with Vice President Slimbridge, he’d mellowed and become an actual advocate for membership.’
‘Yes,’ said the ambassador. ‘I got the same feeling from Ambassador Moroforon’s notes. What about Slimbridge?’
‘Completely different. He seemed hard and uncompromising from what I saw of him on the way to and from Arlucian. Sceptical and distrusting would be good words.’
‘Yes, I understand.’
‘What are you thinking?’ the captain said, flowing into a more upright-shaped balloon.
‘I don’t think I can persuade the cabinet to allow me to help Earth,’ said the ambassador. ‘So, I have to do it unofficially or not at all. How are the famine areas doing at the moment?’
‘I had dinner with Yol Stirik yesterday. He says that all of the supply missions achieved their objectives. There are large amounts of resupply starting to go into North Africa from Europe and Russia. The Myanmar refugee camps are now being resupplied by the Chinese.’
‘They’ve taken the principle of helping the poor on board, then? I wonder if that was, in part, owing to my dropping in on the secretary general.’
‘Well, they always had helped less fortunate nations and regions,’ said the captain. ‘The problem is that none of them were doing enough in the past, even the Americans who have always supplied the majority of aid to poorer areas. Their aid has now stopped, of course.’
‘The others, then, Britain, France, Russia and China, have learned from interaction with us and are trying to do more.’
‘From what Yol Stirik says, yes. Very much so.’
The two creatures sat quietly, as if all that needed to be said had been said. Ya Istil Sperafin knew that she’d been called in to the ambassador to try to help him make a decision on intervention. It wasn’t allowed and, if the cabinet discovered the truth, Yol Hareen Trestogeen would certainly be recalled and never invited to be an ambassador again. Istil knew which way she hoped Hareen would go, but would he? There were many hazards down that pathway.
‘I think I’ll have to investigate further,’ said the ambassador. He looked at his secradarve. ‘I’d like a cloaked shuttle to take me to London at the fourteenth hour please.’
‘No problem, Ambassador. I’ll see to it,’ the captain said. ‘You’re going to intervene then?’
‘Yes. I have to. As well as being the Federation’s representative, I feel a connection with the people of Earth. They’re so kind, but so foolish, almost in equal measure. Completely forsaking them strikes me as like deserting a drowning child.’
‘It will not be seen like that on Arlucian.’
‘I know. I’ll find out whether or not we can work together and then make a decision,’ said the ambassador.
‘If you then fail to assist, it could have a worse effect than not helping in the first place,’ said Ya Istil.
‘I know, but still I must do my best. You’ll organise the shuttle?’ said the ambassador. ‘You know I don’t have very much time left?
‘What? Your spawning schedule?’
‘Yes. I would dearly love to sort out this world’s problems before the time comes.’
‘I’ll arrange the shuttle, Hareen,’ said the captain, leaving the seat and floating out of the room on her personal hoverette.