Alien Deception (43 page)

He glanced toward Leumas and saw his face reflect the sadness again at the loss of the three agents he had trained. "All three agents were killed on Beta-747 and two of the bodies were moved. The third body was found on the planet by Leumas, where an attempt to take his life was narrowly averted. One of the missing agents was mysteriously delivered here to our chambers, and the other was placed on Earth and found by humans after a mysterious communication leaked the information to the media."

"Why were they killed and displayed so horrifically?" The harsh voice of a Braxian sounded through the armor plate that covered his body in an intricate weaving of thousands of little pieces, like the scales of a fish.

"I don't know," Greg answered, his frustration evident. "I suspect it's a message of some sort intended to scare us. The only clue we've found so far was a note—a riddle of some sort. We're studying it to see if we can determine anything from it, but so far have come up with nothing. To further complicate matters, the facility on Earth where the body was being examined by the humans was mysteriously destroyed, adding further controversy to the discovery."

"How was the body brought into the Council chambers?" The delegate from Hoposes 7 asked, its two-lobed head (half-male, half-female) twitching in anticipation of the answer.

"We don't know how they got it past security. We're still looking into that."

"Someone in this Council must be involved," shouted a member from the delegation from Sigma 354. Rhino-shaped, it leaped upon its table, stomping its heavy feet in a ceremonial ritual of anger.

"We don't have any evidence at this time to support that," Greg assured him. "Until we do, I will not support or address that issue and I don't think this Council should either. All it will cause is suspicion and a breakdown of trust."

"Is it true the ambassadors from Arcturia have been killed?" the robotic humanoid shape used as a receptacle by the energy life forms of the inhabitants of Segworth 2 asked.

"Yes, that is also correct. Their vessel was attacked as it entered this solar system. We don't know who the attackers were or why they attacked. The ambassadors' ship was completely destroyed. Again, another riddle of some sort was received and we are working on that one also." Greg paused as a momentary silence ensued, then continued. He knew he had to show them something positive from all of this. "If nothing else, we can draw one conclusion. All the events are related and are very likely the work of the same life form or group. It would also appear their goal is to destabilize this Council and this planet."

"Leader," the Iris 5 ambassador said, "what are we to do about this incident?"

Greg had assumed someone would ask this question. It would be the most difficult to answer. He felt fairly sure there was more to come yet, and it would not be good.

"First and foremost, we must let cool heads prevail. Be rational and work together, and be prepared for further developments. The life form or group responsible will be brought to justice." Greg could feel the group settling somewhat, but it was still shaky ground.

"We have one piece of information that may produce some results," he continued and noticed many delegates' interest become aroused. "The Arcturian vessel transmitted a message to us as they were being destroyed. Unfortunately, the majority was garbled too badly to make any sense of it. However, there was one word of the message that was comprehensible. The name of the planet Acuba."

The conversations and exchanges among the ambassadors rose to a furor. Greg could hear the fear in their voices at the name of the planet; its reputation as a harbor for criminals was well known.

"It's just a planet," Greg said in a stern voice, trying to dispel their fears. He had to yell it several times to get them to be quiet. While he waited for them to settle down he heard the name he had known someone was going to bring up—Copolla. His stomach soured at the thought of his old enemy. Some of these delegates actually believed Copolla was not dead and was only waiting for the right time to emerge again and take over the galaxy.

"Yes, Leader," the ambassador from Iris 5 noted, "but it is a planet that is not a member of this Council and is reputed to harbor some of the worse criminals of the galaxy."

"We shall see," Greg said as he turned toward Leumas. "Leumas is going to pay Acuba a visit and conduct a fact-finding mission for the Council."

All eyes in the Council chamber turned to the Interstellar Planetary Affairs Coordinator. Leumas slowly stood, nodded to Greg, and then faced the members.

"If there's anything on Acuba that concerns these bizarre events, I'll find it and bring it back for the members to evaluate," he said.

He sat down amidst murmurs of approval. He looked toward Greg and smiled, yet in his mind were the words he had not said,
I hope.

* * * *

Edward and Sarah arrived in Washington DC and immediately met with his chief of staff, security advisors and press secretary regarding the press. The media were all frothing at the mouth for information regarding the alleged cover-up and the destruction of the hospital where the supposed alien had been held. The mood was full of tension and tempers were running extremely high. Everyone was worried about the disastrous effect this kind of bad press could have. Edward needed to clear the air and get his people's concerns out in the open.

"Well, what do we have?" he asked, his lips tight.

"Not much," Clyde Barnes, the head of the Secret Service detachment, answered grimly. "This reporter, Schume, has some photographs, but there's no way to validate them. The explosion eliminated every trace of what was in the morgue. The explosive…" he hesitated in embarrassment. "We're not able to identify it and neither can any of the law enforcement agencies around the world."

"Well, then, what's the next step?" Edward asked.

"Mr. President," Monroe began. "We need to make a statement on what we know to the public before Mr. Schume or any other reporter says something else in an attempt to discredit you."

Monroe was obviously in a frenzy trying to figure out how they were going to address the matter. His nervousness was apparent to the rest of the members assembled in the room, but Edward knew he was an excellent thinker when the pressure was on. More than once when things were looking extremely bad, he had brought them through by finding a way to explain the inexplicable in the most sensible of ways.

"I can see your point," the president said. "But what are we going to tell them? We don't have any answers, just further questions and speculation. Monroe, you've been creative on many occasions. Don't you have even a wild idea?"

"We could…twist it around on them," Monroe said, with a sudden look of excitement in his eyes. "They keep accusing us, but isn't it convenient for them?"

Edward looked at him with a confused look. "I don't understand."

"Suppose the body turned out not to be an alien, but some hoax the media initiated. Perhaps Mr. Schume has put together some plot to make us look bad. Right now, there's no way we could prove him wrong and he has nothing else he can use against us. Maybe
he
destroyed the evidence."

"I like it," Edward said. "It's a little ugly, slinging mud and all that. But what about the explosive? How do we get away from that one?"

"It's new, that's all. We've just not seen it before. Does that mean that it comes from outer space?" Monroe chuckled. "It could've just been developed by some group of terrorists or something, maybe another government, and no one wants to take credit for making it."

"That part may backfire if we're not careful," Edward cautioned. "If something is new or unidentifiable, people immediately suspect secret organizations or hidden conspiracies, usually involving political connections. But there isn't a whole lot we can do about that. It'll have to be enough for now."

The president looked from advisor to advisor, all good people he had handpicked, and asked, "Are there any other comments?"

There were none. Edward stood and slowly paced the room. He knew they looked to him for strength and determination. It wasn't about his giving orders, which they, like little robots, went out and followed to the letter. He knew these people did what they needed to do based on the trust and encouragement he bestowed on them.

"People, I hope you see what's happening," he said. "We announce our breakthrough in space travel and immediately someone or some group wants to create a strange liaison with aliens. I ask myself ‘Why?' and the answer I get is ‘People still don't trust people.' This was a cheap shot at trying to derail our success.

"I want you all to coordinate with Ms. McClendon to increase our media campaign of awareness of how our successes will help our great country. I especially want the statement we were blindsided by the reporters reiterated again and again. I won't have cheap journalism or people who think cooperation is another word for ‘conspiracy' to think they have a victory here. Is that clear?"

Heads nodded in unison, indicating new vigor in their determination. This team had always possessed confidence in their commander-in-chief and shared his enthusiasm, but now they were ready to rally to his call, charge out and do what he needed done.

Sarah admired Edward for his speaking abilities. It was almost like the ability to influence, in a sense, the way he could sway a group or individual with his passion for speaking. This was one of the qualities that made him a great president. Nobody had to talk for him and, when he did speak, it was from his heart with sincerity and understanding.

"Okay, then," he told the group. "What're you all standing around for? Let's get to work. We have a press conference to prepare for."

* * * *

Ray Schume sat in his office at the
Washington Tribune
composing the story of the government cover-up on his computer. He played with the wording to be speculative, but to leave the reader wondering. Always leave the reader wondering was his cardinal rule, even if he had to stretch the truth a bit. That was how he had made his name in the news world—his ability to make the most open-and-shut case seem controversial, thereby causing people to question what they thought to be true and indisputable.

Schume's work during the last presidential campaign two years earlier had been critical to the fall of the two-party political system that had dominated the country. There again, an anonymous informant had given him information leading to breaking news that garnered him a spot in the world press. From these sources, he had received information that proved there was a party collusion in full swing and totally without the knowledge of the public. That had opened the gates for President Edward Samuel to get elected.

But things had slowed down since then and Schume had hoped he would soon get lucky again. It was certainly nicer to be on top.

He was placing the final touches to his story on the explosion at the hospital which had destroyed his evidence that would have blown the whole story open. Now, he was speculating recklessly, which was bound to raise the eyebrows of even his staunchest reader.
Perfect for circulation,
he thought.

However, there was nothing substantial enough to prove his accusations against the government either. It was a word-against-word scenario and he knew he would not win.

Glancing up at the clock, he returned to his typing as the hour grew nearer for the press conference the White House had called. He surmised they would rebut all of his accusations which was exactly what he wanted. Trying to regain his train of thought, he lost it entirely as the telephone began to ring.

"Yes," he answered, his frustration evident.

"The president has called a press conference in one hour," the familiar voice said.

"I know and so does everyone else in the country," Schume said curtly. "If you have something, it needs to be better than what we've got so far. Otherwise, we have—"

"I'm the person who's going to make you famous, remember?" The voice dripped with sarcasm. "I sent you a note about the explosive being from ‘off-world,' I believe the term was."

"A lot of people tell me they're going to make me famous," Schume sneered.

"Let's not forget the advance notification about the body's location. So, shall we move on?"

"Okay, so maybe you can do what you say you can," Schume stated nonchalantly. "So far, I have no credible evidence I can use. I need proof. Something substantial I can lay before the masses."

"All in good time, my friend. In good time." The sneer was evident even through the electronic distortion.

"Do you have anything for me or not?" Schume asked, his impatience obvious. "I have to get going to the press conference."

"Be very careful, Mr. Schume. I do not take to rudeness well. It has always been a weakness of mine."

Schume moved the telephone to his other ear, somewhat nervous about the dangerous undercurrent in the mysterious voice. He had heard the hidden anger and ruthlessness in that tone, and realized suddenly this association could be extremely dangerous to his health.

He had dealt with many mass murderers and killers, talked with them for hours and hours on the eve of their deaths. He could hear the insanity in their voices that convinced him if they ever were released, they would kill again. This conversation was beginning to feel like one of those.

"Please, go on. I'm listening," he said.

"Very good. I am glad to see your…change of heart." The caller chuckled. "Now, what I want you to do is to look in a slightly different direction."

"Different direction?" Schume asked in confusion. "I don't understand what you mean."

"Sometimes the past can be very revealing about what's happening in the present. In particular, I have an individual in mind."

Schume felt a cold chill go down his spine. However, despite his apprehension, he felt once again strangely compelled to follow up on any lead he could get related to this story. He reached for his notebook and pen and prepared to write. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake he would regret.