Archangel Crusader (28 page)

"I'd be glad to help in any way I can, but I may not be the expert you need for the job." Michael wondered what kind of savage his alien father thought he was. "Did you ask for reinforcement from your home planet? You cannot face a whole fleet with only one ship."

"You see, my people do not have fighting ships." Amrah smiled at Michael’s surprise. “Besides, they never get involved in other worlds’ conflicts. My interest in Earth is very... Personal, as you may have guessed. My ship is bigger and hopefully more powerful than any of theirs, but it cannot withstand a whole fleet."

The odds didn't look good. “So, we’ll have to fight on our own?"

"Earth technology is no threat to the Reptilians. It would help, however, if your people participated mentally."

“
How So?”

Amrah hesitated. "If you lent us the energy of your collective minds, it could give us an edge, but we would need at least a third of the population to participate."

Michael whistled. "One third? That's no small feat. I wonder if I can rally that many. The population at large is not quite ready for the full impact of this news. It could mean panic. I can see the headlines, 'Aliens waging war in our sky with Earth as the coveted prize.' No. We would achieve panic, not a pool of mental energy. How about a mass visualization? Can you draw on that kind of energy pool? Would that help?" Michael was running out of ideas.

"It might work," Amrah said with some enthusiasm. "We could use the power generated by a dynamic picture, something hypnotic that would focus the mind."

"How about all the media on Sunday showing a picture of Earth seen from space, revolving slowly, bathed in a blue aura of health, peace, and harmony?" Michael pictured it in his mind.

"Good. We can broadcast an image of your planet, live from space via your telecommunication satellites. Maybe we could add an appropriate soothing sound, something they never heard before, something compelling that would induce concentration... We could maintain the broadcast for twenty-four hours on all frequencies. Do you see any problem on your end?"

"I like it. I can see it from here, a big, blue planet on the front page of the newspapers. I have only three days to warn the TV networks, though. We could make up a story about an international space program experiment in conjunction with a worldwide meditation for Earth Day."

Michael wondered briefly about the ethical implications. He would be lying, but he saw no alternative. "With Debbie's help, we might be able to wing it. By the time the space committees officially deny any scientific experiment, it will be too late. Some governments may even take the credit."

"I hope they get a chance." Amrah’s dark eyes rested fondly on Michael.

During the short trip back to Earth, both Michael and Jennifer remained silent. Michael grimly pondered the slim chances to repel the oncoming invasion while Jennifer, unaware of the threat, obviously tried to digest all the wonders she had just witnessed.

*****

Jean-Marc Fontaine felt relieved when he finally saw the landmark he was looking for around the bend. This Arkansas farmhouse had proven harder to find than he had imagined. He longed to hold Tori in his arms and could hardly contain his curiosity as to this newfound child of hers.

Jean-Marc also wanted to find out how his wife had ended up in this place. Relinquishing the ever-appraising cat would also come as a relief. Not that the animal caused any worries or complications. It was well behaved. Despite multiple attempts at French dialogue, however, neither man nor feline trusted the other.

"Well, Shadow, my reluctant friend, you should see your rightful owner soon." The cat perked one ear, showing some interest.

The stately car bounced ahead of a trail of dust toward the isolated cluster of wooden structures constituting an ordinary farm. Two children emerged from the barn and stared at the silver car coming down the road. Tori came out of the trailer, flushed, arranging her hair in haste and checking her slim-fitting jeans. When Jean-Marc opened the door and stepped out, she rushed into his arms.

"Mon amour, it's been so long. I missed you so much..." He gathered her in a tender embrace and kissed her mouth with hunger.

"I know... I missed you too," Tori answered, as soon as he let her breathe again.

By then, the children had joined them, and the curious head of Shadow peeked through the open door. One child spotted the cat in a flash and called its name. That was all the feline needed to overcome his mistrust of strangers. He ran into the girl’s legs. Jean-Marc assumed it was Jennifer. She picked up and hugged the poor thing too tight, but the cat did not seem to mind and purred all the same.

*****

"How did you find me? I thought I'd never see you again," Jennifer purred back to the pet. Then, remembering the company she was in, she made formal presentations. "Clara, this is Shadow... Shadow, this is my cousin Clara."

Tori laughed and, still clinging to Jean-Marc, introduced him.

"Thanks for bringing Shadow..." Jennifer felt a little intimidated by this elegant man who was so nice to her and her mom. She didn't know quite what else to say, but her smile must have been explanation enough.

The Frenchman smiled back. "You are welcome, Jennifer. Nice to finally meet you... It is a pleasure to see the happiness in your eyes." Then he turned back to Tori and lavished her with his attentions.

*****

How could Michael possibly meet the required participation? He had teleported back to Debbie’s office in Washington D.C. to take part in the craziest campaign of all. How could he promote such an event in three days? One third of the population? It was far more than rallying ten percent of the votes at election time. Michael doubted his ability to succeed. It took most of his energy just to contact enough key people on such short notice. Thank God for the Internet.

On day two, Michael found himself sending and receiving faxes, phone calls and e-mail at an accelerated rate. Data traveled back and forth across the planet in every known language. The twenty phone lines rang like on a TV marathon drive. Electronic equipment, loaned or donated, crowded the small Washington office. The official website went on overload several times. Fortunately, computer experts had rushed to the rescue.

Michael's concentration was put to the test by the constant racket. The buzzing and beeping tones, the rings, the excited conversations of the volunteers helping him... Even the radiating disturbance of computer monitors and keyboards affected his ability to visualize a positive outcome. The smell of strong coffee permeated Debbie's office, transformed for a few days into World Visualization headquarters.

Michael felt tense despite his training. "Debbie, how's it going on your side?"

"Most TV networks refuse to believe that the worldwide transmission of a single image from space is even possible. Advertising it may prove tougher than I thought. Good thing some of the executives in charge, touched by our previous campaigns, do trust our sources."

"Well, that's a start. Don't get discouraged Debbie, you're only human. Do your best and be proud of yourself for your successes. I personally think you do a hell of a job, damn it!"

"Thanks for cheering me up, big guy, I needed that." Debbie smiled and went back to her phone. Her voice sounded hoarse from too much talking, too much coffee, and not enough sleep.

She looked emaciated. Her careful makeup did not hide the blue smudges under her eyes anymore. Michael noticed the vial of Zantac by the coffee mug. He felt guilty, putting her through such stress in her condition. The thought of curing her had crossed his mind many times, but Debbie had refused, still troubled by his unusual powers. In any case, he couldn't spare the energy right now, and in two days the whole human race might die anyway. Michael had to concentrate on the task at hand.

Fortunately, devoted Walter backed Debbie up without question. His network at least would support the project. Thanks to the communication system initiated at the beginning of the Crusade, a constant flow of information could be processed and expedited. The data, propagated by a domino effect, spread to the most isolated corners of the world, bouncing off computers and fax machines in remote places.

Volunteers from all walks of life had answered Debbie's call for help. The place resembled an anthill feverishly preparing for an incoming assault. Little did they know how much was at stake, Michael thought, thankful for their dedication.

Of course, the New York Times requested references from the scientific community before publishing a single word, and no expert would comment, based on the lack of data.

The various tabloids couldn't care less about World Visualization or space technology. That piece of news was not sensational enough for them. So, Michael gave them the true but incredible story of aliens waging war nearby, needing help to protect the planet from certain destruction. He provided computer-generated pictures of Amrah, surrounded by other blue aliens with big elongated heads and huge dark eyes, and a scary portrait of the snake-like Lufriec. He even pinpointed on a space map the location of the starship hiding in the shadow of the moon.

When Debbie read the article, she looked shocked. "Do you really want to send that garbage? How can anyone believe such a distasteful story?"

"The truth has many faces, Debbie, and this, as unsavory as it seems to you, is one of them."

"Well, whatever it takes. Bad publicity is better than none at all I guess, right?"

Michael could feel that she didn't care much for it. “Right." This was obviously not the time to tell her the whole truth. To her and the crew, Earth Visualization on Earth Day was just a neat challenge to promote solidarity.

Each and every group involved in the previous Crusade was presently engaged in the race against the clock, actively printing pamphlets to distribute on the street, inviting the masses to participate in the World Visualization.

High-quality color photographs of the planet Earth viewed from space made their way to each and every newspaper, with sufficient ideological data to issue a decent article. Michael had imprinted each picture with a psychic compulsion to publish it on the front page that Sunday.

The formidable Asahi Shinbun, the most widely read daily newspaper in Japan, surprised everyone by responding enthusiastically.

Michael read aloud from the computer screen, “The Japanese people welcome the opportunity to improve their image in the eyes of the world. By participating in a noncommercial event, they hope to demonstrate high morals and team spirit.”

This bit of good news was received with cheers from the tired team as congratulations rained on the lucky volunteer who had dealt with the paper.

Radio disc jockeys all over the world proved easy to sway. Some saw the event as an opportunity to promote world peace. Others saw a chance to get ahead in their ratings. Sometimes, the little guys could make a big difference. Michael couldn’t afford to neglect any involvement, no matter how small.

Russia, or what was left of it, had everything to gain from participating, but in central Europe, where violence still smoldered, participation would probably be slim. Western Europe responded with quiet reserve, as usual. Poring over the reports told Michael where he should concentrate his efforts.

Not every country reacted with Australia's eagerness. Some Moslem countries even claimed a conspiracy of infidels against traditional Islam, while others welcomed the prospect of American military support. Central Africa picked up the challenge of peace as one more game. South Africa embraced the project. Central America had mixed factions, and South America's participation would stay partial. India at large, however, agreed to take part with ‘colossal enthusiasm,’ according to the bulletin.

The great unknown remained China. Its huge population could mean the difference between victory and failure. Michael needed their participation to save the human race. The greatest efforts had been deployed to provide information and pictures, but little information filtered back on how the event might be received or if it would be publicized at all. Hong Kong sources sounded optimistic, but nothing transpired from Beijing.

Through it all, Michael watched Debbie who fought courageously, losing herself in a battle that wasn't hers. This remarkable woman gave away all her strength selflessly for his cause, but he knew all along that each effort brought her closer to her grave. She deserved the title of Crusader.

*****

Meanwhile, at the FBI headquarters, a special witness gave a deposition.

"Yes, that's him all right." The Weasel stared with a crooked smile at the photograph on the desk, a picture of Michael Tanner.

"Are you absolutely sure?" The federal agent in the three-piece suit looked interested. The other agents listened quietly.

"I'm positive, sir, I swear on my mother's grave. That's him. I never forget a face. I would recognize him anywhere. He's a big guy, six foot tall at least. Mean..."

"Please, tell us where and when you saw him?"

"Always a pleasure to be of service to my country, gentlemen. Where do I start... I picked him up at Adams Air Field in Little Rock, Arkansas. You see, I was supposed to take him to Las Vegas, but he pointed a gun to my head and demanded that I drop him off over Yucca Lake in a military zone." The Weasel shifted his gaze from agent to agent, evaluating the risks he was taking against the amount of the reward. It wouldn't do to reveal that he willingly accepted the run to settle an illegal debt.