Little Green Men (35 page)

Banion now turned his attention to the Millennial Man Militia Auxiliary Air Force, or MMMAAF. It consisted of four single-engine planes, nine hang gliders, two motorized airfoils, three hot-air balloons, and one motorized parachute, an odd little craft consisting of a sort of fan-driven, four-wheeled scooter with a parachute attached. The original plan was for them to overfly the launch area. But the real

Air Force, alerted to this stratagem, announced that it would summarily shoot from the sky, with aircraft far more fearsome than MMMAAF's, any airborne contrivance that transgressed the exclusion zone surrounding the launchpad. Banion caught Colonel Murfletit giving one of his pilots a surreptitious pep talk about the greater good of going down in a blaze of glory and emphatically reasserted his authority over the auxiliary As for Dr. Falopian. God knew what phlegmy fomenting he was up to. He had brought in a pallid, twitchy homunculus by the name of Fidge who claimed to be able to jam
Celeste's
guidance system by means of a mysterious "ultratransistor."

Banion posed the question he would have thought obvious: was it wise to cause a 4.5-million-pound rocket ship, full of the most combustible solids and liquids known to science, to go belly-up and plunge, flamingly, onto 500.000 people? (For that matter, was it fair to the poor seven astronauts aboard?) Though privately Banion wondered if America's collective gene pool might be better off. in a Darwinian sense, if it were purged of the population cohort that comprised the Millennial Militia.

"I have the distinct feeling," he announced to Scrubbs when they had a moment alone, "that this is going to end in tears."

Renira informed him that Deputy FBI Director Bargenberfer was on line, and that he did not sound happy, amused, or otherwise felicitous.

"It's come to our attention," he said, forgoing the usual howjados, "that some of your people are armed." A reference, obviously, to Group 51. Clearly, the FBI had copiously deployed undercover agents among the Militiamen. (Who could blame them?) Banion feigned ignorance as best he could but pointed out that the gun laws in Florida were notoriously liberal. The state legislature had recently repealed a measure that, during its brief time in force, had barred Floridians from owning twenty-millimeter cannons. Deputy Director Bargenberfer darkly warned that at the first sight of anything more threatening-looking than a slingshot, the Four Horsemen of the Federal Apocalypse would descend mercilessly upon him and the Militiamen, and grind their bones into plant fertilizer. Yet the very fact of the warning revealed its impotence. Was the government likely to provoke a clash with a crowd that equaled in size one-third of its armed forces? Banion could take comfort from the enormity of his army, however much it gave him the willies.

POLL: 56% SAY CELESTE LAUNCH RUNS RISK OF ALIENATING ALIENS

"Secret Service feels -"

"I'm not pulling out. damnit. I am going, and that's final." "FBI feels -"

"Does anyone in this room understand the English language?" "NASA feels -"

"NASA? Those yo-yos wouldn't
have
a space station if I hadn't gotten it for them.
NASA
better damn well be good to go. is all I can say."

"The First Lady feels -" "Meeting concluded."

"We've received over twenty-five thousand letters from schoolchildren begging you to stop the launch -" "Schoolchildren don't vote." "This one is from a Caitlin Gregg, age nine -" "I
don't
want to hear it."

'"Dear Mr. President, please don't make the aliens angry and wreck -"' "Meeting concluded! Out!"

The chief of staff went to his office in an attitude of misery to coordinate with the Secret Service and military the plans for getting the president to and from Cape Canaveral, preferably alive.

Alone in his office, the president pondered for a moment, then picked up his phone and dialed.

"Creative Solutions," the cheery female voice announced, "How may I direct your call?"

There were problems with the candlelight vigil, like coming up with half a million candles. Finally a New York billionaire who still preferred to remain anonymous, heir to one of America's oldest fortunes and an avid amateur UFO enthusiast, announced that he would airlift several tons of them in his fleet of private jets. In the midst of this, Renira announced that the president of the United States was on the line.

"Classy move with the hooker," Banion said icily. "Prick."

"That wasn't us," the president said, somewhat unused to this form of presidential address.

"Oh, please. What do you want? I'm busy."

"This is strictly between you and mc. I called that number you gave me."

"That's a start."

"I spoke to your guy, Mr. Majes
tic, whatever his name is."

“
And?"

"He knew from his caller ID it was me. Meanwhile. 1 had our people trace his number." 'And?"

"I told him about your visit to me. I instructed him to cease and desist whatever the hell he was doing with respect to whatsisname, Bartley. Scrubbs's friend."

"Bradley."

"Whatever."

“
And?"

"He told me I didn't have the authority to issue that order. I said, 'You hold on a goddamn minute, this
is the president of the United
States speaking.' Then he said that under the charter of MJ-Twelve -which he said was classified and wouldn't read to me - the president has no authority over it." "He did?"

"Then the su
mbitch hung up on me." "That's i
t?"

"FBI says the phone company doesn't have any record of the number. They're looking into it. Point is, I tried. I can't do any more, least not for the time being. Now will you call off your damn freak show?"

Banion considered. "The president of the United States can do better than this."

"They shut down the number! It's gone dead. They've gone to ground. What do you want me do?"

"You're the most powerful man in the world. Do
something."

"Now listen to me. You've got to stop this carnival right now. You tell those people whatever you need to. Tell them the aliens decided they like us after all. Tell 'em whatever you want. But you tell them to go home. Someone's going to get hurt."

"That sounds like a politician's promise."

"We'll get to the bottom of this Majestic business. I promise you. But we all need time to cool off." "I'd like that in writing first."

"Damnit it, J
ack, I said I'd work with you. Now call off your nuts. Do it now. We'll deal with your rehabilitation later."

On another phone, across from Banion, Scrubbs was trying to reach the MJ-12 number. He held the receiver to Banion's ear. "The number you have reached is no longer in service."

"I don't care about the exclusive," Banion said. "There are my cards on the table. You're the president, you tell the people. But I want the truth of this grotesque situation exposed."

"Look, if we, and I'm perfectly willing to share credit with you, can defuse this situation, everyone'll come out of this looking good. My pollster says I could get a bump of ten points if we have a nice, happy launch without any of your dogs howling at the moon. I could use that about now. Then - I promise you - we will get to the bottom of this hair ball. We'll make you whole again. I'll give you an exclusive interview, right here in the Oval. Televised live, just the way you like it."

"No," Banion said, "it would be better if it came directly from you, without me there."

He hung up.

Scrubbs said, "You just gave up a hell of an interview there."

Once again, Banion had no explanation for how he felt, but, having just forfeited a career-remaking opportunity, he was surprised by how at peace, even good, he felt. Perhaps, in a strange way, Scrubbs's abductions had served some purpose.

"Listen up, everyone," Banion announced, he'd briefed Dr. Falopian and Colonel Murfletit and told them to round up the leaders of the various UFO groups. Fifty or so of them stood inside the large tent, listening, awaiting the word from their commander to storm the gates. If this was war. let it begin now!

"I have spoken with the aliens," Banion announced in appropriately portentous tones.

A murmur rippled through the small crowd.

"I told them that I have spoken personally with the president of the United States. He satisfied me that there is no payload aboard
Celeste
hostile to aliens. They have accepted my assurances. And they have withdrawn their threat to destroy us. Let the launch go forward!" he cried exultantly.

The crowd's response was rather subdued, considering that he had just informed them the United States had been spared alien annihilation. In fact, they merely stood and stared at him blinking, twitching.

"I
said,"
he tried again, "that everything is all right. The threat is over! We can go home now! Our work is done!"

Off to the side, Dr. Falopian gave a nod to Colonel Murfletit, who in turn signaled several of his ascots. who moved in toward Banion, surrounding him. Then Dr. Falopian took the microphone and announced that he was relieving Banion of his authority over the Millennial Man Militia, on grounds of treason.

"We go live now to Ken Wentley, who is at Cape Canaveral. Ken, what's going on down there?"

"Tom, the situation here now could best be described as
confused.
We've had a report that John Banion, the leader of the Millennial Man Militia, is in the midst of some kind of power struggle with others in his organization. Some tell us that he's still in charge, others say that he is no longer calling the shots. We are unable to locate him for comment. As you can see behind me, the crowd is still very much here in force, protesting tomorrow's launch. We are told that elements of the Hundred and First and Eighty-second Airborne Divisions are in a state of high readiness. Earlier this afternoon the Air Force forced down a hot-air balloon that was flying over the launchpad."

"Is the president still planning to attend the launch tomorrow morning?"

"Tom, we're told that he is determined to be here.
Celeste
has been his pet project from the start, as you know. The details of his visit are being kept from us for security reasons, but I'd told that they plan to fly him from Washington to Patrick Air Force Base near here. Tomorrow, shortly before the launch, he will be flown in by
Marine One,
the presidential helicopter. I'm told it will be escorted by a
number
of helicopter gunships. It's a
very
tense situation here. Almost a war zone. Tom?"

"Thank you, Ken Wentley, at Cape Canaveral. We will of course be providing live coverage of the
Celeste
launch, starting at two
a.m.
Eastern time."

They were holding Banion in his flying saucer, along with Scrubbs, Renira, and Elspeth. Falopian had told the assembled that the perfidious Banion had cut a deal with the aliens and the government to sell out the Militiamen, who would be taken off to the mines of Noomuria in the Anthrax-14 galaxy. With the Militia out of the way, the aliens and the U.S. government would proceed with their fiendish plans to turn the earth's population into an interplanetary sushi bar and breeding facility. Banion had sold them out. Colonel Murfletit's unsmiling, ascoted myrmidons stood outside the door with strict orders not to let anyone in or out.

"I told you from the start those two were trouble," Renira said, playing solitaire.

Banion was on the floor, leaning against the wall, resting his head in his hands. He stifled a yawn. Scrubbs was rummaging around, trying to find a cell phone so they could call the president and advise him of the slight change in program. Elspeth watched the proceedings outside on a small TV Dr. Falopian was being interviewed by one of the blonder network TV correspondents. He was telling her that there had been an attempt on Banion's life by government agents, and that they were keeping him in a safe place. This vile attempt to silence him, he said, had only strengthened Banion's fierce resolve to stop the launch, at all costs.

"Oh,
G
od."
Banion groaned.

The correspondent, in the best tradition of the media's calming influence in any crisis, asked Dr. Falopian, Was the Militia determined to stop the launch
by any means'?
Dr. Falopian would not say exactly but conveyed his earnest hopes that it would not
...
come to that. And yet, alas, the government seemed
bent
on initiating intergalactic war.

Scrubbs gave up his search for a cell phone and sat down next to Banion. "You think Falopian and Murf are going to order an assault?"

"No," Banion said. "They don't want to die. They just want to be in charge. He'll give a big, rip-roaring speech tonight, claim the mantle of leadership of the UFO movement, then, after the launch, declare moral victory, denounce me, go home, and start collecting fat lecture fees. He's probably on the phone to the president right now. cutting some deal."