Wicked Messenger by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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Chapter 5
Harry was certain the rocket held a clue to his past. Becky enjoyed talking to it, as far as it would allow, as when she got really engrossed in a story it would sign off and never played any music. After they saw that no marauders or child molesters surfaced, Mom and Dad came to think it was some sort of malfunctioning talk-capable toy and went about their busy daily routines. Grandpa more or less forgot about the thing as he was more interested in telling his own stories and had a willing ear.
Harry made it a point to meet Grandpa on the porch. The brutally magnificent sun beat down on the parched desert land showing no mercy to the lower strugglers, but Grandpa was making the best of it. In his shaded seat he observed the withering plants no water could help, as their condition required a flood.
Harry’s entry jangled the screen door causing it to rebound and rebound against the moldings which restrained it. Harry sat next to the old gentleman and said; “Tell me a story, Grandpa.”
Grandpa looked as if he was being made sport of.
Harry gleaned that and added; “I’m not being sarcastic. I like your stories.”
“All right, here goes. When I was young there was a man who made his living by protecting the unarmed farmers. He could have worked the other side of the coin and made more money, but
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strangely he took less to do what he thought was right. A town of farmers was forced to give more and more of their crop to the marauders, to the point where, in one poor year, they were left with not enough to survive and they hired him, offering small wages. He took the job, and after killing one of the bad guys, the others left for easy pickings elsewhere. He had come to admire the farmers’ way of life and wanted to change his own, liked the farmers and asked to stay with them. He was referred to an elder of the now prosperous village who told him; ‘I’m sorry. It’s not any fault of yours, but you cannot stay here.
It’s just the way the world is ordered. The very way you are and think would disrupt the way of life we work for.’ After a few attempts at saying that his case was different, which resulted in no movement of the elder’s mind, he put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”
Harry was at a loss for words, not having imagined hearing something so mordant.
Grandpa sat quietly, distantly staring out into the sand, squinting because of the pitiless, inhuman sun in his naked eyes. He reflected on the truth he had seen in his years.
Harry said; “Tell me that you made that one up.”
Grandpa answered; “Wish I could. A version is also written in the Bible. Moses spent forty years leading his people through the wilderness to get to the Promised Land. When they finally
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saw it, God told Moses that he couldn’t go in. Seems damn cruel.”
Harry said; “It’s just a story, right?”
“Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got no use for religion. But, I think the people who wrote the Bible had insight. Certain events repeat and repeat and repeat. Sure, people think it’s a different story every time, but it’s the same old **** over and over. The good get sacrificed and the wicked inherit the Earth, no matter what ******** Jesus supposedly said to the contrary.”
Harry didn’t understand many of the specifics of what Grandpa was saying, but he thought he had the general drift. He said; “You’re in some mood today. Maybe we ought to get drunk.”
“Oh, man. Maybe. Maybe. You know, I knew these stories when I was young. At that age I thought I was smart enough to make things different. But, at this age I see I can’t fight destiny and I worry about Becky. She’s so sweet, but when she grows and sees some of this ........ Ah, **** on it.” He went inside and came back out with two screwdrivers, heavy on the vodka, sat and gave one to Harry. He took a gulp and continued; “Grandma’s been gone close to ten years now; Celeste. She didn’t come from around here; came here when we married. We had it good; you know what I mean. She was a city girl and this place took her some getting used to. Originally, I thought that I could protect her from everything out here, but I couldn’t do a **** thing with
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that cancer. ........... I still miss her and sometimes think that if I had any ***** I’d be with her. Sometimes I think there is something else left for me to do, but I have no idea what it is. ............... I’ve met some of the local spinsters and widows, and, sure, sometimes I’m tempted. .............. But they’re not like her; sweet and guileless, and somehow I think I would be disrespectful to Celeste’s memory if I took up with one of them. ....... I wish I would find out what I have left to do so I can get the hell out of here and see her again.
............ You ever been married?”
“I really don’t know. .......... I’m starting to get back some memories, but so far not one of that. Sounds like I missed something.”
“Ah, you’re still young enough to see everything worth seeing. Ain’t all that much. ........... Kids came along right away. Susan was the first; then Theresa, Patricia and Kathy.
Kathy was a little scamp, trying to get away with everything her older sisters were allowed. Wanted to grow up quick. We were always busy taking care of the kids and trying to make a living.
Grandma and I figured we’d get our time after we took care of them and then ..............” His voice broke and he took a huge swallow.
Harry wished he had something bright to say, opened his mouth, but no words came.
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Grandpa said; “That Becky is something. Reminds me of her Grandma. I think she keeps me going.”
“Becky’s got quite an imagination and has such a good heart.” Harry cut himself short, thinking it better not to recount her defense of the zapped saguaros.
Grandpa chugged his screwdriver, exhaled and said; “Yeah, you know when she was a little girl; about three years old, she insisted that she saw flying saucers landing out in the desert at dusk. As far as I knew, at that age she had never even heard of one, but ......................................”
Harry listened intently.
ELI, 5-19-98476. 5-19-2058 EARTH CALENDAR
On Eli many of the citizens were impatient for news of the mission. “Law” knew that he was the point man and still kept irrational hope for something positive he could communicate. He ducked press calls, saying his time was fully devoted to the project. The people sensed that something was terribly wrong and stepped up their civil insurrection to include the vandalizing of government buildings.
Military Director Marshall Ordnance literally had a fair haired boy for the second mission; Ares Jarrod, pale-skinned by Sunny standards, which is equivalent to an Earth northern
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Italian. Considered brilliant and brutal, he was Ordnance’s favorite for some time, as he loyally followed orders, improvising only where necessary, which always resulted in what Ordnance wanted; victory. He was trusted and to date deserved that, but this time he had his own agenda. Ares desired and thought he deserved to be a Director. At the age of 30, he thought he was positioned properly for his goal and here was the break he needed. If he could single-handedly pull off the mission, he would be a household name of the people. He didn’t see any play in going after Ordnance, but saw weakness in Titanby. After all, the first mission, the most important event for which the Galaxy Director was ever responsible had become a problem and was being rescued by a military man, out of Titanby’s jurisdiction. He felt that it was also necessary to be the lone hero. If by some chance Joshua was still alive, he would secretly have to correct the situation.
Ares first official act was to call a press conference.
When the group assembled, he stood proudly behind the podium, dwarfed by an abundance of Eli flags at his rear. He said;
“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” He forced a wide smile, which approximated the size of the seventeen medals and decorations pinned to the chest of his almost hidden, formal, green military jacket, the lapels of which resembled the wings of a phantom. “I called you here today, because Cronos Titanby
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is up to his neck handling the first Earth mission and the people have a right to know the facts. I will be piloting the second Earth mission, which is scheduled for June tenth, if we can’t get the rocket built before that.”
Newsmen started to speak in unison, and Ares held up his hand, saying; “I’ll be taking questions at the conclusion.
Having spent my career in the military, it was determined that I would be well suited to gather information concerning the Earth weaponry, defenses and weaknesses. This rocket will be equipped with three transmitters, so that we are better assured that we will be able to communicate this vital information. Though the sun is said to be scheduled to burn out in ten years, scientists have been wrong before and we consider this to be too important an issue to risk new, contrary information. We feel that time is of the essence, and rightly so, for the good people of Eli. I’m open to questions.”
As Ares anticipated the barrage of questions that would
“necessitate” him saying that Cronos and Foucalt ****** up, Ares was under duress not to be critical, but primarily interested in being “truthful,” of course. A reporter commenced the
“interrogation” with; “Isn’t that what Foucalt was supposed to be doing?”
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“Two minds are better than one and as I’ve mentioned, my military background will enable me to pinpoint military targets and priorities.”
Another reporter queried; “If you are better at gathering the necessary information, why weren’t you sent in the first place?”
“Joshua Foucalt has superior flying experience.”
A third reporter asked; “Was your mission part of the original plan, and if so, why were we not informed of that at the time?”
“That’s a very good question which involves some aspects of the military’s need for some secrecy. There are some parties out there who are sufficiently deranged to commit sabotage. Some details are held back.”
The third reporter followed up with; “Then are you saying this was part of the original plan?”
Ares grimaced externally and silently looked at the floor, while he broadly smiled internally, then responded; “I really don’t see the relevance of that point. There will be a second mission for many good reasons. I’m making you aware of that.
Whether or not this was part of the original game plan doesn’t matter. It’s part of it now and I’m openly communicating that to you.”
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A little man with a bulldog’s face asked; “Where is Foucalt and what has he communicated?”
“I’m a rookie at this and I can’t in good conscience dance anymore. The answers are that we are not sure and nothing.”
“Is his transmitter functional?”
“Yes. We have received messages and continue to. However we do not know who is sending them.”
“Is Foucalt alive?”
“We don’t know.”
“What do the messages say?”
“Nonsense. Gibberish.”
“Who is sending them?”
“It sounds like a little girl, an old man, and another man who might be Foucalt. Gentlemen, you now know as much as we do and any further questions can be answered as well by your own inferences as ours. We only see possibilities. That is why I’ll be going and maybe we can get this mess straightened out. Thank you.” Ares left the platform thinking; “PERFECT.”
Cronos saw the replay on the evening news and decided that two can play the same game. The next morning, 5-12, he held his own news conference during which he did not contradict Ares.
But, he made a point of saying that the second mission was indeed a part of the original plan, necessitated by the time
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required to construct another rocket. And, while he retained full confidence in Ares’ abilities, he pointed out that the young man was not a decision maker, and therefore not privy to some details. He tried to finesse the lack of meaningful communication issue by saying that there were sporadic technical problems with Foucalt’s transmitter which will be rectified when Ares gets there with three more. He said that in the meantime Foucalt was gathering data as expected. He knew he was winging it, but he concluded that at this point he didn’t have anything to lose. Joshua’s mission had to be viewed as a success, so he might as well say that it was on target with a minor glitch, as any other outcome jeopardized his position.
President Zeus Indiffant, State Director Seth Recreat, Military Director Marshall Ordnance, Finance Director Brigitte Chance, and Legal Director Prometheus Blaze had a phone conference. It was unanimously agreed that everyone involved in the project was either mentally challenged or obviously working in pursuit of their own interest at a time when the entirety of Eli was at stake.
While this was the expectation of any true Eli, it alarmed the powers that be that it should go on at this time. Wasn’t the end of the world something special? Brigitte displayed her heritage by retorting; “Well, if it’s going to end it’s going to end. Making hay on the process has no effect on the outcome. One
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needs to play the chess game thinking a few moves ahead. There’s nothing new. No surprises.”
Seth registered concern with the effect it could have on public opinion.
Marshall was secretly proud of his boy and thought he well understood Ares motivation. If he could get Cronos’ job he wouldn’t have to worry about him seeking the Military Directorship at some point. Thus far Ares’ execution was flawless. However he verbalized apologetic platitudes and asked the group to remember how young this man was.
Prometheus asked if anyone thought a crime had been committed, and got no reply.
Zeus was initially angered at the participants’ reactions, with the possible exception of the lead-nowhere remark of Seth.
He then pushed his controller’s neutral button and saw that their reactions were pure Eli logic. He said; “At this point I believe we are committed to both of them. Marshall, I want you to call Ares and tell him to cut the ****. No discussion, just cut the ****. I’ll be giving that same message to him and Cronos. Conference adjourned.” He hung up and Brigitte giggled.
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