And What of Earth

Chapter 6



Monday morning, Jennifer found Myka and several guards waiting for her at her usual exit point, and the small entourage escorted her to the clinic. To their credit, the guards at the barrier (after having been warned by Jennifer that several of the Wakira were going to pass through the barrier with her) reacted professionally, even saluting the alien commander and the others. Some of the soldiers broke off and joined the escort, marching in time with the Wakirans.

Bethy scarcely flinched when she saw Myka's face and got through the introductions looking friendly and pleased. As always, Myka was cordial and polite. General Comiston arrived a few minutes later, after Jennifer had given Myka a tour of the small underfunded clinic. Comiston saluted, then stuck out his hand. Myka placed his forearm against Comiston's and gently grasped the general's elbow. Comiston caught on immediately, and mimicked the gesture.

Bethy hung around for the pleasantries. During a lull in the conversation between the two, Jennifer mentioned to them that the people behind the barrier were probably running out of food. Comiston, seeing an opportunity, suggested that the US government could supply groceries to those households in a day or two. Enough to last them a couple of weeks. When Myka mentioned his concerns regarding security, Comiston offered to have the goods arrive at the barrier on pallets, so that each household's supplies would be put together in full view of the Wakira. After a little more haggling, an agreement was reached. The food and toiletries would be delivered to the barrier at 6:15 Wednesday evening -- so Jennifer could be present to help smooth over any difficulties. Moments later, Comiston gave everyone his regards and left.

"He seems very professional, Jennifer," Myka commented.

"I'm glad that the two of you got along. I was hoping that you would get a chance to meet -- though I thought that I was going to be giving the general a little warning first." They were silent for a moment. Jennifer then haltingly uttered, what seemed to Bethy, to be nonsense syllables.

Myka's eyes widened. "You are most welcome, Jennifer!"

"Did I say it right? I was rehearsing it all last night, after I got back home."

"Your accent is peculiar, but you were exactly right."

Jennifer blushed. "I asked one of the sentries how to say 'I thank you' when I left the ship for home last night. I was going to thank the sentry at the barrier with it. I'd really like to learn more in the days ahead."

"I will see if I can put together a small list of phrases sometime soon. I must go. It was a pleasure meeting you Elizabeth Bratten." Turning to Jennifer, he added, "I will see you after evening meal."

"I'll be there," Jennifer replied. With that, the aliens and the accompanying soldiers left the clinic and headed back to the barrier.

"Bethy, are you okay? You didn't growl at him for calling you Elizabeth."

She sighed. "I'm usually tolerant of first-timers who don't know any better." She scowled briefly. "I think I've been made, Jenn."

"Made?"

"The general. He recognized me. I treated him for leg shrapnel on my last tour. I'm sure he recognized me."

"Bethy, you mustered out, right? You didn't go AWOL when you got back last time, did you?"

The older woman rolled her eyes at Jennifer. "Of course I didn't go AWOL. But when I arrived back stateside, I gave them an address in Connecticut, instead of here. Just so I wouldn't get a call-up notice."

"Oh honey! Crap! What do you want us to do?"

Bethy smiled at her. "You do nothing. This falls on me. If anything happens, it falls on me." She grimaced. "I better let Rob know. And his mom in Connecticut." She and Jennifer exchanged hugs.

"I sure hope you won't end up in a stockade somewhere," Jennifer told her. "Who would Barb and I get to take your shifts?" she added with a grin.

Bethy playfully swatted her. "Bad girl!" she rebuked with a laugh. "I knew it was bad news when we hired a teenager."

Jennifer harumphed. "I'll have you know Nurse Bratten, that I'm about to turn 21. So there," followed by raspberries. "Hang in there, Bethy. Maybe there never was another call-up."

"That's what I'm counting on." Bethy walked over to the door and pulled it open. "I liked your new friend. Have a quiet shift."



Once again, General Comiston was on a scramble line direct to the White House, though this time, he was speaking with an expert that the President had brought on board.

"You must replace her," the voice on the other end told him stridently. "She is damaged. We cannot count on her being able to do the things we will need her to do. I have analyzed the reports from when she was in primary school, and in that college she attended. I was even fortunate enough to access her high school files from the school board computer network. She has been irreparably damaged. She is inherently unstable. She must be replaced immediately."

"Replaced? Doctor, do you have any clue what is going on here in Jewel? She is the one piece to this puzzle that cannot be replaced."

"I don't care how difficult it might be, General. I was asked to give the President my advice about the woman's condition and whether or not she'll be able to respond appropriately when the need arises. She will break, General. It's a coin toss as to whether she'll curl up into a ball and whimper, or explode. At the worst possible time. If they are as dangerous as everyone here seems to believe, then my professional opinion is that you get her out of there, and get someone far more stable -- more whole -- than this poor woman is."

Comiston was glad that the link was audio only, as he rolled his eyes at the person he considered to be nothing more than someone who played with lab rats. "You're not listening to me, Doctor. She cannot be replaced. It's not a matter of difficulty -- she cannot. The Wakira have accepted her. She has established a friendship with the mission commander. She is the only one who has unrestricted access -- both to the commander and to those of us outside the barrier. We can't just go to the Wakira and say 'Use this person instead of Jennifer Hodges'. The choice isn't ours to make."

"I am merely expressing my professional judgment, General. This woman will snap. She will shatter. And when she does, it will be spectacular. What good will that do us then, General? Get her out of there. Somehow. Before it's too late."

"You have no clue what's going on here, Doctor. You need to get briefed by someone there who does know." Comiston struggled to keep his anger in check. "Either do that, or go back to your ivory tower. I know her more than you ever will. At least I've met her and spent time in conversation with her. You have no clue."



Tuesday afternoon, the phone in a room of a cheap backroads motel rang. The man who called himself Dan Mitchell forced his heart to stop racing. He picked the handset up on the fourth ring. Pulling out the message pad that the motel provided, he scribbled down the directions he was given, then hung up.

He let out a huge sigh of relief. "I'm in!"



That evening, in Jewel, Jennifer found herself walking back to the barrier with her old schoolmate Rafe along with several boxes of frozen chicken breasts and two very large containers of coleslaw, courtesy the US Army. It had been suggested that a neighborhood barbecue for those living behind the barrier might get those who were still afraid to come out of their homes and to interact with their neighbors and with the Wakira. Myka saw this as an opportunity for his staff to acquire more data for the survey from the natives, and to put their minds at ease. He tasked David Stone to organize the food preparation. Stone in turn got three neighbors to volunteer their barbecues and cooking skills to make it all work. The cooking was to be done on the football field, and people were expected to sit and eat in the westside seats. It all went surprisingly well.

A daily routine quickly developed. Each morning, the sentry at the barrier would teach Jennifer a new phrase in Wakiran before she exited. General Comiston would eat lunch with her at the clinic, and Myka would arrive just before shift change to walk her back home. A limited number of others from behind the barrier started being allowed to leave unescorted a few days later.

This continued until the end of the month, at which time Jennifer noticed a change in the air. Something amongst the Wakira was wrong. Jennifer could sense a growing tension from the various sentries she would encounter. Myka, as well, seemed to be on edge. While he continued to carry himself well, she could see that his patience was wearing thin. After dancing around the issue with him, Jennifer backed off. Something was clearly wrong.

On the morning of the 31st, Jennifer decided to ask the sentry on her way out to work. "Greetings, honorable male," she said, in almost flawless Wakiran.

"Greetings, Jennifer Hodges. I hope your day will be pleasant." He repeated it in his language, and Jennifer repeated it until he seemed satisfied that she had it right.

"Honorable male," she said in English, "what is causing the tension I can sense from you and the others? Is there anything that I can do to help?"

"I thank you for your concern, Jennifer Hodges. We are getting restless. The survey should have concluded almost a nineday ago."

"I assume that the data you had before you arrived had to be discarded, because of the fiction your people encountered. It's only been 12 Terran days since the problem was discovered. Perhaps that's why the survey has gone on so long."

"I do not know," he told her, unconvinced. "It is most unusual. The mission commander has not informed us of the reason for the delay or when we will be leaving."

"He must have his reasons. The mission commander seems to me to be competent and efficient. I hope that the delay won't trouble you." She walked over to the barrier and looked back, saying the phrase that she had just learned. As usual, she pushed one hand through, then the other, then stuck her head out. "Hi boys. Coming through."



Mid-afternoon, Jennifer startled when the clinic phone rang. It was the first time someone had phoned the clinic during one of her shifts in almost a year. Hesitantly, she picked up the handset and answered it.

The voice at the other end told her that he was an interviewer for National Public Radio, and asked her if she had a few minutes to have a brief chat and to answer a few questions. Jennifer wished that she could say that she was too busy, but she had had no patients all day thus far. Reluctantly, she agreed.

The chat was pleasant. The interviewer made it feel as if they were simply shooting the breeze -- the questions were posed in a way that made it seem that Jennifer wasn't actually answering questions after all. They talked about the Wakira, the mission commander, life behind the barrier, and what life was like in the town. This led to Jennifer telling the interviewer (and the rest of the country) that the residents of Jewel had been forgotten by the county and the state governments. That unemployment was almost 90%. Which in turn led Jennifer to disclose that the county hadn't paid the staffers at the clinic in over two months. When the interviewer asked Jennifer why the three of them hadn't walked away from their jobs, he was flabbergasted by her response. "Where else would people go if they needed medical attention?"



Late into her shift on August 1st, Jennifer noticed dark clouds beginning to build out to the west in the hills. When Barb arrived for shift change, she commented on how the winds had picked up, and had started shifting direction every few minutes. She waited a few minutes to see if Myka would show up, then abandoned that notion. "Better batten down the hatches, Barb," Jennifer quipped after wishing her a great night.

She walked to just past Amethyst and looked out to the west. "Squall line," she told herself. "Moving north northeast, it looks. Hmmmm."

She resumed her walk back to the barrier. The sight of the large disc-shaped ship over the treetops to the southeast was no longer disconcerting. "Strange how perceptions change so quickly," she said aloud. She took her eyes off the ship and the black curtain that emanated from it, and looked southward down Main. The squall line extended as far as the eye could see. Cloud tops were continuing to build. To the southwest, she thought she saw a flash of lightning off in the distance. "The Wakira aren't going to like this," she said.

She stopped and presented herself at the army checkpoint. "Storm coming," she commented. "You guys have shelter? I thought I saw lightning in the distance."

"We'll be okay, Ms. Hodges. They said they'd send over a bus of some kind for when the storm hits. Figure it'll be a big one?"

"Nah. Should be impressive for the aliens though. Stay safe guys. Don't take shelter under the trees." She walked up to the barrier. "Greetings, males," she said in their language. "I'm ready to pass through the barrier." A hand reached out, gently grasped hers and pulled her through. "I thank you," she told the sentry.

Instead of walking to Thorn and heading directly home, she hesitated. The sentry noticed the change in her usual custom. "Is there something wrong, Jennifer Hodges?"

She chewed her lower lip for a moment. "I think that you need to advise the Wakira, and the ship overhead, that a storm is approaching. It will probably bring heavy rain, winds that might gust up to one-tenth the speed of sound, and electrical discharges."

He blinked twice. "Electrical discharges?"

She raised her left hand and swivelled it, to indicate the affirmative. "The discharges are known as lightning. They also produce a loud noise, like an explosion, which we call thunder. I remember the mission commander telling me that weather on most of the planets in the Empire is fairly calm and uneventful. I wanted to make sure that the Wakira were not caught by surprise when the storm arrives. My guess," she turned and looked westward along Emerald, "is that it will arrive in about an hour or so. About one-twentieth of a Terran day. If your people have not experienced this type of weather, it will be very disturbing to you. I must go and prepare evening meal for my father." She turned and continued on her way, imitating the Wakira in not giving any farewells and leaving abruptly.

She was back onto the football field after supper when the storm struck. The aliens were bothered by the flashes of lightning and the rumbles of thunder, but tried to carry on as if it wasn't happening. Jennifer spent the evening mingling with them, and assuaging their fears.



The man they knew as Dan Mitchell slouched in his chair and pulled his ballcap down as soon as the newcomer entered the meeting room. What the hell is he doing here? he thought. I'm not supposed to have any backup!

The man in the colonel's uniform spoke expansively on how necessary it was for mankind to re-assert its authority over this planet, and in particular, the small town of Jewel Nebraska. While his eyes scanned the room, they frequently rested on Mitchell. He tried hard to not squirm under that gaze. He's recognized me, Mitchell thought to himself, suddenly terrified. I need to get out of here and let my handler know.

The guest speaker ended his talk, and it was agreed that there would be a fifteen minute break. Mitchell told the guy beside him that he was going to step outside for a smoke. He slowly stood, and tried very hard to not hurry to the back door. He hoped that the newcomer would be too busy answering the questions of the other conspirators to notice him leave the building. Down the rickety wooden stairs to the main level. He paused and noticed that, thankfully, there were no footsteps following him. He weaved his way through the shelving units that held the construction supplies that the warehouse stored. Only 20 more seconds and he'd be out the building and able to start running.

The emergency exit door was less than 100 feet to his right. Before he could turn to finish his escape, he heard a voice call his name. His real name. Without thinking, he started to turn to face whoever called out. Damn! he thought. I've blown my own cover! He reversed his turn and started running to the exit. Three bullets hit him in the back. He fell to the floor, inches from the exit. I have to let them know, he thought, as he tried to raise himself up to push on the handle. Another two shots into the back of his head ended that effort.



Late the next evening, Myka was standing in the ship watching Jennifer interact with several Wakira on a video display as they cleaned up after another neighborhood barbecue. He didn't notice the footsteps behind him.

"They seem to like her." The person stopped just behind his left shoulder.

"They all like her," he said. "Are you supposed to be out?"

The voice behind him chittered. "I exited cycle one and a half Terran days ago. You males are safe from me, for now." They both watched the images on the viewscreen for a few moments. "When will you tell her?"

Myka said nothing, trying hard to ignore the question.

"Mission Commander, if you truly consider the barbarian female to be your friend, you must tell her."

"She is my friend. Despite my efforts to prevent any sort of attachment to the Terrans, I have become fond of Jennifer. And she is not a barbarian. Her species is immature, but is so much younger than our own. And do not presuppose, Tactician, that you have the right to tell me what I must and must not do."

"I meant no challenge, Commander. But I say to you again, if she is indeed your friend, she deserves to know."

Again, he remained silent.

"They have failed the survey, Commander. The survey directive must be carried out."

He turned sharply, and looked up at her with anger in his eyes. "Again, female, I remind you of my rank. You have no right to tell me what I must and must not do. You are not my mate! And I remind you also, that only the Mission Commander can decide whether a species has passed or failed a survey. No one else. Certainly not someone working as an assistant." He turned back to watch Jennifer seem to play with the Wakiran males. "I am sorry, Tactician. I know of your marks. I have read the reports of your skills. You are and should be much more than just an assistant."

"I have taken no offense, Commander. I was pleased when I learned that I would have the opportunity to serve under you on this mission. I just wish I hadn't gone into cycle on the voyage here."

"Our Father spoke highly of you, when he added you to my crew list. Had you been male, I'm sure you would be serving in orbit in a tactical position, instead of being used to analyze and decipher the cacophony that is Terran culture."

"I thank you," she said, still wishing to press the original issue. "Do you wish that I tell her?"

"No. I am working hard to avoid having to carry out the directive." He turned to face her again. "Tactician, because of errors -- completely understandable ones -- made by you and the other analysts, I was required to give Jennifer a formal apology in the name of the Emperor. I told her of the requirement to offer compensation for the reckless dishonor we had done to her. Do you know what she asked for? Did she ask that I abase myself, or humiliate myself in front of the rest of the mission staff? No. Did she ask for wealth, or power, or prestige? No. She asked that if we were to judge them -- yes they already suspect -- that we judge them on what they will be when they achieve level 5 and voyage to the stars, not on what they are like right now. That is one of the most noble things I have ever experienced. I certainly didn't expect it from a 'barbarian'. And so, I am obligated to do that very thing. The Empire is obligated to do that very thing. So, honorable female, they have not failed the survey."

"You cannot judge a species based solely on one specimen."

"I can choose what the sample size should be. Even in this settlement, I have found others much like her -- honest, helpful, honorable. Contrast this with certain unidentified members of my own staff. Members who took an oath of fealty before we left Homeworld on this mission, and yet have dishonored me by sending raw data back to the palace, and, as a further insult, sending parts of my private personal log to the palace as well. Female, if you had to judge the two species, based on those two samples, which would you say was the one that had failed the survey?"

She said nothing.

"I do not see how this mission can get any worse. To have my own staff betray me while I struggle to carry out this mission with the highest regard to the purpose behind it. Even Jennifer has noticed that something is wrong, with me and with the males she has encountered."

She closed her eyes. Hesitantly, she said "Mission Commander, I regret to inform you that the mission is about to get worse. And it is this information that has caused me to urge you to tell the female what will happen."

Myka stiffened. "What information?"

"I have received a coded message from -- a male who will remain unidentified. This individual is an officer in the Home Fleet. The message, in code, was 'Flanking Manoeuver has boarded unnamed LC and is heading for 314'. That is this sector, Commander. Here. Terra."

"Father? Father is coming here?! Oh Provider no!"

"We should expect a light cruiser to arrive from Homeworld in about 13 or 14 Terran days. If you care about her, Mission Commander, you must tell her."

Myka sagged and leaned against a nearby bulkhead. "You are sure it gave Father's coded identification."

"It said Flanking Manoeuver. I assume that that is your father. Since he was an infantry officer."

"Oh Provider no," he said again.

"You must tell her, Commander. Within a nineday. You know what will happen when he arrives. He will relieve you, take command, and order the directive be carried out."

Myka's expression was pained.

"In two Terran weeks, this planet and everyone on it will be destroyed."