Chapter Four
"Don't Touch Him!"
After they were done eating, the General leaned back in his
seat. "I'm going to have a chat with my friends, boys, make
sure I'm not disturbed."
Yes, sir!" both officers snapped.
They backed off as the General appeared to go to sleep. Donald
turned to his companion. "How do you know all that
stuff?" he asked. "About him, I mean?"
"We've got a file," the Lieutenant answered,
"about THIS thick." He indicated about a foot's
distance with his hands. "When they made me part of the
suppression unit, as we call ourselves, I read it. A lot of it's
theory, experts in the field giving their opinions. But I think
it's pretty accurate. His powers are weaker during the day,
stronger at night, or under cloud cover. The sunlight effects
them somehow. He gets his power from love. He can't hurt anyone
unless they're evil. It's a safety. Some people are damned glad
he has it"
Donald laughed. "Give me a break!" he said. "A man
can kill because he's empowered with love. I've heard he can be
really nasty." The Lieutenant sat up and looked at him with
total sincerity. "I'll give you one warning," he
replied, "and you'd better listen. Take that man seriously.
When he tells you to do something, do it. Don't ever doubt his
capabilities. He'll tell you he has no compassion or pity for
evil. But don't believe it. He often destroys to keep people from
hurting themselves any more than they already have, sometimes
killing them saves them.
My grandmother was into this stuff. Maybe that's why I understand
it so well.
There's things in the universe far beyond our understanding. We
think we're pretty bright, that we've got a lot of power. We
don't understand what power is- HE does. I think the suppression
unit is foolish. We should be helping him, not hindering him, but
our damned politicians are stupid. They're afraid of losing
power, so they're trying to delay the inevitable."
"Would you mind telling me," Donald asked, "what
the suppression unit is?"
"A joint task force of the bureau and the agency. Our job is
to keep any mention of him out of the media, to cover up his
activities, and to keep his organization from beginning as long
as possible."
"If he's so powerful," Donald asked, "why does he
let you get away with it?"
"I'm not sure," the Lieutenant answered, "at
present he may even find it helpful, but I think the main reason
is he considers us a joke. Our petty efforts AMUSE him, and our
frustration, even more so. How can you fight an immortal? Even if
you lock him up somewhere he can leave his body and go to and fro
at will. The same thing if you drug him. Threaten him, and he
only gets mad. And God help the country if we ever make him mad!
Kill him, and he just switches bodies and you'd never know who he
was, or, what he was doing. The safest damned thing is to just
leave him be, and keep the situation under control as best as
possible."
"Why isn't he someone more important?" Donald asked.
"He's what he WANTS to be," the Lieutenant told him.
"When the time is right he'll take more important positions.
Right now obscurity suits him."
Donald looked back to the sleeping man with a small bit of awe.
"What IS he, exactly?" he asked.
"An alien Soul," the Lieutenant told him. "His
people fought a great war and nearly annihilated each other. The
last survivors made colonies here on Earth. But they couldn't
keep the peace and wiped each other out.
Now their Souls are trapped on a world where they don't belong,
and seriously interfering with the stability of the native race.
If they're unable to undo what they've done the chances of the
human race surviving aren't much."
Donald knew the Lieutenant was sincere, but he found all this
very hard to believe. He looked up to see the Sergeant coming
down the aisle. He reached out for the General and the Lieutenant
suddenly screamed.
"Don't touch him!" The Sergeant snapped back.
"Sorry, sir!" he said, "I just wanted to inform
the General we'd found the hunting party. They're evacuating them
now."
"I'll tell him when he wakes," the Lieutenant answered.
The Sergeant returned to the front of the plane. The Lieutenant
returned to his seat and let out a deep sigh. "What was THAT
all about?" Donald asked.
"Don't ever touch him when he's sleeping, when he might be
traveling. His wife can get away with it. She's protected. But if
you broke the cycle and suddenly drew him back into his body he'd
suck the life energy out of you like a sponge sucks up water. I'm
not joking. It can kill you."
"I believe you!" Donald told him. "I believe
you!"
A few minutes later the General stirred, grabbed some paper, and
began making some sketches. The Lieutenant came down and leaned
over towards him. "We've found the hunting party, sir.
Evacuation proceeding."
"Good work!" the General acknowledged. "How long
before we land, Lieutenant?"
The Sergeant stuck his head in the door. "Twenty five
minutes, sir! Your helicopter will be ready when we land. It's a
little under an hour to the site."
"Thank you, Sergeant. My compliments to the pilot! We've
made good time."
The General returned to his sketches. "Did you get that
information from your friends, sir?" the Lieutenant asked.
The General only nodded. Donald took the seat behind the General
and began to examine the sketches over his shoulder. "Pretty
straight forward layout, isn't it?" he asked.
"Small compact ship," the General told him.
"Propulsion units run along the bottom. The main part of the
ship is the cargo bay., entered from this big hatch in the rear
and this small one in the back of the crew quarters.
The control room is just ahead of the crew quarters. Everything's
connected by this corridor that runs up the side. What we'll be
after is the main computer....here, on the front wall of the crew
quarters, behind the control room. If that's still functional it
can tell us what's wrong with the ship, help us make repairs, and
get out. That's going to be the tricky part......getting out. It
all depends if the sterilization units in the hatchway are still
working. If they're not, well, we won't think about that until
the time comes."
The General began to pack up his notes. "Sir," Donald
asked. "Why won't the aliens....why won't your friends help
us?"
"Well, for the first reason," the General told him,
"their law won't permit it. No contact whatever with
primitive races until they have developed space travel and solved
their own internal problems. Some of them would literally die
before breaking that law.
Secondly, they can't do much more than I'm doing this far into
the situation. It's too dangerous to try to pick up the ship with
tractor beams, or something like that."
"But they helped during the war...." the Lieutenant put
in.
"Only because some of their own people were
interfering," the General answered him. "And they only
did enough to neutralize that interference, no more. They
returned things to the status quo. If they could've gotten the
ship before anyone had found it they'd have certainly made a
pickup, even risking their own lives to get it out of here. But
now our government's involved they can't do anything except
through me. I'm not a government. I already know of their
existence, therefore they're willing to lend me technical
assistance, but very little beyond that."
"I think I see," Donald acknowledged. "It must be
an awful thing, sir, to know all this stuff and not be able to
tell anybody; and, if you did, not have anybody believe
you."
"It DOES make things kind of lonely sometimes," the
General answered. "It's a little like your job, Donald,
going under cover....making friends with people, even getting to
like them, then, in the end, having to arrest them. EVERY job has
its disadvantages. For EVERYTHING there's a price. I don't think
I could DO your job. But praise The Lords there's men like you
with the strength to do the unpleasant but the necessary."
"I think I've just been paid a compliment, sir," Donald
replied, "that I'll rather cherish, and I think you've
helped me deal with a part of my life that's been kind of a
burden. Thank you, sir! Thank you very much!"
"You're quite welcome, Donald," the General responded.
"You're quite welcome, indeed!"