Judgment Day (48 page)

CHAPTER 100 PRESIDENTS CROW

—
HERZOG
, SAUL BELLOW

I
n October of the election year, Senator Crow was seven points behind in the presidential polls. Crow had trailed his opponent by between five and nine points since being nominated at the Democratic convention and nothing his consultants and media specialists could devise closed the gap. Then Crow's opponent caught "IT" and became the last victim of the Ebola variant. The Republican Party spent heavily, asking voters to vote for the dead man, thus making his running mate president, but to no avail. Crow won forty-seven percent to forty-five percent. Rachel Waters became chief of staff, Simon Ash her assistant. Crow's running mate, Carson Wheeler, governor of California, did his job and delivered California, and then Crow reneged on his pre-election promise to share power, assigning Wheeler the usual vice presidential functions of fund-raising and attending state funerals.

There were five balls on inauguration day, Crow attending them all, Congresswoman Sylvia Swanson at his side. With a bachelor president the media had a field day speculating on his sex life, the opposition spreading rumors that he and Rachel Waters were lovers. Gay activists countered by outing Rachel, revealing her relationship with Meaghan Slater, director of the National Womyn's Congress. Crow knew Rachel's sexual tastes were eclectic, but letting the public think she was exclusively lesbian ended the rumors he was having an affair with her. After the revelations about Rachel, speculation about his love life continued unabated, with every single woman who visited the White House named as a possible first mistress. The image of Crow as a playboy president caught the fancy of the public, and Crow's approval ratings began to climb as those who had voted for a dead man instead of Crow were slowly won over.

The first months of his administration were spent appointing his people to key positions, many of whom had shared blood rituals with him. Once Crow had settled into the White House, Fry came calling.

Crow met Fry in the Oval Office, sun shining through the window behind him, roses in the garden below in bloom. Fry was full of himself, feeling powerful, feeling like he controlled Crow. Hating the man he was partnered with, the new president was impatient to find out what he wanted and get rid of him.

"Mr. President," Fry said mockingly, "how does it feel to be the most powerful man in the world?"

"It feels like it was meant to be," Crow said evenly.

"Don't let it go to your head, Crow. You're here because I wanted you here."

"You overestimate your contribution, Mr. Fry."

"Your opponent didn't get IT by accident," Fry said.

"There are other ways for a man to die," Crow said.

"And who would arrange that? You? Rachel?"

Eyes fixed and cold, Crow stared at Fry, wondering if it was time to send him to the Master.

"When are you going to give up on Thorpe?" Crow asked. "I've got all the resources of NASA and the Defense Department at my command now."

Plopping in a chair, Fry put his feet up on Crow's desk. "Thorpe's got that sphere flying."

Crow masked his surprise.

"Floating?"

"Flying! He can maneuver it."

"Why haven't you used it? You could have taken their space station when one of the Ark-class ships was docked. That former Soviet sub,
Crucifixion
, would have made a great prize."

"It'll be back. They're making regular runs to that planet of theirs. Besides, the more runs they make, the fewer members they have left on

Earth. Where would you prefer to deal with that cult? Here, or deep in space where there are no witnesses? Besides, one sphere won't carry enough men to take the space station and the ships."

"What choice do you have?"

"A lot more than I did when you were just a senator."

Fry took his feet down, then leaned on the desk, looking Crow in the eye.

"The military is still flying shuttles. You will turn one over to the CIA—my CIA. Then we're going to mount the sphere inside, load it with as many men as it can carry, and launch it. Once in orbit, the sphere can take the shuttle to their space station. The cult will never know what hit them."

Crow couldn't help but smile in admiration. He liked the plan. Pleased with himself, Fry put his feet back on Crow's desk. Crow took two Cuban cigars from his desk drawer, tossing one to Fry. He lit up, then leaned back in his chair, putting his own feet up. Dreaming of the power they would have with the cult's technology and the presidency, they puffed their cigars in silence.

CHAPTER 101 RETURN FROM AMERICA

Love generates power, but power without love can only destroy.

—MARK SHEPHERD

O
n the voyage from Earth to America,
Covenant had
been a crowded, noisy, busy vessel. The recycled air a thick mix of smells, the charcoal scrubbers never able to get it all. In every corridor, in every compartment, there was life and that meant noise, movement, and emotion. One birth had occurred on the voyage and six deaths, the
Covenant
arriving with fewer lives than it had left with. For a people commanded to be fruitful and multiply it seemed a poor beginning, but sixty-three women were pregnant when they arrived. Even in the cramped overcrowded spaces of the
Covenant
, love found a way. There were six marriages during the voyage, shared throughout the ship over the speakers. There were fights too, minor conflicts, water shortages, breakdowns, nightmares, claustrophobia, disease, and a host of other problems that are part and parcel of being human.

It was early spring in the northern hemisphere of planet America when
Covenant
arrived. New growth was everywhere, the grays and browns of winter sprinkled with the bright greens of new leaves and swelling buds. Escaping the confines of
Covenant
for the open spaces and clean air of America added to their joy at arrival, and they took the hardships of living in the open in good spirit. It took weeks to shuttle everyone down, the weather steadily improving, and on the day the last of the settlers landed the sun shone, the grass was lush, the meadow a riot of flowers in color combinations no one had ever seen. The community worshiped that day, building an altar in the meadow and decorating it with alien blooms. Then three thousand thankful people bowed their heads, thanking God for bringing them to this promised land.

Covenant
left a month later for Earth and seventeen months after that it returned with another full complement. It was winter on America now and the new arrivals were met with a cold persistent drizzle and gray skies. The climate was mild, but everyone was permanently wet and damp; the only alternatives to the rain were the overcrowded dormitories, most of which leaked.

Covenant's
third arrival came in the fall, just as the last of the harvest was being gathered. There had been much building in the two and a half years since the first arrivals and there was a town now with a church that doubled as a school, weather-tight housing, and dormitories waiting for the new arrivals. They celebrated Thanksgiving once all the new arrivals were down. With
no
dining facility to hold them all, community gatherings could only be held outdoors. The weather cooperated and they gathered around long wooden tables, new arrivals mixed with the seasoned to help them identify the foods they were eating.

To everyone's surprise, the
Crucifixion
arrived six weeks after
Covenant
left. The converted former Soviet sub was a monster ship carrying four thousand tightly packed people. Improvements in her drive allowed her to make the transit in five months, but conditions in the ship were nearly unbearable. The situation on Earth made it necessary to move as many people as possible and they endured the conditions to seek a better life for their children. The early arrival of
Crucifixion
taxed their resources and every building became housing, every blanket used, and food rationed.

Crucifixion's
crew brought detailed reports to Mark of what was taking place on Earth and it was clear he needed to return. When Floyd offered to return with him, Mark accepted, but turned down Ira since he had a two-year-old son to raise. The day of departure, the community came together to say good-bye, feasting and worshiping. After the service Mark and Floyd shook as many hands as they could, then took a shuttle up to
Crucifixion
.

Hard
work was a way of life on America. Up at dawn, work until dusk, in bed a few hours later to sleep deeper than anyone had on Earth. In contrast, on
Crucifixion
there was little to do. The computer flew the ship and the crew performed maintenance. To keep busy, Mark wandered through the great ship, cleaning, picking up, polishing, finding a nearly empty
Crucifixion
eerie. Floyd helped, working the lower deck. When each compartment had been policed they hauled the bins to the forward cargo compartment for disposal when they reached Earth. Then it was time to sweep and mop.

Mark found the simple labor refreshing. No decisions had to be made, no conflicts resolved. Free of the anxiety of being in charge, he found his mind sharper than it had been for years. Scripture touched him more deeply, he centered more easily during prayer, and his worship was more fulfilling. Acoustically, the empty corridors were perfect for hymn singing and he swept and mopped in rhythm with the songs that poured from his heart. Immersed in people's lives for two decades, the time alone on
Crucifixion
was a sabbatical, a time of renewal, and he relished it. It was no surprise then that when the
Crucifixion
docked with New Hope station Mark was disappointed.

Sally Roper and Stephen O'Malley were anxious to shift their loads to Mark, and he and Floyd were in a meeting within three hours of docking.

"How is the cash flow, Sally?" Mark asked. "Floyd brought another long shopping list with him."

"We've lost twenty-two percent of the revenue from our communications division. The military and government have been launching their own satellites. They're subsidizing costs to compete with us. We keep matching their price, but we're losing significant amounts of our business."

"What about the asteroid search?" Mark asked.

"We located four additional asteroids with significant gold content and sold them to the Russians. The smallest netted three hundred million, the largest five hundred."

"How have the films done?"

Now Stephen and Sally looked uncomfortable.

"The first film earned three hundred million domestically and we almost doubled that worldwide," Sally said. "The second did nearly as well, but
Alien Predators
exceeded all the others. It's still running in some theaters and the DVD will hit the stores in a couple of weeks. Our licensing agreements have generated revenue nearly equal to the box office receipts. Stuffed animals have done well, lunch boxes, T-shirts, toys—we're in Happy Meals this month. We're negotiating a cartoon series."

"We have more carnivore footage, so we can get
Alien Predators Two
into theaters when
Settling Down
runs its course," Floyd said.

"Settling Down
hasn't done as well as we'd hoped," Sally said.

"Too domestic? I wondered about that," Floyd said.

"No, it's not that. Terrorists firebombed one of our theaters," Sally said.

"Four hundred people were killed."

"What? Why?" Mark stammered.

"Six groups claimed responsibility. Some were anti-Christian, some environmental radicals," Stephen said. "After the firebombing there were two extortion attempts. They threatened to burn more of our theaters unless we paid them off. One wanted ten million, the other one hundred million. I turned both over to the FBI."

"Since then we've had two more firebombing attempts," Sally continued. "The police say they were copycat crimes and not well planned. One set a fire in a rest room, another threw a jar of gasoline on the screen. Neither did much damage. We increased security but the crowds haven't come back. To compensate we're going to shorten the theater runs so we can get to pay-per-view and digital sooner."

"Twenty lawsuits have been filed against us representing six hundred claimants—more than died in the theater," Stephen said. "There's over ten billion dollars in claims."

"But we're not responsible," Mark argued vainly.

"Their lawyers claim we were negligent in not providing adequate security and for not having a sprinkler system in the theater. Survivors and family members have been all over the morning news shows. The networks are exploiting the tragedy to the fullest."

"What about our insurance?"

"It won't cover ten billion dollars. Premiums have been quintupled and we've had to limit our showings to theaters with sprinkler systems."

Mark considered ending the film business, but their enemies would just come after the Fellowship in some other way.

"How are negotiations with the Russians coming?"

"They aren't as anxious to sell us another submarine as we thought they would be," Sally said. "We took possession of one of their submarine hulls six months ago, but since then they haven't responded to our inquiries. I have information that our government is negotiating to buy their mothballed subs out from under us."

"Cancel negotiations," Mark said. "Complete the conversion of the third submarine but then all available revenue goes to moving our people to planet America. We can get by without a fourth Ark ship for now."

"We could section New Hope and move it to America," Stephen suggested.

"That will cut expenses, Mark," Sally said. "What about increasing revenues?"

"Show them, Floyd."

Floyd pulled a leather pouch from his pocket, untied the top, and poured out a pile of raw uncut diamonds.

"We dropped Dieter Brock and his sons off on one of the southern continents," Floyd said. "Six months later they found a rich deposit. He says diamond mining hasn't been this easy since South Africa at the turn of the century. You scuff your feet, then just pick them up."

Avarice in her eyes, Sally poured the diamonds from one hand to the other. "How much did you bring back?" she asked.

"Dieter estimated we have about one hundred million in quality stones. If there's snob appeal in alien gems we might get much more."

Sally scribbled furiously on a yellow pad, then paused.

"This will help," Sally said, fingering the stones again, "but we'll have to limit how much we import. I'll make the necessary connections and find out how many we can sell a year and not drive prices down."

"We have another potential source of revenue," Mark said.

Now Floyd pulled a leather wallet from his pocket and revealed a dozen small glass vials. Floyd removed one filled with a yellowish liquid. Pulling the small cork he held it out for Sally to smell. Cautiously, she sniffed the vial.

"Mmmmm. Smells wonderful."

Passing it to Stephen, Floyd said, "We extracted it from a flower growing around the lakes near our settlement. We think there might be a market for planet America perfumes."

Stephen looked skeptical but Sally jumped on the idea.

"Have you seen what women pay for a half an ounce of perfume? Perfumes have snob value too. No woman wants to wear the same scent as others. What would a woman pay to wear a scent no woman on Earth has worn?"

"There's a dozen different scents here," Mark said.

"I'll file patents on the scents but we may run into Law of the Sea conflicts—other countries may not recognize our claim to discoveries we bring from America," Stephen said. Wrinkling his nose at a new vial he said, "Very unique."

"It doesn't matter," Mark said. "We'll demand the lion's share of payments up front and when the knockoffs hit the market we'll introduce new scents—we have a planet full of them."

"There's a ban on alien organic material," Stephen said. "Most Western nations have been pressured by our government to go along."

"We'll sell it where we can and duplicate the chemistry where we can't sell genuine planet America perfumes."

Stephen and Sally nodded appreciatively. Mark sensed his presence lifted their burden and his optimism and quick solutions energized them. Was it immodest of him to feel pride in God's gift of leadership ability?

"There are other problems, Mark," Stephen said. "There are warrants for you, Micah, and others because of the deaths at Christ's Home. Six wrongful death suits have been filed by the families of the men who died, and we're enjoined from selling our properties there. Other assets have been attached. We've been lifting our people out of Mexico but it's getting harder to get them out of the United States. They are enforcing the National Restitution Act. Anyone wanting to emigrate must pay up to two hundred thousand dollars to reimburse the government for services provided. When they can identify which of our people have gone to planet America they seize whatever property they can locate. Fortunately, our people own almost nothing of value,- it all belongs to the Fellowship. They can't touch a church—not yet, anyway."

"God will get us through this, Stephen—somehow," Mark said, but wondered how much more tragedy lay before them.

Moving into prayer they turned their burdens over to the Lord, relief spreading through each of them, renewing them for when they would again pick up their loads. After an hour Mark closed the meeting.

"Christy wants to see you, Mark," Stephen said. "She began calling when
Crucifixion's
return hit the news."

He thanked Stephen for the message, then hurried off to place a call. The others smiled knowingly as he left.

"I missed you, Christy."

She smiled, but didn't share her feelings.

"How is life on another world?"

"It's a good life. The air is clean, the soil rich, the forests full of wildlife. Everywhere you turn is a new experience. There are plenty of challenges, Christy. You'd be welcome there."

"Would I? I'm not a fundamentalist and I never could be."

Mark had always been unsure about Christy's relationship with God. She never talked of being born again or having Jesus in her heart. When he was honest with himself, he knew his feelings for her closed his eyes to questions he should ask.