Chapter 9

War Cartoons

President Bushleeg was in the most foul mood any one had seen in a long time; he'd missed his morning war cartoons. As far as he was concerned missing cartoons was becoming far too regular of late. The President was not very pleasant to be around even at his best. Making matters worse, he was trapped in a three way telephone conversation with that "awful" rebel, Admiral Castro, and a "creepy" alien, who had just informed him his spaceship was an impregnable fortress. The alien captain had referred to his spaceship as a "battle platform."

The president covered his phone with one hand and turned to his military chief. "Send ten atomic warhead missiles at that alien and blow him and his silly ship to smithereens." No one had ever told a Bushleeg president from either political party what to do, he was determined not to be the first.

"Yes sir," said the top general on duty. He turned to his immediate right and repeated the presidential order to an operating field command general, who turned to his right and passed it on to the officer in charge. There was quite a long chain of command squeezed into the president's military situation room and the number of atomic bomb loaded missiles increased to fifty by the time the order reached the last officer in line.

"Not fifty!" President Bushleeg gritted his teeth in exasperation. "Make it twenty if you numbskulls really think you need them. Those things don't grow on trees, y'know," he grumbled turning back to the telephone.

"Look, er... Admiral, and, er... Captain, this call was unscheduled... um, I've missed my, er... morning briefings. We'll need to, um, talk later," he said, with feigned distraction. Good-by."

The Admiral wasn't fooled for a second. "Prepare for an attack," he said over the fighter's radio. "It will be a serious probe of our defenses, with the goal of wiping us out."

The United States of Earth was gearing up to test its military muscle against an alien invader. President Bushleeg had declared a national emergency the instant he hung up the phone, with the stroke of a pen he had become a full corporatist dictator.

Liz had been listening closely to the Admiral's conversation, she started up her spaceship the instant she heard President Bushleeg's lame excuse for hanging up the phone.

"Fly to five thousand kilometers," the Admiral said as he quickly stepped to the door. "Patrol for missiles aimed at the delfinian ship. Keep well away from the upper battle zone lest you be mistaken for an attacking missile and vaporized. In other words, don't go after any missiles you miss." He stopped at the door and cast a warm smile to Liz. "Good hunting," were his parting words as he strode from the take-off zone to his next stop, he was heading to the beach to find Pito. He wanted to ride out to the submarine, hopefully, he could convince Commander Grey to hold tight until events had a chance to unfold.

Native american braves were at that moment trapped in an "S" shaped bend in a deep desert gorge. They had become aware of Sequoia and Eddy's next stop when they heard the double boom of the arriving frigate and cruiser. The two spaceships arrived side-by-side. They immediately cut back in opposite directions from each other and then went straight up, directly above the assembled armada of HUNTA. The ships were too high to be seen before the thundering echoes of there passage had rolled into the distant desert horizons.

Eddy and Sequoia were both coasting backwards toward five thousand kilometers from Earth's surface, the crews on each ship watched the earth rapidly grow smaller. In the view from their front windows they could see the bright line of dawn marking HUNTA's location, and the dark line of night far out in the pacific, near Earth Base One.

The Native Americans had ambushed HUNTA when the lumbering convoy of nuclear canons had started moving for the day, toward Nation Pacifica. Each brave carried a pack holding two hundred exploding bolos plus spare batteries for the radio controlled detonators which shattered the spring launched saucer to let loose its whirling cable bolo.

Many hurtling bolos slammed harmlessly into the gargantuan bodies of the huge bulldozer-style machines. Some became entangled in the machine's clattering tracks and snapped, this was extremely disappointing for the brave who watched his or her cable disappear into the tracks, which were the target. The few cables which didn't snap soon became a nightmare for HUNTA. Howling axel bearings announced cable bolos which had found their mark and brought another lumbering nuclear canon to a screeching halt.

HUNTA helicopters swarmed like bees guarding their hive's honey. The choppers searched for the retreating braves, and found them, just as the braves dashed over a deep canyon's edge. The braves reloaded their saucer flingers, crouched down behind the canyon lip, and bravely held their ground. When the helicopters were within range they stood and flung the bolos into the midst of the helicopters. Eighteen helicopters fell from the sky and exploded in flames as the braves fled pell mell to the bottom of the gorge, their only injuries were a few cuts and bruises.

Even though the troops of Helpful Unified Nuclear Tactical Advantage had succeeded in blocking both ends of the S curve, the bolos had proven to be a terrible weapon against foot soldiers at close range. The braves were temporarily safe. Helicopters couldn't fly down from above without coming in range of the whirling bolo cables and HUNTA troops were warily hiding, still, the situation was ominous. The only reason HUNTA troops had not slid bombs over the canyon edge and onto the native americans was General Slashburn wanted prisoners for questioning.

"Do you see all those helicopters piled up around the canyon edge?" Eddy asked Sequoia over the radio.

"We're looking at the sensor replay now," Sequoia answered. "Diana and I figure the braves are hiding down at the bottom of the gorge."

"No doubt about it," Glafco answered swiftly from the frigate.

"I'm going back," said Eddy as he lightly tapped the ship joy power and blasted toward the HUNTA forces. He fired his joy beam canon next to one of the idled machines and melted a hole large enough on one side of the machine for a person to crawl through. The HUNTA crew inside opened the hatch, climbed out, and scattered running full speed.

Eddy's next blast melted the ground on the other side of the giant machine, welding it into a puddle of cooling lava. Eddy then turned and escaped upward while Sequoia easily vaporized the swarm of missiles following close behind him.

"This is Captain Sequoia speaking," he said over the radio as soon as Eddy was back in position. "Back away from the canyon. Repeat. All HUNTA troops and equipment vacate the canyon area immediately." An unintended edgy anger on his voice made him seem even more deadly than he already was. HUNTA troops and equipment immediately began pulling back from the canyon.

The braves were in high alert survival mode. Hardy scouts who risked their lives to keep a watch at the canyon rim had seen what had happened, they signaled to those below that it was now or never; the time had come to make a break for safety. Those still below hurried to climb up and out of the canyon, which they followed upward and further into the mountains, running full speed. HUNTA was far back and out of sight behind a hill before they stopped for breath. There was no panic among the braves as they ran. They strove with all their might to put distance between themselves and trigger happy troops, and they had succeeded, so far.

One more ridge lay between the braves and where they had hidden their buses. If the spaceships held the army at bay for an hour, they knew where to disappear. They were headed for a box canyon lined with old-growth ponderosa pine. It wasn't long before they reached the buses and helter skelter piled in. Then, with their hearts pounding every inch of the way, they drove as fast as school buses can go.

No revealing tire tracks marked their passage from the paved highway when they reached their hideout. Tire screeching turns carried them onto a gravel road leading away from the rural highway and into the box canyon, a rarely used public park of grand scenic wonder. They drove through whispering old trees on a small dirt road that wound from the parking lot at the end of the gravel road and then under a huge overhanging cliff. Their chosen hideout was completely shielded from view on its open side by the large ponderosa pines.

Everyone leaped from the buses hooting and dancing in jubilation. They danced, but they also knew that without the timely arrival of pioneer spaceships, they would all be either dead or in chains. Still, they had proven that the bolo slingers were a superb weapon against a formidable army and they were rightfully proud of their accomplishment. Over one hundred battle-wise braves stood with clenched fists raised in sudden skin-tingling silence. Each would soon lead another small army to harass and slow the HUNTA march on Nation Pacifica. Every brave was committed to a life or death struggle with a foe bent on consuming Mother Earth. There were no spies, traitors, or doubts among those hidden behind a desert shield of ancient natural beauty.

Sequoia and Eddy turned their attention outward from Earth as soon as the last bus was safe. They swung wide in order to safely join the battle from the sides. Eddy approached from the Pacific while Sequoia arced into space from the Atlantic.

Though Use military force had been slow to turn its sights on the orbiting battle platform, it made up for lost time by firing hundreds of missiles. Sean's cruiser was darting around like a swallow catching late evening insects. He stayed high and simply blasted as many missiles as possible, all the while circling the delfinian ship and being careful to avoid its defenses. Liz was doing a tremendous job thinning missile swarms from the pacific side but the incoming flood was growing more intense, She and Sean were both becoming weary by the time Sequoia and Eddy arrived to help.

Use then broke off the attack, presumably to save their missiles for a time when the delfinian ship was less protected.

"We seem to be at something of a stalemate," Captain Pearl commented over the radio, well aware Use military and political leaders were listening. "We can't move closer and our long range weapons are for deep space defensive warfare only, they're way too powerful to use near a life supporting planet."

"Perhaps you should move further away for awhile," Admiral Castro suggested.

"That will make defense much easier," agreed Captain Pearl as he began moving away from the planet.

"Both cruisers and the fighter proceed to Earth Base One," the Admiral quietly commanded into his hand-held radio, sitting cross legged atop Pito's head. Commander Grey was leaning on the submarine rail, looking down on the Admiral, and listening intently. "Pioneer Frigate; Travel your fastest to Earth Base Two and pick up President Sudor. Take him to the battle platform. Pronto!"

Eddy rolled away from the other ships, toward Earth. He tapped the joy generators once and then spent the rest of the flight slowing out of his own custom-made gravity sink, directly above Earth Base Two, just south of the spaceport.

Dasaye and Sudor ducked underwater upon hearing the first crash of the frigate's booming arrival. Sudor glimpsed the nose of the frigate sticking out of a surrounding shock-wave cloud just as he went under. Their keen fourth-brain acoustical senses guided them back to the surface only a few meters from where Eddy had positioned the spaceship in hover mode. A bucket-like tank for sea water and Sudor was already hanging from a winch, with its open top barely breaking the surface.

"It's too small for me," Dasaye said. "Are you leaving me here, friend Sudor? he asked in a tone both pained and startled.

"Only briefly," Sudor replied, touching his forehead to Dasaye's. They both relaxed for a moment and let the conscious ebb and flow of their brain waves play over them like a warm shower. They didn't know it but they were brushing up against the consciousness dimension Star Song had trained Eddy to use so well; far, far away, Star Song felt them and was pleased.

"Ocean People will tell me where you are," Sudor said, swimming into the hanging tank. "I'll meet up with you before you're halfway home," he called down as he disappeared into the spaceship.

Dasaye swam a safe distance from the take-off area and kept going, out of the harbor, on his way to Earth Base One. He watched Pioneer Frigate rapidly shrink to a tiny spot far above and then disappear. Dasaye's deep chuckle hummed with a slightly sorrowful note as he rounded the island. He was already missing Sudor as Eddy flew in the open landing bay door of the delfinian spaceship.

Sudor vaulted out of the frigate as soon as atmospheric pressure was sufficient for Eddy to open the door. He landed behind a water barrier that had been extended just under their arriving ship, it smoothly retracted behind Sudor as he swam through an inner door. The barrier's seemingly magic disappearance reminded Eddy of someone sucking a strand of spaghetti. Sudor barely had time to wave his thanks before the door leading into the inner chambers of the delfinian ship closed.

Eddy watched the green atmospheric monitoring light turn red. The water was already gone and soon the air would be removed as well. His spaceship was just enough smaller than the cruiser that he actually had sufficient room to turn around and fly out of the landing bay front-ward, which he did as soon as the exit light turned green.

He quickly eased away from the bigger ship and headed closer to the planet, stopping at the same five thousand kilometer position from which Liz had vaporized so many attacking missiles. The Admiral's voice came on the radio as soon as Eddy had stabilized his position.

"Wait there," he said. "Proceed to landing when the fighter replaces you. It's being refueled now. Follow the course backwards to land.” Then the radio clicked off.

Eddy needed no further instructions. Mathew, Leona, Kevin, and Glafco watched the sensors until they picked up the fighter. It was streaking away from the island base at very low elevation, virtually impossible to spot unless one knew exactly where to look. The fighter reached its destination and blasted away from the planet, from a direction that made it appear to leave a different island.

Leona entered the fighter's flight path into the navigation computer and Eddy flew down the same route when their turn came to land. The river cove landing area was completely filled by the cruisers and their cargo so he settled in where the old fort ruins had been before the typhoon washed away its last remains.

Glafco ran down the ramp and dropped to his knees. "It feels good to be back on solid ground after all that!" He cried out jubilantly, running his fingers through the sandy soil. Mathew, Glafco, Eddy, and the newlyweds, Kevin and Leona, then walked quietly together along the path toward the river. It was early dawn and they were surprised to see lights coming from an almost completed foam-stone headquarters.

"What a cool building!" Glafco exclaimed, walking closer to examine the structural arcs of bamboo.

"The inside finish is exquisite," Leona said peeking through the open doorway. "There must be thirty sailors working in there. Do you suppose they worked all night?"

"That would explain how they did so much so fast," Mathew said, squeezing past Leona and into the building, where he immediately spotted his brother, Scott. "It looks like you and the submarine crew been working on this place night and day," he called out.

Scott looked up from his work and a relieved smile spread across his face, he'd been naggingly worried about his brother rocketing around the planet. "Yep, we've had submarine crews rotating shifts around the clock."

"Does the Admiral work with you?" Leona asked, following Mathew through the door.

Scott laughed. "He's an absolute fanatic running around like a mother hen building a nest. You'll see, he spends hours weaving the slit bamboo strips for the inner walls. I think he uses the job for meditation."

"Where is he?" Eddy inquired.

"The Admiral and Pito have been out all night trying to convince the submarine commander to be a model prisoner and keep his position without a spaceship on guard."

"Wouldn't that be mutiny? Or something even worse, like a traitor?" Said Mathew, raising his eyebrows, and then frowning at the speculation of what might happen to Commander Grey, who he'd grown to like.

"It's called switching sides and bringing your war toys with you," Scott assumed a flat-foot-arms-spread stance that clearly said, "Who knows?" He cast Mathew another beaming, wide grin, and then a laugh. "Inocente is a sly cookie," he continued, "He and Will set up a land based joy canon just in case the sub commander won't go along with their latest plan."

The now gathered frigate crew laughed along with Scott. Each of them had a different reason how Scott created their affection for him, somehow he made them all feel as if they were one family, the sailors felt it, too.

Mathew locked his hands on some of the heavier bamboo bars and pulled, nothing moved as he vigorously swayed and stretched his back muscles. He let go with a satisfied sigh and introduced Glafco and Scott. They joked around for a few minutes. Was it was more fun to build a foam-stone building or blast around in space chasing atomic bombs on missiles? Then Mathew grew more serious and gazed toward the ocean, which was hidden behind the dark tree line.

"Some of us should hop on whales and go relieve the Admiral," he said. "Commander Grey might see his way clear to stay away from war, he could turn either way. If he even gains a whiff of understanding the freedoms in Glafco's and Kevin's democratic economy, maybe he’ll commit to reality; until then, he’s dangerous. By the way, Sean brought the newest model distiller."

"Distiller is a mystery to me," Scott mused. "How the heck does that thing manage to say what a hundred thousand or a million people mean after they speak into it?" he asked, turning to Glafco.

"It's mainly a specialized computer," Glafco replied. "Custom designed chips store phrases and factor the individual words into a matrix of the most probable context. There's a computer whiz and a complete dictionary in there somewhere, too." He said with a grin. "Distiller software connects the words and phrase collections and uses its internal dictionary to construct the most logical meaning of thousands and millions of people speaking into it at once."

"How does it ask questions?"

"That is exactly what makes everyone so curious," said Glafco. "Here comes Sean. Distiller is his baby, he can explain it."

"I heard what you're talking about," Sean said as he joined in. "We humans use facial expressions and body language to impart added meaning to our words, which the distiller can neither see or do. Doubt and questions do have specific voice tonal shifts which distiller can use, though, associated phrases and words are shunted to subroutines and stored for later use if a precise summary of what everybody said into the machine proves impossible."

"How does Distiller conclude that a summary of everyone's ideas is not a logical answer?" Mathew asked in a perplexed tone of voice.

"That's the tricky part," Sean answered looking Mathew's way with interest. "I see why the Admiral chose you as an ambassador; you have the ability to see the central question, your talent is knowing what to ask."

Mathew grinned , a touch self-consciously.

Sean was pleased, he liked talking about his pet project with someone who might come up with a good idea. "Sometimes Distiller misses the point entirely, but that is happening less and less with the newer models," he said.

"So how does it do it?" Mathew persisted, leaning toward Sean, with his hands clasped behind his back and momentarily rocking onto his barefoot toes grasping and feeling the soil.

The distiller response is generated from the internal dictionary, which includes most languages," Sean continued. "The verbal input matrix is compared to the doubt and question matrices, as well as the response formulated from the internal dictionary. Holes in the logic chain are exposed and Distiller asks the most probable question about words that electronically shine through holes in the overlying matrices, that's after all sorts of word tests are run using literally thousands of logic routines."

"You're telling me that errors and omissions in the conscious thought of thousands are like open spots in a forest roof that let rays of sunlight beam in dapples to the forest floor?"

"Yep. Those are the matrix holes that electronically add up to words shining through. They are then rectified against raw verbal input, selected by mathematical logic, ordered by quantum potentials, and then spit out as a question.

"You might be interested to know the distiller voice is a friend in Hollywood, he didn’t quite make it to the top as an actor but his voice is now known to hundreds of millions, maybe over a billion.” Sean concluded.

"Wow.” Mathew breathed. “Maybe I have a little better picture of what makes it work, this is even more mind boggling than Kevin’s caloric entropy accounting. I’d like to talk more about this later. For now, though, some of us should go check in with the Admiral."

"I'm going to finish unloading the cargo," said Sean.

"Ready for a whale ride?" Kevin asked Glafco.

"Way ready," said Glafco, turning toward the beach. Mathew watched them go, waved to Sean, and ran to catch Kevin and Glafco heading for the Admiral.

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