New Harmony
by Ellen Miz Ellen
#1 - Ambassador
I bit my lip. As always, I waited until after the meeting to speak. “Just one thing, sir: the disappearances stopped months before the new patrols started.”
General Ding looked as if I had rained on his victory parade. “Can you substantiate that, Esther?”
“Yes, sir.” I flipped through the bulging portfolio to find the charts. “The seasonal pattern spikes highest in the spring, when seeds are planted in the outlying fields and again in the fall, when those fields are harvested. Previous lulls are in winter when people don’t move around much. But look. We went through last harvest without a single disappearance. Captain Smith only started the new patrols last month.”
Ding paged through my charts. “I don’t understand this enemy of ours, why they can destroy the best ships that Earth can send but lurk unseen in the forest taking only a few people at a time. Seeing your charts makes the pattern clear—this last staff meeting was nothing more than a waste of coffee.”
Engers came huffing down the hall. “Sir! Something’s coming!”
“An army?” Ding asked calmly.
“No, sir. It’s like a monster!”
I rushed to the roof of the command bunker. Those with binoculars took them away from their eyes, polishing the lenses as if that would change what they saw. “A flag of truce!” I exclaimed.
Ding strolled out of the elevator. “Hold your fire!” he said to the men at the cannons. He studied approaching figure. “A white flag, anyway,” he observed “Now what would that mean?”
“Maybe – an invitation to meet peacefully to discuss things?”
“I know that’s what a parley flag means!” he snapped “But how would aliens know?”
“They must have more than a nodding acquaintance with Earth – where else would the horse come from?” I asked. The ‘monster’ could now be seen with the unaided eye: a cream-colored horse, the rider somber in black, a white banner floating above. As if he heard me, the rider’s face tilted upwards. His free hand lifted in a wave.
As I lifted my hand to wave back, Ding grabbed my arm. “What are you doing?”
The rider dismounted. Tying the reins, he slapped the horse’s rump. A black mist engulfed it as it bolted. It vanished, mid-buck. A chill shivered my spine. Was that what happened to our people? Looking at me, the rider made a come-hither gesture. “Sir, he wants us to come down.”
“Eh?”
The figure below, looking at the Asiatic cast of Ding’s face, reversed his hand and beckoned again. “I’ll be!” said Ding. He snapped a question at Engers.
“Nothing I can positively identify as a weapon, sir. There’s – it must be metal – on his left hip. I’d need a close scan to be sure.”
“Go do that then,” said Ding.
Under his dark skin, Joe Engers turned gray. In civilian life, he was the power plant engineer. “Sir?”
Some devil was in me. “I’ll do it.” They stared at me, seeing a middle-aged woman of no particular value, and I could see that they thought it was a good idea.
Ding pulled at his chin. “I’ll go, too.” The staff officers made a fuss about him putting himself in harm’s way, and he gave way. Then, to assert his authority, he refused to let me go, dispatching Engers with a squad.
