Machiavelli's Harvest

By Perry Hurtt

Elijah has spent his life fighting from the shadows - protecting the United States and her allies from every imaginable threat. When his partner Katrina shares her suspicions of powerful forces at work against them, Elijah agrees to accompany her to investigate a nondescript warehouse where their worlds are shattered and the fate of humanity is brought into question.present itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Perry Hurtt
• Release date: Jun 27, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311872241

Perry Hurtt

Hey all! I was born in Hillsboro, Oregon in 1965. I joined the Marine Corps as soon as I graduated Lower Lake High School in 1983 and spent the next 16 years traveling the globe and working in whatever capacity the Marine Corps saw fit. In March of 2000, I was honorably discharged, having gained the rank of Gunnery Sergeant (E7) and decided to throw my hat into the Corporate America ring and see what could happen. Since then I've worked for a few different companies but always keep my eye on my writing.

Book preview

Mars

Commander Colin McDermott had the future of seven billion people on his shoulders and he didn’t even realize it.

I understand why the sky is blue, but why is Mars red? In spite of the excitement of the moment, he remembered the seventh grade question that had started him on his lifelong journey to reach the Red Planet. To this day, he also recalled Mr. Loudenbeck’s response word for word.

The red color comes from rust in the surface iron of the rocks and dust of Mars. Rust indicates warm as well as wet conditions at some point it the past. Warm and wet may mean life; this is why Mars has always been such a prime target for exploration. Many scientists and astronomers believe--

Are you ready Colin? Lauren asked, jolting Colin out of his daydream. Ready to make history?

Yep, let’s do this, Colin said. Waving over his shoulder and giving the OK signal to his team members, Colin walked onto the platform that hung over the cave.

It was more of a hole than a cave, but they referred to it as a cave since its discovery. It was a hole about 80 feet wide and bottoming out almost one thousand feet below into a horizontal tunnel. The sonar echo pulses showed them that much. Colin and his team were about to discover the rest the old fashioned way.

The rest of his team members followed; six people, gathered onto the platform and ready for an exploration never experienced by humans before. Once all were on board with their lanyards connected to the platform’s railing, Colin pushed the button and the platform began to descend. Halogen lights pointed in every direction. The descent was smooth and an LED indicator displayed their depth based on the amount of cable used. Above them, the opening of the cave grew smaller and the wall of the cave pressed in on them. After five minutes, they had descended about two hundred and fifty feet.

Incredible, Lauren said. Not a single mark or any sign of drilling or blasting. The wall is so smooth it looks like it’s polished.

I’m curious what kind of tools they used to dig this out and leave the surface so smooth, Colin said.

Whoever inhabited this city had some advanced technology and the skill to use it, Lauren said.

Another two hundred and fifty feet, another five minutes of silence and not a single blemish on the wall of the cave.  Their lights reflected off its surface like a mirror. At about the five hundred foot mark, the hue of the cave wall changed to a darker brown color, causing the cave to seem to close in even more on the small platform. The entrance far above was a tiny pinprick of light.

Anybody claustrophobic? Colin asked with a nervous chuckle. Hope not, we’re about halfway. Another ten minutes or so to go. Everybody ok?

A chorus of head nods answered Colin’s question.

As the LED indicator showed eight hundred feet, the cave wall changed from its mirror-like surface into an engraved ledge. Colin stopped the descent so they could inspect. The ledge ran around the perimeter of the cave, adorned with detailed etchings depicting what appeared to be animals of some sort at a series of gatherings. Under the ledge, six engraved columns stretched into the darkness below.  Arranged around the perimeter of the cave, they gave the appearance of supporting the ledge. Between each of the engraved columns, recessed alcoves etched with detailed engravings stretched deep into the darkness below.

Take some pictures folks, lets get this recorded, Colin said.

After the team finished photographing the ledge and alcoves, Colin once again pushed the button and the descent resumed. Six sets of eyes scanned the walls as the platform lowered. The columns and alcoves stretched out into the darkness above and below them. The entrance of the cave above was no longer visible. The bottom of the cave was still lost in the darkness. And all around them, in their small circle of light, the columns and alcoves continued to pass by.

The LED showed nine hundred feet.

Stop--stop! Lauren shouted, her beam pointing at what appeared to be a shelf in one of the alcoves.

Colin stopped the lift and all lights directed to where Lauren pointed. Embedded into the back of the alcove was a large statue.

Oh my God, Lauren stammered, crossing herself. The First Station.

NASA Control Center

Is that a cross. A crucifix?

Nobody answered since the picture on the screen was obviously a crucifix. The NASA team watched the pictures transmitted from within the ruins. The Mars team told them to expect pictures from an important find during this broadcast and they were far from disappointed.

This will change everything, someone muttered, many heads nodding in agreement. Everybody else was too shocked to say anything. The implications of what they were seeing were so vast, so unimaginable, it was too early to have any realistic interpretation of what was going on. A room full of the best and brightest scientists and analysts could only look at the transmitted images and wonder what the hell.

Wait, there’s more. A hollow voice speaking an unnecessary command. Nobody was going anywhere.

A stream of images flashed across the nine foot wide primary screen. They would pause and then shift to one of the smaller, secondary screens while the next new image would display on the primary screen for the next ten seconds. The entire team of NASA engineers, military and political advisers from all around the world, and one awe-struck cleaning lady watched the scenes unfold.

One after the other...

…several statues of the Stations of the Cross;  it looked like they were set into the wall of a cave.

…a different angle on the crucifix, showing details of the body attached to it.

…a view of the inside of the ruins, looking like a Catholic church during a quiet evening.

…rows and rows of empty seating.

…an altar, like those found in a Catholic church.

…and toppled from the altar, laying on its side, a stone cup. A goblet.

* * *

General Ryan was an uncompromising military man, a stickler for procedure with a reputation as being the best man to have on your side in a crisis. His thirty two years of active service had molded him into the textbook GI Joe. With a lifelong focus on physical fitness and wearing an immaculate uniform, his cold eyes and square chin dripped strength and authority. Nobody ever questioned his position and his orders were always followed. He was in the room in case something extraordinary unfolded. The images floating across the screens were indicative of the most extraordinary and troublesome event he could think of. General Ryan walked to his elevated office to make a phone call.

This is General Ryan, put me through to Gordie.

This is Gordie, what’s going on General?  Gordon Chessup, Gordie to his friends, had been the Secretary of Defense for almost two years when this mission launched. He was now in the twilight of his term and needed something spectacular to leave as his legacy. He was about to get it.

Gordie, good morning. Listen, we got some amazing pictures back from Mars, I mean incredible. You’re going to have to see them to believe them. First though, and this sounds extreme but when you see the pictures you’ll understand, we need to isolate the entire Control Center. Completely secure, physical and digital, blockades, signal jamming, external guards, tanks, jets, whatever. Hell, dig a moat around it. Nobody comes in or out. Nobody makes a phone call. Nobody sends an email.

You got it, Gordon replied, trusting Ryan’s judgment. Hold just a second.

Putting General Ryan on hold, Gordon made three calls. Each took about ten seconds and when he finished, he locked down the Control Center as tight as the proverbial gnat’s ass.

Ok General, done. Now, you wanna tell me why I just put my ass on the line?

Gordie, the pictures we got back. Unbelievable. Finding the ruins there was amazing but this new find is even more so. Religion, Gordie. Signs of religion. Ryan waited. He knew Gordie well enough to know he was internalizing what he just said and was formulating a response.

What? It was all Gordie could manage.

Religion Gordie. And not just any religion, they’re transmitting pictures of crucifixes and the inside of what appears to be a church, pews and everything. There’s even a goddamn goblet!

Ryan, wait a second. Back up and explain.

Gordie, they found a fuckin’ church on Mars. Buried deep. They found what looked like a huge hole under the main city and set up an elevator. They went down about a thousand feet and started seeing carvings on the walls of the cave. These carvings looked like the Stations of the Cross, for crissakes. They found a horizontal cave branching off from the hole and this cave led to what looks like a goddamn church. Pews, more carvings, an altar. The whole works.

Ok, who knows about it so far?

Only the folks in the Control Center here at Canaveral. That’s why I wanted you to help lock us down. We need to figure out what to do about this, General Ryan said.

Got it, you’re locked down. Nobody comes in or out without your permission. No signals in or out either except the phone on your desk. You’re gonna have some pissed off people on your hands in the Control Center pretty soon Ryan. When the novelty wears off, they’ll want to phone home.

At about this time the first of the night crew started showing up for their shift. General Ryan allowed these people to enter the facility, but allowed nobody to leave. He figured although it would get crowded, it would be better to have more people on hand if they ended up working in isolation.  At least it would let them establish a shift rotation. As a result, the twenty-two people who were in the Control Center from the day shift added to the night shift skeleton crew meant thirty four people were now confined to the Control Center. General Ryan had already solved the food, rest and rotation problems they would encounter. It was essential, he decided, to not allow anybody to leave and for there to be no outside interaction  until final plans were in place. Unpopular as he knew this was going to be, it was the only correct solution.

* * *

Joe Randall had been working at the NASA Control Center for several years, having graduated and completed an intern assignment. His enthusiasm for everything NASA did as well as his expertise got him the job that would cost him his life. When the pictures started scrolling across the screens Joe realized the importance of what he saw quicker than almost anybody else in the room. While most were still gawking and oohing and ahhhing, Joe took action.

With his cell phone concealed on his desk between his arms, Joe Randall snapped as many pictures as he could. Since he couldn’t aim for fear of others seeing what he was doing, he could only hope the pictures would turn out well. It was an awkward setting, his arms tented over the phone, his chin resting on one wrist while the other dangled the phone below and manipulated the built in camera. His first shot resulted in the click-whiiir sound that accompanies digital cameras to make them more realistic but nobody noticed. Joe turned the volume all the way down. The next several shots were silent.

…and dead on, it turned out. After taking several shots, Joe put his forehead into one hand leaning on the desk while looking at the pictures he had taken with the other hand hidden under his head and hunched shoulder. To anybody looking his way, he hoped he looked like he was crying or in some kind of anguish, which was not out of the question given the situation. Every picture was dead center on the large screen and showed a few of the pictures from the smaller screens. Even a few of the military people as well as the NASA Control Center signage above the largest screen was visible in two of the pictures. Joe figured it would lend some credibility.

As the monster of a General walked out the door, Joe was already sending the pictures to Tom, his outside contact. He had been feeding Tom information for quite a while and he always paid well. He figured he would pay quite well for these pictures. Joe sent the first seven pictures to Tom, then his cell signal dropped and he could not regain it. A few minutes later the General walked back in and Joe was sure he had shifted a quick gaze his way as he moved throughout the room.

After sneaking his cell phone back into his backpack, he made a big deal of taking it out and trying to dial, discovering no signal, and then trying the land line. An attempt at an email and Joe’s mutterings and comments had caught and spread throughout the control center as others realized they had lost all forms of outside connectivity.

Portsmouth, Maine

Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape school, more commonly known as SERE School, is rone of the toughest military training courses. Focused on preparing attendees for the possibility of being shot down behind enemy lines, it has to be tough and realistic. Attendees sign a waiver to account for any injuries they sustain while attending and they sign a non-disclosure document keeping them from talking about the training after they leave the school. For those who attend, it is always a life changing event. For those who have not, getting information about what happens at SERE is frustrating at best. The most common answer is you just gotta go. Intended for Pilots, SERE nonetheless takes applicants from other areas as well. The different levels of SERE school are taught in different places and SERE-C in Kittery, Maine is considered the toughest of them all.

Elijah’s and Katrina’s attendance at SERE-C had required pulling some strings and calling in some favors, but General Ryan had plenty of both to work with and training such as this was critical to the morale, mindset and abilities of his agents. Elijah and Katrina had proven many times they could be counted on and Ryan believed in rewarding performance and trust.

Yeah, the little Filipino dude was rough. He was the worst, Elijah laughed over his beer. Katrina, sitting across from him at the small table in the crowded honky-tonk bar, nodded in agreement with a small smile.

The uniforms threw me off at first, and the accents. I think there was a point I thought I was in some Eastern Bloc POW camp, Katrina said.

I felt the same near the end, almost like I’d been transplanted to fuckin’ Siberia or something,  Elijah said. The accents, the uniforms, the head games. Pretty intense. Was some good training.

The best I’ve been through, Katrina said. You know I burned a big favor to get to SERE. Ryan said I needed a rest and asked me what I wanted to do, I said ‘SERE-C school sir’. He thought I was crazy. Took a little convincing but in the end he felt I deserved a bennie of some sort and gave me the option, so I took it.

Nice, you needed a rest so you chose SERE-C?

Well, he said I needed a rest, but I didn’t. But that didn’t stop me from taking advantage of his kindness, Katrina said with a small alcohol induced giggle.

When General Ryan starts showing any signs of being kind, be sure to let me know. I want to see it for myself, Elijah said.

Speaking of needing a rest, you held up pretty well in SERE Eli, no problems? Kat asked, skirting a subject they had advanced towards many times but which Elijah usually bailed on before opening up.

Yep. No problems at all, Elijah said.

Any idea how long before you start having symptoms? Katrina asked.

According to the doctors, I should be having them now. Moody, bad memory, coordination problems and some problems walking, but so far nothing.

Except maybe the moody part, Kat laughed.

Yeah, I have my moods.

Well Eli, as always, when you want to talk about it, you know I’m here, Katrina said.

Right, and thanks Kat. And when I’m ready to talk about it, you’ll be the first to know. In the meantime, can you go get me a beer?  I would, but you know, my coordination is bad and I might fall. And then I might forget where I’m sitting, Elijah said, reaching for his wallet.

You got the last ones, I’ll get these, Katrina said, getting up and walking around the corner to the pool-room bar. The joint they found themselves celebrating SERE school graduation was a fairly large establishment. Large enough to have three bars. Too many people mingled at the main bar so Katrina went around the corner by the pool tables to the smaller and less crowded bar.

In Katrina’s absence, Elijah busied himself people-watching, as he often did. Fresh in his mind was the torturous three weeks of SERE school from which he, Katrina and eighteen others had just graduated. After a mandatory 24 hour cool-down in the barracks, decompression they called it, the attendees were given their certificate and sent on their way. Elijah had hitched a ride with Katrina for a few beers and extra decompression at The Country Palace on the outskirts of Portsmouth. She always skirted the subject of his diagnosis without coming right out and asking about it. Elijah knew her well enough to know she’d done her research the day she found out about it and now knew as much about Huntington’s disease as he did. Probably more. It may have been his imagination but he could sense her keeping an eye on him, looking for an odd stumble or slurred word. She would be on the lookout for the first hint of the disease affecting his abilities and when it happened they would have no choice but to end their long partnership. Neither of them wanted to but in their line of work it would be a liability that could not be overlooked. At thirty-four years old, Elijah was right at the beginning of the age range where symptoms should be starting or already visible.

Elijah’s thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of struggle from the bar where Katrina had just gone for the drinks. Getting up from his table, Elijah walked around the corner to see one man unconscious on the pool table, and Katrina with a choke hold on a second. Elijah intercepted a friend of the unconscious man as he snuck up behind Katrina with a beer bottle held ready for a strike. Before the man could act, Elijah had him in an arm bar, face down on the same pool table his friend now laid unconscious on.

Barkeep,  Elijah said to the bartender, you need to get the bouncers over here before there’s some real trouble.

Elijah and Katrina had stumbled into a group celebrating the birthday of the now unconscious gentleman on the pool table. A group of about 15 had circled around the commotion with Katrina and Elijah at the center. The bartender’s frantic search for the bouncers was unlikely to result in help in time to stop any further escalation.

What happened Kat? Elijah said, keeping his opponent in the arm bar and an eye on the advancing crowd.

Let’s just call it an unwelcome advance, Kat said. The puke on the table is apparently a real lady’s man.

Uh huh. Not so much now though, Elijah said. Listen up everybody, Kat and I can do this all night long. You all need to back down and we’ll leave peacefully. Keep this up and more will get hurt.

Elijah and Kat’s calm in spite of what had already happened unnerved them, causing the crowd to re-think their next step. Kat took this delay as a chance to better her position. As the opponent she had in the choke hold went slack, she dropped him on the floor and picked up a cue-stick, breaking it in half over her knee and doing her best Bruce Lee imitation, complete with animated twirling of the two halves of the stick and some kind of guttural moan-scream. While Elijah tried hard to suppress a smile at her antics, the advancing crowd stopped and stepped back.

Your friend is a pig guys, he’ll wake up in a little bit so there’s no reason for any of you to get hurt over this, Katrina told the crowd. Just back off, we’ll leave.

The bouncers arrived and broke through the circle, positioning themselves between Elijah and Katrina, and the group. With quick glances back to Katrina holding the two halves of the cue stick, and at Elijah with his opponent face down on the pool table, the bouncers were experienced enough to know the real trouble lay in the large group and not Elijah or Katrina.

Move ‘em back to the wall, the lead bouncer told the others. The group of bouncers advanced on the birthday group, herding them towards the back wall.

And you, let him go, he told Elijah.

Will do, but you need to be ready to pull him back if he gets frisky. I’m not going to be this nice to him again, Elijah said.

We got him buddy, just let him go, the bouncer said.

Elijah released his opponent who used the chance to move around the pool table and rejoin his group. He had learned his lesson and didn’t want any more of Elijah. At the same time, Katrina put down the cue sticks, pulled her wallet out and dropped a twenty dollar bill on the bar.

Should cover the cost of the pool stick, right? Katrina asked the bartender. We’ll be leaving now.

If you guys could make sure they don’t leave the building for about five minutes while we get our things and leave, it would be appreciated. They might be the sort to try more stupidity in the parking lot, Elijah said to the bouncers.

Yeah, we got ‘em. You two don’t have to leave. I’ll escort this group out. I know they started it.

No worries, we’ll be on our way, Elijah said. Do what you want with them.

The parking lot was clear of patrons, and Elijah and Katrina made it to Katrina’s Jeep without incident.

That could have gone worse, Elijah said. What happened?

Like I said, the guy’s a pig, Katrina said with a smile. Bus station?

Yep, I have to get back but I’ll see you in a day or two, right?

Yeah, I’m going home before I report back but that’ll get old pretty quick so I expect I’ll be back on the job in a couple of days, Katrina said and she pulled out of the parking lot.

Looking forward to Battle Griffin? Elijah asked, referring to the upcoming military exercise in Norway they would be participating in.

I am looking forward to it. I haven’t been to Norway in a long time and when I did go I didn’t have all that much fun. You’ve done Battle Griffin before, right?  I hear the caves are really something to see.

Yep, twice, Elijah said. I’ll give you the grand tour if your security clearance doesn’t get pulled before then. You know, little stunts like what you pulled back there with the Bruce Lee imitation can get it yanked.

I’ve heard. I’ll try to be nicer next time.

Any idea what kind of crap Ryan has for us in Norway? Elijah asked.

He’s playing it close to the vest. You know how he likes to surprise us to see how we react. I’m sure it’ll be interesting, Katrina said.

Hopefully it’ll be better than Barcelona. That was a mess, Elijah said, referring to a recent assignment that ended with dead Marines. Barcelona was a sore spot for Elijah as he believed the teams he supervised should have been able to discover the problems before the situation escalated and took the lives of several Marines and Sailors. Katrina hadn’t been involved in that one and didn’t agree with Elijah’s assessment of what went wrong. Any time the subject came up, Elijah got pissed and Katrina tried hard to change the subject.

I’m sure it will be, you know how creative Ryan can get. This isn’t a real assignment, it’s a military exercise and we get to fuck with the spooks and Intel weenies. What could be better than that? Katrina said, trying to change the subject away from Barcelona. Pulling into the bus station, Katrina parked in the empty space closest to the entrance. Hey, look me up when you get back to Quantico. I’ll be back before you and I have something I want to talk to you about.

Uh oh, I’m not in trouble, am I? Eli said.

Probably, but not with me, Kat said as Eli got out of the jeep.

Grabbing his sea-bag and walking around to the driver’s side, Eli had intended to shake her hand but Katrina surprised him with a hug and a peck on the cheek instead.

Thanks for everything Elijah, SERE sucked, but you made it worthwhile. See ya.

You too Kat, take care.

Elijah walked into the terminal without a look back. Katrina watched him walk through the doors, expecting at least a backwards glance. She had to admit to being a little sad he didn’t look back for a final wave. This admission pissed her off.

Atlanta, Georgia

Atlanta was wet and cold and the boxes were heavier than they looked but the small group of men and women worked hard to get them into the warehouse and lined up against the wall as they had been directed. Forklifts were not available so they moved them using two steel poles slid through openings in the boxes. With three people on each end of each pole the twelve workers were able to lift each box and carry it in a manner resembling ancient Egyptians carrying a Pharaoh on his throne. The freight truck backed up to the loading dock contained forty of these boxes, each of them strapped to the floor. No Stacking had been stenciled to the side of each box.

Damn things are heavy, Craig said. Although the driver of the truck, Craig also helped to unload, pitching in as much as he could. He was pretty sure Jiminy would expect him to and did so without asking, hoping Jiminy would be impressed with his initiative. Nobody was sure where Jiminy fit into this whole thing but it was obvious he was an important person in the grand scheme.

No shit. Curious what’s in ‘em. Guess we’ll find out eventually, Jack said.

You’ll find out in good time my friends. Let’s get them unloaded and into position, Jiminy said. The first three go along the back wall, they’ll be staying here. The rest go along this front wall as they’ll be moved again. Let’s go people!

The process was slow, requiring each box to be rigged up with the carrying handles and then moved, then disassembled and then on to the next box. At first nobody felt much like talking but as the day dragged on, the conversations picked up. Before long the banter turned to food.

Got some pizza ordered Jiminy? Craig asked. Looks like we’ll be here most of the day.

Already ordered. Pizza and drinks will be here at noon, Jiminy said.

Great, thanks. Hey, did you say you had already met Snowy? Craig asked.

No, not yet. I’m going out next week to meet him, Jiminy said.

Meeting Snowy face to face. A real honor Jiminy, Craig said. I hope I get to meet him at some point.

Well, he’s only one man and so can’t meet everybody. His broadcasts and messages will have to be enough for most of us, Jack said.

Yep, but still… Craig said.

Tell you what, when I meet him next week and if things go well, I’ll let him know there are some folks here who are interested in meeting him. Maybe we can set up a meeting, Jiminy said, unconsciously nodding toward the boxes along the back wall. I know he has plans to meet a lot of you, but as Jack said, he’s only one person.

What do you mean ‘if things go well’? Jack asked.

Snowy is a bit of an odd bird, a genius and a prophet. Folks like him don’t always respond the way you think they will. Our guys think they know him pretty well, but there’s always a chance the relationship won’t work out, Jiminy said.

Then what’s with all the boxes if there’s not already a relationship? Jack asked.

We’re betting on things working out, Jiminy said,  but if they don’t, well, we’ll have to find another partner.

With three of the boxes along the back wall and sixteen of them loaded along the front wall, the group milled about as Jiminy paid the pizza guy and sat the pizzas, drinks, napkins and paper plates onto a table.

Back to work guys. One more box, Jiminy said.

Let’s eat first, then we can finish, Jack said.

One more box, Jiminy said.

Come on dude, what’s the difference. Let’s eat now, we’re fuckin’ hungry, Craig said. The other workers nodded in agreement.

One more box, Jiminy said, and edge creeping into his voice.

The group of workers stood facing Jiminy, the pizza table at Jiminy’s back. Jiminy was not a large figure, certainly a good deal smaller than most of these bruisers who had been unloading the boxes and weighed a little more than half of what Jack’s two hundred and fifty pound frame held. It had been a long day and the work was exhausting. The tempers had grown short while the appetites grew. Jack stepped forward and started to move past Jiminy to the pizzas. The other eleven members of the group watched in awe as Jiminy grabbed Jack’s arm as it was reaching for the pizza box, twisted it around behind his back, and then drove him face first into the wall, smashing his nose.

You might want to re-think your options Jack. One more box, Jiminy said.

As Jack stumbled back from the wall, blood pouring from his nose, he lunged for Jiminy but Jiminy was far too fast. Jiminy moved behind Jack and sent a flurry of punches into his kidneys followed by a looping roundhouse to the ear that sent Jack crashing to the floor where he laid motionless. Bending down, Jiminy rolled Jack over and propped him up against the wall so his nose could bleed freely. A pitiful moan was all Jack could manage. Jiminy stood back up.

One more box people, then you eat. Looks like you’ll need to manage without Jack’s help for now. Get goin’, Jiminy said.

The group looked to Craig for ideas. Craig was as big as Jack, but also a little smarter. Craig moved back to start unstrapping the last box they had moved and the rest of the group followed.

Craig, Jiminy called. Craig, you were thinking maybe you wanted to take a try with me?

Craig turned back from the boxes towards Jiminy, the little crowd parting as he did.

Jack is a friend, Jiminy, that’s all. Don’t like to see my friends get hurt.

And you want to do something about it? Jiminy asked.

Normally, yeah, I would. Right now though, I just want to get these boxes packed up.

Nothing normal going on here Craig. You’re in the fuckin’ anti-normal zone right now so why don’t you man up and avenge your friend here?

I don’t think that would help anything sir, Craig said, turning back to the boxes again.

First Craig, don’t ever turn your back on me. This conversation is over when I say it’s over. Second, I don’t think you have learned the right lesson here. The lesson isn’t we need to get the fuckin’ boxes unpacked, the lesson is you follow orders. Without question, without comment, without rolling your fuckin’ eyes. I don’t think you’ve quite learned this lesson yet, Jiminy said, walking slowing towards Craig. The little crowd now backed up to the wall, giving plenty of space around Craig.

Jiminy, I get it. You’re in charge. I get it. Can we please finish this now? Craig said.

No Craig, we can’t. You’re giving orders now?  You really don’t get it. Jiminy had closed the distance and was looking up at Craig from an eight inch height disadvantage. Craig had been in enough bar room brawls to know when the point of no return had been passed.

We need to do this? Craig said.

Yep, take a shot or I will, Jiminy said.

Craig’s fist lashed out, a quick and powerful jab that landed on air. Jiminy ducked it and moved around behind Craig in a blur, slapping the back of Craig’s head. Craig swung around to face Jiminy and was met with a flurry of punches to the head, breaking his nose. White flashes of pain seared across his temple and Craig staggered backward. Jiminy didn’t let up, following Craig back and pummeling his midsection. As Craig bent over, an upper cut landed squarely on Craig’s jaw, jolting him upright and then over backwards, sending him crashing into the wall where he ended up sitting alongside Jack’s still crumpled and bloody form. Once again, Jiminy made sure Craig was sitting up so his nose could bleed freely.

Symmetry, people. You’ll find symmetry is important. We have forty boxes to move and have finished nineteen. It makes no sense to stop here when we could move one more box and get to the halfway point. Symmetry, Jiminy said.

Symmetry, got it boss, Jack mumbled from his crumpled position against the wall.

Right, Jack. You’re going to be fine and everything is going to work out well for you if you learn to take direction. Remember, in SnowDream we have one leader and you are sworn to his cause.

But you’re still going to try to get him to come out here so we can meet him, right Jiminy? Karen, one of the workers who had been silent up to this point asked.

Of course I will, this changes nothing. You learn about symmetry, you learn maybe Jiminy is a little tougher than he looks, and you learn a little more about following orders. This is the natural course of things and changes nothing at all. You have a lot to learn, and a lot to unlearn, and we don’t expect it to happen in a day.

Thank you Jiminy, Jack said around a bloody snot bubble. The rest of the crowd nodded their appreciation as they strapped up another box.

Cape Canaveral, Florida

As the pictures continued to stream in and scroll to smaller monitors, nobody tried to leave so the problem of keeping everybody in the area was not an immediate one - but General Ryan knew it soon would be. After the novelty wore off, folks would want to call home and some would want to leave to be with their families. Once everybody realized the enormity of the situation, there would be a rush to leave the building and get home. Right now though, the pictures held everybody’s attention. Ryan knew it was important for him to prepare for the eventual rush and since these weren’t military people, his normal method