Book 1 Flight of the Armada Chapter 9 Part 2

The Thuringi always enjoyed the radio and got a better grasp of English from it. They listened to the music curiously. Thuringi music was comparable to Earthian folk music, largely acoustic and told stories through its lyrics. The first time Carrol heard ‘Sh-Boom’, she could not figure out what it meant. “La-da-da-da-da-da, Da-da-da-da-da’ meant nothing to them, to say nothing of the mystery of what or who Sh-Boom was. The instrumentals were well liked; ‘A Summer Place’ reminded Glendon of a winding drive in his speeder back on Thuringa, and the smooth sound of the violins were as pleasing as the sholti players that entertained during Festival at Arne.

None of the scouts understood ‘The Twist’, but at least they could guess with help of the lyrics. Darien was out with Lloyd Martin for the evening. Gareth happened upon the opening chords of a song on a different station on the radio in the living room, and he paused to hear it. It was then that the five Thuringi got the most unexpected shock Earth gave them yet.

‘Louie Louie’ was something of a minor scandal among Earthians, for the slurred delivery of the words on the recording tickled the lurid imaginations of many. But for the Thuringi, it was as if the Tarinade was put to music and broadcast over public airwaves. ‘I said’ sounded like the Thuringi asaya, or ‘let’s go’. Wegodgoe was a slang term for the sex act, which closest Earthian equivalent began with the letter ‘F’. Therefore, when the Earthian singer sang the Thuringi-sounding invitation, the listeners in the front room of the Sheldon ranch house froze in place.

In English the words were almost indistinguishable but in Thuringi, most of the words sounded like a lurid account of casual sex for a lecherous man and a wanton woman. They were so startled by this brazen account that no one thought to simply turn off the radio. They sat listening to the song until it ended, and a commercial came on.

“Word,” Brent said as a smile spread from ear to ear. “If not for the fact that he cannot sing a note, I could swear Darien somehow did that.”

“I cannot believe I just heard that!” Stuart bellowed. “Name of All!” But he too smiled because despite being mortified, he was inwardly amused at the unseemliness of it all.

“Yeep!” was all Glendon could manage.

“And we were concerned about Darien misbehaving in a cantina.” Gareth blew out a long breath as if decompressing. “These people are even more unwittingly offensive than I.”

“What a shame that the tune was so infectious,” Carrol commented. She sat in the floor and covered her face with her hands. “It is hard to get out of my head now.” Gareth tried to find another station, but ‘Louie Louie’ was going up on the charts and they came across it everywhere.

“There are some things, Stuart, that you are simply going to have to leave out of your report to your father,” Brent told him. “The song about the lustful flower is one of them.”

When Darien came in the door, they all tried at once to tell him about the song ‘Louie Louie’, but he could not follow what they meant. Carrol turned on the radio and searched until she happened upon it. The song lit up Darien’s eyes. He in turn corrupted his brother and best friend into singing the chorus with him.

Darien was the ringleader back in their Academy days, and Stuart and Brent were usually right with him in the thick of it all. They became quite adept at wreaking havoc in the Standard in Arne. Stuart might back off from their hijinks out of duty to the crown, but Brent reveled in the bad behavior, and was likely to try to top it.

‘Louie Louie’ did not put off Gareth at all. He enjoyed the notion that this was one time when an odious deed could not be blamed on a simple country boy from Carzon. He joined them in the chorus and winked at Carrol as he did so. Glendon was a proper Thuringi, but he was also a man who enjoyed a good naughty joke. This was completely out of his hands; he could not regulate the amusement of Earthians even if he wanted to. This was simply too ripe not to pluck.

For her part, Carrol stuffed her fingers in her ears and made faces at them all.

They laughed uproariously at the conclusion of the song, and Darien told them his evening in the Earthian cantina with Lloyd Martin did not offer this much amusement.

“Can you imagine,” Glendon chuckled, “the looks on our wives’ faces if ever they hear this tune? Isador would probably laugh. Janis would blush but she would find it privately amusing, of that I am sure.”

“Oh, and Aura!” Stuart began, and he and Brent looked at each other for a second before both men roared with mirth. Darien and Gareth and Glendon joined in, and even Carrol laughed at the prospect of Her Haughtiness hearing ‘Louie Louie’ in all its unholy glory.

“We must remember to do a rendition of it for her when we return,” Darien snickered. “To say nothing of the songs, ‘One Fine Day’ and ‘He is So Fine’.”

“Darien!” they all roared, outraged. Darien reminded them about the use of the word ‘fine’, and Brent could not hold back a wicked laugh.

“Aura will simply need to become deafened between now and the time she arrives on Earth,” he chuckled.

“How much did you have to drink tonight, Darien?” Stuart asked as casually as possible.

“I only had two of their rancid beerz in all. Word, that weak sauce can put hair on the tongue with no effort. Ugh.”

The oil field Dickie Forbes's company worked was fully developed, and the Forbes drilling company moved on to another field further away. Darien declined going with them, citing his reluctance to travel far from home. He was told he was welcome to join them again, and he politely agreed to consider it. Lloyd shook his hand as Darien left the truck on his last day. "Monica's still going to want to see the Magic Man," he told Darien. "I'm not sure how long I'm going to stick with roustabout work, myself. Don't forget us, now."

"I woe not," Darien promised.

He had plenty to occupy himself. Most of his time was spent on New Thuringa, where he developed the caves into living quarters. Blasting at the rock took a careful touch; excavating too little made for small claustrophobic rooms; too much, and the structure was in danger of collapsing altogether. He took advantage of the freedom of the island, and soon his hair was sun-bleached almost to the lighter shade of Stuart's and his skin bronzed nicely. He enjoyed the strength of the earth and the balmy caress of the breezes. Darien was able to relax and laugh on the island, in a vastly different frame of mind than what he had when they first came to Earth. Indeed, he had not felt this good since before the first attack on Thuringa by the Shargassi.

Through Congressman Price, Stuart was introduced to a rocket engineer with the Mercury program. At first Stuart was regarded as just another starry-eyed fan of the space program, albeit a large one. But after the engineer saw a few of the basic formulas and equations from elementary Thuringi physics, he desperately wanted to know more about where Stuart got his amazing information. Stuart was reluctant to give information without obtaining some diplomatic pluses for Thuringa. He did not divulge his whereabouts to the scientist or the congressman, remembering Michael Sheldon's strange reaction to the Air Force personnel.

Anthony tried to convince the engineer to keep the knowledge quiet as so not to alarm the Thuringi, but he was not sure how long he could keep the curious scientist satisfied with mere promises of more information. What he got from Stuart was enough to keep him puzzling over for a while, but he would want more soon.

Glendon secured several old Army generators from a surplus dealer, and Gareth put those to use as power generators for the island. He finished a new ship for Glendon, and the Golden Boy was somewhere between the size of the scout ships and the smaller two-seater fighters. They decided to keep the Her Nibs and the Sword and Fist as scout-sized ships so they could eventually return to the Armada with a minimum of needed large ships and a maximum of occupancy in each. Glendon found appliances Gareth could repair, improve, and send to the island. Carrol stayed in Oklahoma with Glendon and Gareth to run the ranch and work in the garden. Glendon moved into the Phillipi brothers' bedroom and it was a cozy companionable summer for them.

On pleasant nights, the three went to the local drive-in theater. Glendon sometimes sat in the courtesy seats at the concession stand until the young women gathered to visit with the handsome man with the odd British accent and emerald green eyes. Then he returned to the truck and continued to watch the film from there. In his presence Gareth and Carrol were well behaved, but Glendon could tell by the unkempt hair and clothing and the fogged-over windows that tomfoolery had been exercised in his absence. He even found himself apologizing for his early return.

Some Proper Garin I turned out to be, he thought wryly.

Gareth constantly worked on something at the ranch. There were projects all throughout the barn and in the house, and just outside the back door. Once in a while he decided to take a break, and if that break happened to be in the loving company of Carrol Shanaugh's soft bed and arms along with their copy of the Tarinade, no one was there to object to it. When Michael Sheldon came out to visit, he was always welcomed with enthusiasm. Michael still could not keep his eyes off Carrol, but he picked up on her and Gareth's new relationship change quickly.

Glendon made friends with the local lawmen and occasionally rode along with them on patrol out of curiosity for American law enforcement. The 'local Naradi' as he called them liked Glendon since the day he stopped the tough boys from harassing little Becca Morris. Glendon learned aspects of police procedure that Thuringi did not often experience: theft, rape, homicide. The police discovered how handy it was to have Glendon's muscular presence there to hold down a struggling suspect, and drunks were easily subdued. The policemen hoped Glendon would join them, but he explained he and his friends were having a difficult time replacing their passports and he could not apply.

One night Glendon awoke to a strange pressuring sensation surrounding his head. He looked around but could no longer feel it. It must have been in a dream, he thought, but he was now wide awake and a strong urge to get up tugged at him. He pulled on his boots and a robe and felt around for his pistol. He settled for his sword. He went out into the darkened hallway.

He glanced into Carrol’s bedroom and saw her peacefully asleep in her neat orderly bed, awash in the moonlight through the window. He checked on Gareth across the hall, and saw him sprawled across his bed, his limbs tangled in his sheets, in a deep sleep. Glendon went down the hall, down the stairs and opened the back door. He felt compelled to move his legs forward, out to the Golden Boy and without understanding why, climbed into the ship and flew off into the darkness.

He went toward town and saw the Gentry’s store and the rambling two story house behind it. The odd pressure seized his head again, not quite a headache but certainly not normal. He lowered the ship down silently to land behind the tangle of honeysuckle vines along the fence. Glendon stood in the side yard feeling more than a little foolish. A flashlight beam from an upstairs window caught his eye, and he heard muffled voices of alarm. He sprinted toward the house and recognized Ed Gentry’s voice.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, just don’t hurt my wife, please.”

“Shut up, old man, and get your safe open.”

“I told you, I don’t have a safe in my house. I don’t know where you heard I do.” Glendon heard a sickening thud and heard Margie cry.

“Please, if we had one, we’d open it for you, but we just don’t,” she cried. “You don’t have to hurt my Ed.”

Glendon stepped back from the house and looked up. There was a second porch, a widow’s deck as Margie called it, located over the main front porch. Crouching down, the Naradi leaped upward and caught two balcony banisters with his hands. He pulled himself up and onto the porch soundlessly. Drawing his sword, Glendon stepped over to the door and peeked in through the little glass window.

The bedroom lamp was on, and by its light he saw Margie on the edge of the bed with her arms tied at the wrists behind her. A man in dark clothing and sporting a rough beard held a large knife in one hand and held Margie by the hair with the other. Ed Gentry picked himself up off the floor dully. A callow-looking younger man in mismatched clothing stood ready with a wooden club. Glendon saw that Ed had been hit more than once by the club, and a large bruise developed over one eye.

“Come on, old man. I heard you never go to the bank ‘cause you got a safe here in the house,” the youth was saying. “Shut her up; I can’t stand to hear no blubbering.” Margie tried to keep from sobbing, but she was afraid and could not contain in her fear. The man who held her slung her forward to the floor, and Margie landed hard on her knees. The man looked at her impassively and started for her.

Ed Gentry thought the door to the widow’s walk exploded. Out of his good eye he saw a large, robed figure burst into the room with a sword, singing in an unfamiliar language. The sword flashed, and the man with the knife cried out in pain as a long gash appeared on his arm. He dropped the knife to grab his wounded limb. The robed figure advanced forward and lashed out with his foot. It caught the man in the side of the head and knocked him off his feet and back onto the bed.

The club-holder swung at the figure with his weapon, and the sword flashed again. The club holder then held a six-inch stub of wood in his double-fisted grip, and the rest of the club fell to the floor with a thud. The fist of the swordsman caught him in the jaw, and the club holder stumbled backward, dropping his stub of wood. The figure picked him up by his loose shirt and shook him like a rag.

“You dare bring harm to these people, you wretch!” Joe and Margie both recognized Glendon’s voice, in his clear English accent. “These kind good people? Do you have a death wish, boy?” Glendon heaved the younger man across the room at the other man, who had regained his senses enough to try to scramble from the bed. Both of the assailants tumbled hard against the headboard of the bed.

Ed pulled Margie out of harm’s way. They stood to one side of the room, astonished to see their gentle Glendon in an unprecedented rage.

“Come to me if trouble is what you seek! Come to me if it is a fight you want! Foul istays, you shall know the taste of Garin steel!”

“Who the hell is that?” one of the men squawked. “Freakin’ Richard Burton?”

“That’s my boy Glendon, you son of a bitch!” Ed shouted triumphantly as he untied Margie’s binds. “Margie, go call the sheriff from the kitchen.”

“But your eye, Ed!” Margie fretted.

“I’m okay, go get Fred to come over here!"

Margie hurried away downstairs to make the call. One of the men made a run for the broken door to the widow’s walk, and Glendon deftly stopped him with the threat of cold steel. The would-be thief rejoined his partner in crime.

“Are you in distress, Lord Gentry?”

Ed patted the tall Thuringi’s shoulder affectionately. “Not anymore, I’m not! You came right in the nick of time. God, am I glad to see you!” He shook a fist at the trapped men. “I told you sons of bitches; I don’t have a safe in my house! It just don’t seem like I go to the bank, because I like to be discreet about handling my store’s money. I ought to have young Glen here give you a taste of your own medicine! The idea, trussing my Margie up like a holiday turkey, and scaring her like that!”

“Shut up, you old man,” the younger thief snapped.

“Nacona delees fatuttan,” Glendon rasped, and for the first time the two men under guard noticed that the Gentry’s tall champion had yellow eyes. Eyes as yellow as the sun, as a sunflower, and he spoke in a language that was lilting and musical as a song, yet the mysterious words were clear in tone as to their content. The younger man shut his mouth abruptly.

Glendon’s boots were gray from wear, and his white robe came together in the front only barely held in place by his hastily tied belt. There was no other body hair on the tall figure before the robbers, and his white undergarments seemed to be just another part of the whole costume.

“Sweet Jesus,” the bearded man whispered, “they got a damn guardian angel.”

“And I am filled with righteous fury,” Glendon growled as he recalled part of a sermon he heard at Franklin Morris’s church.

The sheriff’s car and a second patrol car pulled up in the driveway, and they heard sounds of slamming doors and running feet. Margie led them up the stairs. The two would-be robbers were put in handcuffs right away, and the local doctor came in to look over Ed’s bruises.

“That big angel cut my arm open,” the bearded man complained.

“Too damn bad,” a deputy told him. “If you hadn’t been robbing a house, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“What did happen, Mr. Gentry?” the sheriff asked.

“These two broke in and tied up Margie and beat around on me. They thought I had a safe hidden here in my house, which I don’t. Then, just when that bearded guy pushed Margie down in the floor, the door just blew open and Glendon came in and saved the day, like… like a big blonde Superman!”

“Oh sure, I recognize him now. What happened to your eyes?” the sheriff asked Glendon.

“Nothing. It is genetic,” Glendon told him. “It is a burden that some in my family share.”

“Well,” the sheriff said, deciding to pass over this little mystery for the case at hand, “What made you come out here in the dead of night? Did you see what happened?”

“No, I cannot explain it exactly. I awoke with a terrible foreboding and I felt compelled to wander about. I came upon the Gentry’s house and saw the lights and heard distress. I got on the second floor and entered through the door as swiftly as I could.”

“I’ll say he did,” the deputy said, looking over the damage. “How’d you do this?”

“With a kick.”

“He’s a strong boy; picks up wood stoves like they were nothing,” Ed Gentry said proudly, as if to brag on his own son.

“It’s a miracle,” Margie said as she hugged the Thuringi around the waist. “I prayed and prayed for a miracle, and God send our Glendon out here to help us. He moves in mysterious ways, His wonders to perform.”

“The God of All knows the way of all things. Who can say how God aligns the stars?” Glendon quoted automatically.

“Don’t believe I’m familiar with that verse,” the doctor said as he bandaged the bearded man’s arm.

“He’s an avenging angel,” the bearded man croaked. “He said he was filled with righteous fury.”

“So am I,” the doctor snapped. “Ed and Margie are good friends of mine, you sorry bastard.”

“I always thought he was an angel,” Ed told Margie in satisfaction.

The sheriff seemed satisfied after a few more questions, and remarked it was a fortunate coincidence Glendon was restless that night and chanced upon the scene of the crime in time to prevent further harm to the Gentrys. The sheriff heard of other such premonitions from time to time and did not doubt it was the case in this situation. Thanks in part to Glendon's occasional ride-alongs with the sheriff and his deputies, they knew his character and his motives were beyond reproach.

Glendon called Carrol to come get him in the truck. “And bring Gareth,” he said in Thuringi on the phone in the Gentry’s living room. “He will need to be let out early so he can fly the Golden Boy back home without being seen. It is hidden behind the honeysuckle fence.”

“What?” Carrol asked sleepily.

“Just do it,” Glendon urged. Gareth and Carrol dressed hastily and did as instructed. Gareth found the Golden Boy in its hiding spot and carefully flew it home low to the ground, slowly to not attract attention. Carrol collected her ‘brother’ and got a glowing account from the Gentrys, the doctor, the sheriff, and the deputy about his brave and timely actions.

“I remember him helping out the little Morris girl,” the deputy reminded the sheriff. “He’s a pretty handy fellow to have around. He said he comes from a long line of policemen where he comes from.”

It was not until after the Thuringi left that the police wondered how Glendon managed to walk five miles in the moonlight at night with a big sword.

“Well, he kicked their widow’s walk door clean off its hinges. I guess your avenging-angel-type of guys can do that sort of stuff,” the deputy yawned.

The Gentrys told everyone who came into the store of their harrowing time and of Glendon’s heroics. Glendon would have preferred that they not mention it at all, but by the end of the next workday it was all over the county that Glen Garin rescued his patrons from a deadly pair of robbers. By the day after that, it was all over the local papers that Glen Gary Gentry rescued his parents from a group of killers. And in the Sunday edition of the Tulsa World there was a brief mention that Iron Post native Glen Gentry saved his parents from escaped convicts in the family store.

Darryl Sheldon asked Michael if he knew anything about it, and Michael said he did not, but it would not have surprised him a bit if it was all true. Michael came out to visit and to ask Glendon about the story in order to ease Darryl's mind.

Glendon sprawled out on the front porch swing, cooling off from a morning of hoeing the vegetable garden. He groaned and pulled his straw cowboy hat down lower over his eyes. “I cannot explain what possessed me to go to their house, but I did, and I am extremely glad of it. The Earthian Naradi cannot explain how or why I managed to safely travel five miles in the dark on foot, but they accept it. Darien always felt we should try to do something for the Gentrys, and I hope that in some way this may repay them for a portion of their constant kindness.”

Stuart at last heard from Congressman Price, who told him scientists were curious to meet him. He was able to make some inroads through his connections with the White House via NASA and petitioned President Kennedy to give him some time. Kennedy was having trouble of his own in his personal life, as his wife had recently lost the baby she was carrying. Stuart could not interrupt a family in mourning and chose to wait. In the meantime, he worked on contact with Anthony Price's people.

It had not been easy to bring up the subject of Thuringi to the average man. No one had heard of the Isle of Thuringa, let alone that it had a king. Like Michael, Anthony Price was reluctant to tell the whole truth about the Thuringi. He did not want to come off sounding like a nut who watched too many movies. He wanted their presentation to the world to be taken as seriously as it warranted.

The scientists were intrigued with what they considered Stuart's radical but theoretically intriguing space flight theories – information that was painfully elementary to Gareth and something Stuart learned at Academy in regular coursework. After several more weeks of arguing and vacillating, a representative for the scientists called the congressman to arrange matters and insisted it be at a Langley, Virginia address. Anthony contacted Stuart, who flew in to meet him at home when arrangements were finalized for a Thursday meeting.

Stuart spotted Anthony’s car and flew through the low-hanging clouds as inconspicuously as possible. On the way, he noticed a dark sedan following the Congressman’s car. At a lonely stretch of road outside Langley, the sedan pulled in front of Anthony’s car and a second sedan came up from behind. In a concerted effort, the two sedans slowed the congressman and brought the car to a stop. Men jumped out of the car and pulled Anthony from his vehicle and into one of theirs. They searched Price’s car and seemed quite perturbed at failing to find what – or whom – they wanted. The sedan with the congressman in it sped away. Stuart followed, uncertain whether this had been arranged by Anthony Price or if something was amiss.

They did not go to the location marked on Anthony’s map. Instead, they took the congressman to an auto garage and pulled him inside. Stuart landed quietly on the roof of the building and drew his projectile pistol. He reconsidered using a deadly weapon and retrieved a handful of small sharp throwing discs the size of his palm. He eased down the fire escape and gained access to the building's interior. Cautiously he stayed in the shadows and peered out in the direction of the men’s voices.

The congressman sat in a chair surrounded by men in dark suits as well as Air Force uniforms. Anthony Price appeared more angry than anxious. Stuart crept closer to hear the conversation and figure out his best plan of action.

“Mr. Price, ordinarily your story would be marked down as the rankest of puerile fiction but there are some points we drew from your conversation with our physicists that has us very interested. Tell us more about this so-called space man and the kind of technology he’s offering.”

“So, that’s why you snatch me out of my car like some kind of thief? You can’t just chat openly on the street like normal folks? Who are you people really? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

“Suppose you tell us what we are doing, congressman.”

“I’m not telling you anything! I’m a United States Congressman, damn it, and I’m not going to stand for this kind of treatment.”

“You inferred that an alien from space would be with you. Where is this alien?”

“Look, I didn’t say anything about space. I just said this man is an emissary, a scientist from another country, don’t you get that?” Congressman Price snapped. “How’s it going to look, you kidnapping a government representative? Puts an awfully nasty light on the United States military, don’t you think?”

“An emissary from where? I don’t think the nasty light on the military will matter in the face of national security issues. Where is he now?”

For a moment, the congressman was quiet, and then he spoke deliberately. “He must have decided at the last second not to come. I don’t know, maybe he didn’t like the idea of riding in a car today.”

“Where did he go?”

“How the hell should I know, what, do you think I’ve got a complete itinerary of a man I practically just met? Maybe he was just pulling my leg. Hell, he probably doesn’t even own a model airplane for all I know.”

“You related some very specific information on the phone to Dr. Forrester dealing with quantum physics; theories that frankly Mr. Price, you just don’t have the education to pose off the top of your head.”

“Pose this off the top of your head,” Anthony Price snorted, boldly displaying the middle finger from his fist to the man. “I don’t know about quantum physics, but I do know an asshole when I see one and buddy, you’re brown.”

His interrogator started toward him, but one of his companions stopped him.

“You are the one who contacted us, Mr. Price. You said specifically that this friend of yours has fantastic knowledge of space flight and those specifics you mentioned interested us very much. There was another man mentioned. Who was that, that was a contact, wasn’t it? What’s his name, congressman?”

“I don’t remember now,” Congressman Price spat out. “It was a name that started with the syllable, Quantum. You guys don’t exactly make a guy feel at home, you know.”

“You’re a single man in a busy city in an office of considerable power, Mr. Price,” the head interrogator pointed out. “Any number of things could happen to you. You could be mugged by someone who wouldn’t even realize you were a representative of the great state of New York.”

“Are you threatening me, officer? Do you not think for a minute that my family will investigate my disappearance; that they will find out who I called and spoke to?”

“Do you not think for a minute, Mr. Price, that telephone records can just disappear? That there will be nothing to trace? There is a man in your acquaintance,” he shouted at Anthony Price to vent his rising anger. “He is apparently privy to important information and access to a great deal of rocketry power. Your cooperation could mean the difference between the safety of the United States or the triumph of Khrushchev's Russia. How do you know he isn’t at this moment at Red Square striking a deal with the Russians?”

“How do you know he isn’t exactly what he says he is: an emissary, looking for a place for his refugee nation to apply to for sanctuary?”

“If he has this sort of power, why would he need sanctuary? We’ve never heard of Thuringa.”

“Neither have I. I can only tell you what I’ve been told. He says they are refugees, and he flies a ship. I don’t know about rocketry; I’m a freakin' congressman, not effing Jules Verne.”

One of the other men spoke up in a cold voice. “Forget it; he’s a waste of time. What we want is the space man.”

“What about him?” asked someone meaning Anthony Price.

“Deal with him.” He turned to go.

Anthony Price spat out a filthy but appropriate epithet, and all but two men left the garage. Stuart waited until he heard the doors shut to step out of the shadows. One of the suits pulled a gun from his jacket without taking his line of sight from the congressman.

“You are not going to do this,” Anthony said in disbelief.

Stuart got out one of his discs and threw it at the gunman. The disc struck the gunman’s arm and the gun fell to the floor. The other man turned with his weapon, so Stuart threw at him as well. His aim was hasty, and it struck the man in the head instead of the hand. He fell as if shot. As the gun clattered to the floor Stuart rushed to strike the first gunman with his fist. All the gunman saw was a large figure with a billowing cape rush at him and two bright points of light flash blindingly in his eyes before the blow rendered him unconscious.

“Quickly, follow me,” Stuart told Anthony Price as he swiftly retrieved his discs. They went out the back door and up the fire ladder to the roof. Stuart threw the stunned congressman into the ship and they flew away, out over the Atlantic and from the continent. “Who were those men?”

“I don't know; some thugs from the seamy underbelly of some governmental alphabet department, I guess. I honestly did not contact anyone from the Air Force after Michael asked me not to, Your Highness. From what I gather, one of the physicists I spoke to had some of the mathematical formulas you gave us, and word got out that no one of this world could have come up with it, not even close. That doesn't say much for our science community.”

“No,” Stuart tried to reassure him, “Your people have not reached that point quite yet.”

They flew to Boston where Stuart hid the ship and they carefully made their way to Michael’s rental house. They waited and presently Michael came home untroubled and unaware. Stuart stepped into view as Michael came up to the porch, and the educator stopped short in surprise.

“What’s going on?” Michael asked cheerfully. “Have you contacted someone already?”

“Come with me,” Stuart said. “You may be in danger.”

He took Michael and Anthony away from Boston and hovered the ship a few feet above the waves in the middle of the North Atlantic. Anthony was agog at the power and ability of the aircraft and equally astonished that Michael took it as a matter of course.

Stuart brought Michael up to date of the events in the auto garage. “I have done you a grave disservice. I have endangered others in my quest to contact your people. I should have immediately contacted your president when we landed here rather than wait and then bring this upon you.”

“I’m the one who advised you to wait,” Michael told him. “I was afraid harm would come to you; I didn’t even consider someone might threaten a congressman.”

“What’ll we do now?” Anthony Price asked.

“I must seek out the president,” Stuart said. “You said you know him.”

“You bet I do,” Anthony said. “Just get me back to Washington.”

But back in Washington, they could not arrange a meeting; they spotted military personnel stationed outside Price’s congressional office. Anthony did not trust anyone at NASA now, so that avenue was closed as well. The final blow came when they arrived at his apartment and discovered it thoroughly ransacked. The only reason they could avoid the stakeout team was that the team did not anticipate their quarry having a ship that could land and take off from the roof. The threesome retreated to an obscure motel to discuss their options.

“There’s one person left that I know who could possibly be of help to us. It’s a long shot, but I’ve met him and he’s a great guy.” Anthony dialed and presently someone answered on the other end of the line. “Hello Bobby,” Anthony greeted. “This is Congressman Anthony Price of New York. Yeah, that’s right, the space gink. I wonder if you and your big brother could help a space gink out of a serious jam.” He laughed, glanced at Michael and Stuart and winked.

Michael realized who was on the other end of the line at once, but Stuart was in the dark. Anthony’s friend was the president’s brother and also Attorney General of the United States. Anthony briefly explained that Stuart was a scientist with a radical approach to space travel, and that somehow the Air Force was under the mistaken idea that he was a space man from Pluto or something! He and his old pal Michael Sheldon, Harvard class of ’53 - yes, a fellow alum, Bobby! – were being hounded by a bunch of thugs from Jetsonville, all on a big mistake. However, his friend did have some exciting theories about space flight that would help the space race immensely.

When he finally concluded the call, Anthony turned to them. “Bobby says to relax, he’s going to make a few calls to get this straightened out and get back in touch.”

“And you trust this Bobby?” Stuart asked.

“I trust Bobby Kennedy with my life,” Anthony told him.

“You are going to have to,” Michael said.

“You did not trust him enough to tell him the truth,” Stuart pointed out.

“There’s telling the truth, and then there’s judiciously editing what you say,” Anthony pointed out. “We told a few people about you and ended up almost eating a bullet. What little technology and information you shared was enough for shady elements in our government to go after you and by extension, go after me. We’d better rethink your approach. Unless you have got military muscle on hand to make the Air Force back down, you and your people need to lay low.

“So far, nobody else knows about you and you should keep it that way for a while. You’re a research scientist, if you have to be anything at all. Mike, there’s going to be a real curiosity circus going on about you once they start asking around where he came from, and who sent him to me. No doubt there’s a squad of air force goons checking out your activities, and sooner or later they’ll find the ranch. Fortunately, my staff doesn’t even know what our meeting was about this morning, so they won’t be able to say much. I’m sorry, pal; I honest to God believe you are who and what you say you are, but if anyone asks me again, I’m going to stick to my goofy scientist story.”

“I understand,” Stuart said.

“How long is this going to last?” Michael asked.

“It depends on the Kennedys, really. Bobby’s an enormously powerful man, the brother of the president, and if anybody can help us, it’s him. He and I will meet with Jack Kennedy when he gets back. He's going to go on a re-election stump for the governor of Texas in Dallas tomorrow.”

This information was met with solemn reflection at the ranch. Stuart said, "The Congressman is claiming ignorance of matters, saying only that he was passing along information he gathered but has not true grasp or knowledge of from whence it came. Brent has found a suitable place for a better outpost and I think we should move operations there. Michael is in Tulsa at his father's estate and believes he may be able to avoid being questioned through influential friends of his father's in the government. The time may have come, my friends, for us to flee our home again.”

They all digested this news as the telephone rang and Stuart answered it. “Yes Michael, it is I,” he said. “Are you? That is good news.” He was silent, listening to Michael speak. Finally, he said, “I understand. I will be watchful.” He hung up.

“You will be watchful about what? What did Michael say?” Darien asked.

“He and Anthony Price met with Bobby Kennedy. Apparently, their Harvard academy is a very close-knit brotherhood. Kennedy has arranged for the Justice Department to treat Anthony Price and Michael Sheldon as special protection cases. There will be no more bullets to be eaten.”

“That is good to hear,” Glendon said.

“For Michael and his friend, yes,” Stuart agreed, “but we are not under quite the same roof. As long as President Kennedy is in power, we will be under the protective auspices of the White House. Should he lose the next election, we will no longer enjoy having influence to help shield us. If we are able to meet personally with him after tomorrow, we will press the truth to him and forge a treaty."

The next day, Glendon came home to the ranch early, pale and shaken. "Gareth, where is Stuart?"

"He and Darien are looking at an actual gakki, I mean horse, that Michael's father sent out here. Why, what is wrong?"

"Lord Gentry heard it on the news," Glendon said, hurrying to the television to turn it on. He and Gareth stared in anguished disbelief as they heard the news announcement that President Kennedy died of the gunshot wounds he received that day at the hands of an assassin's gun. The six hastily assembled Thuringi sat dejectedly in the front room of the Sheldon ranch house.

Stuart was shocked. The Naradi Famede of Thuringa spent their tasks in protection of their monarch, and it was Stuart's understanding that the Secret Service was the American equivalent of Naradi Famede. He could not separate the idea of king and president from his mind. Why, this was tantamount to slaying King Lycasis, and Stuart shuddered at the thought.

How could this have happened? Were madmen allowed to run free in a nation already so lax in its behavior? And what was to become of their plans now? If it had been difficult to approach the president with the radical idea of alien visitors before, then doing so now might prove impossible at this point.

Darien swore and paced back from the stairs to the front door and back. "What good does planning do when this violent world slays the very people who are in power to help us? Even if we had been successful in contacting the president and gained his support, all is for naught. Now the people who were set to harm Congressman Price will be here after us and Michael Sheldon."

"Then we must leave Sheldon ranch immediately," Stuart said. "We must leave no trace of our being here to spare Michael any trouble in the future. Glendon, if you must bid farewell to the Gentrys, do so casually. Tell them you are going to visit friends back home. Gareth, let us load all your mechanical marvels in the Sword and Fist that we can and ferry them out to the isle as soon as dusk settles."

"What about all our effects here? The heaters, the furniture?" asked Carrol.

"Take them, too. We must leave this place clean but also sterilized of all things Thuringi."

They moved quickly and quietly. Gareth disconnected all his inventions and repair work, and by the time dark finally enveloped the ranch grounds the barn was empty and the house bare. Everything was flown out in multiple trips of the Sword and Fist and Her Nibs. All that was left was to wait for Stuart to return with the Sword and Fist to get Gareth and Carrol, and Glendon and the marshmallow white truck he drove into town to say goodbye to the Gentrys.

Gareth and Carrol rocked on the porch swing and enjoyed their final, if stressful, evening on the ranch. "It was nice while it lasted," Gareth commented.

"Gareth, do you ever envision a time when we will not be fleeing to a new home?" Carrol asked wistfully.

"I think New Thuringa will be safe enough for us. It is easier to defend something that is completely in your care rather than worry about, say, Darryl Sheldon's cabrett getting caught in crossfire." She nodded.

Stuart landed the Sword and Fist in the back yard, and Darien did the same with the Naughty Boy.

"Where is Glendon?" Stuart asked the pair on the porch. "I thought he would be finished by now."

"So did I," Gareth said. "It surely does not take even the garrulous Glendon Garin this long to say goodbye."

"I will go see what might be holding him," Darien said. "They know me there more than any of you." Stuart agreed, and Darien flew the Naughty Boy to the feed store.

“We are returning to our homeland at last, and I wanted to say goodbye to you. This tragedy in Texas has frightened Carrol very much. It makes her think of war and of losing her husband.” Stuart could never have brought himself around to telling out and out lies, but Glendon had no such compunctions. If it would provide a safe environment or escape for his royal charges, Glendon Garin could tell classic whoppers.

The Gentrys were sorry to hear about Glendon’s “plans”. They were very fond of the friendly young man with the lilting accent and bright eyes. He spoke to them longer than he intended. He was about to leave when he felt an odd chill run the length of his spine.

“Would you mind if I went out through the back door?” he impulsively asked Margie. She said no, of course not, and gave him an affectionate hug. He shook Ed’s hand and left. As the door softly closed, the front door to the store opened and in walked two men in dark business suits.

“Are you the owners of this store?” one of the men asked.

“Yes, but we’re fixing to close for the night. What can I do for you?” Ed asked.

“We’re here to ask you for some information. Have you recently been in contact with some foreign nationals?”

“Well now,” Ed drawled, stalling for time but not really understanding why, “let’s see, now. Foreign, you say. What kind of foreigners are you talking about? We do get a lot of visitors in here.”

“Suppose you tell us, Mr. Gentry,” the man said, not unpleasant in his tone. “How many foreign visitors do you get out here?”

“We had some folks from Italy visiting the Everetts not long ago, but that was some time ago.” He could see past the two men. Through the front screen door of the feed store he saw Glendon’s white truck silently pushed out of its parking place toward the street. He heard the engine turn over a split second before the blast of an approaching freight train on the nearby tracks sounded, and the truck took off down the road.

“We’re interested in someone possibly from England settling in around here,” said one of the dark-suited men.

“Oh, yeah, there’s a couple of folks around here. There’s a boy that comes in to do odd jobs for me, you know, just for spending money. Real pleasant fellow, real polite.”

“Know where he lives?”

“No, no, can’t say that I do for sure.” Ed Gentry was his usual friendly smiling self, his homey manner easily answering the questions even as he felt the sweat trickle down his backside under his plaid shirt.

“But he works for you; you don’t know where he lives?”

“Oh! I thought you meant where he’s from! He lives down to the old Sheldon ranch.”

“And how much did you pay him for his work?”

“I paid him a dollar an hour but it was just a token. Boy, could he work!”

“A dollar an hour? Can you tell me how he was able to afford new appliances and furnishings his family reportedly bought from the local stores?”

“Well, I don’t know but they all seemed like real regal folks. I imagine they got money from back wherever it is they come from. He just came in because he’s a young man and he was bored, I think. Really proper boy, he didn’t care for all the frippy little girls who hung around him, at all.”

“He had a wife back home,” Margie added. “He sure missed her a lot. They planned on going back home.”

Glendon drove the white pickup down the road at as fast a clip as he could safely manage, passing under Darien’s Naughty Boy in the deepening twilight. Darien looked ahead and saw the men walking out to their car from the feed store. He waited until their car headed in the opposite direction of the ranch before he landed the Naughty Boy outside the Gentry’s store back door. Margie was getting ready to lock up and peered out the back screen.

“Oh! You startled me!” She gasped and laughed, then gasped again. Darien’s yellow eyes glowed in the dusk.

“Thank you for all your help, Lady Gentry,” Darien told her quietly. “We are a peace-loving people seeking rest and succor on our journey. Your kindness will surely be returned to you tenfold.”

“We don’t want any trouble,” said a voice beside him. It was Ed Gentry, and he held a shotgun to Darien’s head. He had quietly come out the side door and crept up on the Thuringi.

“Neither do we,” Darien replied, keeping his hands so Ed could see that he held no weapons.

“What did those men want with you folks?” Ed asked nervously.

“They seek to do no good,” Darien said. “They fear that which they do not understand.”

“Are you folks spies or something?”

“No. We are simply homeless people persecuted for our particular knowledge and abilities. We were seeking aid from your President Kennedy and when he was slain, we fear we will be persecuted once again by certain factions of his government. He was our protector, you see, and they will be after us.”

“Where are you from, really?”

“From a world ravaged by war and overrun by parasites,” Darien told him. “Lord Gentry, have Glendon or I ever caused you concern?”

Ed lowered his gun a little. “No, you haven’t.”

“Do you trust what others tell you, or what your heart tells you?”

“I trust my heart. Why were those men looking for Glendon?” Margie asked.

“I could not say as to their motives,” Darien replied, “but Glendon is not a man for you to fear.” He bowed to her and Ed. “Trust me, good people. We come in peace.” He turned to his ship and quickly got in. In their excitement at his unexpected appearance, they had not even noticed the ship in the back lot. To the astonishment of the onlooking Earthians, the Naughty Boy vertically rose before them and darted away into the night sky.

“Damn it, I knew it!” Ed declared, slapping his leg with his hat. “I knew the minute I saw their yellow eyes!”

“Don’t you say a word,” Margie told him, her eyes on the disappearing lights of the Naughty Boy overhead. “They wouldn't harm a fly.”

By the time the government men were finally able to find someone willing to talk about the Thuringi and locate the Sheldon ranch, there was no trace of the mysterious strangers with yellow eyes. The barn doors were wide open, but its inside was devoid of anything. The house showed signs of habitation, but other than a television aerial still atop the roof and indication that furniture had been in place in the rooms, there was little physical evidence. The oddest thing they noticed were the piles of sand all along the floorboards all over the house.

The information they got from the people of Iron Post wildly varied. They were homeless bums or deposed royalty, happy-go-lucky or tragic figures. They had passports or lost them or were new citizens or tools of the Devil himself. But not one citizen in Iron Post ever saw anything flying out at the Sheldon ranch. The harvest was over, and the garden had long been turned over to rest for the winter, and peace settled over the pastureland like a comforting blanket, giving no hint of alien visitors or mysterious ships.

Darien and Glendon left in the Naughty Boy with the pickup suspended under the ship as they winged their way to New Thuringa. The pickup was loaded down with the last items from the ranch, and they were thankful for the cover of darkness.

“Will they bring harm to Michael?” Glendon wondered aloud.

“He ought to be able to claim he was tricked by a sad story from a band of liars,” Darien said although doubt tickled his thoughts. “I would.”

They reached the Isle of New Thuringa without incident and ate a brief dinner of grilled fish and opened coconuts to nibble on the white meat for a post-dinner treat. For a time, the six scouts sat in dejected silence in the bed of the pickup and listened to the waves rush against the sandy shore. "We are once again forced to flee our home," Gareth sighed at length. “How long will it take to reach Farcourt, and will we be permanent there?”

“It may take some time, but the effort will be worth it,” Stuart said. “We must stay positive.”

A glint came to Brent's eyes and developed into a full-blown twinkle. He trotted off to a small tide pool where he removed an unopened wine bottle from the cooling water. He returned to his five companions. "We have been thrown from more than a few cantinas too, have we not? That never stopped our thirsts!" He poured the wine into halved coconuts as the others' spirits brightened. "Now then my lads and lady, let us drink to the future and what we will make of it!"

END OF BOOK ONE

Glossary

Arne - the former capital city of Thuringa

Atest (uh-TEST) - Thuringi church service

Audecer fallen botay (AW-day-sare FA-len bo-TAY) - literally, "Just try to top that!"

Bauni (BAH-nee) – Thuringi Remembrance Day

Beran – large furry animal, fierce

Bran Fitt (brawn feet)– respiration disease

Brent – literally, "powerful stroke"

Brenton – a noxious Thelan weed, similar to ragweed

Burillier (Boo-RIL-ier )– portable Thuringi medical diagnostic tool

Cabrett (ka-BRET) – cow of Thelan origin

Chesser – a pig of Thelan origin

Chumpet – flat Hunda wizzar drink

Cootoon – Thuringi flute

Crita von (KREE-tah vahn)- Shargassi term; literally, "where do you dwell?"

Dakarte istay (da-KAR-tay IS-tay)– literally, "you filthy fucker!"

Dallah (DOLL-a) - Thuringi dog, similar to a short-haired retriever

Dolo – Thuringi pearl

Dorea – large, strong, tough Thuringi trees

Ersanta Vorassi – "time of enlightenment" (Thuringi honeymoon)

Fiday – Thuringi xylophone

Friak – (FREE-awk) Thuringi potato, staple food

Forid – a tiny Thuringi frog

Fortrude – Thuringi fish, like a tuna

Gaff – a thick sturdy Thuringi tree, widely used in landscaping. Diamond-shaped leaves

Gakki (GAK-ee) – horse with a horn in its forehead, found on many worlds

Gallina (gal-EE-nah) - a grand seaport city on old Thuringa

Ginta (ginn-TAH) - a nine-day week

Illick charranay - literally, "he is a fool who would hesitate at such bounty" or "I am an opportunist"

Istay – an unwelcome individual with suspicious motives

Kila - a small daggar

Luket (loo-KET) - a nourishing milk-like substance from the pushkas plant

Melator - Thuringi piano

Naradi (na-RAH-dee) - Thuringi law enforcement; police

Naradi Famede (na-RAH-dee fa-ME-day) – royal palace guard

Nobi – Borelliat domesticated birds, or chickens

Parmenta (PAR-men-Tah) – Thuringi barracuda/piranha

Pienna (pee-IN-uh) – “sour face” a Thuringi fish

Poddack (POD-dack) - Thuringi daily school system for ages 5 to 18

Pushkas – plant that produces luket

Quasch (kwaw-shh) - a wrestling match

Shargassi (SHAR-gah-Say) - enemies of Thuringa

Skit – a decorative shrub

Stack – gakki foal

Tarinade - (TARE-en-Aid) - banned Thuringi sex manual with poetry and illustrations

Tiff – Pleonian flax plant used for making flexible armor

Vaguno (va-GOO-no) - sandy soil of Thuringa favored for grain crops

Ver hirum caute (ver HE-room CO-tay) - literally, "is this real?"

Vita Kanerra - a well respected book of romantic Thuringi poetry

Wegodgoe (WEE-god-go) - Thuringi for an enthusiastic sexual encounter

Wizzar - sweet fizzy non-alcoholic drink

Yeep - a proper person's usual response to a startling or embarrassing situation

Yjass (yass) – passion