Sam came in for a leisurely breakfast on Saturday morning with the four authors. Heather was back in jeans and a t-shirt, puttering around the kitchen to help Maria. The authors glanced at the teenage girl repeatedly, and when they sat down with the general to eat, she joined them.
“You wear many hats, young lady,” Doctor Po-tirel commented, smiling.
“Are you really going to pay the publisher a hundred thousand for publicity as soon as we sign a contract?”
Heather swallowed a bite of scrambled eggs. “Already got a cashier’s check, as I have a hunch your editor is going to get things moving very quickly.”
“It is so strange not even knowing your name.”
“You can call me Heather. It’s just a handle for use around here.”
“Well, thank you, Heather. Our dream of publication is coming true almost faster than we can . . . run along behind!”
The other three authors laughed and continued enjoying their breakfast.
By mid-morning, the four guests were in General Bo-seklin’s office with the door closed.
“I don’t believe it!” Doctor Bo-tora spat out. “It’s just not how things are done!”
Sam considered his response. “I agree. Does that mean you are going to turn down the offer of publication and the publicity fund of a million plus?”
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The scientist was suddenly silent.
“Perhaps . . .” Professor Ma-zolen began thoughtfully, “. . . if there was some way to reassure us that this . . . fund . . . actually exists . . .”
The general sighed. “Heather already anticipated that you would be skeptical . . . and she told me which of you.”
The two men looked slightly ashamed, but still defiant.
General Bo-seklin opened an envelope and placed the cashier’s check face-up for them to see.
“And how do we know this is real?” Doctor Bo-tora questioned.
The general looked up sharply. “I was with her at the bank when she got it, yesterday afternoon, after the meeting with the chief editor.”
“We apologize,” Donella Po-tirel said with warning glances at her colleagues. “This is just all so . . . unusual.”
“Your book is unusual,” Sam pointed out as he slipped the check back into its envelope. “This moment in history is unusual. The collapse your models predict . . . and that our research verifies, will only threaten the human race once, God willing. There is nothing routine about this entire situation. If you wanted a routine publishing experience, you should have written a different book.”
The authors took deep breaths to settle themselves.
“So,” General Bo-seklin began, changing the subject, “why don’t we go over to the air base, switch to a comfortable van with windows, and go see some of the sights of this fair city of ours? It’s springtime, and some of the public gardens are gorgeous this time of year . . .”
Heather spent most of Saturday and Sunday skating, hiking, kissing Brian, and talking with Susan about all her recent frustrations. She admitted, sometime Sunday afternoon, that as passionate as she was about the publication of this book, she was really looking forward to the authors getting on their planes and going home.
It was a very good thing she was relaxed and refreshed by Monday morning, because Generals Bo-seklin and Ko-fenral both needed her.
“You were right, Heather,” Sam said from behind his desk as he continued scanning the type-written sheets of paper. “That chief editor must have
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jumped right on this and worked all day Saturday. The envelope arrived at the air base yesterday by courier, and came in the mail pouch with the first transport this morning.”
The two generals finished with the parts they were reading, then swapped.
“I’m not surprised,” she said softly. “They’re going to make lots of money.”
Sam pressed his intercom button. “Sarah, please get a lawyer from the base, someone who knows publishing contracts. Eleven hundred today.”
“Yes, Sir,” her voice said.
“I don’t see anything else to worry about, Malcolm,” Sam said. “Do you?”
“No. It’s actually a very nice contract, from the authors’ point of view.”
Sam lowered the papers he was holding and took a slow breath. “We asked you in here, Heather, to share some of your seemingly-unlimited courage with us.”
She smiled, but was still in the dark about their concern.
“The publisher wants at least six professors from the team who are willing to give glowing endorsements of the book — for print, radio, and television.”
She nodded. “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of volunteers. They all know what they can and can’t say.”
“I’m not worried about that,” Sam assured. “They also want at least two generals willing to do unscripted, spontaneous, televised interviews. It’s not an option. No generals, no publishing contract.”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“Now you see why we need some of your courage?” Malcolm asked.
Heather nodded. “That would scare anyone.”
“So,” Sam began, “please tell us how you found the nerve to give all your money to this one little book.”
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a long moment. “From the life memories of our nameless future psychologist, I seemed to have gained a sense of how history works. Ideas that change the world form around seeds.
Those seeds are often speeches, but in modern times, books can also do the trick.
“There are still pieces of the puzzle I can’t imagine — steps that must be taken to get knowledge of the approaching danger from our team, to the world. But the seed is still necessary, even if we can’t see how it will grow. My
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intuition tells me this book is that seed. It certainly would have been, in the future I know, but was discovered by the world too late. It needed thirty more years, the thirty years we can give it.
“My courage comes, I guess, from knowing what will happen if I don’t do
. . . what I must do. Nothing else matters. I have a purpose, and when you have a purpose, you don’t get a life. You don’t get all the other things most people think they’re entitled to — school, career, marriage, family. If you’re lucky, maybe you can grab a little bit along the way, like I do with Brian. But you’re always on history’s sacrificial altar, ready for the ceremonial knife to come down.
“But running away is for little people. God doesn’t choose little people for purposes like this. Neither of you are little people, either, or you wouldn’t have put your reputations on the line for this team, and learned all the things I taught you, and the professors taught you, over the last seven years.”
She fell silent.
The two generals just breathed for a minute.
“Also, a good, hearty breakfast can really help with courage,” she added with a grin.
Sam looked at her, smiled, and rose from his desk. “But you’re leading the meeting.”
She squinted for a moment, then smiled and nodded.
“Good morning, everyone. Now that our guests know me a bit, the generals and I decided it was safe to lead my team again.” She smiled at the four authors in the front row.
Three of them smiled back.
“But I must say, Sam did a very good job last Friday.”
Most of the team professors clapped, and several military people and Donella Po-tirel joined in.
Heather could see General Bo-seklin blushing.
She looked at the authors again. “Today, I believe, is a very important day in the history of human civilization. Today, after a short and easy meeting, we will hand the authors of this great book the publishing contract that was received in the mail this morning. A lawyer will be here at eleven to help them
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spot anything shady in the wording, and Sam and Malcolm have agreed to do their part for the book’s publicity. The contract also calls for a few professors from the team to endorse the book in writing, audio, and video . . .”
More than a dozen hands shot into the air.
“I didn’t think we’d have any trouble with that. Have you got those, Sarah?”
Colonel Ma-soran was frantically scribbling names. “Almost . . . there.”
“Thank you, everyone. Someone once said, Stick with the truth, and you will have help beyond your imagination. Sorry, I can’t remember who. You four authors did that, even knowing it would probably make you enemies. All important truths have that same burden.
“Now you have help, because now is the time for this book to be placed in the hands of millions of people all over the world. And, yes, a few of them will hate you for it. If things get too ugly, you can always come and hide here.”
The entire team chuckled or smiled.
Doctor Po-tirel raised her hand. “We were wondering why security was so tight here. I think we understand now.”
Heather smiled. “There are several reasons for that, but doing what needs to be done, without interruption, is certainly one of them.”
She paused, glanced at the clock, and looked at the authors again. “It’s almost ten o’clock. That gives you an hour to study the contract before the lawyer arrives, and another hour to hear his opinions, before lunch. Your transport leaves for the airport at two o’clock.”
She looked around the room. “Alpha Team, Beta Team, and everyone else, thank you for coming in today. Sometimes history-making events must cut into vacation time a little.”
Her team grinned back at her.
“Everyone is welcome to stay and chat, have lunch, and see our guests off.
Sam?”
General Bo-seklin stood. “Generals and colonels at fourteen hundred. The full team meets again next Monday at the usual time, and if all goes well today, we’ll begin talking about our relationship with the publisher.”
Heather
nodded.
Finally, Sam took the large envelope from his chair and approached the
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four authors. They rose, and he placed the envelope in William Ko-poran’s hands.
All four bowed slightly, then retreated to the privacy of the large safe-house sleeping room.
None of the team members left.
Some lounged in the meeting area, or sipped tea in the dining room, while discussing light topics or ideas for endorsing and promoting the book.
With Lisa’s permission, a few crept into the bomb shelter so they could speak freely on any topic.
Heather floated from place to place, and noticed Susan listening to General Ko-fenral’s fears and frustrations in a corner of the dining room.
The lawyer from the air base arrived and was shown to the sleeping room where the authors continued to study the publishing contract.
At noon, Maria provided a hearty spread of sandwich makings and homemade soups that everyone enjoyed.
Finally, after spending another half hour in privacy, the four authors emerged from their rooms with their bags packed and the contract signed.
In the middle of the large meeting room, with the entire team standing around them as witnesses, General Bo-seklin received the precious envelope and promised its delivery, along with the cashier’s check, to the chief editor of Po Publications, in person, that very afternoon.
Many handshakes and some embraces were shared, security people carried the authors’ luggage downstairs, and with some reluctance, the four authors followed.
Heather sighed deeply and melted into Susan’s embrace.
Knowing the book publishing contract was signed and in good hands, the team members finally felt free to return to the air base, the University, or their homes.
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Part 4: Ko-tera Three, 3670