Chapter 18

Buck had no idea how long he'd been locked up in that tiny cubicle of a cell. The cell was pitch black with perfectly smooth walls. From one end of the cell to the other took him four steps. The other walls were three steps away. He had tried to jump for the ceiling, but had not found it. He had found nothing else in the cell at all. It was completely barren except for him. After feeling every inch of the wall at least three times for some evidence of a seam or anything that he could use to escape, he gave up and sat down on the cold, hard, metallic floor. He had been there so long, that eventually he fell asleep in the same position he had sat down in. However at some point during his sleep, he had fallen over. That was the position he found himself in when at last a noise sounded outside the door, wherever the door was. He tried to scramble to his feet, but the act of standing up so swiftly made him dizzy and he banged his head off the wall.

A section of wall rose in an instant allowing light from the corridor to flood into the room. Buck tried to raise his hand to block the light but was too slow. He felt hands spin him around and slam his face into the wall. Then his own hands were quickly bound behind his back again. Finally he was led into the corridor and forced to walk. It took about two minutes for his eyes to finally adjust to the difference in light. He was led down a maze of corridors for several minutes before finally stopping at a door. One of the soldiers tapped a button on the side of the door. It slid open and Buck was led inside.

"Buck!"

He turned to see Wilma sitting on a couch near the right side wall. The soldier undid Buck's handcuffs and then quickly disappeared out the door. He rubbed his wrists as he slowly walked toward the couch and inspected the room with his eyes.

"Wilma, what's going on?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"I don't know. I just got here myself."

"Do you know where 'here' is?"
"That would be my personal quarters," bellowed a deep voice from the front of the room. They looked around momentarily until they saw the source. The large, rotund figure stepped into the lavishly decorated room from an adjoining annex.

"Who are you?" Buck demanded.

"Such manners," he scolded. "Is that any way to treat your host? Especially when I am the one who saved your lives?"

"How did you save our lives?" Wilma asked.

"I had my captain rescue you and your ship before we ran into you and totally demolished your puny craft. After all, a ship this size simply does not have an exceptional turning radius. I suppose it's one of the problems with having a ship so large."

"Do you throw all of your rescued space farers in jail?" Buck pondered.

The man bellowed with laughter. "I like you. You have a quality that is sorely lacking in a lot of men."

"And what quality is that?"
"You don't scare easily. And you don't take any bledam."

Buck cocked his head. "What is bledam?"

The man bellowed again. "It's a Gaussian word. It means… oh, it doesn't matter what it means. It means I like you."

"My dad always told me I had moxie."

"What is 'moxie'?"

"Spunk. Kahunas."

"Ahh, that word I do know."

"You do?"
"Certainly. I have been studying your world for quite some time."

"You have?"
The man walked slowly toward them and then gently eased into the lounge chair directly across from the couch. "Oh, yes. I always observe and study the worlds I have targeted for conquest."

"Conquest? What kind of conquest?"
The large man simply smiled. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Minister Turon of the planet Gauss. Ever hear of it?"

Buck shook his head. "I don't get out much."

"Yes, of course. So, if you don't mind my asking, how long have you been in your spaceship?"

"Three days," Wilma spoke up.

"Three days. It took you three days to get here from your planet?"

Buck nodded.

"Do you know how far this ship can travel in three days?"

"We're kind of new to space travel," Buck explained. "But that doesn't mean that we're unprotected."

Minister Turon smiled again. "And what kind of protection do you rely upon?"

Buck remained silent.

"Do you think I am interrogating you? Far from it. I am here to entertain you." He clapped his hands three times and half a dozen women came rushing into the room. Two of them carried plates of food, two carried drinks, and the other two simply began to dance to the music that had suddenly appeared. "Please try the green fruit. It is native to Gauss, but I'm told you have a fruit on Earth that's very similar: a kiwi?"

"Nice music," Buck complimented. "Do you have any Whitesnake?"
"What is 'Whitesnake'? I do not believe I have ever heard of that kind of music."

The women placed the food on the small table separating the couch from the lounge chair. Buck and Wilma looked at the food, but instead sat back in the couch. Minister Turon noticed the mistrust.

"Aren't you hungry? I was told that you've been locked up for three days. You must be hungry and thirsty by now. Or is it that you think… Oh, that's it! You think the food has been poisoned!" Once again he bellowed in laughter. He leaned forward and took a less than modest portion of the food and immediately began to eat. "Oh, that's fine. If you don't want to eat, I wouldn't want the food to go to waste."
"I don't think that's going to happen," Buck muttered inaudibly.

"What was that?"
Buck reached for the plate. "If you insist."

"Minister Turon," Wilma started. "Why have you targeted Earth for conquest?"
He shook his head. "I am sorry. I never mix business with pleasure." He placed a big hunk of meat into his mouth. "And right now I am in the middle of pleasure. Business will have to wait. Come, eat, drink, and be merry!"

"For tomorrow ye die?" Buck asked.

Turon merely smirked slightly. "That's up to you, my dear Captain."

Two hours of food, drink, and Gaussian rock and roll later, the room had died down again to just Buck, Wilma, and the Minister. He laughed as he turned to Wilma.

"Now we can talk business. What was your question again?"
"I mean no disrespect, Minister, but why have you targeted Earth for conquest?"

The minister leaned back in his chair, propped his feet against the table that had only recently held a generous amount of food. "Because it's there and because I can."

"But we are a peaceful people. We pose no threat to you or the rest of the civilizations in the galaxy."

"How do you know there are other civilizations in the galaxy?"

Wilma didn't even blink. "We're here and you're here. That can't be everyone."

He smiled at Buck. "I like her, too. She has… moxie! Kahunas!"

"That she does," he admitted.

"No, seriously? Why attack Earth?"

Minister folded his arms. "You say you are a peaceful people? Then how do you explain World War 2, World War 1, the Bolshevik Revolution, Viet Nam, Korea, the Cuban Missile Crisis, terrorist bombings, your country's use of nuclear weapons? Shall I continue?"
"Misunderstandings," Buck said.

"I call it the idiocy of humanity," Minister argued. "Even now there are two nations on your so-called peaceful world that are poised and prepared to annihilate each other and everyone else on your planet, is there not? I believe they are called the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialists Republics. Oh, and don't forget the People's Republic of China. I know I wouldn't, if I lived on your world."

Buck lowered his eyes for only a brief moment. "I will admit that our world is not paradise. But it is home to six billion people, many of whom I know and love. I am under the belief that, yes we're not perfect and never will be, but this is our world and nobody else's. We all make mistakes and sometimes those mistakes kill people. But we are not prepared to hand over the Earth to someone who has no claim to it."

"I have a better scenario for you. What if I could promise you no more wars on your planet Earth."

"And how do you propose on doing that?" Wilma asked.

Minister nodded arrogantly. "I consider myself a humanitarian. I find worlds that live under constant strife, very similar to your own. I send in my people and within days, or a week at the most, all that strife has been eliminated."

"How do you manage that?" Wilma asked.

Buck's head dropped forward. He looked up at the minister. "You annihilate the indigenous population."

"Your planet is a prime candidate for my restoration. Are you a gardener, Captain?"

"I do some gardening."

"I pose a scenario. You have a beautiful rose garden, the best in the nation. You have won awards for your garden. What do you do if you have a rose with a terrible blight, one that cannot be cured?"

"You dig it out of the garden," Buck replied.

"Exactly! That is what I am doing. The planet Earth is a beautiful rose garden, one of the finest in the galaxy. But it has a blight. So I need to eliminate the blight so the rest of the garden can shine."

"But you're assuming one thing that I'm not willing to concede."

"And what is that?"
"In your scenario, you mentioned a blight that was incurable. I don't believe that's the case. Humans can learn to live together in harmony. All we need is some time."

"Unfortunately, Captain, time is not a luxury you or your planet enjoys."

Buck glared at him. "And who made you judge, jury, and executioner?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"Come, Captain. Your own history is full of stories, is it not? How the strong conquer the weak? I will take my place in human history among them, with one exception. I will be the last one to be on that list. What is it, Captain? Do you want to hit me? Strangle me? Kill me? What's stopping you? I am outnumbered two to one, after all. By the time my personal guard get here, I could be dead."

Minister Turon sat up in the chair. He reached into a pocket of his outfit and produced a small pistol. He placed the pistol on the table and slid it toward Buck. Buck picked it up, glanced up at the minister. Instead of firing the pistol, he leaned back in the couch and tossed it back toward the minister. Just before it hit the large man, a brief flash of blue lit up around the minister. The gun bounced off the personal force field and fell harmlessly to the floor. Almost instantly six heavily armed soldiers barged into the room with their weapons ready to shoot.

"How did you know, Captain?"
"Nobody is that secure unless he's got something up his sleeve," he said as he rose to his feet slowly. "In your case, it's a big sleeve. You know I'm going to try to stop you."

The big man bellowed one last time before the soldiers led Buck and Wilma back to their cells. "I wouldn't expect anything less of a soldier. Good night, Captain. We will speak one more time before I destroy you and everyone you ever knew. Oh, and have a good night's sleep. Sleep is healthy for the body and the soul. And if you don't have your health, what do you have?" he hollered as Buck and Wilma were led into the corridor.