Prologue

Michael Kiley sat in the exam room. As a fairly advanced victim of Parkinson's disease, he knew he did not have long. A year? Six months? he thought. His tremors had continued to worsen, as speech became more difficult. Aside from the health aide who came a few times a week, and the doctor he was about to see, he had nobody in his life. If it were not for them, he might have welcomed death.

He was awoken from his thoughts by a knock on the door. "Come in," said Mike.

A man who appeared to be in his late forties entered. "Hello Mike," greeted Mike's Neurologist, Dr. Marcus.

"Hi," stated Mike, keeping his answers short, reflecting his difficulty speaking.

"I see from my notes that the new meds are not having the desired effect."

"No."

Dr. Marcus shook his head. "I was worried that would be the case," he said, before pausing with a pensive look in his eyes. "Mike, I'm going to be frank with you. There is a way that I can save your life, but I have to have your word that you'll tell no one."

"Of ... course ... a ... new ... trial med?" stuttered Mike.

"No. You'll think me crazy at first, but I'm hoping that you'll agree to a little proposition I have for you."

Mike sat and listened to the doctor's confession. After hearing it, he agreed with the doctor's self-assessment: The doctor was crazy.

Doctor Alvin Marcus was regarded as one of the world's foremost neurologists. He had developed, or at least been involved in developing a number of treatments for various neurological conditions. Now this famous doctor was telling his apparently favorite patient that he was a space alien. He was also telling him that humanity was in danger of being totally eradicated and Marcus was its sole staunch defender. While he considered the notion preposterous, Mike wanted to get to the bottom of what Marcus was telling him. "If true ... why ... defend usssss?" slurred the patient.

"Because I've lived among your kind for forty years. Yes, your race can be barbaric and indifferent to the plight of its own, but your kind has its accomplishments and has the potential to accomplish so much more," he said before pausing, "It's hard for me to be objective because I've formed attachments to many of your kind, including you, Mike."

"Me?"

"Yes, my friend. In the two years I've known you, you've handled your condition with the grace and poise, yet determination that represent the best of humanity. I've also made other friends and should I add ... closer acquaintances."

"That's ... right ... You're ... married."

"Yes. There are also four other women in my life."

"Fu ... four?!" stammered Mike.

"Yes. There's my nurse, my receptionist, a doctor at a hospital I have privileges at and a neighbor whose husband had left her. They make up my harem, so to speak."

"Harem?!"

"Yes. All of the ladies live with me and my wife. Look, Mike. I'm going to do a couple of things to make it easier for us to discuss this," stated Alvin, as he waved his arm and Mike felt calmness come over him. "There. I just made it impossible for you not to trust me," he smiled.

Mike smiled back. "You're ... my doctor ... trust you..."

"I know, but now you'll believe my story too."

Mike thought. Yes, just moments ago, he thought his doctor was having a stroke causing him to weave what had seemed to be a ridiculous story, but now, for some reason, it had the ring of truth. Dr. Marcus had a sense of conviction and earnestness. He was also deeply touched that the doctor had considered him to be a friend. Mike did not have many of those these days. Most of his friends had deserted the sinking ship with his wife when they had divorced eight years ago. This was before the Parkinson's diagnosis, when his irritability, violent mood swings, and "shaking rage" had scared his ex-wife. In fairness to her, when she had heard about his condition, she had extended the olive branch, but Mike had never forgiven her for remarrying before learning the truth. "I believe," he stated.

"I know. Now let's make it easier to communicate," said the doctor, as he waved his other arm.

Mike felt energy burst through him. "What the hell?!" he exclaimed. "I'm not shaking! I can talk!"

"The fix is temporary ... just to reinforce your trust and help our ability to communicate."

"Now, what's this about aliens wanting to destroy the world?"

"Not the world, Mike. They want to destroy humanity. 'The Consortium of Worlds' has declared your race destructive to your world. Your people have a history of depleting a great deal of your planets resources, without really endeavoring to replace or repair what they consume or destroy. As I explained earlier, your race was seeded on your planet a number of millennia ago. You evolved from various stages to the Homo-sapiens you are today. Now, you've been judged and sentenced to eradication."

"Are we presumed to be a threat?"

"By some, who believe in the future you may be. Most don't, and by and large, just want to be done with you so they can eventually reseed your planet with a different race or species."

Mike shook his head.

"What?" asked Alvin.

"You keep saying 'you' referring to humans, but you look so much like us."

"I have altered my form to fit in, but I must confess that 'being human' has been the most rewarding experience of my existence."

"Then why wipe us out?"

Chapter 1 »