Part Six

Aaron had far more to worry about than murderous robots. Adam Marshall had decided to make him a target, a campaign issue. Worse, the change in his tactics had resulted in an increase of Marshall's popularity, so the politician wasn't likely to quit using Malak as a target. That his popularity had already peaked thanks to the change attracting only the relatively small anti-empowered segment didn't seem to occur to him. Or, if it did, he thought that the majority of people were at most neutral on the empowered (a reasonable assumption) and could be persuaded to change (an unreasonable one).

"I didn't vote for Malak," said Marshall, typically, at his rallies. "Did you vote for him? Yet he dares to declare what is moral and what isn't! For all of us! To negotiate with foreign powers - many of them hostile to America - on his own authority! He is making national policy and does not hold any office! This man needs to be in jail!"

There were variations on this theme. However, the gist was that the private, peacemaking activities of Aaron/Malak were not only somehow illegal, but harmful to the United States.

Aaron began working to arrange a meeting with Marshall, with the goal and hope of reaching an accord, or at least a cease-fire. At first he had no success contacting the man. Even once he did, Marshall always seemed to have an objection to some part of what Aaron offered. The empowered man soon realized that Marshall's biggest concern in regard to such meetings seemed to be that he should never be alone with Aaron. Aaron therefore put forward the option that the politician engage him in a moderated debate on 3V. This suggestion was also soundly rejected. Aaron, himself, was bit relieved at this refusal, since the only sponsors he could find were all either empowered "reality" shows or products which were prominently touted by empowered shills. Meanwhile, Marshall publicly denounced Malak as a coward for not responding to his accusations.

The eventual meeting which both parties finally agreed on turned out to be between Malak on one side with Marshall and five of his assistants on the other. This was held in the private conference room of a business owned by one of Marshall's backers. One condition was that Malak be the one attending; not Aaron. The empowered man wondered if Marshall even knew about his base form, though that was the one he used for the negotiations. Of course, he never dealt with Marshall, himself, during these, but with is subordinates.

The discussion did not go well. The politician was completely unrepentant and unwilling to compromise. There was no actual negotiation, no yielding by Marshall. Only accusations from the politician.

"I'm a consultant," said Malak, after Marshall repeated some of his political speech allegations as an opener. "I don't do any negotiation. I help others negotiate."

"That's still illegal! You should be in jail!"

"Then why don't you prefer charges?" said Malak, trying not to be angry at the man and mostly succeeding. "You are completely skipping arrest, trial and verdict and simply declaring that I should be punished. Even the President doesn't have such authority. Haven't you ever heard of innocent until proven guilty?"

"You don't get the benefit of the doubt! You're too dangerous and have done too much damage!"

Malak finally, in exasperation, tried to make the man realize just how much he contributed to the world's current level of relative peace.

"What if I just don't do these things anymore? What if, when approached by someone needing help, I just... decline and fly away?"

"There is no place on Earth beyond our reach!" declared Marshall, missing the point, perhaps deliberately.

"What about off the Earth? I've been to the Moon. I could probably live indefinitely on Mars. At the risk of sounding egotistical, what would you - meaning the collective 'you' - do without me? Especially once I explained to those who would no longer have my services what individual had driven me away."

Marshall opened his mouth... and froze.

"I know how to build a stardrive," Malak continued, his tone a bit wistful. "I could go join my friends at Delta Pavonis."

Seeing the look of confusion now on Marshall's face, Malak explained.

"That's another star system, several light years away."

"You think you can threaten me?!" said Marshall, obviously very angry.

"I can see that this discussion is useless," said Malak, tiredly. "You're an offense thief; you take offense where none is offered."

Despite Marshall's protests - and the intent and efforts of both his assistants and building security - Malak rose and left. He simply wasn't there when someone tried to stop him.

* * *

That evening Marshall's people released a transcript of the meeting, with strategic redactions to make Malak look as bad as possible.

"I'm sorry if my advice backfired," said Melody, when she spoke with Aaron over the phone the next day. "I didn't mean for you to have so much trouble sent your way, trying to follow it."

"Your advice didn't cause this. The offensive was already in progress even before I planned my press conference. Things like that automaton take time to prepare. As well, people like Marshall are always lurking, waiting for a target."

"Would you really leave?"

"No. You know that. There's too much to do which doesn't involve Marshall or these attacks," said Aaron. He sighed. "Of course, that doesn't mean he won't involve himself..."

"I'm glad you're staying. Remember, most of us don't have the option to just leave the Earth," said Melody, concerned that her friend was not taking the threat the politician posed seriously. "The problem is, Marshall has a lot of support, at least in some quarters."

"That's just all part of the latest 'War on Whatever,'" said Aaron, calmly. "I can wait them out."

"Sometimes I think you are too patient," said Melody.

* * *

Aaron's home phone rang a few days later. He answered - barely beating Coral - and was surprised to hear the Mayor's voice.

"You have a visitor from Libya at your office. He seems very angry."

Aaron sighed, and decided not to keep this visitor waiting. He quickly walked the relatively short distant to his official office, to find a fancy rental car, complete with chauffeur, illegally parked in front of the small building, which was beside Haven's City Hall. Inside, a man - who was presumably the Libyan visitor - was impatiently pacing just beyond the entrance.

"Hello. I'm Aaron LaBelle. Also known as Malak. How can I help you?"

"You could actually be at your office during normal working hours!" said the man.

"I don't have 'normal working hours,'" said Aaron, mildly. "That's why the sign on the door gives information on how to contact someone in the courthouse if you have urgent business."

"Stop making excuses! I'm here about the reparations!"

"For what?"

"The complete destruction of our port at Tripoli!"

"I heard about that. The destruction was far from complete. As I understand the situation, a warehouse full of..."

"It was stable until you attacked it!"

"I've never been to Tripoli," said Aaron, flatly. He silently added, Neither have any of my duplicates.

"Don't dissemble. We both know you can send your spears around the globe if you want."

Actually, while he had considerable range with his spears, that was far beyond his capabilities. He did not tell this to the visitor.

Aaron tried addressing the Libyan representative in the common language of the country, but the man insisted on speaking English. To be fair, he was quite accomplished in the tongue. Unfortunately, his attitude was very hostile. He repeated his earlier intent, with variations.

"I know of that explosion, as I mentioned," said Aaron, when he could finally get a word in. "The objective analysis is that it was either an accident due to improper storage, or sabotage. Those currently claiming to rule Libya have many enemies, including from inside the country."

"We know you are responsible! We demand compensation and an apology for the destruction of our port facilities!"

Aaron noticed that he made no mention of the workers killed. Or of those people living in the neighborhoods beyond.

"Then speak with whoever was responsible for that."

"You are responsible! None of your dissembling or sophistry change that!"

"Why would I do such a thing?" said Aaron, reasonably.

"You're well known to be anti-Libyan!"

"Which is incorrect. I have nothing against Libya. Only against death camps."

"There are no death camps in Libya!"

"Not anymore."

This last was said mildly, but with a look directly into the eyes of the visitor, and there was an iron core behind the remark. Which was Aaron's way of reminding the man that Malak and his people had simply... removed the worst of those camps from his country, seemingly without effort. The attention this brought from the international community had meant that the rest of the death camps in that fractured nation had been quickly emptied and the people in them allowed to emigrate. Though the nation's government still denied that the camps had existed.

"We... we insist on compensation! From you!"

"You won't get it. I am not responsible, and don't have that kind of money, anyway."

"You will pay! One way or another!"

With that he stormed out of the small building.

* * *

The next day, for a change Aaron called Melody and requested that she come to Haven. Blackpool was happy to help her, knowing that the Libyan representative had visited and wanting to learn more. Especially given that Aaron/Malak was these days not often at the chemical depository Blackpool managed. For her part, Melody had the feeling that Aaron needed some reassurance given the recent events with the Libyans and the continuing attacks against him. Considering what he had done for her, Melody was quite willing to help him.

For this visit Mrs. Cora Johansson was not present at Aaron's home. A casual inquiry resulted in Aaron reporting that the widow had the day off. Melody was actually a bit relieved to learn that Cora would not be there. This time several cats wandered in and out during the reporter's visit.

"So do you think being blamed for the damage at Tripoli is part of the larger effort against you?" said Aaron's guest, as she settled onto one of the two facing couches, a coffee table between her and the empowered man. A coffee table already equipped with a tray containing a steaming coffee pot with matching cups, silverware, and cream and sugar containers, as well as napkins and cookies.

"Of course," said Aaron, as he poured. By now he knew the reporter's preferences. "The Libyans could have acted against me at any time over the past few years for things I have actually done. Instead, they chose now to blame me for something I had nothing to do with. I feel the same covert but clumsy hand at work behind this as with the aircab murder and several other acts."

"You don't suppose the apparent clumsiness is a deception to make you underestimate this mastermind," said Melody, as she sipped her coffee appreciatively.

"I considered that. The most likely explanation is that the person - and there is likely an individual behind all this and not a group; the signature indicates that - responsible is someone of ability and resources. They are likely empowered, but a novice at such manipulations."

"I assume you've been objective about this," said Melody. "Despite being the target."

"Of course. Objectivity is something I pride myself on." He sighed, and nodded. "I never make a decision based on only one piece of evidence, if I can help it. If possible, I also use evidence from more than one source."

"I've noticed," said Melody, dryly.

"In examining the universe it is important to understand the properties of our instrumentality," said Aaron, entering teacher mode. "Is what we are seeing a characteristic of nature or a characteristic of our equipment? There is objectivity, but it is not something achieved casually. Unfortunately, most people depend on their own perception of something, rather than making an objective evaluation, but think they are actually being objective but that everyone else is wrong. They will even reject hard data which differs from their preconceptions."

He rose and started pacing. Melody had never seen him pace before. She found this activity worrying. Despite his calm, reasoned words these persistent hostile attentions were obviously getting to him.

"Returning to a topic from one of your previous visits, I think part of the reason that I am not more respected is that I admit there are problems I can't solve," said Aaron, sadly, as he paced. "People want reassurance. That's one reason they keep backing politicians who seem to have all the answers. Even when what those politicians promise is blatantly unattainable."

"You could be right. However, some of the most popular leaders have been people who told the public bad news; they just knew how to do it. Think of Winston Churchill, whom I think you actually met. Of course, part of what's going on is that most people are suspicious of your abstemious lifestyle. They doubt that you or anyone else could be that disciplined; that, well, good," said Melody. She frowned, as something occurred to her. "Because they aren't. Have you ever lost control? Since getting your powers, I mean."

"Three times in my long life. Each time it was an immediate reaction to someone beating a child. All the attackers survived, by the way, though some were permanently... altered."

"Ow..."

* * *

"Oops; John is due here in just half an hour," said Melody, after looking at the elderly but still accurate pendulum clock over the doorway into the kitchen, some time later. She and Aaron - who was again seated - had mostly talked about innocuous things during the majority of her visit. It was the rhythmic, mechanical sounds of that clock during one of the pauses in their conversation which had drawn her attention to it. "I suppose we better wrap this up."

"I've said my piece. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Just one thing comes to mind, and it's pretty trivial."

"Shoot. I could use a discussion of something trivial."

"It's just an observation on the difference in body sizes among the members of your brain trust. It is startling. Especially since CornFed is the second-tallest member! She towers over me."

"Not my fault you're short," said Aaron, straight-faced.

"That from someone well below average height for a modern American man," said Melody, smirking. "Remember, I am actually a bit above average height for a middle-class American woman."

"Well, as we both know, becoming empowered often is accompanied by a physical change, and that change is often shaped by what the person sees as an idealized form. Many people simply want to be taller. I didn't, and don't. Although I admit that my angelic form is rather tall."

The two of them enjoyed another long moment of silence, the only sounds those of the refrigerator humming in the kitchen and the ticking of the aforementioned clock; somewhere outside a cat warned something to stay away. They both started a bit when there was a polite knock on the front door.

"That's probably John," said Melody, as Aaron again rose.

Aaron walked down the short - though wide and high - hall and opened the door to reveal Blackpool, as predicted, in full costume.

"Good afternoon," said Aaron. "Welcome! Come on in."

"Thank you. I actually have some questions about the recent Libyan visit."

"I figured you would," said Aaron, as he escorted the black-clad man into the living room. "It's just us here, by the way."

"Ah, good," said Blackpool, sliding gracefully onto the couch beside his wife. "I also have some follow-up questions about the android, as well."

He was very professional in his questioning, so he didn't need long. In the process, though, he actually asked about some things which Melody hadn't thought of. That was understandable; he was acting as a federal agent, while she was acting as a reporter. However, both were also friends of Aaron. Blackpool did, therefore, enquired about his well being. He also gratefully accepted the coffee and cookies. Melody realized for the first time that Aaron already had a third cup on the tray, obviously anticipating that Blackpool would participate in the social ritual. Blackpool even removed his mask to sip at the hot, fragrant liquid and nibble a cookie.

"I think that's it for now," the costumed man said, finally.

"I think I'm done, as well," said Melody.

"Excellent," said Aaron, smiling and nodding. "Can you two stay for supper?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Blackpool, with honest reluctance. "We need to pick up our son Jeremy from daycare."

"Quite understandable. Bring him along for your next visit. It's been too long since I've had such a young guest in this house."