Alien Empire

ALIEN EMPIRE

ANTHONY GILLIS

ALIEN EMPIRE

By Anthony Gillis

Revised First Edition

Published by Sol Invictus Publishing, Inc.

Cover design and interior artwork by Anthony Gillis

Copyright © 2014 by Anthony Gillis

All rights reserved.

ISBN 9781310460715

Graphic of planet in center of cover Copyright © 2012 Spiral Graphics Inc. Sample obtained under Spiral Graphics Free User License 2.

Publication History:

First Edition, April 2012

Revised First Edition, October 2012

Republished by Sol Invictus Publishing Inc, December 2014

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

For more works by the author, visit:

AnthonyGillis.com

-AG-

This work is dedicated to all the great science fiction authors who inspired it, from H.G. Wells, Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov and Poul Anderson, to Larry Niven and Orson Scott Card.

I thank you all.

Acknowledgements

Thanks are due to my editor, Alex M. Jones, and to my friend Adam Dressel, who was in no small part the inspiration for a certain prominent character in this work, to my readers for their support and feedback, and to all the scientists, engineers, programmers and entrepreneurs who have made the modern era of ebook publishing possible.

ALIEN EMPIRE

Table of Contents

Front

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About the Author

Other Books by the Author

1

When they came, the world changed forever.

Karden was there. All the long years of his life beforehand seemed to condense to insignificance before the magnitude of what happened in that short time. What happened to the world, what happened to him.

People had of course been telling tales of UFOs for decades. Sites on the net were devoted to conspiracy theories of alien observers, varyingly monstrously evil, supernaturally benevolent, or merely cold and inscrutable. Those who believed in such things assumed it was all being kept secret by the government, the aliens themselves, or perhaps both. Then there were the apocryphal stories of abductions, which always managed to happen in some isolated field or patch of wilderness far from reliable observers, let alone video equipment.

That was not how the aliens made themselves known.

On the cool spring day when it all began, Karden was making a rare visit to the east building faculty lounge. Someone had brought in a big snack assortment tray, and he was attempting a surreptitious raid to loot some of it without getting pulled into unwanted conversations. Chairman of the History Department, and considering retirement, he was getting old, slowing down, a bit thin in the limbs and thick in the middle. He’d have to rely on guile rather than speed.

His plans failed.

Professor Karden! Come look at this! It was Professor Snel, a mathematician notable for her brilliant work, thick goggle-like eyeglasses, disheveled clothes, and usually, quiet shy manner.

She was watching television, along with a dozen other academics.

That by itself by itself might have been enough to get Karden’s attention, but that Snel had yelled something ensured it. He turned around, snacks carefully in hand, to see what they were all looking at.

Karden almost dropped his plate.

There on the screen, on repeating cycle, was a news report. Astronomers had observed, near the outer edges of the solar system, powerful bursts of light and some very strange subatomic particles. Twelve simultaneous bursts, in a grid pattern. That was not what was most notable, however, for out of those bursts emerged a group of objects, objects flying in formation at astonishing speed.

That they were detectable at all at that distance implied they were… large.

What ARE those? someone gulped.

Too small to tell, said someone else.

No, not at all! We may not be able to get better visual resolution at that distance, but astronomers are already getting enough information to find out plenty about them! said Snel.

As the growing crowd watched, a hastily-assembled group of panelists debated the nature of the objects. Some pundit or other wondered whether they were an unknown natural phenomenon.

Natural? scoffed Karden, And when, exactly, did natural objects fly in perfect formation?

The journalists finally patched in an astrophysicist to join the discussion. He pointed out that the objects were flying directly toward the world, their trajectory precisely coordinated with its orbit around the sun.

Uh oh, said Snel, her voice returning to its usual near-whisper.

Another pundit onscreen theorized they were giant projectiles, missiles aimed by unknown but inconceivably powerful enemies to destroy the planet itself.

Or, as a simpler explanation, they could be ships, said Karden.

Very large ships, whispered Snel.

The lounge was getting full. Someone in the back quipped, Ships? Naturally, Karden, as the expert in first contacts between cultures, you’d be hoping to finally see one first hand.

Karden replied in an acrid tone, As you know, my work is more… terrestrial. However, the actual history of such first contacts has never encouraged me to want to be on the receiving end of one. In any case, none of us will have a choice.

Snel looked over at him. At that speed, they’ll be here in five days.

///

Karden returned to his large but woefully cluttered office, cleared a stack of teetering papers to make room, and with help from a couple of graduate students, rigged up a spare monitor set to the news feeds. Over the next few days, with varying company, he followed developments and public reaction.

There were those who expected the end of the world and those who expected its salvation, and a few perhaps who expected both. Some panicked and fled the cities with their families and vehicles loaded with supplies. Others dug bunkers and stocked them with weapons, awaiting the worst. Crazies gathered in the desert or on rooftops to dance to the arrival of the aliens, wish them welcome, or ask them for boons. Most simply went to work as always, hoping things would turn out all right.

The nations of the world mobilized their armed forces, reserves were called up, and aircraft flew regular patrols on high alert. None knew if such preparations would help, or would even be necessary, but none wanted to find out what would happen if they didn’t make them.

As the objects grew closer, astronomers were able to get a better look at them.

Those are definitely ships, mumbled Snel, who’d made herself at home in a chair nearly surrounded by stacked books.

And what ships! added Karden.

Each was larger than the greatest oceangoing vessel by far, the length of an urban center. One could imagine crews with the populations of small towns manning them. And they were beautiful. They had, to be sure, an alien aesthetic at work, but they were magnificent matches of form to function. Whoever built them had been building such things a long time. No experimental prototype, no new feat of untried engineering, could have looked like that! They made the world’s handful of little orbital spacecraft look like the works of some amateur tinker.

All twelve of them followed a standard design - roughly cylindrical, cut off about three-quarters of the way around their circumference to make a flat top, with tapered bows and bright glowing engines at the stern. They had clean lines and gracefully arcing curves, with minor variations here and there, just as one encountered with individual surface warships over the lifetime of a class

But these ships were decorated with colors and touches of metallic gold. The designs were placed so as to highlight an eye-catching portion of a ship, or in elegant geometric patterns elsewhere. It was just enough to enhance the beauty of the ships without overwhelming it. Though all the decoration followed a common aesthetic, no two were done exactly alike.

To Karden’s eye, they resembled painted and gilt sailing ships of centuries past, like the hulls of fast low-slung galleys, only far, far larger. Once pictures got out of what the ships looked like, the mood of the public turned notably more positive. Talk filled the airwaves and the net. The media pundits continued their analysis, such as it was.

Finally, and notably, there are no visible objects on the surfaces of these ships that our experts think might resemble a weapon, said one of Karden’s least favorite, a pompous old windbag of an anchorman named Rorder.

Surely, the latter continued, in his pontifical way, such beautiful ships couldn’t house the slavering monsters or cruel invaders of popular imagination! Here I think we see diplomats and teachers from the stars, artistic beings that have advanced beyond our petty greed and ruthless warmongering. The only enemy we will see upon their arrival is us, or rather, our own fear.

Karden peered around the pile of books to talk to Snel.

The sailing ships of any number of conquering empires were themselves beautiful things.

She gazed nervously through her ponderous glasses. What do you mean?

I can call to mind more than a few encounters between overawed natives, and more advanced and powerful visitors, visitors who came by ship from far away.

Her expression became even more nervous.

And this time, he added, we’re the natives. All of us.

2

As the alien ships approached, the governments of the world hastily convened conferences. Some sort of plan had to be formulated, but what? As people ever did, the politicians had many theories and much trouble agreeing on a specific course of action. What they COULD agree on was forming committees to recommend such courses. Lists were drawn up of specialists, experts, world famous authorities in any fields that could conceivably be relevant, and urgent requests went out asking them to attend.

Physicists, astronomers, engineers, anthropologists and linguists, military commanders, diplomats, business leaders, and even speculative futurists, were asked to contribute their ideas on what might be learned, and what to do with it. Some official, or more likely one of their staff, even saw fit to invite a historian, just in case.

Karden was considered by some to be the world’s foremost scholar of cultural first contacts and the changes that followed. Or at least, his books sold well, he thought ruefully, and perhaps that was enough for the politicians. While the company was likely to be moderately interesting to tedious, at least the food and accommodations on these kinds of junkets tended to be top notch. So, how could he decline?

Veteran of many conferences, he travelled light. Packing a set of his increasingly archaic dress clothes, a computer bag, a few hours flying to the capital, and he was there.

On the other side of security, a harried-looking staffer was waiting, recognized him by sight, and guided him out to a waiting car. It was a posh thing too, with a large comfortable back cabin, a driver, and best of all, a built-in bar! Good to know, he thought to himself, the government felt this situation merited lavish and gratuitous use of taxpayer money.

A long, traffic-snarled drive and a tall drink later, Karden arrived at the hotel that had been commandeered for the conference. Thankfully, the staffer had not bothered him with conversation other than a basic briefing. He noticed the place was one of the absolute best and most expensive in the capital. In a cynical way it made sense. When the spigots were on, why stop with cars?

Reporters stood outside the entrance, like scavengers hoping for a meal. They had probably been denied access inside. As the staffer scurried from the car and around to open the door for him, Karden could see them tense, preparing for the tasty scrap that awaited them.

As he stepped out, their expressions changed to confusion and then disinterest. After all, even a famous historian isn’t that famous, and certainly not by sight. However, one of them must have seen one of his books or videos, as he stepped forward with what Karden assumed would be useless questions.

Professor Karden, right?

Yes.

The historian, yes?

Not THE historian, merely one, but yes.

Thus far, his assumptions were not disappointed.

What do you think the aliens will do, what will they say?

I’ll answer your second question first, since it is likely to happen first, even if it is out of my field. They’ll say things in their own language, which we won’t understand, and then we’ll try to translate them. I presume it will be difficult since we’ll have only short samples, and no frame of reference. For that you’ll need linguists, not me…

But professor, you know what I mean.

…unless of course, they’ve already learned one of OUR languages, and send us a message using it. In which case, they’ve already been studying us, and may have some very interesting though not necessarily comfortable things to say.

Please, professor!

Very well, I expect they’ll want something.

Want something? Could you clarify, professor?

There are many possibilities. Not our clearly inferior technology, to be sure. Perhaps they want our resources or our labor. If we’re lucky, they might even want to trade for them voluntarily. Or perhaps they’ll simply want our obedience. Then again they might not want us at all, just our nice beautiful planet. In that case, they aren’t likely to SAY anything to us, and they’ll go straight to doing.

But don’t you think, such an advanced species, a powerful alien race, might be more enlightened, might have come to help us and teach us?

Why would more advanced technology necessarily make them more enlightened? Why would they cross whatever immense distances they’ve come, and at what is no doubt immense cost, just to waste their time giving us things?

But really professor, some of the other authorities have been much more optimistic!

I’m sure they have. If you like, I can tell your viewers about several important historical events where more advanced, more powerful people crossed the seas and found people who were less so. They had many motives, but wanting to give gratuitous help and free gifts to the natives was never among them. I can describe them in detail…

Oh I’m sorry professor, I’d love to, but our broadcast time will be limited.

Another car was pulling up.

Ah well, you may like the next person’s opinions better. I will however answer your first question. What they DO will flow directly from what they SAY, and how we answer. Assuming we have a chance to answer. Interpret that how you like.

Ah, thank you professor!

The reporter was already turning, with his crew, to the next, and hopefully sweeter, tidbit.

///

Inside, the place was grand, and packed. Politicians, generals, scientists, and assorted other VIPs were clustered in conversations throughout the lobby, hallways, and main meeting room. Aides and staff scurried about fetching documents, drinks, and promising-looking food. How fortunate then that he was, for the day at least, one of the VIPs!

Karden was wending his way through the crowd at random, trying to balance grabbing delicacies without being pulled into the conversations, when he noticed something else promising. There, towards an exhibit area where some fool had decided to post large glass-framed still photos of the alien ships, was Tayyis, the linguist.

He’d had the good fortune to talk with her at many a conference or project over what was now close to thirty years. She was a most interesting conversationalist, spoke some implausible number of languages, and was a breath of fresh air among the self-important figures packing the place. He’d always thought her an attractive woman, with her luminously contemplative and intelligent eyes, but he was a difficult and incorrigible bachelor, while until her late husband’s sad passing, she’d been happily married.

Karden abandoned his subtle plot to make off with a couple of the little snack wedges being held unfortunately close to a pair of the biggest windbags in the room, and walked straight over to Tayyis.

3

Tayyis was listening to two very different young men carry on a technical conversation, and was enjoying it immensely. Though she’d published several books, the foundation of her career was freelance translation and linguistic work. She hadn’t managed it by being shy or misanthropic. The conversation itself was so thick with jargon that she may as well have been trying to learn a new language, and that made it interesting.

The first was a gregarious engineer, a designer at a major military contractor who’d risen to prominence at a surprisingly young age in their experimental division. She had little idea what work he did or how he did it, but he must do so brilliantly, given the conversation she was hearing. He was cheerful, optimistic, and full of both new ideas and cutting analysis. Baby faced, and slightly overweight, he looked even younger than his probable age. He looked barely more than a boy.

The other, somewhat less young, man was full of new ideas and cutting analysis too, and in a sense he could be called optimistic, or at least fiercely confident, but he was far from cheerful. Tall and gangly, he had wide, intense eyes and odd, quick body language.

Unlike the engineer, who toiled away in relative anonymity at his firm, the other man was something bordering on world-famous. He was Professor Darex Jat, considered by many to be the most brilliant physicist of his rising generation, and by some to be the most brilliant of any generation. Jat himself was by all accounts in the latter camp.

Jat had risen to fame early as a kind of boy genius, and by the time he’d completed his education, he’d helped solve contradictions in quantum physics that had baffled some two generations of scientists. His groundbreaking work there and elsewhere were not only spectacular, but had led to applications that were even now transforming the leading edges of the applied sciences and engineering.

The very stereotype of the odd-mannered scientist, he was almost as well known among the general public for his wild unkempt appearance and colorful temperament as for his actual work.

The two were debating theories of interstellar Faster Than Light travel – FTL - the ways in which the constraints of relativity might be circumvented, the quantities of power required to do so, and what sort of ships could survive the trip.

The engineer, who had forgotten his name tag, and now seemingly his name on seeing Jat, had walked over and immediately launched into the arcane discussion that now engrossed them all. He might not match Jat’s knowledge of abstract physics, but he certainly outmatched him in practical application, and between the two, they were weaving wonders.

Tayyis followed the cadence of their speech. The engineer’s enthusiastic monologues, Jat’s sharp, odd-paced ones. Neither of them seemed to have built a substantial toolkit of social skills during their education and careers.

She listened to their language as it unfolded, catching the meaning of obscure terms from context, and fitting them into the growing pattern. Some of what they were saying was beginning to make sense. She was a collector of languages, really, with fifteen complete sets thus far, and pieces of dozens more. While their jargon didn’t quite count as one, it was worth learning.

Her reverie was broken by the imminent arrival of someone else.

There was Professor Karden heading straight her way with a piled plate of no-doubt scavenged snacks in one hand and a drink in the other! Oh, this should be interesting, she thought. Karden, aging doyen of a field that favored the old and learned, calm, caustic but well-spoken and even suave in his way… and these two intense, awkward young men, brilliant newcomers in fields where most made their marks early.

Professor Karden, how good to see you again!

Ah, likewise Tayyis. How is this gathering of windbags treating you? I hope the gusts aren’t too strong.

I’ve avoided them entirely and am basking in the sunlight of these two young minds.

The two young minds were busy directing something more like lightning than sunlight at each other, and completely failed to notice her compliment.

Well then, young Darex I recognize, who’s this other fellow?

He never said his name. But listen to what else they are saying!

Karden set to work on that, and his refreshments.

Together the two older social scientists listened to the animated, difficult, but still informative conversation on ideas like tachyons, space-time, wormholes, fusion and antimatter power, antigravity, force fields, the structural integrity of known metals, and much more.

Occasionally they even grasped some of the underlying and heavily mathematical principles that supported the bold ideas. The working theory seemed to be, based on the phenomena observed, that the aliens used some form of wormhole through space-time as their means of FTL travel.

Finally, the two young men paused, perhaps remembering where they were, or maybe simply for breath.

Tayyis took the opportunity, Professor Jat, allow me to introduce Professor Haral Karden.

Eh? You wrote that book on cultural first contacts… read it in school. Good. No accident YOU are here. I work with…

Oh, no further introduction needed, I know of your accomplishments, Professor Jat! smiled Karden.

And this, said Tayyis, turning to the engineer, is…

The young man looked down at his chest in confusion, remembering for the second time in an hour that he hadn’t worn his name tag, and looked back up with a sheepish expression.

My name is Neem, Neem Ranacharandgan. It’s an honor to meet you both! Sorry, I was excited to see Mr., err, professor Jat, and then I got caught up in the conversation. These are amazing times!

An honor to meet you, Mr. Ranacharandgan, said Tayyis, pronouncing the name perfectly.

Most pleased to meet you, Neem said Karden, taking the path of lesser resistance.

So, anyway… said Jat, turning back to the engineer with all signs of resuming the conversation where it had left off.

However, it was not to be. At that moment the sound system squawked, and an announcement began in the eloquent, mellifluous, ever so slightly dull, voice of the nation’s President.

Thank you all for coming. I will soon be making a televised broadcast announcing that the visitors have entered low orbit and appear to be slowly approaching this very city…

There was a low, collective gasp from the crowd.

Please stay calm. We will keep you informed as events develop. In the meantime, I call your attention to the video screens throughout this building, as we have their approach on live feed.

Karden felt his usual visceral reaction to the smug, presumptuous edge in the president’s choice of words, the edge that had made him vote for the other one.

The large screen at the end of the room came on. Aircraft, ground-based observers, and satellites were all watching the aliens intently now, and a clean image came in of the great ships descending through the upper atmosphere. They had slowed dramatically, and were now shifting their formation as well, from a sort of cube to a single level square in rows and columns.

The camera switched to that of a high-altitude observation craft, lower and closer. The aliens appeared to be leveling off well above even the highest clouds. The gigantic ships came to a complete stop. The camera switched again, to a ground view. They still looked large even at that distance and from that perspective.

Jat was talking to no one in particular. No visible propulsion streams underneath, just the engines in the back, no wings, big lumbering things… hmm, antigravity? Would be nice to know how they do it…

The screen flickered and the video of the fleet, with all eyes on it, suddenly shifted to a box in the lower right hand corner, while the president at his podium appeared on the main screen. His elegant but bland features filled the central screen. His eyes focused, as they tended to, on the indeterminate middle distance. He started his speech.

Several people groaned, others muttered in annoyance. Some quick-thinking hotel staffer darted forward and adjusted a setting. The alien ships returned to the main screen, and the president, in his glory, was relegated to the corner. The camera shifted again back to the observation craft, which was now slowly circling the alien fleet. Things were happening. Panels were opening along the bottom, sides, and front of the alien ships. Devices were coming out. Everything moved in a smooth, beautiful, flawless dance of technology.

Neem gasped. Those are weapons, guns of some kind, there… and those other ones, he pointed excitedly, they’ve got to be missile launchers. Yes! No doubt about it, missiles. What an ingenious design…

Tayyis tapped his arm. He stopped talking, paused, and dug a digital notepad out of his pocket. Low and unhappy noises swept through the crowd, as others also realized what the new objects must be.

The President was droning on. Though none can know for certain, one doubts that these visitors, so far in advance of ourselves, having come such a vast distance across the heavens, mean us ill. We may all hope for peace, and trust that…

At that moment an aide interrupted him, whispered something. The President addressed the camera If you will excuse me for a brief moment, it appears the visitors are sending us a message. We should… consider this a good sign, he stepped off-camera, looking, for once, flustered.

The room was now very quiet.

The feed of the president’s podium went off, and the aliens unwittingly regained control of the lower right corner of the screen. The president’s voice appeared again, once more through the hotel sound system.

Respected guests, as you may know from my broadcast, the visitors have sent us a message. For the general good of this and of all nations, and to avoid any grounds for… needless speculation on the part of the public, we will not yet broadcast it. Rather, we will be replaying it over the sound system for your review. We hope to get your best analysis. However, I believe you will find what you hear reassuring, and a counter to impressions that might be formed by the, ah, possible weapon-like objects now presented by the visiting ships.

Karden snorted.

The president continued. My staff will be circulating afterward to discuss and collect your views. I therefore request that for the next hour, you do not leave the building.

Karden could hardly imagine that anyone was likely to leave NOW. But, why should the President pass up the opportunity for a patronizing request to do the obvious?

I think I’m a bit old for a pop quiz, he muttered.

Tayyis smiled at him.

4

The broadcast began. It was in their language, not that of the aliens.

We bid you greetings from the stars, and wish you peace. We are the Elders, guides and protectors of the galaxy, the first people to travel the stars, and the caretakers of those who come after. We are here because we have watched you, and now judge you ready to know of us. You have shown yourselves worthy of a great opportunity, your world’s chance to join the vast community of galactic civilization, and learn what we have to teach…

Karden felt his nerves prickle.

Tayyis made note of the voice as much as the words. The vocabulary and sentence structure were excellent, if stiltedly formal. She decided they’d probably used news and official communications as their sources, and must have been listening for a long time. However, the voice’s accent was disturbing… sounds made by vocal equipment unsuited to the language it was speaking. She speculated as to what that meant about the appearance of the aliens.

Neem wasn’t paying much attention to the speech. He was still watching the alien ships with a beaming grin on his face, and taking notes.

Jat, in the otherwise silent room, let out a snorting laugh. What! They actually CALL themselves the Elders? I…!

Heads turned. Karden wasn’t sure whether to glare at him or smile. Someone elbowed Jat in the back and whispered a venomous shhhh! He fell silent again.

The alien voice had been continuing on.

Do not be alarmed at the weapons now presented by our ships. They are merely to forestall any unfortunate accidents due to misunderstanding. Though you are incapable of harming our emissary ships, we do not wish you to harm yourselves in trying. Begin, therefore, with us in peace. We come with knowledge, we come with advice. We bring you community, we bring you enlightenment, and we bring you gifts. We have an embassy waiting to visit you, and we await your reply.

Karden stood there, the most ominous trains of thought creeping into his mind. He felt a hint of fear rising, but quickly drowned it in his accustomed sarcasm.

Thankfully short.

The others nearby, except for Neem, looked at him.

But there was much said, and even more left out. I hope the President and the rest of the leadership have their wits about them right now.

A buzz of excited conversation was rising in the rest of the room.

Jat had a wry look on his face. This part – this is the part where they land, look noble, win our trust, then start collecting us as food.

He snorted that off-putting laugh of his again. Elders… ELDERS!

Karden smiled at the thought of old, bad videos about malevolent aliens, and decided he was beginning to like Jat. Then another unsettling thought occurred to him. Food? Perhaps in a strictly metaphorical sense, that might turn out to be all too true.

Tayyis looked at them both, caught their attention, ignoring Neem. That speech was good. Not the content I mean, but the language. I know the voice sounded odd, but they’ve been studying us, with intelligence, for a while. This emissary fleet of theirs, if it is that, can’t have been their first visit.

Jat looked at her with approval. Yes! Not their first visit to the solar system at least. They don’t need to have been TOO close to have picked up some of our communication. Easier to stay hidden around the outer planets. Some minor moon maybe, or an asteroid.

Karden took it all in. Their tone was, to say the least, condescending. Even if they mean us well, we should consider what that means about them. Consider also the obvious implied threat of the weapons being run out before they sent their message. If we really can’t harm them in any way, and they would never harm us, why present weapons?

Neem looked over with a brief moment’s interest.

And, continued Karden …consider some of the possible implications of those little words community and enlightenment.

Neem looked up at the screen, down at his notes, back over at Karden, and the smile left his face.

The presidential staff was beginning to show up, recorders and notepads in hand, circulating around and asking questions. The room was a cacophony of talk now. There were conversations with each other, conversations with the staffers, and many opinions. Despite the herding efforts of the staff, groups milled about, forming and reforming.

Karden, Tayyis, Jat, and Neem kept most of their conversation with each other. Outside of their little group, opinion seemed to be on balance positive about the intent of the aliens. Some of the attendees were visibly elated, moving and talking excitedly about the astonishing future awaiting everyone.

A tall rangy man of middle years, conservatively dressed, walked up. Karden recognized him, a prominent businessman, from news images. The others it seemed did not. The man extended a hand.

Professor Karden, I’m a huge fan of your books. My name’s Pavol Harker, of Harker Industries.

Karden basked momentarily. Mr. Harker, good to meet you, and my thanks. You look like you have something on your mind.

Harker looked around the room. People here seem… optimistic, except for you four. You’ve already gotten a reputation as the naysayers of the conference. Well, I’m with you. Something about all this isn’t right. It feels like a sales pitch, or a scam. In political terms…

Propaganda, said Karden.

Exactly, said Harker, with barely repressed intensity. We’re being sold a bill of goods, and payment is going to come due. Karden, I’m not just a fan of your books, I’ve taken some lessons from them – what happens when groups with different sets of assumptions meet and most likely compete. What comes of the creation and the destruction unleashed. How effectively they react, how effectively they adapt, determines whether they survive, or not - in business, in war, in culture, and in whatever it is these aliens have planned for us.

Karden beamed almost as he might to a bright student. I see that in fact, you HAVE read my books, Mr. Harker. Ah, my apologies, may I introduce my friend Tayyis Lyr, a most brilliant linguist, Professor Darex Jat, of whom you’ve probably heard, and…

Neem burst into the conversation, his notepad momentarily forgotten. Harker Industries! Mr. Harker? I applied for a job at your company sir, when I first finished school!

Good to know it son. Laughed Harker, his intensity broken. Sorry we didn’t hire you, but based on your being invited to this shindig, I’d guess things turned out all right. Where do you work now?

At Combine Defense Technologies, in the experimental division, sir.

Combine? The experimental division! Then, you must work with, ah, what’s that genius’s name, Rana…

I AM Neem Ranacharandgan, sir! Said Neem, again noticing his own missing nametag.

You! Well that is something. I’d heard you were young, but didn’t know how much so. Now I really do wish we’d hired you. Say, I’d bet we could make you an offer above what Combine’s paying you…

Oh no sir, they pay me well enough, and though I really respect what your company does, the inventions you’ve brought to market, the difference you’ve made in so many people’s lives… there at Combine I have found my life’s work. Military equipment and the systems that support them fascinate me sir, and there, I can really pursue my ideas, I can create!

Harker chuckled. Well, can’t argue with that, but we’d see about the pay.

Karden took another drink and looked over at Tayyis. She must have made a recording of the alien speech, and was repeating it at low volume, her mind clearly at work.

Ah, slag! interrupted Jat, Here come the quiz kids!

A pair of staffers, with serious and decidedly un-kidlike demeanors, had arrived at the group ready to ask questions. They were in a hurry, which kept the survey short and to the point. They did not seem to enjoy the answers they received.

The more senior of the two, portly and barely fitting in his formal clothes, looked earnestly at Karden. And that is really what you think? That this is all some sort of trick or trap so they can conquer us?

Karden looked back, his air of wry calm in place once more. I don’t think they need a trick to conquer us outright. My guess is they think they have, probably do have, the power to do that quite handily. But they aren’t doing so. They are trying to convince us of something. Therefore, what they want involves our acquiescence. I think what they want is likely to be uncomfortable for us, or at best irrevocable. However they wish, or need, the pill to go down easily.

The staffer’s face turned a resigned, sour expression. He nodded to his younger female colleague, and they walked over to the next group.

Tayyis smiled a knowing smile. Why, it’s almost as if the staffers already know the answers they want from us!

Which means, said Karden, the president and the rest have already made up their minds, and now they are just looking for confirmation and support. Lovely, and to think for a moment I tentatively thought, or at least hoped, they’d have their eyes open.

Jat laughed loudly, a sound Karden found something like an out-of-breath runner making an announcement through a malfunctioning microphone.

5

The next hour was uneventful, if an ongoing steady buzz of intense conversation can be called such. Karden, Tayyis, Jat, Neem, and Harker stuck together, discussing their thoughts on the day’s events. When the conversation began to run in circles, they grabbed a