Alien Empire

by Anthony Gillis

  “Haral, there are videos included in this report…” said Tayyis, as she opened the first of them.

  He turned to see what she was looking at.

  Her face grew pale and her expression drawn, “Ohhh…”

  On the screen before them were Elder Warden Ships and fighters bombarding cities of strange pyramidal architecture. With great precision, they were obliterating what must be key targets. It went on, and on.

  Karden pulled up other videos from the set on his own screen.

  “Tayyis… you aren’t going to like this.”

  He was watching scenes of Elder soldiers in power armor, rounding up civilians of a gray-green skinned race with bulbous bodies and long angular heads. With professional demeanor and startling accuracy, the Elder troops summarily shot a few who resisted or tried to flee. Technological items were being assembled into piles and systematically destroyed.

  Karden was reminded of images from the Great Eastern War of three generations earlier, when the two then-dominant alliances of southern nations had decided to settle, once and for all, the matter of who controlled the eastern continent.

  “Haral, I feel sick. I need to sleep,” said Tayyis, and she shuffled off, barely conscious, to her room.

  Karden considered. He didn’t feel much better now than Tayyis, but he’d had sleep. He had a job to do. He picked up his phone.

  25

  “Viris,” said Karden, “We’ve got it. Tayyis found a message that lays out everything the Elders plan to do if we resist, and what will be our fate if we don’t. It includes video documentation. A lot of it, and more graphic than anything I expected. It is powerful.”

  “Slagging aliens! Get it to me, and we’ll make it go viral! The entire world will know by tomorrow. We’ll blow things wide open!”

  “Viris, no. This has to be done very carefully.”

  “Carefully! What are you…?”

  “We need to hit them by surprise, all at once. If this gets loose in an uncontrolled way, there will be a lot of anger, but also chaos. The chaos will make it difficult to channel that anger into action. There will be talk, threats, and riots instead of something decisive. The Elders will see trouble coming, and have time to prepare, and react.”

  “Hmmm. What have you got in mind?”

  “The Elders have Consulates, shuttles and ground teams around the world. We’re going to need to capture or kill them…”

  “I like it so far.”

  “They’ve got the Vigilant in orbit. We can’t get at it, but we might be able to draw it down low enough for an attack with aircraft. If we were able to destroy it, that might buy us a little time. If we were able to capture it, or down it and go through the wreckage, Neem, Jat, and their teams would have a lot of helpful things to work with.”

  She laughed, “Karden, I’m glad you aren’t feeling soft-hearted about this.”

  “If I had any qualms, they were dispelled by what I’ve seen today.”

  “So let’s circle back round to carefully distributing the messages,” she said.

  “To hit the Elders like that will require coordinated military attacks, launched simultaneously and in secret. That will require convincing military and political leaders to help us. In turn, that will mean releasing the videos to those leaders in secrecy, well before the rest of the population sees them.”

  “All right, Karden, I’m convinced. I’m guessing you have some idea who’ll go for it in the east and south, but what about back home? I can’t see dirtbag Vhel turning against his masters, no matter what we show him, and without Tadine, this is going to be tough.”

  “Viris, you are right about the rest of the world. Abida, Chayar, and the rest of the revolutionary council have been busy making friends on the eastern continent. I suppose you wouldn’t follow southern political culture closely, but Professors carry a lot more weight there than back home. Jat and I have been laying some groundwork.”

  “Jat! I didn’t know he had it in him.”

  Karden smiled, “Never forget how famous he is. There are opposition leaders and military commanders in several countries who haven’t committed to anything, but who are willing to listen. They’re waiting on proof. If we give it to them, things will start moving. It could get ugly, there might even be coups, but they will be coups in our favor.”

  “Right. But what about Tadine?”

  “You remember Wimier, former Chief of Staff Wimier? Well he’s been working with Harker building a network of key people, and he’s about to come out of hiding.”

  “Good to know you haven’t just been sitting around, Karden.”

  “Given my near-complete lack of technical expertise, I had to make myself useful. I’m sending you a list of recipients along with the Elder messages themselves. I don’t need to tell you the messages need to get to them secretly.”

  “Thanks. Yep. Got’em. We’re on it!”

  ///

  President Vhel, Security Policy Advisor Karstens, and Tarec, recently appointed to the newly created position of Deputy President, were sitting at a small conference table in the heavily secured Emergency Situation Management Room watching and discussing events on multiple video screens. Staffers and junior advisors were at work all around them, sitting at computers, making and taking calls, and reviewing video feeds. The noise was loud enough to create a form of privacy for the three senior leaders in the center of the room.

  On the screens were strikes and protests. Heavily armed Internal Peace Service troops were standing off against crowds of unarmed civilians carrying placards and banners. Owners of small businesses were being questioned outside their homes. Opposition politicians were giving speeches from tiny rooms at undisclosed locations. There were images of shuttered factories and trucks stopped along the highway.

  “Gentlemen,” said Vhel, “I am becoming concerned. The state of emergency, and the increase in security forces on the streets does not seem to be softening the unreasonable attitude of the opposition.”

  “Sir,” said Karstens, “We haven’t made use of all the emergency powers now available to us. If people don’t want to shut up and get back to work, let’s see how well they argue with gun barrels in their mouths!”

  “A most interesting metaphor, Mr. Karstens, but what if they, ah, taste the barrel and dare us to pull the trigger?

  “I am ready to start signing the orders, sir,” interjected Tarec.

  “Mr. Tarec, your new position has raised a great deal more, ah, constitutional opposition than you predicted. We don’t want to be premature.”

  “My position was confirmed by both the Senate and the Council,” said Tarec.

  Karstens chuckled, “Like they had a choice!”

  “Your title, Mr. Tarec... It appears to concern many people that with a title that includes the term President, traditionally associated with elections, you did not submit to one.”

  “Sir, we agreed it reflected the reality of my duties. Besides, we’ll soon have things positioned where elections won’t be a concern for any of us.”

  “Let us hope so, Mr. Tarec,” continued Vhel. “In a crisis of this kind, the last thing the country needs is the disruption of another divisive election. However, I do think you should recognize that reality is a… subjective concept, and it is prudent to filter its perception for the benefit of the uninformed.”

  “Sir, I strongly recommend you make a decision today,” said Tarec.

  “Gentlemen, give me a moment to think. I should make you aware that Ambassador Margaux has, expressed concerns about the, ah, pace of reform. We should take the opinions of the Elders into consideration, don’t you think?”

  “THEM?” said Tarec, “Sir, what are they but a kind of interplanetary relief agency? They’re about as dangerous as the World Health Cooperative, even if a little more useful. We have them in our pocket these days. We can handle Margaux later. Right now, we need to handle problems closer to home.”

  “Well, look at that!” exclaimed Karstens.

&n
bsp; On one of the screens was Dren Wimier, making a speech at a public park, no less, calling for the impeachment of President Vhel and trials for his senior advisors. Several other opposition figures, lately thought to have been in hiding, were standing with him.

  Vhel sputtered, unable to form a complete sentence.

  Tarec stared fixedly at the screen, death in his eyes.

  “Sir, I think it’s now or never,” said Karstens, “I don’t think we can rely on what’s left of the regular armed forces, but the commanders of the Internal Peace Service were all hand-selected by me. We can count on ‘em to do what’s right for the country.”

  There was an uncomfortable pause. Vhel seemed to stare interminably into space.

  “What do you say, Sir?” said Karstens.

  Vhel’s eyes came momentarily into focus.

  “No. Gentlemen, I won’t give the order. What we will do is contact the Elders for advice and support. I am going to fly personally to International Zone see Ambassador Margaux.”

  “Sir, I formally request that you reconsider,” said Tarec.

  “Mr. Tarec, that is my final decision. I, hmm, suggest you do not make another such request.”

  ///

  Alone in his vast office, Tarec stared out at the nighttime lights of the city. A call came in, a call on a heavily encrypted private ID he’d created for one special contingency. He answered.

  “It’s done? Good. How long do you estimate? You are certain you weren’t seen? Very good.”

  Tarec went on “Yes, I had your money ready in advance. Exactly what we agreed upon. It’s all in non-sequential notes in a small black reinforced case I personally placed while on one of my meditative hikes. It also has false ID documents and a ticket out of the country, as I agreed.”

  “Don’t worry, its well hidden,” he concluded “I made sure my own security detail wasn’t around. You and I are the only ones who know. Here are the directions and the lock code…”

  ///

  Meanwhile, the Presidential jet of the Republic of Tadine, a new and much larger one recently commissioned by Vhel, cruised over a dark landscape of bleak and barren mountain ranges.

  Vhel sat in his seat near the center of the plane, his private quarters behind him and the rows of seats for staffers in front. He’d left the senior people behind, as he’d grown tired of contrary opinions, and wanted to clear his mind for the meeting with Margaux.

  The Elder ambassador had registered his concerns about the scale of the disruptions currently wracking Tadine, and perhaps he’d have some constructive suggestions for how to get them back under control. Some of those suggestions might involve the replacement of key people. Individuals and their fates were unimportant compared to the lofty vision he had for Tadine and the world.

  Perhaps, thought Vhel, he’d been hasty investing so much trust, and power, in Tarec. In the meantime, he needed rest. He called for one of his low-level staffers. He could never remember her name.

  “Please see to it that my quarters are ready. Wake me when we are within twenty minutes of the International Zone.”

  “Yes Sir.”

  Sometime later, in a little storage locker on the lower deck, near the back of the plane and next to the left engine, there was a small explosion.

  ///

  In a patch of scrubby woods, kilosteps from the Capital, a man, a member of the President’s security detail, found his way to a certain large rock. He lifted it up, pushed it aside and found a small black case underneath. He entered a code. There was a small explosion.

  ///

  Ambassador Margaux was flying with a handful of staff in a small, elegant diplomatic shuttle toward the International Zone for a planned meeting with President Vhel. The green fields and lush forests of the wealthy southern nation of Ishnepura were dimly visible in the moonlight below. Margaux received a communication signal on an Elder code.

  “Your Excellency, this is Intelligence Lieutenant Boutsaris.”

  “Yes Intelligence Lieutenant, report.”

  “I’ve just received news that the aircraft carrying President Vhel of Tadine has crashed. Your Excellency, reports are it struck ground at high speed in a mountainous area near the border between Tadine and Jayesthir, and was completely destroyed.”

  “Thank you, Intelligence Lieutenant. Report to me again when you have more information.”

  He quickly sent a signal of his own.

  “Deputy Ambassador Hsien.”

  “Yes, Your Excellency.”

  “Word has reached me that President Vhel of Tadine is likely dead. This places Deputy President Tarec as his probable successor. Unfortunately, we will now have to intervene directly. Inform Warden Ship Captain Fitzgerald, and prepare a team.”

  “I will do my duty, Your Excellency.”

  ///

  A large crowd of journalists and political figures were assembled on the floor of the largest public conference room in the capital complex. On the stage, behind bulletproof glass, and flanked by squads of armed guards in full ballistic gear, stood Deputy President Tarec. He was concluding a speech.

  “…and so it is with great sadness for the loss of our nation’s visionary leader and guide, President Vhel, and with a solemn sense of duty, that I accept the burden of the Presidency of Tadine.”

  As was custom, the Seal Bearer of the Senate came forth carrying the Seal of Compact, the large bronze medallion on which, nearly four centuries earlier, representatives of the indigenous Tadine freeholds had pledged their alliance in the face of southern invasions. The Seal Bearer looked nervous as he walked up the steps and around the bulletproof glass.

  Tarec touched his forehead, then the seal.

  “Now, in my first official act as President, and in full consideration of the current state of emergency, I decree…”

  “The Chief Councilor should be taking that oath! From the beginning of the republic! Who the slag do you think y…!” said a loud voice, suddenly quieted.

  The crowd parted in disorder around a pair of plainclothes security officers dragging an unconscious form.

  “Since the order of succession under current law may not be clear to everyone,” said Tarec, “I will clarify it here. In the event of the death of the president in mid-term, Chief Councilor Drinen would have been the successor under the OLD law. Now, I am”

  President Tarec’s eyes slowly surveyed the crowd.

  No one else spoke.

  ///

  Two men in the uniforms of senior Tadine military officers sat in an office at national command headquarters in Capital. The door was locked. One, a burly man with stern craggy features, was General Danven of the Tadine Army, the other, tall, thin, and dignified, was Admiral Nidier. They spoke in low voices. A third voice came from a speaker set between them.

  “Gentlemen,” said the voice, “that is a very serious step you are considering.”

  “Air General Sellis, these are serious times. You’ve seen the reports we forwarded from Professor Karden,” said Nidier.

  “Sellis, Tarec’s presidency is illegitimate, you know it as well as we do. That law they rammed through the terrified remnants of the Senate doesn’t mean a thing. The constitution still stands, and we need to stand by it. We’re all that’s left between this country and simultaneous dictatorship and chaos, after which, we become slaves to the Elders. We need to act now.”

  “General,” said Nidier, “with the forced retirement of the Land, Sea, and Air Marshals, you are left as the highest ranking remaining officer in the Air Fleet. Your participation in this is essential.”

  There was a pause. Then, Sellis spoke.

  “All right, how many are there that we can trust?”

  “As you know, things are fragmented with the removal of so many senior officers,” said Danven, “But of those left, most will fall out on our side. Air Brigadier Halner at Overwatch is ready, just waiting on you. Ground commanders in Western, Southern, and Central commands are with us.”

  “What about t
he Internal Peace Service? They’ll stand with the regime,” said Sellis.

  “You haven’t seen them in operation!” said Danven, “They’re a bunch of thugs and goons, not professional soldiers. I think we can handle them.”

  “Well then, let’s start making calls” said Sellis.

  ///

  Varen sat eating a late dinner at a dusty all-night restaurant a few kilosteps down the road from Vanguard Air Base. A mix of military and ex-military personnel sat around eating and sipping drinks. Every once in a while, one of them would try to talk to Varen about better days. He wasn’t in the mood for talking.

  A small video screen was hanging by cables above the bar. The news was going from bad to worse. From what he could see, and the talk he’d been hearing, Vhel’s death had plunged the country into a mood of paranoia. The new President, if he could be called that, was ordering wholesale arrests, and according to rumor, executions. Other rumors pinned blame for it all squarely on the aliens. Still others said Tarec WAS an alien, or somehow under their mind control.

  “This country is going to complete slag,” said someone behind him.

  “Who elected Tarec anyway? I never even heard of him till this whole Deputy President thing got cooked up,” said another.

  “It’s those slagging aliens!” said a third.

  “We need to do something. Is command going to just sit there…?” said a fourth, more quietly, and dropping to a near whisper at the end.

  Eyes turned to Varen, though he didn’t see them. His phone rang.

  “Varen here.”

  “Hi, this is Neem. Neem Ranacharandgan. How are you?”

  “Neem, it’s good to hear from you. I’ve been better. How’s life in… well, wherever you are?”

  “Varen, has Sellis called you yet? I mean General Sellis?”

  “Yet?”

  “Haven’t you heard? Wimier’s holding a meeting with the Council and a good chunk of what’s left of the Senate, they’re going to declare Tarec’s presidency unconstitutional. There are other things in motion too!”