by Grover Young
“So I'm told,” I replied, as Sheila and I exchanged a smile.
Neither one of us were impressed with this woman. While we had not attended any kind of higher education besides high school, we'd spent our lives as very active and avid readers. Sure, she'd spent some time reading romances, and I'd gone though my share of men's adventure and western novels, but we hadn't stopped there.
Our debates on Hugo's original Hunchback of Norte Dame and the Disney-fied version, as well as many other works, proved both of our interests were wide ranging. Adding in years, or in Sheila's case decades, of real life experience, our actual 'education' level very much exceeded our documentation.
That was also why we were enlisted and often times thought of by our much younger officers as completely incompetent idiots. That had always been true to an extent of all non-commissioned officers, NCOs, but now it was only more so.
With Project Re-Birth returning many senior citizens to their youth and full health, the military's hierarchy became even more top heavy with more chiefs than Indians. That had a great number taking an unwanted demotion from the rank they'd been discharged as. Of course, those who'd left relatively recently escaped that, as well as those like Sheila who were in a technical specialty where rank wasn't a necessarily a position.
Simply, you had a lot of formerly old 'soldiers' who, because their military experience was dated, were commanded by those who had more recent training, but were green. That changed quickly as units came under fire. Having already seen the 'elephant' the Re-birthed tended to have higher survival rates. Those younger soldiers who did make it were also the ones who listened to their older comrades.
Due to the brutal nature of this War and of how badly we were outgunned, you either took every single advantage offered to you and learned fast, or you died. Worse, you took a lot of other people depending on you to their deaths along with you.
A younger woman who had her position only because of her educational background and possible family connections, did not go far with us.
“A number of different approaches have been tried,” Tamara Lee lectured, “Never once have they ever agreed to a face to face meeting nor even a vaguely meaningful dialogue.”
“You're assuming they have any interests in what you have to say,” Sheila shoved a stack of plates into the younger woman's hands, “I very much doubt there's a diplomat or anyone close to that job description aboard that ship up there. They came here to collect what they had paid for.”
“Think about it,” I told the diplomat, “This whole thing began because of curiosity. Dean caught Tash's attention by talking about Halloween. You should've seen his face when Tash really did show up at that party!”
“This is just more of that curiousness,” Sheila agreed, “Not only is this about another of our holidays, but Craig, too.”
“Whatever it was, I didn't do it!” I held up my hands, smiling, “I'm innocent.”
“You were the one who coined the term,” Sheila giggled, “Oh mighty Quantum Warrior!”
“It was better than being called 'cursed'!” I defended myself, “From what I could gather from what the Away Team has put together, early in their space faring their engines were more prone to the 'malfunction' that makes Prometheus possible. Their transformations were more like out of a horror movie, like those Alien movies.
“So, the Pantheon Teams are like something out of their nightmares?” the State Department woman asked, as she set the table.
“As far as we can figure, yes,” I answered, “I guess having your 'monsters' being your enemy's heroes isn't something even they see every day.”
“Don't forget about that Quantum Pattern thing,” Sheila reminded me.
“I don't get all of that, but apparently, although there are in theory an infinite number of universes with different versions of us all,” I tried to explain what little I knew, “Each and every one of us has one truly unique pattern no matter how alike our other selves in other dimensions and universes might be.
“Our Visitors suggested that the Prometheus Process somehow overwrites that pattern with that from another universe and/or dimension.” I did the best I could without going beyond my limited knowledge, “It also appears that something is different with our version of Prometheus besides our Guests' experiences.
“While a couple of volunteers were transformed into truly inhuman forms, they weren't crazed or went on killing rampages like I've got the feeling happened with our Visitors,” I shrugged, “Perhaps we're accessing a different universe from theirs or something there really terrible happened to their whole race.”
“It all comes back down to we don't know enough about them to make any kind of educated guess,” I gave a weary sigh. So many people had died already, and it was dead certain more were going to follow them. Soylent Blue was going to push off our extinction, but we were still very much on the endangered list.
“I will say that just maybe everyone has been barking up the wrong tree regarding the Alien's cultural attitude.” I lugged an armload of dirty pots and pans to the sink, “They might be more warlike than we think.”
“How do you figure that?” Tisha asked, perhaps a little too defensively.
Well, it was the Away Team's job to work that kind of stuff out. Not that I blame them. We were all in the dark about everything concerning our Visitors.
“Well,” I took a moment to reflect if anything I was thinking about saying was classified, “We know all too well how good they are with computers.”
Everyone nodded. If you didn't want your machine compromised, it sure as hell better be totally isolated with no way at all to remotely access it. We had gotten slammed hard in the first battles as they used our love of technology against us. Everything from pinpointing our troops’ locations from their cell phones, to taking over our airborne drones and using them against us. That was why we embarked on such an enthusiastic augmentation program to make our soldiers extremely formidable, even if they were dressed only in their underpants.
“So why are their 'bots and drones so bad in their autonomous mode?” I asked, “I've seen video games that had better AI responses. Yeah, sure it’s tough programming a machine to interact with a real world environment, but they have beaten that problem.
“And it’s not because they're klutzes in combat. In direct control mode, with them being remotely piloted from orbit, those damn things are killing machines, no pun intended,” I finished, sinking my burden in the hot soapy water.
“Could be just another unexplainable under-utilization of their technology,” Sheila pointed out while testing a pie to see if it was done, “We've certainly seen enough of that.”
“True,” Smiling, I began scrubbing, “it might also be another of those cultural things from technology landmines, like with Prometheus. They might have had problems with rogue AI's that makes them hesitant to really enable their robots' full potential.”
“You're wrong,” Dean said, coming inside smelling like hay, “They have those tanks which not only are very smart, but can command whole units of robots.”
“Tanks that have self-destruction protocols,” I replied, holding up a clean brush for emphasis, “They're deliberate 'point of failure' systems. It would still be easier to just build that kind of combat capability into all their bot's, but like I said, for some reason they haven't.
“Whether they fear autonomous war 'bots or just like to do the driving themselves,” I summarized, “It does appear that they do prefer to have tight control over their machines for whatever reason. I was just pointing out that one of those possible reasons might be that, despite their doing their fighting from orbit, they might be a lot more warlike than it seems.
“They are here invading after all,” I added with a smile.
“I disagree,” Dean stated, “You're jumping to conclusions. We have no evidence that the Tweeties are directly controlling these robots. I think it more likely all of them are computer controlled. A possible reason why could b
e the computer on their ship is simply more capable. It only follows they would send down local command units, and I expect to see a more autonomous trend in all their designs since this strategy isn't being very successful.
“What is your prediction?” he challenged, raising that brow of his again.
“Seeing how often we've been wrong about what they're going to do next, this is only a guess.” Never once did my smile falter. There was some information I'd gained the hard way that I wasn't going to share.
“I think they'll come up with a way to fox our jamming,” I replied, raising my brows to emphasized how much it was just that, a guess, “Perhaps it'll be a tech workaround or maybe something more active like a tactic targeting our jammers, but I think they will go far out of their way to avoid just what you're suggesting, making all of their 'bots and drones smarter.
“Of course, they just might do either of what we just said for completely different reasons,” I shrugged, letting my Southern accent do the talking, “They're Aliens and damn ain't they intent on proving it again and again.”
“Ain't that the truth!” Sheila mimicked my accent, laughing.
“You're not thinking about improvising from our agreed upon plans are you?” Dean half-glared suspiciously at me.
“Nope!” I grinned, “I think it's the perfect approach. Just getting them to a point where we're just talking at all is a step forward. Treating this like a social meeting, even as desperate as we are to have that 'meaningful dialogue', is our best bet to get anything useful out of this. Besides, it's a little too late for that anyways, but we have to start somewhere.”
“What do you mean it’s too late?” Tamara crossed her arms, “How else are we to end this conflict?”
“There isn't a country in the world right now that wouldn't lynch any or all of them without a second thought,” I sighed, “Everyone has lost someone dear to them in some way either directly or indirectly. Assuming that we survive this at all, 'peace' is no more a possibility than it was with Nazi Germany or the Empire of Japan.
“And I'm not going to mention how similar this 'expedition' is to situations out of our own history,” my grin turned very grim, “Think about Cortez and how, with just a few hundred men, he caused the collapse of the Aztec Empire. Even if we do somehow significantly discourage this group and cause them to leave, there is no guarantee that another bunch won't show up looking for fame and fortune at our expense.”
“There are similarities between your Age of Discovery and this current situation,” Tash said, standing at the backdoor, “One more technological culture advancing upon another at a lesser level of achievement.”
“However, the Aztecs were only a culture on the verge of discovering bronze smelting, confronting one that had steel and gunpowder,” yet another Visitor added, standing next to Tash, “To them, the Conquistadors were completely outside their frames of reference. Your third 'Clarke's Law' applies. 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.'”
“Earth,” Tash picked up from his companion, “On the other hand, was on the edge of discovering many of our technologies, needing only clues from examining our damaged machines to construct your own. Much to our dismay I might add,” he gave an Alien version of a shrug.
“May we enter?” he asked, taking in our surprise and then making introductions, “This is my comrade, Ralt.”
“Of course you can, Tash,” Dean greeted, “You and your companion are welcome here. Just don't let all the warmth out.”
What followed was the usual exchange of introductions and handshakes. I did see Tash and Ralt's eyes widen, as I did his people's open palm over the chest salute. Dean didn't forget those, but chose to do the hand shaking thing first.
And no, I didn't miss his narrow eyes at being one upped. It seemed he had a sizable ego thing going. That didn't bother me in the slightest. All I was hoping for was to learn anything I could to help keep me alive the next time our Guests' toys were trying to kill me. That, and of course surviving Thanksgiving with Sheila and whoever else I could save if this dinner turned sour.
“You're early,” I stepped to the door, taking off my cooking apron, “We have space in the barn to hide your ship.”
“Your military has increased its observation of this region,” Ralt replied after exchanging glances with Tash, “We had to leave early to ensure we could make it on time, given the cautiousness of our descent.”
It was us Humans' turn to exchange looks. Benson was no fool, and he had his backers that also believed in that 'Scorched Earth', 'No Quarter' strategy. Dean had to knock on quite a few doors before he got even this quasi official sanction that Tamara's presence gave our venture. Maybe my colleagues were concerned, but I knew different. If the dear General had the chance, he would shoot down our Guest's Saucer and dance on the wreckage afterward. As far as he was concerned, a White or Truce Flag was good only for luring the unwary into his sights.
“Well,” I said, picking up my parka, “we better get it under decent cover. Your stealth systems are good, but your ship can still be spotted.”
“Not ship,” Ralt corrected, “by your standards, you would say a boat. It's not able to voyage between stars, just travel within a planetary system. A ship can carry a boat, but a boat can't carry a ship.”
“Please allow us our delusions of grandeur regarding our modest space exploration accomplishments,” I smiled trying to not think too much about Voyager One, the space probe that had bought this whole alien invasion thing down upon us.
“Actually, it was that lack that convinced us this planet was worth the expense,” the Visitor countered. Unlike Tash who had bright yellow furry feathers, his was iridescent blue. “Most cultures who have managed to send probes or vessels beyond their solar system, usually have come much further. Nuclear pulse driven vessels are well within your capabilities, but for some reason your people declined to develop them. That deficiency convinced our backers that perhaps humans were … slow.”
“Yeah,” I grimaced, “and we accuse you guys of not fully developing your technology. Like with your problems with quantum engines, we had some bad experiences. Early in our atomic age we dropped two nukes on a beaten, but deeply entrenched enemy. At the time, it seemed a good idea, but we really didn't appreciate just how terrible nuclear weapons truly were. As we learned, it left scars.
“Many still have a knee jerk reaction that anything relating to nuclear power is automatically bad, disregarding any and all the peaceful uses.” Sighing, as we walked to the barn, I asked, “So was it that probe's exiting of our solar system that made us a target?”
“The short answer is yes,” our Visitor answered, “There are protections for those less advanced, but it is thought that being able to build devices that can leave your home system passes a kind of test.”
“In truth, humans are not alone in the misuse of nuclear energy and other technologies,” he admitted, leading me to where they parked their 'boat', “The pursuit of technology can ruin a world. The very reason we are here is because our own home is in such bad condition from not only the kind of problems you're familiar with, but others you have yet to discover.
“We rejoiced when we entered this system and found not one spacecraft that could contest us.” He stood at his boat's entry way, “It was not pleasant to find our celebration was premature. You were far further along in any number of areas than many of those with more developed space flight.
“As Tash said,” he repeated, “you were nearly at the early point of our own technological achievements. Imagine if those Spanish Conquistadors had instead met pragmatic Roman Legionaries. It wouldn't have taken much for the Romans to replicate at least crude versions of the invaders weapons.”
“No,” I agreed, “It wouldn't have and the Spaniards would've gotten a big surprise when they tried to play everyone against themselves like Cortez did the Aztecs.
“Come on,” I moved things along, “let's get this thing into our makeshift hanger. T
hen, we can talk some more.”
Nodding, he went into his 'boat' as I watched. Conveniently, he'd parked almost right next to the barn. It took a bit of work, but I got the wide barn doors open, despite the blocking snow and ice. Ralt had the hard job maneuvering the otherworldly craft though the opening meant for tractors and livestock. He had to turn, bank and twist it a bit, but he did get it inside. It was a testimony to how agile the Alien machines were with their quantum drives.
After being shot far too many times by their aerial drones, I was all too aware of how nimble they were. Not that I was paranoid, but I did have my thumb on my Q-box button. Halcyon had proved very hard to kill, but as Craig, I was vulnerable. Not that Tash or Ralt had proven themselves untrustworthy, but more that I'd been exposed to far too much of Benson's 'at any cost' philosophy.
Still, it was a relief to remove my hand that was casually near my Q-box as the saucer's hatch sealed seamlessly behind Ralt as he left it. I honestly had no idea of the weapons load out of one of these 'boats'. The one Visitor we had for sure killed instead had been traveling in something like an oversized version of their aerial drones.
For all that I knew, this thing could be an unarmed sports model, but I really doubted it. Trust only went so far, and that applied to all of us, Human and Alien. He probably scanned the barn really good to make sure he could blow his way out if he had to. An old wooden structure, a 'whiff' of plasma burner and it would go up like a match, which wouldn't bother the 'boat' at all.
“So,” I restarted our conversation, “How do you guys know so much about Earth history?”
“How else?” his beak like mouth gave what I thought might be a smile, “The internet. One of the first things we did after entering orbit was to copy it. However, having all that information didn't do us a lot of good not knowing what questions to ask or to even understand the answers, given your cultural context.”
In their opening salvo in this invasion, they'd caused wholesale chaos as they took down computer networks the whole world over, crashing the internet. The irony of our Visitors having the only complete copy of our archives was bitter. Sure, we had carefully guarded pieces and parts, but much irreplaceable information would forever be lost to us.