by Gini Koch
“Oh, yeah, we do.” Reader sounded pissed and resigned. “No bombs there, so there’s that. Otherwise? It’s the same thing only worse, because no one who could be a calming influence—like you or Paul—is there. To the point where I had to send your Secret Service and Centaurion details over there in order to keep the peace.”
The mere fact that Reader somehow thought that I was a calming influence was proof enough that things were out of control, let alone the reassignment of staff. “Did we do a video feed between the two locations?”
“We did, at Paul’s request. He’d hoped that the religious side would positively influence the political side.”
“Wow, he really hasn’t been paying attention, has he? Who’s controlling the feeds?”
“We are, mostly.”
“Great, I want to see what’s going on in the other meeting. Can we get it on split screen?”
While Reader sent a text, because it was too loud to make a call, White pointed to the screen. “There’s more.”
We looked to see that the screen was no longer one big image. Instead there was Jeff in one corner, and shots of every ship we’d been expecting filling five other slots, Z’porrah ship included. Sure, they were shots from space, taken from the space station most likely. But most of the ships were close. As in, near the moon close.
The last two screens showed what I was pretty sure was the Heads of State meeting. It was filled with Middle Eastern people, men mostly, all looking formal, and all also fighting. “Well, at least we can see what’s going on. And vice versa?”
“Yes, they have the same screen setup there. Doesn’t matter, really, though. Looks like everyone else is almost here.” Reader’s voice was tight. “I thought we had more time.”
Considered this. “The aliens can see us. Radio and TV waves carry, per everyone in the Alpha Centauri system, and they’re all more scientifically advanced than we are. They were waiting.”
“For what?” Reader asked.
“To see how we greeted the Themnir,” White answered.
“Exactly. We didn’t fire on the Themnir and we didn’t attack them in horror. We allowed them to land and then Jeff and Alexander greeted them as if they were old friends. So everyone else sped the hell up to get here as fast as possible.”
“All our planning seems to be for nothing, though.” Reader sounded stressed. “We need more time.”
“We don’t have it.” The feed had switched the meeting room image to a single screen so as to have the last screen of the eight show what was the Persian Gulf. “What are they saying?”
“That the Faradawn have requested to land in the Persian Gulf,” Butler said from behind us. “That’s what some of the arguing is about. But only some.”
Heard a lot of curse words along with “Death to America” and “Death to Aliens” and similar. Sounded like a Club 51 True Believers rally. Raheem was up front, under the big screen setup, but he was getting shouted at, too. Basically, as with any diplomatic type of mission I went on, this was an unmitigated disaster.
Reader was right—we didn’t have time for this.
Headed for the front of the room, still keeping hold of White, Reader and Butler both following us. Got there then let go of White’s hand. Grabbed one of the A-Cs working the media stuff. “You know who I am?” He nodded. “Great. Then I need a lectern and podium and a teleprompter that’s showing me what’s on the screens that will be behind me. I also want to ensure that anything I do or say will be broadcast to the others receiving the feed from this room. And I want that done at the fastest hyperspeed you guys have.”
The A-C grabbed one of the others and they raced off.
“James, get to Paul and make sure you’re ready to get him and our people out of here if I give the signal.”
“What signal is that?”
“Oh, you’ll know it when I say or do it.”
“Oh, you don’t know what the signal will be. Gotcha.” Reader gave me a shot of the cover boy grin. He looked a lot more relaxed all of a sudden. “I’m better with our form of routine.”
He went off and I took my bag from White. “Let’s see, might I have somehow put a cordless microphone in here?” Algar was good to me—sure enough, there was a cordless mic. Didn’t have to ask if it was wired or tuned to the right channel.
Closed the bag and handed it back to White. Ensured the mic was on, then tapped it. Hard. Could definitely hear something. Good. Always nice to be right, or at least right-ish.
“I heard the microphone thump in the feed from the other room,” White said. “You should be transmitting to both.”
“Good.” The A-Cs returned with the setup I’d asked for. Appeared to be working. Well and good. They also gave me a little Bluetooth to slip into and over my ear. Did so. Presumably this would let whoever was at the controls give me intel. We’d used similar at the end of Operation Epidemic, after all.
“What shall I do to assist, Missus Martini?”
“Mister White, could you please take the currently only sane leader in the region and ensure that Raheem is in the room but extremely safe? Probably within Animal Planet and Friends, since they’re all in the room and apparently having an effect of some kind on the crowd. Keep Mona with him, too.” All our non A-C aliens were literally shoving people in the back of the room into their seats. I approved of this action.
“I can and will. Your Majesty, if I may?”
The king looked worried. “They are not above ordering everyone’s death.”
“Oh, Raheem, never fear. Death is coming, whether they order it or not. We’re just deciding how fast we die and by whose hand. You know, democratic style.” For, as far as I was concerned, the last time until this was over, one way or another.
“What shall I do?” Butler asked as White hustled Raheem to relative safety.
“Oh, I’ll need you doing translations. For me and for them. Are you up to that?”
He smiled. “I can talk as fast as an A-C now. But your translation chip should ensure I don’t need to translate for you.” Realized he was right—I’d understood all the nasty stuff being shouted earlier, after all.
“Okay, awesome, and no need for that speed level unless we need to get them to stop rioting. None who I need to get through to can hear at that speed.”
“Understood. I can also project as if I were holding a microphone.”
“It’s always nice when bad things work out and end up good, isn’t it?” Well, no time like the present. Turned and faced the bedlam. Took a deep breath and channeled Jeff and Mom both. “ENOUGH!”
CHAPTER 64
MY BELLOWING wasn’t up to Jeff’s standards, but I held my own. Butler had an impressive bellow, too. He was translating not only my words but my tone and volume level. The room started to quiet. “I meant it,” I bellowed again. “Sit down, all of you, and SHUT UP!”
One of the many men wearing a kufiyah stayed up and shook his fist at me, as Butler repeated what I’d said in a variety of languages. Or at least I assumed he did. Just as Butler had said, the universal translator was working on all the foreign languages in the room. For me and presumably everyone else from Centaurion Division who had them, at any rate.
Looked at the small screen in front of me, which now had a shot of the Heads of State room on it. They were acting no more mature and statesmanlike than the people in here. “That goes for you in the Burj Khalifa, too!”
Checked to see where the camera was that was feeding from this room into the other. Spotted Tim, waving at me, near to what sure looked like a camera set up in the far back. All my team was back there with him, as well, some protecting the camera. Okay, I was playing to the cheap seats. Noted a couple of floating camera drones as well. Wasn’t sure if they’d always been in here or if the A-Cs doing my AV work had brought them. Decided not to care. If they were weapons, there were enough people who
could shoot accurately in the room, myself among them.
Time to get the quieting to go down to silence. “You will all quiet down and stop this ridiculous posturing and all the other crap, and you’ll do it now.”
“Why should we listen to you, woman?” someone who was probably representing one of the many Islamic factions shouted. Of course, there were plenty who were here clearly representing the Judeo-Christian viewpoints, and they looked no more likely to do what I said and as if they agreed with this man’s question. In fact, most of them were nodding in support of this man’s question. A common enemy tended to make you join forces.
The Queen Regent Speech wasn’t going to work in here, though I noted the Heads of State room was quieting far more quickly. Many of them had been in the room when I’d arrived in Bahrain, so that might have been why. Or else the Secret Service had gotten fed up and pulled their Big American Guns out and mentioned that a weapons malfunction wasn’t impossible.
Looked at the people in the room. Really looked at them. And realized that I was going to have to tell the truth, because we didn’t have time for any kind of diplomacy.
“You all disgust me.”
Interesting. This got a lot of shocked looks. Especially once Butler finished running through all the languages in the room. An android translator made a lot of sense—no wonder George Lucas had used one.
“Look at yourselves. I mean, really look. You’re the people who lead the hearts and minds of the majority of the world. And you can’t even be in a room together for more than fifteen minutes without acting like the worst examples of humanity we have.” Paused to let Butler catch up again.
Pointed to the screens behind me when he was done. “Do you see those ships? Do you? They see us, they see you. And let me tell you something—they aren’t coming to Earth for any reasons you’ve told yourselves. Least of all because of who you say God is or isn’t.”
“Have received images of what all the aliens seeking asylum look like,” a voice I recognized said in my ear while I did my next translation pause. Serene was running the show. “Faradawn ship also says that they have images of the Aicirtap and what they’ve done. Will wait for your cue for when to display.”
“In fact,” I continued, “the only religious leader in this room who’s never led with hatred at any time isn’t a human. He’s an alien.” Well, half-alien, but that wasn’t important now. Gower was an A-C in mind, thought, and action far more than he was a human.
“And his people came here to help us. And, because they were here, others came to help us, too. But before you all start feeling warm and fuzzy, or ready to shove all the aliens off the planet, let me remind you that this isn’t Star Trek. No one, none of the new aliens currently on Earth or heading toward us with intent to land and stretch their legs, tentacles, or whatever, are coming because we’re evolved or civilized. None of them are coming because we’re compassionate or kind. They’re not coming because we’re scientifically advanced enough to equal them. Because we are none of those things, the people I’m addressing in this room in particular.”
This was earning me a lot of nasty looks. Whatever.
“No, I came here to appeal to all of you. To ask you to put aside the ridiculous fights you perpetrate among all your flocks. The fights over skin color, country of origin, who someone loves, what gender gets to be important or not, and, most of all, what each one of you calls God and God’s laws. I came to ask you to stop, for one whole damn day, to stop being the petty, manipulative, mean-spirited, nasty pieces of work humans are. I wanted you to be something better. But you can’t, can you?”
“Have made contact with Z’porrah ship,” Serene said in my ear. “They are asking for clemency, just as the others are. Jeff has agreed. Their ship will be landing with the Vata ships guarding it. They’re referring to Jeff as the King Regent. Every race has referred to him that way.”
Butler was done, so I continued. “But you know what? That’s alright. Because it doesn’t matter now. The aliens are coming and we are not going to stop them. We are going to let them in. And nothing you do will stop that. For a variety of reasons. But here’s the main one.
“All the aliens in all these amazing spaceships, they’re coming to Earth not because we’re good, or smart, or kind, or compassionate, or anything positive. They’re coming because we’re those nasty pieces of work. They’re running to us for protection, just like someone would run to a warlord for protection—you don’t have to like the warlord or think he’s any good as a human being, but if he keeps you alive and protects you from the other people trying to kill you, he gets your loyalty.
“Think about that. We have six ships full of alien lifeforms fleeing to us, to Earth. Asking us to protect them. This is our real introduction to the Greater Galactic Community. And all you people can do is argue about whose ancient, multi-translated book or set of rules is the right one. All you do is complain that someone is ‘other,’ whine about slights committed by others long dead but clung to as if who said what to whom a thousand years ago matters today. Well, guess what? Humans breed true. Truer than dogs or cats. There is almost nothing different about any of us at the DNA level. We are one race with minor external differences to make us interesting. Want to see different, gang? Let’s see how ‘other’ the people in this room you want to hit or blow up or whatever look to you in a few moments.”
“Pictures going up now,” Serene said. “Teleprompter will share the race names for you.”
“Let me share who’s coming to visit, the star systems they claim as theirs, and the names for their ships. You’ve already seen the Themnir, Sirius, Roving Planet.” Interestingly, the reaction to the Themnir was just mildly negative this time. So there was hope. A sliver of it, but a sliver was better than nothing.
“You’ve also seen the Turleens, Sirius, and you’ve also seen that they are their own spaceships.” Didn’t mention that we had one in the room. Several people knew because Mossy had shoved them into a sitting position by flying up and standing on their shoulders.
A giant, humanoid honeybee hit my teleprompter. The reaction was the general gasp and pulling back thing humans did when faced with a six-limbed giant insect. “Lyssara, Tau Ceti, and they call their ship a Comb, it’s not a Borg ship.”
What looked truly like walking, living trees came on next. Mostly willows, but there were some other pretty tress represented, too. And yet, they were still humanoid. The life in this galaxy was fascinating. “Faradawn, Tau Ceti, Treeship.”
A humanoid butterfly crossed with a fish was the next colorful entry. It was pretty, but not something you’d want to snuggle up to. “Khylida, Tau Ceti. Q’vox, Fomalhaut, both in the Faradawn Treeship.” The Q’vox really did look like giant minotaurs, emphasis on giant. A picture of a Q’vox standing next to a Turleen and a Themnir popped up, presumably for us to be clear on the size differentials.
No time to admire the new people, or listen to the murmurings of the crowd, because there were more new people coming on. Something that looked a lot like Sandy the Superconsciousness and His Fun Pals more than a human hit the screens. It was somewhat in the shape of a manta ray, or a man, depending on the moment, and definitely fit the cloudlike and ethereal yet solid enough description Wruck had given me. “Vrierst, Upsilon Andromedae, and their ship doesn’t have an official name, so we’ll call it as we’d see it and say it’s a Manta Ray.” This actually earned me some nervous chuckles. Hoped this meant the reality of our situation was coming home to roost.
Our next picture came up. Finally, some cute and cuddly in the form of some people who really looked like large golden lemurs, complete with prehensile tails, three long fingers and one equally long thumb on all four paws, triangular ears that moved around a lot, and bright, black eyes. “Draea, Yggethnia, Jewel of the Sky.” Pretty name for a ship that still looked like a giant hand trowel to me.
Another cute and cuddly one. Two i
n a row. Didn’t expect it to last. “Aschaffen, Yggethnia, Jewel of the Sky.” These looked like tall humanoid sloths with silver hair or fur, extremely large, lavender eyes, three fingers and one opposable thumb on their hands and four toes on their feet, all of which had long claws that were like a sloth’s. Or a bear’s.
“Yah!”
Had no idea who in the audience shouted, but couldn’t blame them. “Nemmen, Tau Ceti, Faradawn Treeship.” These looked like rat-sized cockroaches. That walked upright. Wouldn’t have thought that we’d hit a race that would have made the Themnir look attractive, but the Nemmen had that sewn up, six hands down.
“We have many more,” Serene shared. “But there are less of them than these others. The remainder are refugees and for the most part, per the Faradawn, the very last of their kind. Refugees with no homes anymore are mostly on the Faradawn Treeship, but some are on the Jewel of the Sky.”
“There are more, and we’ll show you their pictures, but I think you get the general gist. For every race that looks like the A-Cs, there’s a race that doesn’t resemble us at all.” Pictures flashed onto the screens. Mercifully I saw no snake people, for which I was truly thankful.
Looked out over the audience. “Now, look at the people in this room, the people around you. The other humans. And ask yourselves if we really need to spill more of our own blood in the name of God, or if we can stop that.”
“But you’re letting these aliens come here,” someone shouted from the audience. Not nastily, which was a shocker, but with fear in his tone.
“We are. Because the reason these people are running to Earth—running to the people so busy killing and doing terrible things to each other for the stupidest reasons that they haven’t bothered with things like world peace, solving the hunger crisis, curing deadly illnesses, or achieving long-range spaceflight—is because what’s chasing them is terrifying. More terrifying than us.”