Quiet Invasion

by Sarah Zettel

  But only if they were fast enough, only if they were right. Otherwise, they would be doing nothing but killing the city a piece at a time.

  T’sha closed her mind against the thought and flew.

  Chapter Fifteen

  YAN SU SAT IN front of the full membership of the Colonial Affairs Committee of the United Nations. Their hearing room was something out of another age, with a crystal dome and green marble floor, polished wooden trim, benches and tables. All around the walls, gold leaf picked out the words of great sages from throughout history, messages of tolerance, patience, long thought, and calm.

  Calm especially, she needed that today. She surveyed the committee, all twenty-two of them. She was number twenty-three. She had kept her appointment by hook, crook, and means that did not always bear the light of day, but she had kept it. Now, though, her colleagues all watched her with hard eyes and skeptical faces.

  Nothing was eased by the fact that the holotank in the center of the crescent bench was activated to show the three Secretaries-General—Kim Sun, Avram Haight, and Ursula Kent. They sat in their conservative clothes and comfortable chairs with desks in front of them that had tidy rows of screen rolls laid out for convenient reference. The Secretaries looked cool, detached. The souls of worldly reason, they waited to see what the committee brought to light.

  From the beginning, Su had known the events on Venus would end up here, and she had thought she’d be ready to speak about them. But now that she was here, she was no longer sure. She had faced down the committee before, but never had her prepared speech seemed so…absurd. She was used to arguing civil rights, articles of incorporation, land ownership, and mineral exploitation rights. She was not used to making announcements of discoveries. Especially not like this.

  Su glanced at the representation of Helen Failia, who sat next to her in another holotank. The real Helen was in her private office on Venera, wearing an assembler rig and watching the proceedings through her wall screen. The image beside Su sat as still as a stone, except for her eyes. Grim exhaustion still hung about Helen from dealing with the sudden deaths of the Cusmanos brothers aboard Venera, and those tired, determined eyes scanned the members of the C.A.C. They looked for the members’ reactions and tried to judge what Helen should do or say next.

  The initial announcement about the contact with aliens had already been made. Now that the committee had sufficiently calmed down, it was time to move on and give them something else to chew over.

  Su didn’t give Helen the chance to do or say anything. Speed-of-light delays could be so useful at times. Su just cleared her throat and spoke with a confidence that had more to do with political experience than honest belief. “I would like to take this moment to say that Dr. Failia and the governing board for Venera Base were quite right in bringing this situation to our attention immediately. This is a diplomatic event unparalleled in human history, and as such, it deserves to be addressed with immediate and undivided attention.

  “We must not,” Su went on, “no matter how much our imaginations want to revert to old stories of invasion and attack, forget for a moment that our first indication that these…people existed was when they performed a rescue of seven human beings. Let me say that again. They rescued seven human beings. Seven human beings whose lives would have been lost if not for the selfless intervention of the aliens.”

  Screen rolls rustled and Patrick James, a fat, florid committee member with a thatch of yellow hair looked up. “What about the eighth human being? The report says the scarab had a crew of eight.”

  “Yes,” said Helen’s projection when the question reached her. “The eighth crew member, Bailey Heathe, was killed in the initial accident. His remains were not recoverable.” She did not glance at Su. Helen had told Su why the remains were not recoverable. They had agreed that that particular revelation should be left for later, if it ever needed to be brought out at all.

  Secretary Avram Haight, a needle-thin man with pallid brown skin and his hair cut short under his black cap spoke. “Have these…People…said what they are doing here?”

  This was going to be tricky. Su and Helen had worked on the wording for an hour and agreed that Helen, as the one from the scene, should deliver it.

  “They are interested in surveying the planet,” said Helen.

  “Just surveying?” Even through the holotank, Su could feel the weight of Secretary Haight’s gaze. “This is an exploratory team?”

  The question traveled to Venus. Screen rolls were shuffled. Eyes glanced around the room, measuring reaction, guessing intentions. Su’s gaze met Edmund Waicek’s and saw nothing there but cold hostility. Frezia Cheney had been as good as her word, and Edmund’s spinners were now all in a scramble, reexplaining his every statement against the colonies, trying to salvage the impression that his judgment was sound and unbiased. There was even some careful talk of a conflict-of-interest hearing. Very careful, but there it was.

  Every little bit helped. Some people were finally beginning to get the hint that a completely anticolonial viewpoint was no longer flying with the entire population of Mother Earth.

  Finally, Helen’s answer reached the hearing chamber. “No, Sir, it is not just an exploratory team,” she said. Her voice was calm, but Su could see how tightly she held herself. “They wish to assess the possibility of establishing a permanent colony on Venus.”

  Here it comes. Su held her breath. But the explosion did not happen. Instead the committee just murmured and whispered. Even Jasmine Latimer, who went in for shouting and pounding the table, blanched only slightly.

  Maybe we can pull this off. Maybe it won’t have to be a circus.

  “Dr. Failia.” Secretary Kent unrolled a screen and swept the gaze of her overlarge blue eyes across it. “What are the Venerans doing now?”

  Again the speed-of-light delay stretched out. Helen’s image sat at Su’s side, making motions Helen had made six minutes ago. Does Edmund know I raked his background back up? Su found herself wondering. Probably not, or she would have felt the backlash by now. No, her campaign to keep him busy appeared to be working.

  At least something is. Keep your focus, Su. This is not about Edmund; this is about Venera.

  Helen’s image spoke. “We have asked members of the U.N. investigative team to establish communication with the People.” Helen had her hands folded together in front of her. Su tried not to notice her white knuckles. The statement was only a minor stretch. Dr. Hatch was a team member, and Dr. Kenyon was not really a Veneran. “The People seem quite willing to talk.”

  Secretary Kent looked down her long nose at Helen. “Has it been made quite clear that no one on Venera has any power to negotiate any kind of treaty?”

  When that question reached her, Helen answered with forced patience. “Yes, Secretary Kent. Everyone is aware of this.”

  Su minutely adjusted the table microphone. “Dr. Failia decided to address the C.A.C. immediately because Venera lacks trained mediators, linguists, or diplomats at this time. A new team needs to be assembled as soon as possible.” Several of the committee members nodded in approval, but everyone else seemed to be waiting for the word from on high. The faces of the Secretaries were not revealing.

  “It is very clear we need a new team,” said Secretary Sun. He looked like a young, vigorous man with a full head of black hair, a round, open face, and eyes that rivaled Secretary Kent’s for their size. Su had once heard an estimate of his yearly bill for med-trips and body-mod. There were counties in North America that didn’t make that much in a year. “What we want to establish here is that Venera Base has not overstepped its bounds.” Secretary Sun looked directly at Helen. “Why are you still allowing your people contact with the aliens?”

  More waiting. Su’s fists tightened until her nails pressed painfully into her palms. Too much waiting. It was stretching her thin. She had waited for Helen to contact her, even after she had found out there were aliens. She had waited for Mr. Hourani’s answers to all the question
s raised by the shipyard bombing. She had waited for each and every one of her questions to reach Helen sitting up there alone in her Throne Room as they tried to work out a strategy for coping with a miracle so huge that Su’s mind shied away from contemplating it.

  “The people establishing contact with the aliens are not my people,” said Helen. The gaze from her image met the gaze of Secretary Sun’s image without hesitation. “They’re yours. The optical specialist you sent us, Dr. Veronica Hatch, has taken charge of the communication project.”

  Su wondered what Dr. Hatch was going to say when she heard how Helen worded that particular fact.

  “She did this without your permission?” Like Secretary Kent, Secretary Sun had perfected the art of looking down his nose. Su supposed it was something that came with high office.

  Images stared at each other while their physical bodies shifted in offices continents apart. And here we sit with these illusions, waiting to pass judgment on each other. Stop it, Su. You’re being ridiculous.

  Helen’s image spread its hands. “I was directed by the C.A.C. to cooperate fully with their team in all matters pertaining to the Discovery. Communicating with the People to determine if they built the Discovery and for what purpose it was built, seemed pertinent to the Discovery.”

  Silence, except for a few coughs and the rustling of fabric and screen rolls. Su suppressed a smile. They’d scored a touch with that one, but it was a long way from a telling blow.

  “Forgive my ignorance, Dr. Failia,” Jasmine Latimer glanced at her colleagues and the Secretaries, as if seeking permission to speak. “But how is an optical specialist helping to communicate with the aliens?”

  Helen cocked her head, looking intelligently interested, an expression Su had seen her use at a hundred cocktail parties.

  The question reached Helen, and her answer returned. “We have so far been unable to establish whether the People can hear on frequencies we use or whether they hear at all. They do, however, have eyes that are similar in construction to human eyes. Because of this, Dr. Hatch speculated that we might be able to communicate visually.”

  “So,” said Jasmine. “Dr. Hatch is teaching them English?”

  Helen held her interested pose. The question went out, the answer came back. “We’ve had to teach them very little.”

  The words were out of Helen’s mouth before Su could do anything. They had already been spoken six minutes ago. There was no way to censor them or talk over them. They were spoken.

  “We are perfecting the communication hardware,” Helen’s image went on. “Dr. Hatch is working on a holography display that will give us both mobility and a full range of communications options.”

  Su did not crumple in her chair, but she wanted to. Too late, too late.

  “Just a moment, please, Dr. Failia,” Secretary Kent interrupted by raising her hand slightly. “Would you please elaborate on that earlier point. You had to teach them very little? About what? About English?”

  Helen kept her expression admirably placid. Su felt certain that she spent the whole long time delay inwardly kicking herself.

  “The People seem to have a facility with language,” said Helen. “They are picking up English rapidly.”

  “Dr. Failia,” said Secretary Haight sternly. “How long do the aliens say they’ve been on Venus?”

  For the first time, worry lines creased Helen’s forehead. “They haven’t said.”

  “Have you asked?” Secretary Haight reached for one of the rolls on his desk and opened it. “Wait.” He held up a hand, but his attention stayed focused on the roll. “Let me change that question. How long have you been aware of their existence?”

  “For ten days,” said Helen. Her voice was still calm, but Su could hear the strain creeping in around the edges. “As soon as we learned they were there, I contacted Ms. Yan and asked her to arrange this session.”

  “I wonder.” Secretary Kent laid her hands, one on top of the other, on her desk.

  “About what, Secretary Kent?” asked Su.

  Secretary Kent blinked her huge blue eyes. “Your people were so resistant to having a team of U.N. observers come to Venera Base. It was almost as if you were afraid the team would see something you did not want them to see.”

  At last, Su saw a chance to step in. “The only reason Venera Base did not want the U.N. team on Venus was that they were concerned about possible interference with an ongoing scientific investigation of the first importance. The team members were unknown quantities and the Venerans had no say in their selection.” Well, little say, Su added silently. Now was not the time to bring up Helen’s lobbying efforts or Su’s own covert maneuvers.

  “And yet,” said Secretary Sun, “there are these reports that the Discovery was in fact fraudulent.” He gestured to the rolls on his desk.

  Helen hesitated, visibly gathering her inner resources. Su answered for her again. Save your voice, get your bearings, Helen. “The investigation of the Discovery is ongoing.”

  “And I understand from this report that the Venerans are making use of the laser that is part of the Discovery in order to communicate with the aliens?” Secretary Sun sounded overly innocent, as if there was nothing behind his question but honest curiosity.

  All at once, Su saw where the questioning was going. For the first time in her whole political career, her mouth went completely dry. She felt the eyes of her colleagues on her, Edmund Waicek’s most of all. I missed it. I had all the facts in front of me, and I completely missed this interpretation. Oh, Mother Creation…

  “It is part of the holography system, yes,” came Helen’s answer. She hadn’t seen it yet. Or maybe she had. These words were six minutes old. Maybe it had dawned on her by now.

  “Convenient that it was in working order, isn’t it?” said Secretary Kent. “And just what you needed?”

  Cut it off, Su. Su leaned forward. “Secretary, fellow committee members, we are all aware that when a complex occurrence is scrutinized, the separate events rarely add up directly. Loose facts can be stuffed into any number of boxes.” Heaven knows I’ve done it often enough, and there’s enough going on here that you could find an interpretation to fit every need. “What is before us now, and what must remain before us, is that for the first time, we are speaking to another intelligent species. We must send a diplomatic team to properly welcome them and begin formal contact.”

  “A diplomatic team will most certainly be sent,” said Secretary Haight. He sounded far too righteous for Su’s liking. “But there are one or two other background matters that need to be cleared up first. The first is this photograph we were sent.”

  Photograph? The photo appeared on Su’s desk screen. A copy sped toward Venus. Su, suddenly afraid, looked down at the black-and-white satellite shot that caught the alien’s portal.

  Su’s heart thudded once, hard. Where did they get that from? They shouldn’t have that. The room was tense, silent. Su realized they were waiting for Helen to receive the image. Su looked to the holotank and saw the representation of her old friend trapped inside, almost as if it were Helen herself who sat in that clear cage. The image looked down, and focused, understood what was before it, and Su saw no possibility of explanation appear on Helen’s tight, distraught face.

  “According to the satellite record,” said Secretary Haight, “this picture was taken over a year ago. That’s well before the original Discovery was announced and certainly well before you saw fit to report to us that you had met aliens in your personal backyard.”

  They had plenty of time to study the confusion on Helen’s face, how her jaw began to work back and forth, how she had to struggle to still it, the way her hand trembled as it lifted to brush one white lock of hair back behind her ear.

  But, in the end, Helen lifted her gaze and spoke firmly. “I am sure you are aware that our satellites record thousands of hours of images in a single year. We do not have the personnel or the computing power to analyze all of them carefully.” She glanced
down at the photo’s caption and her voice took on an added measure of calm assurance. “This was not of an area under active study. It bears a close resemblance to a land feature known as a ‘tick.’ Like the vast majority of all our satellite imagery, it was filed for later study.”

  “But you must see it from our point of view, Dr. Failia.” Secretary Kent had a smile on her face. She was once again, all innocence, all righteousness. All for the cameras and public record. “This looks a little strange.”

  “A scientific inquiry is not a political or legal inquiry, Secretary,” Su said smoothly. “Particularly from a privately funded project. The researchers must concentrate on areas most likely to yield interesting or useful results. As Dr. Failia said, this”—she gestured at the photo—“appeared to be a common Venusian land feature. Nothing to excite additional inquiry. A review of Venera’s work practices can certainly be arranged for another time. What is most important now—”

  “Is that we understand exactly what our position with regard to these aliens is,” said Secretary Haight, cutting Su off. “And to do so, we need to know the truth about how long the Venerans have been in contact with them and exactly what they’ve been negotiating.”

  When the question reached her, the color drained from Helen’s face. “And when we have established this, then what?”

  Secretary Haight looked at her as if Helen had just missed something glaringly obvious. “Then Venera Base will be placed under the direct control of the Colonial Affairs Committee, which will oversee personnel assignments and all other requirements pertaining to the alien dialogue.”

  The words crept the long, slow way to Venus. Helen’s face remained frozen and paper white. “I see,” was all the reply that returned.

  “You are not being accused of anything yet, Dr. Failia.” Secretary Kent’s voice was soothing, almost sweet with reassurance. “We are merely asking for clarifications.”