The Serene Invasion

by Eric Brown

  “What a lovely surprise. But you said nothing about coming over! How long are you here for?”

  “A last minute decision to attend a conference in Birmingham. I arrived in London this morning, but the conference doesn’t start for a couple of days.”

  Sally reached out and gripped her friend’s hand. “You’re staying with us, and no arguments. You’ve not booked in anywhere?”

  “I was about to try here.” She indicated the inn at her back.

  “Don’t be silly. I want you to see Hannah.”

  Kath beamed. “Can’t wait. She’s five now? She must have grown in the past two years…”

  “It’s really that long?” Sally shook her head.

  “And Geoff?” Kath took a sip of her orange juice.

  “He’s very well. You know him — Mr Imperturbable. He never changes. He’s in Tokyo at the moment, covering the opening of a big art gallery, then moving north to shoot the opening ceremony of the latest arboreal city.”

  “He certainly gets about.”

  Sally smiled. She had told no one about the fact that Geoff liaised for the Serene; she suspected that Kath knew but was too diplomatic to mention the fact.

  “I’ll cook you something tonight and I’ll take tomorrow off. Let’s go for a long walk.”

  “Just like old times.”

  In their student days they’d gone on jaunts along the Thames to Richmond, and spent hiking holidays in Wales and Scotland. Sally squeezed Kath’s hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

  “It’s nice to come home,” Kath said, smiling around at the idyllic setting.

  “You still think of England as ‘home’?”

  “For all the greening of New York and Long Island, it will never be my ‘green and pleasant land’.” She smiled. “Anyway, how’s work?”

  “I’m still enjoying it.”

  “And still general practice.”

  She nodded. “We got away from London over a year ago. I don’t know… perhaps I was getting old, but I couldn’t hack city life. I saw this post advertised, and the thought of rural Shropshire…”

  “‘Westward on the high-hilled plains, Where for me the world began…’” Kath quoted, and Sally laughed.

  “Housman, right? He always was one of your favourites.” Another odd side of Kath’s nature was her love, her adoration, for old poetry. Sally suspected that much of what she quoted were lines from obscure English poets.

  “And you’re settled here?”

  Sally nodded emphatically. “Very. Hannah’s taken to it like a fish to water.”

  “And Geoff?”

  Sally laughed. “I often think he’d be happy anywhere, just as long as he had me and Hannah and a good pub.” She looked at her friend, a suspicion forming. “Why do you ask?”

  Kath considered her orange juice. “Well… I’m recruiting good people, doctors in all fields, for a new project. I’m putting out feelers, testing the water with certain people I know and trust.”

  “A new project?” Sally echoed.

  “Before I talk about the project, Sally, I’ll tell you about what I’ve been doing.”

  Working with recovering drug addicts and alcoholics, Sally thought — and in the US at that. It was everything she considered anathema and contrary to the life she’d built for herself and her family here in Shropshire.

  “About six months ago I changed jobs,” Kath said. “Nearly a decade ago a Serene-sponsored think-tank was set up to look into humanity’s response to all the changes. Recently they began recruiting for more staff. The offer was too good to refuse.”

  “I thought you’d be working with your reclamation projects forever.”

  “Do you know something, the incidence of alcoholism and drug dependency has decreased by something like seventy per cent over the course of the past ten years.”

  Sally looked at her friend. “Since the arrival of the Serene.”

  “That’s right. Drug and drink dependency was always, largely, a class and income linked phenomenon. Cure poverty, joblessness, give people a reason to live, and the need for an opiate is correspondingly reduced. Since the coming of the Serene, and the societal changes they’ve brought about… Well, my job became little more than a sinecure. I was bored. I didn’t feel in the least guilty for leaving the post.”

  “Good for you. Wish I could say the same about Uganda.”

  “Still beating yourself up over that?” Kath admonished.

  Sally smiled ruefully. “Not really. I was washed up…” She waved. “Water under the bridge, Kath. I’ve bored you with all that before. Anyway, the new post…”

  Kath drained her orange juice and set the empty glass down on the condensation ring it had formed on the wooden table top. “For the vast majority of the human race,” she said, “the coming of the Serene has been a beneficial thing. No one can argue against that. Look at the changes — the reduction of poverty, famine, not to mention the fact that wars and violence of all kinds have been banished to the…” She stopped and laughed, “to the ‘dustbin of history’! Listen to me, Sally. I’m sounding like a textbook!”

  Sally smiled and pointed to Kath’s empty glass. “I don’t know about you, but I could kill another one.”

  Kath nodded. “And while you’re at the bar I’ll try to work out what I’m going to say without recourse to tabloid platitudes… Hey, recall those?”

  “Platitudes?”

  “Tabloids. Another vestige of a long gone era.”

  Sally picked up the empty glasses. “I’ll get those refills.”

  While she was at the bar, she looked at her friend through the mullioned window and thought about relocating Geoff and Hannah to the faraway USA. No matter how good the offer, how rewarding the work, she thought, I’m not going to do it.

  She returned with the drinks and took a mouthful of lager.

  “Where was I?” Kath said.

  “‘For the majority of the human race’…” Sally recapitulated.

  “Right. Well, in the early days there was lots of opposition. And understandably, on a superficial, knee-jerk reaction level. Some people, especially those in power and the rich, had a lot to lose. Everything was changing. All the old certainties were gone. For decades, centuries, we in the West had turned a blind eye to the inherent unfairness of how the world worked. We led easy, affluent life-styles for the most part, and who cared if that meant that the good life was at the expense of millions, billions, in the so-called third world whose poverty subsidised our greed?”

  Sally interrupted mildly, “Well, a few of us did object, Kath.”

  Her friend nodded. “Of course we did. But we were — if you don’t mind the phrase — pissing in the wind. We had too much against us. The combined might of government with vested interest and economic institutions that feared an upsetting of the status quo. But then the Serene come along and sweep everything aside.”

  “And…? Where is this leading, Kath?”

  “Sorry. I’m waffling. Right, so in the early days there was opposition, and a lot of it, which died off as the years progressed and the average citizens could reap the benefit of the changes. Who cared about a few powerful politicians, generals and fat cats who were no longer powerful or rich?” She paused, then went on, “The opposition didn’t vanish entirely, though — it went underground, developed an intricate, complex nexus of secretive cadres and cells made up for the most part of politicians, former tycoons, military leaders and their ilk. They assumed new roles in the new system — their expertise in many matters was considered valuable — but they remained discontented and…”

  “But surely they’re no threat to the new system?”

  Kath frowned. “Not as such, but they’re still a… a worry.”

  Sally regarded her friend, sure that there was something Kath was holding back. “So what has this got to do with your new post?”

  “Right. Well, I was contacted by a consortium of politicians, backed by the Serene, to trace and keep tabs on these peo
ple. I know — it sounds like something from a bad espionage novel. But when you think about it, it makes sense. My specialism is in psychiatry, and my early studies were in the field of power structures in industry. Anyway, for the past year I’ve been seconded to certain enterprises headed by former tycoons who, ten years ago, were vocal in their opposition to the Serene, and who still hold these views.”

  Sally regarded her drink and let the silence stretch. At last she said, “Right. I understand. What I fail to see is how I can be useful in all this.”

  “I’m not trying to inveigle you into some undercover spying network, Sally. I’ve told you all this to explain that the people I work for are close to the Serene, the so-called ‘self-aware entities’ we’ve all seen around. As an aid to my current work I’ve been asked to sound out a few professionals, mainly in the area of health care, and see if I could lure them into new posts. You wouldn’t be working with the old, recalcitrant tycoons, might I add.”

  Sally took a long drink, then asked, “So… what would the new post be?”

  Kath shrugged. “Very much like the job you hold here, general practice in a small, rural community.”

  Sally sat up. “So not in New York?”

  Kath smiled “No, not in New York.”

  “But in America, right?”

  “Wrong, not in America.”

  Sally laughed with exasperation. “Kath! Will you please tell me… where on Earth is this small rural community, then?”

  Kath held her gaze, silently, across the table. “That’s just it, Sally,” she said, “it’s not on Earth. It’s on Mars.”

  Sally blinked and lowered her glass. “Mars?” she said incredulously. “Did I hear you right? You said Mars?”

  Kath nodded. “Mars.”

  Sally shook her head. “Impossible. Do you know what conditions are like on Mars? An unbreathable atmosphere made up of carbon dioxide…” She tailed off as she saw Kath staring at her.

  “What?”

  Kath murmured, “Not anymore.”

  “You mean…?”

  “The Serene. They have terraformed the planet, made it habitable. It’s a new, pristine world. A garden world. It’s… dare I say it?… a paradise.”

  Sally laughed. “So that’s what all the reports about ‘clandestine work’ on Mars was all about?”

  Kath smiled. “That’s right. And we — they — are looking for colonists.”

  “But…” Sally was aware that she was not thinking logically as she asked, “But doesn’t it take years to get there? I mean…”

  “Think about it, Sally. The Serene are from Delta Pavonis. They can travel light years in weeks. The jaunt to Mars takes their ships a few hours, and that’s the slow way.”

  Sally stared at her. “What do you mean, the slow way?”

  Kath shrugged. “They have other technologies, apart from their starships. But I really shouldn’t be talking about that. Anyway, a decision isn’t required immediately, of course. I’ll give you a few days to think about it. When does Geoff get back?”

  Sally shook her head, still dazed. “The day after tomorrow. But… but Geoff, he…” She stopped herself.

  Kath was smiling. “I know what Geoff does, Sally. It’s been cleared with the SAEs who control him.”

  Sally looked around her at the beer garden, the rolling hills beyond. Mars, she thought. It still sounded unrealistic, some kind of practical joke.

  “If… if we did go. Then how often would we be able to return?”

  Kath shrugged. “How about every couple of months?”

  Sally shook her head. “But, I mean… why Mars? Why leave this planet? It’s not overcrowded, is it?”

  “Planet Earth eventually will be. The Serene are looking at things long-term. And by that I don’t just means decades or centuries, but millennia. They see Mars as the first step on the long outward push from Earth, an inevitable start of the human diaspora.”

  “But what will it be like? I imagine red sands, desolate, bleak…”

  “Forget about everything you know, or thought you knew, about the red planet. The Serene have changed all that, as they have a habit of doing. Imagine rolling countryside not dissimilar to Shropshire, vast forests, great oceans… A temperate world that will easily accommodate two billion human beings.”

  “This is… staggering.”

  “I know. Hard to take in at first. That’s how I felt when I was told.”

  Sally looked at her friend. “You’ll be going, too?”

  She nodded. “Eventually, perhaps in a year or two, when my work finishes on the current project. Look, talk it over with Geoff when he gets back, give it some serious thought. I’ll leave you a few e-brochures, for your eyes only. I’ll call in again in a few days, on my way back from Birmingham, and we can all discuss it then.”

  Sally nodded, “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  Kath smiled. “Now, did you say you’re cooking dinner tonight? Mind if I give you a hand?”

  Sally laughed. “I’d love it, and no doubt Hannah will join in too.”

  They left the garden and Kath said that she’d hired a car in London. “I’ll drive you back.”

  “It’s not far, about half a kay on the edge of town overlooking the vale.”

  “Sounds idyllic.”

  “It is,” she said, and thought: too idyllic to leave. But Mars… what an opportunity!

  They walked from the pub garden to the quiet, tree-lined road that led into town. As they walked towards the car, parked a little way along the road, Kath asked, “Why Shropshire?”

  “As ever, there was a job advertised. I grew up just a few miles south of here, so it was like coming home.”

  Kath stepped into the road and moved towards the driver’s door. She looked at Sally over the curving, electric-blue roof, and smiled. “‘That is the land of lost content, I see it shining plain’…”

  “Meaning?”

  “One can never go back, Sally. Only onwards…” She smiled again.

  Sally would recall that smile for a long time to come.

  The truck seemed to appear from nowhere. Sally saw a flash of movement in the corner of her eye as it swept past from the right. She heard a short scream and screamed herself as Kath was dashed away, rolled between her car and the flank of the speeding truck and deposited ten metres further along the road.

  Sally ran to her friend and dropped to her knees, taking Kath’s limp hand to feel for a pulse but knowing what she would find.

  Kath lay on her back, wide open eyes staring at the sky. She seemed physically uninjured, at first inspection; at least there were no wounds, no blood…

  But the oval of her skull was misaligned, her jaw set at an odd angle, and the lack of pulse at her wrist confirmed everything Sally had feared.

  She screamed, then scooped Kath into her arms and rocked back and forth, sobbing.

  She looked down the road for the truck, but it had sped away as fast as it had appeared.

  She fumbled with her phone, rang the emergency services and then just sat at the side of the road, holding Kath’s dead hand. There was no one else about, for which she was thankful. She did not want her grief intruded upon. It would be bad enough when the police and ambulance arrived, without the spurious sympathy of bystanders.

  Memories flashed through her head, images of her time with Kath. They went back so far, had shared so much. It seemed so cruel to the girl and young woman Kath had been that, all along, her arbitrary end had awaited her like this in a future country lane.

  What seemed like only minutes later an ambulance pulled up and two paramedics leapt from the cab and hunkered over Kath’s body. A police car pulled in behind Kath’s rented car and a tall officer climbed out, took Sally firmly by the shoulders and led her away from Kath.

  Stricken, Sally watched the paramedics lift her friend’s body onto a stretcher, cover her face with a blue blanket with a finality she found heart-wrenching, and slide her into the back of the ambulance.

  THE
POLICE OFFICER was young, and seemed even younger in his summer uniform of light blue shirt and navy shorts. He indicated the pub garden and said, “You need a stiff drink, and I’ll take a statement. Did you see the vehicle that…?”

  Sally shook her head. “Just a flash, then it was away.”

  He nodded and moved to the bar. Sally chose a table well away from the fishpond. She slumped, dazed, still not wholly believing what had happened. She thought of the dinner they would have prepared together…

  She gulped the brandy the officer provided, then almost choked as the liquid burned down her throat. She took a deep breath. The young man was speaking, asking her questions. She apologised and asked him to repeat himself.

  She told him Kath’s name, her occupation. No, Kathryn Kemp had no living relatives, no next of kin. The only people to contact would be her employers… and at the thought of this Sally broke down.

  The officer offered to drive her home, but Sally said she lived just around the corner and that the walk would help to clear her head.

  She sat for a while when the officer departed, staring across the lawn at the fishpond.

  She gazed at the bulbous koi, breaking the surface for food. She recalled something Kath had said, when they had met in London not long after the arrival of the Serene. They had strolled to a newly opened gallery, toured the exhibition, and later sat at an outdoor café beside a well-stocked fishpond. They had discussed the changes wrought by the aliens, and Sally had wondered about the changes that would affect the world’s economy.

  Kath had indicated the fish cruising the pond and said, “A crude analogy, Sally. The Earth is a fishpond, with finite resources. The fish would survive for a while without intervention, eating pond life, but eventually their food resources, their economy if you like, would break down. But humans kindly feed them a few crumbs, sustain them…”

  “So you’re comparing the human race to fish?” Sally had laughed.

  “I said the analogy was crude.” Kath shrugged. “The Serene come along, save an ailing world, pump energy into the system. Our economies will collapse, but they were corrupt anyway, and will be replaced by something much better. We were in desperate need of the crumbs the Serene are throwing us.”