“You know DAMN WELL I remember! She was my WIFE!” yelled Steropes.
“My point exactly,” said Brontes.
“Mechs? What mechs?” asked Ryan, unaware of the conversation going on around him. “Like in the movies?”
“We used to have heavy mechanized combat armor suits,” replied Steropes. “Unfortunately, we don’t have any here, nor do we have access to them.”
“We do, however, have one more piece of equipment for you,” said Arges, holding out what looked like a child’s toy rifle. While shaped like a rifle, it appeared to be molded out of cheap plastic. “In olden days, this was known as ‘Zeus’ Thunderbolt.’”
Top took Zeus’ Thunderbolt. Although it weighed about ten pounds, up close it looked even more like it was made of cheap plastic. Obviously not made for humans, it also wasn’t very well balanced in his hands. He was unimpressed. “I saw something that looked just like this at the toy store yesterday. It was $19.95 and called the Space Ranger Special,” said Top. “I got two for my kids.”
“May I?” asked Steropes, holding out a hand.
“Be my guest,” replied Top, handing the plastic rifle to him.
Steropes flipped a switch on the rifle, and it made a noise that sounded like something electronic powering up. He pointed it up at the roof and pulled the trigger. With a low-pitched, ‘pang!’ the weapon fired, and a beam of blue light went through the ceiling. Looking up, Calvin could see that not only did the ceiling have a hole in it, the roof did, too.
Top looked up at the blue sky. “That isn’t something my kids’ rifles can do, however.” He said with a new tone of respect. “I think I like this one better. What is it?”
“It’s a three centimeter blue laser,” Steropes said.
“Nice,” replied Top. “That’ll put a hole just bigger than an inch into something, right?”
“Correct,” agreed Arges.
“Those are all great,” said Calvin, “but what else do you have for us? That’s not everything, is it?”
“Yes,” said Arges, “those are the weapons that we have. They should give you a marked improvement in combat capability.”
“Ok,” repeated Calvin, “so what else do you have for us?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Steropes. “These weapons give you a tremendous improvement in firepower and defensive abilities. What were you expecting?”
“I was expecting a technological leap forward in communications, among other things,” replied Calvin. “When are we going to receive that?”
“He knows!” said Brontes.
“It was to be expected,” replied Arges. “He always knows.”
“You expected him to know?” asked Brontes.
“He wouldn’t be the person I believe him to be if he didn’t,” answered Arges.
“Damn it! That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” shouted Calvin. Everyone else looked confused by his outburst. “You’re talking right now; either telepathically or through some internal radio system, and I’ve had it with you not telling us everything. If you’re not going to be open with us, I’m leaving. Right. NOW!” Calvin started toward the door.
“Oh, save the drama,” said Steropes. “You’re no more going to walk away from flying space fighters than I am going to kiss a Drakul.” He looked at Arges, who nodded. “We will tell you everything.”
“About fucking time,” muttered Ryan, capturing the mood of the Terrans.
“The problem is,” began Steropes, “you don’t have a planetary government. Our culture has strict rules on technology transfer to developing planets. We can’t allow our weapons to be used for one nation to get an advantage over any of the others. If we armed all of your soldiers with our weapons, the United States could quickly take over the world.”
Ryan was incredulous. “Why the hell would we want to do that?” he asked. “Trying to govern some of the hell holes I’ve been in would suck beyond belief.”
“No shit,” agreed Calvin.
“Regardless,” continued Steropes, “you don’t have a planetary government, and that is the rule. There have been times in the past when exceptions have been made to these rules, but we are handicapped in our decision-making capabilities, and our process is flawed.”
“What do you mean,” asked Calvin.
“There should be four of us,” answered Brontes. “There are always four sent on a mission such as this, but we are only three. Normally, we come to an agreement through discussion. At least three must agree to a course of action, so that two more-warlike people cannot outvote two less-warlike ones. Without our fourth, we are handicapped and cannot determine the best way forward.”
“There has been much debate,” continued Steropes, “on how much to give you and what things to withhold. We are still not in agreement. A balance must be struck between the success of our mission and the transfer of knowledge to your planet. It is only what is right. What we are giving you today is the same as has been given to your people before. As such, it should be permissible.” He looked intently at Arges.
“All right,” said Calvin, “you have more stuff, but you’re not sure if it is right to give it to us. Is that right?” All three of the Psiclopes nodded in agreement. “How about if we take a look at what the mission entails and try to help you with your decision on what things are appropriate and necessary.”
The three Psiclopes looked at each other before nodding simultaneously. “We are willing to proceed with your proposal; however, we retain the right to terminate the discussion if we determine it is appropriate,” said Arges.
“For the purpose of this discussion,” said Calvin, “I’ll act as moderator. Night, you have as much experience with special operations as anyone else. What things do we still need to know in order to complete the mission successfully?”
The XO looked thoughtful for a few seconds. “Tell me more about what we can expect from the Drakuls,” he finally asked.
“They are awful,” said Brontes. “They are everything that we have told you before. What we’ve never truly been able to convey to you is just how terrifying they are. In combat they will use beam and projectile weapons during an attack, but only until they can get up close. Once they are within reach, they disdain weapons and grapple with their enemies. They like nothing more than to pull their enemies apart and snack on parts of them while they beat the next enemy senseless with an arm or leg from a previous foe. Words cannot describe, and you cannot conceive of how utterly awful they are in a fight.” She shuddered and turned away. “I have seen them in combat once. I would rather die than see it again.” She turned around, and the soldiers could see tears streaming down her face.
“Their weapons are marginally less effective than what we have given you,” said Steropes, taking up the brief. “In general, their technology is less effective than ours, and they don’t use it as well.”
“How up to date are those generalizations?” asked Night.
“Umm, they are three thousand years out of date,” replied Steropes. “That was the last time we fought them. We thought that their civilization was destroyed at that time, although events have shown that they probably were not. We have no idea what technology they might have acquired in the interim.”
“So, really, everything we know about them is hopelessly out of date, and we don’t have any way of acquiring any current, relevant information?” asked Night.
“That is correct,” replied Steropes.
The XO pursed his lips and blew out a breath. “OK, so we have an enemy that we can’t get close to that is incredibly vicious.” The Psiclopes nodded. “What do we know about their operational patterns?”
“The Drakuls locate communications relays and use them to find inhabited planets,” said Brontes. “They mass their ships and land on the planet. Then they eat almost everyone. Some they save as livestock. Then they use the communications relays to try to find the next planet, and then they do it all over again.” She was crying hard now.
&
nbsp; “We have never seen them use stealth or trickery,” said Steropes. “They reproduce quickly and have always used brute force and massed attacks to overwhelm their enemies. They must have some sort of scientists or engineers, because they will disassemble captured weapons and technology, but we have never seen them create anything new on their own. Once again, though, this may have changed.”
“What can you tell us about their weapons?” asked Night. “Do they have ships and fighters and such?”
“Sadly, they have nearly everything that we have to give you,” said Steropes, “from weapons to transport capabilities. They captured enough of our planets before their final defeat that they acquired almost everything that we had.”
“Nearly everything is not the same as everything,” noted Night. “What do you have that they don’t?”
“That is the topic of this discussion,” announced Arges. “We are attempting to ascertain whether it is essential to transmit that data to you.”
Calvin saw that Ryan looked confused again, but Night pressed on. “So, what we have here is an enemy that is brutal and horrific, that will pull us apart and eat us alive. This enemy will probably strike without warning using a massed attack that will overwhelm all of our defenses and isn’t afraid of taking casualties, because it reproduces quickly. To top it off, we don’t have any current data on this enemy’s whereabouts, technology, or intentions that isn’t at least 3,000 years old. Does that about sum it up?”
“Succinctly,” replied Arges.
“So,” interjected Calvin, “we have an enemy that we know nothing about, that was nearly unbeatable 3,000 years ago, and who may have increased its potential a hundred-fold. When last seen, they had almost the same technology that we have just been given, which we have no training on and no doctrine to operationally employ. Knowing that, it is likely that we will die, or be eaten, probably both, and your mission to make it home will fail. If that is all right with you, then by all means, don’t tell us anything that you know that could help us. After all, we might use it to take over the world and violate your precious rule.”
He paused. “Of course, we aren’t going to use this new information, whatever it is, to take over the world because we’ll be dead, and you’ll be dead with us, and then very shortly after that the Drakuls will land on the planet, and all seven billion people here will be dead. Men, women and children. All dead! But at least you won’t have violated your prized directive. By a show of hands, how many people think this entire fucking discussion is absolutely ludicrous?”
All of the soldiers raised their hands, as well as Brontes. Within a second or two, Steropes slowly raised his hand. Finally, Arges said, “That is not entirely a rational argument, as it relies on an emotional approach to gain acquiescence. Still, several of the points that your executive officer raised are technically valid and require that I restructure my rationale. We will give you everything.”
“It’s about fucking time,” chorused the Americans.
“There’s just one problem,” said Arges.
“Beside the hole in the ceiling?” asked Top.
* * * * *
Chapter Five
Deep Underground Command Center, Washington, DC, November 6, 2018
“They need what?” asked the president.
“The Psiclopes need a bunch of rare earth elements and heavy metals,” answered Calvin, looking around the conference table. Although he had spoken to a number of important people on the phone, both during the war and in the last few weeks, this was the first time he had seen them all in person. It was also his first time in the DUCC, which was a little intimidating all on its own. He didn’t know how far below the White House he was, but the elevator ride had gone on a long time. “If they get them, they will be able to give us implants, which will make our mission much more survivable, especially for the ground force and space force elements.”
“What will the implants do?” asked the Secretary of Technology, Dr. Sarah Roberts. Her office had recently been created by President Jacobs to expedite the transfer of alien technology to the civilian infrastructure. Not much had been transferred so far, which had given Ms. Roberts plenty of time to get her legs under her. Although the office was new at the national level, she had previously served as Virginia’s Secretary of Technology, so she already had a head start on implementing the new position.
“The implants are supposed to do a number of things for us,” replied Calvin. “They will give us direct line of sight radio communications, as well as communications through the computer onboard their ship. At some point in the future, once we have them, we may also be able to use their matter transmitter, which will let us transport at will.”
“They have a transporter?” asked the Secretary of Energy, Jim Banks. “As in like, ‘beam me up, Scottie?”
“Yeah,” answered Calvin, “that’s how they’re able to get around so fast. They transport up to the ship and then back down to wherever they want to go. Apparently, it works with about a 99.9995% accuracy if the place they are beaming into has been surveyed and is an official portal. If it’s not, there is only a 96.9% accuracy.”
“What exactly does that mean?” asked the Secretary of Technology, who could immediately see a number of uses for a transporter, although the transportation industry would scream. “What happens if it falls outside that accuracy level?”
“As I understand it,” answered Calvin, “if something goes wrong, you might end up too high and fall, or too low and have your body intermingled with the ground. That is apparently fatal as well as extremely painful. You also might miss laterally, which is OK as long as nothing exists in the area you’re transporting to. If it does, it will be joined into your body. Once again, very painful and possibly fatal, depending on the nature and size of the object.” He paused. “That’s as I understand it now, anyway. Once I get the implants, I’ll understand it better.”
“What do you mean?” asked the president.
“Another benefit of the implants is that they can teach you things, very quickly, via a data download straight to your brain. That is how we will learn to fly their space fighters, as well as operate their weapons and ship. All of the personnel going on the mission will need to have implants. Apparently, they were going to spring this on us at the last moment, so that word of implant technology wouldn’t get out before we left.”
Calvin looked at the president who appeared to be deep in thought. “We are going to need to have a lot of people implanted, as soon as possible,” mused the president.
“They won’t do it,” replied Calvin. “It’s against their civilization’s rules to transfer weapons or implant technology to a planet that doesn’t have a unified government. If they do, their fear is that the technology would be used to take over the world. Once we have a unified government, they will transfer everything we need, but until then, it is reserved solely for the people going on the mission.”
“That’s ludicrous!” exploded the president. “We have aliens that may show up any day, and they won’t help us? What the hell is wrong with them?”
“Apparently, they have some deep-seated issues with changing a culture’s future,” replied Calvin. “I get the feeling that these issues are philosophical as well as political in nature.”
“What philosophical issues are there with allowing us to defend ourselves?” asked the Secretary of Defense.
“I don’t know exactly,” responded Calvin. “There’s something in their religion about everyone having to ‘find their own path,’ but the Psiclopes wouldn’t explain it to me any more than that. They said that I would understand, ‘in time.’ We were able to convince them to give us the implants, because it was critical to mission success, but they were not at all flexible with regard to any additional technology transfer, without having a unified world government.”
“Damn it,” said President Jacobs, “that is going to throw a wrench into my diplomatic plans. Did they give you any idea of what a ‘unified planetary gov
ernment’ looked like?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” replied Calvin. “No, they did not.”
“OK,” said the president, thinking quickly. “After this meeting, I would like the Speaker of the House, president pro tempore of the Senate, the Attorney General and the Secretaries of State, Treasury, Defense, Commerce, Transportation, Energy, Education and Homeland Security to stay. We need to start moving up the diplomatic push.” He paused and then looked at Calvin. “What do you need to make these implants happen?”
“The Psiclopes are going to need a variety of rare earth elements (REEs) to make the implants, and they will need them as soon as possible. I have a list with me. Most are in small amounts, except for some of the things needed for our laser rifles. We’ll need more of those.
“I take it from their name that these are elements that are rare in nature,” said the president. “Where are they produced?”
“Umm, that’s the problem, sir,” replied Calvin. “They are all produced in China, mostly. I looked on the internet prior to coming here, and China is responsible for about 90% of the world’s rare earth element production, with most of it coming from Inner Mongolia. It is also the sole source for all of the heavy REEs, like dysprosium, which is needed for the magnetic containment fields of our antimatter grenade throwers. China has been cutting back production every year for the last decade, and demand for most of these is now greater than production. The Chinese say their cutbacks are because of environmental protection concerns; however, it is really due to the fact that they are extremely rare resources, and the Chinese don’t want them leaving their borders without making a substantial profit on them.”
“How rare are we talking?” asked the president.
“To say that they are rare is an understatement,” answered the Secretary of Commerce, Nick David, looking down at his notes. He had been told to research rare earth element acquisition prior to the meeting. This was the first meeting that they were allowed to bring or take notes, although they all had to be labeled ‘Olympos’ and treated as if the fate of the nation depended that they remain secret. “For example, it is estimated that there is not much more than a pound of promethium in the entire Earth’s crust, although it is unlikely that they use much of that particular element, as all of its isotopes are radioactive.”
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