“The crucial factor is that our race here on Earth has developed to the point where alien races think it can join with others across the galaxy. More than that, it has to join with other people across the galaxy if all the preparations to date are not to turn sour and our civilisation fall back into primitive ways. The Gayans have been helping with our technology development since prehistoric times, leaving tokens of wonder along the way that point to all that history. The other factor is that the Earth is in its prime as a home planet and must be conserved for future generations or it could fail and lose its ideal climate for life with disastrous consequences. The Earth’s climate acts as a buffer to the ravages of human expansion but this can only go so far. If the buffering capability is exceeded than the climate will collapse and Earth’s ability to support life, especially high-level life like ours, will be lost.”
“You are talking of climate change and pollution, Charlotte?” the Prime Minister asked.
“Yes, in fact all kinds of sign that the human race in particular is using the Earth’s resources and then distributing its waste without care or understanding that a limit is fast approaching. The technological age means that the effect is accelerating. Our population is growing dramatically and these newly industrialised societies in turn are using more and laying waste to previously natural spaces and the seas. There is no chance this can be reversed at this stage without external help from alien races that understand these processes. There is no political will strong enough on Earth that can stop the increasing population from rushing to destruction in the pursuit of wealth. The Gayans know this and are ready to come to our aid to pass this point of no return.”
“So this is an ideal situation then, Charlotte? These Gayans are our friends and are coming to help us. We have nothing to fear from them?”
“I am afraid it is not quite that simple. As I said there is more than one race of human beings in the galaxy. The Gayans have rivals and these other cultures care little for the health of our planet. They just see an ideal new world that they can annex for their own purposes. The main rival is called race Spargar and they are spread wide to compete with the Gayans. Unfortunately, their home range is much closer to Earth. Spargar are an advanced technology race that believes human societies are as hierarchical as an ants’ nest and computer technology is the tool that exerts total control over a rigid human society. In short, race Spargar believes planet Earth is in its home range and is making plans for incorporation to the Spargar Empire before Earth can align itself to Gayan philosophy. It is race Spargar that is behind the perception of bug-eyed aliens and UFO abduction stories here on Earth. This is because their agents appear here in protective suits and helmets that have this appearance, which we describe as ‘zeta greys’ in our UFO encounter stories.”
The Prime Minister looked to David as the conversation turned towards images of conflicts way beyond her experience. “So are you saying there is going to be war here on Earth between these two alien races?” David asked.
“I am saying there is already a covert war going on. I witnessed a battle only recently in Thetford Forest between the two. Gayan agents won that conflict, which has given them a brief respite, but the advantage will not remain for long. We can expect Gaya to act soon now as the political situation on Earth is critical and race Spargar will react to their recent failure. At that point, what has been an undercover rivalry will become overt and we will need to handle this as best we can.”
David turned to the Prime Minister. “I can confirm that we had another incident recently in Thetford Forest near our military bases there, Prime Minister,” he said. “There have been many reported UFO encounters in that area since the USA installed nuclear bases in the cold war, but this latest one was seen and reported by locals who have become accustomed to these kinds of events. We have examined the site and there is no doubt that some encounter took place over an area of some 200 metres or so of open ground.”
Charlotte was unsurprised that David Harrier had stepped in with detailed knowledge of their recent encounter and its military significance. The Prime Minister was visibly casting around to find any comfortable common ground on this topic of monumental proportions that she had absolutely never considered previously. On the other hand this subject matter was clearly at David Harrier’s fingertips in great detail and he was in command of his clear speciality.
Charlotte said, “I witnessed this encounter personally, David, as I was trapped with others in our group under a Spargar craft that flew overhead and then offloaded a large number of agents that looked just like alien greys. They surrounded us with handheld weapons and what looked like medical equipment as if we were to be abducted, but then four Gayan craft materialised and a superior force of Gayans dealt with the Spargar agents, captured them and took them away in their spacecraft. I reported this all back to Professor Kitteridge and he made the decision that it was time to make contact with you to make preparations for whatever comes next.”
The Prime Minister was conflicted but impressed with the earnest honesty of the Professor and student before her. Charlotte was seemingly youthful but utterly convincing, almost alarmingly so in one so young. But the Prime Minister trusted her senses that clearly a lot was left out of this story, which was clearly just a summary of recent events, but also that she was receiving an edited version somehow for her consumption. This kind of political chicanery was something at least that she had a great deal of experience with.“Professor Kitteridge, I am convinced that you are clear on these events. The question for us of course is whether you can provide proof of all that you say?”
“There have been many personal encounters throughout history, Prime Minister, where individuals have received the proof you ask for. Collectively, though, society has ridiculed these proofs as the public majority needs to see this proof themselves to believe something so massively different from what they are used to. How does the wandering ant who discovers a river go back and explain the concept of something so immense to the rest of the colony? This is the same issue we have when the general public become aware of what we are discussing. There is an urgency to our situation now, though. As I understand it from the Gayan messengers, a developing planet like our own is defended by galactic laws until such time it is deemed to have ‘grown up’ and taken its place in the inhabited worlds of men.”
“Like our own laws that protect children until the age of sixteen, you mean?”asked the Prime Minister.
“Yes, much like that, except that the age of maturity of a whole human race on a developing world is open to interpretation, if you like. Suffice to say that our recent advances in space exploration and computer technology place us at risk of being seen as mature enough to be approached by alien forces. Because of this, the proof of alien life could be imminent and openly visible to the whole of humanity here on Earth when they actually visit us. We are able to provide the level of proof you are asking for from our Gayan contacts as a follow-up to this meeting. Maybe David would like to meet with his opposite numbers in Gayan logistics management so they can work together?”
David Harrier sat back a little and raised his eyebrows at that comment. This mannerism was a major telltale of brimming emotion in a man of his lifelong discipline. He nodded slowly and looked to the Prime Minister to answer.
“Your confidence is impressively persuasive that you believe these aliens to be real and a present danger, Professor. I have to confess this is all rather alarming as part of me would rather it goes away and not raise the fears that will emerge if all this is true. There is clearly much for us to take onboard straight away. From our side, David Harrier will be the contact point for me and he will assume my authority to carry out any actions required. He has access across our government resources and can liaise with our allies if necessary. He will report to me continually but you will appreciate I cannot handle the day-to-day myself without the country soon asking what on earth is going on.” The Prime
Minister stopped and smiled at the unintended pun – maybe she really meant, what on the galaxy was going on? She continued, “We cannot make this a public issue until such time we understand exactly what is actually happening and when.”
Professor Kitteridge smiled his assent. He was pleased he had not been required to go into all the reasons why public disclosure was problematic, though he knew the whole subject had been hidden from the public by men like this one who had accompanied the Prime Minister. He smiled also in amusement that this particular civil servant opposite could no longer hide alien life behind ridicule and secrecy notices; the lid was being blown off the whole story whether he liked it or not. “I am in complete agreement, Prime Minister. I suggest David remains here in Cambridge for the next short period after you return so that we can brief him on the next level of the detail. Hopefully we can soon provide a plan for events as we expect them to play out.”
The Prime Minister conferred with Brigadier Harrier and he agreed to return straight away to Cambridge after their visit. Professor Kitteridge offered to source a guest room at St John’s College for David Harrier’s use so that he could be close to the whole cosmology group that would be at the forefront of the next stage of events. The Prime Minister left the meeting looking seriously worried but she felt in her heart that she was on the right path; the few people closely involved were quality people and could be trusted. But what the hell would happen when this all became public knowledge? It made the everyday tussle of national politics shrink to insignificance by comparison.
*
David Harrier had returned early in the evening to his apartment in Westminster after driving back from Cambridge to Westminster with the Prime Minister in her official car. A combination of driving against the London rush-hour traffic and occasional use of the discreet blue flashing lights of the Prime Minister’s motorcade conspired to get them back to Westminster in a remarkable hour and a half. David’s official position carried with it a small but comfortable apartment for his use when he stayed in London. It was situated in a low-rise mansion block a short walk past Westminster Cathedral, behind the Windsor Castle public house. He reflected on the conversation with the Prime Minister as they had returned down the M11 motorway from Cambridge. She saw this situation as the most important yet perplexing any premier could face in office, but she could allocate little time without arousing suspicions. Her existing workload consumed all the time available. This meant that David would need to assume responsibility entirely to verifying Professor Kitteridge’s story of the rival alien invaders and generating action plans to handle developments. His mind was full of potential outcomes spinning off each other helter-skelter in a wild flurry of possibilities unconstrained by the limitations of normal experience. It was a reassuring comfort to microwave a ready meal from his freezer and flip the top off a bottle of cold beer as his mind ranged over the day’s events. If the worst came to the worst would he be able to buy a microwave meal and a bottle of beer ever again? The population would be terrified if they knew just how short the supply chain of food to the supermarkets really was.
David replayed the meeting again in his mind as he ate his supper. Professor Kitteridge had managed the meeting entirely convincingly. He was well known on the media for his televised documentaries as the commentator who brought space science to the masses. The complete and utter wild card was the young woman Charlotte who was simultaneously guileless as an undergraduate and insightful as a prophetess. David was certain that she held the key to confirming the alien story by producing some kind of proof. They did seem to believe they could arrange direct contact with their claimed alien friends. How unbelievably exciting that would be, even if fraught with personal risk. He had played out all these contingencies with the widespread staff associated with the Logistics Liaison department and every indicator pointed to the first new person involved with the approach being the critical alien contact. It was just difficult to see how this clearly human undergraduate girl from the north of England could be an actual alien. Maybe she was just an innocent that had met the real aliens by luck or coincidence. David mused that he did not believe much in either luck or coincidence, but then the lottery spun off winners no matter how unlikely the odds.
David packed a small case with civvies for the trip back to Cambridge by train the following morning and turned in to get an early night. He checked the news on television just to assure himself that no word had reached the media of the real reason for the Prime Minister’s visit to Cambridge that day. The Prime Minister featured heavily but it was all about the Brexit negotiations with the European Union rather than any extraterrestrial fears. The rest was the usual ragbag of scandal and crime that comprised the editor’s view of popular news. He knew he should be grateful that the media turned a blind eye entirely to his line of work. He felt relaxed enough but as he lay in bed, sleep would not come. This was rare for David as normally he put in long hours during the day and consequently slept well. Today’s events were so different though that his mind would not calm sufficiently for sleep to come no matter how many times he had planned for these circumstances previously. Just when he thought sleep would evade him completely and he would have to go to the rail station unrested in the morning, he jolted upright as if he had dozed off after all. His first thought was frustration that he had woken when he needed to continue his rest, then he noticed a bulky figure sitting in his bedroom chair by the window in the murky brown gloom of the middle of the night that filtered through his curtains.
“Brigadier Harrier, please not to be alarmed by my appearance in your home,” a voice rumbled in Mediterranean-accented English.
David Harrier was surprised by a sudden incongruous thought of Luca Brasi speaking to the Godfather at Connie’s wedding prompted by the bulky shape and the rumbling voice. This was followed by the mildly surprising thought that this did not feel like a threatening encounter despite the crazy circumstances and the hulking presence in his bedroom. He reached across and clicked on the bedside lamp, flooding the room with mellow light. The figure in the chair was wearing dark casual clothes and had a large oval bald dome of a head. He had a deep tan and was wearing designer sunglasses despite so recently sitting in near total darkness. The abrupt change in the lighting seemed to leave the visitor unaffected by the adjustment and any possible exposure to risk from waking a military man. He was after all a single intruder in a military apartment surrounded by many others in the heart of the capital city of his target.
Many thoughts occurred to David Harrier as he became totally awake, yet he could only say, somewhat inadequately to his mind, “Who are you?”
“As I say, no alarm is required, Brigadier Harrier. I am the friend of the lady Charlotte you met today. She tells me that proof of Gayan capabilities are required by you so we can quickly move on?”
“Yes, well, I was not expecting things to happen quite so fast. And not somebody to arrive unexpected in my home in the middle of the night,” David said tetchily.
Lady Charlotte, thought David, noting the nature of the relationship between this soldier and the girl he had met earlier in this remarkable day. “We do find things much quieter with humans in the middle of the night on planet Earth,” the stranger replied. “They called me Umberto Pantucci, a Cavallo of Dawn, originally of planet Gaya, mother world of the Gayan Empire. I have looked forward to our meeting for some time. You could say that we Cavallos of Dawn are the Gayan equivalent of your ‘Logistical Liaisons Department’, no?” Umberto smiled with wide full lips, wrinkles creasing around the broad arms of his sunglasses. It was comically affecting and David Harrier was disarmed.
“Well, what is the plan, Umberto Pantucci, Cavallo of Dawn? How will you prove Professor Kitteridge’s story to be true?”
“You have a saying, ‘A thousand words is not a single picture’ so we will show to you and not do a lot of tricky talk. Shall we go?”
“I guess so,” David replied, his tensi
on building at the promise of momentous imminent action. He got out of bed in his shorts and retrieved casual wear from his closet. Umberto sat and watched. “You could wait in the lounge,” David indicated through the bedroom door.
“I am OK here if you want to talk, or ask questions,” Umberto offered, clearly insensitive to the mildly menacing nature of his presence as David dressed. “I am comfortable here, thank you.”
David thought about explaining why he would be more comfortable with Umberto in a different room then decided it was hardly worth the effort. He could see his visitor was completely unaffected by the niceties of the situation. They were both military men by background; dressing was not necessarily a private privilege.
David walked through to the small kitchen area for a drink of water. He offered the same to Umberto but he did not want anything. The two men left the apartment down the bare stairs to ground level and stood out on the deserted street.
“Where to now?” David asked.
Umberto waved in the direction of the Windsor Castle pub on the corner and said, “We go to the park across from your place of work.” They set off along the deserted but well-lit back roads of Westminster towards the barracks and St James’s Park beyond. The empty streets of St James’s were ghostly in the puddled street lights as they strode the familiar route across Victoria Street towards Buckingham Palace by side streets. It seemed entirely appropriate that even London now had a second, alternate alien character to itself in the quiet dead of night.
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