The Vandle War

by Reg Franklin

  “Yeah, he's gonna be upset when he wakes up.” Chris couldn't help but chuckle. “Uh...he is going to wake up right?”

  Jennifer nodded, tossing her prisoner down. “He's going to have an absolutely terrible headache, but, yeah, he's fine.” She nudged the captive with her toe. “This guy is going to suffer, though.”

  “Definitely.” Chris agreed, his laughter and mood souring as he glared at the captured Alphite.

  9.

  “State your name for the record please.”

  The Alphite sat, shackled to his chair, glaring sullenly.

  Through a monitor, Kelly Young was chewing a mild painkiller for his headache, murder in his heart for the way he’d been manipulated.

  “Here.” The slight blonde woman had come next to him, offering a cup of coffee. Kelly grunted thanks.

  On the screen, the Alphite remained silent.

  “Very well.” St. George was running the interrogation, claiming it was his right as Admiral. That, and he knew that had Kelly interrogated the man, he more than likely would have attempted to beat the answers out of him. “According to Councilman Young, you were employed under the name Matthew Harolds, so we shall use that for the record.”

  “How long was he working for you?” Jennifer sipped at her own coffee.

  “Two years.” Kelly felt the rage coming on again. “In my offices as a personal secretary for two years and I didn't even suspect.”

  “Actually, you might have. But he could have been influencing even your suspicions.” She pointed out.

  “True.” Kelly cleared his throat. “While I thank you for uncovering his machinations, I still don't trust you.”

  Jennifer barked a short laugh. “That's okay. I don't trust you either.”

  Back on the monitor, Chris was growing exasperated. “Mr. Harolds, or whatever your name actually is, it will go easier on you if you answered the question. How long have you been an agent for the Psi-Omegan Empire?”

  Still nothing but sullen silence.

  “He's trying to influence people on the ship.” Jennifer whispered.

  “What?” Kelly turned to face her.

  “At first he was trying to just affect the Admiral. Then you. I’ve been shielding the both of you.” She explained. “Trying to have either of you order his release.” Jennifer closed her eyes. “He’s trying to break through, but he's also trying to influence the crew to mutiny.” Her face scrunched in concentration. Then she spoke a single word.

  “No.”

  With that, Harolds’ head snapped backwards, blood spraying from his nose. Chris shouted in alarm as the prisoner slipped into unconsciousness. Jennifer opened her eyes again.

  “It’s all right St. George.” She was pressing a comm panel. “He’s just out again. It's too dangerous to have him conscious.”

  “How the hell do we keep them captive if they can do that?” Kelly muttered.

  “You probably can't.” Jennifer agreed. She shot him a sidelong glance. “And I refuse to be a warden keeping them in check, so you can just put that idea out of your head.”

  “And I will thank you to keep out of my mind!” Kelly snapped. “It was a passing thought, but you have no right to be poking around in my brain.”

  Jennifer sighed. “You're absolutely right. I apologize.” She slumped slightly. “You have no idea how hard it is to control sometimes. It almost becomes as automatic as breathing.”

  Kelly glared at her a moment longer then turned away. “Apology accepted.” He glanced at the unconscious spy. “What do we do with him?”

  “That's what I’d like to know!” Chris snapped, storming into the room. “We can't get answers if you keep knocking him out!”

  Jennifer sighed again. “All right. I get it. You get this one for free, but as the Councilman just reminded me, I can't keep doing this. It's unethical.” Her eyes slipped closed.

  “His name...is...Michel Harroldson...he was born following the Battle of the Talon…” Her face scrunched in concentration. “His mission...foster...discontent...keep humanity infighting…”

  “Terrific, nothing we didn't already guess.” Kelly muttered.

  “Scheduled...recall...three months...debriefed by...Oracular Empress?” Jennifer opened her eyes, confusion stamped on her features. “He doesn't answer to Stragdoc. He was secretly assigned by Morsalis. Paul doesn't even know he's here!”

  “Unless she told him since Michel here was embedded?” Chris offered.

  Jennifer shook her head. “No. The impression he got was that this mission was ‘off the books’.” She paced the floor. “She's up to something. Something we can use.”

  “Okay, hang on.” Chris interjected. “All the intelligence we had on Callixta Morsalis said that the woman is obsessively loyal to Stragdoc. She mutilated a man piece by piece, out of devotion to him. And now she's at cross-purposes to him?”

  Jennifer stopped pacing. “Oh.” She laughed sourly. “No. She’s not opposing him exactly. No, I think it's supposed to be a gift to him.”

  Young and St. George looked confused. “Think about it: how much easier would it be for him to fly in and conquer Earth if the military leaders and civilian government are at odds? Particularly if it’s discovered that said military leader,” Here Jennifer’s voice dripped with sarcasm “were found to be communicating with an Alphite ‘agent’.”

  Young felt understanding dawn. “Clever. Think she'll retaliate, now that she's been found out?”

  Jennifer shook her head. “No, Callixta is much more subtle than you think. She's learned that she’s not good at direct action. She wouldn't know what to do with a fleet if you gift-wrapped it with instructions. But she's fantastic at working behind the scenes. She set up the assassination of the American president just before the Battle of the Talon. You remember that, St. George?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, that trick with the rigged weapons shipment. Killed him, a dozen reporters, injured what, twice that many?”

  Jennifer nodded. “At any rate, we have time before she does anything. He's not scheduled to return for three months, remember?”

  “So, what do we do with him?” Chris asked the obvious question.

  Jennifer thought a moment. “Dump him on the planet.”

  “What?”

  “Unless you want him to start influencing your crew to mutiny again?” She let the sarcasm hang in the air as she left the room.

  “Insolent.” Kelly muttered. “St. George. Admiral. I know you were trying to keep him distracted with your lunacy about platypuses,”

  “Actually…” Chris interrupted. “You better meet Dr. West.”

  Within minutes, Councilman Kelly Young was staring in horror at his first alien life form.

  10.

  “Any luck, doctor?” Chris asked.

  “Not exactly, Admiral.” They were standing in the autopsy chamber, sans protective gear. Dr. West had all of the remaining blood drained from the aliens, and had the room sterilized until he could not find a single trace of the caustic fluid. Kelly was looking at one of the carcasses with clear revulsion. The rotting fish and egg smell had mostly dissipated. Mostly.

  “For the record, these things have intensely thick skulls. Burned out two saws cracking this one open.” West gestured at the carcass missing the top of its skull. “All in all, their brains aren't much dissimilar from ours, near as I can tell. Similar structure, cerebellum, medulla, all there, with one major difference.”

  West opened a drawer, releasing a blast of super-cooled air. Donning thick gloves, he reached in and removed a largish organ.

  “Behold, the amygdala.”

  Young and St. George just kind of looked at each other and shrugged, neither of them understanding the excitement about the twisted bit of flesh. Jennifer, on the other hand…

  “That...looks a little on the large side.”

  “Precisely, Ms. Safyo! I didn't know you had a medical background!”

  She shrugged.

  “Okay, so it has a bigger
whatever, what does that mean?” Chris was tired, and his irritation was beginning to show.

  “Admiral, the amygdala is the part of the brain responsible for negative emotions, our capacity for violence. The size of the creatures’ version of this organ indicates that it only feels negative emotions. These things can't do anything but hate. Whatever culture they have cannot possess things like love and joy, just anger and aggression.”

  “So what killed it?” Chris interrupted the increasingly excited scientist.

  “Hm? Oh yes! Sorry! Some kind of aneurysm, I think. The cranial cavity was absolutely full of that horrid blood they have.”

  Chris looked over at Jennifer. “All I did was try to scan its mind, I swear.” She protested.

  “Yeah, but I don't like coincidences.”

  “Um, A-admiral?” Jemma’s voice. “We, um, have a situation up here that uh, you and the, uh, councilman should take a look at about thirty seconds ago.” The normally unflappable adjutant sounded positively terrified.

  “Stay here.” Chris ordered Jennifer as he and Young made for the nearest lift.

  “Yes, sir.” Jennifer quietly muttered under her breath. She wasn't under his command...but then again, she was a guest, and if he needed her talents, he’d notify her. She sighed, it had already been a long day.

  West tapped her shoulder. “Well, as we're away from the action, fancy a game of chess?”

  ---

  Chris exited onto the bridge first and stopped dead at the sight before him. Kelly bumped into his back, cursed briefly until he too saw the main viewer.

  Joining them in orbit was a vast, flattened dome. It's hull was a dull utilitarian grey, aside from large bright patches that on closer inspection appeared to be windows looking outward into the infinite vacuum of space.

  “It's bigger than the Talon…” Chris whispered, amazed. Then he realized that the new friends they had made on the surface might have come from a vessel such as this.

  “Arm weapons, but do not target until we know if they're friendly. First sign of aggression, I want a strafing run right over top of them.” Chris ordered.

  “Are you sure that's wise, Admiral?” Young muttered.

  “Which part?”

  “All of it.” It was painfully obvious to Chris that Young still did not trust him, despite the removal of the Alphite influence.

  “Sir, we’re getting a signal from the ship!” Wilson, the communications officer.

  “What kind of transmission?” Chris hurried to the station.

  “I...I have no idea, sir.” Wilson responded lamely. “It just looks like a bunch of dots.”

  Young made his way over. “That looks like math.” He pronounced. “See, you’ve got a cluster of five dots here, a symbol, two dots, another symbol, then seven dots.”

  Chris nodded. “What are we supposed to do with this? Solve it? If they’ve already answered the questions, what good would that do?”

  Young smirked. “Translate it into our language and send it back, of course. Mathematics are universal constants, and it would provide a glance into our own language. This has to be a way for them to learn how to communicate with other races.”

  With that, Young sat down and began translating the alien algebra. Additionally he included representations of the Fibonacci sequence, the calculation of pi, and several others. When done he nodded at Wilson. “Transmit that back.”

  Wilson looked over at Chris, who nodded affirmatively.

  They did not wait long for a response. “Sir, visual transmission from alien vessel!”

  Chris strode back to the communications console. “Well, let's say hello then.”

  Chris remembered stories of “little green men” or the so-called “greys”, wondering if that what he was going to see.

  Instead, the image was of a spherical head, black-skinned, dark orange eyes, and some sort of hood or cowl that looked like the ace of spades.

  +Humans.+ It spoke with a thick accent. A small slit served as the mouth for the being. +It would be your kind, would it not, with your aggressive curiosity, that would seek out here.+

  “I am Admiral Christopher St. George of the Earth Alliance Defense Force.” Chris dutifully introduced himself, restraining his surprise that this creature knew his species. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”

  The orange eyes blinked. +I am called Tzth-to-Urdo. You may call me Zath if that is easier for you. And we are the Prelt on a mission of caution against a mistake made long ago.+

  ---

  On Numenor, as the Emperor of the Alphites continued to interrogate his captive, five objects careened through the atmosphere into the mountains. Meteor strikes were not uncommon on this world, but monitoring stations logged the impacts dutifully.

  The automated systems did not register the guttural screams of triumph following the impacts, however.

  11.

  Chris stood ramrod straight, uncomfortable in his dress uniform. Young was standing just ahead of him, also now dressed formally in the forward docking bay as the alien shuttle maneuvered its way inside with some difficulty.

  “We’re going to need to make these bays more universally adaptable.” Kelly muttered.

  “What's wrong, councilman, worried about making a bad first impression?” Chris responded, allowing himself a tight smile.

  Young twisted around. “Frankly, yes. These Prelt are the first race we’ve ever encountered, aside from those things you killed on the surface.”

  The ship completed landing, and after a few moments a hatch irised open, with the Prelt who’d identified itself as Zath stepping through followed by two more of the aliens. At least Chris thought it was Zath, the Prelt were virtually identical other than height and eye brightness. Except the third alien, whose skin was a deep crimson.

  “Welcome aboard the John Alex, Mr. Zath, I am Councilman Kelly Young of Earth.” Young bowed formally.

  The aliens glanced at each other. +It is merely Zath. I have no honorific.+

  “My apologies. You’ve already met the Admiral of course.” Kelly gestured vaguely in Chris’s direction. He then briefly introduced the members of his own retinue. A moment of silence passed.

  +You have not introduced us to the individual trying to probe my mind.+ There was a suggestion of a chuckle in the alien’s speech.

  Young whirled on Chris, murder in his eyes, as Jennifer stepped from around some crates. “My apologies Zath, I only wanted to ensure your peaceful intentions.” Jennifer now bowed. “I am Jennifer Safyo. Formerly of Earth.”

  Zath stepped towards her, although glided might have been a more appropriate term. Either way, the aliens’ legs were all hidden by voluminous robes.

  +Formerly? Ah, but you are of the near human race are you not?+

  All of them looked at Zath with shock. “You know about them?” Young hissed.

  +We observe them. No contact has been made until now.+ It gestured towards Jennifer.

  “You still haven't. I have nothing to do with them.” Jennifer snapped.

  +Apologies. You are exiled?+

  “My status with them is not relevant.” Jennifer crossed her arms.

  +Again, I apologize. Forgive my presumptions, I beg.+ Zath pressed three of his fingers on each hand together, and bowed stiffly.

  “Admiral, they bear no ill will. If you don't mind, I was in the middle of a chess match.” Jennifer turned to leave.

  +Please!+ The alien stretched out a chitinous hand. +Do remain in our meeting, I beg!+

  Even through the thick accent, all present could hear the pleading in the alien’s voice. Jennifer turned back towards Zath, curiosity apparent. “Why? Why are you so interested in me? So desperate to have me there?”

  +Permit me to tell the tale, and it will become clear, I am sure.+

  Jennifer studied him for a moment then nodded. “All right, but as long as we all get our questions answered.”

  Zath made the curious three-fingered gesture again. +Believe me, you shall have more
knowledge than you might prefer.+

  ---

  The humans and Alphite escorted the trio of Prelt into a conference room. Waiting there was Dr. West, hoping that they might have a remedy for Pickman. At the aliens’ request, there was a large viewport facing the system’s only star.

  +For this small courtesy, we thank you.+ Zath pronounced.

  “May I ask, your desire for the light, the large windows on your craft, is your species photosynthetic?” West asked, his curiosity up. “Nourishment from light?”