by Geoff Wolak
A dozen conversations broke out at once as I faced Jimmy. ‘Aliens?’ I loudly queried.
After Jimmy had called order, he said, ‘That’s not the most interesting facet of the discovery. They appear very much like us, they dress like us, and that world is post-apocalyptic.’
The various delegates exchanged looks. I said, ‘They landed on that world after a war?’
‘Landed, or came by portal,’ Jimmy said. ‘But they don’t seem to possess advanced technology.’
‘So how the hell did they land a fucking spaceship when they haven’t even mastered television?’ I argued.
‘That … is what we’re going to find out,’ Jimmy said with a grin. ‘And, since they’re the first alien life form we’ve encountered, this will be an important first step, an important first contact. There’ll be a period of consultation between the various governments of the combined worlds, and a team will be assembled. Since this news will leak very quickly, I’ll make a statement today.
‘In the meantime, we’ll close-off that frequency and study the material that we have before proceeding. Every scientific group will get a chance to study the material, their language in particular. Then … then we’ll open a portal and grab one of their citizens for a close study, followed by our stealth drones making detailed observations. No final decision will be made on formal contact till we know what we’re dealing with, and any contagion risks.’
‘If they’re living on a post-apocalyptic world, then they must be of a compatible genetic make-up,’ a man said. ‘Or our earth bacteria would have affected them.’
‘Yes, but will their bacteria affect us?’ Jimmy posed. ‘There are no humans left alive over there.’
‘No humans?’ I loudly queried.
‘Not seen on the broadcasts,’ Jimmy explained. ‘So maybe the humans died out or … maybe those who survived the war were killed by the aliens. It does seem, however, that the aliens are living in the former homes and cities of the previous human population.’
‘Bloody hell,’ I let out. ‘Public could be concerned about that.’
‘We don’t know what happened there,’ Jimmy insisted, his hands raised. ‘So … for now we’ll investigate. As for the threat level, these aliens have 1940s technology for the most part, cars from that era.’ He faced a man. ‘OK, slide number one please.’
The lights were dimmed, and a wall came to life. Staring back at me was a man with huge black eyes, vertically oval shaped, no hair, but a crown of what looked like bone, a human nose, but an oddly shaped round mouth with hundreds of small sharp teeth.
‘They look like fish,’ I commented, others agreeing with me. ‘Man-fish.’
Jimmy gave me a look. ‘Let’s not give them stupid names, huh. Let the scientists categorise them.’
‘We should call that world Atlantis,’ I suggested, a few agreeing with me.
Jimmy shook his head. ‘Play video.’
The man-fish came to life. ‘Quack to,’ he greeted his audience, shuffling papers in front of himself.
‘I guess that’s good evening,’ I suggested as the man-fish read out the news, the rough graphical image used, a photo of what looked like a train wreck displayed. ‘Is that a male or a female?’
‘If it’s a female, then man-fish won’t work,’ Jimmy pointed out.
‘It would, sir,’ a scientist said. ‘Since man is the genus, not a sex.’
Jimmy stared at the man. ‘Man-fish … is what a moron might call them. How about … homo-pisces?’ A few people wrote down the name.
We chatted for half an hour, the main discussion points being just how we should proceed, step by step, so that mistakes would not be made. But the real reasons was so that no government, from any world, would bitch and moan about it. There would be a combined scientific group, and that was that.
Jimmy then stopped the traffic by calling for all media outlets to broadcast his speech at the same time. He had them worried.
‘Citizens of Earth, near and far. We have recently opened a portal to a world that had suffered a nuclear war. On that world … there does not seem to be anyone left alive, but that world is now inhabited by aliens.’ Everyone on the planet blinked. ‘These aliens look similar to us: two eyes, two arms and two legs. They walk upright as we do, and they have taken over the houses and machinery of the world that they now live on. They are not a threat, and their technology is that of the 1940s. They have no advanced technology, and we have no idea how they got to that world.
‘We shall be putting together a working group of the best biologists and scientists from each world, and till that group is assembled … any portal opening to the alien world will be banned. When we have a clear strategy we shall enact a plan. This is an exciting time, because this is the first time that we have encountered another species. But with this particular species we have the technological advantage, and we could offer them help and support – assuming that they wish our help and support. Please don’t be worried by this discovery, see it as a great scientific opportunity. Thank you for your time.’
After the group had started to disperse, Jimmy took me to one side. ‘It was Dr Singh the original that discovered that world, and he kept a few details for my ears only.’
‘Such as?’ I nudged, checking over my shoulder.
‘America and Canada are occupied, nowhere else, and just the colder central regions. But the aliens are split into three or more factions, and have fought a few wars. Right now they stand on the edge of a large-scale war, circa 1940s technology, aircraft like Spitfires.’
‘Bloody hell,’ I let out. ‘Should we … use drones to stop them?’
‘First, we need to know just where the hell they came from, then … maybe, we’ll think about interfering. They have 1940s technology, but Dr Singh believes that world to have been at a date of 2040 at least when we sampled it.’
‘2040?’
‘He took astro-measurements, and he’s trying to pin it down.’
‘What age are the buildings?’ I queried.
‘They appear to be from the 1940s or 1950s, but many are earlier. There are no skyscrapers of note in the broadcasts. There are damaged buildings shown in each broadcast, some from recent fighting; they have artillery and basic tanks.’
‘Our presence could spark a war,’ I glumly noted.
‘Sounds familiar,’ Jimmy quipped. ‘At least this lot don’t have nukes.’
‘How is our old buddy, Kennedy, on 1984-world?’ I asked.
‘Still running my foundation in the States, but thinking of The Senate.’
‘He’ll live a long time,’ I noted. ‘So why not.’
I journeyed with Jimmy to Astor Mansions, the plumbing and heating much better these days. We enjoyed a lengthy meal around a huge table, Jimmy’s daughters dining with us, as well as two grandchildren. Both daughters had elected for medical careers, and had followed their mother – who studied current medical theories.
Christopher and Peter, time travellers to be, had elected to join the British military as officers after university, and were now based in Africa for a year’s posting, being tortured by large Rifles sergeants no doubt. Few on this world knew of their destiny, and it was a closely guarded secret.
But that evening there was much talk of baby Selemba, and her own little paradox, many suggestions floated about what the future may hold for her – and what the significance of the necklace was. After all, they could have sent a vial to inject her with. That facet worried me, since it was a trick, a definite trick to get the baby injected. But why, if the injection was a benefit, would we have objected to it? Why was subterfuge needed? It was something that would cause me a few sleepless nights.
The next day I flew back to Africa in a bulbous airliner, First Class, finding Timkins of all people flying down to New Kinshasa.
‘Hello stranger,’ I quipped.
‘It’s only been three months since you saw me last,’ he responded. ‘How’s … the baby?’
I made a
face. ‘So far, OK. She swims like Shelly, in fact better. Other than that … no signs of any problems.’
‘If they meant to harm her, they could have dropped a grenade.’
Oddly enough, I was oddly relieved by the sense of that argument. ‘I suppose. What you up to in my city?’
‘Pollution conference,’ he carefully mouthed.
‘Ah.’
I knew we had been getting some heat for our CO2 levels of late, Europe calling for Africa to slow down, and Africa telling Europe where to shove it. We had not seeded the oceans yet with the clever algae, but we knew we could – and that we would some day soon.
Changing the subject, I said, ‘How’s American … industrial expansion?’
Timkins failed to hide the grin. ‘Chairman Han sat down with the President last week, and told him what tariffs would be allowed.’
I shook my head. ‘Han has gone from communist, to capitalist, to an … interfering so and so very quickly. I’ll go over and have a word.’
‘Jimmy has given Korea the green light to join the Greater Chinese Union.’
I nodded and sighed. ‘It’s ahead of time by a decade or so.’
‘And the Indo-Chinese Federation is just about to sign them up. That’s Burma, Laos, Vietnam and Thailand in the Chinese Federation.’
I nodded again. ‘And Russia?’
‘Wants back some of the water it diverted to China,’ Timkins said with a smile.
‘They moved the river courses, and they’ll have a hell of job to move them back towards Siberia!’
‘New pipelines and electricity cables are to be run across Mongolia,’ Timkins mentioned.
‘Some revenue for Mongolia,’ I said, making a face. ‘They need it. Neither China nor Russia want Mongolia in their federations.’
We landed as the city’s stock-brokers were finishing work, 4.30pm, the young men in pink shirts heading for Shelly’s Marina no doubt – and a few cold beers. At the house, I kissed Susan and hugged Helen, being careful to remember that sequence, and we settled down to a meal – all the talk of aliens, the baby now asleep.
‘You must not repeat this,’ I began, ‘but the man-fish aliens on that world have fought a few wars amongst themselves, and stand ready for a major war.’
‘At that particular time juncture,’ Susan pointed out. ‘So, what’ll Jimmy do?’
‘He’ll make it look like everyone is getting their input, then interfere his way,’ I said.
‘He’ll stop the fighting?’ Helen queried.
I nodded. ‘But first there’s the big question … of just where the hell they came from, since they don’t have any technology apart from that they found lying around, left by 1960s man after a nuclear war.’
‘Could they be a genetic aberration caused by radiation?’ Helen asked.
‘No,’ Susan adamantly stated. ‘We’ve done studies on six worlds, and no creatures were affected by residual radiation, nor were human offspring mutated – other than the obvious. And those kids died.’
‘The odd thing … is the lack of people,’ I reported. ‘And the aliens are limited to the northern states of America, and Canada. Nowhere else.’
‘They’ve not populated that world?’ Susan queried.
I shook my head. ‘No. And Jimmy says they’ve been there for seventy years.’
‘Time enough to build ships and sail an ocean,’ Helen noted.
‘Seems like they used the technology they found, but only the technology that was … basic. Some of the buildings are 1960s era, yet the planes and cars are 1940s era. These aliens … are not the smartest creatures wandering the universe.’
‘Maybe,’ Susan began, ‘an alien craft crashed … after the war, and … just a handful of children survived, no adults. That would explain their lack of learning.’
‘Not after seventy years it wouldn’t,’ I suggested.
‘It would, because they’d have no reference points, no study material, no teachers, and no need to advance if they had food, shelter and basic devices to hand.’
‘We have lazy aliens?’ I quipped.
‘Necessity … is the mother of invention,’ Susan stated. ‘They had no needs, it was there waiting for them; empty houses, crops in the fields, animals.’
‘So where did the people go?’ I thought out loud.
‘Maybe the people moved out, and they live in Europe and elsewhere,’ Susan suggested. ‘A drone survey would tell us.’
A drone was duly launched through a portal to the alien world, and sent to the east coast of America, then on to Europe. There it photographed the aftermath of a nuclear war, one long since cooled off. And there were no obvious signs of life, other than grazing animals wandering around where annoyed motorists used to toot at each other.
Jimmy visited me a few weeks later, and a secret meeting was held with the intelligence directors of our linked worlds.
If the aliens had landed a ship, or had crash-landed a ship, or the adults were killed and the kid-aliens survived … however it happened, they wanted that ship and its technology. Jimmy agreed that a separate working group, involving PACT, would launch stealth drones and scan for the ship, which would be taken apart and inspected. Secret orders were given, plans made, and I found this all very exciting, trying to imagine what a spaceship might look like.
Since the volunteers in New Kinshasa would be involved in the spaceship science, I met with them a week later.
‘So what do you think a ship might look like?’ I asked them in a secret meeting.
The head scientist sighed. ‘We don’t think there is a ship.’
‘No?’ I queried.
‘No, sir, but … well, the military want to look for one anyway, so we’ll cooperate.’
‘So why don’t you think there’s a ship. They got there somehow, and not by portal. If they have portal technology, they’d have better TVs!’
‘True, sir, but every scientific study we’ve done suggests that long distance space flight is impractical, if not impossible for a biological life form to survive. If a ship was built big enough to carry a colony, then the fuel use would be excessive, the food consumption never being replaced by new organic growth, and … just one tiny micro-meteor or rock could destroy the ship. And space is full of dust and rocks. No, sir, the chances of a colony moving by ship are remote, unless…’
‘Unless what?’
‘Unless they have technology a hundred years ahead of us,’ he pointed out.
‘And our aliens are as bright as high-school drop-outs,’ I said with a sigh. ‘So, what’s your theory?’
The man took in the faces. ‘They were planted there.’
‘Planted there?’
‘Colonisation by an advanced race with portal technology,’ he suggested, as if a little embarrassed. ‘But they were not given technology, which is a good idea.’
‘A good idea?’ I repeated.
‘The implanted beings grow with their surroundings and … learn and invent as they go. They don’t blow themselves up with nukes.’
‘Ah,’ I let out, nodding. ‘Advanced aliens – who may well have suffered a war or two, want to start over; a greener agrarian existence founded by seeding other worlds.’
‘If that’s their policy, then we need to find them, and stop them,’ a lady scientist put in.
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Because they could try and seed one of our worlds.’
‘I guess they would take a look around first, and a post-apocalyptic world would suit them,’ the lead scientist suggested.
‘Yes, perfect for them. Houses and structures, but mankind gone,’ I realised.
‘I doubt they would travel to a populated world, sir.’
It gave me something to think about.
The big day
Since Jimmy was on this world, Dr Singh had travelled over to this world from 2048, and would open a portal here to the alien world – with much ceremony. He spent a few days with Jimmy, the guys catching-up, a few days touring Britain with
Jimmy, then took charge of the portal in Manson after we had all flown over together.
A prefabricated building, yet a clever prefabricated building, was thrown up on the nearby Manson Airfield, and every nearby hotel was now full. Many of the egg-heads and scientists lived in the nearest town and travelled out each day, and a few visiting boffins even elected for tents or prefabricated huts. It was June, so the weather was OK. Numerous meetings had been held, a simple vote on certain topics, Jimmy vetoing any silly ideas - since he was the only person who could cut through the political crap, and could knock down peoples egos and get away with it.
With a dozen cameras focused on him, Dr Singh checked the settings and threw the switch. Actually, the switch was just for show, since as he threw it a technician mouse-clicked an icon, unseen by the press. A micro-portal opened, hopefully at a point around the same date that one was previously opened, and radio signals flooded in, all recorded by computer, soon being sifted.
In the three months that had preceded the throwing of the switch, three months since Selemba had been born, some very clever groups had produced some very clever software, and that software was now categorising each word used by the various alien newscasters delivering the news, in man-fish language. I still referred to them as “man-fish”, but everyone else had adopted “Pisceans”. The very clever people, and their clever software, would have a language database by the morning – so they claimed. I said “bollocks”, and wondered how their software would categorise that.
We ate lunch with Dr Singh and the senior scientists, then stood waiting as a group of US Marines put on clothes resembling those of the man-fish world, and some dodgy plastic masks that would fool no-one close up. They had dart guns and real guns, and knock-out gas just in case. With a nod from Jimmy, they stepped through the portal, and we watched them walk forwards. Leaving them to go hunt down some unsuspecting pedestrian going about his business, we left the portal and sealed-in the scientists. A quarantine area had been set-up ready, doctors standing by, an exclusion zone around the airfield having been created.