Cargo Cult (23 page)

“I’m going to find the cops who
sent me down,” said another, “and I’m going to hang them up by
their dorsal manipulators while I boil their insides with a
microwave laser.”

“Yeah, I’m going to pull all their
secondary genital grapples off and make the bastards eat them.”

“Hey!” Shorty shouted, gaining
instant silence. “You want to know what I’m going to do to the next
idiot who opens their stupid mouth while I’m trying to get to
sleep?” A long silence was her answer. “Good. Now get some rest.
We’re going human-hunting in the morning.”

-oOo-

Detective Sergeant Barraclough and
the Agent had stopped moving too.

“There is a cordon of armed humans
all around the vehicle we seek,” the Agent said, softly. It
gestured with one hand and a small relief map of the area appeared
in the air before them. Barraclough could see the bus parked in
front of a cluster of farm buildings. A line of police cars were
parked beyond the bus, a couple of them still burning. Further out,
there were more police vehicles, including helicopters, vans and a
mobile command and control unit. Nearby were two more helicopters
and some more vehicles, which Barraclough took to be the press.
Several people were around and inside this cluster of vehicles.
Many more were spread out in a rough circle around the farm. The
amazingly clear little map showed where the Agent and he were
standing, just a few hundred metres from the nearest policemen in
the cordon.

“Come on!” said Barraclough. “These
are my friends. It’s OK.” He set off at a run in the direction of
the nearest policeman. He had barely gone five paces before the
Agent grabbed him from behind and lifted him off his feet. He
struggled and squirmed but he felt like a five-year-old in the grip
of an adult—one who worked out a lot. He raged impotently. “What
are you doing, you big bloody galah? These blokes are on our
side.”

“Be quiet human. There will be
panic if I appear to your friends. They will most likely fire their
weapons and it is possible that some of them will be injured or
killed.”

“Then let me go and explain things
to them. It’ll be all right.”

“My decision is final, human. If
you do not comply, I will be forced to restrain you. It is against
my code of ethics to endanger sapient life unnecessarily.”

Barraclough sulked. “Your code of
ethics didn’t stop you kidnapping me though, did it!”

The Agent was unperturbed. “That
was necessary.” It set Barraclough down and the policeman stayed
where he was put. “We will stay here tonight and approach the
humans in the morning.”

Barraclough was still sulking. “Oh
great. Now I get to spend the night doing it tough in the bush. You
might be a big, black Godzilla thing, but I’m only human, you know.
I need...”

He broke off as a large dome
appeared around them. It cut the endless noise of the cicadas off
completely and he could no longer feel the warm breeze that had
been blowing. The dome shimmered slightly although he could easily
see through it.

“We are now invisible from the
outside,” the Agent told him. “We are also secure from most
meteorological effects as well as from wild animals below thirty
tonnes in size.”

Barraclough just humphed in
response. “So, unless there’s a giant tsunami and we get attacked
by blue whales while we’re submerged, I suppose we’ll be all right
then.”

“I feel you are not content,
human.”

“I should be out there helping my
mates sort this out. They don’t know they’re up against
aliens.”

“What about your quest to
incarcerate Douggie Mack? You seemed very dedicated to this
objective not long ago.”

“I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ve
finally got Douggie in perspective.” He sat on the ground with his
head in his hands. It had been a long time coming but he was just
beginning to realise the enormity of what he had become involved
in. Aliens were on the Earth. Creatures from other worlds were
running around loose in the Queensland countryside—disguised as
Loosi Beecham. Yeah, well, maybe that was a bit too weird, but...
aliens! And they’d taken a bus out into the country. No. Whichever
way he went with this, the banality of it all kept him from
experiencing the full force of the awe and wonder he knew he ought
to be feeling.

“Agent?”

“Yes, human.”

“You’re, like, a proper alien
aren’t you? I mean, you’re big and ugly and sinister and all that.
You’ve got a mission. You’re a serious kind of bloke—well, thing,
anyway.”

“I think I understand,” the Agent
said, its deep, deep voice reinforcing Barraclough’s impression.
“You want to know why the Vinggan’s are such imbeciles?”

“That’s it exactly! You see, people
have always said that any race advanced enough to travel here
across interstellar space is going to be as superior in
intelligence and morality as it is in technology. Yet...”

“What you have failed to understand
is that large groups of sapients can develop science and
technologies well beyond the capacity of individual members to
understand. You humans have probably already done so. Can you
explain to me how even something as simple as your weapon works?
You probably think you can. But do you know how to mix the
explosive that was used to propel the bullets? Do you know the
composition of the many different alloys that were used in the
weapon’s construction? Could you even tell me how the lead of the
bullets is produced? Which ores? Found where? Mined how? Processed
how? Shaped how?

“And yet it is a very simple and
primitive weapon. Somehow, your species has the knowledge and
understanding to make all of the many complex devices it uses
without any individual having the ability to make any of them from
the raw materials. It is the same with the Vinggans. They are an
old race. They have had many thousands of years for their science
and technology to far outstrip their native abilities. It is true
that, because they are a very average sort of species, it has taken
them a lot longer than you might think to get so far. They've also
had a lot of help lately.”

“But what about the ethics and
morality of a species?” Barraclough insisted. “Shouldn’t they
outstrip the limitations of the individual too?”

“No. There is a small tendency,
observed in the less savage species, for the moral code of the
society to be, on the whole, somewhat more benign than that of the
average individual. But, unlike science and technology, there can
be no accumulation of ‘moral knowledge’, no building on the
discoveries and successes of others, no codification that isn’t
simply a reflection of whatever ethical system particular groups of
individuals can agree on at particular times. The fact is that
there is no underlying ‘moral reality’ the way there is a physical
reality.”

Barraclough was horrified. “So
space is full of low IQ moral idiots in charge of super
technologies?”

“Yes indeed. Welcome to the galaxy,
human.”

-oOo-

Sam was worn out. Discussing
anything with that moron Braxx was like trying to argue with a
heavy rainstorm. You could reason all you liked. You could appeal
to its sense of fair play. You could scream and shout till you were
hoarse. But the bloody thing just kept pouring down over you as if
you didn’t matter a damn. Which, in Braxx’s world view, she
eventually realised, she didn’t. No human did. The human race was
inferior to the Vinggan race, therefore humans could be, and should
be, pissed on from a great height.

“Why are we even talking to this
narrow-minded fascist?” she demanded of John. “I am not going to be
organised into labour parties to build a temple to the Great
Spirit. I’m not going to be organised into anything by this pack of
walking Barbie dolls. Build her a temple? I wouldn’t spit in her
mouth if her bloody teeth were on fire!”

John jumped into the lull that
Sam’s outburst had engendered. “Actually, er, Braxx, I was
wondering what happened to the plan to fly us all off into space to
a better world where you would bestow your magnificent technology
upon us and we’d live in Paradise forever more?”

“What plan?” asked Braxx.

“Oh for God’s sake, John,” said Sam
in total exasperation. “These are not your stupid Sky People. These
are, well, something else. Something real. They haven’t come here
to fly you off to Heaven, you moron. They’re here to invade the
bloody planet, or something.” She turned her glare on Braxx. “Isn’t
that right, mein bloody Führerin?”

Braxx smiled a beatific smile. He’d
been doing a lot of that and it was getting right up Sam’s nose.
“Please calm yourself. We are not here to invade your miserable
mudball. We are here to bring you salvation. We are here to bring
you and all your race to the understanding which bringeth joy. We
wish to convert you to the worship of the Great Spirit.” He thought
for a moment. “And maybe to civilise you a bit too, since we’re
stuck here. It would be nice if we could get you to at least act
sane, even if you’re not.”

“What do you mean, stuck here?”
demanded John.

Braxx looked a little sheepish.
“Small problem with the old spaceship,” he confessed. “Drukk hasn’t
got a clue how to fix it. So I suppose we’re here for good. The
Great Spirit plots a complex course to our final happiness, as they
say.” He shrugged, to show how helpless even he was when it came to
Destiny. “But I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine once you’ve
got the hang of a few basics.”

“You mean your spaceship
is...?”

“Smashed beyond repair, yes. I’d
send Drukk back there to see if he could do something, you know,
but the computer’s, well... Let’s just say it makes you humans look
pretty well normal by comparison.” Braxx laughed heartily and the
other Vinggans joined in. Sam and John looked on appalled.

Gradually, the laughter subsided.
“So, you see, we’re here for good.”

“But what shall I tell the
Receivers?” said John.

Sam had begun pacing up and down.
She was growing more and more agitated. She had to get out of this
mess, somehow, and get Wayne out too. These aliens were as nutty as
the cultists she’d come to interview and they were surrounded by
trigger-happy police, armed with God knows what by now. Anything
could happen and, if she stayed here, she was more likely to be a
victim of it than the intrepid reporter who tells the world the
true, inside story.

What was going on here, she now
saw, was an alien invasion of the Earth. Not one the aliens planned
exactly but, now that they were here, one they intended to
prosecute with hideous alien cunning. What better way to subjugate
the planet than to convert us all to their alien religion. She
shuddered at how well they must have studied our psychology. They
must have been watching and learning about our weaknesses for years
to understand us so well. But Sam had to get out. She had to warn
the world before it was too late. In her mind’s eye she saw the
armies of brainwashed worshippers hunting down and destroying the
last cells of free-thinking human resistance and, while the human
race turned on itself, their alien puppet masters sat on thrones in
their magnificent palaces, having their nails done and reading
Cosmopolitan
.

No. No. Scratch that end bit. They
were not really Loosi Beecham, they were evil, disgusting alien
monsters who, for some reason best know to their own psychologists,
had chosen to invade the Earth disguised as a film star. It was
probably something to do with men, she decided. Look at what an
idiot Wayne had been making of himself ever since he met Drukk. Not
that he didn’t always make an idiot of himself in some way or other
but Sam was prepared to bet that, as she’d always suspected, the
aliens had worked out that dangling a pair of breasts the size of
watermelons under a man’s nose meant you could get him to believe
anything.

Look at John, the so-called guru
guy, she thought. There he is trying to salvage something of the
pathetic fraud he’d been perpetrating on all those idiots out
there, his world crumbling down around him, half a dozen armed
aliens who could wipe us all out on a whim, and he still can’t keep
his eyes from wandering all over their bodies!

“I want you to let us go right
now,” Sam burst out, suddenly afraid that all was lost, and that,
under the influence of all that cleavage, in a mentally enfeebled
state, John was about to become their first convert.

They all looked at her.

“I mean it. I want you to release
us. There must be hundreds of armed police out there by now. If you
don’t let us go, they’ll come in here after us and you won’t stand
a chance, force-fields or no force-fields. Your only hope is to let
us go and give yourselves up. Do you understand.”

Braxx sighed. “I fear this human is
too unstable. It is a tragedy that their minds are not able to
function coherently for more than a few minutes. Would somebody
please dispose of her? At this rate, we’ll end up shooting them
all.”

The Vinggans all pulled out their
weapons and levelled them at Sam, who stared back at them open
mouthed and speechless. Fortunately for her, John leapt to his
feet.

“Wait! No. I mean stop! Don’t shoot
her! I, er, wait... That’s it! I feel a conversion coming over me!
Yes, that’s it! An epiphany! I see the light. Oh the Great Spirit
has entered my heart. Oh the joy! I want to worship Her. Please
Braxx, show me how to worship the Great Spirit.”

Braxx was a little taken aback. He
raised a hand to stop his followers shooting anyone for the moment.
He stared curiously at John. He’d expected it to take several days
of torture before the human, John, would embrace his teachings.
That’s how it usually went with Vinggans anyway. But, if this is
how it was going to be with humans, he was certainly not going to
complain about it! After all, he had some seven billion souls to
save and if he had to torture every one of them, it could get a bit
tedious. No, this was a much better way. He gave a silent prayer of
thanks to She who had made it all possible.