The Great Destroyer (4 page)

The German tanks perched on the low hills near Prokorovkha, their crews looking out over the advancing Soviet armored forces and desperately trying to whittle down the horde coming at them.  The smaller Soviet tanks moved toward the German line under heavy fire, losing dozens of their number but pushing their weaker guns into range. 

Against all logic, the German Tigers suddenly lurched forward, sallying forth to meet their Soviet counterparts in a field of sunflowers.  1,200 Soviet and 800 German tanks fought like massive mechanical gladiators for four hours in the largest tank battle in history, each side trying to conclusively break the other’s will to fight. 

For one morning, that sunflower field outside a thoroughly unimportant Russian village became the focal point of humanity’s rage, expressed through the most technologically sophisticated weapons in existence.

Jackson mumbled discontentedly to himself.  The tone was too reverent, too melodramatic.  He often fell into that problem with his writing.  Almost no one remembered the Battle of Kursk and they would not be as immediately enraptured in the story as he was.  Jackson needed to write for that audience.  He wanted this essay to make the few readers of
Conflict Resolution History Review
consider the bravery of the men who had died in the sunflower field over six hundred years earlier.

He was about to give the introduction another go when his secretary buzzed him.  “Yes?”

“Some Terran Alliance people are here to see you.”

Puzzled, Jackson asked, “Why?”

“I’m not sure.  Should I ask them?”

Shaking his head despite the fact that his secretary couldn’t see him through the office door, Jackson said, “No, just send them in.”

In walked a lithe Asian woman, with metal-rimmed glasses and the unkempt look of a scientist.  Beside her was a soft-looking man whose doughy face and ruddy cheeks clashed with his thin frame.

The man spoke first, offering his hand.  “Pleased to meet you, Professor Jackson.”

His mind on autopilot, Jackson replied, “Likewise.  And you are... ?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, how silly of me, I thought you’d recognize me from the news.  Gavin Henderson, Assistant to First Representative Flower.”

“Ah.” 

Henderson waited as if expecting some friendly comment about his boss.  When none was forthcoming, he gestured awkwardly to the Asian woman.  “This is Dr. Emma Takagawa of the Space Administration.”

“Pleased to meet you, Dr. Takagawa,” Jackson said, meaning it more this time. 

She gave a brief nod, obviously impatient with the pleasantries.  “Professor Jackson, do you know how to organize an army?”

Gavin Henderson looked like he was about to throw up.  He whispered plaintively, “Dr. Takagawa, please, this is a highly confidential matter.  I would urge you to be more discrete.”

Jackson, confused by the interaction between his two visitors, said, “My field of expertise is the history of conflict resolution.”

Takagawa rolled her eyes.  “That sounds like bullshit.  Do you know how to organize an army or not?”  Henderson blanched visibly.

No one had ever spoken to Jackson this way.  It triggered something in his mind that had lain dormant for decades—a desire to impress.  “Dr. Takagawa, I have extensively studied the organization, strategies, and tactics of armies throughout history.  I have written dozens of research papers on subjects like the mobilization of the United States military for World War II.  If someone alive today knows more about organizing an army than I do, I have yet to meet that person.”

Takagawa smiled, and Jackson suddenly felt as if his knees might buckle.  “Good.  Then you are the person I need for my new project.”

Apoplectic, Henderson squealed, “Dr. Takagawa, please, we must not discuss such confidential information outside of secure areas.”

Airily waving away Henderson’s warning, Takagawa said, “Professor Jackson won’t tell anyone—will he?”

Jackson replied, “That depends.  What the hell kind of project are you working on?”

“Approximately 30 hours ago, the Gagarin Telescope took a picture of an object entering the Solar System...”  Takagawa’s explanation continued for several minutes, concluding, “If the aliens turn out to be hostile, Earth will be almost totally defenseless.  The Terran Alliance’s Ministry of Public Safety is barely even a police force.  Unless the aliens end up being unarmed rioters, the Public Safety personnel will be useless.”

Filling in the deductive gap, Jackson said, “And you want me to build an army for you that can present a credible deterrent to the aliens.”

She shook her head.  “No, Professor Jackson. 
I
will build the army, the soldiers who can fight our war. 
You
will organize it.  You will tell me what I need to teach our soldiers to make them effective.  If it comes to it, you will devise the strategies we can use to defeat our enemy.”  Takagawa folded her arms, making Jackson even more aware of her slender figure.  “That is the job description.  You up to it?”

Fear flooded Jackson’s brain as the basic human bias for the status quo filled him with doubt.  He didn’t know what kind of weapons the aliens would have.  He didn’t know what their logistics were like. 
Hell, I don’t even know what they themselves look like and what can kill them.  I’m just a history professor.

Another variable entered his mental calculus a split-second later.  He knew the Public Safety Ministry and its capabilities.  Led by incompetents and human resources types, they wouldn’t last five minutes in a real battle.
 

If I don’t do this job, someone less competent will be responsible.
 
Someone less competent will defend Dr. Takagawa and all the rest of humanity.

The decision was made.  “You’re damn right I’m up for it.”

Takagawa’s face broke into a tight smile.  “Excellent.  Welcome aboard.  Tell your boss that you’ve been requisitioned by the Terran Alliance.  If the President of Yale gives you any shit about your extended leave of absence, tell him the Alliance will not hesitate to cut off his grant funds.  This is life or death stuff.”

She looked around his office.  “Are you ready to start?”

Jackson didn’t hesitate.  “Yes.”

“Then let’s go.  Gavin, you can get someone to pack up Professor Jackson’s effects, can’t you?”

Henderson bobbed his head enthusiastically.  “Absolutely, Dr. Takagawa.”

As Jackson walked out of his office, he didn’t give a moment’s thought to his effects, his tenure, or even the dozens of students who had lost their professor, thesis advisor, or mentor.  He thought only of the spaceship on the pictures shown to him by Emma Takagawa.

The First Representative struggled to pay attention to the fireworks technician.  She told herself that this was her work, the reason she was here in the first place.

Normally, overseeing the Unification Day celebrations was one of the important executive functions managed by the Terran Alliance’s head of state.  Lian Flower had made a name for herself as Entertainment Minister by ensuring that such celebrations went off without a hitch and exhibited panache to boot.

Now, however, she could think only of space, of the vessel her advisers told her was streaking toward Earth this very second.

She finally interrupted the fireworks technician, who had been in the middle of a soliloquy on the beauty of purple-hued sparklers set atop the Terran Alliance Legislature complex.  “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue the discussion at a later date,” Flower said politely.

Her aides shooed the technician out the door, leaving the First Representative momentarily alone in her office.

Flower picked up her phone.  “Get me the Equality Minister, please.”

As her aides returned to the room, Equality Minister Tanya Eldridge came on the line.  “Good afternoon, First Representative.”

Uncharacteristically, Flower ignored the pleasantry.  “Have you made any progress in planning for the arrival of that spaceship?”

The Equality Minister actually laughed.  “Slow down, First Representative!  We’ve only been at it for four days.  We just finished orientation and HR training today.  A lot of these scientists and astronomers have never worked for the Terran Alliance.  They needed to be briefed in on our state-of-the-art compliance and diversity protection systems.”

Nodding impatiently, Flower said, “So you haven’t developed any plans yet for meeting the aliens?”

“No, but I’m confident we’ll figure it out quickly.  Also, I must ask that you not refer to the extraterrestrials as ‘aliens.’  You surely know that term’s problematic history.”

Flower said with complete sincerity, “I apologize for my ignorance, what would a more inclusive title be?”

The Equality Minister replied sagely, “I have given the matter a great deal of thought.  ‘Extraterrestrial,’ while technically correct, also has a negative connotation of otherness.  My Equality Council and I just two hours ago voted to adopt the term ‘Superterrestrials,’ which can be shortened to ‘Supers.’  That name conveys the fact that these beings are not of our Earth while respecting their relation to our world.”

Flower had barely heard Eldridge’s words.  “When will you begin planning what you’ll say to them, how you’ll meet them?”

“Tomorrow.  We had a long final orientation session, so I sent everyone home for the day.”

Glancing out her window, Flower saw the bright early afternoon light and grimaced.  “Please complete the work as quickly as possible; we need to start getting ready for this.  Also, please share whatever plans you develop for the al—... Supers with Dr. Takagawa.  She will need to know how to design her weapons.”

The glower from the Equality Minister was very nearly audible over the phone line.  “I doubt ou needs to know anything in particular in order to make barbaric weapons.”

Flower sighed.  “Please continue your work.  Goodbye.”  She hung up the phone.

The First Representative rubbed her forehead, trying to ward off a headache.  She tapped the intercom to her secretary.  “Please get me the latest polling numbers on personal approval ratings for Minister Eldridge.” 

She sat back and sipped at her green tea.  In two minutes, the email window flashed on her computer.  She opened the message and the attached document.

Her face was impassive as she scanned the numbers.  While one could not become First Representative of the Terran Alliance without worldwide support, popularity in certain key regions foreshadowed support throughout the world. 

Tanya Eldridge was formerly a representative of the region that had once been the northeastern United States.  That sector was the bedrock of her political support, with a 70 percent positive approval rating.  The rest of the United States wasn’t far behind.  Her standing in Western Europe was also strong.  The weak areas were places with relatively strong residual religiosity or archaic economic views: India, the southern United States, regions like that.  Those places tended to be lagging indicators, however, particularly when the rest of the most influential countries favored a particular candidate.

Flower called her assistant, Gavin Henderson.  He might be busy with Takagawa’s project, but he’d know that talking to Flower was a more profitable use of his time.  He answered on the first ring.

“Hello, First Representative,” he answered, having seen on his phone who the caller was.

Without prelude, Flower said, “What do you think of Eldridge’s latest numbers?”

Henderson knew immediately what she was talking about.  What other numbers might matter?  “Ou’s strong and slowly getting stronger.  We’re going to need to do something about her soon or ou will have enough support to win a vote of no confidence against you the first time something goes wrong.”

Flower did not allow herself to react viscerally.  “My thoughts exactly.  And this welcoming committee thing for the aliens is going to make ou even stronger.” 

Gavin felt the need to cheer his boss up.  “Or ou might offend the aliens and ou’ll be destroyed on worldwide TV.”

“Great.  Then I get the blame for putting ou there,” Flower muttered. 

She had known the danger of bringing Eldridge into her Advisory Council in the powerful position of Equality Minister—a popular job where a politician could perpetually play the role of majoritarian advocate. 

And, as the Terran Alliance’s slogan repeatedly proclaimed, people were the most important thing.  If Eldridge played her cards right, she could be First Representative in five or ten months. 

Of course, bringing her on guaranteed my ascension to First Representative
, Flower remembered.  If Eldridge hadn’t kept her faction of anti-corporate Equalizers in the Flower coalition, First Representative Ismail might have rallied enough support to keep his office.  It had not been a wholly bad idea, therefore, to recruit Eldridge to the Cabinet.

Flower thought aloud to her subordinate.  “She keeps calling the aliens ‘supers.’  You think ou’s trying to make us look xenophobic?  Could that be her game?” 

As Equality Minster, Eldridge’s popularity and power derived from her ability to create and harness umbrage against powerful enemies.  Flower, the foremost politician on the planet, knew she was a plump target.  It was only a matter of time before Eldridge turned her wrath toward the First Representative in hopes of taking over.  But she needed a victim, someone Eldridge could be accused of oppressing.

“Shit, that makes a lot of sense,” Gavin said.  “We just have to hope people aren’t too sympathetic toward the aliens.  It could be the whole asexual fiasco all over again.”

Flower remembered Eldridge’s last brilliant move to find a victim, which had paid handsome dividends.  The Asexual Equality Regulations, providing marriage benefits for people who chose to have no partners, was a brilliant move on the part of the Equality Minister.  She had solidified several key demographics, particularly the Japanese, where asexuality had its strongest presence.  The play made Flower look heartless for not moving on the issue sooner.

“How do we counter it?” Flower asked.

Gavin thought for a minute.  “Let’s get our comms team leaking some stuff to the media about how our experts think the Supers will want to commence trade right away and might have some great new technologies.  Then, when Eldridge fails to deliver, ou’ll look bad.”

Of course, if the Supers really did arrive and shower the Earth with benefits, Eldridge would be the hero and would be swept into the First Representative’s office within months, Flower realized.  But the First Representative knew from decades of bureaucratic experience that, in the Terran Alliance, unambiguous success was the exception rather than the rule.

“That’s why you’re the best, Gavin.  Get that ball rolling, please.”