The Trojan Horse (7 page)

“They’ve also offered to start licensing certain items to our industrial firms,” McGreevy continued, seemingly unaware of the President’s concern.  Her ambitions were an open secret in Washington, but few were prepared to challenge her openly.  “From what they’ve offered us, we can produce advanced batteries that will allow us to become energy-independent of the Middle East, medicines that will allow us to cure most diseases and hundreds of other devices that will improve the quality of life all over the world.  And all they ask in exchange is some land.”

Toby frowned.  The aliens had asked for only one thing; a small area of territory within the Continental United States that they could make their own.  It wasn't an unreasonable request, but there were sticking points.  Galactic Federation law, which no one on Earth knew anything about, would govern the territory, effectively granting the aliens extraterritorial rights and freedom from American law.  It struck him that the Chinese must have felt just as stunned and offended after the Opium Wars, when the Westerners had demanded the right to create enclaves in China that were not responsible to Chinese authorities. 

The aliens hadn’t threatened anyone.  They hadn’t pointed a gun to the government’s head and given them a choice between surrender or dying bravely.  What they’d done was far more subtle – and dangerous.  If the President refused to accept the alien technology – refusing to allow the aliens to establish an enclave on Earth – the United States would be cut out of the technological advances that would blossom all over Earth.  Toby knew that fusion power could change the world – and refusing to accept such a boon would be political suicide.  The President’s impeachment would be a foregone conclusion.

“Tell me something,” the Vice President said.  “Did they have anywhere in mind?”

“They said we could choose,” McGreevy said.  Toby knew that there would be an immediate political catfight over the location of the alien base.  Some Congressmen would want it for their states; others would fear the consequences of having the aliens so close to their constituents.  “They have a list of requirements, but none of them are particularly onerous.”

Toby glanced at the list.  The aliens wanted fresh water, a certain degree of isolation and an airport capable of taking human aircraft.  An old military base would serve as an ideal location, one that could be controlled.  After all, as soon as the aliens were established, the Witnesses would be on their way to picket the alien base and welcome the star gods to Earth.

“True,” the President agreed.  “Have they made the same offer to the other nations?”

“It’s impossible to tell,” the CIA Director admitted.  It was an open secret that the CIA – and every other intelligence agency in the world – spied on the UN.  “We had the room bugged, but something happened to the bugs – we have no independent record of what took place during any of the meetings.  I think we have to assume the worst.”

We don’t know what the iron bitch and the alien really said to one another
, part of Toby’s mind added, silently.  McGreevy had refused to carry a recorder into the chamber, pointing out that the aliens might consider it an unfriendly act.  It was logical enough, even believable, but Toby suspected that it hadn’t been her only motive for refusing.  The woman was simply too ambitious to be trusted.

“I think that we can find a suitable patch of land,” the President said.  He looked around the small compartment.  Despite all of its mystique, Air Force One was still only a jumbo jet, with the limited carrying capacity of its fellows.  “And then we will have to see if their promises really come true.”

Toby scowled, thinking hard.  The Native Americans hadn’t
just
lost because of smallpox; they’d lost because they could never duplicate the technology owned and used by the Europeans.  Gunpowder had been a mystery to them until it had reached America and they’d never been able to develop their own industrial base.  And then the Europeans had simply waged war from a playbook far more advanced than any known to the local civilisations.

“Yes, Mr President,” he agreed.  He already knew who would be placed in charge of finding a suitable patch of ground.  At least they’d have the opportunity to monitor the aliens as they set up their base.  They needed data and what little data they had was patchy, almost impossible to fit into a greater picture.  “I’m sure that we can find something suitable.”

Chapter Seven

Nevada

USA, Day 12

The heat slapped Jason in the face as he scrambled out of the air-conditioned aircraft and down towards the tarmac far below.  He winced as his hands touched the railing; it felt hot enough to cook eggs, or burn exposed human flesh.  The sun beat down on them from high above, mocking the puny humans making their way off the plane and heading towards a handful of buses waiting at one end of the runway.  In the distance, the silvery towers of the alien base rose up against the skyline.

“Papers, please,” a policeman said.  There were a number of armed policemen waiting at the buses, carefully checking the papers carried by the visitors.  The alien base had already become a favoured destination for travellers – the curious, the worshipful and even the hostile – and the local police force had found itself overwhelmed as it struggled to try and keep the unwelcome guests from scrambling over the fence and slipping towards the alien base.  “I need to check your papers.”

Jason produced his ID – his SETI card, the letter that had invited him to the base and the security card he’d been issued by a government minder – and waited for the policeman to check it, cursing the sun under his breath.  The heat seemed to grow every stronger – sweat was trickling down his back – as he waited; it seemed like hours before the policeman finally returned his ID and motioned for him to enter the bus.  It was cool inside, thankfully; he stumbled to a seat and collapsed in front of one of the windows.  He’d never faced such heat in his life.

The bus lurched into life and started driving down a road towards the alien base.  It had been constructed near a former USAF base for heavy-lift aircraft, allowing the Federal Government a high degree of control over the surrounding area.  The airfield was separated from the alien base by a network of fences and armed guards, but hardly anyone came to visit the former base unless one of the alien shuttles came to land on the field.  They reserved their attention for the aliens.  Nearly a week since the aliens had made their speech at the UN, they were still a source of endless fascination to the inhabitants of Earth.  Every alien base on the planet existed under the same state of friendly siege.

He winced as the bus neared the second layer of fencing.  There was a much stronger police presence there, along with a number of pro-alien and anti-alien protesters.  The policemen had separated the two sides when they started fighting, according to the driver, and left them sitting by the side of the road, their hands cuffed, until a police transport could arrive to take them away for processing.  God alone knew what would happen to them after that; Jason had known a couple of arrested protesters while he’d been at college and all they’d received had been a caution.  He looked away from one crying girl and up towards the alien base.  They built remarkably quickly.

Inside the fence, the alien base rose towards the sky.  Jason had seen videos of the aliens landing components on the ground and then assembling them into a single set of structures.  They’d moved with remarkable speed; some commenters on the television had pointed out that only a military unit could move with such speed and skill.  Their prefabricated structures looked oddly simplistic for a star-travelling society, although he did have to admit that the human race had no benchmark to measure the aliens against any other race.  Perhaps simple designs were a constant among the Galactics.

The base was composed of large angular structures, reminding him of the Pentagon to some extent, although the exact number of sides seemed to vary.  Their featureless metal walls seemed to glow of their own accord, although it could merely be a trick of the light.  He caught sight of the bus’s reflection as it parked beside one of the larger buildings and waited for the aliens to open the doors.  When the building finally opened up, Jason was among the first to scramble for the door.  There was no way he was going to pass up on the opportunity to see an alien base from the inside.

Inside, the alien base was something of a disappointment, although it was clear that it hadn't been built with humans in mind.  The proportions were odd to his eyes, casting a faint air of unreality over the entire scene; the lighting was bright, almost bright enough to hurt.  It smelled strange to his nose, something almost familiar, but he couldn't place his finger on the precise scent.  The aliens who had arrived to serve as silent escorts beckoned them forward whenever they started to fall behind, as if they were impatient to begin.  Jason found himself struggling to contain mounting excitement as they were finally shown into what was clearly a lecture hall.  It was large enough to hold almost two hundred humans.

He smiled as he took one of the seats and waited patiently.  The Galactics had offered to give information sessions to humans – and Jason, as the Discoverer, had found it easy to get a place.  He felt as if he didn't belong among the gathering of political leaders, businessmen and even a handful of religious representatives, but it hardly mattered.  How could he have refused the chance to actually ask questions of beings who had seen what awaited the human race in space?

***

An hour later, he was feeling much less optimistic.  The Galactics – they all seemed to be the same race, almost indistinguishable from one another – had opened with a brief session that repeated what they’d said at the UN, and then followed up with a series of blandishments that were long on optimism and short on detail.  They seemed happy to answer some questions in great detail, but other subjects seemed to draw imprecise answers – or even a simple refusal to answer at all.  It galled him as much as it puzzled him; they’d been promised answers, yet all they’d been given were bland statements that were devoid of any actual content.

Impatiently, he raised his hand.  The alien standing in front of them – wearing a black unmarked tunic and a hood that almost seemed to cover the alien face, but not the bright red eyes – looked at him, inviting him to speak.  SETI had primed him with any number of questions about the universe, yet so far he hadn't had an opportunity to ask any of them.  And now that he did, he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask after all.  The answers might not be forthcoming, or he might not want to know...

“You’ve told us that there are many forms of intelligent life among the stars,” he said, without preamble.  SETI had picked up on one thing about the Galactics that really didn't make sense.  For a multiracial society – in the truest possible sense – they seemed to all share the same racial origin.  “Why haven’t you introduced us to other forms of intelligent life?”

There was a pause as the alien appeared to consider.  Jason had once attended a political rally where the candidate had made the mistake of too-obviously depending upon prompts from his political manager, waiting in the wings and using a concealed earpiece to advise his master.  The alien seemed to be doing the same, although it was impossible to tell for sure.  They might be simply checking and rechecking the translation.  There had been a number of confusing utterances made by the aliens that had been blamed on translator error.

“Your race is unprepared to encounter more than one other form of intelligent life at present,” the alien said, finally.  They hadn't been given any names, or any other way of telling the aliens apart, something that bugged Jason and everyone else.  “You must understand that while there are many races that are humanoid, there are many others which have almost nothing in common with your race.  We were chosen to meet with you as we share a superficial similarity in form, but no biological similarity that might open the risk of a disease passing from an alien race to your own.”

Jason frowned.  He’d read
The War of the Worlds
in grade school and he’d been disappointed by the ending.  SETI, however, believed quite firmly that germs and viruses from another ecosystem would not be able to make the jump from alien into human – or vice versa.  The idea that the aliens might be so close to humanity as to allow cross-contamination seemed implausible – but then, alien life itself seemed implausible.  And SETI had never really had any data to prove or disprove its theories.

“That is a valid concern,” he acknowledged, after a moment.  “However, you have been reluctant to tell us
anything
about the other members of the Federation.  What kind of beings are they and when can we hope to meet them?”

There was a second pause.  “All such information is being restricted until your race develops the political and social maturity to handle such information,” the alien said.  The voice was as inhuman as ever, but Jason was sure that he detected a note of...
irritation
behind the cold dispassionate tone.  “We do not wish to cause political turmoil on your world that might upset the schedule for your entry into the Federation.”

One of the other visitors, a famous writer of military science-fiction, interrupted before Jason could say anything else.  “And you don’t want to tell us anything we could use against you,” he said.  “After all, we might
not
join the Federation.”

The alien looked at him, bright red eyes pulsing with an unreadable emotion.  “That is a concern,” he admitted.  “Your race’s xenophobia may lead you to challenge the Federation itself.”

“Now see here,” the writer said.  “That’s the bit I don’t get.  How can you possibly feel threatened by us?”

“When one race joins the Federation, it alters the pattern of Federation affairs – even if the race in question is harmless,” the alien said.  “Over the years, the Federation has never been threatened by another race, but we have learned to embrace change brought to us by new arrivals.  And yet your race has a level of xenophobia beyond anything displayed by any other known race.  We fear what you might do if introduced into our society.”

“Interesting,” the writer said.  “Does that mean that the Federation doesn't fight wars?”

This time, there was a very long pause.  “The Federation has not fought a war in generations,” the alien said.  “We do not need to fight when the benefits of cooperation are so clear to almost every race.  There is an unlimited bounty of resources out among the stars, enough for everyone.  Your race worries us because you may prove dangerous to others.”

The subject changed rapidly.  “As you are aware, we have already started distributing fusion generators to your nations,” the alien said.  “These generators produce enough power to handle all of your projected energy requirements for the next four decades before they will need to be refuelled.  By then, we expect that you will have made the switch to a fusion-based economy and started cleaning up your homeworld...”

Jason sighed and settled back in his chair.  At least they’d learned something about the aliens, if only that they were clearly reluctant to share certain kinds of data with Earth.  And that puzzled him.  He could have understood the aliens refusing to share designs for weapons – they would have made humanity much more dangerous – but surely information on the Federation’s member races couldn't be harmful.  The human race had had nearly two weeks to get used to the concept that they were surrounded by thousands of other intelligent races.  They surely could handle seeing visual depictions of other aliens; what were they - Cthulhu?

“I have another question,” the science-fiction writer said.  “How is the Federation actually governed?”

The alien seemed to hesitate again, before answering.  “The Federation is organised along democratic lines, with each race being given a vote in the government,” he said.  “Our government is run by consensus, with all proposed laws requiring a majority vote to pass into law.  Each race has internal autonomy within the Federation, but is expected to respect other races while in space...”

Jason jumped in, quickly.  “So there’s no shared sense of ethics...?”

Oddly, the alien didn't seem to mind the question.  “You must understand that different races have different ways of living,” he said.  “We have races that have one intelligent sex and one unintelligent sex.  Those races do not have any concept of equality between the sexes – and why should they?  Other races are telepathic, capable of operating a perfect democracy; they have little need for the complex governments designed by less capable societies.  There are races that breed in manners that would sicken you – and races that regard the human interest in sexual acts as barbaric.  Any attempt to force a united code of conduct on the Federation would result in disaster.”

He looked around the room.  “As I was saying, the importance of fusion power...”

***

Joseph Buckley had never hidden the fact that he’d served in the United States Navy during the early stages of the War on Terror, although he’d never seen anything reassembling real action.  Indeed, he’d been discharged from the Navy in 2010 and had turned his service experience into a series of best-selling science-fiction novels.  He’d invented his own science – a system involving a network of concentrated gravity streams, allowing transit from star to star – but he’d based the fictional space navies on his own experience in the USN.  The critics had loved them and he’d become moderately wealthy.  He’d even had a film planned out that had become stuck in development hell.