Alien Alliance (2 page)

The Alien politely took it off him and then
indicated talking, showing him its own device on its wrist and the
child’s one alternately. Ah, a communication device. It then
pointed it at him and then showed him his own image. Now why would
they combine a communication device and a visual recorder? Very
curious. Were they all scholars or students? This was going
well.

“Any worries?” He voice activated his own
communication device.

“All quiet. One aircraft landed just after
us but the Aliens are being led away from where you are. Others are
circling, most have gone away. The little craft are landing well
away from us. No obvious military aircraft close though some are
now in the air. No other signs of aggression. The air is
breathable, the temperature is passable, no serious toxins obvious.
You are safe to proceed.”

Paswalda altered his shield setting so he
breathed the local air. “They’ve seen People before. It’s obvious
in their reactions. I wonder who. Send the linguists out. Suit them
up.”

He had been noticing some smells and headed
towards a narrow moving set of small steps. This would be tricky.
The Aliens moved out of his way. He carefully timed it then moved
his front feet on then his back feet. He grabbed the rails with his
hands, careful to swing his tail up out of the way. Getting off was
easier if a little undignified. He was right. An eating room.
Excellent.

He moved the thing these Aliens sat on, out
of the way and balanced on his hind feet and substantial tail next
to the table. That flimsy thing wouldn’t have held him even if he
had fitted on it, which he couldn’t. Tiny creatures. The leader
here had followed him and was saying something to the Aliens by the
food. A few moments later, one came over with small samples of
several foods and another with samples of liquid. He put samples
into the analyser, rejected some and started to taste. He loved
this part. The linguists would now do their part and he would stay
here and have fun. Anything was better than ship food. These Aliens
weren’t daring to deny him. They were falling over themselves to
obey him. He wondered what People had made them so obedient.

The linguists appeared. He beckoned for the
Alien to go with them and left them to it.

Several happy hours passed while the supply
of food and drink kept coming. The variety was very good but he had
to leave a lot of it for a while as these creatures were so anxious
to appease him that a lot of the food was served while still hot.
After a while, they had got the point and served it all cold. There
was a large variety and he noticed a lot of it was being brought
in. From other manufacturing plants? It was primitive though. Some
of it was unprocessed! Yuk!

The linguists nearby were making progress,
that was obvious and he noticed that more and more the conversation
was starting to flow. He was displeased as he saw the Aliens had
offered the linguists some food; some of his favourite foods too.
Finally, he decided he had had enough and he headed back to his
ship. It was getting dark outside. He couldn’t eat any more. Time
to rest and digest it all.

As he returned to his ship, he noticed signs
the local scientists were desperate to get a look at him. They had
what looked like recording devices and lights but some crowd
controllers or competitors were trying to keep them at a distance.
Some of the recording devices were on poles to get over the crowds.
Ingenious! He entered the ship going to the bridge.

“Still no hostile behaviour,” said the
Attacker.

“Any military aircraft?”

“None that seem aggressive. Aircraft are now
landing here but mostly smaller ones. It appears some larger craft
that were on course to come here are landing at other places,
mostly this one,” he indicated a place south, fairly nearby.

“Yes, they have been well taught but I
wonder by who?” He proceeded on to his room, paused at the Checker
and again at the Cleaner, then entered his cabin.

Two shifts later he arose from his bag, went
through the Cleaner, through the Eliminator and up to the
bridge.

“Any problems?”

“No. All quiet. The large aircraft left and
came back again. Others continue to land and take off but mostly
small ones. The crowds are bigger but peaceful and being kept well
back by the locals.”

Paswalda put his shield back on anyway and
headed out for breakfast. This time, his favourite foods and drinks
appeared quickly and all cold. Very pleasing how fast these little
Aliens learned. Some time later he finished and headed over to the
Linguists. They looked exhausted. Very good. He liked his staff to
take work seriously.

“Well?”

“We think we have a working knowledge of
their language, enough for our purposes.”

“What have you told them?”

“Nothing, we left that to you.” She handed
the Translator over.

Paswalda faced the Aliens. He waited for
respectful silence.

“I have been sent here to take you for
political and trade talks. There are some People who have been
wanting to meet you for some time but have been waiting for you to
develop more. I have been paid to take ten of you but we did not
know your size. You are a lot smaller than my clients allowed for.
I am prepared to take twenty for the same price. I was held up so I
am in a hurry. If you want to come, you must be ready by this time
tomorrow. You will need to take all your own food and what else you
need. You will each need everything for about four of your months.
I should get you back here well within that. You can bring more of
your people if you want and can pay me with trade goods. I can take
another 400 of your size if you can allow for rough conditions. You
could bring traders, scientists, politicians, anyone you want. You
can bring your children. Children are popular and it would show
good faith. It would show trust. I will allow one of you on board
now to look at where you would be staying so you can see what you
need to bring. One can come now with my crew member,” he indicated
another one of his own species.

A small Alien nearby quickly stepped forward
and said,

“I will go.”

The two left as pandemonium broke out.
Paswalda decided this would be a good time for him to leave too so
he followed.

The small Alien went through the Cleaner and
Checker, having its bag checked on the way through. They insisted
on removing some of the objects they didn’t like.

While Paswalda thought his ship was
undetected, astronomers were at full alert as his ship was spotted
and tracked as it passed Mars. Sarah MacDonald watched the awesome
story unfold beginning at nearly midnight on 17
^th
January when amateur astronomers in Iceland first detected the
object that approached, then braked and went into Earth orbit.
Asleep when the news first broke, she made up for it by almost
living in one of the abandoned buildings of SETI, watching
developments as SETI locked everything they had on the object,
while they and other astronomers, many of them amateurs, watched it
and searched for others.

Founded in 1984, privately owned, funded by
donations and originally a growing body of scientists and support
staff, SETI, or Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence, had
recently had 250 paid staff but went into decline as the finance
yet again dried up around the world. Now, SETI ran with almost all
volunteers. It took millions simply to maintain all the buildings
and equipment, pay the bills and exist. There was little money for
wages.

Nearly yelling in frustration, Sarah, SETI’s
director, and her Team watched as on 21
^st
February,
first Germany, then America repelled a landing of probable
Extraterrestrials.

“Fools, imbeciles! I don’t believe this!
What stupidity and ignorance.” Sarah was nearly hoarse. “Where are
they going now? Thank God they aren’t giving up on us. What speed
are they travelling at?”

“I can’t calculate it. They’re moving so
fast! We keep losing them,” gasped Alan, her second in command
since he had reluctantly had to take a medical retirement. Sarah
looked at him in concern. He was so breathless these days.

Everyone was glued to whatever computer
terminal they could get near as they tried to track them. “They’ve
gone over Iceland,” someone called out.

“Siberia’s spotted them!” yelled Nanelle.
“Heading south!”

“Japan has them.”

“Hawaii’s tracking them.”

“Australia’s got them!”

“Auckland says they’ve just passed
overhead.”

“Oakland?!”

“No, Auckland, New Zealand.”

“Where’s New Zealand?” someone muttered.

“Down by Australia,” said Alan. “They’re
slowing. Braking?”

“They’ve lost them! Where are they?” cried
Nanelle. “Can anyone see them?” she asked on the ‘All Stations’
band.

“They’ve landed in Christchurch,” said a
shocked voice.

“Who is this?” asked Alan. “SETI here.”

“Christchurch here. New Zealand. They’ve
landed at the airport. They’re down.”

“What’s happening?” said Sarah leaning over
the mike. “SETI here,” she added. So much for protocol—everyone was
forgetting to identify themselves. “Is anyone shooting at
them?”

An amused male voice answered, “This is New
Zealand. We have stuff-all air force. Our cops aren’t armed except
for stunners. Not a shot was fired. Our air force, what there is of
it, is very wisely staying on the ground. This thing is huge. It’s
covering a quarter of the airport. Oh, and it has anti-gravity. It
landed on legs. No wheels. No jets. It must be anti-gravity. We saw
it come down. Oh, this is the Control Tower here, at the
airport.”

“SETI here. What’s it look like?” asked
Sarah. “Details please!”

“It’s a reddish, what? terracotta the women
tell me, irregular sort of roundish rectangular shape with a flat
bottom. It’s got bulges and stuff everywhere all over it. It’s
huge, it’s like a massive cruise liner sitting on the tarmac. No
windows, I can’t see in.”

Sarah looked over to Alan. “Alan, get on the
phone, book 25 tickets on the next flight to Christchurch, New
Zealand. And let me know what time it leaves. Nanelle, phone till
you get 25 or so that are ready to go. Get them to go straight to
the airport then get Barry to help you, load up the luggage. Load
it all. Bring back the luggage for those who are not going. Oh, and
Nanelle, please book us motel beds. As close to the airport as
possible.”

Within four hours of the landing, Sarah and
twenty-two of the SETI group, were on their way to New Zealand.
Sarah had made it a rule that a minimum of 25 people were to be
packed, their bags at SETI, and ready to go at two hours notice.
Twenty-two was good enough. The luggage was sent to LAX and the
Team met at the airport. During the long delay for security
clearance, Sarah phoned ahead, and managed to make contact with the
harassed airport manager.

“My name is Sarah MacDonald. I’m bringing a
full SETI team with me. We didn’t have time for visas but then
neither did the people we want to meet. Can you have a word with
New Zealand immigration on our behalf? I’ll email you all our
details to pass on to them.”

Alan puffed to a halt and sat down,
listening, wishing he could smoke here, wishing he had exercised
more and eaten a lot less, wishing his heart was in better nick.
He’d been wishing most of that for decades. He watched as Sarah
organised everyone, checked luggage and checked people. She was a
gift to SETI, he thought. She was their chief fundraiser as well as
their director. That was the first time Alan had ever seen her in
action. She worked a room like a professional. She had an almost
photographic memory, was vivacious, caring, had a great sense of
humour and was a stubborn fighter. When people spoke to her she
listened. She did not look around the room planning her next move,
did not trump what they said with her own experience or
considerable knowledge and treated people as if they were worth
listening to. It was a gift. It was also her personality. She would
have made a brilliant counsellor or psychiatrist, he thought.

She was a somewhat puzzling contradiction to
him at times. Sarah was not concerned with image so she avoided its
trappings. It wasn’t how successful she looked to others that
concerned her which was in stark contrast to him. To her, what
mattered was what she and her followers could achieve. She also
wasn’t acquisitive. Her car was 15 years old and he wouldn’t be
seen dead owning a car that old. But she owned her own home
freehold which was more than he did. Four divorces and six kids had
seen to that. She lived frugally because material possessions
didn’t matter to her. He sighed—he could spend in a month what
would keep her for a year. Frugal was a word no one would apply to
him. She didn’t accept her salary but ploughed it back into SETI,
another thing he wouldn’t do. She had unintentionally made herself
financially independent by writing and publishing books, articles
and lectures. Her writing was well researched, brilliantly written,
topical, easy to read and fascinating. He had read most of it.

Unlike his, her house was untidy and her
housework undone because she seldom got around to it. There was
always something more important to do. Her teenage daughter Katy
didn’t help, being somewhat more untidy than her mother; and a lot
less organized. In contrast, Sarah’s work space was tidy and well
organized because she deplored inefficiency and ran a tight ship.
Sarah’s dream was her job; searching for Extra Terrestrials. She
was dedicated, tireless and determined.

Physically she wasn’t imposing and
definitely was not his type. Too short at about five foot eight, a
brown-eyed brunette, where he liked women a bit shorter than his
five foot eleven, and blonde and blue-eyed. Sarah was good looking
but not a beauty, a bit plump where he liked them slim with big
boobs, but when she spoke, people listened like they were doing
now. She was a natural speaker, with that beautiful voice; velvety
but powerful, charismatic. She carried people along with her. Under
her leadership, SETI had been first in recovery mode and for the
last few years had been growing and expanding. Sarah had plans.