The Trojan Horse (19 page)

The group broke up slowly, the mourners heading back to the farmhouse for the wake.  Coleman’s will had given specific instructions; he’d put money aside for beer and ordered the Colonel – who had been named as his executor – to invite as many of his friends and former comrades from the Marines.  The Colonel knew that he couldn’t invite anyone outside the circle, but he’d silently promised himself that he’d hold a proper wake once the war was over – assuming he survived the coming struggle.  If the aliens were prepared to launch a hit on a famous General, they were clearly preparing to come into the open.

“I’m sorry, Blake,” he said, quietly.  It was a long tradition that American forces never left their comrades behind, dead or alive.  He’d had no choice, but it still left him feeling as if he’d failed Coleman – and Toby.  God alone knew what kind of shit would fall from high above – quite literally – if anyone drew the line between Blake Coleman and Toby Sanderson.  They’d been careful not to leave any written notes lying around that could have attracted attention, but what if they’d made a mistake.  The Colonel had no illusions.  If the FBI had enough clues, they’d put the rest together in very short order.  “Go with God, my friend.  Perhaps you can remind Him whose side he’s supposed to be on.”

Leaving the unmarked – and empty – grave behind, the Colonel started to walk back to the farmhouse.  There would be a wake.  And then they would have alien butt to kick.

***

The first impression was blinding white light, so bright that it seemed to burn into his skull.  He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, but the light poured through, sending daggers of pain plunging through his eyeballs and into his head.  It moved almost like a thing alive, shivering into his mind and burning through his thoughts.  Blake Coleman screamed in pain as his eyes snapped open.  The light seemed to be coming from everywhere, all around his body.  He couldn’t even tell if he was lying on something, or floating in the air.  His body seemed to have lost all sensation.  Once, long ago, he’d volunteered for a session in a sensory-deprivation tank.  It had been eerie and thoroughly unpleasant, but this was worse.  The light seemed almost alive, flowing into his mind.  And could he hear something…?

Hell
, he thought, as the noise finally registered on his troubled mind.  A high-pitched whining note, so loud that he honestly couldn’t understand why he hadn’t heard it at once, was tearing through his ear drums.  Slowly, so slowly, a shadow appeared against the light, inching its way towards him.  Discovering that he could move his eyeballs, even if nothing else, Blake turned his eyes and saw a form silhouetted against the light.  It was so bright that he couldn’t make out any features, but it was clearly not human.  The movements were all wrong.

Understanding dawned.  He’d been hit – he’d known at once that the shot was fatal – and he’d been taken prisoner.  Somehow, they’d saved his life.  Had the Colonel’s son been wrong about the aliens, or did they merely want someone to interrogate?  Blake had undergone extensive Conduct after Capture courses, but he knew that everyone broke eventually.  The aliens could probably reach into his mind and extract the memories directly…

A new sound appeared from high above him.  Blake’s eyes whipped away from the alien form and stared upwards, squinting into the light.  A long thin needle was slowly emerging from high above, reaching down towards his skull.  Absolute panic overcame him and he struggled desperately against the unseen restraints, but it was no use.  His body simply refused to obey his orders.  Inch by inch, the needle lanced down until it was right above his forehead.  Blake braced himself as best as he could, watching helplessly as the alien form peered down at him.  A hand touched his forehead – it felt almost like touching a lizard – and pushed his hair away from his face.  And then the needle came down.

There was a long moment of absolute pain…and then nothing, nothing at all.

Chapter Nineteen

Washington DC

USA, Day 35

“…Gives me great honour to declare that this building is now open,” Jeannette McGreevy said.  Sitting in a seat at the front, which he’d been assured was a great honour, Jason somehow managed to avoid looking at his watch.  McGreevy had been talking for at least half an hour, touching on all the benefits the Galactic Federation would bring to Earth and how it would improve the quality of human life all over the planet.  Beside her, a handful of smaller alien devices sat and waited for inspection.  One of them cleaned and purified water; another broke down waste food and turned it into chewy bars that tasted funny, but provided all of the essential nutrients for human life.  “It is my fervent prayer that the Welcome Foundation will assist the entire human race in uplifting itself to the stars…”

Jason snorted, inwardly.  It was
his
fervent prayer, right now, that McGreevy would shut up and finish, allowing him to get some work done.  Even before the Welcome Foundation had been officially announced, they’d been swarmed with lobbyists and lawyers demanding everything from a private look at advanced alien technology to bans on the spread of alien technology that might put humans out of work.  Congress had voted the Welcome Foundation a huge budget – they’d used it to buy up a set of buildings in Washington and convert them to their use – but Jason had a suspicion that Crenshaw, Professor Cavendish and the remainder of the Board would have to use the budget merely to hire administrators to handle all the requests.  And lawyers; Jason was already thoroughly sick of lawyers.  Even being the Discoverer didn’t seem to deter them from calling him at all hours and nothing, including threats of dire retaliation, seemed to deter them.

He glanced over at the aliens and smiled inwardly.  It was hard to read the expressions on their faces, but he was learning – and if he was reading them correctly, they were as bored as Jason himself.  The bracelets they wore to denote rank glittered brightly in the sun, but their faces were twitching, unlike the inscrutable expression that normally showed to the human race.  He knew that he could have just been imagining it, yet he was sure that he was reading them correctly.  Maybe they could be talked into convincing McGreevy to keep her speeches down to thirty minutes only.  He wouldn’t have bet against half the crowd needing the toilet.

There was a cough from the chair behind Professor Cavendish and Jason hid a smile that threatened to turn into a yawn.  The Professor had brought along a young intern from the Witnesses called Vanessa Dawlish and
she
was clearly just as bored as himself and the aliens.  Jason suspected that the Professor was studying something other than alien science with her – biology, perhaps – but in the end it hardly mattered.  The Professor was the kind of tutor he’d loathed when he had been at College, a person more interested in his politics and grading classes by ideology, rather than concentrating on actual
learning
.  He allowed himself to wonder if he might win Vanessa away from her tutor.  Imagining sleeping with her was more entertaining than listening to a thoroughly boring politician. 

“And with that in hand,” McGreevy finished, “I call upon the Discoverer, the person who made First Contact, to cut the ribbon and open the building.”

Jason stood up.  They’d had four rehearsals before they’d invited the press and he could do it in his sleep.  The cameras clicked loudly as he stepped towards the red ribbon, picked up a pair of silver scissors and snipped through the tape.  There was a loud cheer from the crowd as it fell back, allowing anyone who pleased to enter the building.  The Welcome Foundation had decided that one of the buildings would be always open to be public, allowing them to study the history of SETI on one side and drink in the promises made by the Federation in the other.

“Thank you,” the Secretary of State said.  “And now we will proceed to the lunch.”

It was several hours later before Jason managed to get into his new office and sit down.  The Welcome Foundation might be paying him, but they didn't seem to want him to actually
do
anything apart from exploiting his status to promote the Foundation to anyone who cared enough to listen.  Jason didn’t feel special at all; the Discovery had been nothing more than a massive stroke of luck.  He wasn't cut out to be a celebrity, rubbing shoulders with world leaders and the most eminent scientists on Earth.  On the other hand, there would be more access to the aliens.  Perhaps he could actually convince them to tell him more about their society, or their world.  The chance to walk on an alien planet was something he wouldn't pass up for anything.

There was a cough at the door.  Jason looked up guiltily, meeting the eyes of one of the CIA agents he’d met in the weeks since the Discovery.  Like pretty much everyone who had contact with the aliens, he’d been debriefed extensively after each meeting by a mixed committee of representatives.  The ones who had bothered to introduce themselves were from the CIA, the FBI and the DIA.  He had no idea which particular agency employed the others.  They were literally nothing, but silent listeners.

“I wasn't sleeping,” he said, not entirely truthfully.  He’d been on the verge of dozing off.  The agent, who was a brown-haired young woman who was remarkably intelligent, grinned at him.  “What can I do for you?”

“There’s a meeting in a nearby building,” she said.  She’d introduced herself as Daisy, but Jason wouldn't have put money on it being her real name.  “I think you might be interested in attending.”

Jason shrugged and stood up, retrieving his coat and donning it in one quick motion.  One thing that
had
been made clear to him was that failing to cooperate with the intelligence agencies would carry very heavy penalties.  Jason wasn't sure what they could do to the man who had discovered intelligent life in the universe – apart from humanity, of course – but he didn't want to find out the hard way.  Surprisingly, Daisy led him down the back staircase to avoid the crowds and into an unmarked car waiting for them at the rear entrance.  Jason frowned as the car headed through official Washington, the driver taking every short cut he could find, before it pulled up outside a regular office block.  They were a long way from Langley.

“Come on in,” Daisy said.  “I think you’re expected.”

The interior of the building was unremarkable, a simple suite of apartments housing smaller corporate offices in Washington.  Jason noted that the security guard looked bored, as if he wasn't paying any attention to what was going on about him, but there was armour plating on the walls and cameras everywhere.  Security was a premium in Washington, yet it seemed a little excessive.  But if the CIA had a presence in the building, or
owned
the whole building, they would want security.  Daisy confiscated his cell phone, MP3 player and his watch, checking that he wasn't carrying anything electronic with him.  He was mildly surprised that they hadn't insisted on a strip search before they entered the elevator and it took them down into a basement.  Daisy held up a hand when it reached its destination and motioned for Jason to go ahead of her.

“I’ll be staying here,” she said.  “Good luck.”

The elevator doors closed behind her before Jason could ask any questions.  Puzzled, he stared around, looking for someone – anyone.  A person was sitting in one armchair in a corner of a medium-sized room, waiting for someone.  He stood up, revealing a brown-haired man with a shock of uncontrollable hair.  Before Jason could say anything, he tapped his lips and beckoned Jason through a door and into a smaller meeting room.  The door hissed closed behind them.

“I’m sorry about the cloak and dagger routine,” the man said.  “Please allow me to extend my congratulations on your new role in the Welcome Foundation.”

There was something in his voice Jason didn't like at all.  “Thank you, sir,” he said, stiffly.  He still hadn't sat down.  “Might I ask what this is all about?”

The man leaned forward.  “Do you know where you are?” 

Jason shook his head.  “No sir,” he said, “and I don't know who you are, either.”

“Nor should you,” the man said.  He shrugged, expressively.  “My name is Sanderson and I have tried hard to stay out of the public eye.  I trust I can rely on your discretion?”  He inclined one eyebrow at Jason, who nodded shortly.  “You may be interested to know that this building is designed to serve as a secure facility for various intelligence services.  Among other things, the basement is surrounded by devices intended to ensure that any surveillance devices carried into the building are unable to record or transmit while inside the premises.”

Something clicked in Jason’s mind.  “That’s why Daisy took my cell phone,” he said.  “You were afraid I was going to record our conversation.”

“Not you,” Sanderson said.  He leaned forward, intently.  “I’ve been reading your debrief records from your sessions following your meetings with alien representatives.  In all of them, you express frustration at their reluctance to share information – even information that has no military value.  You’ve even implied that they’re not being completely honest with us.  Would you care to comment on that?”

Jason frowned.  He’d come utterly unprepared to the meeting, but he’d never said anything that he no longer believed.  Besides, it was a chance to express his concerns to someone who clearly possessed some form of political power.

“They seem reluctant to talk about anything,” he said.  “Every single person who meets one of the aliens has asked where they come from, which star gave them birth.  And they refuse to answer, or they give us a vague answer that could point to any one of a million stars.  They won’t tell us about their technology, even the technology they want to introduce into our society.  We’re going to have to buy the fusion reactors off them to power our cities unless we figure out how they work.  And if there are other races in the Galactic Federation, where are they?  We don't know.”

Sanderson frowned.  “What do you think about them?”  He asked.  “You’ve met more aliens than anyone else, I believe.  What do you make of them?”

Jason hesitated, struggling to put his thoughts into words.  “They look down on us,” he said, finally.  “When I talk about SETI to them, they seem to view it as amusing, like a child playing with toys.  They think we’re stupid for not advancing into space; they think we’re stupid for fighting wars all the time.  And yet...there’s something just a little disturbing about it.  I don't think they think very highly of us.”

He shook his head.  “But they don’t tell us anything about themselves,” he added.  “We don't know how they organise themselves, or how their government works.  We don't know if we’re talking to big shots who can organise things to suit themselves or relatively minor officials.  We don't know how many of them there are on Earth, or what they’re doing crawling all over our planet.  And none of us, not a single one, has been allowed to visit any of their starships.  We haven’t even been allowed to ride in their shuttles.”

“I see,” Sanderson said.  “Can you keep a secret?”

Jason nodded.  “Sure,” he said.  “What kind of secret?”

“One that could get you killed,” Sanderson said.  His eyes met Jason’s and refused to look away.  “Understand this; whatever you decide, if you breathe a word of it to anyone, it could get you killed.  It
will
get you killed.  This is not the time to decide that information wants to be free or some other dumb belief like that, kid.  This is the real world.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Jason said.  He swallowed, hard.  “Do you want me to spy on the aliens?”

Sanderson’s eyes met his, again.  “Among the other remarkable tricks built into this building,” he said, slowly, “is a security suite that is supposed to allow us to detect alien bugs.  They’ve been stinging hundreds of people with tiny bugs, too tiny to see.  You may be carrying one now, but if so...it’s not transmitting.  They’ve been spying on us before they made First Contact.  We don't think they come in peace.

“You may see something that can help us,” he added.  “You’re going to be spending more time with the Snakes than almost anyone else in the future.  Part of the reason we pulled strings to help you get your position was that you were willing to cooperate with the CIA’s debriefing team.  We need you to serve your country by monitoring the Snakes for us.”

Jason stared at him, thinking fast.  It seemed impossible to believe, yet...all of the alien words, all of their evasions and their reluctance to discuss anything of a serious nature with humanity’s scientists, pointed to one conclusion.  The Snakes didn't come in peace.  And that meant that humanity was staring down the barrels of an alien invasion.