“Foolish children,” the taxi driver snarled. A group of kids – they couldn't be more than fifteen years old – had run past the taxi, heading down to join the protest. They wore grey alien facemasks, the ones that had become the logo used by the Witnesses. It struck Jason as ironic – the legendary Gray aliens had never been friendly – but it did have worldwide recognition. “Don’t they know that people have to work to eat?”
“Probably not,” Jason agreed. He kept his other thoughts to himself. If he’d known that all that awaited him after he graduated was a hard scrabble to earn enough money to stay alive and in reasonable comfort, would he have worked so hard at college? It was easy to see why so many youngsters loved the ideal of the Galactic Federation; they knew nothing about it, apart from the fact it offered them hope. And hope was something that could warp and twist a person’s thoughts out of all recognition. “I don’t think we’ll get through in a hurry.”
He reached into his pocket and produced a handful of dollar bills. SETI had paid for his trip to Washington and they could afford the bill, particularly now that donations were going through the roof. Everyone wanted to claim that they’d had a hand in the Discovery, and First Contact, and if that meant pouring enough money on SETI to build an observatory on the moon, they’d do it. The taxi driver offered the change, but Jason told him to keep it and opened the door. The racket struck him full force the moment he stepped onto the street.
It was terrifying, almost like being caught up in a riot. As a student, Jason had gone to parties and matches where everyone had just been caught up in the music or game, but this was worse. Thousands upon thousands of people seemed to have formed a hive mind, the undertow of their emotions threatening to pull him into the mix. Their deafening shouts for Federation membership and an end to war seemed loud enough to shatter buildings. If any of them recognised Jason, they couldn't make themselves heard over the racket. Silently grateful, Jason hurried through the blocked streets to his destination. A handful of policemen guarding the streets looked as if they were going to block his way and then changed their minds. The entire street felt as if it was on a knife edge.
The chant changed, almost spontaneously. “No more nukes, no more nukes, no more nukes...”
Jason shook his head as the sound grew louder. His ears were starting to hurt, shivers of pain that threatened to generate a real headache. He started to move faster and then he burst into a run, although he wasn't sure what he was running from, or even where he was running to. His head started to spin, seconds before the sound finally – mercifully – started to fade. The numbers of policemen blocking streets was rising rapidly, almost as if they were trying to contain the protests. It felt as if they were on the verge of a riot.
High overhead, a line of helicopters roared over the city. Jason found himself wondering where they were going – and why. The White House wasn't too far from the protesters; the radio had said that the protesters intended to march down to the White House and present their demands to the President in person. Somehow, Jason doubted that it would go well. He kept his legs moving, heading towards the meeting place. Time was running out.
***
SETI had turned into a lobbying organisation surprisingly quickly, which was part of the reason it had transferred its headquarters to Washington and even positioned many of the review sections – where Jason had worked before he'd become the Discoverer – in Washington. The easiest way to get funding from political leaders was to prove that the funding would help the politician’s chances of getting re-elected, and that meant pork – lots and lots of pork. SETI couldn't compete against the military-industrial complex when it came to building new factories in specific states, but it had had influence. And now it had a great deal more.
Jason sipped a cup of water gratefully as the meeting room slowly filled up. He shouldn't have been in the room at all – and wouldn't have been, if he had not been the Discoverer, the man who had become famous around the world. Crenshaw and the rest of SETI’s senior directors hadn't hesitated to take advantage of Jason’s fame, using him to attract funding to SETI and convince politicians to support SETI’s vision of the universe. And that fame came with a sting in the tail. If Jason went off-message – if he decided that the aliens weren't friendly – it would rock their little utopia. The money they’d received since the Discovery would be at risk.
He sat up sharply as a familiar scent intruded upon his nostrils. An alien had just entered the room, escorted by a pair of plainclothes officers from the Washington PD. Personally, Jason suspected that the officers were actually from the CIA, but there was no way to know for sure. The alien waved one hand at Jason – he’d learned that that was a loose greeting from a Snake – before sitting down on a weirdly-shaped stool. Jason had to take his eyes off the alien’s body as it moved and sat. It was so wrong to human eyes that he almost felt sick.
Fighting it down, he studied the alien carefully. It was still hard to tell them apart, but he was starting to realise that tiny indentions and colour patterns over their faces served to differentiate them from one another. There was still no way to separate the sexes; hell, no one even knew if the Snakes had two sexes. They could easily be functional hermaphrodites, with asexual bodies, or perhaps their females laid eggs which were then fertilised by the male. There was no way to know. One of the many subjects upon which the aliens refused to discourse was their own biology.
Jason frowned as the alien eyes turned to meet his. He had never considered himself a xenophobe – xenophobes never went into SETI – but there was something about the glowing red eyes that seemed to awaken old instincts long buried behind the veneer of civilisation. There were people in America who had trouble looking into the face of a black man; Jason understood, just now, what they must have felt. They could never have explained the feeling and perhaps concealed it, fearful of the dread accusation of racism.
“Thank you all for coming,” Crenshaw said. Jason looked up from the alien, surprised to see that the room had filled up without him noticing. Many of the faces were familiar from SETI, or political broadcasts, but a handful were strangers. He caught the eye of a Japanese woman of indeterminate age who winked at him when she noticed him staring. Feeling as if he didn't belong in the group, he sat up and tried to pay attention. “As you can tell, feelings are running high outside.”
Jason winced inwardly. The room was supposed to be soundproofed, but he could still hear the protesters as they thronged the streets of Washington. Their demands had blurred into a deep roar that was all the more chilling for being barely understandable. He wondered if someone had also leaked the fact that this meeting was being held; SETI had once needed all the publicity it could get.
Crenshaw nodded. “The Washington police tell us that we should be safe in here, but we do need to keep an eye on the situation,” he continued. “Without further ado - Jeannette McGreevy.”
Jason felt his mouth fall open as the Secretary of State stood up. She was shorter than he’d expected, somehow, which might have been why he hadn't recognised her. Even so, there was an air of bulldog determination in her face that suggested that anyone who got in her way was in for a very hard time. He hadn't seen anyone so determined since his mother had confronted his father over rumours that his father had been cheating on her. It wasn't a pleasant memory.
“I had a long speech with praise for the Discovery and the Discoverer,” McGreevy said, “but I’m afraid I will have to ask you all to take it as read.” She smiled at Jason, who found himself on the receiving end of an almost shark-like smile. “The Secret Service has taken the precaution of placing a helicopter ready for emergency evacuation, so I don't want to stress the poor dears. They work so hard to protect us from threats.”
There was an amused note in her voice that Jason didn't like at all. “It is my belief,” McGreevy continued, “that the Government will accept the terms offered by the Federation. After much intense negotiation, the Federation has agreed to bring forward the sc
hedule for integrating Galactic-level technology into humanity’s general technical base – in exchange for prompt acceptance of their terms. It will help cushion us from the inevitable economic earthquake when the full effects of the terms make themselves felt.”
Jason nodded, impatiently. Disposing of the world’s nuclear stockpiles might not cost the world anything – particularly if the Galactics could be convinced to fly them into space and push them towards the sun – but every other term would certainly have an economic effect on America, as well as the rest of the world. There were trillions of dollars tied up in the defence industry – everything from producing tanks to training and hiring out mercenaries – and all of those dollars would be at risk. Some production plants could probably be retooled to produce components for space-based industries instead, but others would have to be scrapped. The protesters outside demanding that the human race join the Federation might not be so enthusiastic when they realised that they’d lost all prospect of getting a job in the economic crunch.
“It is our belief that SETI – the organisation that detected the Federation’s presence – should be reconfigured as the Welcome Foundation,” she concluded. “The Welcome Foundation will have two goals; one, it will prepare the world for membership in the Federation and two, it will help cushion the economic problems by suggesting new uses for our industrial plant.”
There was a long pause. “Any questions?”
Jason hesitated, remembered that he was the Discoverer, and held up a hand. “Our general tech base is well behind the Federation’s,” he said. “Why do you expect industrial corporations to retool for space when they will be effortlessly outmatched by Federation products?”
McGreevy looked, just for a second, angry. Oddly, it was the alien who answered. “The Federation will ensure that your economic base has a chance to adapt to the new situation by levelling protective tariffs on Federation technology entering your system,” he said. “There will be a number of incentives provided for shared development, but such incentives will depend upon Federation corporations working with their human counterparts.”
“That will be one of the roles of the Welcome Foundation,” McGreevy said. “I trust that this is acceptable to you all?”
Jason was unsurprised to see Crenshaw and the others agree at once. They’d wanted to be important and now they were. And his global fame would help them. Everything McGreevy had said had made sense, and yet...somehow, Jason was worried. Something didn't quite add up.
***
“So why did you come here today?”
“Because the government, like, will cover it all up if we let them,” the young girl said. Jayne had her doubts that she was old enough to escape being branded jailbait. She was blonde, with a tight top showing off everything she had, carrying a sign that read NO NUKES NOW! “They cannot be trusted; we must, like, like them know what we feel.”
Jayne sighed inwardly. The BAN had sent several reporters to the protests and she'd volunteered to be one of them, although her true interests were different. A few hours of data mining had revealed that the protest networks were being funded by a wide range of different interests, all working together to ensure that the protests were as loud and noticeable as possible. The latest update from the Washington PD suggested that there were nearly a million protesters in Washington. It certainly looked that way.
“But who told you to come?” She asked, as the girl blew a bubble of gum. “Why did you come here?”
“Because this is, like, Washington,” the girl said. “The filthy thieves in Congress wouldn't notice a protest in Podunk, USA. They don’t, like, pay any attention to anyone outside Washington who doesn't have a big bursting wallet. We got together and made up our minds to take a trip here and we’re going to camp out until they give us what we want.”
Jayne watched the girl move back into the protest and vanish into the crowd, shaking her head. It had always struck her that most protesters might have a valid case, but they didn't have the slightest idea of how to actually go about getting what they wanted. The American Government was far from perfect, yet it actually listened to the results of election campaigns. A protest movement that concentrated on selecting the right politicians would go further than one that merely consisted of shouting and screaming.
Another protester was in front of her before she could move away, almost demanding to be interviewed. “I must say that we find the government’s decision to sit on the alien terms abhorrent,” he said. Jayne tried to keep the disgust from her face. He smelled as if he hadn't washed for a week. His outfit, a torn tunic that looked as if it had once belonged to a janitor, was marked and stained by dark liquids. She didn't want to think about what they might be. “Don’t we have a right to know?”
He grinned, revealing gaps in his teeth. “But we’re going to make them pay for deceiving us,” he added. “We won’t let up until those bastards are removed from Washington and we have a federal government that actually cares about the little people. Do you hear me up there?”
Jayne managed to walk away while he was making rude signs to the helicopters high overhead. The entire tone of the demonstration was growing darker by the second, threatening to turn into a riot. She caught signs of hundreds of black-clad policemen in riot gear moving forward, only to be greeted with a hail of abuse and stones from protesters who had clearly come prepared for a riot. The policemen raised their shields to protect themselves, while bringing up reinforcements. Jayne, who had been arrested before during a protest that had turned violent, turned and headed back to safety as fast as possible. It hadn't been a very enjoyable afternoon.
Behind her, the noise of the riot grew louder. More and more police vans were racing towards the scene. She spared a thought for the innocents in the crowd and then kept walking. She'd see it all on CNN or FOX once she was back in the motel.
***
Later, after a shower and a quick meal, she logged on and checked the records. According to the mainstream media, the riots had begun when a group of anti-alien protesters had deliberately provoked their opponents into a battle. The police had been caught in the middle while trying to separate the two groups, making thousands of arrests before they’d been forced to pull back and let the rioters burn themselves out first. At least a hundred people were confirmed dead and thousands were injured.
She shook her head, bitterly. Someone was definitely manufacturing the news. She hadn't seen any anti-alien protesters deliberately sparking off a riot. Some of the bloggers were pointing that out, although she doubted that anyone would take them too seriously. One problem with witness statements was that the witness could believe they were telling the truth, but it would be only as they saw it. A hundred accounts of the same event could yield a hundred different versions from witnesses who only saw what had happened to or near then.
It hardly mattered, not now. The entire country would see anti-alien protesters as rioters – and anything they said would be ignored. The noose was tightening around the entire country...
Was there no one who could see it?
Chapter Fourteen
Washington DC
USA, Day 25
Toby followed the President into the conference room, watching as the Cabinet rose to greet their President. It was their second full meeting since First Contact and they’d been joined by the Majority Leader, Minority Leader and a handful of influential Senators and Congressmen. Personally, Toby would have been surprised if such a diverse group ever came to any conclusions, but most of them knew that their careers were at stake. The pro-alien lobby was growing rapidly – one of his allies had mentioned that someone behind the scenes was funding the protesters – and the political leaders were under immense pressure to deliver the goods. Normally, they could expect the fickle public to have forgotten about the issue by the time elections rolled around, but not this time. One way or another, the public would never forget.
“Please be seated,” the President said. He stood at the end of the
table, his eyes travelling down the line of seated politicians. The Vice President, who was making a long-overdue visit to Japan, was linked in via videoconferencing technology, but everyone else was present in person. Toby knew that at least five of the politicians in the room had been tagged by alien surveillance bugs and that meant that the aliens would know everything that was said in the discussion. They’d know how best to target their resources to get what they wanted – whatever they wanted. “It is no exaggeration to state that whatever choices we make today will change the course of American history – of Earth’s history – for a thousand years.”
He pressed one hand against the table, a sign of nervousness. Politicians trained themselves to reveal as little as possible of their inner feelings – one never knew when a camera was trained on one, recording one’s reactions for posterity – but the President was at the end of his career. There were no higher positions to reach than President of the United States. After his departure, he would write his memoirs and go on the lecture circuit. He would never return to government life.
“You’ve all seen what the aliens are asking,” the President said. “They want us to sign up to a global government with transnational authority. They want us to discard – to disband – most of our military, including the nuclear warheads that have guaranteed peace and security for the past fifty years. And they want us to make the shift to a fusion-based economy as soon as possible. If we refuse to accept these terms, we will be frozen out of Earth’s upgrading process and find ourselves at a major disadvantage when it comes to competing with the rest of the world, let alone the Federation. The promised loans and technological upgrades will never materialise.
The Trojan Horse Page 13
