Invasion

by Christopher Nuttall

  ***

  “The shit’s about to hit the fan,” Deborah Ivey said, cheerfully, as she swept into the Oval Office. “We’ve had calls from a dozen major media outlets and other such bastards demanding to know just what the fuck is going on. I think we’re going to have to come clean about the aliens, chief.”

  The President eyed her balefully. Deborah’s ability to swear like a drunken trooper never creased to irritate him. Days spent arguing with various world leaders about disclosure, let alone a united front to confront the aliens, hadn’t done anything for his mood. The Europeans and the Japanese wanted to move to informing the public, while the Chinese and the Russians wanted to keep it to themselves, for the moment. The NSA had informed the President, covertly, that the Chinese in particular were working overtime to block out the news, even to the point of restricting the Internet use rights of foreign-owned companies. He was morbidly certain that the Chinese, and probably everyone else as well, were already trying to communicate with the aliens.

  “I see,” he said, finally. Deborah’s intelligence was both an asset and a curse. “How much do they know?”

  “They’re pretty much figured out that we’ve calling a covert mobilisation…and that most of the other world governments are doing the same,” Deborah informed him. “No one has actually dropped the A-word yet, but ten gets you twenty that the thought has crossed their minds…and they might even be considering using it in public.”

  The President smiled thinly. “How long do you think we have?”

  “A day, at most, before it leaks out,” Deborah said. “It’s probably going to leak out from Europe – their security is pretty much crap – but as we brief more and more of our own people, we increase the likelihood of a leak from our side as well. If one of the national governments goes public…”

  The President nodded. “Contact the Press Office, then,” he said. “Tell them that I want to reserve a slot on all of the national networks – normal conditions – for this evening. Get in touch with the various Governors and tell them that we’re going public, so they have to put their people on alert for any panic, and then tell Tom that he is to inform the other governments…”

  Deborah frowned. “You really think that there’ll be a panic?”

  “I don’t know,” the President said. “Young James couldn’t give me any real production, but as far as I am concerned? We’re in uncertain – uncharted – waters…and God alone knows what’s going to happen when we drop this little bombshell on the world.”

  Chapter Three

  If a space-faring species with faster than light travel wants to take Earth they are probably going to succeed. Once a species "owns" the gravity well, there's not much you can do about it.

  -John Ringo

  “The President and Governor Rollins appealed for calm in the wake of a further set of panic-buying riots and further chaos in the streets of New York,” the talking head said, speaking from a television set into the room. She would have been pretty under more natural lighting. “This has had no apparent effect on the rioters and the NYPD has warned that it might be necessary to call out the National Guard for additional crowd control.”

  There was a long pause. “The riots are, of course, in the wake of the President’s announcement, subsequently confirmed by the foremost observatories, of an alien starship heading towards Earth,” she continued, just in case someone had just joined the program. “A wave of panic-buying has swept America, with food, drink and guns being purchased right across the country. Senator Hanks, in response to the crisis, has criticized the President’s decision to inform the country of the alien ship and has demanded that the President face a special session of the Senate to explain his actions. In the meantime, marchers demanding a peaceful meeting with the aliens clashed with marchers demanding military preparations and had to be separated with water cannons…”

  Paul picked up the remote control and silenced the television before the talking head – he couldn’t even remember her name – could offer any further inanities on the Meaning Of It All. America – hell, the entire world – seemed to have gone crazy in the wake of the announcement; people were, as the talking head had said, were panicking and rioting. Millions of citizens had fled the cities for the countryside, while millions more intended to remain where they were to greet the aliens personally…and the rest of the world wasn’t much better. The Arab states had attempted to conceal the presence of the alien craft from their people, but the rest of the world knew…and, thanks to the Internet, so did most of the Arabs. Censorship was much harder these days; the Russians and the Chinese had sealed their borders and were mobilising, just in case. The President had been talking to them, trying to get some kind of common agreement on dealing with the aliens, but they were both playing their cards very close to their chests.

  He scowled and returned to the reports on his desk. The President’s decision to appoint him defence coordinator for the United States, in the event of an alien invasion, had been an inspired one, in his opinion. If he’d had an unlimited budget and a few years, he could have ensured the entire world’s safety against the alien starship, all one hundred kilometres of it. He had barely two weeks left before the alien craft reached Earth orbit and, in that time, he knew that there wasn’t going to be any new technology for deployment. America – and the rest of the world – had to work with what was on the shelf, and he knew, better than anyone else, that the cupboard was almost bare. It was ironic; he was, in effect, a General…with hardly any forces under his command.

  The deployment of THAAD missiles, including the latest configuration designed for satellite interception – as well as a limited BMD role – was proceeding apace. Unfortunately, the United States had agreed to a cap in the number of viable ASAT missiles after China had deployed a working ASAT system of its own, and while production had been intensified, he knew that there weren’t going to be more than a few hundred missiles at most by the time the aliens arrived. Patriot missile batteries and Air Defence Artillery had been deployed around the country, linked into a ground-based communications system that would allow their efforts to be coordinated even if the satellites were lost, but again…he wasn't convinced of their effectiveness. He’d attempted to get the shuttles rigged up as gunships, but only one shuttle was available and that craft had already been assigned to a role, ferrying the diplomats to the ISS. He hadn’t even tried to have the ISS armed; the consortium operating the station would never have agreed to have it armed to the teeth.

  On the ground, matters were a little better, despite the chaos. The Army had been called up and had been deployed around the country, while air assets had been dispersed to avoid a single lucky hit taking out entire squadrons of fighters. The National Guards and the Reserves had been called up as well – if nothing else, it was a fascinating exercise – and deployed in defensive positions, but he had his doubts as to how useful the entire exercise would be. The rest of the world was doing the same – he’d read a report that warned that the bulk of the French Army had been deployed near Paris, in case the aliens landed there – but he suspected that it was just whistling in the wind. They’d prepared, as best as they could, for the worst case scenario…and he couldn’t help feeling that that was exactly what would happen.

  ***

  “Mr President, Ambassador Prachthauser is here to see you.”

  “Thank you, Irene,” the President said. He’d spent the morning, as he had almost every day since the alien starship had been detected, in conference with different world leaders and almost welcomed the interruption. The larger countries tended to be carefully choosing their options, but the smaller countries – and the UN – were publicly buying into all kinds of tales of alien benevolence, acting as if the new millennium was about to begin. The UN debates on the alien starship had gotten nowhere fast, but the President knew that many of the smaller countries had no reason to view the alien arrival with caution. “Please send him in.”

  Ambassador Francis Pr
achthauser was a tall dignified man, barely entering his forties, with dark hair that somehow gave an expression of length. He had a very empathic face; the President had known him during his election campaign and had been impressed by how well he’d handled people who might have been a problem. He’d offered Francis the post of Ambassador to the Court of King James – Britain – as a gesture of thanks…and a highly practical measure. It was the most significant Embassy in the world, outside Russia and China.

  “Mr President,” Francis said, with a half-bow. “That was a very…entertaining flight.”

  The President smiled. He’d given orders for Francis to be picked up by an F-15 aircraft from one of the bases in Britain. Speed was of the essence now that there was a working consensus, between the larger powers, on how to proceed. It wasn’t as if the remainder of the world could prevent America, Russia, Europe and China from proceeding, but the whole affair could leave a bad taste in their mouths.

  “I hope that you enjoyed it,” he said, settling back into his chair and waving Francis to one of the smaller chairs. “Do you know what this is about?”

  “The aliens,” Francis said, proving again that he wasn't a fool. Even the President wouldn’t order a fast-jet fighter aircraft used as a transport, even for an Ambassador, unless it was urgent. “I assume that you have some role in mind for me regarding the aliens?”

  The President nodded. “How would you like to go up to Earth orbit and meet them?”

  Francis stared at him. Deep inside, where no one could see, there had once been dreams of flying into space. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes,” the President said, flatly. He stood up and started to pace the office. “The alien starship will probably, at least in the belief of my expert advisors…”

  “As far as we have expert advisors on this sort of thing,” Francis injected.

  The President acknowledged his contribution with a nod. “The aliens, we think, will attempt to dock at the International Space Station,” he said. It was more likely to be the other way around – the alien starship was far larger than the ISS – but that hardly mattered. “It represents, so I’m told, an easily-accessible group of humans, just waiting for them to come and visit. They could be sure, if they docked with the ISS, of meeting representatives from the great powers on Earth. It has been designed that a group of Ambassadors will be placed onboard the station and, hopefully, that they will meet with the aliens.”

  He paused. “Would you like to be the American representative onboard the station?”

  Francis laughed. “Do you even have to ask?”

  “No,” the President said. They shared a long smile. “I won’t lie to you, Francis; I could be sending you to your death. We don’t know what the aliens actually want and, if they’re hostile, the ISS is pretty much a sitting duck. Still want to go?”

  Francis frowned. “The aliens have not responded to any of our messages?”

  The President shook his head. Ever since the alien starship had become public knowledge, there had been attempts to signal the craft, a torrent of radio signals pouring out from Earth, some not even pointed in the right direction. No one could agree on what to say to them, however, and the aliens, if they were listening, had to be very confused. There had been sober and mature transmissions, invitations to land at one location or another…and hundreds of messages offering everything from marriage to abduction victims. The aliens had to be really confused…but there had been no reply to any of the messages.

  “Not as far as we know,” the President said. “The most sensitive communications gear we have, items so classified that I’m barely allowed to know more than their existence, has been deployed to cover the alien craft…but if they’re transmitting, they’re doing it without us being able to pick it up. Some of my advisors are worried that they’re actually in communications with the Russians, or the Chinese, but if they are, they’re doing it without us hearing anything.”

  “Occam’s Razor,” Francis said. “The simplest explanation is normally the correct one – and it’s that they’re not transmitting anything to Earth. If we can’t detect any transmissions, the Russians are unlikely to be able to detect them themselves.”

  “I know,” the President said, wishing that he could somehow convoy the gut-wrenching feeling that the lack of communications was causing. A hundred kilometres of alien starship was racing towards Earth…and no one knew what they wanted. Colonel James had been right, he decided; there was something ominous in the lack of communication, let alone their attempt to limit Earth’s warning time. The decision to start dispersing the federal government had been easy once he’d realised just how ominous it was. “Still want to go?”

  “Yes, Mr President,” Francis said. “Someone has to be up there to meet them, so…why not me?”

  “Why not indeed,” the President said. He smiled thinly and took his seat again. “You’re going to be up there with four other representatives; a Russian, a Chinese, a European and a UN representative. The UN expects their representative to take the lead, but the great powers have agreed that it will be them in the lead, not least because we paid for the ISS and the space program. The European has instructions from the European Union, but he may have orders from his own government as well…”

  Francis rolled his eyes. That always seemed to happen. For everyone devoted to the international organisation that they worked for, in theory, there were ten who were actually following the orders of their own countries, regardless of how well – or badly – they interacted with the remainder of the world. The only country that seemed to actually respect the concept of international organisations was the Swiss, and they’d been safe for hundreds of years.

  “Your instructions are simple enough,” the President added. “Ideally, we want an exclusive agreement with the aliens, but that’s not likely to happen. More practically, we want to ensure that we have a share in whatever dealings happen with the aliens and that we don’t get frozen out, or that the Europeans don’t get frozen out. We can rely on them to support us against Russia or China, but the UN representative is a wild card. She might have ambitions of placing the entire issue before the UN.”

  Francis frowned. “Should we not be working towards a united front?”

  “It depends on what the aliens have in mind for us,” the President admitted. “We have a series of agreements with the other great powers that if the aliens are hostile, we will fight them together, but if they’re not hostile, they could play divide and rule very easily. The orders I gave you…well, the other Ambassadors are likely to be following similar orders, and the crew of the ISS…well, they’ll have similar orders themselves. They might be more pro-American than their fellow countrymen, those who aren’t American, but…”

  “The stakes are high,” Francis agreed.

  “Too high,” the President said. “The entire country seems to have gone crazy, but hopefully it will have calmed down by the time the aliens enter orbit and actually make contact.”

  “Let’s hope so,” Francis said, pessimistically. “What about our defences?”

  “I can’t really discuss those with you,” the President said. “No offence, but if the aliens capture you…”

  Francis nodded. “I understand,” he said. He smiled, a little nervously. “Thank you for this opportunity.”

  “Ambassador, perhaps, to the Galactic Empire,” the President said. “Thank me when you come back alive, Francis; I suspect that I haven’t done you any favours at all.”

  ***

  The daily briefing to the President was a chore that Paul disliked, not because the President was an unpleasant person, but because it took him away from continuing his work. There was little choice, however, and he had to admit that it was better that he briefed the President, rather than some REMF who wouldn’t know what was important and what wasn't. The thought was quietly ironic; he’d been in the American armed forces for sixteen years and he’d never fired a shot in anger. He’d never been deployed to Iraq or
Afghanistan, or any of the other places where American troops had been deployed.

  “NASA confirms that the space shuttle Discovery is currently going through its final flight checks before launch,” he said, once he’d updated the President on the ground-based preparations. “They’re stripped out the planned launch schedule – they intended to launch a trio of new communications satellites – and replaced it with a module for supporting additional crewmembers, so the Ambassadors won’t be too much of a burden on the ISS.”

  “Good,” the President said. The ISS normally had only six crewmembers and adding five representatives – and the shuttle crew - would have pushed life support to the limit. “And the defensive capability?”