Alien Home

by Mark Zubro

  Minutes after he finished his preliminary observations, he saw Joe being led in from another entrance. Guards formed a ten-man-deep phalanx around both of them.

  Mike was led to a spot in the gallery closest to the chairs. The guards stood around him but did not block his view. He saw communicators out and ready in everyone’s hands.

  More guards in red tunics marched in.

  Kenton said, “They are sweeping the entire area. There’s the possibility of sabotage. This chamber has been specially prepared all this week for this meeting. No one would dare try open war to capture you. No one wants to risk a direct physical assault that could kill you or the attackers or both. With the whole situation in flux, no one knows what to do. It’s a paralysis which is about the only thing working in your favor.”

  Joe and his guards made their way toward them. Joe smiled as he neared Mike. When they met, Joe and Mike embraced and kissed. Mike heard several guards draw in sharp breaths. He glanced around at those surrounding him. He turned his back. Joe said, “We shall sit together and watch the greatest and richest powers in the galaxy decide our fate, or we could neck madly in front of these spectators.”

  Kenton lost some of his aplomb. “You wouldn’t?”

  “I’d like to try,” Mike said, “but I think I’d rather pay attention for at least a little while. It’s not often I get to see my fate debated and voted on.”

  They sat down. While they didn’t neck, they did hold hands. Mike felt Joe’s warmth and closeness as a comfort. His lover’s presence gave him what little reassurance he could feel in this overwhelming room at this overwhelming moment.

  After another half hour of scanning the room with communicators, men and women started filling the seats below them. Murmurs began. The seats in the upper gallery of the arena remained completely empty.

  Below him, Mike saw a vast array of colored tunics. As the space began to fill, he also saw that some colors began to predominate. The tangerine, beige, and blue colors from the week before seemed to be the most numerous. The beige seemed to dominate the center of the room, the tangerine the outer portions. He saw a lot of the purple of the military people mixed throughout the crowd. One time he caught Bex looking at him. Bex sat very near the center.

  A loud murmur arose as three men dressed in flat black entered the hall.

  “Who are they?” Mike asked.

  Joe said, “The three richest men from the Sky Pirates of Msssk.”

  “They can just show up here?” Mike asked.

  Joe said, “They don’t come often, but the council chamber is inviolate. Every one of those people below may hate each other. They may fight and plot against each other, but the bottom line is cash and keeping it and making more of it. They’ve got to be able to talk. Mortal enemies they may be, but here all quarrels are put aside.”

  Soon after entering the room, each of the delegates in turn looked up to where Mike, Joe, and Kenton sat. Mike felt himself the object of more scrutiny than he ever cared to imagine. He pictured the only people who might feel more conspicuous as the starting quarterback for the Chicago Bears appearing in full drag to play a game or a drag queen at a religious right convention.

  “Who’s on our side?” Mike asked.

  Kenton said, “If you are going to live, my guess is that the ones in beige are going to have to triumph. They are from the most settled star systems. They represent what you would call ‘old money.’ Many of their families have been members of the Senate for centuries.”

  “They don’t seem to be in the majority,” Mike observed.

  “No one in the Senate has a majority. There are far too many factions for there to be one central controlling party. We prefer it that way. The lack of a majority leads to the need for compromise.”

  “Or governmental paralysis.”

  “Successful governing is a matter of shifting alliances and compromises.”

  Mike said, “I don’t see any Klingons or Ferengi.”

  Joe laughed.

  “Who?” Kenton asked.

  “Nobody you’d know.”

  There was a stir on the side farthest from them. Three men in white entered. Mike recognized Mulk. Pacing slowly and with great dignity, Mulk advanced to the center chair. The two men who entered with him took the tenth and eleventh seats from the center. Mike saw a man in black in the fourth seat. Bex sat in the second chair. All the others in the first fifteen chairs wore beige. Kas sat in the fifth chair at the farthest end from the center. Mike wondered how bad it would be to be the nine hundred ninety-fifth richest man in their part of the galaxy. He doubted Kas suffered much because of it. He saw that Kas still wore the starburst. He saw at least half a dozen others with the same decoration. He recognized a number of the people from the meeting of the High Council.

  “What do those starburst decorations mean?” Mike asked.

  Joe said, “You get to wear one of those if you are the highest in your profession. All these people may be rich, but the professions still have some honor.”

  Kenton added, “You saw Kas’s when you first met him. He was not bragging about being the best scientist. Kas is very young to be the best in his profession. Because you are at the top of your profession does not mean you are rich although the two often do go together. Money is the controller. If you happen to be good at your profession, that is important but secondary to being a member of the Senate.”

  Mike said, “I see a woman in yellow with a starburst. What is she?”

  “Yellow means she is an artist although I don’t know what kind of artist.”

  “Different colors signify different professions?” Mike asked.

  “Not necessarily,” Joe said, “just over time it has become customary for some long-standing professions to adopt a certain color. It usually means a political affiliation, although there are some here who claim to eschew politics.”

  Mulk rang a small chime once. Conversation drifted to a small murmur then died away. Mulk spoke into the silence. “Our purpose is twofold. One is to deal with an alien threat to us. The second is to decide the fate of one of our own who broke the laws against alien tampering. The decision is to be made by this body before we adjourn. Whatever is done with the Earthling will have vast consequences. Wherever he winds up, that will be the focus of a new power base. It will very possibly mean vast riches and perhaps control of this very Senate. His knowledge of weaponry created by Vov is unmatched. We must know our will, and we must decide. You have all received full reports on what has happened: our inability to enter his mind and control it, the nature of weapons Vov created or at least our understanding of them so far, plus the risks that we face from that lack of knowledge, and a full report on the opinions of scientists and humanitarians. We shall speak, as always, from first to last.”

  “What’s that mean?” Mike asked. The three of them in these seats apart spoke in whispers.

  Joe pointed toward Mulk. “The richest guy always starts it off. Then whoever’s next richest, if they want to speak, does so.”

  “What if they never want to shut up?” Mike asked.

  “They always want to shut up,” Joe said. “The longer they stay here, the less money they are making. Although I suspect a lot of them are going to want to pipe up today.”

  “Why is the gallery empty?”

  “No witnesses to power,” Joe said. “The gallery is there for state occasions of great formality, or when they want to pack the place and overawe someone or some group. On days when the Senate does not meet, tourists are let in. It costs a fortune to take a tour of this place, but I hear they’re sold out years in advance.”

  Bex rose to speak. He waited until the silence around him was complete. Then he raised a hand and thrust it toward where Mike was sitting. “There is the enemy. There is the threat. There is the one who must die.”

  Mike half expected the attack. He wasn’t disappointed. The red beam of laser-like light shot toward him from the communicator Bex held in his hand. Mike made no move.
His blue aura arose and countered the assault.

  Pandemonium broke out in the hall. Many of the senators leapt to their feet. Some shouted, others waved their fists, a few pounded on their chairs, a couple stamped their feet.

  The guards made no move to protect or attack Mike, who didn’t move. He decided to let the confidence in his power speak for itself. In the midst of the pandemonium he leaned over to Joe, “Do these implant and communicator things ever run out of power?”

  “Not as long you keep breathing.”

  “I intend to continue doing so.”

  Joe smiled. “I like the idea of you being the most powerful person in the room.”

  “It does have a certain cachet, doesn’t it?”

  For five minutes the hall continued to be filled with shouts of outrage, demands for order, and calls for Bex to be removed.

  With infinite care Mulk rose from his chair. The rest of the delegates began to resume their seats. Mulk’s eyes swept the room. When the silence was complete, he said, “Violence in the hall is forbidden.” He resumed his seat.

  Bex rose again. “I do not apologize for my actions. You see the threat he is to us. I cannot overemphasize the danger.” He held his communicator aloft. “This is the most powerful weapon in our arsenal outside of a starship cruiser. He has defeated it. You saw it.”

  “Are we safe right now?” called a delegate.

  “He can be neutralized,” Bex said, “but he cannot be stopped or killed. His knowledge cannot be taken from him without his death. Is there any way we can trust his cooperation? I say, ‘No.’ We are here to insure our safety. Trust comes when we feel safe. I don’t. The military does not. As long as he exists, he is a grave danger to the billions we represent.”

  Several beige robed figures rose.

  “I thought he got to keep talking,” Mike said.

  “He can talk but anyone can ask questions at any time,” Joe said.

  “How does anything ever get done?” Mike asked.

  “Pure and simple greed,” Kenton said, “and the desire to leave and make money.”

  “I’d hate to have my safety rely upon the feelings of greed being strong enough in any world, alien or not, to have those in the discussion come to a rational decision.”

  “Hush,” Kenton told him.

  Crua, the beige robed figured nearest Bex and who had been at the hearing a week earlier, said, “We see your demonstration. He has power. I know you are aware of the laws against killing an alien from an undeveloped star system. You propose to do violence here, in this sacred chamber. Why then do we have laws? Are you not ashamed? And if not, why aren’t you?”

  “I knew the attack would fail.”

  “Your demonstration was for show? To gain you votes? To frighten us as children who cannot understand an explanation? We all know the meaning of danger.”

  Bex countered. “He is not of our star system. He may not know our rules, but his complicity in the crime is complete.”

  “Which does not answer to the point I was making. Why haven’t we asked the Earthling for his help? Why is there a rush to do anything? The threat is not immediate, or we would all be dead. If he were an immediate threat, then those who wanted this meeting could be accused of endangering the state. He sits in our midst. Are you saying we all risked our lives to come here today?”

  “No,” Bex replied.

  Before Bex could add more, Crua asked, “What possible good can the Earthling’s knowledge do him now? He’s not going to be able to make war on us all by himself.”

  “And if others like him begin coming?” Bex asked.

  “The reports say Earth is nowhere near having the ability for interstellar travel. These are reports from your defense department. Are they wrong?”

  “No.”

  “So do not frighten us with the threat of an alien invasion.”

  Bex said, “I am not here to instill fear, although acting out of fear can sometimes be necessary.”

  A youthful looking man in beige rose. Of all the people wearing that color, he sat nearest Crua, so Mike assumed he was the second wealthiest of that group. “Who’s he?” Mike asked.

  “Xam, leader of the old families.”

  Mike said, “He doesn’t look like he’s much older than a kid.”

  “I didn’t say he was the oldest. He’s the leader. Thirty-seven generations of his family have sat in this chamber. He inherited more money than most, but he has also accumulated vast wealth in his short life. Crua, as you can tell by the seating, is richest of their faction, but Xam is the leader. She’s sort of like the queen, and he’d be like a prime minister. Young or old he would not be near the nexus of power if he was not very, very rich. What he says will have great influence on all the beige members.”

  Xam swung his arm indicating those in the assemblage. “We are an advanced civilization. Dramatic gestures on Bex’s part do not impress me. Shouldn’t you save them for the masses and not bother us with them? We know who has the power here. We know how decisions are made. Do you think this one human from Earth could change who we are and what we are? Is our culture so fragile, our lives so precarious, that one Earthling can throw us into a state of panic? I would hope not, because if that is all it takes, we need to lay claim no more to being one of the powers of the universe. I’m wondering if the Earthling doesn’t represent more of a threat to your ego than he does to the rest of us.”

  The closest to the center tangerine-robed person stood up. Mike saw that it was a tall, slender woman.

  Kenton whispered, “Cark, leader of a faction most hostile to you. They represent mostly new wealth and what you would call fundamental religious beliefs.”

  Cark did the dramatic point thing the same as Bex. No laser attack ensued, but the words she spoke were loud, shrill, and harsh. “Whose fault is it that this spawn of Vov is here?”

  Mulk said, “You have seen the reports on the Earthling’s capture.”

  Cark said, “My question is about Vov. How did he escape? Why was not the extent of his danger to our well-being made known to us? How much did enemies of the state have to do with his escape? Is the state trying to keep secrets even now? How do we know we have the whole truth? Is this personal assault by Bex going to make us feel better?” Her voice dripped with scorn as she continued. “Is this thing’s deflecting of an assault from Bex supposed to prove a point? If so, what point?” She prattled on.

  Mike paid close attention to every syllable of her lengthy harangue. It seemed to be mostly questions. At one point he leaned over to Joe, “She asks almost as many questions as I did.”

  Joe smiled. “No one could ask that many.”

  “Good to know I’ve set an intergalactic standard. Can they just make personal attacks on each other like Xam did?”

  Kenton said, “You can say anything you wish in this chamber. That you say it doesn’t mean it won’t have consequences. It’s just that you cannot be punished here for saying it.”

  Xam interrupted Cark’s flow of questions. “Did you want answers to any of those questions, or are you posing for a statue or trying to win a prize?”

  “I will not be mocked.”

  “Piffle,” Xam said. “I will say what I please. Some of your questions are fairly reasonable. Why drown the relevant in all that verbiage?”

  “You do not get to judge what is good or not,” Cark said.

  “Sure I do. We all do. You don’t get to tell us what to do. I don’t get to tell you what to do, but I get to comment and ask questions.”

  Mike whispered to Joe. “Who does tell someone what to do? If these guys are so all-fired rich, what if one of them simply doesn’t want to do what the others say? They’ve got all the money they need.”

  “It’s a social contract,” Joe said. “I think Kenton could explain it better.”

  Kenton nodded. “It is the way our society works. No one has great wealth in a vacuum. Vast economies are vastly interdependent. You cannot simply take your toys and go home. What
you do and say does affect other people.”

  The debate droned on. As far as Mike could see there were three essential factions. The beige ones were for some kind of compromise being worked out with him. Bex and his people plus those in the tangerine crowd pretty much wanted him and Joe dead. The third was kind of an amorphous group who kept asking things such as: are you sure you’ve done all the tests, are you sure we can’t control him, what was Vov working on, shouldn’t we know what Vov was working on, are the reports complete, aren’t there more test that could be done?

  Mike understood the nature of those questions, and he felt sure that people were entitled to those answers. He just suspected people already had the information and knew the answers, but this faction was too stupid or stubborn or frightened to figure it out.