by Geoff Wolak
‘What is it?’ they both queried.
‘A body fell out of that damaged alien ship, and … it’s Seethan.’
Jimmy rushed off out, the press avoided, and had the body taken to PACT’s laboratory at Forward Base. There he found it on a slab, two dozen people in a room that would have been cosy with just eight. ‘Talk.’
‘Advanced spacesuit of some sort, a few gadgets built into it,’ a scientist reported. ‘All the gadgets are now off, or battery dead. There’s a date stamp on one of 2162.’
‘2162,’ Jimmy repeated. ‘A long way into their future.’
‘This is odd,’ a man said, staring at a computer screen. ‘Ice crystals in his blood, and cell damage consistent with being frozen.’
‘Seethans can be frozen for long distance space flight,’ Jimmy reported as he stared at the body. ‘So this poor fella wasn’t piloting a ship anytime lately.’
‘Could he have been in a stasis pod, hit by the helicopter?’ a man asked.
‘No time to thaw out,’ another man countermanded. ‘This guy’s been thawing for … hours or days. Tissue is all dead, no living cells anywhere.’
‘No living cells?’ Jimmy queried with a frown.
‘Nothing,’ the man reported. ‘He was dead before stasis, or stasis went wrong.’
‘This is odd, Mister Silo,’ a lady called. ‘Swab shows alcohol, as if a preserver, but Whiskey.’
‘Date that Whiskey for me,’ Jimmy insisted.
‘The chemical make-up suggests … 1950s.’
‘Could the body have been contaminated at the scene?’ Jimmy pressed.
‘No, I saw it,’ I man offered. ‘No smashed bottles nearby, and it went straight into a hermetically sealed bag.’
‘His blood sugar is at zero,’ a man offered. ‘He starved to death before stasis. High toxin level. I’d say he’s been dead for years, but preserved and frozen.’
‘A trick,’ Jimmy let out. ‘I want power restored to the gadgets that he had. Find a way to power them.’
‘They’re powered by simple cells; advanced, but cells none the less. We should be able to just increase the voltage till something happens.’
‘Do it, all of you, get on it,’ Jimmy urged. ‘I’ll wait.’ And he did.
They attached wires to the inside of what looked like a jogger’s pedometer, and slowly increased the power, altering the frequency. Light’s came on, died, then came back, the juice cranked up a bit. Figures and writing appeared.
‘Mister Silo! Sir!’ they called. Jimmy approached as a crowd gathered around the relevant man. ‘This was for monitoring his vitals.’
‘Is there a history?’ Jimmy asked.
‘Hold on. Yes, here. Warning of death, warning of low oxygen in the body, warning of low temperature, warning of low blood sugar, and … twelve days of readouts, all warnings. He died slowly. And this thing carried on working for …. 128 days afterwards.’
‘Use those same power settings on the other gadgets,’ Jimmy urged, the next device grabbed as faces peered over shoulders.
‘Here we go, got something. This says … communications.’
A voice crackled. Jimmy held up his hands, then a finger to his lips. He edged closer to it.
‘We can’t go back, so stop whining. They have a Seethan body, so they’ll blame them. Go jack in for a while and stop complaining.’
The man who had started-up the device now held up a finger. ‘It’s listening, but not sending; I can see the readouts.’
‘But can we track them?’ Jimmy asked.
‘They sounded South African,’ a lady suggested, Jimmy nodding towards her.
Jimmy lifted the device. ‘Computer, voice mode.’
‘Voice mode activated,’ came back in a pleasant female voice.
‘Computer, altitude of ship?’
‘Two point four kilometres.’
‘Bearing of ship from this reference point?’ Jimmy risked.
‘Ship is bearing two-eight-one degrees to planet’s current magnetic pole.’
‘Distance to ship?’
‘Sixty-four point two kilometres.’
‘Is ship static?’
‘Ship is stationary.’
A man grabbed a radio and stepped away.
‘Computer,’ Jimmy called. ‘Command override.’
‘Voice pattern not recognised.’
Jimmy eased back. ‘Send for Sandra the Seethan, by helicopter. She’s at the mansion.’
A man stepped away.
‘Computer,’ Jimmy called. ‘Activate self destruct.’
‘Self destruct is not recognised.’
‘Computer, land ship.’
‘Voice pattern not recognised.’
Jimmy heaved a sigh. ‘Computer, crew compliment?’
‘Crew compliment is six.’
‘Computer, how many crew are awake?’
‘No crew members are awake.’
‘Computer, explain anomaly of ship being flown with no crew.’
‘Ship is being flown with manual input.’
‘Computer, revive two crew members.’
‘Command authorisation needed.’
‘Computer, ship is damaged, communications damaged. Scan for damage.’
‘Ship has suffered damage, confirmed.’
‘Computer, revive two crew members to … assist with repairs.’
‘Revival process … started.’
Jimmy punched the air and smiled.
A man approached, whispering, ‘Fighters vectoring to that location, sir.’
‘Tell them to fire at random using cannon,’ Jimmy whispered. ‘At exactly two thousand four hundred metres.’ He returned to the device. ‘Computer, time to revive crew?’
‘Thirty-eight hours.’
Everyone’s face collectively sank.
‘Computer, intruder protocols.’
‘Protocols do not exist. Please specify.’
‘Computer, scan awake crew and analyse DNA and species.’
Ten seconds passed.
‘Crew awake are human.’
‘Computer, activate appropriate protocols for Seethan crew being asleep, ship damaged.’
‘Ship in need of repairs.’
Jimmy shook his head.
‘Computer, requirements … for license to pilot ship?’
‘A current license must be held.’
‘Computer, scan awake crew and establish … license status.’ People stared at Jimmy, frowning.
A long thirty seconds later came, ‘Crew are not licensed.’
‘Computer, take necessary steps to prevent unlicensed control of ship.’
‘Ship control has been returned to automatic.’
‘Computer, return to point of origin in time and space.’
‘Returning to point of origin.’
‘Computer, record message for licensed crew: this is Jimmy Silo, God speed.’
Everyone smiled, Jimmy stepping away. He lifted his phone. ‘Stand down global alert, alien ship is leaving Earth, contact was established. The threat has passed.’
When Sandra arrived, she was shocked by the body, but recognised certain features, and soon got other bits of equipment working. Jimmy had all of the items classified Top Secret, and warned everyone present not to discuss them. Still, he did allow an autopsy of the dead Seethan, and for the details to be shared. Outside, he called for a press conference.
‘Peoples of Earth. The ship that attacked Paul Holton, here in New Kinshasa, has left Earth, and I believe that there is no further danger. The ship was being controlled by humans, not Seethans, and was damaged. Somehow, the ship had been commandeered. Those humans shot at Paul Holton, for reasons that we are yet to determine.
‘Those same humans also threw a dead Seethan from the ship to try and fool us, but the Seethan had been dead for a very long time. We managed to get some of the communications devices on the dead Seethan crewman working, and I spoke directly with the ship’s computer. The computer saw reason, and acce
pted my request that it take control, and return home. I do not think it will be back, or a further threat. The only threat … is from man’s continuing ability to wage war on others. All soldiers, stand down when ordered, and thank you for your efforts.’
Jimmy took a moment. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen of New Kinshasa. When a danger presented itself to you - an alien ship - a brave helicopter crew rammed that ship, and damaged it, but got themselves killed in the process. There was no greater display of solidarity towards the people. That crew will have a statue placed in Main Square, their families compensated and honoured.
‘Members of the Rifles, when you raise you glasses next, remember that helicopter crew. They have earned their place in Rifles legend. Thank you.’
The police and the army hung around all that day, and fighters continued to scream past, but by the next morning things were starting to return to normal. The one difference was that many now believed someone wanted to stop Selemba because of her destiny. Many governments and bodies offered her extra protection, and I had visions of her in some underground bunker surrounded by thick concrete walls. I explained, politely but firmly, that all people should return to normal activities, and to relax. If only I could take my own advice; being around the pool was just not the same any more.
A week later, and with no further incidents, I left Helen and Selemba by the pool, and took Susan back to Canada with Klok and Chime. We landed at Manson, and I took myself and my case back to the Seethan world, where the local inhabitants had no idea about stealth spacecraft.
Back at the embassy, that evening, I discovered that Pleb had suffered a small fire in his room, a smoke detector now fitted. It was good to know that some things were constant. The staff were all concerned for me, and asked lots of questions, especially about Seethan paradoxes. We chatted late into the night.
A day later, a minister for war procurement, or something along those lines, came to see us. We welcomed him, gave him hot chocolate and tuna, and he eventually asked about fast cars – and what we could do to help. I was pleased.
‘Minister, we can offer to teach your people about cars and trucks so that you may learn to make your own vehicles faster, and more reliable. And, we can do so with films.’
‘Oh, OK,’ was the response.
I dug out a data-pad, the pad already converted for just such a use. I explained its use, and that car engineers should watch all twenty films in sequence.
That caused a pause. ‘Could you … show the films, and provide food.’
I smiled. ‘Of course. You let us know about the car factories, and we’ll send people. And food.’
The man left us. I could not say that he was happy, since few Seethan expressed thanks or smiled much, especially not ministers or officials.
Within a few days, car mechanics were sat watching specially prepared films, and munching away. Those films were a type of cartoon, aimed at children aged 12+ on my world, and explained metal smelting, refining, casts, shapes, wheels, rubber, suspension and steering, advancing to better versions of a typical vehicle after each film. We were making progress.
A day after the launch of this new educational programme, our ambassador in Preethan territory contacted us. Seems that the Preethan spies had caught wind of the car films, and they wanted access to them. The Israelis and the Palestinians came to mind.
As the weather improved, but remained cold at night, data-pads were sent through the Denver portal, as well as a great deal more hot chocolate. And that led to the Seethan Government asking specific questions, the first being about bridge building. Our ambassador now actually had a few things to do each day, and he organised films on bridge building for a select group of Seethan engineers. These engineers, however, were quite clever, and I wondered where they had been hiding away. They took notes, discussed topics, and even had slide rules.
I produced a large-buttoned calculator, solar powered, and showed them how to work it. They were delighted, and took it away after watching the film. They returned the next day, and smiled and greeted us. The ambassador and I were surprised, to say the least, and exchanged a look. Was this progress? I had arranged for more calculators, and they were much appreciated. Our smart engineers watched eleven films in sequence, and requested to see films number three and number nine again, notes taken. When they asked Pleb complex questions, they lost their tempers with him. No, I patiently explained to Pleb, bridge supports would not stick better with mud and pig shit – even if that worked well at your old house.
I used a translation data-pad, and asked them to come back the next day. When they arrived, I had two human engineers sat ready, translation pads also ready, Pleb distracted elsewhere. The Seethan engineers asked questions, which were duly translated, answers given in great detail, images and calculations shown on pads. After they had departed, I asked our engineers what the Seether were up to.
‘They’ve tried to build a bridge across a high tight gorge, as well as a long-span bridge,’ the human engineers explained. ‘Our assistance should make a difference, in that … the bridges won’t fall down. They’re also working on a dam.’
‘A dam,’ I repeated. ‘Then … maybe we could lose a few hydroelectric generators over here. By the way, where do they get their oil and gas?’ No one knew, so we asked Pleb.
Apparently, the strange black stuff that burnt came from under the ground like black sand, and was found in the far south of Seethan and Preethan territory; they were digging up and refining shale oil in Wyoming. I had a look at the map, and at the front lines in the war, and they centred around the shale oil fields. And that recent campaign, that would have started a new offensive right where the primary shale oil was being extracted.
The ambassador and I sat and stared at each other for many seconds as the penny dropped. They had fallen out over oil, and maybe even the original tribal division had been over oil. An aerial scan revealed old human mine workings that had been taken over by the Seether and Preether, and there were many a burnt-out tanks lying around those parts of Wyoming.
I scanned the geological maps of the region, and found a shale deposit towards Kentucky, too far away to be of any use. I scanned the known oil fields and found many small and isolated deposits to the east of the Rocky Mountains, as well as Canadian sand tar. Being a bit sneaky, I had a map annotated with three known oil deposits highlighted, and sent it to the Seethan President. He asked to come and see me the next day, making me smile.
To the ambassador, I said, ‘It’s all about oil, isn’t it.’
‘It always was,’ he dryly commented.
We greeted the President and his aides, and he asked about the map.
‘We see everything,’ I told the President. ‘And, if you assist us to talk peace, we shall show you more oil in the ground, much more.’
We were now talking his language, the language of strategic oil reserves. I even offered to have oil drilling equipment brought over to assist, and to teach them how to drill oil – films and hot chocolate now on the table as a bargaining chips. It was a done deal and, for the first time, a Seethan official said thank you. Small miracles. I ordered up the oil drilling equipment, but got a note from Jimmy.
‘Dope. If you give both sides oil they’ll just attack each other fully fuelled!’
I sat and thought about things, and mentioned it to the ambassador, Henry.
‘Perhaps we are moving a little too quickly,’ Henry agreed. ‘And, when they have more oil, then they have more oil for their tanks and planes.’
‘We’ll drill one site, keep them happy, but slow it down,’ I suggested. I sent a note to our ambassador in Preethan territory, and he was aghast at what I had done, quickly offering the Preether an oilfield before they found out - and before they complained. We could not give one child without the other.
With that problem almost sorted, Henry’s phone came to life, the face of Administrator Peck in Antarctica. ‘Hello? Is there anyone there?’
Henry sat and hit a button. ‘Mister
Peck, this is the Ambassador to Seether. How are things with you?’
‘We were just wondering what progress you’ve made?’
‘Have you discussed evacuation with your people?’
‘We have, and the majority have voted to evacuate to your world, but we would like to take our cultural research and scientific knowledge with us.’
‘I’m sure that would not be a problem.’
‘Some of the items are … bulky,’ Peck pointed out.
‘Once a portal is open we can start moving people and equipment, and we’ll obviously try and open a portal inside your main structure.’
‘Oh, well, yes, that would be preferable to outside. When do you think that will be?’
‘The last report I looked at suggested a test opening in two weeks time.’
‘Well, then I guess we’ll start to pack up.’
Henry asked, ‘Did you … try the drugs?’
‘We did, yes, on … sick people of course, and the results were quite astounding. Thank you for sending them.’
‘Of the vials you received, a quarter dose is sufficient. Would you like more … ahead of time?’
‘If you can get them here, then yes,’ Peck readily agreed.
‘We’ll send more in a day or two.’
‘Thank you. Over and out.’ Peck ended the call.
Keets stepped out of Peck’s office and zipped up his jacket. Walking across a busy promenade, encircled by busy walkways under a glass dome, he approached a group of men. Checking over his shoulder, he said, ‘They’ll send more of those drugs. And they reckon a week till they get here.’
‘No signs that those drugs are a trick,’ a man whispered. ‘They cure burns like fucking nobody’s business. And they injected a lad with the flu virus. Should have killed him, but it had no effect!’
Keets took a moment. ‘They’re sweetening us up for takeover and conquest, don’t be fooled. Anyway, I have credits to burn up.’
The men grinned sadistically as Keets moved off. On a lower level, Keets knocked at a grubby white plastic door and entered a warm and fragrant room with subdued lighting. ‘Hey,’ he said to a bored looking man sat a desk.
‘Got some credits burning a hole in your pocket?’ the man asked.
