The Trojan Horse (10 page)

Shaking his head, he started towards the kitchen for a can of soda.  It was nearly time for him to leave the computer for the night and go to work in the 7/11.  He disliked the job intensely, but it had been the only one he’d been able to get, despite his qualifications and status as an accredited BAN blogger.  Personally, he blamed Congress; instead of funding prioritising getting Americans back to work, they rewarded incompetence and bailed out banks that should have been allowed to fail.  And hard-working Americans paid the price for their failures, while up on the Hill, Congress debated how to hand the nation over to a force from outer space. 

He would have liked to believe the silken promises offered by the Galactics and their supporters, but he didn't dare.  In the real world, no one did anything for nothing – and some took their payment in feel-good feelings.  The thought that they had done something to help pleased people; the fact that giving money to a homeless druggie only helped the druggie to keep doping himself seemed to have escaped their notice.  Even if the Galactics meant well, that didn't mean that they would actually do good.

The knock on the door was loud and firm.  He scowled as he changed course and marched towards the door, mentally cataloguing anything incriminating that might be in sight.  His apartment had been raided once before when the Washington PD had got the wrong address; they’d damaged his computers, confiscated anything that even looked significant...and refused to pay any compensation.  They hadn't even admitted that they’d screwed up and raided the wrong apartment.  And the mainstream media hadn't cared enough to send a reporter to make the whole thing public. 

He peeked through the peephole and blinked in surprise.  Instead of a pair of uniformed policemen, there was a single man standing outside the door.  He was black, with dark stubble on his cheeks and a short, almost military haircut.  The dark coat he wore concealed almost everything else.  He looked official, maybe a Fed; Arnie wondered, grimly, what he might have done this time.  It was well known that the Feds kept an eye on the BAN after the network had been used to distribute official papers proving that the government had been economical with the truth.

The door clicked as it opened.  “Yes?”

“I’m Federal Agent Davenant,” the black man said, holding up a card.  Arnie made a show of studying it, but in truth he wasn't sure precisely what a FBI card looked like.  “I’m investigating a case at the moment; are you alone in the apartment?”

Somehow, he’d moved forward enough to block the door.  “Yes,” Arnie said.  “Do you have a warrant...”

He never completed the sentence.  The man lunged forward and slammed the palm of his hand into Arnie’s neck.  Arnie was barely aware of a
crack
before darkness loomed up and swallowed him whole.  He was dead before his body hit the ground.

***

Moving with a speed that belied his bulk, Davenant swooped down on the body and dragged it into the apartment.  Closing the door behind him, he carted the body over to the sofa and dumped it out of sight.  The research had said that the blogger lived alone – there was no girlfriend at present – but there was no way to be entirely certain.  Once the body was hidden from casual view, he went into the next room and looted a drawer of cash and a handful of small items that could be fenced easily.  By the time the police found the body – it would start to smell soon enough – it would look like a robbery that had turned into a murder.

Smiling to himself, he looked around the apartment one final time and then left, closing the door behind him.  No one saw him leave.

Chapter Ten

Near Mannington, Virginia

USA, Day 20

“I wonder,” Toby asked himself silently, “if I’m doing the right thing.”

It had taken several days to set up the meeting.  He could have just picked up a phone or emailed, but he had to assume that the aliens were monitoring cell phone conversations – and he was already a target for their attentions.  In the end, he’d had to send a friend to speak to his father and trust his father not to ask too many questions over an open line.  Luckily, Colonel Sanderson was just as paranoid as his son, although for different reasons.  He had arranged the meeting without comment.

He followed his father into his study, feeling old memories crawling up into his mind.   The bookcase, containing his father’s collection of manuals from his military service, books he’d studied as a child.  The desk, a heavy wooden object that had been passed down from the first Sanderson to buy the farm and raise a family in America; his father was the only one allowed to use it, at least until he passed the farm on to his children.  The leather chair, the one he’d bent over for a thrashing after a schoolboy prank had gone horrifyingly wrong…the room’s smells
assailed his nostrils, bringing back memories from the past.  And the two pictures hanging on an otherwise plain wooden wall; Mary Sanderson, Toby’s mother, and Robert Sanderson, his elder brother, the one he’d looked up to as a child.  They were both long dead.

There were nine people seated in the room, waiting for him.  They were all ex-military, mainly from the infantry, although one of them was a Marine.  The Colonel had no truck with those who argued that the Marines weren’t real soldiers, not after he’d fought alongside the Marines in the Gulf.  He did have a prejudice against the politicians in uniforms who fought wars to please the media rather than concentrating on actually winning, but Toby wouldn’t have disagreed with that sentiment.  Ten years in Washington had left him with few illusions about the true nature of politics.  For every Senator and Congressmen genuinely devoted to the country – or even to their state – there was a dozen devoted to nothing more than their own power.

His father opened the meeting with the Pledge of Allegiance, a reminder that they all served – or had served – the United States of America.  Toby, who had heard his father’s rants about businessmen who refused to feature the pledge at their annual meetings, echoed their words, even though he wasn’t sure how much it meant.  Doing the right thing for the country required careful consideration of what the country actually needed, rather than knee-jerk reflexes from both sides of the political divide.  There were men in his father’s clannish network that would happily ban abortion and yet refuse to teach children about sex, ensuring that the number of teenage pregnancies continued to rise.  Toby had never been impressed with either side of the argument.

“Very well, Toby,” his father said, finally.  Toby thought that the old man had been pleased to see him, but it wasn't in his nature to slaughter the fatted calf and welcome his lost son home – at least not at once.  “You wanted this meeting.  Here we are, waiting on you.”

Toby nodded, slowly.  He knew five of the men; old friends of his father, dangerous men with a sense of honour, the sense that separated warriors from the barbarians warriors fought to keep away from the civilians.  The other four were strangers.  It was a good thing, in a way; if he was taken and interrogated, he wouldn’t be able to betray all of them to the aliens – or to the FBI.  The Federal Government disliked what it chose to call right-wing militias and devoted a vast amount of effort to tracking them down and maintaining surveillance over potential targets.  And the aliens would presumably have access to all of their files…

“Before we begin, there is something I need to make clear,” he said.  He was nervous, but his voice sounded steady.  It helped that he had known most of them since childhood; Blake Coleman, a massive black man, wasn't too intimidating to the kid he’d bounced on his knee or carried on his shoulders across a river.  The sudden childhood memory almost made his voice catch.  “The information I will impart to you is – at least partly – covered by any number of regulations governing national security.  The Federal Government has chosen to assert that civilian possession of this information will threaten national security.  If you listen to me, you may face legal action; if anyone wants to leave now, please do so.”

“Respectfully suggest,” one of the strangers grunted, “that you quit insulting us and get to the point.”

Toby nodded.  “It has been just under three weeks since the starships arrived in Earth orbit,” he said.  “They have already turned the world upside down, but until now we didn’t know the terms for Earth’s provisional membership in the Galactic Federation.  We do know now – and they are disquieting.  The aliens say they come in peace, and that they mean us well, but the evidence doesn’t back up their claims.  Among other things, they have been telling different things to different people.”

He scowled.  It had taken a covert international effort – sharing information from Britain, France, Russia and even China – to put together a picture of what the aliens were telling the different nations.  The aliens had visited almost every nation in the world, even the ones that were abominations on the face of the planet.  They condemned human nations that were built around a religious ideal – one that served as an excuse for oppressing their own people – and yet they hadn’t hesitated to visit Saudi Arabia and Iran.  Their presence in the Middle East had worried the CIA, even the analysts who hadn’t known about some of the more suspicious alien actions.  The arrival of fusion power threatened the Middle East oil states and a number of Islamic terrorist groups had issued threats against the aliens.  No one knew what the Snakes would do if one of their people was shot, or kidnapped, but no one wanted to find out.

“Their terms are alarmingly simple.  First, they want a global government that the Galactic Federation can actually treat as speaking for the majority of the planet.  The UN just won’t cut it.  They want us all to sign up to a global supranational government, one that will have a great deal of authority and the clout to ensure that its mandates are followed by the individual nation-states.  Any state that refuses to join and contribute to the global government will be frozen out of any trade and technological deals with the Galactic Federation.”

“Hell,” Coleman said.  “Why don’t they just call it the Global Community and have done with it?”

Toby smiled, recognising the reference.  “Second, they want us to largely disarm.  States are to cut their military forces back by at least ninety percent – and all nuclear weapons are to be dismantled.  The global government – whatever form it takes – will handle Earth’s security and the Galactic Federation will provide whatever support is required to ensure that the states that don’t join the global government are unable to threaten the new status quo.

“Third…they want us to work on fixing our own mess.  The global government will have a very powerful oversight role over businesses and industrial production sites.  They will have the clout to close polluting businesses without facing centuries of legal battles in the courts.  Among other things, most of the weapons industry across the world will be dismantled and the world will switch to a wholly fusion-powered lifestyle.  Further, they will control the banks and work on fixing the debt mess that caused the economic crisis in the last decade…”

“It sounds,” Coleman observed, “as if they wish to take control of the entire world.”

Toby nodded.  “From what we’ve been told,” he said, “the Galactic Federation is actually a three-tier structure.  First, you have races like us; races that have to be helped into space.  Second, you have races like the Snakes; races that made it into space on their own.  And finally, you have races that have actually helped another race into space.  The Snakes have confided in a handful of their more persistent questioners that they desperately want the status that comes with helping another race into the Federation and that’s why they’re so determined to help us, even if we don’t want to be helped.”

“How very human of them,” the Colonel observed.  “Do you believe them?”

Toby hesitated, and then shook his head.  “No,” he said, flatly.  “There are too many holes and inconsistencies in their story.  And then there’s the other evidence.”

He ran through a brief outline of the nanotech bugs the NSA had discovered, and then went on to a different – even more alarming – matter.  “There have been a number of deaths recently,” he added.  “Nine people who have publicly questioned the Galactic Federation’s motive in visiting our world have wound up dead over the last four days.  Six of them were killed in what looks to be muggings or robberies gone bad; one of the women was apparently knifed to death by a would-be rapist and one is dead of a heart attack.”

“I’m not sure that proves anything,” Coleman pointed out, mildly.  “A shit of a lot more than nine people drop dead every day from unnatural causes.”

“True,” Toby agreed, “and so far the police appear to agree with you.  But I spoke to a friend at the FBI and he pulled up the case notes – and there are a lot of odd things they have in common.  Apart from the fact that all of the dead were alien sceptics, the forensic teams found no traces of DNA evidence that might lead to the murderers – even the attempted rape scene was clean.”

“That’s absurd,” one of the strangers said.  “A rape – even a failed rape – always leaves evidence.”

“I know,” Toby said.  “My view of the situation is that all nine of them – with the possible exception of the heart attack victim – were killed by professional assassins.  I have been reluctant to draw this matter to the attention of the FBI; I think we must assume that all government databases have been compromised by the aliens.  And I don’t think that the deaths prove that the aliens have good motives.  They’re the only ones who benefit from the deaths.”

The Colonel held up a hand.  “This is all very interesting,” he said, “but let’s go back to the matter at hand.  I can’t see the President accepting the terms the aliens are offering…”

Toby scowled.  “The President may not have much choice,” he said.  “The Galactic Federation has told us that if we refuse to join the global government on their terms, we will be frozen out of all agreements – and tech transfers – with the Federation.  You have to understand what that would mean for American businesses.  Every overpaid lobbyist in Washington is currently banging down doors and making it clear to their tame Congressmen that if the government refuses to accept the alien terms, they can forget about having any more contributions to their campaign funds.”

He shook his head.  “And that doesn’t include a hundred other lobbies,” he added.  “The environmental lobby is demanding that we close down all of the remaining nuclear plants and switch to fusion – which the aliens provide – at once.  They have millions of supporters who will back the candidates who agree to the Federation’s terms.  And then there are the millions of people who have seen their lives ruined by the depression while the government flounders and Wall Street’s big bankers walk away with huge payments and untroubled lives.  Those people had lost their hope; the aliens returned it.  The foreign aid lobby looks towards the resources that could be put to use eliminating poverty across the world, the peace lobby thinks how wonderful a world we would have without a military…everyone who just
knows
that the world would be a better place if we all agreed to just get along has signed up to support the Galactic Federation.

“Some…friends of mine in Washington have been tracking the visitors to alien bases.  We know of political leaders who have agreed to support the aliens; protesters and political lobbies…the aliens are building up a power base on Earth.  And they’re doing it everywhere; there are now alien bases in almost every major country and they’ve even been buying human buildings and refurbishing them for their use in the capitals.  I think they’ve even been quietly manipulating the stock market and placing orders for components with human firms, just to ensure that they have an incredibly strong bargaining position.”

The Colonel frowned.  “I remember when people were paranoid about the Japanese buying up everything,” he said.  “That didn’t last forever.”

“This is different,” Toby said.  “The worst-case scenario is that the aliens have been quietly muscling their way towards controlling interests in everything from heavy industry to the media.  Some of their allies are known stockbrokers with years of experience, or political lobbyists who have plenty of skills and no scruples.  And one thing keeps echoing through my mind.

“They want us to get rid of the army – every human army on Earth.  And that makes no sense; surely, if they were telling the truth, human armies would wither away soon enough without encouragement.  Even if we kept a million men under arms, what possible threat would it pose to the Galactic Federation?  One asteroid on our heads and it’s bye-bye Earth.”