Alien Offer

  Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  _In space, a vengeful fleet waited.... Then the furred strangers arrived with a plan to save Earth's children. But the General wasn't sure if he could trust an_

  ALIEN OFFER

  By AL SEVCIK

  ILLUSTRATOR LLEWELLYN

  "You are General James Rothwell?"

  Rothwell sighed. "Yes, Commander Aku. We have met several times."

  "Ah, yes. I recognize your insignia. Humans are so alike." The alienstrode importantly across the office, the resilient pads of his broadfeet making little plopping sounds on the rug, and seated himselfabruptly in the visitor's chair beside Rothwell's desk. He gave a sharpcry, and another alien, shorter, but sporting similar, golden fur,stepped into the office and closed the door. Both wore simple, brownuniforms, without ornamentation.

  "I am here," Aku said, "to tell you something." He stared impassively atRothwell for a minute, his fur-covered, almost human face completelyexpressionless, then his gaze shifted to the window, to the hot runwaysof New York International Airport and to the immense gray spaceshipthat, even from the center of the field, loomed above the hangars andpassenger buildings. For an instant, a quick, unguessable emotionclouded the wide black eyes and tightened the thin lips, then it wasgone.

  Rothwell waited.

  "General, Earth's children must all be aboard my ships within one week.We will start to load on the sixth day, next Thursday." He stood.

  The aliens supervised the loading as anguished parentslooked on.]

  Rothwell locked eyes with the alien, and leaned forward, grinding hisknuckles into the desk top. "You know that's impossible. We can't select100,000 children from every country and assemble them in only six days."

  "You will do it." The alien turned to leave.

  "Commander Aku! Let me remind you ..."

  Aku spun around, eyes flashing. "General Rothwell! Let _me_ remind youthat two weeks ago I didn't even know Earth existed, and sinceaccidentally happening across your sun system and learning of yourtrouble I have had my entire trading fleet of a hundred ships in orbitabout this planet while all your multitudinous political subdivisionshave filled the air with talk and wrangle.

  "I am sorry for Earth, but my allegiance is to my fleet and I cannotremain longer than seven more days and risk being caught up in yourdestruction. Now, either you accept my offer to evacuate as many humansas my ships will carry, or you don't." He paused. "You are the planet'sevacuation coordinator; you will give me an answer."

  * * * * *

  Rothwell's arms sagged, he sunk back down into his chair, all pretensegone. Slowly he swung around to face the window and the gray ship,standing like a Gargantuan sundial counting the last days of Earth. Healmost whispered. "We are choosing the children. They will be ready insix days."

  He heard the door open and close. He was alone.

  Five years ago, he thought, we cracked the secret of faster-than-lighttravel, and since then we've built about three dozen exploration shipsand sent them out among the stars to see what they could see.

  He stared blankly at the palms of his hand. I wonder what it was weexpected to find?

  We found that the galaxy was big, that there were a lot of stars, not somany planets, and practically no other life--at least no intelligence tocompare with ours. Then ... He jabbed a button on his intercom.

  "Ed Philips here. What is it Jim?"

  "Doc, are you sure your boys have hypo'd, couched, and hypno'd the _Leo_crew with everything you've got?"

  The voice on the intercom sighed. "Jim, those guys haven't got a memoryof their own. We know everything about each one of them, from the hurtshe got falling off tricycles to the feel of the first girl he kissed.Those men aren't lying, Jim."

  "I never thought they were lying, Doc." Rothwell paused for a minute andstudied the long yellow hairs that grew sparsely across the back of hishand, thickened to a dense grove at his wrist, and vanished under thesleeve of his uniform. He looked back at the intercom. "Doc, all I knowis that three perfectly normal guys got on board that ship, and when itcame back we found a lot of jammed instruments and three men terrifiedalmost to the point of insanity."

  "Jim, if you'd seen ..."

  Rothwell interrupted. "I know. Five radioactive planets with the freshscars of cobalt bombs and the remains of civilizations. Then radarscreens erupting crazily with signals from a multi-thousand ship spacefleet; vector computers hurriedly plotting and re-plotting thefast-moving trajectory, submitting each time an unvarying answer for thefleet's destination--our own solar system." He slapped his hand flatagainst the desk. "The point is, Doc, it's not much to go on, and wedon't dare send another ship to check for fear of attracting attentionto ourselves. If we could only be _sure_."

  "Jim," over the intercom, Philips' voice seemed to waver slightly,"those men honestly saw what they say. I'd stake my life on it."

  "All of us are, Doc." He flipped the off button. Just thirty days now,since the scout ship _Leo's_ discovery and the panicked dash for homewith the warning. Not that the warning was worth much, he reflected,Earth had no space battle fleet. There had never been any reason tobuild one.

  Then, two weeks ago, Aku's trading fleet had descended from nowhere,having blundered, he said, across Earth's orbit while on a new routebetween two distant star clusters. When told of the impending attack,Aku immediately offered to cancel his trip and evacuate as many humansas his ships could hold, so that humanity would at least survive,somewhere in the galaxy. Earth chose to accept his offer.

  "Hobson's choice," Rothwell growled to himself. "No choice at all."After years of handling hot and cold local wars and crises of everydescription, his military mind had become conditioned to a completedisbelief in fortuitous coincidence, and he gagged at the thought of Aku"just happening by." Still frowning, he punched a yellow button on hisdesk, and reviewed in his mind the things he wanted to say.

  * * * * *

  "Jim! Isn't everything all right?"

  Chagrined, Rothwell scrambled to his feet, the President had neveranswered so quickly before. He faced the screen on the wall to his rightand saluted, amazed once again at how old the man looked. Sparse whitehair criss-crossed haphazardly over the President's head, his face waslined with deep trenches that not even the most charitable could callwrinkles, and the faded eyes that stared from deep caverns no longerradiated the flaming vitality that had inspired victorious armies in theAfrican war.

  "Commander Aku was just here, sir. He demands that the children beready for evacuation next Thursday. I told him that it would be damneddifficult."

  The face on the screen paled perceptibly. "I hope you didn't anger thecommander!"

  Rothwell ground his teeth. "I told him we'd deliver the goods onThursday."

  Presidential lips tightened. "I don't care for the way you said that,General."

  Rothwell straightened. "I apologize, sir. It's just that this wholelousy setup has me worried silly. I don't like Aku making like aguardian angel and us having no choice but to dance to his harp." Hisfingers clenched. "God knows we need his help, and I guess its wrong toask too many questions, but how come he's only landed one of his ships,and why is it that he and his lieutenant are the only aliens to leavethat ship--the only aliens we've ever even seen? It just doesn't figureout!" There, he thought, I've said it.

  The President looked at him quietly for a minute, then answered softly,"I know, Jim, but what else can we do?" Rothwell winced at the shake inthe old man's voice.

  "I don't know," he said. "But Aku's got us in a hell of a spot."

  "Uh, Jim. You haven't said this in public, have you?"

  Rothwell snorted. "No, _
sir_, I don't care for a panic."

  "There, there, Jim." The President smiled weakly. "We can't expect thealiens to act like we do, can we?" He began to adopt the preacher tonehe used so effectively in his campaign speeches. "We must be thankfulfor the chance breeze that wafted Commander Aku to these shores, and forhis help. Maybe the war fleet won't arrive after all and everything willturn out all right. You're doing a fine job, Jim." The screen wentblank.

  * * * * *

  Rothwell felt sick. He felt sorry for the President, but sorrier for theWestern Democratic Union, to