Alien Alliance



  Alien Alliance

  Maxine Millar

  Copyright © 2016 Maxine Millar

  All rights reserved.

  Ebook formatting by www.ebooklaunch.com

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to Elizabeth Clare Collingwood Roxburgh who was going to collaborate with me on it but died before she was able to.

  Acknowledgements

  As always, several people assisted me enthusiastically.

  You can’t manage without your friends

  Many thanks go to;

  Carolyn, the computer expert for wood processor and computer work

  Lynn, for encouragement and feedback

  Carol, (the doctor), for encouragement and checking the medical facts

  Mary, for encouragement (lots), and proof reading (several times!)

  Stephen Stratford for the first edit.

  Alasdair and Luke for helping me to convert it to Office

  Samantha who helped with the second edit

  Vila Design for the book cover

  And lastly a complaint from my cat who had to put up with the laptop when she considers her staff should be ever available warm blooded furniture, not sitting there writing and ignoring her!

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  1. First Contact

  2. SETI

  3. Preparation for Departure

  4. Cattle Class

  5. Arrival

  6. Next Morning

  7. Incommunicado

  8. Enslaved

  9. Day Two

  10. Day Three

  11. Reclassification

  12. Moving House

  13. Supplied to Order

  14. The Kids.

  15. City Attacked

  16. Mahmoud

  17. Boat City

  18. The Kepis

  19. Reunited

  20. Running on Empty

  21. Alliecats

  22. Invaders

  23. Steve

  24. The Art of War

  25. Council of War

  26. W.M.D

  27. Council of War

  28. Az

  29. Kaz

  30. Swimming Lessons

  31. Plan of Attack

  32. Li

  33. Payback

  34. Bugs

  35. Counter Attack

  36. Consequences

  37. Onward and Upward

  Index of characters

  First Contact

  Paswalda was peeved. Worse, he didn’t know where he was. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He knew he had come from Oberterk but it would be inadvisable for his life expectancy to return that way. His computer was trying to find out where else he could go after his headlong flight from the Nashi. He was decidedly miffed. There was no need to chase him clear out of the galaxy. That was downright petty and a waste of fuel and months of time. Just because he’d stolen a few slaves that they had stolen in the first place. He took inventory. His holds were almost full but his ship was able to take more yet. His destination was Torroxell and he was now going to be very late. He didn’t want to think of the penalties. He had no passengers, no paying ones at any rate. But he had only the minimum crew of twenty-one. Any more reduction in staff would mean working one shift on and one off. No down time.

  Hmm. He scrolled through the charts which were very incomplete in this region. They were well away from all standard shipping routes due to that little misunderstanding with the Nashi. He thought, he calculated, he looked, he had an idea. There was no discussion. What he decided was law. His crew quietly and efficiently ran the ship while he did what he generally did well; work out how to increase his already substantial wealth.

  Most People with his degree of wealth lived in luxury on planets. But there he was just one of a kind. Paswalda liked to run things. He liked to be the king of his castle. He thought he would be cheated if he didn’t supervise. He was right.

  He did some more calculations. According to his information, which he had paid a great deal of money for, there was an ancient contact here, on the third planet. He called the Navigator over. The course was changed. He left the bridge with instructions to call him as the ship neared the system’s sun. He was amused at the thought of the Nashi waiting, almost certainly, in ambush for him. How disappointing for them.

  Some weeks later, the pilot informed him they were near to the sun. He entered the bridge.

  “Minor alert. Check weapons, check shields, organize warriors.”

  He watched in satisfaction as crew scurried into position, lights flashed, alarms sounded.

  All this had already been practised while he was in his sleep cycle. Quietly, of course. The crew knew what happened if things didn’t work efficiently. All was checked. The alert was eventually cancelled. All quietened down. But the atmosphere was charged. All knew this was risky. It was also illegal, hopefully lucrative, definitely interesting. Life on a ship was very boring. Having several races on board didn’t help. Tempers get frayed, misunderstandings are common, fights occur, minor injuries are insignificant, except for the possibility of revenge, but major injuries could wipe out a crew member’s profit margin. Or prove fatal if the crew member had no credit left for treatment. That was better. Less crew with which to share the profit. So far this voyage three crew had ‘left’.

  Three shifts later they neared the atmosphere of the third planet. Entering the bridge, Paswalda went over to the weapons board looking enquiringly at Kisilodsak, the Attacker.

  “Many satellites, possibly communications, three look like telescopes, four could be weapons platforms.”

  “Oh?? They’ve been busy educating themselves I see. Weapons aimed at space?”

  “No, at the planet.”

  “Really!? Interesting.” He glanced around. Shields were up. The linguists were working hard. All the crew had multiple jobs and training. “Where are the major technological areas?”

  “Several; one large one here, one here, sporadic ones here and here, so much of this planet is ocean. No climate control. It’s a water world; about ninety percent uninhabitable. They have various forms of power including nuclear. The scans are confusing. There seems to be only one race here, but they are all over the planet, on land, ice, on water, in wildly fluctuating temperature zones, this doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe the ice and water are prisons. Interesting form of barrier. The information I have indicated two races, similar. Maybe they killed one off.

  “Have they detected us yet?”

  “Doesn’t look like it.”

  “Let me know when you think it safe to try a landing.” He left and headed for the mess.

  Several sleep cycles later, the scientists and linguists thought they had reached some conclusions. Paswalda listened while they discussed levels of technology and the possibility of nuclear weapons but Paswalda disagreed,

  “No People would be foolish enough to build something that would destroy that much. Warfare with nuclear weapons would destroy what you wanted to conquer. That’s stupid. If they have brains enough to build nuclear power they have brains enough to stick to sensible warfare if they have warfare. Besides, they would poison the planet.”

  As usual, he won the argument. It was logical. No people were idiotic enough to use nuclear weapons on their own planet or on any they wanted to take possession of. He continued,

  “Any indications that their level of technology indicates a potential problem?”

  “It doesn’t seem so.”

  “Any signs they have detected us.”

  “No.”

  He looked over the screen and through the data.

  “Try a landing here at the biggest technological area.” Paswalda looked o
ver at the three linguists. Edkajil said,

  “There are a huge number of languages there. This area has over 30.”

  As they neared the land there were two main problems.

  “The ground temperature is freezing and they have no climate control. Also they have launched what look like military interceptors,” said Kisilodsak.

  “Alright, try over here,” Paswalda said indicating the second biggest area.

  Edkajil spoke up, “That area has 72% speaking one language, the same language that is the language of the air traffic. That should be the universal language.” But some time later, they had better temperatures but an even faster launch.

  “Could these be a problem?” Paswalda asked indicating the aircraft climbing towards them.

  “Impossible to know what they have.”

  “Take an educated guess.”

  Kisilodsak was apprehensive. It would be his profit or his life if he got this one wrong. He thought quickly. “I wouldn’t chance it. How about over here? The weather is good, low population and the technological level is less. Also it’s isolated. It would take time for its allies to get there. And the air traffic has no military seeming aircraft.”

  “They speak mainly the universal language,” Edkajil added. “So does that land just above it and the bigger one beside it. But at their aircraft speed, from this bigger area, they are nearly three hours away at what seems to be their average flight speed.”

  “How are you going on that language?”

  “We have a small vocabulary in the Translator. I am unsure how accurate it is. Their transmissions are very confusing. We are using what seem to be news programmes and children’s programmes.

  Paswalda decided to chance it. They would be less vulnerable on the ground where their shields had less to cover and they could get power from the ground. “Where is a good landing space?”

  “Here.”

  “Anything around that we should be worried about?”

  “No, I don’t think so. That very large aircraft looks like a freight carrier. It’s being loaded. Incoming aircraft are all passenger type.”

  They moved at full speed, braked heavily at the last moment and were on the ground in minutes before the Aliens had much time to react. Paswalda activated the ship’s land shield and left instructions it was to be left on. The power drain would be a pity but it was best to be safe. The few seconds it would take to power it up might be too late. It was unlikely, but always a possibility, that these Aliens had something unexpected. Paswalda powered up his shield. It was the best one available. The door opened and he shambled out and moved towards the main building. As he moved on, he noticed that his robots were scurrying about, collecting samples. He loved this part. The Aliens were, as their communication showed, bipedal, multi coloured, clothed and… not running away. Curious. They’ve seen People before. Naughty, naughty. So he wasn’t the only one breaking the rules. They were not trying to stop him either. That lesson they had obviously learned.

  He entered the doorway and looked around. He moved over to an Alien that was acting as if it was in control, by the door. He switched on the Translator.

  “Hi. I Paswalda. I come see yous. I need learn speaking. You teach.” The Alien didn’t run away. It turned and said something. Some of the Aliens close by moved away, especially the ones with children. Several Aliens were aiming things at him. Oh, they would get a surprise. Nothing happened. They didn’t shoot anything at him. Recording devices, scanners? There were a lot of them! One of the children close to him aimed something at him. He moved forward, pointed and held out his hand. The nearest Adult Alien unstrapped it from the child’s wrist and handed it over. The child made a loud noise but the adult quickly moved away towing the child. He looked at the thing. There were lights, colours and noise. He’d thought it was a weapon or data bracelet but it was neither. He handed it to the Alien in charge and the Translator said, “Where, what?”

  The Alien politely took it off him and then indicated talking, showing him its own device on its wrist and the child’s one alternately. Ah, a communication device. It then pointed it at him and then showed him his own image. Now why would they combine a communication device and a visual recorder? Very curious. Were they all scholars or students? This was going well.

  “Any worries?” He voice activated his own communication device.

  “All quiet. One aircraft landed just after us but the Aliens are being led away from where you are. Others are circling, most have gone away. The little craft are landing well away from us. No obvious military aircraft close though some are now in the air. No other signs of aggression. The air is breathable, the temperature is passable, no serious toxins obvious. You are safe to proceed.”

  Paswalda altered his shield setting so he breathed the local air. “They’ve seen People before. It’s obvious in their reactions. I wonder who. Send the linguists out. Suit them up.”

  He had been noticing some smells and headed towards a narrow moving set of small steps. This would be tricky. The Aliens moved out of his way. He carefully timed it then moved his front feet on then his back feet. He grabbed the rails with his hands, careful to swing his tail up out of the way. Getting off was easier if a little undignified. He was right. An eating room. Excellent.

  He moved the thing these Aliens sat on, out of the way and balanced on his hind feet and substantial tail next to the table. That flimsy thing wouldn’t have held him even if he had fitted on it, which he couldn’t. Tiny creatures. The leader here had followed him and was saying something to the Aliens by the food. A few moments later, one came over with small samples of several foods and another with samples of liquid. He put samples into the analyser, rejected some and started to taste. He loved this part. The linguists would now do their part and he would stay here and have fun. Anything was better than ship food. These Aliens weren’t daring to deny him. They were falling over themselves to obey him. He wondered what People had made them so obedient.

  The linguists appeared. He beckoned for the Alien to go with them and left them to it.

  Several happy hours passed while the supply of food and drink kept coming. The variety was very good but he had to leave a lot of it for a while as these creatures were so anxious to appease him that a lot of the food was served while still hot. After a while, they had got the point and served it all cold. There was a large variety and he noticed a lot of it was being brought in. From other manufacturing plants? It was primitive though. Some of it was unprocessed! Yuk!

  The linguists nearby were making progress, that was obvious and he noticed that more and more the conversation was starting to flow. He was displeased as he saw the Aliens had offered the linguists some food; some of his favourite foods too. Finally, he decided he had had enough and he headed back to his ship. It was getting dark outside. He couldn’t eat any more. Time to rest and digest it all.

  As he returned to his ship, he noticed signs the local scientists were desperate to get a look at him. They had what looked like recording devices and lights but some crowd controllers or competitors were trying to keep them at a distance. Some of the recording devices were on poles to get over the crowds. Ingenious! He entered the ship going to the bridge.

  “Still no hostile behaviour,” said the Attacker.

  “Any military aircraft?”

  “None that seem aggressive. Aircraft are now landing here but mostly smaller ones. It appears some larger craft that were on course to come here are landing at other places, mostly this one,” he indicated a place south, fairly nearby.

  “Yes, they have been well taught but I wonder by who?” He proceeded on to his room, paused at the Checker and again at the Cleaner, then entered his cabin.

  Two shifts later he arose from his bag, went through the Cleaner, through the Eliminator and up to the bridge.

  “Any problems?”

  “No. All quiet. The large aircraft left and came back again. Others continue to land and take off but mostly small ones. The crowds are bigg
er but peaceful and being kept well back by the locals.”

  Paswalda put his shield back on anyway and headed out for breakfast. This time, his favourite foods and drinks appeared quickly and all cold. Very pleasing how fast these little Aliens learned. Some time later he finished and headed over to the Linguists. They looked exhausted. Very good. He liked his staff to take work seriously.

  “Well?”

  “We think we have a working knowledge of their language, enough for our purposes.”

  “What have you told them?”

  “Nothing, we left that to you.” She handed the Translator over.

  Paswalda faced the Aliens. He waited for respectful silence.

  “I have been sent here to take you for political and trade talks. There are some People who have been wanting to meet you for some time but have been waiting for you to develop more. I have been paid to take ten of you but we did not know your size. You are a lot smaller than my clients allowed for. I am prepared to take twenty for the same price. I was held up so I am in a hurry. If you want to come, you must be ready by this time tomorrow. You will need to take all your own food and what else you need. You will each need everything for about four of your months. I should get you back here well within that. You can bring more of your people if you want and can pay me with trade goods. I can take another 400 of your size if you can allow for rough conditions. You could bring traders, scientists, politicians, anyone you want. You can bring your children. Children are popular and it would show good faith. It would show trust. I will allow one of you on board now to look at where you would be staying so you can see what you need to bring. One can come now with my crew member,” he indicated another one of his own species.

  A small Alien nearby quickly stepped forward and said,

  “I will go.”

  The two left as pandemonium broke out. Paswalda decided this would be a good time for him to leave too so he followed.

  The small Alien went through the Cleaner and Checker, having its bag checked on the way through. They insisted on removing some of the objects they didn’t like.

  SETI

  While Paswalda thought his ship was undetected, astronomers were at full alert as his ship was spotted and tracked as it passed Mars. Sarah MacDonald watched the awesome story unfold beginning at nearly midnight on 17th January when amateur astronomers in Iceland first detected the object that approached, then braked and went into Earth orbit. Asleep when the news first broke, she made up for it by almost living in one of the abandoned buildings of SETI, watching developments as SETI locked everything they had on the object, while they and other astronomers, many of them amateurs, watched it and searched for others.

  Founded in 1984, privately owned, funded by donations and originally a growing body of scientists and support staff, SETI, or Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence, had recently had 250 paid staff but went into decline as the finance yet again dried up around the world. Now, SETI ran with almost all volunteers. It took millions simply to maintain all the buildings and equipment, pay the bills and exist. There was little money for wages.

  Nearly yelling in frustration, Sarah, SETI’s director, and her Team watched as on 21st February, first Germany, then America repelled a landing of probable Extraterrestrials.

  “Fools, imbeciles! I don’t believe this! What stupidity and ignorance.” Sarah was nearly hoarse. “Where are they going now? Thank God they aren’t giving up on us. What speed are they travelling at?”

  “I can’t calculate it. They’re moving so fast! We keep losing them,” gasped Alan, her second in command since he had reluctantly had to take a medical retirement. Sarah looked at him in concern. He was so breathless these days.

  Everyone was glued to whatever computer terminal they could get near as they tried to track them. “They’ve gone over Iceland,” someone called out.

  “Siberia’s spotted them!” yelled Nanelle. “Heading south!”

  “Japan has them.”

  “Hawaii’s tracking them.”

  “Australia’s got them!”

  “Auckland says they’ve just passed overhead.”

  “Oakland?!”

  “No, Auckland, New Zealand.”

  “Where’s New Zealand?” someone muttered.

  “Down by Australia,” said Alan. “They’re slowing. Braking?”

  “They’ve lost them! Where are they?” cried Nanelle. “Can anyone see them?” she asked on the ‘All Stations’ band.

  “They’ve landed in Christchurch,” said a shocked voice.

  “Who is this?” asked Alan. “SETI here.”

  “Christchurch here. New Zealand. They’ve landed at the airport. They’re down.”

  “What’s happening?” said Sarah leaning over the mike. “SETI here,” she added. So much for protocol—everyone was forgetting to identify themselves. “Is anyone shooting at them?”

  An amused male voice answered, “This is New Zealand. We have stuff-all air force. Our cops aren’t armed except for stunners. Not a shot was fired. Our air force, what there is of it, is very wisely staying on the ground. This thing is huge. It’s covering a quarter of the airport. Oh, and it has anti-gravity. It landed on legs. No wheels. No jets. It must be anti-gravity. We saw it come down. Oh, this is the Control Tower here, at the airport.”

  “SETI here. What’s it look like?” asked Sarah. “Details please!”

  “It’s a reddish, what? terracotta the women tell me, irregular sort of roundish rectangular shape with a flat bottom. It’s got bulges and stuff everywhere all over it. It’s huge, it’s like a massive cruise liner sitting on the tarmac. No windows, I can’t see in.”

  Sarah looked over to Alan. “Alan, get on the phone, book 25 tickets on the next flight to Christchurch, New Zealand. And let me know what time it leaves. Nanelle, phone till you get 25 or so that are ready to go. Get them to go straight to the airport then get Barry to help you, load up the luggage. Load it all. Bring back the luggage for those who are not going. Oh, and Nanelle, please book us motel beds. As close to the airport as possible.”

  Within four hours of the landing, Sarah and twenty-two of the SETI group, were on their way to New Zealand. Sarah had made it a rule that a minimum of 25 people were to be packed, their bags at SETI, and ready to go at two hours notice. Twenty-two was good enough. The luggage was sent to LAX and the Team met at the airport. During the long delay for security clearance, Sarah phoned ahead, and managed to make contact with the harassed airport manager.

  “My name is Sarah MacDonald. I’m bringing a full SETI team with me. We didn’t have time for visas but then neither did the people we want to meet. Can you have a word with New Zealand immigration on our behalf? I’ll email you all our details to pass on to them.”

  Alan puffed to a halt and sat down, listening, wishing he could smoke here, wishing he had exercised more and eaten a lot less, wishing his heart was in better nick. He’d been wishing most of that for decades. He watched as Sarah organised everyone, checked luggage and checked people. She was a gift to SETI, he thought. She was their chief fundraiser as well as their director. That was the first time Alan had ever seen her in action. She worked a room like a professional. She had an almost photographic memory, was vivacious, caring, had a great sense of humour and was a stubborn fighter. When people spoke to her she listened. She did not look around the room planning her next move, did not trump what they said with her own experience or considerable knowledge and treated people as if they were worth listening to. It was a gift. It was also her personality. She would have made a brilliant counsellor or psychiatrist, he thought.

  She was a somewhat puzzling contradiction to him at times. Sarah was not concerned with image so she avoided its trappings. It wasn’t how successful she looked to others that concerned her which was in stark contrast to him. To her, what mattered was what she and her followers could achieve. She also wasn’t acquisitive. Her car was 15 years old and he wouldn’t be seen dead owning a car that old. But she owned her o
wn home freehold which was more than he did. Four divorces and six kids had seen to that. She lived frugally because material possessions didn’t matter to her. He sighed—he could spend in a month what would keep her for a year. Frugal was a word no one would apply to him. She didn’t accept her salary but ploughed it back into SETI, another thing he wouldn’t do. She had unintentionally made herself financially independent by writing and publishing books, articles and lectures. Her writing was well researched, brilliantly written, topical, easy to read and fascinating. He had read most of it.

  Unlike his, her house was untidy and her housework undone because she seldom got around to it. There was always something more important to do. Her teenage daughter Katy didn’t help, being somewhat more untidy than her mother; and a lot less organized. In contrast, Sarah’s work space was tidy and well organized because she deplored inefficiency and ran a tight ship. Sarah’s dream was her job; searching for Extra Terrestrials. She was dedicated, tireless and determined.

  Physically she wasn’t imposing and definitely was not his type. Too short at about five foot eight, a brown-eyed brunette, where he liked women a bit shorter than his five foot eleven, and blonde and blue-eyed. Sarah was good looking but not a beauty, a bit plump where he liked them slim with big boobs, but when she spoke, people listened like they were doing now. She was a natural speaker, with that beautiful voice; velvety but powerful, charismatic. She carried people along with her. Under her leadership, SETI had been first in recovery mode and for the last few years had been growing and expanding. Sarah had plans.