Christopher Nuttall - The Trojan Horse

“I am Ambassador Haffash of the Galactic Federation,” the alien said. His voice was flat, almost — but not quite — atonal. There were few hints of emotion, something that puzzled Jayne until she realised that the alien computers were almost certainly checking, rechecking and updating their language databanks. The alien sounded… pleased? It was impossible to tell for sure. “In the name of the association of intelligent beings that have formed our unity, I welcome the human race into the galactic community. May you find friends and cousins among the stars, as so many have done before you.”

The crowd burst into cheers. Jayne watched as the alien turned and waved at the crowd, one oddly-jointed hand passing through the air. Just how closely had they studied humanity, Jayne wondered, to know what that gesture meant?

Once the remaining members of the welcome committee had greeted the alien — the other two aliens were not introduced, something that puzzled Jayne — the Secretary-General of the United Nations invited the aliens to follow him into the UN Building. The aliens, who were still looking at the crowd, turned and followed, their necks twisting oddly in a way that would have proven fatal to any human neck. As they passed the press pool — the reporters, for once, were silent, staring at the aliens in front of them — Jayne caught a whiff of scent from one of the aliens. He smelled hot and spicy, yet something about the scent made her hair stand on end. She told herself that she was imagining it. Who expected an alien to smell pleasant?

Puzzled, uneasy despite herself, she followed the aliens into the UN Building.

New York

USA, Day 5

The wallflowers — the collection of aides, secretaries and mistresses that followed their masters everywhere — stood pressed against the walls of the General Assembly Hall, watching their political masters from a distance. They were joined by the Ambassadors to the United Nations, who had been displaced by their respective Heads of State, and hundreds of unarmed security staff, who universally shared a horror at the possible danger to their charges and their outrage at being ordered to come unarmed. Toby understood their fears, but there was little choice. The last thing anyone needed was an incident when the Ambassador from the Galactic Federation was shot dead on Earth. It was the kind of event that tended to start wars.

He looked around the room, and then fixed his gaze on the alien Ambassador. The General Assembly Hall had a seating capacity of 1800 and it was full to bursting, creating a fire risk that had — inevitably — added to the fears of the security officers. Above the podium, the UN emblem glittered in the light, a reminder of the hopes of those who had founded the UN — hopes that had been brutally dashed by reality, just like the League of Nations before the Second World War. The alien didn’t seem impressed, but it was impossible to read the alien face. For all they knew, an alien ‘smile’ could really be a frown. There was no reason why an alien race had to share the same visual cues as an American-born human.

The Secretary-General returned to his place in the Assembly as the alien slowly mounted the podium. It was clear that they’d studied the UN; the alien escorts — or maybe they were aides, or security personnel — didn’t show any sign of surprise or confusion. Toby risked a quick glance at his palmtop and wasn’t too surprised to see that the latest electronic detection gear developed by the NSA couldn’t tell if the aliens were exchanging secret messages or not. The chances were that the Galactics would possess technology centuries beyond human science, although perhaps not beyond imagination. One resource the human race most definitely possessed was years of science-fiction writing to study for ideas and inspirations.

Just for a moment, Toby caught the bright red eyes of the alien Ambassador. They were almost hypnotic, seeming to draw him towards the alien and yet refuse to reveal anything about the alien’s motives, or purpose in visiting Earth. The alien briefly revealed his sharp teeth and Toby shivered. There was no way to avoid the conclusion that the alien was a predator. They would have been on top of the food chain on their planet, just as humanity sat at the top of Earth’s food chain. And anyone capable of getting into space would be intelligent, powerful — and willing to use that power in their own interests. Who knew what the Galactics really had in mind for humanity?

It wasn’t uncommon for speeches at the UN to be interrupted with shouts and walk-outs. Only a few years ago, a lengthy speech by an Iranian delegate claiming that the Holocaust had never taken place had resulted in a mass walk-out by Western delegates. Toby had a feeling that no one would walk out of this speech, no matter what the aliens said. The CIA’s analysts had wondered if the alien desire to meet with humanity’s leaders represented a determination to talk to whoever really made the decisions on Earth, or was a subtle slap at Earth’s population. Ambassadors were expendable; they could be ordered home, their careers destroyed, without starting a war. It was much harder to avoid a diplomatic incident if a Head of State had started it. And the alien, as exotic as he was, was only a mere Ambassador. But God only knew how the Galactic Federation would respond to any mistreatment of their representatives. They might not be as willing as President Carter to allow an insult to go unpunished… and they had seventeen starships orbiting the Earth, a silent reminder of their power.

Silence fell as the alien opened his mouth. The voder — it couldn’t be anything, but a translator and speaker — started to blink as the alien spoke. There had been no way to slip a microphone near the podium without alerting the UN’s security force, but some of the cameras at the rear of the chamber were actually designed and operated by NSA technicians. If they were lucky, they might pick up samples of the alien language and start humanity on the long road towards deciphering their words. Being dependent upon alien translators was a dangerously insecure position.

“In the name of the Galactic Federation, thank you for welcoming us to your world,” he said. The voice seemed to becoming more natural as the voder — there had to be a hell of a translation program buried within the small device — adapted to Earth’s conditions. “It is always a delight to encounter another intelligent race. There are many hundreds of races within the Federation, yet they all add something unique to the melange of cultures shared by the sentient races of the galaxy. You have wondered if you are truly alone in the universe. Know now that you are far from alone. The stars wait for you.”

There was a long pause. “The translation program we have developed is adaptive, but it can make mistakes,” the Ambassador added. “We apologise for any confusion caused by the translation. We will not take offense if you wish clarification of any matters raised during this meeting and we hope that you will extend us the same courtesy. The Federation has extensive experience in contacting new races and welcoming them into the fold, but each race poses its own problems which require individual solutions. We look forward to the day when your race joins us in the endless quest to seek out new worlds and civilisations, boldly going into the endless unknown.”

Toby thought fast. The aliens had admitted a weakness, which was odd. There were human cultures that saw admitting weakness as somehow intolerable, as if it hurt their pride to be thought less than perfect. And yet part of him admired the aliens for being willing to admit that they were far from all-powerful. Or… had they warned of translation errors to allow them to claim a mistranslation if humanity took offense at their words? He looked up at the unreadable red eyes and shivered. It was easy to believe in friendly aliens in the abstract, but in person… there was something about the Galactics that alerted every ancient sense in his mind. The aliens were dangerous.