Christopher Nuttall: The Trojan Horse

He clicked the remote and the channel shifted to another program. A presenter — a dark-skinned woman with a brilliant smile — was interviewing a set of religious types, all wearing their chosen faith’s clothing. The Colonel counted several Christians, a Jew, a Muslim and a Hindu, the latter three seemingly less comfortable than the former. Or perhaps he was just imagining it. No one with any sense liked being interviewed, even by a friendly interviewer.

“And what,” the woman was asking, “does the Church make of our new visitors?”

“Well, we’re very excited,” the priest said, in a strong Irish accent. He had short white hair and an affable smile, although it was clear that he spent most of his time behind a desk, rather than in the open air. “We have always known that there are other entities out there — angels and devils, for example. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the aliens shared the same belief in the Lord Jesus Christ, or in the death and resurrection of the Son of God? Would that not prove that the Church was granted access to a fundamental truth that transcended religion and politics?”

The interviewer frowned, and then smiled brilliantly. “I assume, then, that you don’t agree with the Witnesses?”

“I cannot claim to be an expert on the claims of Erich von Däniken,” the priest said, with some irritation, “but I find it hard to believe that the Galactics meddled with our genes to create the modern human race. The only father our world has is God.”

“Precisely,” the Mullah injected. “The Prophet Jesus was a real historical person. His existence is not disproved by the claims that he was the Son of God. God was the only one to create life — we must accept that he created the aliens as well as ourselves.”

The Colonel rolled his eyes as the discussion turned acrimonious. Years ago, when he’d been very bored, he’d read one of Erich von Däniken’s books claiming that ancient alien astronauts had created the human race. The claim had never been proven — extraordinary claims required extraordinary evidence — and indeed it was fairly easy to refute most of them without resource to specialist knowledge. He would have sooner snoozed his way through Atlas Shrugged than pick up another book about ancient space gods from the stars.

But some people did believe his claims, as if the absence of any real proof only illuminated the truth hiding behind the falsehoods. They’d taken the arrival of the Galactics as proof that there were benevolent space gods watching over the human race, taking it for granted that the Galactics had arrived at Earth to introduce a whole new post-scarcity society. The Colonel hadn’t watched many science-fiction serials on television in his life, but even he had heard of the utopian United Federation of Planets, or the ultra-advanced Culture. There was just no proof that the alien Galactic Federation intended to bring anything to Earth, or that their gifts — if indeed they brought gifts — would be helpful. Introducing any new technology risked upsetting the previous applecart, an excuse that had often been used to retard development.

The television picture changed to a live feed from New York. There were still two days to go before the aliens landed at the UN, but the city was already buzzing with life. A massive crowd of teenagers — hippies , the Colonel thought in disgust — had gathered at the edges of the security cordon, screaming out a welcome to the alien diplomats. The cynical side of the Colonel’s mind wondered if the NYPD had allowed the protesters so close because they might have shouted themselves out by the time the aliens finally arrived.

He scowled as the camera focused on a group of youngsters — and middle-aged men wearing long hair and handmade clothes — bearing signs proclaiming the aliens to be gods. It seemed absurd, to him, to claim that the aliens were anything other than another tribe, although one a little different from most. The Witnesses — many of whom claimed to have been granted visions of aliens long before the starships had arrived — were inviting others to believe as they did. New York being New York, other groups had arrived to protest their blasphemous claims. The camera focused in on a punch-up between a group of Witnesses and a handful of locals, with NYPD cops moving in to separate the two groups and impose order.

Irritated, he clicked the channel again. “…Arrival of the aliens has caused some unrest within the Middle East,” a different announcer said. “The belief that the aliens were a Western hoax has faded, with mass marches on the streets of Cairo, Riyadh and Baghdad demanding that the Middle East be fully-represented in talks with the aliens. Official statements from Middle Eastern Governments have failed to quell the protests, but it is notable that terrorism and violent unrest has actually fallen sharply…”

“Colonel,” a voice said, “they’re ready for you.”

The Colonel nodded, smiling up at his youngest daughter. Susan was in her late thirties, but still a beauty, so much so that he’d worried every time a neighbouring boy had come around to ask her for a date. He’d made a point of polishing an assault rifle on the kitchen table, reminding the young hopeful that he wouldn’t wait for the cops if he believed that his daughter had been hurt. And then he’d had to resist the temptation to kick young Albert in the shins as he escorted Susan down the aisle to give her away. Albert might have been a Marine, but he was a good man. And their children were lovely.

“Thank you,” he said, with the unfailing courtesy he always showed to the fairer sex. “Have you heard from Albert?”

Susan was from a military family. She’d known what it was like to wait at home while her father and brothers went off to war before she married Albert. Even so, she couldn’t conceal her concern — her fear for his safety — from her father. Albert’s unit had been stationed near Helmand in Afghanistan and he’d been due to rotate home for leave, but no one knew what was happening now that the aliens had arrived. All military personnel had been called to duty and there were even stories that the reserves would be called up, although so far nothing had been made official. The politicians were still too worried about making the wrong impression to the aliens. They wouldn’t want to convince the Galactic Federation that humans were too violent to be trusted in space.

“Nothing since his last email,” she said. “They were saying that they might be redeployed stateside, but nothing concrete…”

The Colonel nodded. Rumours spread through the military faster than anything else, but very few of them were reliable. But then, if the balloon did go up, Albert and his unit would be isolated and unable to return home. The aliens would bombard their positions from orbit, if they bothered themselves with a handful of American troops on the other side of the planet. Afghanistan had been unimportant to the United States for decades, before the Russians had invaded; how much less important would it be to aliens who had crossed uncounted light years to reach Earth?

“I’m coming,” he said. “Tell Jennie to send in the food in an hour or so.”

“Of course, Father,” Susan said, sardonically. “I hear and obey.”

“You’re not so old that I can’t wallop you,” the Colonel said. He started to walk out of the room, and then paused. “Tell Albert that we are thinking of him and praying for his safe return.”

Shaking his head, he walked down into the common room. He had no idea what the farm’s original designers had intended for the room, but it served as a convenient place for the group to meet. They’d never given themselves a name or a purpose. It had suited them better to remain an amorphous group with no official standing of any kind. Official positions meant that they would be noticed and notice meant trouble. It hadn’t been that long since another survivalist group had run into trouble by possessing weapons that were — technically — illegal. The fact that the difference between legal and illegal weapons was minor hadn’t impressed the judge. Colonel Sanderson loved his country, but if there was ever a long period of civil unrest he would take unholy delight in shooting down some of the agents of the federal government. Didn’t anyone ever read the Constitution anymore?