Christopher Nuttall: The Trojan Horse

“I’m detailing an escort,” Garland said. “The General will want to see you, kid. You did good.”

General Thomas had set up his command post on the outskirts of Washington. The news was coming in from all over the world. Most of the aliens had surrendered, along with their pod people, to the local resistance. Some countries had gone all the way down into chaos, but those that had survived would have their own tame aliens. The alien prisoners, at first report, seemed to have no qualms about sharing what they knew with their captors. They were probably afraid to face the human race after all they’d done.

The remaining alien starships had surrendered after their warship had been destroyed, leaving the human race with the problem of getting troops onboard before it occurred to one of the aliens to ram the planet and ensure that the human race didn’t survive long enough to threaten their empire. One of their other bases had included a handful of shuttles, which had been used to move SF forces up to the starships and take command. A handful of other Pacifists had come out of the woodwork, helping the humans to take control of the ships. The defector’s final gift to humanity. Codes that could be used to make contact with the others in his group.

General Thomas shook his head. The alien government was falling apart, now that McGreevy was dead and her collaborators being hounded out of office or lynched on the streets. A new government would have to be established quickly, or large parts of the country wouldn’t survive the winter. And then they would have to bury the dead and start rebuilding the country.

But they’d won, he told himself. The human race had won. And the Snake Empire was in for a nasty shock when they encountered the human race for a second time.

So why did it feel so much like defeat?

Washington DC

USA, Day 100

“Congratulations, Mr President.”

Toby scowled. He had never wanted to be President and he had never liked the thought of being in the public eye. He’d felt much more comfortable in the shadows, but President Hollinger had lasted barely long enough to appoint Toby as his Vice President before falling to whatever the aliens had done to him to make him leave his position on cue. His funeral had been quiet and low-key, as he had requested. Toby had seen to it personally.

It had been far from the only funeral. Hundreds of thousands of Americans had died in the time between the arrival of the Snakes and the destruction of their warships. The surviving Snakes had had to be moved to a compound out in Nevada to prevent them from being lynched by angry mobs, a consideration that hadn’t been extended to their collaborators. Toby had underestimated the power of mob rule, when a population had broken free of its shackles and set out to avenge itself on its tormentors. The collaborators had been lynched in the streets, hung from lampposts or thrashed out of town, often with the cooperation of local police forces. Even the pod people hadn’t been immune, although there had been some sympathy for the brainwashed tools of the Snakes. They’d been moved to their own compound until something could be done for them. Toby refused to believe that they couldn’t be freed one day.

He shook his head, tired. The American Government had been devastated by the aliens. Many familiar names and faces had been killed, either by the aliens or by McGreevy’s henchmen; others had been brainwashed into becoming pod people. A number of politicians who’d supported McGreevy had found themselves lynched in office, or forced to resign and flee, looking for a safety that had proved to be elusive. Toby had found himself a President without a Government, one that had needed to be rebuilt almost from scratch. It hadn’t been an easy task. No one trusted the government these days,

And America was one of the better-off countries. China and Russia were lost in civil war. The population of the Middle East was still slaughtering one another. Europe and Latin America, where there had been heavy fighting, was suffering from food riots and a near-total breakdown of public order. America had been gravely weakened by the fighting; many overseas bases had been withdrawn before the Snakes revealed their true nature, ships and planes had been decommissioned as part of the price for joining an imaginary Galactic Federation. It looked as if there would never be order in the rest of the world. There were parts of America that were still on the verge of social collapse, even with the help of alien technology. At least they were no longer dependent on oil.

Toby’s father, whose body had presumably been vaporised when the nuke detonated, would have found it amusing. The Federal Government as it had been was now a thing of the past. Even if Toby had been inclined to resurrect it, the public would have refused to accept it, something the new breed of Congressmen and Senators were making quite clear. The population would never allow Washington to hold so much power again, not as long as the scars from the brief period of occupation and collaboration lasted. There would be no more government agencies thinking that they were above the law. The Castle Doctrine had been resurrected with a vengeance.

“I wonder if you should congratulate me,” Toby admitted. “I feel that there are times when everything is surging out of control.”

Jason Lucas shrugged. Toby had appointed him Secretary of Alien Affairs, a title that managed to imply that Jason had been spying for the resistance all along. It hadn’t stopped some of the more enthusiastic patriots from calling for his murder, with the net result that Jason spent most of his time out in Nevada, studying the Snakes and learning what he could from the few who were prepared to talk to humanity. Unlocking the secrets of alien technology would take years, but Toby knew that they had no choice. The Snakes were still out there — and God alone knew what else was heading towards humanity, out of the silent sky. Toby intended to be ready to meet them when they finally stumbled across Earth.

The Snakes had started constructing a lunar mining base, using human technology, by the time they’d been defeated. Toby had been quick to see the advantages of keeping and even expanding the base, using the captured alien ships to transport men and materials from the Earth to the Moon — and transport raw materials from the asteroids back to Earth. It would be several years before Earth could build its own shuttles, but once that particular barrier was cracked there would be an explosion into space. A few decades of development and humanity would be more than ready for the Snakes. A few centuries… and who knew? Humanity might be far stronger than the Snakes could ever hope to be.

And then… they could make contact with the Pacifists, try and bring the Snake Empire down from within…

But that was a dream for the future. Toby knew that he might not live to see that day, the day when humanity would avenge itself upon the Snakes. All he could do was prepare for it as best as he could. Whatever else happened, the human race would not be fooled again. The next aliens they met would be encountered when humanity was in a position of strength.

“I think you’re doing fine,” Jason said. “Perhaps we needed this harsh lesson.”

Toby looked up, surprised.

“SETI thought that an alien race that managed to reach space would have to be peaceful,” Jason reminded him. “No one would come ninety billion light years to start a fight, they said; it seemed impossible to believe that they would be as violent as us. And that belief almost killed us. If they’d kept their true nature hidden for a few more months, who knows how badly they could have fucked us?”