Christopher Nuttall - Invasion

“The aliens want us to join them,” LePic said, finally. He’d clearly taken the time to go through some of the documents before meeting with Philippe. “Do you think that we should accept their offer?”

Philippe took a breath. “No,” he said, as calmly as he could. “I think that it would be a bad idea, both for France and for the world.”

LePic lifted an eyebrow. “Do you really think that the country can continue like this?”

“It’s not going to make a difference,” Philippe said. “Even if the aliens stopped harassing us tomorrow, how long is it going to be before we can rebuild everything they destroyed? Years, at best. Submitting to the aliens won’t do more than putting us firmly in their camp, which means that the entire human race might lose the war.”

“The war looks pretty hopeless already,” LePic countered. “I hate to admit it, but it is a reality that must be faced, squarely. If the Americans cannot defeat the aliens, there is no way that we can do so. I have ordered the mass production of additional nuclear weapons, but even with them…”

“Getting them up to the aliens might be a problem,” Philippe conceded, ruefully. The American internet had been full of people condemning their President for whimping out — their words — and not using nukes when launching the attack on Texas. In their view, scorching Texas down to bedrock would have killed all the aliens and improved the real estate value no end, a point of view that ignored all of the humans — American citizens — who would have been killed as well. “If they come down here…”

They shared a single thought. France had a long history of resistance to outside occupation, but it was as chequered as any other such history, and, at the moment, France was more likely to tear itself apart than fight the aliens. They’d have no choice, but to organise an insurgency — knowing that the population might turn their weapons on the government, rather than the aliens.

“We don’t have a choice,” Philippe said, as forcefully as he dared. “Mr President, the aliens are not humans in suits, but… something other .”

“You sound like one of those National Front bastards talking about the Arabs,” LePic said, toying with him. “What makes the aliens so different?”

Philippe ignored the jibe. He’d never had much time for the National Front. “When the Nazis invaded France, there were Frenchwomen who had affairs with German soldiers and often became quite fond of them…”

“And had their hair cut off afterwards,” LePic pointed out.

“The Germans and us are sexually compatible,” Philippe said. “Given time, Europe might blend into one civilisation, one society, with children born to mixed parentage. Hell, given enough time, the same might be true of the entire world. The entire human race might abandon such follies as racism and sexism — maybe even nationalism — to unite as one race.”

“And maybe the horse will learn to sing,” LePic said. He sounded disturbed, now. “Carry on…”

“In an alien world, humans will be marked as forever human,” Philippe pressed. “They claim to have a billion settlers on their mothership and, just by landing anywhere, they will have a massive influence on the world. In time, they might take over the entire planet, or at least the important parts of the world… and create a nightmare where humans are permanent second-class citizens. We will never be able to breed with them, or create a new race, but we will be doomed to permanent inferiority. How could we reach a position of power and responsibility when we will be forever marked as human?”

He paused. “The damned SS actually recruited Frenchmen and even Russians,” he added. “Why should the aliens even allow us to do that? Aliens will have the best jobs. Aliens will control all the weapons and defences. Aliens will accept us into their faith, but God damn me if they ever give any of us any control, or even a priesthood! If we surrender now, we are going to be under them forever.”

“Nothing lasts forever,” LePic said. The confidence in his voice was a surprise. “Their control will weaken, eventually.”

“Why?” Philippe asked bleakly. “They don’t have to worry about little details like internal revolt from their own… and if we do, we’d be crushed. At best, we will be second-class citizens. At worst… at worst, we will be their slaves forever.”

“A powerful argument,” LePic concluded. There was a bitter helplessness in his voice. “But then, really, what can we do? If we fight, we get squashed. If we surrender, we get melded into their self-image. What can we do?”

The High Priest and his immediate subordinates gathered below a massive image of Earth, floating in space below the Guiding Star . It had been a busy few cycles, but once the main thrust of the American assault had been blunted, the warriors had been able to cut up the remaining insurgents who dared to show their faces. The occupied zone was peaceful again, for now.

“We have studied the human writings extensively,” the researcher informed him, after they had briefly discussed the situation on the ground. “The human religions, their dominant religions, all appeared in the same general area, here.” She touched a place that humans would have identified as the Middle East. “Their dominant religions — Judaism, Christianity and Islam — are actually related and have their centres in that area, apart from this centre here.”

Her finger touched Italy. “Other religions exist on Earth, but they are less likely to conflict directly with the Truth,” she added. “They can be dealt with later. This part of the world has an added advantage in that it is the source for much of their oil, although it escapes us as to why they have allowed the dependency to continue when they could build solar platforms in high orbit and get all the power they need…”

“Humans are more inclined to consume resources than ourselves,” an Arbiter said. The scorn in his voice was unmistakable. He might have been awed by how much each individual human had, but as a race, they were remarkably poor. “They do not practice self-discipline when it comes to deciding what they want and what they need. Their failure to ensure proper use of resources has crippled their development as a race.”

The High Priest said nothing. He could never have admitted it to anyone, least of all her, but he missed Researcher Femala badly. She hadn’t been afraid to tell him what he needed to know; after all, she had a certain freedom from most consequences. The researchers were right about how important the Middle East was to the humans, but it wasn’t as if there was much else there to recommend it, apart from the holy cities. The Inquisitors would demand that they were occupied or destroyed, in order to continue the task of destroying the human religions, but what would that do to the human determination to resist? Captured humans down on the surface of Earth had sworn that they intended to avenge attacks on their religious buildings… and if they went after the very centres of their religions, what sort of attacks would that provoke?

The Inquisitors, of course, wouldn’t care. They would see it as a chance to root out more human fanatics and burn them all down. The High Priest believed in the mission as much as anyone else, but he didn’t want to rule over a charnel house, with millions of humans slaughtered without being given a fair chance to convert. It was possible that the ambassadors would convince their respective nations to convert en masse , but that didn’t really seem to be a human concept.

But there were no other places that held such significance. “We will move against their Holy Cities,” he ordered, finally. He looked over at the War Leader. “You will prepare the secondary landing force for deployment and the capture of their Holy Cities and oil wells. Once they are secure, we will begin the conquest of their hearts and souls.”