Гарри Гаррисон - There Won't Be War

“Are you trying to tell me,” Vargas said, “that these alien moths are communicating by Morse Code?”

“I’m afraid so, sir,” the communications officer said. “But it’s not my fault, sir. Furthermore, these moths are acting like a single entity.”

“What did the moth entity say to you?”

“It said, ‘Take your leader to me.’”

Vargas nodded. That made sense. Aliens were always saying things like that.

“What did you tell it?” Vargas asked.

“I said we’d get back to him.”

“You did good,” Vargas said. “General Gatt will want to hear about this.”

“Hot damn,” Gatt said. “Moths, huh? Not exactly what we were looking for, but definitely a beginning. Let’s get down there and talk with this—you couldn’t call him a guy, could you?”

Down in the cave, Gatt and Vargas were able to communicate with the moth entity with the assistance of the Chief Signalman. It was an eerie moment. The Earth-men’s great battle lanterns cast lurid shadows across the rocky floor. In the cave opening, flickering in a ghostly fashion, the moths spun and fluttered, darted and dived, all cooperating to produce Morse signals.

“Hello,” Gatt said. “We’re from Earth.”

“Yes, I know,” the Moth entity said.

“How’d you know that?”

“The other creature told me.”

“What other creature?”

“I believe he is referring to me,” a voice said from deep in the cave.

It startled the Earthmen. Every gun trained on the cave entrance. The soldiers watched, some breathing shallowly and others with bated breath. And then, through the swirling mists and the multi-colored brilliance of the searchlights, a figure like that of a small, oddly-shaped man stepped into the light.

The alien was small and skinny and entirely bald. His ears were pointed and he had small antennae growing out of his forehead. Everybody knew at once that he was an alien. If there was any doubt of that, it was soon expunged when the alien opened his mouth. For out of that rosebud-shaped orifice came words in recognizably colloquial English, the very best kind.

Gatt directed the Telegrapher to ask, “First of all, Alien, how come you speak our language?”

The alien replied, “We have long been in contact with your race, for we are those you refer to as Flying Saucer people. When we first established a presence on your world of Earth, a foolish clerical error led us to believe that Morse was your universal language. By the time we discovered our error, Morse was firmly established in our language schools.”

“Oh. That accounts for it, then,” Gatt said. “It would have been too much of a coincidence for you people to have developed the English language on your own.”

“I quite agree,” the alien replied.

“At least we have the language problem out of the way,” Gatt said. “We can’t go on referring to you as ‘The Alien.’ What shall we call you?”

“My people are called Magellenics in your language,” the Alien said. “And we all have the same last name. So you could either call me Magellenic, which is also the name of my planet, or Hurtevert, which is my first name.”

“Hurtevurt Magellenic,” Gatt said. “Quite a mouthful. I suppose there’s an explanation for why you’re called ‘Magellenic’ I mean we have a word like that in our own language.”

“We borrowed the word from your language,” Hurtevert said. “We liked the sound of it better than our previous name for the planet, Hzuuutz-kril.”

“Ah. Makes sense. Now, is this planet your home world? If so, where’s everybody else?”

“It is not my home world,” Hurtevert said. “This is a world populated solely by intelligent moths. It is far from my home world.”

“Whatcha doing here? Exploring or something?”

“No, General. I was sent here as a Watcher by the members of my underground. I was watching for your great ship.”

“How’d you know we’d be coming?”

“We didn’t. We just sent out Watchers in case somebody does came along. You see, my people, the Magellenics, are in a whole lot of trouble.”

Gatt turned to Vargas and remarked, “You know, it isn’t enough we are the first Earthmen in history to contact aliens, these have to be aliens with problems, yet.”

“I don’t think that possibility was ever forecast,” Vargas said.

“Well,” Gatt said, “we may as well hear this creature’s problems in comfort. This cave is decidedly chilly, and I don’t believe we brought along any refreshment.” He turned to the alien, and, speaking through his Telegrapher, said, “How about coming aboard my ship and we’ll talk it over? I presume you breathe oxygen and drink liquids and all that.”

“I have long missed your excellent intoxicants,” Hurtevert said. “Yes, lead the way, my leader.”

“This is starting out well,” Gatt remarked to Vargas as they started back to the ship.

When he was comfortable, with a glass of Irish whiskey in his hand, and a Slim Jim to munch on, Hurtevert said, “Long have we of Planet Magellenic lived as free entities. But now our planet has been conquered by a cruel foe whose customs are not ours,”

“Somebody took over your planet, did they?” Gatt remarked. “Tell us about it.”

Hurtevert struck an orator’s pose and declaimed, “Dank they were and glaucous-eyed, the ugly and bad-smelling Greems who attacked us from a far star-system. They came down in spider-shaped ships, and red ruin followed in their wake. Not content with murder, rapine, and pillage, they humiliated us by making us worship a giant ragwort.”

“That’s really low,” Vargas said.

“All in all it’s intolerable. We’d much rather you Earthians took us over.”

Hurtevert made an odd smacking sound. Gatt turned to Vargas. “What was that?”

“It sounded to me like a wet kiss,” Vargas said.

“That’s disgusting,” Vargas said, “but it shows a good spirit. Want us to take over your planet, huh?”

“Yes,” the alien sang, “we want to be ruled by you, nobody else will do, bo bo padoo. Do you like it? It is a song we sing to keep up our courage in the dark times ahead. You must rescue us. Let me show you pictures of the Greems.”

The pictures, made by a process similar to Polaroid, showed creatures who seemed to be a cross between a spider, a crab, and a wolverine.

“Hell,” Gatt said, “anyone would want to be rescued from something like that. Tough fighters, are they?”

“Not at all,” Hurtevert assured him. “I can assure you that with your brave fighting men and superior weaponry, you will have no trouble defeating them and taking over my planet. It will be easy, for you see, the enemy has withdrawn all of their forces except a local garrison. Once you take them over, the place is yours. And you will find Magellenic is a very good planet, filled with good-looking women who admire military Earthmen, to say nothing of gold and precious things. This, gentlemen, is a planet worth having.”

Gatt said, “Sounds pretty good, huh Vargas?”

“And we would like to formally invest you, General Gatt, with the hereditary kingship of our planet.”

“Do you hear that?” Gatt said to Vargas. “They want to make me king! But forget about the kingship thing. What’s really important is the fact that we can take over this whole planet for the profit of Earth. And it’ll be one of the easiest wars on record. And what better way of meeting new peoples than by conquering them, eh?”

“You know something?” Vargas said. “You’ve really got something there.”

To the alien, Gatt said, “OK, son, you’ve got a deal.”

“That is wonderful,” the alien said.

Just then a small dot of light appeared in a corner of the room. It grew, and then it expanded.