It was impossible to speculate too much on what the aliens might be doing down on Earth, although Francis had a nasty suspicion that that’d invaded the US because the aliens kept asking questions about his country, but it could have been worse. He kept trying to talk to the aliens, if only to try and learn more, but it seemed that not all of them were able to speak English… and they’d never heard any of their own language. It was something that puzzled him; if it was a security measure, designed to stop the humans from speaking to the guards, it was a very paranoid one. He wondered, looking at the faceless guards who accompanied them from time to time, just what they thought of the humans, or the invasion.
He knew, from his experience, that cultures were never monolithic. It was easy to believe that a human group was perfectly united, but that was never the case. Imperial Japan had been as united as human societies ever became… and yet there had been good and decent people, caught up in the maelstrom of World War Two. There had to be weaknesses in how the alien society worked, if only closet atheists, but without the ability to talk to the aliens directly, it was impossible to find them. The handful of aliens who were able and willing to talk to them freely — all female, he’d noted — refused to be drawn on certain subjects.
And that, too, was odd. He’d expected, he realised, that a highly-religious society would keep the women subordinated, as most human societies had done, but the aliens seemed to place women in all ranks, except one. It was hard to tell, under the armour, but as far as he could tell, their guards were always male. That wasn’t unknown in human society — there had been a time when the status of women and homosexuals in combat had seemed like the most important issue in the world — but what did it signify for the aliens? Who was really in charge? What happened to determine how the aliens mated?
There were so many questions and so little time.
“You will accompany me,” an alien said, appearing suddenly in the hatch. She was obviously female; two guards, obviously male, flanked her. The presence of the guards always made him smile; the aliens seemed to expect them to suddenly pull a gun out of an unthinkable orifice and start shooting the starship apart. He wondered, with a sudden flicker of gallows humour, if the aliens had watched too many action movies and taken them for reality. James Bond would have had some problems finding a way out of the alien craft. “Follow.”
She pulled herself through the corridor to the same open bay. “These are communications devices,” she said, as they floated into the room. “They will provide a direct link to our ships and… diplomatic personnel. You will take them, our demands and our data to your governments and use them to open communications.”
Francis coughed suddenly. “You are prepared to negotiate with us?”
“We are prepared to discuss your race’s integration into our society,” the female said, in response, and turned to the group. “You will be returned to the ground, where you will make your own way to your leaders, carrying with you our messages. The groups that open communications first will receive preferential treatment when they submit to us.”
They’re learning, Francis thought, feeling his blood run cold. He’d had the impression, listening to the aliens, that they’d been surprised to discover so many governments on Earth. Sophia’s representing the United Nations had only confused them further. Perhaps, if they’d all agreed in advance to maintain that the UN was the real Earth government… but that was impossible. Too many governments were quite happy to ignore the UN and its edicts could never be enforced. It would just end up with the impossible task of converting the Earth to the Truth…
But if the aliens worked to manipulate human powers on Earth, they would eventually knock down all of their opponents and take over the planet. If there really were a billion of them, as they claimed, they’d be the most powerful race on the surface of the planet instantly — hell, they already were — and by playing the human factions off against one another, they would remain on top. It was a devious, if obvious, offer… and he wondered, bitterly, who would be the first to accept the alien trick. Which nation would be the first to swear allegiance to the aliens?
“Follow,” the female said, and led them down another long corridor. The design seemed to be changing all around them, changing from a stylised — if understandable — set of corridors, orientated to have a deck… to a compartment that seemed to have been designed like the International Space Station. It was clearly intended to remain without gravity, permanently… and, watching the aliens moving through the area, he understood why. They used the area to prepare and launch their spacecraft.
The massive hatch opened as they approached, revealing the interior of a vaguely conical spacecraft. They found themselves escorted in to discover a set of chairs that had obviously been designed for the human form; the guards, silent as always, pushed the humans into the chairs and secured them down with straps. The escort checked the straps, nodded once to the humans, and floated up back through the hatch. A moment later, it slammed closed.
“I wonder if we’re alone on this craft,” Gary said, suddenly. Francis silently cursed himself for forgetting the closest thing to an expert they had. “It looked like a basic SSTO design from the outside, but I don’t think that there was enough room for the pilot, not inside.”
“Perhaps it’s on remote control,” Stanislav suggested, absently. “We have used remote-controlled spacecraft to resupply the space station before and there is no reason why the aliens might not use a similar tactic. I wonder if…”
A series of bangs and shocks ran through the craft. “They’re launching us,” Katy said, her voice shaking. Francis understood her feelings; it was rather like being about to take a roller-coaster ride. There were more shocks… and then everything stopped. “Boss…”
“I don’t think we’ve been launched,” Gary said, calmly. He sounded perfectly calm; Francis couldn’t hear any tension in his voice at all. “It sounded more like they were attaching something to the craft, perhaps the piloting section. Two-stage SSTOs have been discussed for years, but no one actually produced a working model. The aliens would certainly need something like that unless they actually managed to develop some magic…”
Francis winced as a new sensation, that of endless falling, swept through him. The SSTO didn’t seem to have changed at all, but he was suddenly convinced that the craft was finally moving, flying down towards the planet. A dull hiss echoed through the craft, and then another, pushing them back down to Earth. Brief moments of pressure built up in the craft and then dissipated; he wished, suddenly, for a porthole, some way of judging their progress. The aliens had sent them on a ride without any way of knowing what was going on, apart from the sensations they could all feel. None of them, except perhaps Gary, could read them… but it felt as if gravity was finally reclaiming its hold on them.
The pressure on his body was growing as the SSTO’s engines started to fire. There was no mistaking the roar as they fought to slow their fall, saving them from crashing into the planet like a KEW, or from burning up in the atmosphere. His ears ached as the noise grew louder, but he didn’t dare cover his ears, even without the straps. They’d been warned, back before the aliens had arrived and the world had looked bright and full of promise, that doing so could prove fatal… and he had no intention of being wounded, not while it would leave him under alien care. The noise grew to a crescendo… and then stopped.