“I want to make a deal,” she said. “I have, I think, a way of getting you into orbit, something that will give you a chance at victory. In exchange, I want something.”
Paul looked at her, his human face unreadable. “What do you want?”
“I want you to help me educate the remainder of my people,” she said, and explained her epiphany. She wanted, she needed, to share it with her fellows, male and female alike, and give the dissidents something to rally around. They could bring down the Theocracy, at least in one tiny system. “Will you help me?”
Paul leaned forward. “How do you intend to get us into orbit?”
Femala smiled and explained.
“Do you think we can trust her?”
Doctor Jones shrugged. “Intellectually, she’s probably the smartest person in this base and certainly among the captives,” he said. “The various Redshirts are comparable to us, but she is very definitely the smartest… and she has practical experience that no one on Earth can match. As for trust…
“We kept a close eye on them and watched, carefully,” he continued. “As far as we can tell, her conversion seems to be genuine, hers and the other prisoners as well. It’s impossible to be sure, but I suspect that she means what she says, which doesn’t mean that either of her plans will work. It’s quite possible that we’ll run into a security check she didn’t know existed, or another trap intended to snare heretics… and that’s exactly what they’re going to regard her as being.”
“But she’s becoming human,” Paul protested. It was an interesting concept, and, if it was true, a handle on her. “Surely…”
“No, she’s adapting,” Jones said, firmly. “She isn’t human; do not forget that. Such behaviour is not unknown among humans, but it is rather unreliable. Stockholm Syndrome can kick in at the oddest places, but it is also not unknown for captives to pretend to be converted, just to get lighter treatment and a chance at escape. You know how many people are capable of fooling parole boards?”
Paul nodded. “Point taken,” he said. The thought was a galling one. Time and time again, dangerous criminals were released because they fooled parole boards into believing that they were reformed. “Still, it’s the only plan we’ve got.”
“She’s very smart, yes,” Jones said. “I’m very smart as well, but I couldn’t build a spacecraft and she couldn’t perform surgery. Just because someone is smart doesn’t mean that they’re… street-smart, or even capable. How many soldiers do you know who look like total assholes and have a string of degrees longer than mine? Her very cunning plan could be a complete disaster just because we don’t know everything we need to know about her people.”
“The President will probably agree with you,” Paul said, remembering the threat of possible impeachment. “It could be that this plan is a complete fuck-up waiting to happen. It could be that she intends to betray us… but, like it or not, it’s the only plan we’ve got and I intend to recommend to the President that we proceed at once.”
“Of course,” Jones said. “Good luck.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The enemy of my enemy is my enemy’s enemy.
Riyadh, Ambassador Simon Carmichael had decided, hadn’t changed for the better under alien rule. It had been a repressive environment in so many ways, with the religious police watching for the slightest hint of un-Islamic behaviour, and the political police watching for anti-government attitudes, but it had been fairly safe, provided that you were an Arab male. Now, aliens patrolled the streets, the Burka was banned and every mosque in the city had been destroyed. The entire city was waiting nervously for the penny to drop.
The aliens had rounded up, with the help of a number of senior princes and government officials who had fallen into their hands, every member of the religious police they could find and transported them out into the desert somewhere. Rumour, never the most accurate source in the world, claimed that the aliens had simply made them dig their own graves and then shot them, but given that rumour also claimed that the United States had been destroyed and that Mecca was burning rubble… well, it wasn’t very helpful. The only piece of truth that had been spread had been that Tel Aviv had been destroyed by the aliens… after Israeli nukes had fallen on several of their formations. The aliens now ruled from the Mediterranean Coastline — they’d overrun North Africa in a week — to the rapidly dissolving Pakistani border. They had not been short of ideas, this time, on how to treat the people who were suddenly under their control and a full-fledged insurgency was underway.
It wasn’t going well. The Iraqi Insurgency had benefited from dozens of factors, including the misuse of the Iraqi Army, the presence of literally millions of weapons in the country and plenty of outside support. The Saudi Army — and, for that matter, every other army in the region — had been destroyed. Those soldiers who had been captured — or, so rumour said, surrendered rather easily — had been placed in prison camps and carefully kept away from the cities. Insurgents had managed to break one of them open, but the aliens had rounded up most of the prisoners, leaving only a handful on the loose. Experienced fighters were rare among the new insurgency… and the learning curve was steep. The supplies being smuggled in from outside, mainly from Europe, weren’t enough to tip the balance, although the commandos and Special Forces were very helpful. The irony was thick enough to slice with a knife — they’d spent blood and treasure on suppressing radical Islam, and now they were trying to support it — but it still wouldn’t be enough. The aliens had learnt from Texas as well.
Worst of all, they’d found allies. Carmichael wouldn’t have believed that anyone brought up in a strictly religious environment would have been willing to work with the aliens, but he’d underestimated them. The Saudis had imported tens of thousands of guest workers to do all the shit work… and treated them, well, like shit. They’d taken the opportunity offered by the aliens to get some revenge on their former masters and taken an unholy delight in exposing insurgents wherever they found them. There were even some Shias from the oil-rich regions who were willing to join the aliens. They had to know that that would merely put them last on the alien list for conversion, but perhaps they just didn’t care. It wasn’t as if the Saudis had offered them anything better.
Carmichael scowled as he peered down over the city. A rising column of smoke announced the detonation of another IED, although it was anyone’s guess as to what — if anything — it had destroyed. The insurgents were still learning, while the aliens were becoming much quicker at rooting out and destroying insurgent cells before they could become active. Part of it was through collaborators, but judging from what Captain Harper had said, the aliens used sensors to sniff for explosive residue and other signs of insurgent activity. They were probably using such methods in Texas too, now, and perhaps they would win there as well.
Bastards, he thought suddenly, clenching his fists in helpless rage. He’d known people in Washington who had vanished somewhere under the mushroom cloud. The not knowing was worse than any report of their deaths. They might have survived, or they might have been killed, but there was no way to know. The single communications line to the government bunker had to be reserved for important matters. A question regarding the dead, however important, wouldn’t go through. It was a complete mystery why the aliens had allowed the embassy to continue to exist, without either throwing them out of the country or dumping them all in a POW camp, but it would be selfish not to take advantage of their generosity.