The aliens scattered, suddenly, as five more aliens surfaced and swam towards the two humans in a calm, measured fashion that Henry found somewhat ominous. He’d seen the aliens practically dancing through the water, moving in a manner that reminded him of penguins at the zoo, but now they seemed frighteningly serious. He shivered, despite the warm water, as he recalled the events in orbit. The report hadn’t been as clear as he would have wished — it was clear the writer feared the aliens might try to intercept the transmission — yet it had been thoroughly alarming. An attack on the alien-settled world had been narrowly averted.
It could restart the war, Henry thought. They hadn’t even come to a final agreement before the Russians had tried to restart the war. They might not even have fared too badly in the final settlement, given the way the aliens kept changing their demands. But it hardly mattered now. We might be back at war within the week.
“We greet you,” the lead alien said. As always, the voice was chillingly atonal, betraying no trace of emotion. “There was fighting in our system between humans. Explain.”
Ambassador Melbourne splashed forward through the water until he could look the alien right in the eye. Henry silently admired his pluck. As much as he’d seen of the aliens since his capture, he still found it hard to look right into their oversized eyes. They were very far from human, he knew, and the sense of inhuman intelligence looking back at him was chilling. The aliens simply didn’t think like humans.
“One of our factions objected to the peace terms,” the Ambassador said. They’d agreed, previously, that they would tell some of the truth if the aliens asked. No one had expected they wouldn’t be concerned about the incident, even if it had taken them two days to agree to call the humans for an interview. “They attempted to take control of our ship and attack your world. We stopped them.”
The aliens, as one, ducked below the waves. Henry silently counted nearly ten minutes before their heads broke the surface again. This time, he was almost sure, it was a different alien facing the human ambassadors. But, as always, it was very hard to be certain.
“You have factions of your own?” The alien asked. “What do they stand for?”
Henry and Ambassador Melbourne exchanged glances. How did one explain the concept of nations and nationality to a race that possessed neither. The alien factions were based around ideas and concepts, not birthplace. It was true, Henry suspected, that someone born into a faction would always remain part of the faction to some extent, but their opinions might change as they grew older. Or when they were exposed to new ideas.
“Our factions are based on birthplace,” Ambassador Melbourne said, finally. It was as good an explanation as any, under the circumstances. “This faction disliked the idea of surrendering New Russia to you.”
The aliens ducked back under the surface. This time, they returned within moments.
“This issue must be debated,” the lead alien said. “We will call you when a consensus has been reached.”
That sounded more than a little ominous, Henry decided, as the aliens dropped back under the waves and vanished. Even the more playful aliens they’d encountered at the start had disappeared below the water. He stared over the surface for a long moment, wondering just how many aliens there were under the sea, then turned and made his way out of the water and up onto the beach. Ambassador Melbourne followed him a moment later.
“Creepy,” the Ambassador commented, suddenly.
Henry followed his gaze Something was moving along the beach. For a moment, he thought it was an optical illusion, a mirage caused by the heat and water droplets in the air, for it looked like a beach towel crawling over the sand. And then he saw that it was made of hundreds of thousands of spiders, making their way in unison towards the water. A shiver ran down his spine as he stared at them in disbelief. There was nothing like that on Earth.
“Another form of alien intelligence,” the Ambassador mused. He didn’t seem scared, merely curious. “Do you think they might become intelligent, one day?”
“Would we even recognise them as intelligent?” Henry asked. He’d read novels where the enemy were intelligent spiders — or creatures so alien that any form of communication was completely impossible. “Would they recognise us as anything more than a food source?”
The Ambassador shrugged. “I’ve negotiated with religious fanatics who think we have no right to exist,” he said, as he turned and walked back to the path. “They’re always difficult to do more than threaten, then carry out the threats if they refuse to listen to reason. Spider-aliens might not be too difficult after dealing with fanatics.”
He didn’t say anything else until they were back in the diplomatic compound and one of the Marines had swept the compartment for bugs. The aliens had been remarkably considerate about not trying to bug the diplomats, Henry had seen, although he had a private suspicion that nothing ever remained secret among the aliens for long. There were just too many aliens changing their allegiance from one faction to another without anyone trying to stop them. He had a feeling the aliens had no concept of a security clearance either.
Maybe it works for them, he thought. He couldn’t deny that the aliens had built their own spacefaring empire, fully humanity’s equal. But it wouldn’t work for us.
“The aliens may find the idea of one of our factions attacking them worrying,” the Ambassador said. “Or they may feel that the peace treaty wouldn’t be kept.”
Henry understood. If the Russians had tried to attack the aliens, what was to stop them from trying again and again. And what would the aliens do then? Restart the war? Or demand that the rest of humanity prevent the Russians from launching further attacks, something that might prove impossible without war? Hell, given time, the aliens might use the situation to their own advantage. A humanity permanently at war with itself wouldn’t be able to prevent the aliens from quietly settling vast tracts of interstellar real estate.
Unless there are other aliens out there, he thought. If there was one alien race, there would be others… and they might be even more alien or less friendly than the first race humanity had encountered. Who knows what’s beyond the next star?
“So we need to convince them otherwise,” the American said. He looked askance at Henry for a long moment, then gazed back at Ambassador Melbourne. “How do we do that?”
“I don’t know,” Ambassador Melbourne said. “I just don’t know.”
Midshipwoman Hawking entered, looking far better than the Ambassadors in a one-peace swimsuit that kept her reasonably decent, but left little to the imagination. No one batted an eyelid, Henry noted with droll amusement. Wearing swimsuits everywhere had once been embarrassing or exciting. Now, everyone was used to showing so much flesh. He couldn’t help wondering what would happen when the diplomats tried to return to Earth. Would they insist on breaking diplomatic convention by wearing comfortable clothes to meetings?
“Your Highness,” she said. “Admiral Smith has requested that you return to Ark Royal.”
Ordered, Henry translated, mentally. If there was one person on the ship who wasn’t impressed with his title, it was the Admiral. He wondered, briefly, if the Admiral wanted to discuss the negotiations with him personally, then dismissed the thought. If Admiral Smith had wanted to hear anything from the horse’s mouth he would have called Ambassador Melbourne directly.