“Well, Brent, I’m afraid I lured you here under false pretenses.” Fitz-Warren set his snifter down on the ornate end table next to him and leaned forward towards Carpenter. “I actually wanted to have a little chat with you about something entirely different. Living in Chelsea Downs, I know you’re my sort of man; not under the thumb of the squiddies, not comfortable with the hold that they have now on Britain.” Fitz-Warren stood and began pacing, all nervous energy and passion. “I know the story we’re taught in school – the Mlosh are friendly, the Mlosh are peaceful, the Mlosh are Jesus bleeding Christ.” His blue eyes stabbed into Carpenter’s. “But, just look at what they’ve done to our country; when they landed, we had colonies across the globe. Now, we can barely control Scotland and Wales. This Congress of Nations thing that the Ml’Astrans are talking up – if that’s not a plan to take over the world, I don’t know what is.”
Carpenter was a little flabbergasted; he knew Fitz-Warren’s politics, even agreed with them to an extent, but hadn’t planned on getting harangued about it this evening. “Look, Fitz, I know you’re very big on political action and everything, but it’s just not my cup of tea.”
“Then, why do you live in Chelsea Downs?”
Carpenter squirmed in his chair. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m no squid-lover. I just don’t feel like it’s anything to get that excited about. Sure, they have plans; doesn’t everybody? I just don’t feel like we should get all worked up about the Mlosh taking over the world. To me, and to most people, I’m sure, it just sounds like the ramblings of someone who’s cracked.”
Fitz-Warren smiled mischievously. “Cracked, eh?” He strode over to the window and pulled back the curtain. “See all the squiddie aircars gathering down there?”
Carpenter shrugged. “Sure, I supposed there was some event going on tonight.”
“Oh, there’s an event, all right.” Fitz-Warren went to a small chest and opened it, pulling out a vid-screen.
“I thought you didn’t truck with Mlosh tech.”
“I’ll make exceptions for the right reasons.” He set the screen on his fireplace mantle and made a couple of adjustments. After a tap or two through a menu on the command screen, it brought up an image of a banquet hall filled with several hundred Mlosh. “There we go.”
A Mlosh speaker was addressing the hall, in Mlosh. Whatever he was saying, they were approving; the noise of Mlosh applause, that rubbing thing they did with their fingers, interrupted him every few words.
Fitz-Warren brought up his command screen again and tapped up a couple more options. When the image came back, there was a translation running across the bottom. “There we go.”
“The humans are unsuspecting of the true dangers before them,” the Mlosh was saying, according to the translation. “Therefore, we must guide them. Many will not be willing to follow our lead in this endeavor; but they must follow, willing or not.” This statement was interrupted with the rustling of applause.
“That chap’s not…” The Mlosh was familiar. He had the dark skin of an older Mlosh, as well as eyes that had turned milky-white. Carpenter had seen this one before, but couldn’t quite place him.
“Minister L’Ke’Tumin, of the Mlosh Affairs Ministry. A member of our elected government.”
L’Ke’Tumin was speaking again. “We have friends across all the nations of this planet, and among the planets and moons. They will stand by us if we need them. They will reinforce us in this great battle, as we will need to reinforce them. None of us need struggle alone. As a united force, we will affect such change upon this planet as has not been seen since we landed here in 1720.” There was much applause at this.
This was making Carpenter uncomfortable. He disliked the Mlosh, but didn’t think they were dangerous; this speech was starting to make doubt creep into his mind. “What is he talking about?”
“Taking us over.” He pointed at a Mlosh woman on the dais with the Minister. “That’s Lady Arpen’kl, from the House of Lords. That’s Ambassador Nor’Ilomar from Ml’Astra,” he said, pointing at a small, dark-skinned Mlosh. “Minister Rt’Oka from the North American Confederation, Ka’Pl’Posa of Ireland, Ambassador Regetz from Karanga.” His finger stabbed at the screen again and again, naming important Mlosh politicians and business figures. “They’re the new leaders of the world, Brent, unless we decide to do something about it.”
Carpenter’s head was swimming. This was all too much to believe. “How… how are you getting this?”
“I have a friend who works for the security firm in that building; he’s providing this feed to all concerned humans, along with the translation.”
Carpenter thought he smelled something rotten. “Selling it to you.”
Fitz-Warren shrugged. “For a small fee. Nothing wrong with that.”
“You don’t think he’d provide you a phony translation simply because he thought you’d pay?”
Fitz-Warren bristled at the suggestion. “This man is a patriot and a true human; he would cut off his right arm before taking advantage of a fellow Englishman. And I bitterly resent what you’re implying.”
Carpenter backed down. “My apologies. It’s just very unbelievable.”
“The truth can be like that.” He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled out a couple of thin books. “These opened my eyes when I read them last year. Take a look through them now.”
Carpenter reluctantly took the books from him and began reading. It didn’t take long to finish the first one – it was little more than a pamphlet, and was written to keep the reader moving along quickly. The second one was a little meatier, and much more convincing, as it had a couple of vid files embedded in the paper. Mlosh, speaking in their own words, were saying that their goal was to take over the world.
“Astonishing, isn’t it?” Fitz-Warren had refilled his snifter and was halfway through its contents. “They come here pretending to be friends, but only so they can get our planet without damaging it. And they use us as labor to build their cities and machines.”
“Why didn’t they just take us over from the beginning? Why wait so long?” Carpenter didn’t want it to be true; he didn’t like the Mlosh, but he didn’t want to believe that they were ruthless conquerors.
“They’re a patient people. They took almost 5 years to travel here in those colony ships; they know how to wait for what they want.” Fitz-Warren gestured at the vid-screen, where the banquet was still going on. “They land here, use us as plentiful labor for a century and a half, get us to build the world up to just what they want, and then bang. We’re superfluous to their new world order.” Fitz-Warren gulped down the last of his brandy and wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “After all we’ve been taught about them, I know it’s hard to believe. They stop wars, they prevent earthquakes, they impose democracy, they share medicine, contraceptives and labor-saving devices, but it’s all so that they can have a perfect world ready for them when they finally decide it’s time to cast us aside.”
“Lyle, I...” Carpenter didn’t know what to say. He was a little drunk, which made all of this more believable, but harder to speak about. “I mean… if they want to do it, how could we stop them? All the technology, they came up with it. What chance would we stand against them?”
“Brent, we have one thing they haven’t got.” Fitz-Warren smiled broadly. “Numbers. 3 billion of us scattered across the solar system and what? Half a billion of them. If the sleeping giant of humanity wakes up, we can treat the squiddies like gnats.”
He turned the image off on his vid-screen and brought up the dictation program. “You and I, my friend, are going to become humanity’s alarm clock.”
