Invasion

The alien voice issued suddenly from the speaker. “We will abandon the Texas Foothold if you agree to provide us with transport to the other footholds and recognise our control of those territories,” the alien said. “We will recognise your independence, providing only that you allow missionaries to pass among your people and seek to lead them to the Truth. The precise details can be decided by our subordinates. Do you accept those terms?”

The President looked up at the display, and then back down to the speaker. “The responsibility is mine,” he repeated. “We accept your terms.”

***

“They’re getting closer,” Simon said, grimly. The parasite ships would be entering laser range – effective laser range – within minutes. The laser link to Earth would probably break the moment they opened fire. “Your orders?”

“We wait,” Gary said, sharply. They could have targeted the remaining parasite ships with the rail guns and perhaps destroyed a handful before they could react, but the remainder would probably blow the damaged shuttles out of the sky. If the aliens really were talking, however, how could they open fire and ruin the fragile truce? The wreckage of the Guiding Star’s battle section, drifting down and burning up in Earth’s atmosphere, was a potent reminder of how quickly the situation could change. “We…”

The radio buzzed once. “This is Mission Control,” it said. “The aliens have accepted our terms. The war is over!”

“Right on,” Simon said. “Bugger me, we actually won! What now, sir?”

“We’re going to have to ask them to help us get down,” Gary said, looking up at the icons of the alien ships. It was funny how they suddenly didn’t look so threatening. “See, you’re a hero! I told you it would work out fine.”

“No, you didn’t,” Simon said. “You told me to make sure I took out extra life insurance.”

“But you survived,” Gary said. He lit an imaginary cigar and pretended to take a long drag. “Once we get down, we’ll be heroes. They’ll be naming spacecraft after us.”

***

“Did I do the right thing?”

“There was no choice,” Paul said. He pushed as much conviction into his voice as he could. “We couldn’t have won a second outbreak of hostilities. This way, part of the human race remains free and can build up our own space capabilities. New spacecraft, bases on the moon and the outer planets, asteroid mining…within a few years, we’ll outstrip them completely.”

“Maybe,” the President said. His tone became pensive. “I have the feeling, however, that some of the electorate won’t understand that. Why should they?”

Paul considered it. “When has the electorate ever been right about anything?”

“When they elected me,” the President said, and grinned. Paul decided not to point out that he had voted for the other guy. “I think that was a good choice, don’t you?”

“They sit in their chairs and got fed soundbites by talking heads,” Paul said. “They looked at the world through a prism held up by people with dubious agendas. They swallowed all sorts of crap because it came from someone with a bright smile, or because they didn’t want to appear racist or sexist or whatever other kind of bad buzzword of the month, or because it was easier than thinking for themselves. They got whatever they wanted when they got it and forgot that it came with a price – a heavy price, one that they didn’t have to pay.”

He shrugged. “I guess we’ve had it too easy for too long.”

The President smiled. “Rich democracies are soft?”

“No,” Paul said. “Rich democracies just have a habit of forgetting how cold and harsh the universe can be. They might crucify you for…abandoning the Middle East, but everyone who knows anything about it will know that you had no choice. The world is in chaos and…well, we have our own reconstruction to go through, again. I think they’ll probably forget what’s important by the time the next election comes around.”

“How true,” the President said. “The war is over. Now, all we have to do is win the peace.”

Chapter Forty-Eight

I do not want the peace that passeth understanding. I want the understanding which bringeth peace.

– Helen Keller

“He was scared,” Joshua said.

Loretta looked up at him. A month in captivity hadn’t dulled her much, although the aliens hadn’t set out to really break her. “Who was scared?”

Joshua watched the lines of collaborators, some willing, some unwilling, as they were escorted towards the holding camps outside Austin. They would be held there until they could be tried, but plenty of people weren't waiting for the trials before extracting revenge. Several hundred collaborators, some of the worst, had been lynched before the insurgent network – what was left of it – had finally regained control and taken the remaining collaborators into protective custody.