The Cresperian Alliance Read online

  "...But I promise, Peggy,” Bangler told the female medic, “we'll go see that movie as soon as I get back."

  "I know, Bang,” Nunez sighed. “I just can't help feeling that a precedent is being set."

  Bangler joined her in her sigh. “Yeah, I know. But I got no choice. They've got liaison and bodyguard in one, in me, and that's a cost savings, and you know the red tape..."

  "Yeah. Every penny they can pinch is going into more starships and armament,” Nunez agreed. “Damn Congress. Go. I'll be here."

  Scant days later, Bangler and Piki were escorted into the presence of President Waterman and his Cabinet by secret service agents. A makeup team had been ready to glam up Piki, but backed off rapidly upon seeing the alien, not at all certain how to even work on such a creature. Piki blinked, disconcerted by the obvious rejection, and Bangler murmured, “Don't worry. You look great. You don't need them.” Piki flashed him a wobbly smile, not noticing when the makeup team averted their faces.

  And then they were in THE Office, and Piki was the center of a swirl of attention and media as she met the Cabinet members, shaking their hands as Sira had instructed her. Bangler followed closely at her shoulder, silent and solid, every sense on alert for the protection of his charge. Occasionally one of the Cabinet members shook his hand with a friendly word as well, most notably Martin Singletary, the Secretary of Defense, and General John Salter, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, both of whom knew who he really was, but maintained the facade. However, the Secretary of State, Sandra Fellowes, pointedly ignored him and focused all her attention on Piki.

  Fellowes shook Piki's hand. “Greetings, Ambassador,” she said formally, loudly, and slowly, enunciating precisely.

  Waterman rolled his eyes, then met Salter's and Singletary's gazes, and realized they were all thinking the same thing: She's not deaf, and she's not stupid, Sandra. Besides, even if she didn't speak ANY English, talking louder isn't going to help. Idiot. No wonder your third marriage is breaking up, if you treat your husbands like you treat other people.

  "I am the chief diplomatic representative of the United States of America,” the woman continued, in the same loud tone. “My name is Sandra Fellowes. I want to formally apologize for the method in which you were brought here, and the,” she finally glanced scathingly at Bangler, “armed guard under which you've been placed. I intend to see to it that THAT is addressed immediately."

  Piki raised a not quite there eyebrow and replied in soft, well modulated, and eloquently British tones. “Ah. You mean B- the, er, sergeant here? No, no. He saved my life, Ms. Fellowes. He is my bodyguard, and I am far from being a prisoner. I am quite thankful I have been brought here, as are my colleagues."

  Take THAT, Ms. Pacifist, Bangler thought complacently. He happened to catch the President's eye at that moment, and was startled, then amused, to see him turn slightly and cover the smirk that spread over his mouth. Oh. I guess she got politically foisted on him. Pity him, then.

  "Surely you jest,” Fellowes protested. “Don't tell me they've brainwashed you, too.” She shot a venomous look at Bangler. “Bodyguard,” she muttered under her breath, disgusted, shaking her head. “Poor thing."

  "Jest?” Piki wondered.

  "Humor—a joke,” Bangler murmured, face neutral.

  "I am afraid I have not yet entirely grasped this concept of human humor,” Piki admitted. “And nor has my brain been... washed?"

  "Never mind,” Waterman said, interrupting the one way verbal jousting that made pretense at conversation and rescuing Piki and Bangler. “We'll hear all about that very shortly. Ms... Bergman, are you ready?"

  "I believe so,” Piki said in her impeccable English accent, as the President led her to a chair next to his desk. “I merely speak to the camera, correct?” She pointed at the television crew and their equipment.

  "Correct,” Waterman verified, “and merely tell it what happened to you and your shipmates."

  Piki nodded. Bangler stepped just out of camera range, the President took his seat behind his desk, “Hail to the Chief” started up, and the cameras began rolling.

  "Hello,” Waterman said, gazing steadily at the camera, as the microphone boom picked up every word. “I am aware of the worldwide distress regarding events which the United States felt it necessary to undertake, and I am here tonight to address that distress. In recent months, there have been rumors of aliens upon Earth, and starships in space. I am about to confirm both rumors."

  There was a short pause to allow for reaction among his remote audience before Waterman resumed. “A spokesperson is here to speak to the details, but I can tell you that Earth has made contact with extraterrestrials—the Cresperians. It is their technology that has enabled the United States to build a fleet of starships. The Cresperians are friendly, peaceful people, but they look very different from us. For some, their appearance is disturbing. It was this difference, unfortunately, which led to the slaughter of one Cresperian in rural Mexico, where he was thought to be a monster, something akin to the chupacabra of legend and myth. However, the appearance of the ‘Crispies,’ as those of us who know them have affectionately nicknamed them, varies somewhat from person to person. When we consider the diversity of our own species, this should not be surprising. Our spokesperson is a Crispy whose appearance more closely approximates humans than some others. Due to the near impossibility of humans to pronounce the Cresperian language, she has taken the human name, ‘Patricia Bergman.'” He nodded to Piki. The cameras and microphones swung toward her, focusing in.

  "Hello,” Piki said calmly, in her inimitable English accent. “I am glad to be here, and able to speak to you.” She primly folded her hands in her lap. “Please excuse me if I make a grammatical error; I have only begun properly learning Earth languages since arriving in the United States. I had little to no opportunity before, due to my isolation and imprisonment."

  She drew a deep breath. “I have come to understand since arriving on Earth that humans have a wide variation, not merely in appearance, but in morals and intents. But let me first explain what happened to me and my ship.

  "My ship originated from our home planet of Cresperia very many of your years ago. We were an explorational team, composed principally of scientists curious about the Universe, and we set out to investigate that Universe. We had a propulsion drive which your human scientists are only now beginning to understand and utilize—hence President Waterman's reference to the starship fleet. But an apparent navigational error led to a disastrous interaction of that drive field with the gravity well of your solar system, which was not on our charts. Your star was, but the surrounding solar system had not been detected previously.” Piki sighed.

  "It destroyed our ship. We evacuated, those that could, but only a few of the lifepods made it to Earth. The rest—were lost in space.” Orange eyes closed in painful remembrance. “Our lifepods came down at slightly different times, at different locations around the Earth, and our tiny little groups of survivors was found by different peoples."

  "WERE found,” Bangler murmured from off screen.

  Piki grinned slightly. “Excuse me, WERE found. My group of three landed in an area you call Scotland, and we were found by the British peoples. I now understand that the British peoples are good people; but not all of your elected officials are good people. The men in power held us captive—but the ones who first rescued us in our lifepod... were killed. The officials wanted our skills and technology for their own private use. I do not fully understand why yet, but I do know that the leader kept speaking of something he called a ‘coup.’ If we did not provide in accordance with their wishes, we were beaten and starved. In addition, because of my resemblance to human form, I was...” Piki swallowed visibly, “I was raped. It was... painful. Very, very painful. Our anatomy is... not like yours. Then, when I fought back, I was beaten badly. I am told there is medical evidence which verifies that the Prime Minister did this.” Alien orange eyes, holding agony visible even to humans, droppe
d their gaze.

  The room was dead silent except for the sound of the television cameras whirring.

  "I have since talked to my crewmates who were in China and the Middle East,” she finally continued, raising her head. “While none of them were ra- raped, they were beaten, sometimes severely. My friend Frstiminith was neglected and starved, and Dalunith was beaten so badly his skull was broken and he had...” she glanced off screen at Bangler, “brain damage? That is the term?” Bangler nodded, and she reiterated stronger, “Yes, brain damage.” She paused, and somehow the extraterrestrial's orange eyes managed to convey sadness. “Dalunith's two friends were driven mad and killed."

  A horrified squeak, fortunately not audible on the air, came from Fellowes.

  "So you see why we are glad we were rescued,” Piki declared. “And that is what it was—a rescue. Although no one died in the team that rescued me, good peoples died in the other two rescues. For that, we are truly sorry. We are also sorry that it was necessary to kill the bad men. But it was not all the Americans that did the killing. The leader—the... Prime Minister? Yes. He ran out after me, and I was afraid and angry. I took a... a gun, and... and shot him,” she confessed. “I am sorry. I have never killed before, but I did not wish to be... raped again."

  "Self defense,” Waterman murmured, and the microphone caught it as the camera flicked momentarily to him. “It's called self defense, Ms. Bergman. And no one on this planet would ever hold you accountable for it."

  "We do not blame the peoples,” Piki went on as the media crew cut back to her. “We know that bad mens—er, men—were responsible, not the peoples of the countries. And I liked this Scotland, what little I saw of it. It was very pretty. I would ask you, please do not be angry at the Americans. We needed their help, and they gave it, even at the risk of their lives. I do not think he is on camera, but there is a man here who did... what is the phrase?” She pivoted in her seat and looked directly at Bangler.

  Bangler, blushing and desperately waving off the cameraman, thankful the President reinforced the order via a hand gesture so he didn't have to appear on air, suggested, “Rescued?"

  "No, when the bad ones shot from the hole in the ground."

  "Oh. Human shield? Bodyguard? Took a bullet?"

  "Ah yes,” Piki nodded. “Thank you. He took a bullet—took two—to save my life. One hit armor, but another hit him.” Here, she pointed to her torso and her shoulder, indicating where Bangler had been struck. “Both hurt him. But he still helped me get to safety. He is,” she declared, “my hero.” Orange bifurcated eyes looked directly into the camera, surprisingly pleading. “Please, friends of America, STAY friends of America. They did the right thing."

  The camera cut back to Waterman. “Thank you, Patricia.” He nodded at Piki, then looked into the camera. “The sites where the Crispies were held captive were destroyed in order to ensure that any misused Cresperian technology would be destroyed, as well. We believe a lifepod landed in India in addition to the aforementioned countries, and this Vishnu person around whom their religious revival has developed is, in fact, a disguised Crispy, rather than one of the old gods, returned. The cultures of Earth are sufficiently different to their minds that sudden immersion in some cultures alone is sufficient to render a Crispy mentally unbalanced,” he hedged, to protect the secret of the Crispy ability to shape-change. “Isn't that right, Patricia?"

  A quick cut to Piki, who also stretched the truth, understanding. “It is, Mr. President."

  The camera returned to Waterman. “We have already built several starships based on Crispy technology, in an effort to help them find their home planet,” he declared. “This is what the astronomer, Dr. Anne Osbourne, reported sighting, as it returned home after a search. We plan to continue, and even accelerate, construction of starships based on the news that the USSS Zeng Wu brought back. It seems that the Cresperians are not the only aliens we have now encountered. And the other aliens are not nearly so friendly, it appears.” He took a deep breath. “It is the considered opinion of myself and the majority of my Cabinet that we must be prepared in case this other, inimical alien force, locates Earth. To that end, we—and the Cresperians—are willing to share Crispy technology with those willing to ally themselves with us. And we will protect the entire planet to the best of our capability, regardless of alliance."

  The camera zoomed in on his serious face. “This is a critical time in our history. I speak not merely as an American; I speak as Homo sapiens. It is every bit as momentous as the first moon landing, and much more volatile. Humanity is on the brink of becoming a true space faring member of the galaxy. The choice being set before us is simple: Will we work together to move forward into that galaxy, allying ourselves with those galactic races worthy of alliance? Or will we tear our planet to pieces, over perceived territorial disputes? Is this woman...” he gestured to Piki, and the cameraman pulled back to include both beings, “who is a sentient, intelligent PERSON, merely a possession to be owned? I thought we'd gotten past that attitude decades ago."

  Waterman paused. “This is the choice we have as a race, as a planet. This is the choice we must consider. And we must choose wisely, or we will likely cease to exist. Thank you for listening."

  The red light on the camera went out.

  Waterman was shaking Piki's hand and congratulating her—and Bangler—on a successful broadcast, when one of Waterman's aides tapped him on the shoulder. He turned.

  "Yes, Smith?"

  "Telephone, sir. The SPECIAL telephone."

  "Who is it?"

  "Sir, it's... it's the Queen of England. Herself."

  "Oh, dear Lord. Here goes,” Waterman said, paling slightly. “Shut up, everybody."

  The Oval Office silenced.

  Waterman picked up the phone. “Yes, Your Majesty?"

  Everyone watched as he concentrated on the conversation. “Yes, madam. Indeed. No, I had no idea myself what she would say. No, I don't think her liaison did, either.” He listened. “Yes, she is right here. Be aware she hasn't been trained in Earthly royal protocol. Very well."

  Waterman handed the phone to Piki. “She wants to talk to you."

  Piki took the phone. “Yes?"

  A soft feminine murmur issued from the phone. Piki answered intermittently. “Yes, Queen, they did. Yes, that was his name. No, he was a very bad man. It was... it was... no, I do not think I wish to talk about it yet. Yes, I will ask my bodyguard to have the doctors send you the, um, the evidence. Oh! Yes, thank you. Yes, I am very, very glad. Thank you! Thank you very much!"

  There was an audible click from the telephone as Piki handed it back to Waterman. He checked that the line was dead just to make sure, and hung up. “Well?” he wondered.

  "She apologizes,” Piki declared. “She was unaware, and is very angry about it. She promises to appoint a temporary Prime Minister who is a good man. Britain and America are friends again."

  A sigh of relief went around the room.

  Other phone calls began arriving for Waterman on the “special” line, and Bangler escorted Piki toward the door. Sandra Fellowes made a beeline for the alien woman, and General Salter smoothly cut her off, engaging her in conversation as a diversion to allow Piki and Bang to make their escape.

  As the pair approached the door, one of the Secret Servicemen stepped in, removing his sunglasses. “Hi, Ms. Bergman,” he said with a smile. “I wanted you to know, off the record, you're quite a beautiful little thing, alien species or no. Your eyes are gorgeous."

  "Thank you,” Piki said primly, drawing back slightly.

  "Any time you want someone to show you around the world of humanity, just let me know,” the agent continued, despite Piki's closed body language and withdrawal. “I'm sure there are those of us who can do a much better job of introducing you to... some things... than a stuffy old British prime minister."

  Piki moved closer to Bangler; sensing her bodyguard's urging, she plucked up her courage and asked, “Such as?"

  "O
h,” the agent's voice dropped low, “a little hands on training, maybe? It doesn't have to be painful, you know."

  A keening wail issued from Piki's throat. “NO!” she cried. “Stay away!"

  "You son of—you bastard!” Bangler snapped, stepping protectively in front of Piki as he swiftly corrected himself to avoid language that would exacerbate Piki's panicked reaction. “Is there a brain in that head, or is that what the cord in your ear is for?! What the he- blazes do you think you're doing, propositioning a woman who's been raped within the week??"

  "More than you're able to do, soldier boy,” the agent said coldly. “You've probably got orders not to even touch.” He got up in Bangler's face; he was roughly the same size and height, so it was an even match. “You're in serious trouble, sergeant. In fact I'll see to it you get permanently dead-ended, if not sent to Leavenworth, for that little outburst."

  "I don't think so."

  Both men spun at that, to find President Waterman and General Salter side by side, glaring. Piki hid her face in Bangler's back, trembling and patently terrified.

  "Sir,” Bangler and the agent said in unison.

  As one, Waterman and Salter held up warning hands. “You first, John,” Waterman said.

  "Sergeant, take your charge and go. Now. We'll handle this. Very good, by the way,” the general added.

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Would you be willing to keep it up?” the general asked meaningfully. Piki watched the exchange, peeping over Bangler's shoulder.

  "I... I suppose so, sir,” Bang replied slowly, “at least, to a point."

  "I... understand. Good. And thank you. Dismissed."