Читать книгу The Alien's Secret Volume 1 - Robert M. Doroghazi - Страница 5

Appropriate data and images were displayed as the Chairman continued to brief the Committee.

“From our monitoring over the last thirty-two hours, I can tell you that Earth’s development has been quite uneven. Their literature base is fairly extensive, and would be much more impressive had there not been repeated episodes of book-burning, the most recent within the last quarter century.”

That caught everyone’s attention, a few even winced. Every known civilization had at one time or another burned books, purposefully destroying knowledge—including on Oria, but that had been long ago.

“Some of their arts, especially music,” said the Chairman continuing the narrative, “may even be superior to ours. But their sciences are almost two millennia behind us. They have not yet discovered all of the planets of their solar system, or even a fraction of the moons of the known planets. They have only recently developed air travel and still rely almost exclusively on non-renewable fossil fuels for energy.”

As the image changed from a propeller-driven Lockheed Constellation, complete with its exhaust trail tailing off to what seemed to everyone around the table to be the corner of the room farthest from them, to a skin-and-bones young man, whose ribs could be counted from afar, with leather reigns over his shoulders, slogging knee-deep through a rice paddy behind a plow pulled by an equally gaunt ox, the Chairman said, “Many areas still rely on beasts of burden and drink impure water. The vast majority of Earthlings labor in menial, back-breaking, mind-numbingly boring jobs from early childhood until their death. Many of their almost innumerable religions, and we’ve counted more than five thousand so far,” he said finding it almost difficult to appreciate his own words, “are based on superstition and fear of retribution rather than kindness or a desire to help others. Religious tolerance is uncommon, and in a recent planet-wide war, millions were systematically exterminated merely for their beliefs.”

Rommeler stopped speaking so everyone could hear the Orian-translated voice of Leonard Graves narrating scenes from Victory at Sea, with the music of Richard Rodgers playing softly in the background, showing what the Allies found when they liberated the Nazi concentration camps.

“The brand of tyranny and oppression will forever scar the conscience of mankind…Man inflicting their greatest indignity on man…Man vilified, man broke, this is society at its blackest depths, the human cost that no statistic can even suggest, no words describe.”

The look on the Committee members faces were the same as the Allied soldiers as they gave succor to the pleading cadaveric survivors. Even General Raton, who’d seen it all on the battlefield and had helped Chairman Rommeler assemble the presentation, was visibly moved.

“Oh my,” said Piros Redd, representative of the Arts, shaking his head.

“Sickening, isn’t it?” said the Chairman. “You must understand the kind of people we are dealing with on Earth.” Heightening the sensitivity of the Committee members were persistent rumors, which were eventually confirmed, that Rennedee was committing similar atrocities on Oria. The Chairman gave everyone, including himself, a few moments to regain their composure.

“I’ll now get to the reason for this meeting, why this far-off, relatively backward planet has suddenly become so important to us. In the recent past, Earth had a truly gifted scientist named Albert Einstein.”

Displayed was an image not of the young Einstein, whose genius had revolutionized a planet, but of an old man with a quizzical, almost whimsical look, his wrinkles betraying his years: a loose-fitting sweater, floppy, walrus-like mustache, and long, frazzled white hair that stuck out in every direction. The contrast between the verbal description of Earth’s most brilliant scientist and the picture of an old man who looked like his finger was in a light socket was shockingly obvious.

“One-half century ago, Einstein described the basic laws governing the relationship between time, mass, energy, light and gravity.”

Ennui Riccardo, Chairperson of Oria’s largest company developing bio-mechanical intelligence said in her usual precise, insightful, and invariably correct way, “I believe Einstein was a Tralarian.”

The Chairman was caught off guard by the comment. For just a moment he let slip that look where you tilt your head a little, scrunch up one side of your face, and shrug your shoulders as if to say, Why didn’t I think of that? But Rommeler was quick on his feet, and prided himself on never appearing to be taken by surprise. He said simply, “That certainly fits with their history.”

Riccardo was right. Earth had been visited by aliens. There were no humans that smart. Einstein was a Tralarian named Slanish Paldius who assumed Einstein’s existence when he worked at the patent office in Bern, picking his name out at random from the marriage records.

Tralarian society and commerce was based entirely on a plant named the volo; the pinkish-yellow, rose-like petals of which produced the most potent aphrodisiac in the Universe; that the Tralarians marketed under the trade name ENDORFUN®. To compare ENDORFUN® to Viagra® is like comparing Viagra® to mountain oysters. It was as equally effective for males and females. It’s now also marketed for everything from depression, dyspepsia, poor hearing, and poor vision to lumbago. Scientists still aren’t exactly sure how it works in such conditions, but everyone who takes it certainly seems happier. It has now been approved for daily use and is covered by all insurance plans with no co-pay.

The volo grew wild and required just one week’s work, during the pleasantly cool fall of their year, to harvest and process. This life of great leisure, pleasure, and wealth made the Tralarians worse than the spoiled children of hereditary aristocracy. They were arrogant, demanding, petulant and insolent. It was easier to hold a squealing, writhing piglet slathered in Mazola in each arm than to try to talk reasonably with a Tralarian. And if you didn’t put up with their tantrums, you didn’t get any ENDORFUN®.

Convinced of their own self-righteousness, in a sense of misguided compassion, they had the oft-repeated habit of introducing advanced knowledge and technology into cultures they considered primitive. Society and the environment were suddenly confronted with situations for which they had no controls or limits, no checks and balances.

Unfortunately, one of the Tralarian’s rare virtues was their dogged persistence. They were like the eipparc, a barracuda-like fish on Oria; once they got a hold of something, they became obsessed, they just wouldn’t let go. The most often cited example, and there were many, of their misguided do-gooderism was the tragedy on Alfian Blue. All adolescents on the planet developed a skin condition similar to acne. Since it always resolved spontaneously by adulthood and left no physical scars, it was just accepted as part of growing up there.

But the Tralarians knew better. They knew it was hurting their self-esteem. It was just disgraceful that the kids’ parents weren’t concerned enough. Without permission or notice they introduced a microbe they knew would prevent the condition. But the microbe almost immediately mutated, producing a prion-like protein that attacked the central nervous system of the males, causing a wasting, demented, and painful death. Anyone who witnessed the agony, the near-constant screaming and thrashing about to find comfort that could not be found, could never get the image out of their mind; it was the most sickening experience of their life.

In less than a year, every male on Alfian Blue was dead. Because males were the only reservoir, the microbe was eradicated. Scientist from a group of planets, including Oria and Septadia, came to the rescue. They synthesized the Alfian Y chromosome, inserted it into an ovum, and were able to restore reproductive balance. A whole race was barely saved from extinction.

The introduction of the field equations to Earth by Paldius (aka Einstein) was a typical Tralarian shenanigan. When Paldius didn’t think things were moving fast enough, he even wrote a letter to President Franklin Roosevelt in 1939 to force the issue. “...the situation seem[s]... to call for quick action on the part of the administration. I believe therefore it is my duty to bring to your attention the following facts and recommendations...”

The prodding worked. Paldius actually bragged to his Tralarian friends that he couldn’t believe how easy it was to manipulate the leader of the strongest country on Earth. He laughed one of those laughs that is so hard and so intense that it makes your face hurt every time he told his friends about saying, “I believe it is my duty,” even trying to imitate Roosevelt’s accent. “What a chump that Roosevelt was,” he’d say, still roaring with laughter. The U.S. developed the bomb, and of course, the Earth’s society and political systems were not ready for the power. The results were predictable. The Tralarians deserve their appellation as the “Dilettantes of the Universe.”

Mozart, of course, was a Tralarian. He was actually a nice guy, but nobody could stand his laugh, so he was sent to Earth. Galileo was too. Maybe the Church was right to be suspicious of him.

Clonette Muzeal, one of the four female members and Vice Chairperson of the Committee, seated to Raton’s right, said “Do you mean Earth has nuclear power?”

“Not only nuclear power,” replied Rommeler quickly, “but more importantly, as it relates to us, nuclear weapons.”

As the Chairman said, “Two nuclear devices were used in the most recent planet-wide conflict,” the image of “Einstein” was replaced by the boiling, hell-on-earth mushroom cloud as it rose over Hiroshima, as filmed from the Enola Gay. “Since then, many more devices of immensely greater destructive capacity have been detonated both above and below ground.”

The newsreel of the few bewildered, scorched, almost naked survivors wandering through paths in the rubble that were previously the streets of the prosperous Hiroshima was replaced by the standard geopolitical map of Earth. Highlighted were two large countries in the Northern Hemisphere. As Rommeler said, “The two principal military powers on Earth are the United States of America and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics,” the other areas were deleted, leaving only North America on the left, and Europe and the U.S.S.R. on the right.

“The United States, arguably the Earth’s most democratic society, who boast of themselves as “leaders of the free world” and the U.S.S.R., also called Russia, a horribly repressive, totalitarian regime, each possess hundreds of atom bombs, and more recently, hydrogen, or thermonuclear, devices. They coexist in a precarious situation which they call détente, enforced only by the knowledge that they can annihilate each other, and everyone else, on Earth. They believe that being able to kill their enemies a hundred times over is better than killing them just once. If some of something is good, more is always better. In a perfect example of convergent social evolution, they have found by accident what has been known around our galaxy for centuries—that, even for the most roguish, seemingly out of touch regimes, the possibility of mutually assured destruction prevents mutually assured destruction.”

Data was displayed showing the number of soldiers, tanks, naval vessels, aircraft, and nuclear arsenals of the USA and U.S.S.R. The members of the Committee were all seasoned and experienced politicians and business executives. They thought they had seen it all, but presently found out they hadn’t. They were visibly stunned by the total number of nuclear weapons. Even the usually unflappable Wir-Gardena just shook his head.

Rommeler paused, quickly looking each Committee member in the eye. It was clear that he was about to tell them why they has been summoned to this emergency meeting.

“Three days ago, Rennedee himself left for Earth in a one-man, quark-drive fighter. When he arrives there three days from now, he will take over, possess, assimilate the body of a human, one who holds a position of great power and influence. We already know with a great deal of certainty who this will be. From this position it is his goal to cause political and military instability, to disrupt the détente. His ultimate goal is to precipitate nuclear war on Earth. In the confusion, he hopes to obtain six to ten nuclear warheads, as many as he can fit under the wings and inside his fighter, and return to Oria. It’s quite possible that within a fortnight, Rennedee could have nuclear weapons here on Oria, and we all know, he would not for one second hesitate to use them.”

Rommeler paused to let the news sink in.

There was silence. Several members looked like they were ready to ask questions or make a comment, but Blanck, Academia’s Representative on the Committee, spoke first. In his younger days, Blanck had been a competitive athlete. He was also an excellent musician and could speak six languages in addition to Orian. He was the definition of a polymath: a perfect example of the positive correlation of positive traits. There were some in Academia smarter than Blanck, but few were better with money and none were more pragmatic or better administrators.

Blanck’s specialty was political history; he could always relate an example to the topic under discussion, just as he did by loaning the book which still sat in front of the Chairman on the table. In his second year on the Committee of One Hundred, the Orians were in their first-ever negotiations with the Cas, a race from the Batlatl system. The dispute was over an Orian scientific outpost on Catlet Four situated in universally accepted neutral space. The talks were proceeding slowly.

Many years earlier while still in high school, Blanck had read a report that it was in the nature of the Cas that unless their always-unreasonable demands were met quickly, they would negotiate in bad faith while preparing a military strike. He advised that Oria secretly reinforce Catlet Four. The Cas attack that came six days later was easily repulsed, with the captured Casian soldiers and weapons providing considerable leverage to complete the negotiations to the Orian’s advantage.

When Blanck spoke, he either sat back in the chair with his legs crossed and hands clasped, both always left over right, or sat forward with his hands clasped on the table in front of him, again left over right. Blanck was never frantic, but right now he clearly felt compelled. He sat forward, with his left hand raised, fingers outstretched, his bent thumb seemingly glued to the side of his flat palm, waving his hand as the conductor of a symphony orchestra wields his baton to emphasize the dramatic finale of a Verdi overture.

“Under no circumstances,” he said waving his hand, “can we allow nuclear weapons to enter our solar system.” Blanck quickly realized that for one of the few times in his life, he had almost lost his composure. He slowly pulled his left hand down to assume his usual posture with both hands clasped, left over right, on the table in front of him. He took a breath, straightened his shoulders, and continued on.

“We have had no nuclear weapons on Oria for the five centuries since the construction of the Rankin Cube. We have no defenses against such weapons, nor the ability to construct any in this short time. As you all know, an amount equal to what I would estimate at less than ten percent of the nuclear weapons on Earth were deployed two centuries ago in the Gritt Wars. All life, down to the tiniest microbe, everything, absolutely everything, was wiped out on all four planets of their system. They are still just barren rocks, devoid of life, as nourishing as the slag from a blast furnace, and will remain uninhabitable for longer than our minds can imagine. The adjacent space is so contaminated that the entire system remains under quarantine.”

Blanck shook his head in resignation. “Science has given us the capability to obliterate life, and unfortunately, we seem to use it all too often.”