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Alien Offer
An Excerpt from the book-
I
"You are General James Rothwell?"
Rothwell sighed. "Yes, Commander Aku. We have met several times."
"Ah, yes. I recognize your insignia. Humans are so alike." The alien
strode importantly across the office, the resilient pads of his broad
feet making little plopping sounds on the rug, and seated himself
abruptly in the visitor's chair beside Rothwell's desk. He gave a sharp
cry, and another alien, shorter, but sporting similar, golden fur,
stepped into the office and closed the door. Both wore simple, brown
uniforms, without ornamentation.
"I am here," Aku said, "to tell you something." He stared impassively at
Rothwell for a minute, his fur-covered, almost human face completely
expressionless, then his gaze shifted to the window, to the hot runways
of New York International Airport and to the immense gray spaceship
that, even from the center of the field, loomed above the hangars and
passenger buildings. For an instant, a quick, unguessable emotion
clouded the wide black eyes and tightened the thin lips, then it was
gone.
Rothwell waited.
"General, Earth's children must all be aboard my ships within one week.
We will start to load on the sixth day, next Thursday." He stood.
[Illustration: The aliens supervised the loading as anguished parents
looked on.]
Rothwell locked eyes with the alien, and leaned forward, grinding his
knuckles into the desk top. "You know that's impossible. We can't select
100,000 children from every country and assemble them in only six days."
"You will do it." The alien turned to leave.
"Commander Aku! Let me remind you ..."
Aku spun around, eyes flashing. "General Rothwell! Let _me_ remind you
that two weeks ago I didn't even know Earth existed, and since
accidentally happening across your sun system and learning of your
trouble I have had my entire trading fleet of a hundred ships in orbit
about this planet while all your multitudinous political subdivisions
have filled the air with talk and wrangle.
"I am sorry for Earth, but my allegiance is to my fleet and I cannot
remain longer than seven more days and risk being caught up in your
destruction. Now, either you accept my offer to evacuate as many humans
as my ships will carry, or you don't." He paused. "You are the planet's
evacuation coordinator; you will give me an answer."
* * * * *
Rothwell's arms sagged, he sunk back down into his chair, all pretense
gone. Slowly he swung around to face the window and the gray ship,
standing like a Gargantuan sundial counting the last days of Earth. He
almost whispered. "We are choosing the children. They will be ready in
six days."
He heard the door open and close. He was alone.
Five years ago, he thought, we cracked the secret of faster-than-light
travel, and since then we've built about three dozen exploration ships
and sent them out among the stars to see what they could see.
He stared blankly at the palms of his hand. I wonder what it was we
expected to find?
We found that the galaxy was big, that there were a lot of stars, not so
many planets, and practically no other life--at least no intelligence to
compare with ours. Then ... He jabbed a button on his intercom.
I
"You are General James Rothwell?"
Rothwell sighed. "Yes, Commander Aku. We have met several times."
"Ah, yes. I recognize your insignia. Humans are so alike." The alien
strode importantly across the office, the resilient pads of his broad
feet making little plopping sounds on the rug, and seated himself
abruptly in the visitor's chair beside Rothwell's desk. He gave a sharp
cry, and another alien, shorter, but sporting similar, golden fur,
stepped into the office and closed the door. Both wore simple, brown
uniforms, without ornamentation.
"I am here," Aku said, "to tell you something." He stared impassively at
Rothwell for a minute, his fur-covered, almost human face completely
expressionless, then his gaze shifted to the window, to the hot runways
of New York International Airport and to the immense gray spaceship
that, even from the center of the field, loomed above the hangars and
passenger buildings. For an instant, a quick, unguessable emotion
clouded the wide black eyes and tightened the thin lips, then it was
gone.
Rothwell waited.
"General, Earth's children must all be aboard my ships within one week.
We will start to load on the sixth day, next Thursday." He stood.
[Illustration: The aliens supervised the loading as anguished parents
looked on.]
Rothwell locked eyes with the alien, and leaned forward, grinding his
knuckles into the desk top. "You know that's impossible. We can't select
100,000 children from every country and assemble them in only six days."
"You will do it." The alien turned to leave.
"Commander Aku! Let me remind you ..."
Aku spun around, eyes flashing. "General Rothwell! Let _me_ remind you
that two weeks ago I didn't even know Earth existed, and since
accidentally happening across your sun system and learning of your
trouble I have had my entire trading fleet of a hundred ships in orbit
about this planet while all your multitudinous political subdivisions
have filled the air with talk and wrangle.
"I am sorry for Earth, but my allegiance is to my fleet and I cannot
remain longer than seven more days and risk being caught up in your
destruction. Now, either you accept my offer to evacuate as many humans
as my ships will carry, or you don't." He paused. "You are the planet's
evacuation coordinator; you will give me an answer."
* * * * *
Rothwell's arms sagged, he sunk back down into his chair, all pretense
gone. Slowly he swung around to face the window and the gray ship,
standing like a Gargantuan sundial counting the last days of Earth. He
almost whispered. "We are choosing the children. They will be ready in
six days."
He heard the door open and close. He was alone.
Five years ago, he thought, we cracked the secret of faster-than-light
travel, and since then we've built about three dozen exploration ships
and sent them out among the stars to see what they could see.
He stared blankly at the palms of his hand. I wonder what it was we
expected to find?
We found that the galaxy was big, that there were a lot of stars, not so
many planets, and practically no other life--at least no intelligence to
compare with ours. Then ... He jabbed a button on his intercom.
23 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 1959
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
September 28, 2021
First contact story delivered in a serviceable style and with little of the moral complexity which would come later to the genre. Only really interesting as an artifact of the era.
Displaying 1 of 1 review