Author: Hillary Lyon
The room fell silent as the Admiral strode into the briefing room. He snapped on a holographic representation of a small solar system. The planets on display swirled in their orbits around the ghostly sun.
“For the last several generations,” he began, “we’ve been grooming the inhabitants of this particular planet. A beautiful, wonderful world teeming with diverse life and resources.” He pointed to the third world from the sun. “When we had proof positive they’d managed to create—and employ—nuclear weapons, we knew it was time to establish contact.”
He walked into the middle of the whirling display. “First we came as creatures from their religious traditions. We appeared tall, beautiful, well-spoken, and peaceful. Our mission then was to reason with them. Convince them to disarm. Our mistake in that endeavor was not contacting their leaders directly.” He snorted. “No one listened to farmers and lonely travelers.”
“We attempted next disguised as small gray-fleshed insect-like creatures. We thought perhaps we could scare them into giving up their weapons.” He scowled. “Didn’t work. Like the first time, we failed to inform their leaders directly. Nobody paid attention to the warnings of artists and writers.”
He backed out of the holographic display. “Our latest tactic has been to embed agents in the sciences and governments. Influential positions of power.” For the first time in this presentation, he smiled, revealing compact rows of needle-like crystal teeth. “At last, we have success!” His prehensile tail swished with delight.
A hand shot up in the audience. Now that the Admiral was visibly happy, it was safe to ask questions. “You there,” the Admiral said, “have a question?”
The grunt stood up, trembling. What an honor to be recognized by the Admiral! He stuttered his query: “Why are we being so diplomatic with these creatures?” He puffed up his chest to bolster his appearance. His kind despised those who appeared weak. “Why treat them differently from inhabitants of other worlds? What makes them so special?”
“You ask not A question,” the Admiral answered as his eyes stretched into slits, always a warning sign, “but THREE.”
Quaking, the grunt paled into camouflage coloring that blended him into the background. He became almost invisible. The Admiral laughed at the grunt’s anxiety, a grating sound like a blade scraping against a whetstone.
“Because these inhabitants,” the Admiral answered, “are still in their civilizational infancy. We want to persuade them. Influence their decision.” As he spoke cold fog leaked from the corners of his mouth. “Make them think disarmament is their idea.”
“But why?” The grunt pushed on.
The Admirals eyes returned to their normal oval shape as he pondered the question. “Theirs is a wonderful world. One of the most pristine eco-systems we’ve yet encountered. Its resources are perfect for our needs.” He snapped off the holographic display. “Wouldn’t want to do anything to damage it.”
He pounded his fist against his chest once and scaly armor tore through his skin, covering his entire body. The grunts followed suit. “You see,” he said addressing his audience, “voluntarily giving up their nuclear weapons will make these emotional, immature creatures feel righteous and self-satisfied.” The Admiral smiled again, a full glinting smile that stretched from ear to ear. “And this will make it so much easier for us…” He reached behind and grabbed his helmet, set it on his head. “When we invade.” He lowered his visor.