Escaping the Cradle

by Karen Page

Part 34

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Part 34
DATE:FC+132

The date was set. The action agreed. Politics was sometimes a bitch, but so was life.

"You're going home," the three prisoners had been told.

"Home? Basingstoke?" They'd still protested their innocence and hadn't budged on their cover story.

When the house they were staying at had been stormed, they'd maintained that they were chemical technicians working for a paint's startup. When they were taken outside to be taken away, they saw the chemical warfare teams and knew that someone had blabbed. They'd maintained their cover during questioning but knew that their task had been uncovered.

"Hardly. I don't know the details, only that special transport is being laid on."

The three prisoners were bundled into a dark tinted car and driven away. Their destination was RAF Northolt. There they saw a transport plane being loaded with coffins. Each draped with the American flag. Each coffin was being removed from a hearse and placed into the plane with dignity and care.

If they hadn't known by then that things had gone wrong, it was plainly obvious then. It was also obvious that the British knew where they'd come from. This was going to be difficult when they got home. Being caught was bad enough. Getting caught on an ally's territory was unforgivable.

They didn't have the same dignity. They were loaded onto the plane in irons. They were seated separately and chained to their chair. They weren't going anywhere. Not that they'd have had anywhere to go once the plane was airborne.

The flight was uneventful, uncomfortable and boring. They were provided food and drink, and access to facilities, but everything was escorted, observed and logged. No privacy. No chance to escape. No chance to make the ultimate sacrifice to save further embarrassment.

The American Ambassador was summoned to King Charles Street, to the UK Foreign Office. On his arrival he was ushered up the regal stairs to one of the formal offices. He'd not been there long when the Foreign Secretary himself appeared with a small entourage. None of them looked friendly and there was an air of tension.

Formally, and rather stiffly, the Foreign Secretary said, "His Majesty's government views, with the gravest concern, the actions of an ally placing agents on United Kingdom soil. Arranging murder of two of His Majesty's officials and kidnapping His Majesty's subjects."

The US Ambassador looked stunned but didn't say anything.

"A repatriation flight recently took off, heading to your country. This contains coffins of eight of your agents and three that we had in custody."

A young woman passed a document to the US Ambassador. He took it but didn't glance at the names.

"That contains a list of the people on the flight, their names, ranks and social security numbers. The dead are being transported back in formal coffins draped in your flag. If you want the relatives to attend a repatriation ceremony, they won't see anything amiss."

The US Ambassador wondered what had been happening but said neutrally. "I will relay your message to my government."

"Your President and our Prime Minister are due to meet later at the United Nations. I hope she doesn't have to raise this personally."

The Ambassador left after that. This wasn't like his normal relationship with the UK Government. Within ten minutes of his arrival, he'd been dressed down and sent on his way. In his hands he had the formal aide-mémoire. The underlying controlled anger in that meeting was not like any meeting he'd had in this country. Whatever his government had done had really upset them.

Yet they appeared to be keeping it quiet. He looked at the UK news sites, and there was no mention about him being summoned, or an official protest. They were keeping up appearances. That was worthy of mention too.

The Foreign Secretary turned to his assistant and sighed. "One down, one to go. Call the French Ambassador."

* * *

Georgina Harries sighed as she arrived at the UN Building. The plane journey through the night, the awkward journey from Teterboro Airport where her motorcade blocked normal traffic causing delays for New Yorkers trying to get to work. It all seemed so wasteful. When she had visited the alien council she would have been there and back.

World leaders didn't go through the front door. Arrivals, like any other movement at the UN, were carefully choreographed. There was never a queue of leaders. They had their arrival slots and drew up at the VIP entrance. UN Protocol and Liaison services would then guide them to their meeting room.

On her first visit to the UN, she realized that reports of a world leader just happening to meet another leader in the corridor must have been totally fake. Nobody moved within that building unless Protocol had cleared it and confirmed it didn't conflict with anybody else. When you were in a corridor, there was zero chance another leader would be in that corridor at the same time.

The Prime Minister and her entourage were escorted to their base meeting room. For her stay here, this would be their base. Meetings were arranged and Protocol had arranged their movements to larger rooms. Discussions on pre-arranged topics would then take place. Events like this were carefully planned. Nothing happened on a whim. Well, not normally.

After the UK Ambassador to the UN politely greeted the Prime Minister, she said impishly, "No aliens this time?"

"They're on the agenda, but hopefully no visit this time," confirmed the Prime Minister as several in the room looked up in alarm.

"Rupert," the Prime Minister called. "You've visited the alien station with me a few times now. What scared you the most?"

Rupert was surprised to be called upon like this. "Being in space," he responded. "Weightlessness just added to that fear. Being at the alien space station was fine. It had gravity. I didn't actually realize we weren't on a planet until I saw we were over a large gas giant."

"Not seeing the aliens?" one of the ambassador aides asked.

"Surprisingly, no. I'm sure we look very strange to them, but they didn't flinch when we arrived at the Rohastin Council. Perhaps it was the setting that made it easier. It was just like going to any foreign state event. That similarity to what happens here made it seem less alien."

The Prime Minister smiled. Rupert had done more to calm people down than she would have been able to do. She was expected to be fearless. With Rupert, there wasn't that reputation.

"Okay, let's get to work. Has there been any change in the UN plans?"

"No. A large group to try to come to some consensus. Countries don't want to give up sovereignty."

"This is why this seems such an impossible task," agreed the Prime Minister. "Yet the offer is so tempting. There are also items that aren't country related. Defence of the planet. Exploration. Mining. These things didn't exist before. Even if we don't join the Rohastin Council, we can't continue as we are for long."

There was a knock on the door. It was the escort to take the Prime Minister and their UN Ambassador to the hall. It was a closed session, the only ones there were five UN officials, 193 leaders with their ambassador and a bank of interpreters. They sat in the chairs facing the front, but the usual podium on the raised platform wasn't being used. This was a more intimate affair, and those speaking would do so from their seat.

As they moved towards their seats, Georgina caught sight of Ramon de la Cruz, the UN officer in charge of alien knowledge. She angled towards him, but a Protocol aide stepped neatly into her path. There was to be no deviation from the plan.

Instead, she lifted a hand and beckoned. To her surprise, Ramon hesitated only a moment before crossing the aisle.

"Prime Minister?" he asked, as the Protocol representative tutted audibly and tried to steer her forward.

"I have something for you." She slipped a small USB drive from her pocket. "I believe this contains not just the primer, but an intermediate-level copy of Hytuna."

Ramon's eyes widened. "Grabe! My goodness. Really? How—"

He never got the chance to finish. Her escort's voice cut in, formal and insistent. "Prime Minister, I must insist you take your seat. You are holding up proceedings."

A small gathering like this was unique. This wasn't like the General Assembly which was about speeches. This was a global discussion. The first of this scale and intimacy. Even the most powerful nations were equal in their representation. Those with observer status, such as the EU, were in rooms close by; only permitted to watch via internal television feeds. It was a closed meeting to stop grandstanding.

"This gathering is unprecedented," said the Secretary General. "But then, so is the situation before us. Since the dawn of humanity, we have lived on Earth wondering if there was anything beyond. Since the beginning of the year, we have known the answer."

He paused, allowing the interpreters to catch up, the words rippling into six languages across the hall.

"We then learned of Aurora. And with that knowledge, we must admit that some of our treaties on space now look antiquated. They were written in another century, when only governments reached beyond the atmosphere.

"But today, the challenge is large. We have always protected our nations and resources against one another. Now we must protect the planet. Not from each other, but from forces outside our world.

"This responsibility cannot rest with a single country. It must be shared by all humanity."

He pointed to the screen.

"This encounter was caught by a space‑tracking camera."

Aurora shimmered into view over Australia. A ship appeared, nudging her orbit with impossible precision. A second vessel followed seconds later. Most in the chamber had heard the tale; very few had seen the footage. They leaned forward, breath held, waiting. The third ship arrived — and in the same instant was seized, held fast, and then all three vanished together.

"That last ship belonged to a race called the Yvestigans," the Secretary‑General said. His voice was measured, but the chamber stirred. "They are openly hostile to humanity. They objected to Earth's invitation and have twice attempted assassinating people currently in this room. Because of their actions, they were expelled from the Rohastin Council. The first two ships you saw were sent to protect us, as prospective candidates. But we cannot rely on their guardianship forever."

He let the words settle, then continued. "Since our last Rohastin Council visit, each of you has received a briefing pack. Based on those discussions, we must now decide: do we join? And if so, how do we meet the requirement of a single representation of humanity?"

The chamber erupted. Three delegates rose at once, each in a different language, voices colliding. The interpreters faltered, their words tangling into static.

A harsh burst of white noise filled the earpieces, snapping the hall into silence.

"Decorum, please," the Secretary‑General said firmly. "I know you are used to debate in your own parliaments. But here, we do not share a single tongue. If you all speak at once, there can be no translation."

From the benches, Georgina caught the Irish Taoiseach's mutter, his microphone off, "Perhaps we should do this in Hytuna."

A ripple of chuckles spread among those close enough to hear.

As the morning progressed, the world leaders fell into a rhythm, pausing after each phrase to let interpreters catch up. It became clear that the first question was inseparable from the second. What form a world government would take. It had taken two hours to get to that.

"Mother Russia will not be subservient," declared the Russian President. "We will not have Western countries telling us what to do. The proposed structure seems to give that. I propose that Russia has a veto on all rules passed down."

The Libyan leader leaned forward, speaking with deliberate calm. "Your representative agreed on equal representation. We all did."

"Yes, but we have bigger landmass," the Russian responded. And then with a slight glint in his eye continued, "But we are not unreasonable. If the World Government is headquartered in Moscow, perhaps we would be less concerned."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the hall. The Russian's had made the first move, but the day was young.

"That is a very generous offer and will be added to the growing list. It might be more productive if we leave that type of discussion until we examine the structure that government might take."

"I have a query regarding the commitments," said the Indian Prime Minister. "The clause on rescue and medical aid if something happens in our space. This is like the Outer Space Treaty and its extension, the Rescue Agreement. However, our doctors aren't familiar with their biology, and they won't be familiar with ours. Is there some mechanism for expanding our xenobiology?"

"There are a few areas to cover on this area," agreed Ramon de la Cruz. "All outstanding points will be covered before any agreement with the Rohastin Council can be reached."

"I have listened to this discussion, and I have a suggestion," said the President of the Republic of Côte d'Ivoire. He was a quiet and unassuming man in his fifties, with a tired look. This was the first time he'd ever left his country. "For a long time, our country suffered from despots and leaders hanging on to power. Democracy didn't exist. We had people who thought they knew best, but all they were interested in was staying in power."

The room was quiet, and he stood gazing across the room with wonder. "This is such a huge decision, I don't think we can or should bear that responsibility. A decision of this magnitude must be decided by the people. I've seen referendum cause issues where the vote is dissected and some say, my area didn't vote for that. Of a vote this large, and of such magnitude, we must resist that. I suggest a single worldwide count. Join: yes or no."

Still, he didn't sit. He waited for the translation to be completed and then finished with his final slice of wisdom. "The UN has never administered a vote like this. Nobody has. I know it will take time to organize. But that would give us time, and a deadline, to decide on what format a world government and its institutions would have. Without a deadline, I fear we will never reach a decision."

This was different from what had been considered. A new idea which caught some leader's imagination.

Georgina heard the Russian President bellow. "Vtoraya Perestroika."

The Secretary-General called order. "Why don't we stop for lunch. That is a lot to think about."

Lunch might have been a time for mingling with other leaders. A time to broker a deal. But not at the UN. Just like when they came into the hall, they were escorted out by the protocol team back to their individual room.

"Well, that was unexpected," said Craig to the Prime Minister as she entered the small meeting room. Her team had been watching the proceedings on the televisions in the room.

"A total abdication of responsibility," said the Prime Minister. "But it might be the only solution that will pass. Kick the question down the road and make others decide."

"True democracy though," Craig added.

The Prime Minister could only nod before Protocol arrived to take her to her lunchtime meeting with the US President. Rupert followed behind.

They were the first to arrive at one of the discreet dining-rooms where the UN would facilitate a working lunch. The table, covered in a white damask cloth was set for four people. It was just going to be the Prime Minister, Rupert, the US President and whoever was taking notes for him.

They didn't have to wait long before the tall and imposing figure of the US President strolled into the room. Georgina greeted him, and they all sat down. Catering weren't long and when it was just the four of them, they settled down to talk and perhaps manage to get some food.

"State got your message," said the President, opening the conversation.

"I get the team trying to get information. I don't get your death squad."

"Aurora is making some people very nervous." He put his hand up to the two making notes. John, his deputy chief of staff, instantly complied. When Georgina gave a small nod to Rupert, he put his pen down too. "They weren't sanctioned."

That was franker than the Prime Minister had expected, and she took a small bite of her cod while she considered.

"It's such a shame you're being so stubborn about letting them land in your country. Your NASA people had to go abroad for Eos to transport them into space. They also managed to provide medication to your scientist when ill on the space station."

"I don't appreciate your tone," the President said coldly, glaring at the Prime Minister. He meant to point with his finger, but found his knife was in his hand, so pointed with that. "That technology is dangerous. It could be used to blow up my office. You really need to rein them in. Make them part of your military or something. I thought your country would be better with you in control, but you're just as sloppy as your predecessor."

John looked uncomfortable, and murmured something to his boss, but he just continued to glare at Georgina.

She put down her cutlery and gave an exasperated sigh. "I was hoping we'd be able to sort out our differences. We are talking leader to leader. Yes, your country is bigger and more powerful than mine, but we aren't in the West Wing. You are also no longer the most powerful country in the world, so stop trying to act like it."

She continued in a more measured tone. "Remember, it isn't just Star Bright with that technology. Aliens have it too. I've had holograms of them appear in my office. If I remember right, you didn't meet with them when they came to the UN. You sent your National Security Advisor." She looked him directly in the eye. "Were you too scared?"

John and Rupert glanced at each other. Neither of them jotted down that accusation.

"Frankly, yes," the President replied honestly, surprising everyone including himself. "I've got to admit, you've got balls."

Rupert winced and tried to cover it up by having some food before it got cold.

"Had balls," she said, without a care. If he'd meant it as a reference to previous state, she'd long got past that. "And the aliens I've met are highly intelligent and very friendly. Ooh, is that one over there?"

The President looked around, and then scowled, when he realised that she'd played him. "So, what are you going to do about this Star Bright?"

She smiled. "Nothing. So much for America being the land of the free. They are a private company, and I'll let them continue that way. We are keeping an eye on them to make sure they abide by the law, even when it seems a bit outdated. They understand the security risks of the technology, which is why they've not published more information."

With an icy cold tone, she said. "But your team getting Earth Fist to kidnap two small girls is not acceptable. It sounds more like they want the secrets rather than trying to destroy it. My General is locked up for doing that. Are you going to do the same?"

Rupert had seen the Prime Minister in many meetings over the years, but this was the first one he'd seen her totally disrespecting the person sat opposite her. He'd seen her upset. He'd seen her angry. This was worse. Yet she'd never shouted or raised her voice.

"It's totally upset our business too," he complained, ignoring her jibe. "The rocket businesses look like they might fail. Probably our airplane companies too."

"They don't have to. They just need to adapt, but your protectionism isn't helping them. Your largest aircraft manufacturer has been struggling for years. Crashes and doors falling off don't help them."

"They create a lot of jobs. The economy is having a hard time as it is. I can't lose those types of tax revenues. And if unemployment goes up too much, I might lose the midterms."

"Star Bright are scientists, not ship builders. But while you still have an airplane manufacturer, why don't they build a ship and get Star Bright to provide the engine. It's no different from them buying airplane engines. I'm surprised Airbus haven't come knocking yet."

John was scribbling away at that, nodding as if he was thinking of the opportunity.

She continued, "You would have had the first satellite launched by them too, but your FAA has been pig-headed. I know they put pressure on the CAA to not allow the UK launch."

He shrugged, unrepentant. "It gives chance for the rocket companies to bring in some capital. My job is to serve America, not make life easier for you."

"Give me a minute to think," she said. It was politer than saying she wanted to actually eat a bit more. She'd noticed that Rupert hadn't had chance to eat much and it would help him too.

When she'd cleared her plate, she glanced across at the President. "I understand your economy was basically destroyed ten years ago and the leader after that didn't help much to fix it. Let's see if we can work together instead of working against each other." She smirked. "Let's do a deal."

He winced at the phrase. "What do you have in mind?"

"Stop your agencies from using my country as a playground. I will ask Star Bright about providing engines if your companies build ships. You lost too many good scientists over the last decade. I'm sure they will love having new frontiers."

"I'm not sure about this world government idea," he said plaintively. "I'm not sure if I'll be able to sell it."

"Which bit?" she enquired.

"The military coming under world government control. What happens if Russia invades."

"Do you need military on the chance that Florida might invade Georgia?"

"Of course not," he responded indignantly. John looked across, trying to understand. He was from Florida, so wondered if the Prime Minister had chosen those states deliberately.

"It will be no different between Russia and America. Just two countries under a world government. I'd be more worried about the Yvestigans than the Russians. They've tried to kill me twice already."

"And you're wanting to bargain with these aliens?" he asked incredulously.

"They're not all bad. In fact, it might just be the leadership of the Yvestigans and not even the population. The other alien races I've met have been great. One bad apple doesn't mean the tree is diseased."

The President leaned back, his knife finally set down, his voice quieter now. "Why are you so passionate about this?"

Georgina didn't answer straight away. She let the silence stretch, a faint smile tugging at her mouth as she folded her napkin, eyes never leaving his.

Across the table, Rupert's pen hovered, unsure whether to write. John glanced between them, waiting.

And then the President's expression shifted, realisation dawning. His voice dropped, almost grudgingly. "Peace," he said. "That's been your life, hasn't it? World peace."