Prologue
The Call
5th of Fifthmoon, 6 Charles 9
Melodin Naval Air Station, Cardis Province, Kingdom of Byrandia
The Melodin Naval Air Station was positioned at the easternmost point in the kingdom. Should war break out with the Palatinians again, the garrison would be at the tip of the spear. So that Byrandia did not find herself taken by surprise, listening stations in Neveland and spy ships out in the North Sea were constantly monitoring Palatinian radio transmissions and sending back anything that might be useful for analysis by the Second Bureau.
Lieutenant Claude Henric was one of the dozens of analysts who processed the Palatinian transmission for review by the higher-ups. Though not the most fluent in Palatinian in his office, he was good at doing translation quickly, which was a useful skill when seconds matter. He had yet to find a time when such haste was needed, but it was important to keep those skills sharp. It was just a matter of time before the next war broke out. They had to be ready.
Lieutenant Henric was listening in on a test signal that was part of the Palatinians latest attempt at a coded broadcast, but the Byrandians had already decoded it and could retransmit it clearly back to Melodin. It would definitely be to their advantage if the Palatinians did not figure out that their code had been compromised. Why they thought merely scrambling the signal would be enough was a mystery. Some of the more paranoid analysts thought it was a red herring to distract them, but Lieutenant Henric was inclined to believe they really were that incompetent.
Even though the test signal was almost certainly nothing more than a mere test, Lieutenant Henric dutifully translated it all the same. However, while he was in the middle of that, the transmission abruptly changed. The signal was clearer, like it did not need to pass through the filters, and instead of short, tentative bursts of words and numbers, it was plain speech.
Lieutenant Henric typed away as he listened to the strange speech.
"Greetings to our long-lost brothers and sisters in humanity. Do not be afraid. We come in peace. You have been like sheep scattered by wolves, but we have come to welcome you back into the fold. You are not alone. We call on the governments of your world to respond to this invitation. We will be sending our emissaries to your leaders so that we can make a smooth transition to a shining new era. Hope and prosperity await you all. We come with an open hand. May you answer in kind. You will have 72 hours to prepare your response. Peace and blessings be on you all."
The words then repeated. Lieutenant Henric translated them a second time just in case he missed something or there was something that had changed. It proved to be identical and then repeated a third time.
Lieutenant Henric took off his headset and turned to Lieutenant Caillou, one of his fellow analysts, saying, "Hey, Bat, get a load of this."
He pulled the sheet from his typewriter and showed it to Lieutenant Caillou. Caillou squinted, then pulled the sheet from his own typewriter and held the two side by side.
"Are you on the same channel as me or something?" Caillou asked.
"I don't think so," Lieutenant Henric replied. "Twenty-one point seven?"
"Twenty-three point two," Caillou said. "That's odd."
Ensign Revaille, one of the new additions to their section, looked up from his station and asked, "What're you talking about?"
"Oh, we've picked up a weird broadcast," Caillou said. "Apparently it's on both our channels."
"I've got something weird too," Ensign Revaille said.
He took the sheet from his typewriter and despite some obvious translation errors, it was clearly the same broadcast.
"Why would they be broadcasting this on all channels?" Caillou asked.
"I don't think the Pallies," Lieutenant Henric said. "Let's show this to the Captain."
The three of them wet to the office of their section leader, Captain Marechal. Lieutenant Henric knocked on the door and a voice inside said, "Enter."
When they walked in, Captain Marechal appeared distracted, asking them, "Why are you three away from your workstations?"
Lieutenant Henric delivered the three papers to the Captain's desk and said, "Look at these, sir. We're all monitoring different channels, but were getting the same broadcast. I don't think it's the Palatinians, though. I think someone's hijacking the bands."
Captain Marechal did not look surprised. He simply reached over to the radio set on his desk and turned up the volume.
The same broadcast was playing. Same words, same voice. Only it was not in Palatinian. The voice was speaking in Franca.
"What the hell?"
It was a question none of them could answer.
* * *
There was a secret level under the Lemaire Palace known as 'the Basement' where matters of state that required the utmost secrecy were discussed. Four of the five Secretaries of State and a few leading members of the General Staff had been assembled by the King to formulate a plan of action in response to the current situation.
Although it was common for kings to wear military uniforms for certain official functions, the only time King Charles was seen out of uniform was during his private time, of which there was precious little. After his sister's dysfunctional reign, he believed it was important to demonstrate that discipline, honor and reserve had returned to the government and this was just one small way of projecting that image. He would be relying on the people's confidence now more than ever.
"Thank you for coming, gentlemen," the King said. "I want to be sure everyone's on the same page, so let's review. General Boyer."
General Boyer, the director of the Second Bureau, rose from his seat and replied, "Yes, Your Majesty. At 8:45 Benvenue Mean Time, a radio signal of unknown origin was broadcasted on all channels. It appears to be an invitation to diplomacy, but the deadline given at the end has more of a threatening tone, like an ultimatum rather than a request, but the consequences of not responding were left unstated.
"We were not the only ones to receive this signal. According to our listening stations around the world, the same signal was simultaneously broadcasted on all channels in other countries as well and in each country, the broadcast was in the local language. Palatinian in Palatinia, Slanoan in Slanoa and so on. In other words, every nation that transmits radio signals received the broadcast in their own language. What's more, voice analysis indicates that it is the same speaker. We can conclude the message must be a recording to have be broadcasted in so many languages simultaneously, but the flawless delivery in so many languages by a single person strains credulity. According to our linguists, even the most proficient polyglot gives some clues to their native tongue, but while analysis is still ongoing, no such clue has been found yet.
"The 72-hour deadline for a response is another point of interest. Our days are 28 hours, so it does not represent an even division of days. One rather clever analyst noted that in several languages there is a tendency to speak about time in factors of twelve even though it makes no sense based on our clock. In the case of a 24-hour day, 72 hours would be a natural expression for three days. A 24-hour day makes more sense computationally speaking and there have been those who have questioned why our hours are timed as they are. It is said to be a legacy from before the Day of Silence."
"Which would mean that time is measured by a standard outside our world," the King said. "And on that note, you may be aware that shortly after my coronation, a thought experiment codenamed 'Arkangel' was introduced in the service academies, the staff colleges, and the Institute of Political Studies. In the thought experiment, participants have to formulate a response to first contact with an extraterrestrial civilization that has an overwhelming technological advantage. The reason for this thought experiment was to prepare our military and civil leaders for this day."
"Your Majesty, surely you must be jesting," Lord Francis the interior minister said.
"Do you think I'd be joking at a time like this?" the King asked. "No, I am being quite serious. I've been expecting this for the past eleven years."
"Your Majesty?"
"This has been kept under the strictest secrecy, so only a few of you here know about it. Eleven years ago, an unidentified flying object passed through our airspace, landing in the Benefide region of the Neveland. An expedition was dispatched to investigate. I was on that expedition, back in the days when I would travel incognito throughout the kingdom.
"The unidentified flying object was an alien spacecraft, a scientific research vessel hailing from the New Earth Empire. They were surveying our planet in advance of a fleet that would be coming to bring us under the rule of this Empire. Only one man made direct contact with these aliens and he returned with a dire warning. The commander of the fleet is a man who doesn't take any slight to the dignity of his Empire well. If provoked, he would go so far as to purge the world of all life."
"Purge the world!?" General Haviland the Army Chief of Staff balked. "Impossible. All the firepower in the world would not—"
"General," the King interrupted, "you would do well not to think in terms of our current level of technology. If a civilization is advanced enough for space travel, the ability to destroy a planet isn't that much of a leap of logic. Supposedly the New Earth Empire spans thousands of worlds, so what's the loss of one or two in their eyes?"
"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Lord Bartlebert the foreign minister said, "but this fleet commander, you described him as 'a man who does not take slights lightly' or some such. 'A man', yes?"
"Yes," the King replied. "These aliens aren't lizard people or floating squids. They're humans, just like any of us. Perhaps not quite just like us, but close enough. In fact, if their story is correct, then our ancestors were subjects of their Empire before the Day of Silence. At any rate, the threat we face is an existential one and so we must deal wisely with these aliens. My proposal is that we enter negotiations with them. If we can proceed peaceably, that will be in everyone's best interests."
"And if we cannot proceed peaceably?" Lord Maurice the war minister asked.
"We will of course have all commands on alert and ready to act, but I don't think it will do us much good. After all, how much good did resistance do the Ebonians when the major powers carved up their lands?"
"Surely it is not as bad as all that, Your Majesty," said Lord Winton the minister of the Navy and the Colonies.
"Oh, it's far worse," King Charles replied. "As General Haviland said, all the firepower in the world couldn't do a fraction of what they can do to us."
"Assuming such a threat is credible, Your Majesty," General Balliard the Air Force Chief of Staff said.
"We underestimate them at our peril, General," the King said gravely.
"But, Your Majesty," Lord Bartlebert said, "it would appear that you are advocating surrender without firing a shot."
"My hope is that it doesn't come to that. I would like to think that we can proceed in a spirit of friendly cooperation."
"I don't have to tell you that hope is not a strategy, Your Majesty," General Haviland said.
"I'm all too aware, General," the King replied, "but if you don't hope, you're only going to despair."
"When are you going to inform Parliament, Your Majesty?" Lord Francis asked.
"Not until I have something to report. I would like to at least complete the first round of negotiations before making a public appearance."
"Everyone with a radio set heard the broadcast, Your Majesty. We cannot keep this a secret."
"Tell them that we are still investigating the source of the signal. There is no need to change the story yet."
"The peers will demand answers. The people will demand answers."
"We will give them answers when we have answers to give," the King said. "In the meantime, your job is to keep the peace, Lord Francis." The King turned to the foreign minister. "Lord Bartlebert."
"Yes, Your Majesty?" Lord Bartlebert replied.
"I want every embassy in communication with the local governments. We need to know how they're responding to the situation."
"They will be asking the same of us, Your Majesty. What will we tell them?"
"Tell them that we are weighing our response, but that we want to avoid hostilities."
"I fear we will only get the same ambiguous answer from anyone else."
"There's still merit in knowing their official stance," the King said. "And as a matter of form, Lord Bartlebert, your ministry will be the one to reach out to our guests. As long as we can manage it, I want this handled like an ordinary international exchange. Assemble a team of your best diplomats, preferably younger men with the sort of mental agility and flexibility needed for a situation like this. Keep it small for starters and expand it later as needed."
"How do you want to respond, Your Majesty?"
"Tell them that we are prepared to receive their emissaries and if possible, try to confirm that they are in fact the New Earth Empire. If they're someone else, we're going to need to revise our assumptions."
"What do you intend to do if their opening move is to demand our unconditional surrender?" Lord Maurice asked.
"It is my belief that though they have the firepower to destroy us, they don't have the manpower to subdue us. Why else would they bother burning worlds that defy them? It's a waste of resources."
"Sometimes power is used for power's sake, Your Majesty," Lord Winton said. "Think of some of the punitive actions taken in the Colonies. They were not based on calculating resources."
"The fact of the matter is that we know too little," the King said, "and the only way we're going to learn more is by going forward."
"We insult the pride of this kingdom by groveling to these aliens like beggars," General Haviland said.
"We're not groveling like beggars, General," the King countered, "and pride won't save the twenty million lives in this kingdom and her colonies. We're going to preserve our dignity as much as we can, but you and everyone else here need to understand that we are like ants before the Eye of God. I only pray they don't feel the need to prove that to us."
A silence fell over the assembly. The Chiefs of Staff in particular looked rather discontent. Byrandia prided herself on her armed forces, but it was not the League of Six they faced this time. If those mad dogs the Blackamoors were still around, they would probably try to depose the King for the course of action he was proposing. If things went badly, he could face a coup anyway, but that was a far lesser concern than the threat the world faced.
He only had the account of one man that gave him what little edge he thought he had. It was a good thing he kept that man close at hand for this very day.
"Lord Bartlebert, although I want our diplomacy to be primarily a civilian affair, there is someone from the Army I want on your team."
"Someone from Second Bureau, Your Majesty?" Lord Bartlebert asked.
"No," the King said. "The only man on this planet who's made contact with the aliens. He may just be this kingdom's trump card."