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When the Secretary General arrived at the hotel, I was already unpacked. She knocked on my door.
‘Did your meeting with the Prime Minister go well?’ I asked.
‘Yes, Paula, it did, but we both fear we’ve somewhat messed up our first ever meeting with an alien civilisation.’
‘It seemed to go reasonably well from where I was hearing the conversations,’ I said, hoping to reassure the Secretary General, who had burned the midnight oil setting up the full meeting of the General Assembly the previous day. Fortunately, many of the delegates had still been there after a crisis climate meeting, but it had obviously taken a great deal out of her. She looked tired and drawn.
‘Ambassador Moroforon quite obviously thought she was talking to some sort of world president when she spoke to me. I should’ve corrected that impression immediately.’
‘Well, how could you? You met her, then immediately entered the UN building. There was hardly time for you to take her to one side.’
‘We should’ve thought of that. Someone should have realised the aliens would have no idea of the command structure of the Earth. I could have said something during the flight to London.’
‘When? It only lasted a minute,’ I said and chuckled. ‘It was quite funny, actually, ma’am. The Prime Minister, the French President and you all settling into those seats for a lengthy flight and then the Ambassador wondering what we were waiting for!’
Perfect laughed, breaking the cloying worry which was obviously hanging over her, and I joined her laughter. We weren’t rolling around on the floor, but it was a most relaxing interlude.
‘Come on, Paula, let’s head to the restaurant.’
We walked towards the lift, me still giggling occasionally and the bodyguards looking at each other, trying to figure out what was funny. I saw them both check their flies.
It was, of course, a luxury hotel. One of the best in London. The restaurant was one of those old-school establishments with chandeliers, white linen tablecloths, beautifully laid out crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and waiters who looked like penguins with their clean-cut black and white outfits. The waitresses wore starched white aprons over black skirts and tops, black tights, and small white hats, perched at the back of their heads. It could only be London.
I travelled with the Secretary General everywhere these days and we’d got to know each other’s habits quite well. In fact, sometimes, I felt she was a little too familiar with me. She treated me more as an assistant than a biographer, but that was useful to me, of course, so I didn’t object. She never mentioned anything delicate or confidential with which she’d been dealing, but I always had a pretty good idea of how meetings had gone. I never pried, but she often opened up to me and many was the evening when I’d had to work into the small hours, writing notes while they were fresh in my mind. I never took recorders or notepads when we were eating or relaxing, and this encouraged her to use me as a sounding board if she was concerned about anything.
‘Ken Hood’s worried about Jack Spence,’ she said quietly, but bluntly, as we began a light dessert. We’d both drunk a glass of wine, but only the one. A particularly light and fresh Sancerre stood, more than half-full, in the cooler. I hoped she might give us another glass, but she’d waved away the wine waiter on his last approach to the table. I would never deign to pick up the bottle myself.
I didn’t answer the Secretary General. If she was going to say more, it was better it flowed naturally, and I always walked a fine line between being inquisitive for the biography and probing out of my own interest. After all, she was talking about the view of one world leader about another. This would be hot stuff to the general media.
‘He thinks Jack’s going to be the stumbling block. He was certainly most put out when the Ambassador mentioned equality and in our private security council meeting, Jack mentioned that it sounded like communism.’
‘I can see how that impression might have been gained,’ I said. ‘Equality for all is often interpreted as socialism in the US, and that is only a tiny step from communism.’
‘Yes, but I think the Ambassador meant true equality of all peoples and when they start to really study us, as a species, they’ll soon discover that the poor, unemployed man and his family in a ghetto in the USA, is wealthy beyond the dreams of some third world families. Ken can see beyond his own shores, but I’m not sure Jack can.’
‘Do you think they’ll hold it against us, the wealth distribution of today’s world?’ I asked.
‘Yes, I fear they will.’ She lapsed into silence for a while.
‘Perhaps tomorrow will be better, Paris is a lovely city. How could anyone not love Paris?’ I said.
The wine waiter began to top up Perfect’s glass, but she covered it when it was half full. I was thankful for the additional alcohol and let the waiter put in the usual volume.
‘Lovely wine,’ said Perfect, draining the glass in one swig. ‘I’m heading to my room, Paula. I’ve some planning to do. See you at breakfast.’
‘Seven?’
The Secretary General nodded and made for the elevators, trailed by the two bodyguards. My life was hardly of the same importance, I thought, and chuckled to myself. I killed my glass of wine and refilled it. It would be criminal to let such a wonderful Sancerre go begging, and I was determined that it wouldn’t.
When I returned to my room, I found the message light flashing on my phone. It had been a call from Perfect telling me that breakfast was brought forward to six. I wondered what she was planning which might have caused an earlier start.
««o»»
We arrived at Horse Guards Parade just before eight and were met by Yol Merofort. The ubiquitous clatter of camera shutters followed his progress from the airlock to the ground. The shuttle was surrounded by a large number of the press plus curious members of the public, all being held back by police and a contingent of soldiers.
The bodyguards carried our cases up to the portal and we transferred through the airlock into the plush cabin of the Ambassador’s shuttle. Yol Merofort showed the bodyguards into another lounge and returned for our meeting.
‘Good morning, Ya Okafor and Ya Wilson,’ said the Ambassador.
We echoed our good mornings to her and Ya Mistorn.
‘Ya Moroforon,’ said Perfect, ‘may Paula stay with me for this meeting to take notes?’
‘Surely, Ya Okafor. You can have whoever you wish in your meetings. You’ve no need to seek my permission. Why did you want this early meeting?’
The Secretary General took a deep breath and composed herself. Over breakfast, she’d told me what she intended to say and that she was very anxious about the response.
‘Ya Moroforon, all of our people have been misunderstanding the nature of your visit. I think you’re already aware that we don’t speak with one voice. We should’ve made our political system clearer to you.’
‘Yes, that I had misunderstood your chain of command became clear in the Palace of Westminster. I’d believed that you were the leader of the people of Earth. Yol Hood’s explanation was quite a surprise. You realise we cannot negotiate with hundreds of different leaders?’
‘Yes, I suppose I’m as close as you are likely to find to a world leader, but no, it’s not my specific function although I do tend to coordinate the world leaders from time to time. What can we do? You must’ve come across the same problem previously. What’s the best way to proceed?’ said Perfect.
‘It’s quite rare actually. Most worlds with whom we make first contact usually have a single world leader, but that might be because most civilisations are tens of thousands of years old before they achieve spaceflight. Your civilisation is remarkably young. Usually we tell the world to sort out a leader or small committee who can act as the leader, and we progress from there. Sometimes this can take years to be resolved. Usually a single leader emerges once the Federation is joined. It soon becomes clear to new worlds that they no longer need their local organisations or governments.’
‘So, we could have time to get to the same situation?’
‘Do you think it’s something which could occur quickly, or is it likely to be a longer process? I must tell you that I’ve been receiving disquieting messages from our ship that your broadcast media indicates you have a very divided world. There are even two wars taking place between four of the nations in the Middle East, which also involves all but one of your Security Council in one instance and France, Britain and the United States in the other.
‘Yes, the conflict in northern Iraq. Britain, France and the USA are trying to resolve the situation, but Russia and the Turks are trying to escalate it,’ said the Secretary General. ‘The other war is between a coalition of Saudi Arabia and some other countries, logistically supported by Britain, France and the USA. Russia’s not involved in that conflict.’
‘We could never admit a warring species to the Federation.’
‘So, how do we progress?’
‘I’m prepared to grant interstellar travelling rights to your Security Council members in order for you to see the benefits of the Federation. We’ll provide six starships for the purpose, including one for you, so that you, too, can research our systems.’
‘That’s very kind, Ya Moroforon.’
‘We’ll also need all of your countries to throw open their doors for teams from the Federation to assess what needs to be done to move you forward towards membership.’
‘If we’re going to be able to set this up, we’ll need to bring the Security Council together to discuss and agree the strategy,’ said the Secretary General.
‘Perhaps that should occur on one of our worlds.’
‘We’d need to get that agreed too, Ya Moroforon. How much travelling time is needed to reach the world you have in mind?’
‘Probably Eslobeel. It can be reached in six hours from here and is one of the founding members of the Federation. Your leaders should allow two days including travel time. Eslobeel will provide a good example of the benefits of the Federation,’ said the Ambassador.
‘Just six hours? Where is it?’ asked the Secretary General.
The Ambassador spoke to Ya Mistorn for a few seconds in their own language.
‘It is in the inner band of stars, about eight hundred light years from here. We understand that is how you measure interstellar distances,’ said the Ambassador.
‘But how do you travel faster than light?’
‘I’ve no idea, Ya Okafor. You’d need to ask one of our scientists. Could you set up for the permanent members of the Security Council and yourself to make the journey?’
‘I’ll speak to them at the first opportunity.’
‘And that we’d like to send our people out to look around the world too.’
‘Yes, Ya Moroforon, but they’ll need to check with each country they wish to visit. Neither the Security Council nor I can give such permissions.’
‘That is inconvenient, but we’ll manage. These national boundaries are rather antiquated.’
‘I must remind you, Ambassador, that none of us were expecting to discover an alien organisation in the galaxy. National borders are to control the movement of people and produce.’
‘Yes. I do understand, Ya Okafor, but that, too, is a strange practice from the Federation’s point of view.’
‘I’ll get the permission set up as quickly as possible. When are you hoping to take us to Eslobeel?’
‘As soon as possible. A few days. In the meantime, I’d like to continue with the tour. Heldy, tell Slindo to take us to Paris.’
‘A few days might be tight, but I’ll do my best,’ said the Secretary General.
The black cherub flew through the open door to the control room, was quickly back with us and the door closed. I looked at my watch. It was 8:42.
I strained every organ in my body to try to sense motion but felt none whatsoever. At 8:43 Yol Merofort emerged from the control room, the Ambassador put on her face mask and we all stood as the inner airlock door was opened. The air system cycled, and we descended to the centre of Fer à Cheval. A police guard awaited us, and Jeanne Meunier arrived a few minutes later. The smell of fumes from cars and trucks was immediately noticeable, compared with the air quality inside the Ambassador’s shuttle. I had noticed that the aroma of balsamic vinegar was stronger in her shuttle than it had been in the alien starship. I would ask her about her air requirements when the opportunity arose.
A small, luxurious coach arrived, and we were first given a ride down the Champs-Ḗlysèes, making a truly wonderful stop at a café where we sat outside for coffee and a patisserie.
Jeanne Meunier had been talking to Yol Merofort in New York, about what he, Ya Mistorn and the Ambassador could eat and drink. All three were able to taste quite a selection of the pastries, Ya Mistorn drank water, Yol Merofort was enthralled by a tall latte and the Ambassador sampled a carbonated drink. She was able to remove the mask to allow eating and drinking, although I noticed she never left it off for more than two or three minutes. I wondered if that was her cycle of breaths but couldn’t tell. I was unable to see the breathing motions of her chest.
Yol Merofort delighted in sampling madeleines, canelé, and choux. He was in his element, popping them in single bites and making satisfied noises at the taste of each. Ya Mistorn tried a macaron, then took several and flew up to the corner of the patisserie’s awning to consume them in peace. A small detachment of gendarmes kept people away from us and it really was a stunningly well organised stop. Trust the French to get it right!
Knowing how much the party had enjoyed the National Gallery in London, the President gave them an either/or choice of the Musée d’Orsay or the Louvre. They chose Musée and Yol Merofort was soon in rapture over the Impressionists.
From there we had a police escort to speed us to Versailles, where the Ambassador loved the formal gardens, stroking the leaves of shrubs and removing her mask to sample the scent of flowering plants.
The tour was finished by mid-afternoon and we returned to the shuttle. Jeanne Meunier had asked the aliens if they would like to stay at her residence, but they preferred to remain on board. Perfect and I were only too happy to take up the offer and it provided the Secretary General with the opportunity to explain the situation she’d discussed with Ken Hood the previous day.
I must say that the simple French visit was the finest of all the visits we made with the Ambassador.
The next morning, we travelled to Moscow where President Ivanov, Prime Minister Nikolai Sokolov and their wives greeted us on our arrival in Red Square.
Our first stop was Saint Basil’s Cathedral, just a hundred metres away. The Ambassador was most impressed by the painting and the icons within the church, while Yol Merofort seemed quite underwhelmed. Ya Mistorn flew up into the roof area and we saw her flitting to and fro as we were shown the most important features.
‘So, all of this is in praise of a deity?’ the Ambassador asked.
‘Yes, originally, although today it is a museum,’ said the President.
‘Do many humans still believe in deities?’
‘In Russia a great many do, probably over eighty per cent,’ said the Prime Minister.
Perfect added, ‘There are many religions in the world, Ya Moroforon, this represents a Russian Orthodox Christian church, but you will find that there are places of worship for many other religions too.’
‘Interesting,’ the Ambassador said. I got the impression she considered it all rather primitive.
We followed the visit with a tour through the Kremlin Treasury, then had a police escort to take us to Star City where the aliens were fascinated by the history of human space flight.
‘You know, Yol Ivanov,’ said the Ambassador, ‘we’re most impressed with your world’s adventures with rocket power. Particularly, we think the achievement of landing on your moon with the technology you had at the time is an incredible accomplishment.’
‘That was the Americans,’ said the Prime Minister, coldly.
‘The people from the country our starship is in? Does it matter that it was Americans, not Russians? Aren’t you all human?’
‘Yes, but there was a great rivalry. We put the first satellite into orbit, then the first man and woman in space. We jointly built the space station.’
‘Rocket technology is so dangerous. It’s amazing how few accidents you had during your explorations. Your world is very innovative.’
‘What power drives your shuttle and your starship, Ya Moroforon?’ asked the President.
‘I was telling Ya Okafor that I didn’t really know, but Yol Merofort advises me that we use quantum engines of various descriptions. I’m afraid I don’t know the specifics. As part of the Federation, you will have access to all of these technologies,’ said the Ambassador, ‘and you’ll have the loan of six fully-crewed starships to visit other worlds to learn more about the Federation.’
‘That’s very generous,’ said the President.
‘We want you to understand the workings of the Federation before you decide to apply,’ said the Ambassador.
««o»»
Our tour of Moscow completed, we returned to the Ambassador’s shuttle in Red Square. We went on to visit Beijing, with stops at the Forbidden City and Great Wall, before returning to New York.
We exited the shuttle and were back in the body of the starship. Before we disembarked, Yol Merofort guided us briefly around the starship, including the bridge which, to be honest, looked very similar to the Star Ship Enterprise! I took some photographs. I’d treasure them forever.
I noticed the balsamic aroma dropped in intensity away from the Ambassador’s shuttle. I wondered how many different atmospheres supported intelligent life.
‘Yol Merofort,’ I asked, ‘how many different atmospheres do you have to deal with in your travels?’
‘Well, this is the most common. An oxygen/nitrogen mixture, but we always have to take care. Trace gasses can be important. You or I could tolerate a tiny percentage of, say, chlorine, but some species could not. It could poison them. Come with me.’ He marched out of the control room down a couple of corridors and we stopped at one of the six-way crossroads.
‘Stand still. We’ll descend,’ he said.
The spongy forcefield beneath us suddenly relaxed and I almost lost my balance as we descended but soon recovered. After a few seconds we stopped and walked along another short corridor which terminated in a steel door.
A wave of Yol Merofort’s hand caused it to open and we entered a huge laboratory. There were dozens and dozens of benches with chemical equipment in use. To my right I could see separate laboratories behind glass where the air was clearly cloudy or tinted. They stretched on into the distance. At least thirty or forty.
‘This is our atmosphere laboratory,’ said Yol Merofort. ‘In here we can assess atmospheres and warn any species who could be harmed exactly what they’d need to do to survive. Of course, some would need pressure suits, others just airtight suits or a simple breathing mask, with or without eye protection. Everyone on board knows what to expect from the atmosphere of our destination planets. A few days ago, we were on a planet where the main gas in the air was methane. Almost everyone needed airtight suits.’
‘Must make it difficult to communicate,’ said Perfect.
‘Yes, Ya Okafor. Scientists are trying to develop a personal forcefield which would contain each person’s own atmosphere, but, regrettably, there have been some fatal failures, so suits are still essential currently.’
‘What are they working on over there?’ asked the Secretary General, pointing towards about twenty benches with different creatures working beside them.
‘They’re studying your atmosphere. I’m told there is a high level of pollution in your cities.’
‘Yes, I can imagine,’ said the Secretary General, who was exhibiting increasing signs of embarrassment as she began to appreciate the world’s failings from the visitors’ perspective.
Eventually we returned to the main airlock and descended into the fumes of New York. Ya Moroforon had asked the Secretary General to set up another meeting for her to speak to the Security Council leaders on Earth instead of on Eslobeel. The nitty-gritty was the agenda.
How exciting to be part of this new era of Earth joining the Federation. I was so pleased to be involved, even on the fringes.