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Double Dragon Publishing
www.double-dragon-ebooks.com
Copyright ©2005 by Darrell Bain
Double Dragon Publishing 2005
NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
Three’s a Crowd
Copyright © 2005 Darrell Bain
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon Publishing Inc., Markham, Ontario Canada.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Being conquered by bird-like little aliens no bigger than sparrows was bad enough, General Bradley thought, but why do they have to be so goddamned arrogant about it? He sat at his Chairman of the Joint Chiefs place at the conference table and seethed as the diminutive being hopped around on perfectly bird-like feet to each member in turn, using tiny hand-like appendages affixed to its wingtips to pass out the surrender documents. The pages were about as big as a playing card, but very light, and the print somehow magnified as the human eye looked at it.
Jonathan Gridley, president of the United States, glowered rather than seethed as he accepted his copy, but then the glower turned into a grimace as he read the terms. His fat, jowly face turned a bright red.
“This is impossible!” He exploded. “It’s genocide! We can’t exterminate three fourths of our population. You can’t be serious!”
“See terms,” the alien chirped. “You exterminate or we exterminate. Need room.” It passed on to Secretary of State Shipley, who was looking helplessly aghast at the president. He accepted his copy and began reading.
General Bradley fidgeted as each leader in turn was presented a copy of the document, trying mightily to think of any military assets that might yet stave off total subjugation, yet knowing there were none. If only we could have held on a few weeks longer, he thought, our gravity weapons would have been ready—and nothing could stand against them. But there was no time left. His space forces had been totally defeated, near wiped out by overwhelmingly superior weaponry. The land battles had been almost as bad, although he did feel some glum satisfaction that the United States forces had performed better than any other country. The rest of the world had already surrendered.
Senator James Sanders, the Majority Leader, threw his document onto the table. “I won’t be a party to this,” he declared, rising to his full lanky height. “We’ll fight you to the last man! We’ll not kill our own people, and we’ll not be slaves!” He turned to go.
“Wait, Jim,” President Gridley pleaded. “Please! You’re talking about every man, woman and child in America!”
Sanders returned to his seat, his body slumping in anguished indecision as the little bird being paused in his rounds to answer.
“You kill, we kill. No matter. Many humans must die. Need room for us.”
They mean it, General Bradley thought. They’re utterly ruthless. But there must be something we can do. He accepted his own copy of the surrender document and began to read, trying to ignore the hopeless spattering of conversation around the table. It was in English, stark, unembellished and painfully, pointedly simple. Immediate elimination of 75% of the population, he picked out as he scanned the pages, while the alien passed on to the Speaker Of The House on his left. Total subjugation, he read. Breeding program. Labor for Empire. There were other terrible phrases but he had already seen enough. The terms were signed By Order Of The TriAvian.
The general raised his eyes to meet the gaze of the other members of the president’s cabinet. He saw only hopelessness there, or course. Had there been any chance at all, they would not now be reading the terms of their surrender and slavery—and near extinction as a species. And it had been so close. Just a few more weeks and the gravity weapons would have been ready. They would have swept the damn birds away like so much dust.
“Question, then agree,” the alien demanded. It was now perched in the center of the table, turning in slow circles and fluttering its wings.
“Suppose—suppose we don’t agree. What then?” The president asked.
“Elimination. All elimination.”
General Bradley looked at his document again. I won’t, he thought. Better to die. And what the hell does ‘By Order Of The TriAvian’ mean, I wonder? He decided to ask. It couldn’t hurt, and might put off the proceedings a few more minutes. It would also delay his own death, for he had already decided to go down fighting with his own marines rather than submit to slavery and genocide.
“What is this TriAvian?”
Surprisingly, the alien bird answered. “Three. Brother/sister/mate. No referent.”
“Why aren’t the others here?” General Bradley asked.
“No matter. We one/three agree. Must be so. Now you agree.”
President Gridley started to speak but the general motioned him to silence. A hope stirred in his breast. “Why must it be so? What if one of you were dead. What then.”
“Not possible. Three always one. No Three, no TriAvian. Me/brothers/sisters/mates always agree. No agree, no TriAvian. Chaos. Long, long time chaos. Not possible.”
“You represent the other two, then?”
“We/they. No Matter. One/three, same. Now you agree. Now.”
The general had always been a man of action, and somewhat of a gambler besides. “Very well,” he said to the bird-like alien while sending a silent prayer to the skies. “Let’s shake hands on the deal.”
“Shake? Hands?” The little birdy being cocked its head in question.
“To agree on the surrender.”
“To agree. Good.” The alien hopped forward and extended the little hand growing from its wingtip.
The general’s reaching hand touched the tiny appendage and plowed on to engulf the body and wings of the fragile thing. He squeezed, crunching bones and feathers. Blood spurted from between his fingers, spraying the conference table with splashes of red color.
“Oh my God!” the president yelled, a terrified look on his face. “Now they’ll kill us all!”
“Maybe not,” General Bradley said. “You heard him. ‘No TriAvian, long, long time chaos.’ Besides, what else would you suggest? Slaughter our own people? Genocide? Slavery?”
“But—”
The general gave him a grim smile. “It’s a gamble, I know, but maybe a good one. And what alternative did we have? Were any of you really going to agree to their terms? I wasn’t. Death would be better. And now maybe I can get my new weapons into production before they get another TriAvian to run their show.”
The president shook his head, partly with admiration but mostly in pure wonderment that any one man could take so horrendous a chance. He looked at the mangled little body on the table. “Well, it’s too late to change now, and I surely hope it works out, but I still don’t see how you could do it.”
“Actually, it was pretty easy once I used a little common sense.” The general smiled mysteriously.
“Common sense! You call murdering a representative that’s here to dictate surrender terms sensible?”
“Of course I do. Haven’t you ever heard that old expression?”
“What old expression?”
The general took out a handkerchief and began cleaning blood from his fingers. “It’s simple,” he said. “A bird in hand is always worth two in the bush.” He strode from the room to begin getting his gravity weapons into production before another TriAvian could be formed.