More fog banks flowed into the room. There seemed to be three separate swarms, though you couldn’t always tell. Mosely smirked faintly at Antonini, whose eyebrows were raised in question marks.
There was always a question of how to relate to the Bugs, especially when they assumed a semi-human form. Mosely and Antonini had gone over all these points of protocol earlier that morning. Was it a single entity? Was it three separate swarms? Nobody really knew. Mosely had argued with the protocol chief vigorously, saying, “They… or it… or whatever…are really all part of a single swarm, aren’t they? I’d like to call them by name…anybody know what their name or names are?”
Komar just shook her head, fiddled with her glasses. “Nigel, giving them names is like giving names to your hands and feet. It’s all part of the same thing.”
But now, it was plain to see that there were three of them. The swarms had configured themselves to more or less resemble human beings, not a bad likeness really, but translucent, ever-shifting, streaked with light flashes as they slammed atoms to maintain structure—Mosely had heard that maintaining a human form was difficult and energy-intensive for them—the swarms didn’t like to do it, but he didn’t really care. For centuries, real diplomats had always put great stock in decorum and appearance. Why should today be any different?
As the swarms filled the dining salon and stabilized themselves about the table, Mosely decided he would name them himself, just for the sake of keeping them apart in his mind. For no particular reason, he decided that the three Bug swarms would hereafter be known as “Winston,” “Harry” and “Joe”. It was a sort of homage to the Big Three—Churchill, Truman and Stalin—at World War II’s Potsdam conference.
His idea stuck and the swarms seemed to have no objection.
The first thought that came to Mosely’s mind was how the conference was beginning under a cloud…literally. He squashed that thought as probably annoying, if mildly amusing, and glared at “Harry,” now hovering like a bad dream across the table from him.
“I want to state our position quite clearly at the outset…so that our esteemed…er, colleagues here, understand where we are in these matters—“
“Harry” had a face which showed little emotion, frozen like a caricature of an image. Only the pattern of light coruscations seemed to change, perhaps indicating some sort of response.
Mosely went on, trying not to glare, not sure who or what to focus his attention on. He found himself studying “Harry’s” face for some sign of reaction, but there was none.
“There is supposed to be a truce between Humans and Swarms. However, despite the long standing of this truce, some swarms are still maneuvering outside the agreed-upon sanctuaries. Now, you’ve swept into the outer solar system and your, er, colleagues are eating up planets, destroying everything in their path. We view this as bad faith, we view this, quite honestly, as violations of the Containment Edicts. I must warn you that continued failure to follow previous agreements will jeopardize anything we do here in Nairobi.” Mosely leaned forward, to emphasize the point. “Harry” flickered and flashed, but his ‘face’ never changed expression. “Frankly, we must have assurances that you will abide by your agreements. Your colleagues must stop their advance upon Earth at once. Otherwise, these negotiations are futile.”
It was “Harry’s” turn to speak. Details of conference protocol had already been communicated to Config Zero, along with diplomatic language and dictionaries as well as centuries of historical records of diplomatic proceedings. That was the UNSAC’s idea. Angelika Komar had theorized that studying how humans had negotiated treaties and agreements among themselves through the centuries would give the Bugs some way of relating to the Humans at the conference.
A voice filled the dining salon. Mosely couldn’t tell which swarm was speaking. Maybe all three. The voice reverberated and echoed, with a faint lisp and some kind of indistinct accent.
Mosely looked quizzically at Komar and Antonini. UNSAC shrugged, then pecked out a few words on her wristpad. Mosely saw the text on his eyepiece viewer. Maybe he’s talking about Operation Earthshield?
It was a possibility. Mosely knew a little about the UNIFORCE operation …the basics of the mission. Set up a big net to stop any approaching swarms from deep space…what were they called? The Old Ones, popped up in his viewer. Okay, they’re called the Old Ones.
“I’m not aware of any problems you may be having with your swarm…er, elements. That’s your business. Let me get this straight…are you making an accusation here? Are you accusing us of interfering with your operations? Might I remind you that, in conflicts such as these dreadful containment wars, we do have the inherent right to defend ourselves. If the big swarm out there doesn’t stop its advance, we’ll be forced to resort to extreme measures.”
The meeting was briefly adjourned for ‘further discussions.’ Mosely, Komar and Antonini found a small alcove off the grand foyer and huddled together.
UNSAC took a very loud, theatrical deep breath. “It was an op called Earthshield It says here you’re on the cleared list…need to know only…Level Purple. We were trying to block any more swarms from approaching Earth.” UNSAC gave them the barest details about the mission and the catastrophic ending. “This is Level Purple stuff, you understand. Well above your pay grade. I’ll have to let the SG know you’re in on it.”
Mosely gave a shrug. “I have some knowledge already and I think we’ll pass muster, ma’am. Ma’am, is there any way we can have these defensive missions put on hold, even just for a few days? Our efforts must be having some effects…to judge from what ‘Harry’ indicated. I think they’re worried…that should be of some intelligence value to you.”
UNSAC smiled faintly. “Let me see if I have this correctly: you want me to abort a mission to defend this world from alien swarm operations, while at the same time, planets and satellites are disappearing and people all around me are fighting and dying in combat with these same damn Bugs every day. Is that it?”
Mosely shook his head. “Ma’am, I’m not asking you to stop these missions…just stop interfering with swarm signals for a day or so…just long enough for us to get these talks going. There’s just a chance that, if we’re successful, you won’t need to fight the Bugs anymore. We’re authorized to try and work out a truce, a ceasefire, and a pullback to some defensible positions. But we won’t be able to work with these fellows if they don’t see we’re willing to do our part. We have to show them we mean business and that they can trust us. That’s Diplomacy 101, ma’am.”
UNSAC scowled. “Thanks for the lesson…I’m sure you know what I think about diplomacy. Diplomats are why we’re in the mess we’re in now…all this Assimilationist mumbo-jumbo.” The Commissioner sat back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll tell you what, Mosely. I’ll call your bluff. I’m going to give you exactly what you want and I’m informing the SG and the Security Council what I’ve done. So when the whole freakin’ pile of crap blows up in your face, the world will know who’s responsible.”
Mosely tried to maintain an impassive expression. Poker face, some would have called it. You didn’t show your hand, until you had a winning hand. “Thank you, ma’am. Am I to understand, then, that these interference operations will cease, at least temporarily?”
UNSAC nodded. “I’ll inform the Secretary-General right away. You’ve got one day. Then, we go back to what we know best…kicking the bejeezus out of these damn Bugs. Is that understood?”
Mosely made an obscene gesture at UNSAC, out of her sight, so that only Gabrielle Antonini could see it. “Perfectly, ma’am. I’ll keep you posted on the outcome.”
“Very well…I’m going back to the hotel—“ And Angelika Komar stalked out of Langata House and climbed into her limousine.
“Officious little prick,” the Englishman decided. “Come along, Gabrielle…let’s get back to our guests.?
??
Mosely and Antonini returned to the Langata House’s dining salon and found “Harry” and his swarm colleagues hovering like summer fireflies over a barbecue pit.
“Gentlemen—“he wasn’t sure that was the best term to use, but this was a diplomatic meeting, “—I’ve been given assurances that the interference you speak of will be stopped…at least for the time being. Perhaps we could now resume our discussions. And have a bite to eat?”
“Harry” brightened as if the thought somehow appealed to him. Mosely noticed how the edges of the swarm were not as sharp as the interior…there was a distinct fuzziness to the boundary elements, as if somehow maintaining the structure of a para-human simulation were taxing and tiring. Every so often, some kind of visible wavefront washed through the swarm and re-arranged everything…most disconcerting. At least, the thing had a head you could talk to, more or less.
How polite of you, Mosely thought. Wine and cheese with a cloud of Bugs hovering all around you. He briefly entertained boyhood memories of picnicking along the Trent River swatting mosquitoes. Best to get down to business. Maybe now, the negotiations, if they could be called that, could begin in earnest.
Mosely was aware of how incongruous this all must seem to a disinterested outsider. Here they were: a crusty old Brit and a rather severe Italian woman. Italy had been one of the key battlegrounds between Humans and enemy swarms in the Containment Wars years ago. Antonini had a personal stake in the talks too; Mosely knew she had already lost a brother to the swarms in action around Naples. Mosely was just dour and skeptical of everything. That happened when you’d been a diplomat for forty years.
With encouragement from the humans, “Harry” got right to the point, outlining the swarms’ position. Moseley noticed that the other swarms, “Winston” and “Joe”, seemed to mirror “Harry” in their light patterns, flashing in synchronized step with each other. Well, they are supposed to be all pieces of the same thing, he told himself.
Moseley had already seen the details of the swarms’ demands coming in on his wristpad. He was momentarily flustered, aghast at what was being demanded. “Impossible! Concentration camps…that’s what this is. Completely out of the question!”
But “Harry” wasn’t through. The swarm brightened as more words tumbled out, formed into sound wave patterns by small formations of bots that “Harry” had pinched off to form an acoustic lens, a courtesy to the Humans.
“You can’t—“ Antonini was appalled at the direction the talks had now taken. It was an ultimatum. She was livid with anger.
“Baloney…this isn’t what we discussed,” Mosely interrupted. He seethed, trying to control his rising temper. A good diplomat always keeps calm, a good diplomat always maintains an even keel—
Mosely was angry. “I still want a conference. Man and Bugs, talking together. Humans and swarms can learn to live together. We can both assimilate. We can negotiate terms but this…this is pure dictatorship!”
“Harry” suddenly brightened and there was a swirling commotion among the swarm bots, momentarily smearing out “Harry’s” features before re-assembling the full config.
Moseley and Antonini looked at each other and quietly flashed thoughts back and forth on their eyepieces, even as they filed reports with their assistants in another part of the hotel. Chatter exploded across the local diplomatic net, as the swarms’ demands became known. Somebody quoted from Revelations.
Moseley watched the coruscation of lights flickering on and off inside the swarms. It was like watching a thunderstorm in miniature, veins of lightning streaking back and forth. All that was missing was a peal of thunder.
He wondered: Is there anything left for us to negotiate here?
That’s when ‘Harry’, ‘Winston’ and “Joe’ seemed to coalesce into a single roiling cloud of bots, like two thunderclouds mixing and combining. Whatever was happening, the process took about three minutes.
When the coalescing was over, Mosely and Antonini found themselves staring at a familiar face.
The three swarms had configured themselves into Symborg himself.
Once the re-configging was done, Symborg hung before them like a malevolent mist. He was surprisingly calm, remarkably stable in appearance.
Polite, but firm, Mosely would later record in his notes.
Antonini spoke first. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I thought you were quarantined…Kipwezia and all that.”
Symborg’s form continued to thicken and fill out, becoming after a few more minutes, a near-perfect likeness of the east African face that had captivated millions for years. It was an oval face, light brown with a faint smear of a moustache…a face that had lured millions into assimilator booths all over the world.
Now it was the face of the enemy.
Symborg offered a faint smile. “Multi-configuration entities can be in many places…simultaneously. You know this. We are the future. Tomorrow belongs to us.”
Not if I can help it, Mosely thought sourly. Now there was no more pretense with ‘Harry,’ ‘Joe’ and ‘Winston.’ Now there was only Symborg.
“I’m authorized to offer a truce, Symborg. No more assaults. No more operations. No more interference. You send your swarm people, your Bugs—“ Mosely didn’t bother to hide his contempt—“back to their sanctuaries. Inside the borders we agreed on thirty years ago. And the mother swarm out there—“ he gestured in the general direction of the ceiling and the sky—“ stops its advance. Halts where it is right now. I’m sure we can come to terms on this. We could even set up sanctuaries in the outer solar system. How does Saturn sound to you? Never much saw the value in all those rings and satellites. Trans-Saturnian space and beyond…a sanctuary for your big cloud of Bugs out there…and we promise to leave you alone.” Mosely knew perfectly well that UNSAC and the Secretary-General would have his head for making such an offer. But it was a starting point…diplomats needed something to start with.
Now Symborg’s smile had faded. There was a hard edge to his face. Mosely knew the angel could morph his face into any look the situation demanded.
“The Prime Key will be completed as originally programmed. There is nothing single-config entities can do about that…Normals, as you like to call yourself, as if your configuration was the standard for all of us.”
Mosely sniffed. “Saturn doesn’t appeal to you? How about Jupiter? Really, I can’t go much further than that…I’ll have to consult with my superiors to do more.”
Symborg refused all entreaties. “The Central Entity…what you’ve called the mother swarm…will encompass all bodies in this system, absorb all matter as feedstock. You Normals can help…millions already have…by assimilating with us. This has been going on for decades now. Your own scientists know this…I quote: ‘The basic organizing influence in the universe is life. Life involves utilizing a flow of energy to draw order from chaos and build internal complexity with an accumulation of information. Living beings thus are anti-entropic, or negentropic, entities. The principle of negentropism is, in a manner of speaking, the "natural law" applicable to all living (matter-energy) beings located anywhere in the universe, regardless of their size, shape, biochemistry, sentience, or culture.’ This imperative we call the Prime Key.”
It was clear to Nigel Mosely and Gabrielle Antonini that the negotiations would go no further. After some closing pleasantries and a general statement of principles from both sides, the meeting came to an end.
Symborg slowly dissipated into nothing and was gone in minutes, devolved to its constituent atoms. A faint glimmer in the air, perhaps only dust particles, drifted away from the long mahogany table toward the gilded doors of the dining hall. Soon, even that was gone.
Mosely and Antonini excused themselves and retired to the front veranda of Langata House to await their limo. There, they encountered Dana Polansky and her Solnet crew. A small dronecam whirred overhead like an enormous moth dr
awn to light.
Polansky rushed up to the two diplomats, who winced at her appearance.
“Please, Sir Nigel, Ms. Antonini…if I could just ask a few questions--?”
Mosely made an effort to be more civil than he really felt. It was hard being diplomatic with a cloud of bugs. Especially when the Bugs could not be dissuaded from their mission, by anything.
Polansky asked what hope the diplomats could offer from their talks. “There’s a rumor from other sources that Symborg himself was in these talks…that he made an appearance.”
Mosely responded the way diplomats always did when confronted with an unpleasant reality…give them a little truth to mask a greater failure.
“That is true. Mr. Symborg did make a…shall we say, unexpected appearance. He was present during most of the talks today.”
“Did the negotiating team make any progress today in coming to agreement with the other side…stopping the swarms’ advance…holding off any final assault on Earth?”
Mosely was abrupt with this little waif of a reporter. “None.” His face darkened. To hell with being diplomatic. “Tell your viewers, and anybody who is watching, to prepare for the worst. War is coming, a war for survival, a war of extinction. Now you really must excuse us…we have to get back to our hotel and make a report.”
Mosely deftly shoved Antonini into the rear seat of their ride and the limo pulled smartly out of the circular drive of Langata House, speeding off down Kenyatta Avenue.
Dana Polansky turned to the dronecam and motioned for Lilly to bring it in for a close-up…my face centered, she signaled. The veranda and the big doors in the background… She softly cleared her throat, shifting into her ‘momentous’ voice, as her daughter Jana liked to call it.
“The diplomatic team from the UN has just left Langata House. It appears that little was accomplished during today’s session. The Bugs are still coming. The mother swarm is still advancing. This reporter can’t help but conclude that there are fewer and fewer peaceful options left as this crisis goes on. Already, sources inside UNIFORCE Paris have indicated that plans are underway to organize another expeditionary force, perhaps to engage the swarms in a final penultimate confrontation. These unnamed but highly placed sources have also indicated a disturbing new development has been occurring over the last few weeks…a sort of forward base may be under construction near the Sun—sources say on the surface of Mercury. The enemy forces may be attempting to flank our forces from nearer the Sun. If this true, it represents the gravest challenge UNIFORCE has yet faced in this crisis. Solnet will continue to ask hard questions and dig out the facts in our attempt to bring you the very latest information about what one diplomat has termed ‘an existential threat…a possible war of extinction.