Illegal Aliens Read Online Free PDF Page A

and the general heave a mighty sigh. The situation might still be precarious, but at least they were no longer sitting in the barrel of a nuclear gun.
    “THE POPULATION OF YOUR PLANET SHALL BE ALLOWED TO WATCH THEM BEING TESTED, AND IF THE SUBJECTS PASS, THEN DIRT WILL BE WELCOMED INTO THE GALACTIC LEAGUE AS A NEW, BUT EQUAL, MEMBER.”
    Across the globe, humanity broke into wild cheering and began to dance about their TV and radio sets. Spaceships! Aliens! The stars! Whee! It was like a Saturday afternoon movie!
    Meanwhile, Rajavur and company sat patiently in the air conditioned comfort of their underground bunker patiently waiting for the other shoe to drop.
    “BUT,” the blue being continued.
    Clunk, thought the FCT in unison.
    “. . . SHOULD YOUR REPRESENTATIVES FAIL THE TESTS, THEN WE WILL BE FORCED TO REDUCE YOUR PLANET TO A RADIOACTIVE CINDER. NOTHING PERSONAL, MIND YOU, BUT I HAVE MY ORDERS. THIS IS IDOW FOR THE GALACTIC LEAGUE. OUT.”
    Once again, the picture on the monitor melted and swirled, changing back to an aerial view of the enormous white ship dramatically sitting on top of Central Park, the glass and steel buildings of the New York skyline forming a postcard background. Framing the picture was a twinkling amber bar that visibly shrank with each passing second.
    “Chronometrics, Yuki?” Rajavur asked, taking an educated guess as to the nature of the border.
    “Fifty two minutes and counting,” Dr. Wu answered, her lithe fingers working a wrist calculator. “If that color bar is indeed a timepiece and not merely a decoration.”
    His brow furrowed, Bronson removed the cigar from his mouth and inspected its soggy end. “What frequency was that broadcast on?” the soldier asked.
    “All of them,” Dr. Malavade replied. “And as far as I can tell, it was received clearly by everyone on the planet.”
    With unhappy thoughts, the general returned his cigar to its normal position. Well, that certainly seemed to kill the hoax idea. No nation on Earth could do that. Merely to generate the crude electricity alone would require a hundred, a thousand, Niagara Falls power stations. Or controlled nuclear fusion. Neither of which Humanity had yet.
    “It's a wonder we didn't pick it up on our teeth,” General Bronson stated aloud, thinking about an article he had once read in a newspaper describing a truly bizarre college prank.
    “Many people did,” Sir John said, industriously scribbling away on his note pad. “Sixty two feet of ferroconcrete is probably the only thing that saved us from suffering a similar fate.”
    In reply, Wayne grunted. The walls of their bunker were a lot thicker then that, but Courtney had never seemed very interested in concrete, in spite of those fascinating lectures on Advanced Defensive Architecture that the general had dragged him to so often. Odd fellow. Becoming rich must have driven him mad. Good poker player, though. That's what mattered.
    “No,” Rajavur stated firmly into his UN hotline. “I’m sorry, Mr. Secretary General . . . yes, I understand that you have an interest in this matter. But . . . I’m very busy now, sir. Look, I will talk to you later, Emile. Goodbye.” Firmly he cradled the gold UN receiver between his red, Russian, and blue, American, hotline phones. Damn. The last thing he needed was some frightened politico bothering him in the middle of a crisis. Agitated, Sigerson ran nervous fingers through his wiry crop of gray hair, which was a sign of his heritage and not age, as the diplomat was barely 50 years old.
    “Mohad, have you had any success in contacting the aliens?” Rajavur asked. Dr. Malavade replied no. Communications were nil. The aliens must be deliberately ignoring him.
    The diplomat swiveled his chair to the right. “What is your opinion, Jonathan?”
    “On what, professor?” Sir John asked looking up from a computer printout on emotional factor responses that he was perusing.
    “On the chance that this Idow and his