THE GALAXYMBION ODYSSEY

Jor Kintara felt extremely uncomfortable in his human disguise. For one thing he had to squash himself into a framework a whole metre shorter than his true form. Add to that changing his skin hue (he knew how moronically many humans could react if you looked different, and gemstone blue was no exception), the alteration of limb contours and the final straw – making his face look as uninteresting as the fleshy lumps these creatures had attached to their titchy shoulders. Then, as an additional insult to his own form, it was necessary to alter his vocal chords to sound less metallic and resonant. Thankfully as a male he could get away without hair, but his poor wife had to artificially generate the stuff to appear like a human female. Fortunately, though, Eriana Kalin was a little nearer to human size so did not have to scrunch herself up as severely as Jor.

They could both hear a commotion coming from the Old Family Dining Room of The White House and wondered what unlucky soul the President was venting his notorious ill temper upon. Venturing forward tentatively Jor and his wife caught their first sight of this human President and his latest hapless victim, an elderly waiter with a bad leg. Quickly running a mind scan, Jor understood the waiter had inadvertently caused an accident due to temporary loss of muscle control from a war-time calf injury that still troubled him. He also scanned the President’s mind, what there was of it, and determined that this waiter’s condition was actually known to him. Jor communicated this knowledge to his wife.

“I am extremely sorry, Sir, for upsetting your drink. I will fetch you another immediately and clean the floor myself.”

“It’s not just the floor you dinkleberry; pathetic little butt-head. This suit cost over four thousand dollars and we have guests to entertain in twenty minutes. I ought to have you strung up and your toes sliced off for that. Get outta my sight!”

Whilst his poor servant left with a notable limp, looking very dejected, President Damian Iago Vamp seemed unruffled in actual fact, by this catastrophe. He was obviously enjoying a form of the same lunacy to which all useless primitives are prone; threshing his arms around wildly as he revelled in his subordinate’s discomfort immensely. A couple of his aides tried to pacify him to no avail, and a third bringing him a replacement drink didn’t help either. After several painful moments he finally quietened down and went to change into a dry suit, but the direction he chose clearly took him the same way the ‘offending’ waiter had gone. Being quicker than his victim, President D. I. Vamp caught up with his prey quite soon, providing him with another opportunity to vent his spleen.

“I am really, really so very sorry, Mr President. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re darn right it won’t happen again, you ignorant little transparency. Get out of my way, goofball, and make yourself scarce.”

Jor Kintara looked sideways at his wife and thought to her ‘how in a billion galaxies did such creatures ever manage to get into space, when their leaders throw tantrums over trifles?’

‘With eyes shut, ears closed and reasoning switched off’ she thought back to him. ‘Just like space debris.’ The two Ekrians shared a smile. ‘Look over there, Jor. Samuel Georgeson. He is of African roots and head of security, whatever that is. And Lana Walking-Eagle to the right. She has Santee Dakota Sioux, Cherokee and paleface lineage and functions as a junior press secretary on attachment from NASA, currently enrolled on their astronaut training programme. Both of them have suffered from their President’s temper on a number of occasions, partly due to their ethnicity. In Lana’s case the President also has a low opinion of women. A brief scan shows these two individuals to have the most developed, receptive minds and well-balanced personalities in this building. They are the most rational and moral people present, and significantly the most intelligent, polite and calm. They could be helpful in keeping the rest of the humans serene when The Albas-ri Triumvirate arrive.’

‘Indeed, my sweetness. We should get ready; even with all our preparations these creatures are notoriously unpredictable and their belligerence and arrogance are notoriously legendary. Take up a position near Lana if you can. You might even try mind-talking. I will serve over there near Samuel. Good luck, Eriana.’

‘With these pernicious troglodytes we will need more than luck, oh husband of mine. We will need some miracle; remember what they did to Je-Sus-Tra and how working amongst these creatures for two millennia severely impacted on Balasaniwa and his team? I hear that Colochul is a pale shadow of himself and needs considerable healing time; he may never fully recover.’

Jor was amused by his wife’s thoughts on humanity and sent back to her ‘I know exactly what you mean, Eriana. They crucified Je-Sus-Tra for daring to try and help them. Admittedly that was two millennia ago, but they have not really grown in wisdom since then, as their continued butchery and bickering demonstrate. When dealing with these humans, my lovely crucible of wisdom, we always seem to be in the hands of the unseen and the unknown. Get ready, Eriana, The Triumvirate are nigh.’

Initially there was a flickering in the electricity supply, coupled with a reduction in external light through windows. Briefly all electrics spontaneously switched off, prompting the humans to mutter something about power cuts. One even joked that the President had not paid his bills. Someone had a torch and was just checking that everyone was okay when the lighting came back on. “Generator’s up and running, folks,” Samuel Georgeson said. “Probably storm Catrina giving us its worst.”

“You are probably right, Samuel,” Jor Kintara replied, ironically.

At the room’s far end space split with blinding light forcing all humans to shield their eyes; only Eriana and Jor could look into this brightness. As quickly as this temporal fissure had split space so it left, leaving in its wake three cloaked and hooded figures standing silently, almost motionless. They understood Jor and Eriana immediately from their immunity to temporal lightning. No words were necessary, though, as only the humans had to recover themselves from this event. One of the waitresses had been holding a large soup bowl which now lay broken on the floor, its contents making an expanding puddle. A junior security guard was already levelling a pistol at Amryk-Em-Kovy, but the Triumvir easily mind crushed this weapon, startling its owner so much that he dropped what was left of it.

“We appear to be in a room full of servants and clerks. Where is your commander-in-chief?”

Silence emerged from the shocked humans. Only Samuel Georgeson stepped forward, without being tempted to point a gun at these obvious intruders who nonetheless appeared harmless despite their weird entrance. “He had to change his clothes. Who are you, what do you want here and where do you come from?” he asked gently.

Lana Walking-Eagle also stepped forward. “Yes, that was some entrance. We need to know the reason for your visit. Are you hostile or friendly?”

“Friendly,” Amryk-Em-Kovy stated. “We will wait for your commander-in-chief here. You need not fear us.”

“Where are you from and who are you?” Lana continued.

“I am Amryk-Em-Kovy, from Talara,” one of the three said, pulling his cowl down and indicating for his two companions to do likewise. “This is Anavar of Albascade and this is Kendras Arion of Belvandara. Together we form The Triumvirate of Albascade. Our mission here is peaceful.”

The room full of humans, now confronted with three unhooded and clearly alien beings, became even more afraid – one of them even urinated himself.

Anavar noticed and looked upset. “You do not need to fear us or soak your clothes. We mean you no harm.”

At which point Vamp walked in with his usual bluster, but soon stopped dead in his tracks. “Damn computers are down; absolutely no internet and phones are offline also. Good Lord, who the hell are you people? What the hell are you? And what do you think you’re doing in my White House? You, head of security guards, Georgeson, why haven’t you shot these bastards?”

“They have made no threatening moves or violent gestures,” Samuel Georgeson offered. President Vamp, however, would have none of this and lurched towards Samuel, grabbing the pistol from his holster. “Weak-minded fools” he shouted at his staff, then took aim and fired at point blank range, directly at Amryk-Em-Kovy’s forehead. As this room full of people watched something strange happened around the bullet; time decelerated. Amryk stepped out of its way, then unfroze time around the projectile. A hole appeared in the wall behind him. Unwilling to repeat this scene he mind-crushed this pistol, turning it to harmless powder. President Vamp, surprised but unperturbed, was furious.

“How dare you storm into The White House and attack us, you alien freaks. Samuel, call the guards, the army, the Pentagon, S.W.A.T teams and the rest of your useless security staff. Well, don’t just stand there looking like a dinkleberry; do something.”

Samuel took out his walkie-talkie but looked uncomfortable with his orders. “Mr President, they haven’t hurt anyone, and you haven’t let them answer any questions.”

“They can answer questions in detention, at the laboratory or even Guantanamo Bay for all I care. I want this alien filth out of my White House now!”

Anavar looked sternly at Damian Iago Vamp.

“Stop staring at me, you fucking alien freaky bastard retard. You have no reason, right or authority to storm into my domain and threaten me, and I . . . . . . .” The President grabbed his own throat and seemed to have lost the power of speech.

“Prevention of racial genocide and suicidal stupidity are reasons enough for our presence.” Although maintaining his control over President Vamp’s vocal chords, Anavar turned to face Samuel, this time with a kind gentleness in his eyes. “There is no need to call anyone, Mr Georgeson. You can hand me your communication device. It won’t work for you, anyway.”

Samuel tentatively thumbed it on and heard only static, then held the walkie-talkie out, an action that made President Vamp’s eyes bulge. A presidential aide tried to grab the device but Anavar took command of their limb muscles and mind-pushed them gently backwards. Samuel dropped the walkie-talkie into Anavar’s outstretched hand. The Triumvir did something to kill the static, held it to his mouth and spoke into it, imitating the President’s voice. “All units, false alarm. Return to your stations. Code D.I.V one zero four P J seven.”

“Roger, copy that,” came a tinny voice from the device. Anavar mind-crushed it. “Now,” he said, “we invite you all to take a seat. There is not much time and many tasks to perform.”

Kendras Arion stepped forward. “In a short while we will visit other leaders on your planet. Our message is identical to each of you. By pursuing an existence as a professionally dangerous, unthinking species you, and others like you throughout this galaxy, have created a terrible situation. Thinking against each other, against other species, against yourselves – usually accompanied by violence – you have split dimensional accords and set time against itself. You have broken order and instilled chaos, encouraging a deadly temporal virus within this galaxy and weakening the entire universe.

“We are here to end this folly and educate you to a respectable level of civilisation. You may cooperate or you may not, but failure to cooperate will result in us forcing you to mature into a civilised species. It is easier for you and us if you comply in an orderly fashion. However, at the hour you call midnight this process will begin, with or without your cooperation.”

Another human walked into the room and, seeing the tableau with three apparent extra-terrestrials of mixed species, started laughing. “Hey, you’re having a Halloween party dress rehearsal; neat. Hey, you guys in the cool costumes, wanna get in the party mood?” This new arrival switched on some portable audio device it was carrying, blasting a horrible noise out, to which it gyrated in strange movements that startled Anavar and his fellow Triumvirs.

Kendras Arion mind crushed this beings’ noise blaster, which it did not react well to. “Hey, you no-good son-of-a-bitch! What did you do and why did you do it? Eh, answer me, you mindless carnival freak-show. You want a fight?”

Kendras looked at Eriana Kalin. “What is this creature?”

“It calls itself Vice-President Archibald Wiggins, and apparently it is deputy leader of this portion of Ledara; a typically human continental realm which they call America.”

“Like its President, it is an arrogant, over-bearing micro-character.”

“How dare you, whoever you are. Go back to your party and scare the neighbours, if you don’t like danc . . . .”

Wiggins was also holding his throat now, as Anavar silenced the Vice-President’s vocal chords. “What sort of species appoints a leader to be President of vice?” Anavar commented with a certain flare of humour. Servants and security personnel in the room chuckled inwardly. Samuel Georgeson then made them laugh even more. “We humans, some of us at least, have wanted to do what you are doing for a very long time. You aren’t hurting them I hope?”

“No, merely silencing their mindless gibberish. Time is short, Samuel Georgeson. My colleagues and I did not travel here to waste time saying hello to Earth’s chaotic society. Nor did we journey hundreds of light years to gyrate like lunatics to some horrendous noise. If you correctly understood us you will know our purpose; if you have not understood us I will state our purpose here again. The discordant thought processes and actions of your species have helped weaken the cosmos, particularly its temporal dimension, thus endangering all life. We are here to correct this by educating you to a level of basic civilisation and competency as a species. You, Samuel Georgeson, can assist us as you are one of the most honourable, intelligent specimens present. And you, Lana Walking-Eagle, also are a unique and sensible human; you could be helpful in a place called Europe.”

“Europe? Why would you need my assistance in Europe?”

“You speak German, French, Italian and Russian. My Triumvir colleagues are overdue at the Kremlin and the European parliament. Whilst you await our Event Squadrons, please follow the directions of your Protectorate.”

That was an agreed cue for the disguised Ekrians to rid themselves of their uncomfortable camouflage, a double transformation that caused the assembled humans even more surprise. A rift in the room began opening where it had before, and Anavar smiled at everyone. “Our Ekrian friends, Jor Kintara and Eriana Kalin. Be polite to them, they are really very nice people and are your planet’s appointed representatives. That means they will look after you.” And with that the three Triumvirs stepped through the fracture which then collapsed.

“Holy shit,” President Vamp spluttered, having recovered his voice. “Do I have to do everything myself in this place? Couldn’t one of you have shot those alien bastards?”

The towering figure of Jor Kintara leaned over President Vamp menacingly, but without meaning any real harm. “Be careful with your manners. My wife and I can silence you also, but we would have to do so the old-fashioned way, with our hands.” Jor then closed his left hand around a thick table leg and crushed it into powder. The table drooped somewhat with this support missing.

President Vamp swallowed slightly but decided to continue his protests, albeit with less vehemence. “That table was worth $35000 dollars. Have you people no idea of value? I suppose you have insurance and will be paying for damage to our property?”

“What is insurance, exactly? This is the second time I have heard you talk of money. We have been asked to observe traditional cordiality to you, but this is difficult when you fixate so greedily upon fictitious materialistic values. I believe you were a diamond merchant before your election to presidential office. Tell me, primitive diamond merchant creature; why do you like diamonds and gold so much?”

“Well, I don’t suppose you fucking alien bastards have a clue about financial markets, the value of gold stocks, where to find rich diamond veins or how to invest to accumulate. Bloody alien freaks. I got where I am today by speculating and accumulating like a professional.”

“Professional asshole,” one of the maids called out.

“Diamonds, gold and money,” Eriana Kalin interceded. “You people are strange; you take pieces of paper and metal, which you prize as valuable, and hand them to someone else. They give you something you actually need or want and sometimes different pieces of paper and metal also. You create this fake value only to trade it away for that which you needed or wanted in reality. Why do you persist in hoarding these artificial media you call ‘valuables’?”

“Because they are just that; valuable and glorious. Particularly gold, platinum and diamonds. You should understand that being a female, you dumb alien tart.”

Eriana looked at her husband. “I know we are supposed to ensure there are no casualties, Jor, but could you just look away, while I hit this moronic misogynist?”

“I am afraid I cannot let you strike this pathetically rude and insolent lump of verminous drivel, my lovely Eriana. Even though it deserves it. Because I am going to hit it for you if it speaks insolently about you once more.”

President Vamp flinched a little as the towering blue crystalline form of Jor Kintara turned his attention back to the human leader. “I am sure the starving people of your world do not value such nonsense as gold and diamonds as you do. They would perceive them as far less valuable than food or clean water, both currencies of far greater importance and interest to your physical reality. You are a fictitious billionaire, stupidly coveting poly-crystalline carbon in only one form, and a yellow metal just as inedible. You talk always of corporations, money, gems and profit like some ignorant primitive thinking only of its inflated base desires and monstrous wishes. Never do you enunciate what you should do or what is desperately needed by others to stay alive. You care nothing for another’s necessity, seeing it as subordinate to your perverse pursuit of the flamboyant and worthless. You value shiny metal and sparkling stone over healthy organic materials, water and air upon which you depend for life. You are crass, moronic and disgustingly juvenile. Say one more cretinous, ungentlemanly or rude statement to my wife or anyone else here and I will crush your stock of diamonds and gold into useless powder, burn your ridiculous pieces of paper and rip your worthless throat out.”

Lana Walking-Eagle indicated with her head for Eriana to step with her to one side. “Is your associate really going to do all that to him?” she whispered.

“No, he is merely keen to prevent any further stupid outbursts from your leader.”

“Pity,” the Sioux woman observed. “But we’ll all settle for the second option.”

“Well, what do we do now, Eriana of The Protectorate?” Samuel Georgeson asked politely.

“You need do very little actually. In a short while eight Arcturus class starships will descend into your atmosphere and deploy several Event Squadrons to equidistant locations around Earth,” the beautiful alien announced. “We will need some minor assistance with our mission from intelligent humans such as yourself, Samuel. If I understand your genetics correctly, and the history of your U.S.A, your ancestors suffered greatly from institutionalized racism. Bigotry has not entirely disappeared from your world, unfortunately; it has merely learned to hide itself better and assume a mantle of deception. Your President is a prime example.”

“We would like your help with improvements in the Americas,” Jor Kintara added. “You are a calm and sensible person, a rarity amongst humans.”

“And you, Lana Walking-Eagle, I will ask for your cooperation in our European endeavours. Your species needs to evolve psychologically away from its primitive baggage.”

“How can I help?” the Native American woman enquired.

“Tell them nothing, do nothing to help them, or you will both be court-martialed! That goes for anyone else in this room,” President Vamp blurted out, looking stupid and insane simultaneously. A raised hand from Jor Kintara was enough to shut him up.

“Your species capitalises on catastrophe and profits from purgatory,” Eriana continued, looking directly at Lana. “Your ancestors also suffered unspeakably in this land’s history. As you know better than most people in this room, humans as a species earn from evil and deal with the devil, to put it figuratively. Your Native American tribes had to make too many sacrifices and compromises because of this. Humans are singularly egotistical and selfish; always with those in power there is only room for them and their views. Too often you try to remain like that. Your society as it is now is a primitively tangled mess built on fallacy, inequality, conflict, ignorance, cruelty, deception, immorality and corruption. As a species you believe yourselves to be impressive. Impressive? A ridiculous self-delusion, since Homo Soppy Ones has a long journey ahead just to attain basic civilisation. Impressive is even further away. That is why we are here. We have short cuts for you.”

“It is Homo Sapiens, you stupid alien tart freaky bitch. That means 'wise man',” President Vamp spat out. A slightly raised arm by Jor Kintara silenced him quickly enough.

“I agree to help you. And your name for our species is more accurate than ours; there is very little wisdom in us.”

“I will help too,” Samuel added to Lana’s affirmation.

“Traitors, quislings, bloody unpatriotic collaborators!” Vamp spat out with fury.

“I have had enough of this oaf,” Jor Kintara stated as he touched a finger to Vamp’s forehead. The human dropped to the floor, unconscious.

“Hey, you blue, gangly alien bastard,” the Vice-President bellowed, striding forward and landing a punch on Kintara’s glistening crystalline chest. “Ahhhh,” he screamed, nursing his crippled hand. “What the fuck are you made of, concrete?”

“Silicon polymer,” Jor replied, touching the Vice-President’s forehead. He slumped also. “Well, now we don’t have to listen to the mindless drivel of either of those pathetic imbeciles.” The Whitehouse staff present laughed at this. “Anyone else wish to protest about our presence, our appearance or our mission to evolve your species to civilisation?”

All Whitehouse staff present shook their heads.

“Then please make yourselves comfortable. An Event Squadron will be here soon, and a transport for you, Lana, if this is a convenient time for you to travel.”

“I just need to call my folks,” Lana provided. She took out her mobile and tried to ring her parents but there was no signal. She looked upset but remained silent.

“Not that I want any sort of battle,” Samuel stated to Jor Kintara, “but I am surprised you have not already come under attack from our military.”

“All weaponry on your planet has been rendered harmless and your military forces worldwide have no communications. We are quite efficient at preventing attacks, Mr Georgeson, and our purpose here is of extreme importance. Beings called Vels came here with us and are tactically stationed near military bases and other violent clusters of humanity; Vels are able to disrupt violent thought patterns, making it difficult for the warlike and mindless to execute rash decisions. We will liberate you from your own sicknesses and insanities, lifting all burdens of prejudice and injustice from your planet. We are here to save you from yourselves, not to hurt or be hurt.”

“You referred to our ‘insanities’. Do you really know how diverse and degenerate our behaviour can be, Jor Kintara?”

“Oh yes, Samuel, we are extremely aware of your tainted history, your reluctance to move on from it or learn from it, and your potential for something better. The tragedy of your species is not that you can’t abandon evil and folly, but that you won’t. As a general rule, the more you have the worse you become. Far too many of you willingly retain prejudice towards chaos, even though healthy minds with wisdom and intelligence reject it. A Prismatic culture is necessary to avoid inconsistencies; prismatic intelligence interacts with the sculpted and unsculpted cosmos appropriately. We are delivering to your world universal enlightenment; Earth will have no more prejudice or savagery after midnight.”

“Prismatic? As in a triangular piece of glass?”

Jor Kintara looked quizzically at Samuel Georgeson and smiled in his unique Ekrian way. “Prismatic as in several sides, capable of refracting light and showing its true nature.”

“Do you mind my asking what exactly you think you can do at midnight that will change us? I am afraid that there are far too many people on this planet who when they see you will react violently. You may try to educate them but a devil charmed is a devil armed. You will smile at them, offer to make life here better and more meaningful, and they will spit in your eye or club you to death.”

“Superficially you are accurate, Samuel Georgeson. This devil needs to be charmed and disarmed, without any fighting or injury or death. Earth is to become a Utopia House.”

“What is a Utopia House, exactly? It sounds medieval and European, like some German fable or Scandinavian legend.”

“Answer me a question, Samuel Georgeson. What happens when it snows heavily?”

“Well, we clear the roads and paths as best we can with snowploughs and shovels.”

“How effective is that?” Eriana asked.

“It usually helps.”

“But the snow is still there, still slippery, and is merely pushed to one side. So, the cause of this weather has not been removed properly. We have ground vehicles called combi-trucks. They would remove the snow completely. And tell me, what do you do with rubbish, refuse?”

“We collect it and take it to land fill sites but some gets recycled or burnt .”

“Yet it is a huge logistical problem. In our society there is no rubbish. That is why we come to help your species. Soon the chaotic nonsense you inaccurately call civilisation will be replaced. With real civilisation. In Europe during your middle ages you organised crusades; little more than excuses for more wars and to obtain riches from the east. Your knights searched for the Holy Grail, for a Utopia that could never exist due to warlike and bloodthirsty human nature. You refuse collectively to remove the rubbish from your society, even though you understand its presence, its detrimental nature, and many of you strive valiantly against this chaos. Utopia House allows something different. It is a last stand against your own weakness, failure, folly and error. The Utopia within your own house will be unlocked.”

“Sounds great, but I still don’t see how you can accomplish this,” Lana Walking-Eagle commented. “It has taken us more than ten thousand years to get where we are, and still we are as mindless infants. It is almost impossible to enlighten those of us who determine upon selfish, short-sighted paths.”

“We understand this. A research team of four from Crenzala was stationed on Earth since your time frame 80 BC. They came primarily to observe your continuing interaction with Je-Sus-Tra of Elsevara III but remained till recently to continue gathering insights into your psychology and development,” Eriana explained. “Their observations across your world over such a timespan have proven extremely beneficial in knowing how to predict your unpredictable behaviour. They have left now and we – myself and Jor – are your new Protectorate.”

“Je-Sus-Tra? As in Jesus?”

“Indeed. And Ra, Jupiter, Zeus; all derivations from his true name. He appeared to several of your ancient societies but his visit to your world was not authorised; he observed your folly and potential across the eras of the ancient Egyptian and Classical Greek civilisations. To both cultures he introduced himself, attempting to provide them with insights and wisdom that would enable humanity to divest itself of its barbarity. The Egyptians called him Ra and worshipped him as a God yet ignored his teachings about cosmic wisdom and pacifism. Dismayed by this blindness he left that time and returned almost a millennium later to what promised a better result; ancient Greece. There he attempted the same enlightenments but again was seen as a God, called Zeus, and saw his teachings and wisdom twisted or even ignored by those in power. Eventually he gave up on the ancient Greeks, and a brief appearance to ancient Romans, who called him Jupiter, resulted in more disappointment. He decided to return in another thousand years, hoping that this second millennium would give your species sufficient time to become capable of informed reaction to logical and civilised guidance.

“Naturally that optimism was unfounded and by that time his own society on Elsevara III were aware of his unauthorised attempts to help humanity achieve civilisation; they felt that he was in extreme danger and requested assistance from Crenzala, a world nearer to yours and with a more objective view of Earth than Je-Sus-Tra. It was agreed that Crenzala would send a Protectorate of four to Earth to observe Je-Sus-Tra from a distance and try to protect him, but without overt intervention. At his third appearance Je-Sus-Tra became the prophet in Islam, God’s son and avatar in Christianity and the Messiah in Judaism. His name was variously corrupted as Jesus, Joshua, Yeshua, Jehovah and Yaweh. He was arrested and handed over to the Romans on a death sentence. I am sure you know very well that humanity’s savagery and folly – far from having diminished in the two millennia since his appearance to the ancient Egyptians – instead has multiplied, diversified and camouflaged itself.

“The protectorate from Crenzala had few options available; Balasaniwa, their leader, posing as Simon of Cyrene, and his senior xeno-psychologist Seerka, posing as Veronica, attempted to divert this outrage without causing another incident that could enable humanity to contaminate good teachings for bad purposes. Regrettably they were unable to prevent Je-Sus-Tra’s barbaric murder, though they did arrange for an Elsevaran starship to secretly collect Je-Sus-Tra’s body; that in itself promoted his religious significance but without actually causing any improvement in your species collectively. The rest, as they say, is history.”

“So, Jesus was a saucerian after all,” Lana said in quiet amazement.

“Wow,” Samuel added. “Well, I don’t know about anybody else in this room but I stand ready to help you people if you can deliver us from our ignorance and the billions of tons of wayward shit we’ve buried ourselves in; just don’t let me down, okay? We need really strong help, divine intervention if you like. Our species and our society are drowning in so much of their own crap and need to be delivered from it; if it can only happen with assistance from superior extra-terrestrials I’m all for it.”

“Samuel, Lana, everyone in this room, please understand that our presence here is to help, to cure, to make existence better for all life on Earth.” Jor Kintara said this in such a way that everyone present, except for the waking but unthinking President Vamp and Vice-President Wiggins, understood and appeared relieved.

“Utter horse-shit,” the President bellowed. “If you were not holding us hostage I’d have you bastards nuked, you alien freaky bastards.”

“Yeah,” added Wiggins. “We’ll splatter the walls with your alien acid blood you blue freak-show monsters. Then we’ll scrape you and your alien whore off the floor and throw you in the garbage where you belong, you inhuman bastards.”

“Your belligerence and profanity, together with your abject lack of logic, self-control, coherence or intelligence, have irritated me once too often,” Jor Kintara commented, pointing two of his long fingers simultaneously at the presidential buffoons. They slumped unconscious onto the carpet again.

“They will just sleep silently for several hours,” Eriana Kalin reassured everyone. “Why does your Vice-President think we have acid blood?” she then asked Samuel.

“He watched too many science fiction films, Eriana. Many of them depict aliens as hideous monsters that are warlike and aggressive, hell-bent on destruction and domination. One particular franchise has creatures that spit acid and whose blood is acidic.”

“I have noticed when studying your species that you often ascribe unpleasant characteristics to that which is different, even if those characteristics are absent. In the case where you do not have any direct knowledge of alien physiology such assumptions are mere sensationalism. How can your presidential representatives maintain such immaturity and how can you elect to such office those who are so immature?”

Lana smiled warmly. “Most of our leaders are the same; we have very little choice. Intelligent, responsible people behave in a fair and honourable manner unlike these leaders. Thus, the leaders achieve office through machinations, ruthlessness, skulduggery and dishonest tactics which decent folk are not prepared to indulge in.”

Eriana blinked in a gesture that suggested immediate comprehension. “They are frauds.”

“Indeed they are,” Lana commented. “You know, I am beginning to like you people very much. You talk eloquently and from a position of great intelligence, understanding, compassion and honesty. It is so refreshing.”

“Thank you, Lana Walking-Eagle. How can such bright stars as you and Samuel be born in such a dull universe as homo sapiens?”

“Homo Soppy Ones,” the Native American lady corrected. Both women, one of Earth and one not, laughed. Jor, Samuel and the other White House staff laughed also.