Warp

By Robert Taylor

In 1720, alien refugees called Mlosh made their home on Earth, warping human culture around them. Some humans preferred the old ways - and will use the Mlosh's own technology to strike back at them. This is the story of an anti-Mlosh terrorist cell and the law enforcement agents charged with hunting them.

The first novel based off of voter's choices at Today In Alternate History, a popular alternate history blog. For fans of Harry Turtledove, Fringe and such films as Cowboys and Aliens.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Taylor
• Release date: Mar 9, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458106735

Robert Taylor

Robert Taylor was formerly Director of the Centre for Chinese Studies and Reader in Modern Chinese Studies at the University of Sheffield. He is the author of a number of studies and academic articles relating to Chinese business management and China’s foreign policy, including Greater China and Japan and the edited volume, International Business in China: Understanding the Global Economic Crisis. He also contributed a chapter on China to the volume, edited by H.Hasegawa and C.Noronha, Asian Business and Management: Theory, Practice and Perspectives.

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Warp

by

Robert A. Taylor

©Copyright 2004 by Robert A. Taylor, All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Foreword

First of all, thanks for buying Warp, the first novel produced by Today In Alternate History, my web site devoted to fans of what might have been.

The idea for this novel originally came while I was getting ready to participate in National Novel Writing Month (http://www.nanowrimo.org), and I solicited assistance from some of my readers at Today In Alternate History to let me know what they would like to see in it.

To those readers, I'd like to give an even bigger thanks – Ruthanna, Dylan, Douglas, Jerry, Evan, Kristin, Groovygal and The Lone Goldfish, thanks for being my guinea pigs and giving me helpful advice. Not to mention spotting my editing errors.

The cover art on Warp is by my lovely wife, Cheryl Taylor, without whom you would be seeing stick figures on a white background. Thanks, honey.

Thank you for your readership, and I hope you enjoy Warp.

Robbie Taylor

Something was disturbing the sheep tonight.

Gavin thought that the sheep should be huddled together under the trees, trying to stay out of the rain, like he was. He didn't want to leave the relative dryness of his lean-to to see what their problem was, but it was his job. He crawled into the rain, and felt the stinging drops pelt him all over, chilling him instantly.

A lightning bolt seemed to strike overhead, but the odd thing about it was that it didn't go away. Gavin looked up, and saw a beam of light stabbing the hillside where his sheep were milling about, bleating their fear at the sky.

Crawling out of the dark sky, that light was joined by a host of others, each lighting up the hills around Gavin. One bright light careened across the valley like a man who'd had a few too many at the tavern. Like a drunk man, it just seemed to be looking for a place to rest. After rolling over the grass for what seemed like hours, it settled on one spot, and most of the other lights followed suit.

Then, the thing that directed the lights began to descend.

Gavin didn't know what he was looking at. It reminded him of a beehive, but it was as large as a hill and was now roaring like the ocean. Its pointed end had been directed at the ground, and now it was flipping over, aiming a flat end at the earth below it. The young shepherd could make out windows all over the side of the beehive facing him, and could swear that he saw faces in those windows.

He didn't think he was going mad, but he didn't think that such a thing could be in this world; it didn't look like angels were flying this thing down from Heaven, and why would Satan want to? The sheep were doing the sensible thing and fleeing from the monstrosity, but Gavin was stricken with curiosity. He had to know what this was all about.

He walked cautiously toward the beehive, trying to look as upright and Christian as he could, to give his best impression to the faces that he saw in the windows. He slicked back his hair and brushed off his clothes, and advanced on the great beehive.

When it touched the earth, Gavin felt a tremble, as if caught in a wave. For a moment, his fear battled with his curiosity, but only for a moment. He kept walking forward, and now he could see small globes breaking off of the beehives and floating crazily around, like soap bubbles caught in the wind. Some of the globes touched down on the ground, and now he could see something come out of one of them -

He stopped. For a long time, he couldn't force himself to move forward. Insane fear gripped him like a terrier shaking a rat. The things walking out of those globes... those things were not men, but they strode around like men, and they made gestures like men, and he could even faintly hear them speaking like men, although no language that he understood. They were tall and willowy things, pale as lilies in the morning, with heads like great melons and arms like the tail of an ox, but supple and strong - he saw them carrying heavy loads from their globes with those arms, so they had to be strong.

Well, my lad, he told himself, it's either forward or back. And you can't turn back now. He pushed himself forward, and moments later one of them caught sight of him and walked - glided, almost - over to him.

It took all of the boy's self-control not to pee himself.

M'canto li fey w'w'sham ka min sobey, it said to him.

I have no idea what you just said, sir, but I'm hopin' that it was something like hello. He waved his arm. Hello.

Another one of the strange creatures glided over, and several were watching Gavin now. A few had climbed into their globes and those globes were shooting back up into the air, back up to the beehive. The creature that had first spoken to him was regarding Gavin with a pair of large black eyes; it had a mouth, but didn't seem to have any teeth, for which Gavin was quite grateful, nor did it have a nose. It had what Gavin at first thought was thin, silky hair, but then he saw it move and didn't know what it was.

It waved one of its arms at him. M'canto li gh'shir'lo Mlosh panta kam il siro.

And the same to you, sir. They seemed so perplexed by him that Gavin couldn't help but be a little amused at the situation. You wouldn't be angels, now, would you, sir? Because, if ya are, I might be wanting to do a little less prayin' in church. He laughed a little bit, which seemed to interest them immensely. Through gestures, and a fairly frightening attempt at laughter themselves, they communicated to him their desire to hear him do it again. He obliged, laughing heartily. They studied him keenly, and one of them even reached out an arm - the tip of which had half a dozen little worm-like fingers - and poked him in the stomach.

Hey, now, watch the hands, Gavin told it, gently pushing the arm away. He caught a whiff of its scent as it moved back from him; it smelled almost like fresh blood. That made him a little queasy; he hoped it wasn't because that was what they fed on. Sirs, I hate to break up our little meetin' here, but I need to go look to my flock. Are ya goin' to be stayin' here in the valley?

Kri'l'yama sogo npirey canni irasem Mlosh eire pota.

Right.

His fear was gone, for the most part, but he was very curious about what they were and what they were doing here. He wished they could speak some sense, instead of this low-pitched nonsense talk. While he was thinking about what to do next, one of those flying globes landed almost on top of them, and another one of these strange beasts came gliding out of it towards Gavin.

We come in peace, it said to him.

Gavin's eyes widened a little in surprise. That's good to know, sir. How come you speak English when your friends here don't?

It tilted its head to the side slightly and didn't speak for several seconds. We require land for colony. We can compensate.

Gavin got the idea that this one was just saying something it had learned by rote. But, there was no harm in testing that. How much can you pay?

We bear many trade goods with us, as well as knowledge that can aid your people.

But, how much can you pay?

We seek to live alongside you as neighbors.

Gavin began to feel that he might be negotiating something that he really had no business negotiating. I tell you what, why don't I get the lord, and see if he can come talk to you fellows? I don't really think I'm -

We have the proposal outlined in visual format for you to consider. It took a small box out of a pocket in its loose-fitting clothes, and handed it to Gavin. We shall remain here while you deliberate.

And, with that, the creature got back into its globe and flew off.

A man of few words, eh? Gavin asked one of the remaining creatures. It tilted its head at him, but didn't answer. He looked down at the box. It was about the size of a bible, had a dull mirror on one side, and a small button on one of the edges. He pressed it, and was startled to see one of the creatures spring out of the mirror at him.

Gavin dropped the box and fell flat on his backside.

A strange sound, like wind whistling through grass, erupted around him, and Gavin saw all of the creatures on the ground pointing at him. The sound was coming from them; their small mouths shaped into perfect O's. The two who had spoken to him first, while still laughing, reached down to help him up.

Their touch wasn't as bad as he had thought it might be; their skin felt smooth and silky, almost like a wet cat, but not wet. They were strong enough to pull him up, though he could see that they strained a little.

...tainly be of benefit to both of our people. The creature that had jumped out of the box was standing on its side, feet planted on the box's mirror. It was speaking as if nothing had happened. While we are decidedly different physically, we hope that our philosophies will match your own well enough that we can become...

Gavin reached down and touched the button, and the creature disappeared. Now, ain't that a kick in the head. He picked the box back up and turned to the creatures. All right, I'm goin' to take this to my lord, and we'll see what he has to say about all this magic and so forth. Hope I don't get meself burned at the stake for my troubles. He started walking away, waving at the creatures that were still standing there laughing at him. Some of them waved their arms back at him; then they went back to unloading strange equipment from their magical flying globes.

My lad, this is definitely the strangest day you're ever going to have. He looked down at mirror on the box. But, I bet m'lord has a few stranger.

Chapter 1

Another horrible London evening.

The rain beat down upon Carpenter’s head as he walked down the sidewalk. For all the Mlosh talk of weather control, they still couldn’t give London a nice summer day. They probably love it, he muttered. They had never talked about their home world, but Carpenter often thought of it as a hazy hell of fog and storms.

Several aircars were parking on the roof of the buildings around him; some sort of event was going on in the neighborhood. The further he walked, though, the fewer aircars he saw. He was leaving a ward full of Mlosh for one that was more traditionally human. Although his friend Fitz-Warren had only human neighbors on his street, he was still considering moving due to the proximity of the Mlosh a scant 3 miles away.

That was why Carpenter was coming over tonight; Fitz-Warren wanted to move into his flat in Chelsea Downs, get away from all the damn squiddies, as he put it. The Downs had a very strict policy of humans-only, something which was harder and harder to enforce these days. The Mlosh had just as much money as anyone, and damn King George had ennobled some of them, so they couldn’t be counted out on the basis of peerage. Soon, it was going to be impossible to find a community in the whole of Britain that was free of them.

The rain started coming down harder, and Carpenter wished he’d brought an umbrella. By the time he walked up to Fitz-Warren’s apartment building, he was soaked to the bone. His feet left little puddles in the carpet behind him as he walked up to Fitz-Warren’s door and knocked. Water splashed from him as he did so.

Good lord, Brent, did you swim here? Fitz-Warren stood well back from Carpenter as he entered the room and took off his slicker. Fitz-Warren took the slicker from him and hung it on a coat rack.

Heaven empties its bladder on us again, Fitz, Carpenter said, walking over to the kitchen for a towel. He doffed his shoes in there, and then took off his socks, too. A quick toweling off of his feet kept him from making any more puddles as he walked back into Fitz-Warren’s living room.

Fitz-Warren handed him a brandy. This’ll give you a little comfort. He was already sipping on one of his own, in a crystal snifter. They sat for several minutes in silence, enjoying Fitz-Warren’s overstuffed chairs and warm fireplace. There were few modern conveniences; Fitz-Warren disliked Mlosh technology almost as much as he disliked the Mlosh themselves.

After finishing off his brandy, Carpenter said, So, when would you like to move in? I don’t think I’ll have room for all of your things, -

Well, Brent, I’m afraid I lured you here under false pretenses. Fitz-Warren set his snifter down on the ornate end table next to him and leaned forward towards Carpenter. I actually wanted to have a little chat with you about something entirely different. Living in Chelsea Downs, I know you’re my sort of man; not under the thumb of the squiddies, not comfortable with the hold that they have now on Britain. Fitz-Warren stood and began pacing, all nervous energy and passion. I know the story we’re taught in school – the Mlosh are friendly, the Mlosh are peaceful, the Mlosh are Jesus bleeding Christ. His blue eyes stabbed into Carpenter’s. But, just look at what they’ve done to our country; when they landed, we had colonies across the globe. Now, we can barely control Scotland and Wales. This Congress of Nations thing that the Ml’Astrans are talking up – if that’s not a plan to take over the world, I don’t know what is.

Carpenter was a little flabbergasted; he knew Fitz-Warren’s politics, even agreed with them to an extent, but hadn’t planned on getting harangued about it this evening. Look, Fitz, I know you’re very big on political action and everything, but it’s just not my cup of tea.

Then, why do you live in Chelsea Downs?

Carpenter squirmed in his chair. Don’t get me wrong; I’m no squid-lover. I just don’t feel like it’s anything to get that excited about. Sure, they have plans; doesn’t everybody? I just don’t feel like we should get all worked up about the Mlosh taking over the world. To me, and to most people, I’m sure, it just sounds like the ramblings of someone who’s cracked.

Fitz-Warren smiled mischievously. Cracked, eh? He strode over to the window and pulled back the curtain. See all the squiddie aircars gathering down there?

Carpenter shrugged. Sure, I supposed there was some event going on tonight.

Oh, there’s an event, all right. Fitz-Warren went to a small chest and opened it, pulling out a vid-screen.

I thought you didn’t truck with Mlosh tech.

I’ll make exceptions for the right reasons. He set the screen on his fireplace mantle and made a couple of adjustments. After a tap or two through a menu on the command screen, it brought up an image of a banquet hall filled with several hundred Mlosh. There we go.

A Mlosh speaker was addressing the hall, in Mlosh. Whatever he was saying, they were approving; the noise of Mlosh applause, that rubbing thing they did with their fingers, interrupted him every few words.

Fitz-Warren brought up his command screen again and tapped up a couple more options. When the image came back, there was a translation running across the bottom. There we go.

The humans are unsuspecting of the true dangers before them, the Mlosh was saying, according to the translation. Therefore, we must guide them. Many will not be willing to follow our lead in this endeavor; but they must follow, willing or not. This statement was interrupted with the rustling of applause.

That chap’s not… The Mlosh was familiar. He had the dark skin of an older Mlosh, as well as eyes that had turned milky-white. Carpenter had seen this one before, but couldn’t quite place him.

Minister L’Ke’Tumin, of the Mlosh Affairs Ministry. A member of our elected government.

L’Ke’Tumin was speaking again. We have friends across all the nations of this planet, and among the planets and moons. They will stand by us if we need them. They will reinforce us in this great battle, as we will need to reinforce them. None of us need struggle alone. As a united force, we will affect such change upon this planet as has not been seen since we landed here in 1720. There was much applause at this.

This was making Carpenter uncomfortable. He disliked the Mlosh, but didn’t think they were dangerous; this speech was starting to make doubt creep into his mind. What is he talking about?

Taking us over. He pointed at a Mlosh woman on the dais with the Minister. That’s Lady Arpen’kl, from the House of Lords. That’s Ambassador Nor’Ilomar from Ml’Astra, he said, pointing at a small, dark-skinned Mlosh. Minister Rt’Oka from the North American Confederation, Ka’Pl’Posa of Ireland, Ambassador Regetz from Karanga. His finger stabbed at the screen again and again, naming important Mlosh politicians and business figures. They’re the new leaders of the world, Brent, unless we decide to do something about it.

Carpenter’s head was swimming. This was all too much to believe. How… how are you getting this?

I have a friend who works for the security firm in that building; he’s providing this feed to all concerned humans, along with the translation.

Carpenter thought he smelled something rotten. Selling it to you.

Fitz-Warren shrugged. For a small fee. Nothing wrong with that.

You don’t think he’d provide you a phony translation simply because he thought you’d pay?

Fitz-Warren bristled at the suggestion. This man is a patriot and a true human; he would cut off his right arm before taking advantage of a fellow Englishman. And I bitterly resent what you’re implying.

Carpenter backed down. My apologies. It’s just very unbelievable.

The truth can be like that. He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled out a couple of thin books. These opened my eyes when I read them last year. Take a look through them now.

Carpenter reluctantly took the books from him and began reading. It didn’t take long to finish the first one – it was little more than a pamphlet, and was written to keep the reader moving along quickly. The second one was a little meatier, and much more convincing, as it had a couple of vid files embedded in the paper. Mlosh, speaking in their own words, were saying that their goal was to take over the world.

Astonishing, isn’t it? Fitz-Warren had refilled his snifter and was halfway through its contents. They come here pretending to be friends, but only so they can get our planet without damaging it. And they use us as labor to build their cities and machines.

Why didn’t they just take us over from the beginning? Why wait so long? Carpenter didn’t want it to be true; he didn’t like the Mlosh, but he didn’t want to believe that they were ruthless conquerors.

They’re a patient people. They took almost 5 years to travel here in those colony ships; they know how to wait for what they want. Fitz-Warren gestured at the vid-screen, where the banquet was still going on. They land here, use us as plentiful labor for a century and a half, get us to build the world up to just what they want, and then bang. We’re superfluous to their new world order. Fitz-Warren gulped down the last of his brandy and wiped his beard with the back of his hand. After all we’ve been taught about them, I know it’s hard to believe. They stop wars, they prevent earthquakes, they impose democracy, they share medicine, contraceptives and labor-saving devices, but it’s all so that they can have a perfect world ready for them when they finally decide it’s time to cast us aside.

Lyle, I... Carpenter didn’t know what to say. He was a little drunk, which made all of this more believable, but harder to speak about. I mean… if they want to do it, how could we stop them? All the technology, they came up with it. What chance would we stand against them?

Brent, we have one thing they haven’t got. Fitz-Warren smiled broadly. Numbers. 3 billion of us scattered across the solar system and what? Half a billion of them. If the sleeping giant of humanity wakes up, we can treat the squiddies like gnats.

He turned the image off on his vid-screen and brought up the dictation program. You and I, my friend, are going to become humanity’s alarm clock.

Chapter 2

Green hills and sheep; God’s gift to Ireland. Those, and the Mlosh.

The great beehive colony ship still sat on Colin Ferguson’s land, where his grandfather Gavin had first met the aliens and brought their vid-screen recording to his lord. King George had ennobled Granddad a week later, and made him lord of the land for miles around the