"Saving Planet Earth": A (benevolent?) alien arrival story

[MarieDavisRPs]

"Saving Planet Earth"

A (benevolent?) alien arrival story

CLOSED​

United Nations Building
New York City
6 January 2031, 0935 Eastern Standard Time

The members of the General Assembly had just concluded the electronic attendance-taking procedure, letting the Secretary General and others know who was or wasn't in attendance; they'd gathered for a General Session that had been months in the planning, with an agenda that had been worked and reworked dozens of times to address the issues of any and every Ambassador who wished to speak his or her mind during the 5 day session.

She wasn't on the agenda, but she was about to replace it in its entirety. She appeared without notice or warning just as the Secretary General was about to open the session, a 4-meter-tall hologram floating a few meters above the floor and directly in front of the SG at the front of the General Assembly Room. The reaction throughout the hall varied from stunned amazement to horrific fright; some Ambassadors and Staff actually fled the GAR.

"Greetings to the Representatives of the Peoples of Planet Earth," she began, a polite smile on her face as she turned her head to seemingly make eye contact with Humans sitting around and below her in every direction. "My name in my language would be difficult for Humans to speak, so I have chosen the name Anya for my interactions with your species."

Despite the fact that the United Nations operated on only six official languages -- English, French, Russian, Spanish, Chinese, and Arabic -- each of the 200 Ambassadors and far more than 200 Aides sitting near their Ambassadors or in the balcony above were hearing Anya in their native tongues. All around the world, people interested in the goings-on of the UN -- diplomats, businesspeople, even classrooms of children -- who were watching the live broadcast of the General Assembly heard the alien's voice in their native tongues as well.

"I believe that the proper way to begin this conversation is to say ... I come in peace," Anya continued, her smile widening at her attempt at humor. Her expression becoming more serious, she got right to the reason for appearing here like this: "For more than 100 of your years, you -- Human Beings -- have been transmitting radio signals powerful enough to travel through space toward distant star systems. Some of these signals were intentionally beamed into space. Some were intended for consumption here on your own planet and leaked into the void of space, traveling far greater distances than intended or even believed possible."

Suddenly, a 10-meter-diameter holographic image of Earth appeared over the heads of the Ambassadors. Anya said with a matter-of-fact tone, "Earth."

After a moment, the holograph of Earth seemed to shrink; in reality, it was zooming out, and other planetary objects began joining the image: the Moon and the Sun; Mercury, Venus, and Mars, all three of which were currently on the opposite side of the Sun from Earth; the asteroid belt, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, and Neptune; Pluto was noticeably left out, which would in the days to come only add fuel to the argument of whether or not it was a planet.

A sphere that began at Earth grew until it reached beyond the Sol System; Anya explained that it represented how far into space Earth-based radio transmissions had reached over the last 100 years. The image continued to zoom out until the Sol System was little more than a dot of light. Other dots representing the nearest star systems began to appear, one after another being swallowed up by the radio transmission sphere.

Anya continued, "Earth's radio transmissions have, of course, been transmitted through the void in every direction. Over the more than a century that your radio transmissions have been reaching out into space, they have already reached nearly one hundred different star systems."

A bright line suddenly shot out from the dot representing the Sol System, connecting with one of the star system dots. Anya explained, "One of those star systems that received your earliest radio transmissions ... is the system from which I and my people originate. We call it Yalla."

The holographic image began rapidly zooming in now, showing the 14 planets, two asteroid belts, and star that made up the Yalla System. "We detected your radio transmissions 24 Earth years ago. And immediately, we began our efforts to protect your planet, to prevent you from becoming the next victims of the Galaxy's most brutal species, the Preyna."

The hologram again zoomed out and panned to a portion of space with a multitude of Star System dots surrounded by a three dimensional, irregularly shaped polygon; it was huge, covering thousands of light years of space. Anya explained, "This is the Empire of the Preyna. It currently consists of more than 300 planets and moons from which the Preyna exploit valuable resources.

"Six of these planets once had an indigenous, intelligent species upon them," Anya told them. "They had achieved the technological capability to send radio transmissions into space ... much like Earth ... and within a short period, they were attacked, conquered, and subjugated by the Preyna ... and, in 2 cases ... exterminated."

The image began zooming out again, conspicuously leaving a dot to represent the Anya's home system, the Predator's empire, and the Earth System; the line that had indicated the direction of radio signals toward Anya's planet shifted toward the Preyna Empire but suddenly just stopped at a new, different sort of dot about a third of the distance from the Empire to Earth.

"My people have a technology that can intercept and disburse artificially created radio transmissions," Anya explained. "We deployed this technology here--" She pointed toward the dot, indicating that she could see the hologram from wherever she was. "--to prevent the Preyna from detecting you.

"Unfortunately, new technologies, particularly space technologies -- both the Preyna's and yours -- are soon going to make it impossible for my People to hide you any longer," Anya said, her tone very solemn. The hologram of the galaxy vanished as Anya continued, "Something must be done if Planet Earth, the Human species, and all other life on this planet is to be saved."

She paused, drawing an anxious breath like many Humans did when they were about to say something that was not going to be taken well by others. She said, "Earth must begin its devolution toward a far less technological status to protect itself. This means, amongst other things, the end to your ambitions to explore space ... the end to all transmissions capable of escaping your ionosphere, including radio, microwave, laser, and more."

Anya paused again before saying, "These changes will be difficult for a planet of almost 8 billion people to enact, which brings up an even harder truth: your planet must begin reducing the size of its Human population. Without the technologies that you must abandon to prevent being detected, Earth will not be able to sustain such a large number of Human Beings. My People have estimated that the Human Population of Earth must be reduced by half within a century if you are to avoid detection by the Preyna ... and, in the end, save your species from extermination."

Suddenly, Anya's image vanished, and a moment later the hundreds of phones, tablets, laptops, desktops, and other communication devices used by the Humans chimed with a message from Anya: it was instructions to standby for instructions on how their specific Nations and States could work toward the goal Anya had told them they had to achieve.

 

[desperado1089]

UN General Assembly

British Special Branch officer Alec Brosnan had almost instinctively stepped in front of the British Ambassador to the UN once the hologram had appeared, and he noticed that many other security and bodyguards had done the same. But as she, Anya, began talking, he relaxed and listened to what she had to say.

Once it was all over and everyone's phones went off, some checked them. Others, like the UK and US Ambassadors, spoke up almost at the same time, with the US Diplomatic Security Service agent, a man named Bob Ross, flinching slightly at how his charge put himself at such risk. The general consensus was: how the hell were they expected to reduce their population?!

"Bloody good question," Alec muttered.

30,000 feet over the Atlantic Ocean

US Navy Master Chief Jonathan Hayes paced the interior compartment of the C-17 Globemaster where he and five of his brothers in arms were returning home from the Middle East. Tier One operators all, they wore the SEAL Trident with pride and did not fail. Their trusted CO, Warrant Officer Derek Forman, was holed up in the forward compartment on a call with HQ. Hayes had trouble sleeping anyway so he was content with ambling a bit.

Forman came aft and huddled up with Hayes. The bearded, mixed-race Forman used to be Hayes' number two before he decided to pursue a different path, but there was no one Hayes would rather be on the other end of the radio with. "Jon, seems there's some crazy shit going on at the UN. They ain't telling me shit but it's scaring the shit outta the cake-eaters." Jon elbowed his friend in the ribs lightly, a smirk on his face. "Careful who you call a cake-eater, Warrant Officer Forman." Derek shook his head and muttered, "Yeah, yeah."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

The White House
Washington DC
6 January 2026, 0945 Eastern Standard Time

President Allison Dean was posing for yet another portrait -- for what purpose this time she wasn't sure -- when one of her Chief of Staff's Aide's flew into the Oval, a very concerned expression on his face. The Aide whispered into CoS Parker Brown's ear for a long moment, after which Parker immediately commanded, "We're done here. Clear the Oval. Now!"

Even as the dozen others were clearing the office, Parker was pointing the remote control at the walnut shutters that hid the television from casual view; one of Allison's first demands upon claiming the Oval Office was that 'that monstrosity' -- the previous President's giant plasma television -- was removed and replaced with one half the size what would be hid from view except when needed.

The shutters' motors were still moving them off to the side as Parker found the live feed from the United Nations. Allison questioned her CoS as to what was so important about the Regular session, reminding him, "We don't have any issues of concern being put to the GA until--"

Allison went silent, though, at the holographic image of the alien called Anya hovering over the General Assembly. She moved closer to the screen, listening as the creature from space spoke about Earth based radio signals, distant star systems -- including Anya's own system of Yalla -- and what she called the Galaxy's most brutal species, the Preyna.

The President wasn't known for her casual use of profanity -- in public or in private -- and yet she found herself murmuring, "What ... the ... fuck...?" She looked to her CoS, asking, "This isn't real, right? Some ... Hollywood CGI shit? Russian propaganda deep fake?"

"I'm being told that it's really happening, Madam President," Parker reassured her. "There's nothing fake about it."

There was a hard rap at the door, followed by the hurried entrance of Victor Timms; his official title was Special Agent in Charge of the Presidential Protective Detail, but Allison found that very wordy and usually just called him My Bodyguard. He had that same serious look on his face that he'd had after uncovering the first credible threat on Allison's life and after the first actual attempt on her life four months after that.

He leapt into his routine of explaining and preparing Allison for her transfer to the bunker under the East Wing, but she waved the man off, saying, "We don't even know if there is a threat, and even if there is one, it isn't here -- it's in New York City."

Victor insisted, but Allison and Parker both talked the man down; the former of them demanded, "Everyone shut up! I want to hear this."

The alien spoke of how six planets with indigenous, intelligent species upon them had been conquered, with two of these civilizations exterminated. Again, Allison found herself mumbling, "What ... the ... fuck...?"

Other Aides and their Aides began hurrying into the Oval, feeling as though their presence was necessary. Each of them was warned to remain quiet and out of POTUS's way as Allison's attention remained firmly on the alien.

"My people have a technology that can intercept and disburse artificially created radio transmissions," Anya continued. "We deployed this technology here ... to prevent the Preyna from detecting you."

"That's good..." Allison asked no one in particular, adding, "...right?"

Most of those assembled were hesitant to answer, while others thought the question might have been rhetorical and also kept their mouths shut. Anya went on to explain that her shielding of Earth was soon to be moot, saying, "Something must be done if Planet Earth, the Human species, and all other life on this planet is to be saved."

As Anya paused, Allison couldn't help but blurt out, "What? What? What must be done?"

She felt rather silly for her outburst, reminding herself that she was the President of the United States of America, and that it was her job -- or at least that of her Aides and Advisors -- to figure out the answer to that question. But they were talking about an alien race warning them about another alien race coming to destroy them. This wasn't exactly something that was covered in Allison's daily morning briefing.

"Earth must begin its devolution toward a far less technological status to protect itself," Anya said.

Again, but without the hesitation, Allison found herself saying, "What the fuck?"

"This means, amongst other things, the end to your ambitions to explore space," the alien explained.

"Oh, no," Allison countered. "Not happening."

Allison's platform for the country's highest office had included a promise that during her first term, she would put Americans on the moon for the first time since 1972. Despite a tragedy that took the lives of 4 astronauts just weeks before she won the Presidential election, Allison was determined that they were going to reach the moon, alien threat or not.

Anya was continuing with her list of things that the people of Earth would have to do, "...the end to all transmissions capable of escaping your ionosphere, including radio, microwave, laser, and more."

Allison didn't respond this time; her mouth simply fell open in shock at the thought of doing such a thing. Anya was talking about essentially ending communications between countries, between cities within a country, between businesses and their customers and even friends and family who were any farther apart than shouting distance.

And the military, Allision thought to herself. How will be communicate with our forces abroad? Without electronic and digital communications passed about the globe by satellites or bounced off the ionosphere as simple radio signals, the United States -- as well as every other country on Earth -- would be unable to conduct business, diplomacy ... war.

Anya talked about how the changes would be difficult for a planet of 8 billion people, then dropped what Allison saw as the get the fuck outta hear and back to your own spaceship bomb: she spoke of reducing Earth's Human population, declaring, "...the Human Population of Earth must be reduced by half within a century--"

Allison laughed so loudly that she missed the rest of Anya's statement about the Preyna detecting Earth and exterminating its population."

Suddenly, the image of the alien vanished, and a moment later every electronic communication device in the room began ringing, vibrating, or both. Allison CoS looked to the tablet he was carrying, his eyes widening in shock at what he saw. He looked to Allison, informing her, "It's a list of orders, Madam President."

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Charles "Chuck" Peterson -- who arrived from the Situation Room a few minutes earlier -- exclaimed, "She can't be serious!"

"What, what?" Allison asked. "What is she telling us? Someone fucking talk to me!"

"We have 24 hours to ground all military aircraft," Parker read from his tablet, "And another 24 hours after that to ground all commercial aircraft."

"Jesus Christ!" the Chairman bellowed. "She's going to begin destroying our satellites ... all of our satellites in 48 hours."

The Oval erupted in a raucous conversation about the two dozen or so items that were included in what one Aide would call the Honey-Do list from outer space. As Allison realized that the noise of unhelpful conversation was preventing any real answers from being brought forth, she chose to head down to the Situation Room where hopefully heads would be clearer.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Outside the United Nations Building
New York City
6 January 2031, 0900 EST (35 minutes before Anya's arrival)

Chloe Marie Dubois casually walked along the waterfront, the East River to her left and the United Nations to her right. She'd been told that the 44-degree Fahrenheit temperature at this time of the morning was very abnormal for New York City. She liked the cold, though; it reminded her of her holidays in Zurich or Stockholm or one particularly cold but enjoyable wintertime photo shoot in Sapporo.

A few joggers had taken noticed the effect of the cold on her nipples, smiling and even greeting her as they passed; one had slowed significantly for a longer ogle, while another had stopped to jog in place as he greeted and flirted with Chloe, likely in the hopes for her name and cell number.

"Move along, sir," the man in a suit a dozen yards behind her called to the not-jogging jogger. When the man in the stylish exercise suit only stared back, the Suit said with emphasis, "This is the Ambassador's private time, sir. Please, move along."

The jogger -- still bounding up and down and now moving slowly backward to keep with the still strolling woman -- looked her up and down conspicuously, asking with surprise, "Ambassador?"

Chloe's bodyguard -- now walking her way double time -- again warned the man, leading her to wave him off. She smiled to the jogger, reached out a hand, and introduced herself with the melodic and sing-song accent of her upbringing in Marseille, "Chloe Marie Dubois, French Ambassador to the United Nations."

The jogger -- who'd stopped jogging and was now simply walking backwards to keep pace -- laughed, asking, "Really...? How...? I mean, you're so young ... and beautiful!"

Chloe giggled softly, responding, "Merci beaucoup, monsieur. But I'm not that young actually. Millie Brown wasn't even 15 years old when she was made a UNICEF Goodwill Ambassador."

She could see in the man's face that he didn't know who Millie Bobby Brown was, either as a United Nations Goodwill Ambassador or as an actress from the Netflix series Stranger Things, one of Chloe's favorite American-made streaming series. She could have explained it to him or listed some of the 14 full Ambassadors who'd taken their place at the United Nations at an age less than her current 28 years of age.

But her bodyguard called, "Miss, it's time to make our way to--"

Suddenly the man exclaimed, "Holy shit! You're her! Chloe Dubois! Sports Illustrated, swimsuit issue. You were Miss France!"

Chloe casually looked to her bodyguard, giving him the better get up here expression that she used often when fans recognized her. As he headed her way, Chloe corrected the man, "Non, j'étais le deuxième." Then, remembering she wasn't in France, translated, "I was the runner up, not the winner."

"We need to go, Miss," her bodyguard said again, stepping in between Chloe and the walking jogger. He gestured the man to move on, saying with a firm tone, "Thank you for your time, but the Ambassador has places to be."

As they headed for the Headquarters building, Chloe looked back to find the man explaining to others -- total strangers, she assumed -- who he'd just met. Some of them stared her way, wondering; others dismissed the man and continued with their own walks or jogs.

Chloe thought as they continued about how she'd ended up here as France's Ambassador to the UN. Her father was legally the Ambassador; she was only filling his shoes while he recovered in a New York City hospital from a stroke he'd suffered six days ago. Le corps diplomatique had wanted to send her father's Deputy from Paris when they'd heard of his collapse, but even he was down and out with a wicked case of flu.

So, they'd agreed to let Chloe stand in her father's place for the upcoming General Assembly. It wasn't as if she was only the Ambassador's kid. Chloe had been working for Le corps diplomatique for the past four years; she had 2 bachelor's degrees, 2 master's Degrees, and a PhD, though she refused to be called Doctor except on official government forms or during government or diplomatic functions.

And, of course, she was kinda well known to the French public: Chloe had been the runner-up in the 2022 Miss France competition; she'd model across Europe and beyond; and she'd been featured in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue ... thrice. The French Press was having a field day with stories about Chloe representing their country at the UN.

Her bodyguard got her inside and to her seat before heading away, not needed until the Session ended. Chloe chatted with some of her fellow Ambassadors about world issues while also signing autographs, something that happened just about anywhere she went. The session finally began, only to make a radical change when an oversized alien being suddenly appeared in the air above them.

Minutes later:

Chloe's first instinct once Anya's image disappeared was to look about herself for the other members of the United Nations Security Council; she knew enough about how the UN functioned to know that the representatives from the United States, the United Kingdom, China, Russia, and -- of course -- France would be the ones to set the course for whatever was to happen next.

She found the UK Ambassador in an animated conversation with the US Ambassador, Richard Connors. Making her way to them, Chloe caught their attention, offered her hand to each, and asked in her best English, "Would it be judicious of us to take this to the Security Council Chambers?" She looked about herself again, then asked the two English-first speakers, "Should we locate the Chinese and Russian Ambassadors and--"

"Who are you again?" Ambassador Connors asked with a snide tone.

Chloe was confused, as she and Ambassador Connors had already had two conversations over the past three days. Sure, they'd been just casual meet and greets, with no real diplomatic content to them, but still. She started to introduce herself again, thinking maybe the old man really had forgotten who she was.

But Richard cut her off, saying, "I know who you are, Miss Dubois. What I meant was ... you are only standing in for your father and haven't even been granted official status by your own country, let alone the UN itself. So ... I am confused about how you feel that you should be part of the conversation to be held by the Security Council."

While the man from Washington had been talking, the Ambassadors from China and Russia had come to join the group, followed by their Aides and Security Personnel. Just then, the phones, tablets, and even Apple watches being worn by the 5 Council members -- including Chloe, of course -- chimed, rang, or vibrated.

Chloe looked to her phone and found another message in addition to the previous one that had laid out Anya's demands for the Human race. It laid out instructions for the Security Council members to make themselves available for a face-to-face meeting with Anya the next day, in Bermuda of all places. And shocking Chloe all to hell was the last line in the message:

I am eager to make the acquaintance of the representatives of the United Nations' Security Council members, particularly you, Ambassador Dubois. Ignore what the US Ambassador thinks of you. You have my full faith.

Chloe's eyes grew wide as she thought How the hell did--

But even before she could finish her thought, Ambassador Connors was asking in shock, "How the hell did she know I said that?"

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

United Nations Building
New York City
6 January 2031, 10:15am Eastern Standard Time

Carrie Underhill stood against an interior wall of the foyer of the United Nations Headquarters building, staring silently at the trio of Security Guards who'd prevented her from entering the General Assembly Room for over half an hour. She didn't understand what the fucking problem was; sure, she wasn't wearing her typical Special Branch wardrobe; and sure, she'd gotten a bit mouthy with Security when they'd prevented her from entering the GAR to find her partner, Alec Brosnan; and sure, she still smelled of tequila and was wearing her sunglasses to hide her blood shot eyes.

But she had her proper United Nations Assignment papers, as well as her Special Branch ID and her passport, so -- again! -- what was the fucking problem?

When she'd arrived, Carrie had noticed that the Headquarters building was as busy as a beehive. This was her first SB assignment outside of the UK, let alone in the United States and United Nations, so she really had nothing to which she could compare this morning's activity. But over the last ten minutes or so, she'd come to realize that something not normal was happening. A dozen NYPD police cruisers, as well as a pair of armored car-style SWAT vehicles and a command center truck had all pulled up into the circular drive before the building.

And then there was what people were saying. Again and again, Carrie heard the word alien. Initially, she'd thought it was a reference to undocumented people, but then she began hearing people talk about solar systems and deep space and alien empires?

Every time she tried to talk to someone passing by, though, the asinine security guards gestured her back to the wall. All she could do was wait for Alec to come find her, assuming that her request to have a message taken to him actually got there.

 

[desperado1089]

United Nations Building
New York City
6 January 2031, 10:17 AM Eastern Standard Time

"Looks like Anya doesn't like the way you treat women, Ambassador," Alec Brosnan spoke up with a humorless smile. "Can't imagine why." As he enjoyed the way the US Ambassador's face turned purple, he clapped his hand on Ross's shoulder. "Hold down the fort for a minute, will you mate? Carrie is having a little trouble in the lobby." Brosnan and Ross had both served in their respective countries' military before this, Ross in Delta Force and Brosnan in the SAS; they had become friends and comrades both in joint ops in the Middle East, Africa and Southeast Asia as well as rekindling things in the halls of diplomatic snore-fests, as Ross put it.

As Brosnan made his way out to the lobby, he turned to the security guards. "Oi! The bloody hell you doing?! It's a madhouse out there and you turn my partner away? I should have you lot sacked!" He made a shooing gesture at them, and they looked at each other for a second before heading off to do whatever egotistical douches do when they're put in their place. "Hey, love. Hope you at least remembered your gun," he said, using the term 'love' in the typical British way, and not because they were romantically involved.

Somewhere along the line, a fairly effective hangover remedy, one that was more effective than the myriad products and TikTok remedies, had emerged onto the market, but it was increasingly hard to find. Since he knew his partner hated jet travel and tended to use a rather interesting choice of sedative, he'd made sure to keep an extra supply. He produced a vial of the special sauce, as they say, which was packaged very similarly to the ubiquitous 5-Hour Energy drink and its countless imitations, and held it out to her as he shielded her from further harassment with a friendly arm around her shoulders before leading her into the lion's den.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

United Nations Building
New York City
6 January 2031, 10:20 am Eastern Standard Time

"Oi!"

Carrie flinched at the sudden but familiar call of her partner from Special Branch, Alec Brosnan. He made his way toward her, chastising the foyer guards, "The bloody hell you doing?! It's a madhouse out there and you turn my partner away? I should have you lot sacked!"

She couldn't help but smile as he shooed them off to other misadventures. He greeted her, "Hey, love. Hope you at least remembered your gun."

Carrie glanced down at her rather casual wardrobe and chuckled; she normally wore a professional two- or even three-piece suit, as was required by SB when guarding big wigs like the British Ambassador to the United Nations. The sleeveless white blouse with the plunging V-neck, black leather jacket, and tight-fitting denim jeans and boots -- both of the latter also in black -- were far from regulation.

"Hey, I wasn't supposed to be working," she snapped, trying to sound vicious but -- with the smile -- failing horribly. "That other man ... what's his name, Harris...? He was supposed to show up here this morning, but he fell down the last four steps of the hotel stairs and sprang his ankle."

Carrie didn't know why she was explaining this to Alec; he'd surely gotten the message. She continued, "I was supposed to be sleeping off this hangover, not..." She gestured toward the general mayhem that was only getting worse throughout the foyer, finishing, "...dealing with whatever this is."

Alec produced a small vial, which Carrie snatched eagerly, saying, "God bless you, my son." She popped the top, downed the contents, grimaced at the faux orange flavor that wasn't fooling anyone, and pocketed the vial as she said, "Thank god for chemists."

She knew that here in the US they called them pharmacists, but then they hadn't created this hangover cure so why should they get named for credit, right. Carrie looked around, then looked to Alec, asking, "You wanna fill me in on what the hell's happening here? I could have sworn I heard someone say alien queen ... and another mentioned the words invasion and extermination."

Carrie held up an extended finger to shush Alec before he could even start, saying as she looked past him, "And just who is this coming out way?" A tall drink of water who had all the signs of being Diplomatic Corps Security, most probably American, was coming their direction with purpose. When he reached them, before either of the men could speak, Carrie stepped closer, offering out her hand as she said, "Carolyn Underhill, British Diplomatic Corps, Special Branch."

The smile on her face was screaming I wanna get naked with you, here, now, I don't care if we're surrounded by the World's diplomats and all their cronies. She chuckled, suddenly realizing how forward she'd sounded, laughed short but loud, and confessed, "Sorry. I might still be a little bit drunk from last night."

 

[desperado1089]

United Nations Building
New York City
6 January 2031, 10:23 am Eastern Standard Time

"Bob Ross, US Diplomatic Security Service. It's good to finally meet you in person, Officer Underhill. I've heard so much about you from Alec." The use of Brosnan's first name would hopefully not go unnoticed, nor would the casual way he spoke of 'hearing so much about her'. The trained agent glanced at the typical spots to hide a pistol, and said, "Shall we find you something more suitable to wear while Alec babysits the douche nozzle and his distinguished British counterpart? I think we actually have a van outside the side entrance where we have some spare equipment. What's your size? Nine-mil or forty-five?" Ross's arm replaced Brosnan's as he steered Carrie towards one of the exits off the foyer which led to the less refined service hallways and would eventually lead out the aforementioned side entrance, and Brosnan just rolled his eyes before returning to the GAR.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

United Nations Building
New York City

"Bob Ross, US Diplomatic Security Service," the handsome American said, taking Carrie's hand. "It's good to finally meet you in person, Officer Underhill."

Carrie has heard the name repeatedly during her three years of on again, off again partnership with Alec, but she'd never met Bob or even seen a photo of him. Of course, not seeing a pic want that uncommon in their line of work. One never knew when they might be pulled into UC work and not want their face to be known

"I've heard so much about you from Alec," Bob added

Still a bit loopy and flirty from the alcohol that he blood was still carrying -- the drinking hadn't ended until almost 5 am -- Carrie laughed and replied, "It's all true, even the bad stuff."

Carrie caught the American looking her over and misinterpreted it for a conspicuous, hungry ogle. Bob asked, "What's your size? Nine-mil or forty-five?"

Her still pounding brain didn't immediately realize that he was referring to barrel calibers and mission it for him asking her body measurements in some American way that she didn't understand. When the truth of his question finally struck her, Carrie laughed, turned her side to him, and lifted her leather jacket, and flashed the Beretta 92FS in an inside-the-belt holster.

"Nine," she answered, "It's a bit much for a conceal carry, particularly in the small of my back. Awkward when I sit. But like this--"

Carrie wore the holster so that the majority of the weapon was above he belt, with the barrel pointing toward the left. She finished, "--I can slip my hand easily between it and my back for a quick pull ... as quick as if it were on my hip or under my arm."

Besides the easy pull factor, Carrie had chosen this model of Beretta specifically for its reliability; when it came to semiautomatics under £800 -- $1000US -- the 92FS has the best jam avoidance history.

"A weapon I don't need," Carrie told Bob, "but a 48 ounce coffee I could go for."

 

[desperado1089]

United Nations Building
New York City

"Coffee it is!" The way Bob had looked at her was also meant to appraise her unmistakable beauty, so her interpretation, if he had been able to pick up on it, would have been spot-on in the end. Regardless, he walked with her to the visitor's center, and paid for whichever coffee she wanted.

"So what's a beautiful lady like you doing in a place like this?", he asked with a straight face before he started to burst out laughing. "Oh my God, how long has it been since anyone has used that line? Sorry, I just wanted an excuse to compliment your beauty, which, in my humble opinion, is exceptional."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

United Nations Complex
Visitors Center
Manhattan

Carrie walked alongside Bob to the building to the north for that badly needed cup of caffeine. The Visitor's Center had a much larger footprint in square footage, but the Headquarters building stood 39 stories tall. As they waited for their drinks, Bob asked, "So what's a beautiful lady like you doing in a place like this?"

She smiled wide as her earlier flirtation bounced back at her, with Bob laughing and saying, "Oh my God, how long has it been since anyone has used that line?"

"Not as long ago as you would imagine," she said, also laughing.

"Sorry, I just wanted an excuse to compliment your beauty," he continued, "which, in my humble opinion, is exceptional."

"Well thank you very much, handsome gentleman," she responded with a smile. The barista set their drinks before them, and taking them, then turning for a table, Carrie answered his question, "My father was a Bobby ... Metro cop, for 22 years. He died on the job, chasing a young spry burglary suspect through half of downtown London before his heart suddenly gave out on him. They found out in the autopsy that he ... well, his heart was bad, let's just leave it at that.

"My mother was MI5, believe it or not," Carrie continued. "The wasn't in the field, though. She sat behind a desk, but her work ... well, I don't honestly know what she was doing ... secrecy, need-to-know, and all that. But she had medals, both publicly and not.

"So, I guess service in the blood," she said proudly. "What about you?"

 

[desperado1089]

United Nations Complex
Visitors Center
Manhattan

"More or less a similar story, except both my parents are in a retirement home in California, if you can believe it. They're the exception to the rule among boomers that they get more conservative as they get older, so they won't go near Florida. Dad served in the Navy in 'Nam, mom was a nurse, and the rest, as they say, is history. Myself, I got my start in the Third Infantry Division before I went on to Ranger school and then Delta." Ross had no drink, as he was a firm believer that coffee was a direct contributor to how insanely rushed and stressed the whole country--hell, the whole world--was. "Met Alec during a joint op in some sandy hellhole and we've been friends ever since. Got out a year ago and made my way here."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

United Nations Complex
Visitors Center
Manhattan

Getting near 11am:

"More or less a similar story," Bob said, explaining about his family, then his service, and finally his meeting and befriending Alec Brosnan. "Got out a year ago and made my way here."

"Good place to make your way to, the Diplomatic Corps' protection force" Carrie said. "So far, because of this job, I've enjoyed hangovers on six of the seven continents. I had an opportunity to make it seven 'bout a year ago. Some guy from a governmental environment protection agency was heading for Antarctica, and they wanted to send someone with him. They wanted me 'cause, I hear, this guy sort of had a thing for me, but I told them I wasn't going to the fucking South Pole just so some Dip' could see my nipples get hard."

As soon as she'd said it, Carrie laughed embarrassingly, quickly apologizing, "Oh, God, that sounded bad. Sorry."

 

[desperado1089]

United Nations Complex
Visitors Center
Manhattan

Getting near 11am:

"Oh, trust me, I just think that guy had good taste," Bob said without missing a beat. "Why the insistence on getting drunk, though, if you don't mind my asking?", Ross asked, dropping the flirtatious tone in favor of a calm, concerned one. "I mean, I've heard Alec mention it's because you hate jet travel, but I'm wondering if there's more to it. Warrior's honor, whatever you say won't go beyond us unless I think it can endanger yourself or others."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

United Nations Complex
Visitors Center
Manhattan

Getting near 11am:

Carrie laughed again when Bob agreed with her suspicions about the horny diplomat, saying, "Oh, trust me, I just think that guy had good taste."

She laughed again but otherwise didn't respond, not wanting to further toot her own horn about her attractiveness. Carrie knew she'd gotten lucky in the looks department thanks to some good DNA from her parents and a dedication to healthy living from her own self.

Then, as others before had, Bob asked with a more serious tone, "Why the insistence on getting drunk, though, if you don't mind my asking?"

She looked away, pretending to be interested in a loud conversation taking place between two men walking by in haste. In reality, she'd simply been reluctant for him to see her reaction to the question, which she'd rightfully feared would be the glazing over of her eyes.

He continued, "I mean, I've heard Alec mention it's because you hate jet travel, but I'm wondering if there's more to it."

Carrie blinked her eyes several times, clearing them of the potential tears before looking back to Bob as he promised, "Warrior's honor, whatever you say won't go beyond us unless I think it can endanger yourself or others."

"It can't," she said, clarifying, "Endanger anyone."

She contemplated how to answer his inquiry or even whether or not she should. They weren't partners, which meant she was neither his responsibility nor responsible for him. Of course, she had no idea that within mere minutes, they were both going to learn that they would be working closely together for a few days at the least and possibly months or even years at the most.

"I don't mean to sound evasive, Bob," she said, pausing to sip at her coffee before continuing, "But it's not really something I want to talk about right now." She smiled and playfully patted him on the chest, saying, "But I promise, I'll tell you all about it one day ... if we ever get to know each other better."

Carrie didn't for a moment believe that they'd be getting to know one another better any time soon, so her promise was really moot. At least, that was what she thought. As she downed another gulp of chocolate flavored caffeine, Alec hurried up to tell them that both of their Security Teams had new orders.

"Wait, wait!" Carrie cut in, reminding both men, "No one's told me what the fuck's going on around here. Aliens...? Are we talking undocumented aliens...? Or...?"

She stood there in ever growing disbelief as the two men explained what they'd heard from this alien hologram named Anya. And then there was the Bermuda message, which each of the Security Council Ambassadors and their staffs had received, telling them that they were to make their way to the British Overseas Territory within 24 hours for a face-to-face with Anya.

When a lull in the explanation finally arrived, Carrie simply mumbled, "What the fuck...?"

Just then, her cell phone vibrated on her hip, and when she looked to it, she was confused. Normally for incoming text messages, her phone displayed the sender's name and phone number, the date and time of receipt, and the first couple of lines of the message; if she wanted to read the entire message, Carrie only needed to tap the popup.

But this message filled her entire screen, without any such identifiers as name, number, etc. It read:

I am eager to make the acquaintance, Officer Underhill.
I understand that you are a unique woman with a
unique background and history. I am delighted
to know that I will have the opportunity
to sit and speak with you in the days to come.
With the greatest respect, Anya
​

She finished the message, then reread it again, before looking to Alec and asking, "Is this from her...? That alien chick, Anya? Why's she sending this to me? She doesn't know me for Eve ... does she?"

But the others' phones had vibrated or rang, too, with a similar greeting and declaration of delight in meeting and speaking to them. Carrie asked with total confusion, "How the fuck does she do that?"

 

[desperado1089]

United Nations Complex
Visitors Center, Manhattan
6 January 2031, 11:00 AM Eastern Standard Time

Bob had not missed the glazing over of her eyes, nor the tears that threatened to fall. Oh. Oh, no, he thought to himself. When she returned her gaze to him, he wore a neural expression, but when she promised that she'd tell him when they got to know one another, he reached out to take her hand. "I'd like that very much," he whispered, despite the unlikely nature of that happening.

But fate, it seemed, had plans for these two and their continued bonding was all but assured when they were told to meet with Anya in Bermuda. When Carrie asked how she does that, he smirked and said, "This woman and her people were watching us for decades now. She's gonna meet with us in two days, and she knows enough about Earth to pick the venue. She texted our phones and turned them, at least temporarily, into listening devices. You think there's much she can't do?", Ross asked with a smile. But something else caught his attention. He spoke into his phone. "Hey, Anya. Pretty sure you can hear me. If we're gonna have to ground all our flights, how are we gonna get to Bermuda before everyone else starts switching to ground transport en masse?" He expected her or her people to respond with another text message.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

United Nations Complex
Visitors Center, Manhattan
6 January 2031

Carrie Underhill listened to the American, Bob Ross, taunt the alien about the request that they get to Bermuda despite the closure of the Earth's entire airspace; a chill ran up her spine, flooding her arms and shoulders with gooseflesh. But then, after thirty seconds, nothing new had happened, and Carrie looked to her partner and boss, Alec Brosnan with somewhat of a relieved expression.

"I don't think I want this woman, alien or not, listening in on my phone calls, Jesus," she said.

Then, Carrie's relief popped like a soap bubble hitting a hairbrush when a woman who's wild, red hair that looked like it needed a hairbrush stepped up to the trio, asking, "Hey, is one of your Carrie Underhill...?" She looked to her smart phone, reading as she continued, "...and ... Alec Brosnan and Bob Ross?"

She looked up again, smiled wide, and asked, "Bob Ross, wasn't he that guy who taught landscape painting on PBS for, like I dunno, a million years--"

"And who are you?" Carrie interrupted impatiently; her hangover had finally faded away, but the madness of what was happening here this morning was still causing her head to hurt.

The young woman grabbed the ID card hanging from a lanyard around her next and thrusted it out. "Florence MacDonald, Associated Press." She dropped the ID, continuing, "I was here to cover the Regular Session, when I started getting text messages to my phone. I guess they're coming from her... ? ... this alien chick, Anya?"

Carrie reached out and snatched the redhead's phone, much to Florence's chagrin, and looked at the screen. She snorted in disbelief, then held the phone up for her partner and Bob to see. "It's an itinerary. There are to be cars waiting for us out front in two hours to take us all to LaGuardia. All of us: you three, me, all of the UN Security Council members and their aides and security--"

She looked to the reporter, continuing with a hair color reference, "--Lucille Ball here, and a list of others, some of whom I've never heard of, and some of whom I have." She was again reading from Florence's phone, naming off people who -- while not Ambassadors -- held elected and non-elected positions in their respective countries that were related to everything from reducing global warming to feeding the world's starving regions to stopping military conflicts.

Carrie looked up to the two men again, simultaneously shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders as she finished, "I'm not afraid to admit this, but this woman is simultaneously impressed the fuck out of me while also scaring the shit out of me."

"And all this from an Elf," Florence cut in. When Carrie looked at her with a confused expression, the reporter snatched her phone back, tapped the screen a few times, and held it up again, showing a portrait-like image of Anya. "This came to my phone, too. It was included in what my boss is already calling a Manifesto for Mankind. The guy's using it as the headline for the article on the AP's website."

"Manifesto?" Carrie asked. She looked to Alec, who -- with input from Bob -- had explained to her what she'd missed in the General Assembly Room.

 

[desperado1089]

LaGuardia International Airport, Private Hangar
6 January 2031, 1:00 PM Eastern Standard Time

"How the hell did she arrange this?", Ross asked in bewilderment as he stared up at a Boeing VC-25B, only two of which existed in the whole world. The two aforementioned planes were converted Boeing 747-8Is and, more importantly, famous worldwide as the aircraft commonly known as Air Force One. The security risks of bringing Russian and Chinese diplomatic and security personnel aboard one of the presidential planes was not lost on Ross or any of the security personnel that were from NATO countries.

Luckily, there were a contingent of Air Force Security Force officers aboard in addition to the flight crew, who were tasked with ensuring only authorized personnel accessed the flight deck or other sensitive areas, which included the state-of-the-art communications center that was put to use in the eponymous movie by Gary Oldman's villain to taunt Glenn Close's Vice President. Apparently, Ross' military background served him well here, for he was on the list of personnel allowed topside, not to mention he knew how to use some of that equipment effectively; Brosnan, Carrie and the NATO diplomats rounded out that list. There were secure lines for everyone down in the passenger cabins, but there was nevertheless a subtle lack of trust shown to the Russian and Chinese contingents.

As he settled in, Ross gave Carrie a significant look, silently entreating her to sit next to him.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

LaGuardia International Airport, Private Hangar
6 January 2031, 1:00 PM Eastern Standard Time

"How the hell did she arrange this?" Bob Ross asked as he looked up at the blue and white jet.

Carrie Underhill was wide eyed with shock, asking, "Air Force One...? Seriously?"

"I've been on it," Florence MacDonald said with a matter-of-fact tone. When the others looked her way, she waggled the ID on the lanyard around her neck, saying as if it was as normal as rain, "Press." Then, smiling sheepishly, she confessed, "POTUS's Chief of Staff had a hard-on for me. I overheard him tell some Aide that he wanted to know whether the carpet matched the drapes."

Carrie couldn't help it, asking, "And...?"

Florence giggled, responding, "What carpet?"

Aboard:

Carrie had never been aboard POTUS's jet, but -- from the Hollywood depictions of it -- she didn't think that all this security was normal, even if Allison Dean wasn't aboard at the time. She couldn't help but wonder if the additional bodies were because of Anya or because of the Russian and Chinese delegations.

As the jet accelerated down the runway, rapidly increasing its speed to just over 200 mph by the time the rear wheels left the tarmac, Carrie's fingertips dug into armrests so hard that her nails would leave indents in the vinyl for several minutes. Bob had been correct when he'd said that she didn't like flying, and it mattered not that she was in the plane that carried the President.

The plane had reached cruising speed by the time she was conscious enough of her surroundings to realize that Bob was giving her a meaningful look. She took a moment to settle her nerves, then unbuckled, stood, and went to sit next to him, whispering immediately about her obvious anxiety, "Not a fucking word."

As they talked, Florence was up and around trying to talk to anyone who would speak with her. She was hearing a lot of the same stuff from different people, and most of it she'd already heard back at the UN. Then, a uniformed officer moved up close to her, asking, "Miss MacDonald, do you have a moment? Someone would like to speak with you?"

"Really?" she responded with surprise. Under her breath as the man led her away toward the restricted portion of the plane, she murmured to herself, "About time."

They continued onward to what her experience told her was the private office of POTUS's Chief of Staff, Parker Brown. She was confused because she POTUS wasn't aboard, so why would her CoS be. The officer opened the door, gestured Florence inside, and closed the door behind her; he remained outside, though.

There didn't seem to be anyone else there, and -- after her initial moment of confusion -- Florence's curious nature and desire to know things she to which she wasn't privy caused her to want to poke around. Just then, though, American Ambassador to the United Nations, Richard Connors, stepped out of the private bathroom.

Very much under her breath, Florence murmured, "What the hell...?"

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard Air Force One
En Route to Bermuda
6 January 2031, 1:30 PM Eastern Standard Time

When Carrie sat down next to him, Ross shrugged and said, "No idea what you're talking about." He was being both diplomatic, preserving her secret, as well as somewhat playful, but his eyes turned suspicious when someone asked to speak privately with Florence. "Wonder what that's about," he muttered before deciding to put it on the back burner for now and focus on Carrie.

"So...I didn't miss the way you looked at me when we first met," he said, his tone taking on a flirtatious air. "Was there anything to that, or did I take one too many hits to the head when I ran with Delta?" He fixed her with a grin that could melt diamonds as he waited for her response.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

Aboard Air Force One
En Route to Bermuda
6 January 2031, 1:30 PM Eastern Standard Time

"No idea what you're talking about," Bob responded to Carrie's threat regarding bringing up her fear of flying.

"Good," she said, feigning toughness. "Remember that."

They saw the beautiful redheaded reporter being whispered to by a uniformed officer, leading Bob to ask, "Wonder what that's about."

"Heaven only knows," Carrie said. Then, remembering what they'd seen from the alien so far, she added, "Or Anya maybe."

"So ... I didn't miss the way you looked at me when we first met," he told Carrie, his tone flirtatious.

"You're dreaming," she laughed unconvincingly. "I was drunk."

"Was there anything to that?" he continued. "Or did I take one too many hits to the head when I ran with Delta?"

"Tell me about Delta," she said, attempting to avoid answering the question put to her. Carrie was only half-serious about avoiding a response, though, and seeing that her diversion wasn't working, told him, "Maybe. I mean..." She gave Bob a once over up and down survey, smirked, and said, "If you were the last man on Earth maybe. Maybe even the second to the last?"

She chuckled and looked away, realizing that she was blushing again. Playfully, Carrie donned her sunglasses again and smiled. She again changed the subject, saying, "Interesting fact about LaGuardia. It's original terminal, the Marine Air Terminal, was a waterfront terminal. It was designed to serve Pan American's the fleet of flying boats, the Clippers. Can you believe that shit? Floating planes flying all the way to Europe and back, or to the Caribbean.

"The interesting part -- I did say this was interesting, didn't I?" she continued, thinking she saw in Bob's expression a lack of interest in her rambling, either that or a deep desire to get back to the question of whether she was hot for him like she assumed he was for her. She finished, "The last Pan American flight out of the waterfront terminal in '52 was going the same place we're going ... Bermuda." She tipped her head forward, looking over the top of her glasses, asking, "Interesting ... right?"

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard Air Force One
En Route to Bermuda

Despite the sexually charged nature of the way she initially beheld him, Ross actually did find the information presented to him interesting. Perhaps it was its esoteric nature, or perhaps it was the way she presented it, but he did genuinely listen to her, even if he wanted to return to their previous topic. "That's actually kinda cool. Must have been fun, flying on one of those things. Useful too, cause if you gotta make an emergency landing over water, if you set it down right the bird can be reused after it gets fixed up. No idea why they didn't run with that. Probably the same reason nothing else is made the way they used to be: big corporations focused more on lining their executives' pockets than turning out quality products or, heaven forbid, paying their workers a living wage. Anyway, that's a whole other can of worms. Got any other interesting tidbits to put off answering my question with? I could listen to you talk for hours, so don't feel compelled to give in just yet."

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

AAboard Air Force One
En Route to Bermuda

"That's actually kinda cool," Bob responded to Carrie's story about the flying boats.

Carrie did her best not to smirk at his reaction; she was certain -- although incorrectly, as it was -- that Bob had no interest in PanAm's Clipper fleet or the airport terminal that had served them and was simply humoring her. Somehow, his humoring her made her even more attracted to him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Carrie was most definitely attracted to Bob. She might have been both drunk and hungover upon their first meeting when she so awkwardly fawned over him, but that didn't change the fact that he was one fucking hot looking man.

As he talked on about Laguardia, Carrie's gaze moved back and forth between his eyes and mouth. She loved the way the former had taken her in earlier in the day and several times since them, and she couldn't help but fantasize how the latter might feel wrapped around her pussy lips while the tongue currently forming his words was instead flicking her bean. She quietly chastised herself, My God, did you just think that! What the fuck?

Carrie was deep in dirty thoughts when a short lull brought her out, just in time to hear Bob ask, "Got any other interesting tidbits to put off answering my question with?"

Carrie chuckled, whispering, "A dog with a bone, you are."

"I could listen to you talk for hours," Bob complimented her, "so don't feel compelled to give in just yet."

Carrie looked about them for eavesdroppers and found no one seeming to be paying them any undue attention. She pushed her sunglasses down her nose and looked into Bob's eyes over them and whispered, "There's a little cove near the south end of Bermuda's Main Island ... Main with a capital "M". That cove has a little beach. That beach is a private beach ... a private nude beach ... accessible only by those with a membership card ... of which ... I have one, thanks to my paternal grandfather having been a member of the club while he resided in Bermuda."

She paused as some people passed by, then reclined her seat back, pushed her sunglasses back to hide her eyes, and finished, "If we can manage to get some free time between whatever we're doing in Bermuda ... I'll take you there. But for now, I desperately need to sleep off this air sickness."

 

[desperado1089]

Aboard Air Force One
En Route to Bermuda

Ross was enjoying their banter very much, and didn't miss the way she zoned out on his face. Maybe she was imagining the ways he could lick her pussy. It had certainly been one of many such thoughts in his head.

When she mentioned a nude beach, his expression grew almost hungry as he leaned back in his seat. "I can't wait. Go ahead and get some rest. I'll watch over you." Indeed, he only got up for bathroom breaks for the remainder of the flight.

 

[MarieDavisRPs]

The White House
Washington DC
6 January 2026, 2:15 pm

President Allison Dean rose from behind the Resolute desk with an astonished expression on her face, asking her Chief of Staff, "Where ... is it ... and ... where is it going?"

Parker Brown hesitated before answering, "Over the Atlantic, Madam President ... on its way to Bermuda." He glanced at his watch, adding, "It should be there in, what, maybe 30 minutes."

"Air Force One?" Allison asked stupefied. "It's on its way ... to Bermuda?"

Her Speech Writer spoke up. "Actually, Madam President, it isn't actually Air Force One ... if you're not on it at the time."

All around the room, faces turned to look at him; most of them had that keep your mouth shut until you're asked a question expression in their eyes. He shrugged, saying meekly, "I'm just saying ... if POTUS isn't on the--"

Allison began blasting away with questions: "Why is it going to Bermuda?"

Her CoS answered, "It's taking the Security Council Delegation to meet with the alien representative, Anya."

"It's my fucking plane!" Allison snapped. "Why the fuck was it in New York? It's supposed to be at Andrews, here, in D.C.!"

"Maryland," the Speech Writer again chimed in, pausing at more dirty looks to mumble, "Not ... D.C."

"Who sent it to New York City?" POTUS snapped. She looked to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Charles Peterson for a response, since the plane was guarded and operated by his people, the military. "Chuck, what the fuck?"

Charles, just like the others in the room, had begun noticing how much more profanity had been flowing from the mouth of POTUS over the last few hours. He let his pass -- she was his boss, and he wasn't her mother -- and instead answered, "We're trying to figure that out, Madam President."

He stepped up to her desk, laying a tablet before her with an explanation of what he was about to tell her, "Somehow, a series of official orders made it through the chain of command, ordering that the plane be flown to LaGuardia this morning, to be made available for the US Ambassador to the United Nations, Richard Conners--"

"I know who our Ambassador to the UN is, General, Jesus Christ!" Allison snapped again, dropping into her chair as if suddenly out of energy.

The Chairman waited until he thought it was an appropriate time, then continued, "My people have and are again going through the orders and points of contact, Madam President. It would seem at first glance that they were all sent by and approved by the right people in the right places."

"Did Anya do this?" Allison asked more calmly. She looked to her CoS. "Parker, did she do this? Or is this some sort of deep fake AI hack? I mean, it's Air Force One! What is she going to do next...? Order the bombers to hit Russia? Fire the ICBMs at China?"

Suddenly, as phones and tablets throughout the Oval chimed or vibrated, the television on the far wall -- which had been muted and showing various news reports about the morning's incidents -- came alive with Anya's image as she spoke aloud, "Greetings to the People of Planet Earth. My name is Anya. I am the Representative of my People, the Yalla..."

Allison stood again, demanding, "Move, move! I can't see her."

Anya went on with her introduction and some of what she'd told the United Nations' General Assembly this morning; she left out the part -- for now -- about how Earth needed to shed half of its nearly 8-billion-person population in just a century. She went on to explain that her civilization had been protecting Earth from a third species that, in her words, was not as nice as my own People.

"In an effort to reassure you that the Human Race and Planet Earth have nothing to fear of me or the People of Yalla," Anya continued, "I am meeting with some of the leaders of your Civilization tomorrow."

"Not me!" Allison snapped. "I'm the fucking President of the United States of America, bitch." She hadn't heard yet that Anya seemed to be able to hear anything and possibly everything spoken by Humans within hearing range of an electronic communications device yet; that discovery was still in the works, as well as disputed by some people to whom the idea had been suggested.

"I will explain to the Members of your United Nations' Security Council," Anya went on, "all of the benevolent things that I and my People can do for you, the People of Earth, in the days, months, and years to come."

Anya went on with reassurances that the people of Earth had nothing to fear from her. Then, she finally got to the part of her UN presentation that was causing a stir on social media and the television and internet news sources. "Some of you may be concerned ... frightened even ... of a statement I made earlier today at your United Nations' General Assembly ... about how the population of Planet Earth is too large and must be reduced.

"Please ... please understand me when I say that this in no way meant ... I think one of the words used in your societies is ... culling. No one is being killed. No part of your society is being exterminated. I promise you. My People have a technology that will permit the transport of vast, unimaginable numbers of Human Beings from Earth to one of four distant planetary bodies ... three planets and a large moon. These planets are very Earth-like in every way but are also unique in their own ways. They can support and nurture Human life, and over time, those of you who wish to relocate to these bodies will build wonderful, new lives."

Thus far, Anya had had a pleasant enough expression on her face, but now she smiled wider as she added, "I think that most Human Beings would find each of these places beautiful and wonderfully unique in their own way. Over the days to come, I will permit selected members of your species to venture to these planets ... to check them out, survey them ... see that they are in fact a place where Human Beings can live and work, play and enjoy life, just as they do here on Earth--" Her smile widened even more, "--or perhaps even more so."

Anya returned to her reassurances that all would be fine here on Earth, and that no one should be fearful. "You might have noticed by now that I have the ability to send messages to all forms of electronic devices, and that no matter who you are or where you live, that you hear my voice and my words in what I believe you call your First Language.

"When I finish speaking to you now," she said, her tone uplifting, "I will send to the People of Earth a list of things that I believe would make their lives better immediately ... things that they can do for their families, friends, neighbors, and even people whom they have never met but with whom they share this beautiful but fragile planet."

She made her farewells, smiled a final time, and ended her broadcast. Immediately, all communication devices again signaled the receipt of an alert. Allison -- who didn't carry such things personally -- asked anxiously, "What does it say? What did she say?"

Her CoS began skimming his tablet, then told her, "There's a lot here ... but ... wow..."

"What?" Allison snapped.

The Speech Writer, who simply couldn't keep his mouth shut, said, "There's a whole laundry list of things here ... social service type stuff ... feeding your neighbors, housing ... ending homelessness and strife and all the tricky words and phrases ... just like I write them in a speech for you every time we need a bump in your approval ratings."

Another Aide added, "She says that any person who gives aid and comfort to their neighbor ... will be rewarded."

One of the Aides said, "My message includes a home remedy for my son's breathing problems ... and she called him by his name, Matthew."

"I got one, too," another occupant of the Oval said. "It's a rash remedy for my daughter, Denise. We've tried everything and can't rid of it. This says..." The man's voice trailed off as he red, and the room was abuzz for nearly half an hour with what they were reading, both general messages for the world and personal messages for each and every person in the room