Chapter 2

Major Sun straightened her beret, checked the pendant was safely tucked in her breast pocket and stepped out of the artificially-bright warehouse into the grey autumn day.

Her straight black hair, usually tightly-pulled into a bun, sat on her shoulders and she was mentally cursing having it cut short the week before. She'd thought she was off to Brussels for a desk job. Instead she was fighting drizzle in an East London industrial park during what looked like an alien invasion.

The car pulled back and she walked briskly over as the Brigadier got out of the car, placing his cap on his grey hair in a single definite, practiced motion.

She saluted with a crisp, "Sir."

"Major, I trust everything is in order."

"Yes, Sir, the base of operations has been established."

He moved toward the main warehouse and she fell into step with him.

"And has there been any luck in finding this 'Tom Clarke'?"

"Sorry, Sir, I'm afraid that Thomas Clarke is a remarkably common name. There are hundreds in the UK, maybe thousands. We've eliminated everyone over 65 and under 21 from our enquiries but that still gives us an extremely large number of names to sift through in England alone."

"And what else do we know about him? Aside from the fact these aliens seem to think he's some sort of leader."

"Very little, Sir. We're assuming he's a politician or a diplomat. Maybe a soldier. But the message from the aliens was brief and we've heard nothing more from them since they broadcasted it last night."

"And do we know how they managed to do that? Broadcast worldwide on our frequencies? And in perfect English, which is possibly even more disturbing."

"No, Sir. They're clearly more technically-advanced than us by a significant margin."

"Which makes it all the more puzzling why they'd be asking for a negotiation without any show of military strength. And not with the UN or the EU or China or the US. With this Tom Clarke."

"Indeed, Sir. Maybe he's in the corporate world? An eccentric billionaire who's contacted aliens in his spare time?"

"This isn't a comic book, Major."

"No, Sir. Sorry, Sir. Just trying to be flexible. Think outside the box. And... we're here."

"Here" was the converted warehouse she'd spent the night setting up while those above her held global crisis meetings with every organisation from SETI and NASA to the Gates Foundation. It appeared nobody had a contingency plan for something that seemed to be taken from the plot of the last Superman film. Apart from 'find Superman'.

"Sir, I've partitioned the warehouse into a staging area, a briefing room and facilities. There are two conference rooms and we're in the process of setting up a lab. A very well-equipped one if I understand correctly.

"I've arranged a staff briefing in the smaller conference room so we can discuss what we know so far. Troops here so far are mostly boffins, Sir. Strategic, scientific, engineering. Some private sector. Some NGO."

He nodded, his face neutral. But she'd seen enough neutral military expressions in her time to know what they meant.

"I know what you're thinking, Sir. You're thinking nothing will be achieved by yet another briefing. Not with the sparse intelligence we have so far. But I think people need it. I think they need to feel like they're doing something. And you never know, they might come up with something."

He expression remained neutral but he looked directly at her for the first time and nodded. Then he took a quick, deep breath and opened the door into the conference room.

"Good morning, everyone, my name is Brigadier Spiers and I am officially in command of the Combined Armed Services response to the current threat. At least once we're sure what the current threat is.

And this is Major Sun, NATO attache. She will be our liaison to any possible military response to these... aliens.

As you know, at 2032 two nights ago, an alien race known as the Nekross hacked into the broadcasting frequencies of the entire world and relayed a message.

That message, from a being we know only as Varg, said the Nekross had come from the Planet Nekron and would only speak to somebody named Tom Clarke. He is apparently in what the Nekross called 'the Earth Sector known as England'. At 2145 last night, the UK government in concert with the EU, NATO and the United Nations tasked me to head up an operational unit in the UK to find this Tom Clarke and to gather intelligence on our enemy. If that is what they are. Questions?"

They'd been up all night and by early evening even the unflagging Sun was testy from caffeine and lack of sleep. They had the video from last night's broadcast and that was it. No other information. No signals or sightings. They were assuming the broadcast was sent from orbit but they couldn't detect a ship from the ground or from satellites. The ISS had seen nothing.

She'd think it was a remarkable hoax except that some Oxbridge child genius had informed her the broadcast had 'no terrestrial origin' and was definitely made with alien technology.

Sun had struggled with people taking her seriously when she'd been promoted so young so she tended to resist the urge to judge people by their age. But, honestly, how old was that Benny Sherwood? He looked about 12. And, now that she thought about it, she wasn't even entirely sure what agency he was with. Well, the other boffins seemed impressed by his work so that was the important thing.

The Brigadier had left after lunch to try to get some sleep and to touch base with what she couldn't help mentally referring to as "the brass". She'd set herself up a bed in a closet so she could get some rest herself when...

"Major? Major, I think you need to come here."

It was Sherwood, poking his eager face through her office door. Like everyone else, he looked crumpled in his casual trousers and shirt. But unlike everyone else he didn't look tired. She wondered what was keeping him bouncing around like a schoolkid on an exciting field trip but decided it was better off not knowing.

"Yes, Sherwood."

"It's the aliens, Miss. I mean, Ma'am. I mean, Major..."

"You're a civilian, Sherwood. You can call me Theresa. Or Sun."

"Sun? I like that. You're Canadian of Chinese descent?"

"Well done. Most people think I'm American. Of generic Asian descent.

"Wow. Asia's a big place."

"Yes it is. But I think there was a matter of some urgency?"

"Sorry, Major. Sun. The aliens. They've made contact. They're... um... waiting on the line?"

"Wait, do you mean direct contact? To here?"

"Well, technically through a satellite uplink we have that we've been using to try to locate them. We must have ... pinged them... or something."

"But Brigadier Spiers isn't here. We need a General or a Head of State or something."

"No time. The satellite will be out of range in 10 minutes."

"I... I can't."

"Yes you can. You have to. Otherwise it's me. And it... it can't be me."

She was momentarily surprised by his tone but dismissed it as nerves. She was certainly struggling with the idea of it being her.

"Ok. Have we found Tom Clarke?"

"Technically no."

Her natural self-assuredness was blasted momentarily by an attack of extreme self-doubt. A lot of people were not going to be happy about this. It could end her career. Or make it. She could start a war with a single word. Or stop one.

"Ok, Sherwood. Let the Brigadier know and show me where to go."

She walked into the staging area and took several quick deep breaths to calm her nerves, closing her eyes for a moment to block out the enormity of what she was about to do. Possibly the first human to speak to an alien.

"Make the connection," she said to the technician. She looked over her shoulder for Sherwood but he was nowhere to be seen.

She'd seen the video. A hundred times. Possibly more as they'd scanned it for clues, intelligence. Insight into the creature. Analysed its language, its syntax, its use of words, its enunciation. And learned little.

The species had a reptilian quality. And some sort of vestigial mouth and eye that framed its face. It was yellow but also mottled. Its eyes were eerily human. Its teeth omnivorous. Or at least they would have been all those things if they'd evolved on Earth.

Who knew how and why evolution had expressed those thing on this strange world. Nekross. But still. Those eyes. Maybe it was a hoax. A brilliant one. A genius in prosthetics with a camcorder and a talent for hacking.

No terrestrial origin.

No. No hoax was this good.

And no amount of controlled breathing prepared her for when the widescreen monitor connected and she saw him.

"And who are you?" he gritted through his teeth. Rudeness? Arrogance? How could you tell with someone from a culture so different it evolved in a different galaxy.

She unconsciously tugged her shirt down below her jacket and managed, "My name is Major Theresa Sun, representing the..."

"What you are is irrelevant. Where is Tom Clarke?"

"I apologise but we haven't been able to find him yet. Tom Clarke is a very common name. Perhaps if..."

"The Nekross have little interest in your excuses. Or your incompetence. And I, Varg, King Regent of Nekron have come here to finish a war, not start one. I have little time for a low-ranked unenchanted. If the wizards are too scared to come out of the shadows then maybe they need some incentive."

Wizards. Unenchanted. What the...

"I see you are in a factory in East London. Let's see how fast your precious protector of the unenchanted comes out of hiding once I bomb you out of existence."

"Enough, Varg."

The air beside her shimmered and seemed to fall away and beside her was a young brunette man about 18 in basic jeans and a t-shirt.

"You wanted my attention, Varg. Well, you got it. Any particular reason for the exhibition?"

Varg gave what she could only describe as a grin, "Ah. Tom Clarke. So glad you could join us."

"What do you want, Varg?"

"You know what I want. I told you after our last encounter. I want magic. All of it."

"So why involve the unenchanted? Why go through this charade? They have nothing to do with this. This is between you and me."

"You have the audacity to ask that question. After what you did to my sister? I want your planet's magic. But maybe now I'll take the rest of the planet as well. Earth will become a part of the Nekron empire."

"You know I won't let that happen."

"I know you'll try. But let's see how your precious unenchanted respond to wizards being among them. Let's see how well they cope with knowing about magic. And aliens. Let's see how well you hide from the Nekross when you have a whole planet of people looking at you.

I'm sending this conversation around the world as we speak. Everyone everywhere is watching us right now.

Everyone knows who you are, Tom Clarke. Everyone knows your face. Everyone knows what you are. Everyone knows about magic. And wizards. And you, warrior wizard of the Line of Crowe.

And now, as promised, I have targeted the facility you're in. You have two minutes, Wizard. Show the humans what you're capable of. Or die."

The transmission ended.

And for the first time in her life, Theresa Sun had no idea what to do.

So apparently I've joined a fandom that wants to feed me. Thanks for your reviews. And for the cookies, cupcakes, tea and pastries.

I swear I didn't remember the 'global broadcast' thing was part of that awful Superman film until I'd written this chapter.