As luck would have it, Mankind's first official interaction with an alien species (that was not covered up successfully by the government) was with the Warlords of Hurumpharump. If you sound like you are clearing your throat when you are saying it, you are saying it right; when in doubt, cough and add more phlegm.
When their mighty spaceships, fifty miles wide, appeared above every major city on Earth, humanity wet its collective pants and waited for the end. For ten days, they hovered there. I hate to admit it, but we did not behave very well. There was the requisite gnashing of teeth, weeping, some self-flagellation amongst the Catholics who were forced to admit, that perhaps we had not been made in His image after all. Seeing how these aliens had been able to do something we could not, perhaps He was made in their image.
Wholesale looting, riots, destruction of government property were the order of the day until martial law had been declared nearly all over the world. Most governments cracked down on their populations until quiet streets were the order of the day. People went out to shop for food and supplies and quickly returned home. Stock markets all over the planet went offline, for fear of catastrophic collapse during this time of crisis. But nothing happened.
After two weeks of hovering there, people went back to work and tried to ignore the alien ships. Once people had resumed their normal lives; as normal as one's life could be with a fifty mile wide alien spaceship hovering above your city, the alien ships simply disappeared. All but one. The ship over New York did not leave.
News reports of the disappearance of the other alien craft caused jubilation in some, trepidation in others. Most assumed the end of the world was nigh and we had been found wanting. Scientists madly searched the sky for any trace of the aliens and nothing could be discovered.
The next morning after the other ships left, a bright beam of light, brighter than any light on Earth, except for the sun itself speared down to Earth, illuminating a five mile circle of all encompassing light. Humans within the beam, stopped moving and only those at the fringe of the beam could see what was happening within.
The aliens floated slowly and majestically to the surface of the planet and began to create a space filled with deciding non-terrestrial plants. Many of them moved, swaying to an unheard music, tentacles whipping about, and occassionally squirting a strange and noxious fluid that dissolved anything it came in contact with. Several humans, who were frozen nearby disintegrated in a pink mist as they exploded from contact with the plant venom.
The military watched from the fringe of the light barrier after several of their missiles failed to penetrate it and fell to Earth, unmoving but still quite active. After destroying several blocks of Manhattan with cruise missiles that fell far short of the target, the Navy resorted to 20 mm guns. They too, flew unerringly to the target until they reached the barrier then they promptly exploded scattering shrapnel everyone on the outside of the light shield. Dozens of people were unfortunately killed.
The president decided that he would tell the military to stand down before they killed any more New Yorkers by getting the idea that a nuclear strike would be a good option to try next. Since the military could not destroy the aliens, they were forced to watch and record. Cameras were pointed into the field only to find out, once they were turned on, they did not record anything inside it.
Then artists were given binoculars and told to paint, draw, create images of the aliens as detailed as possible. Each artist did their best to create an image as true to the aliens as they could. When the military later compared all of their drawings, each one was as different as could be. Not a single image resembled any of the creatures and none of the images resembled each other. None of the artists seem to think this was strange or out of place. What most people saw were suits of armor that seemed to be made of a metal that absorbed light. They were matt black in appearance and only small lights could be made out on the fronts and backs of the suits. Each suit carried a staff-like object which seemed to function as a multi-tool. They could destroy matter or recreate matter with the same tool.
Unable to record effectively, the military was forced to use trained observers to try and remember every possible detail they could. They would of course find out a few days later, most of those observers would remember a picnic or birthday party or some other event they enjoyed and would not be able to be convinced otherwise they were not reporting anything useful to their commanding officers. It took two days for the alien table, chairs, exotic plants and force field generators to be ready.
The President of the United States sat in his office and talked to me, an anthropologist by trade, what I though the aliens wanted. I was about to answer that question when there was a flash of light and we were both transported, along with two Secret Service agents to the center of the alien sitting area. Seconds later, every leader of every major population group on the planet began to appear, rapidly filling the entire space the aliens had created.
Food, appeared as mysteriously as we did and I decided to sit down and eat one of the apples, golden in color, from the table. It was the most amazing thing I had ever eaten. The Secret Service agents shook their heads while I tasted the apple. I assume they thought I was taking a considerable risk, but I did not think so. If they wanted to kill us, they did not have to teleport us here to do it. They could have, just as easily destroyed us in transit, or teleported a bomb to our office. Besides, the President was a cheapskate, he did not even spring for a lunch before out meeting and I was starving.
I offered the President a bite, but he look incredulously at me, so I kept eating. Once everyone had settled down, the alien plants moved up behind us and stood quietly.
"People and leaders of Earth. We are the Warlords of Hurumpharump and we are here to conquer your planet. In an effort to be civilized, we have sent away our fleet and left a single vessel over your major metropolis, New York. This was done to let you know, we do not consider you a threat in any way and it would be best for all of us, if your people surrender peacefully and become servants to our House."
The alien voice did not appear to emanate from any particular alien. They had all stopped moving once the speaking took place and stood quietly in their black battlesuits. Did I mention they were nearly fifteen feet tall? From a distance, without something to scale them against, it was quite a shock to be looking up at the terrifying image of an extraterrestrial with ideas of conquest you have to actually look up at. The alien voice continued.
"As our servants, you will enjoy lives of productive work, rather than going to offices and shuffling piles of paper from copier to closet. Why bother pretending to be working on financial derivatives when you know you would rather be working in the fields, producing Triliaifid for our armies. Once you learn how to train them and control them, you will be excellent Triliaifid harvesters. We do not expect to lose more than fifty percent of your entire species in the first year. As you grow more experienced, that number will diminish significantly and by year five, your population will begin to stabilize and return to positive numbers."
All of the faces around the table looked shocked and unbelieving at what they were hearing. Fifty percent of the population in a single year? The cheap President, Walter Fox, stood up and adjusted his tie before speaking. "Walter Fox, Republican, President of the United States, the most powerful nation on Earth. I greet you in the name of our gathered coalition of friends from all over the globe."
His voice seemed to carry to everyone sitting around the courtyard and several weak smiles returned to faces, as his familiar voice and oratory speech patterns returned order to the world. For a moment, even my head had stopped spinning and I was beginning to feel hopeful, some kind of other resolution would be reached.
"We are aware of who you are President Fox. Please sit down. Your species lacks the proper ability to resist us and by the standards of the Galactic Treaties of Confederation, your world now belongs to us, by right of Conquest."
By right of Conquest. Hmmm. I had an idea. But I remember my mother saying better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission. I stood up, adjusted my tie and horn-rimmed glasses and proceeded to make a statement that would affect the lives of billions. No pressure. "Excuse me, great Warlords of Hurumpharump (I have an ear for language, so I added the proper juicy inflection. I had to pass the President my pocket hankerchief afterward.) masters of the Triliaifid and possible rulers of Earth, I would ask if there are any rules of conflict or engagement that might stipulate how combat between our species should be fought?"
The Hurumpharump turned toward each other and then walked away from their positions behind the table to huddle together. The President looked up at me after wiping his jacket but before he could speak, the Hurumpharump answered.
"The Codex of War says we have the option of engaging in any contest we deem an effective display of strength. We studied your planet for weeks and determined your military effectiveness could not prevent us from dominating your world."
"Surely, such an advanced species would not consider it to be civilized to simply destroy a species without offering them a sporting chance to engage in a form of combat where true prowess could be determined."
They huddled again.
"Continue your proposal."
"I propose we engage in a physical contest where technology is not a factor, allowing us both to see the other and relate as equals. If you are going to dominate us, it would be better if we knew that no matter the circumstances you would be superior to us. Otherwise, as a species, we will simply rebel and rebel again."
"This is reasonable. Name your contest."
Looking out over the area, I realized we were in a park with a recreation center nearby. Then the idea struck me and I knew in my gut, it was the right choice.
"Baseball. The contest is nine innings of baseball."
#
"Are you out of your mind, Doctor? Did you agree to risk the entire human race on a game of baseball?"
"I don't see the problem, Mr. President, the Hurumpharump agreed to play and would not wear their battle-armors. They only required a month to learn to play the game. They were certain their physical superiority would be enough to learn to play well enough to beat us. Frankly, it seemed better than depending on the military to win a contest with them. We can't even take a picture of them unless they want us to. Were you really depending on the military to win? Mr. President, I understand the risks, but at least this way we get one shot at not becoming a harvesting world of Triliaifid spores where half the human race dies on the job."
"How do you know they will keep their word?"
"President Fox, your politician is showing again. These are not politicians, they are warriors. They do not lie to an enemy they do not have to. These creatures are beings of honor. I may not know much about them, but I do know this, they will keep their word. They never had to give it in the first place, so it must have value to their culture."
As I left the office, I turned to the President to say, "I trust you will keep your political interests out of your negotiations, sir. If they discover you might tell a lie, they may be inclined to kill you when they discover it. I would go with open honest discourse whenever you deal with them. I know you are a politician, so it might be a stretch for you. Do your best."
"Where will you be, Doctor, in case I need you?"
"With them, of course."
#
The Hurumpharump had a few conditions. They would be given access to a trainer or coach well versed in the game. As a matter of fact, they wanted the best the Earth had to offer. In addition, they wanted us to put up a stake to ensure we would give them the best training possible. They decided we would surrender every major league baseball player over the age of eighteen as a collateral.
The only team that would be exempt would be team they play against. If that team won, they would be allowed to retain their lives. If they lost, their lives were forfeit, and the Hurumpharump would rule the Earth for one thousand Earth years or five hundred birth cycles of the Triliaifid, whichever came first. Occasionally, a particularly fecund planet might alter they cycle, allowing them to reproduce even faster than normal. This has a slight effect on the handler's population but the benefits outweigh the risk.
Coach David Reynold's, who at the time was the coach of the World Series Champions, the San Francisco Giants, was chosen to represent the Hurumpharump team. Earth's all-star team would be coached by the Coach of the New York Mets, Nevil Maynard. The all-stars were chosen from teams all over the Earth and for the next thirty days, they would be training harder than ever. The game would be held in Yankee Stadium in New York and would be simulcast all over the world in real time.
The Hurumpharump desired to train in Florida, because without their suits, they preferred the heat and humidity. Fortunately for them (and I guess for us) it was summer in New York, so it was likely to be hot and humid during the game. It was to be held August 30.
To reduce issues of coordination, every baseball player on Earth was teleported to the light field and the all-stars were chosen from their number. Once a team was chosen, nine players and nine alternates, and three pitchers, the team was teleported to a secure location to begin their practice. They would be fed, trained and cared for, but would not be allowed to see, or interact with anyone until the game.
Coach Reynolds and myself as well as a team of seven alternative trainers would also be on hand to assist the Hurumpharump during their development. Once we gave them the specification for a baseball field, physical dimensions, physical makeup, cage, stadium and specifications they recreated one on their ship, seconds before we arrived in it, so I am told.
It was Yankee Stadium in every way (except there was no gum under the seats and no one hawking and spilling beer on me while I watched). When the Hurumpharump teleported us all to their field, they opened their suits of armor by running their hands down an invisible seam in the front and the suit peeled away showing a semi-organic, semi-machine based device/organism. Oh I wanted to be able to take a picture but I satisfied myself with attempting to memorize everything and hoped they would allow me to take my memories home with me. We were told once everything had been established, this field would be transported to an area in Florida, temporarily so they could enjoy the heat and humidity there.
When their suits opened, the smell was horrible, almost as if something had crawled into their suits and died. They were pastel colored and no two possessed exactly the same hues, shades or color patterns. Some shared certain color characteristics but I could not be sure what the riot of colors meant. Each possessed excellent muscle tone and a shimmering scale-like skin. Their eyes were large and had multicolored iris-like fields, super responsive pupils and multiple eyelids, both an inner and an outer one.
Their bodies were bilaterally similar and relatively evenly proportioned. Without their suits, they were still six to seven feet tall and all had very well developed teeth. Judging from the size of their craniums, they had a very good brain to body ratio, slightly better than ours, so they are at least as intelligent as we are. I would only know more if I had the option to observe their brains in action. I would have to enjoy what I learned without the benefit of hands on study at this time.
Once out of their suits, they were immediately rubbed with an unguent of some kind by what turned out to be servants of another species. The servants were some sort of insectovoid. They move swiftly, scraping away the ichor that came from within their suits and generously slathering on this much better smelling agent. Even without their armor, the Hurumpharump still maintained an aura of unmistakable power.
They were correct. With their physical aptitude, they were naturals for the game of baseball. With two noted issues. When we first introduced them to the bat, they were very excited. They had no directly equivalent word, and the best they could do was "bludgeon" and we let it go for the sake of expediency. When we introduced the bat, they were extremely excited, one of the first showing of any emotional state other than what would appear to be boredom. The took the bat, passed it around, hefted it, marveled at its weight, swung a few times and nodded approvingly.
I had to ask. "What are you all so happy about?"
He (I think it was a he, they all looked the same and accepted the pronoun without comment) waved the bludgeon in the air and said, "Finally a weapon, we were unsure about this idea until now. Will we all be issued a bludgeon or will we have to share it during the struggle for dominance." At that point, the other Hurumpharump made noises I equate with chimpanzees and dominance activity as they crowded around the bat wielder.
"No, no. While it is true, you will be using the, uh, bludgeon, you will not be using on the other team. You will be using it to strike the ball." Puzzled looks followed. At this time, we began to show them videos of the game and they were fascinated and intrigued. We left them alone with dozens of recordings for three days. When we were allowed to return, they had already separated into training teams and had begun attempting to play.
Which brings me to the second issue. Pitching. The Hurumpharump while physically powerful seemed to have an inherent issue with their throwing skills. They could throw reasonably well, that was not the problem. It was a issue of degree. Those that could throw accurately and with some degree of precision, were not very powerful. Those who were powerful, could not guarantee any degree of precision beyond a very general degree. While the coach was unhappy to discover this weakness, he had seen it in players before and continued to push them to overcome it. The Hurumpharump refused to use gloves and did not seemed hindered by the sting of the ball in any way. We offered to show them how to use them, but they did not seem to understand the point.
With this disability in mind, the inaccurate throwers became outfielders, and the accurate became pitchers and infielders, inelegant, but necessary. Ofter overcoming their disappointment for not getting to club anyone during the course of the game, the Hurumpharump became excellent players despite their throwing handicap. And they would be quite a surprise to our human team in one other amazing attribute.
We did not communicate often with the human team, but reports said they were in good spirits and confident of their ability to win easily. I read those reports with trepidation and hoped they would not be overconfident.
When the day of the game arrived, the Hurumpharump teleported both teams to the real Yankee Stadium and the stadium was filled with spectators who were allowed to enter the stadium at will. The stadium was packed with humans, wearing all kinds of baseball paraphernalia cheering their respective heroes on. Food was passed out, drinks were dispensed and no money changed hands. I think it was decided if the end of the world was coming, everyone should be full and perhaps a bit intoxicated. The president and his contingent as well as those world leaders who had not returned home, had an entire box area to themselves and they were adjacent to the insectovoid servants of the Hurumpharump of which there were forty or so who appeared for the game. Before the game started, the insectovoids came out to the field and groomed the Hurumpharump and provided them with uniforms with numbers. After slathering them with the unguent, they were dressed and they awaited the National Anthem.
We were surprised to find out the Hurumpharump wanted to sing the National Anthem, in English, no less. It was evident he had practiced for some time, because he sang without the translator we were so used to hearing. His accent was thick but passable and he did not embarrass himself as much as many celebrities had in the past. The song resonated with the audience and at the end, they cheered his efforts and applauded mightily. He looked puzzled and turned to me. I made the sign of approval I had seen them show each other and he appeared to be satisfied and returned to the dugout.
"Play Ball," the umpire shouted to herald in the most important game in human existence.
The Hurumpharump started the inning and when the first pitch was thrown, it was a fastball, low and outside. The Hurumpharump, number 13, seemed to be a statue until a split second before the ball crossed the plate. Then his bat was a blur of motion. It moved so fast no one could even see it. The ball disappeared in a cloud of dust as it flew down the right field line and disapeared out of field, and continued out of the stadium. The only words spoken were "take your bases, sir." And the score was one-zip. The Hurumpharump repeated this for fifteen home runs before their side was retired. After the fourth or fifth one, the stadium was as quiet as the grave. Humanity breathed a sigh of relief when their side was retired.
When the first human came to bat, a Darrell Mayers, from the Philadelphia Phillies, the crowd went wild and I found myself, caught up in the infectious energy. He tapped his shoes, smiled, pointed out into right field and stood over the plate. The pitcher watched the signs from the catcher, shook two off and then nodded. His pitch was a fastball at a whopping seventy seven miles per hour. Respectable from a Hurumpharump but nothing compared to what Mayers was used to hitting. He drove it from the stadium as if it was lobbed underhand. And the game was on.
Nine innings later, the game was remarkable for several reasons. It was the highest scoring baseball game in history, not because it was not played well. Each team did remarkably well once they adapted to the style of play of the other. When the ball was kept in the stadium, there was some of the best baseball anyone had ever seen. Spectacular plays, incredible throws, steals, I forgot to mention how fast the Hurumpharump were stealing bases; baseball had never looked so good. In the beginning, the crowd gave no love to the Hurumpharump but by the fifth inning after a spectacular triple play against the humans to retire the side, the crowd cheered the sheer beauty of the game. And soon, both teams were being cheered and for just a moment, you were able to forget the fate of the world hung in the balance. During the seventh inning stretch people got up for a moment and walked but no one left. Even the sportscasters were excited about the game.
The Hurumpharump added three runs to their total as their turn at bat ended, with the score being 157 to 154. It was possible for humanity to win and Coach Reynolds called a time out to change his pitcher. During this time, President Fox chose to come out to the dugout and he had to pass the Hurumpharump dugout. The insectovoids had chosen to come out and apply their healing unguent to the team and were bustling about the dugout as the president and his security detail passed by. President Fox shoved his way past one of the insectovoids and continued without even acknowledging the event.
The roar of the crowd was defining and the President had to yell to be heard. "Gentlemen, I have never been as proud of this game as I am today. I want it to be known, no matter what happens, you have been exceptional today. But I want to take this moment to remind you, the fate of our species lies in your hands. You are a team comprised of the finest our world has to offer. I want you to do your absolute best in this final inning."
Coach Reynolds finished out on the mound and the President and his team rushed back to their box. The insectovoids returned a few moments later and the game reconvened. The new pitcher was one a Hurumpharump, number 6, who had been held in reserve until now. I remembered why. He was one of the few who had been able to pitch with both control and power. Coach Reynold had been true to his word. He would do whatever it took to win. It did not matter to the crowd though, they were cheering maniacally as he took the mound.
Bu Tao, of China, came to the plate and after having innings of easy hits was surprised at the speed and power of Number 6's pitches. Stepping into a more controlled crouch, he concentrates and gets a chip into left field and makes it to first. Number 6 is unaffected and takes the next batter in three swings. One out. The next batter is a giant from the Dominican Republic, Fernando Ayala, and he is easily one of the best hitters in the world. The stadium quiets down after the easy out of the last batter.
The first pitch was a rocket and is outside. The second is a curve and inside. Ayala, swings on the next pitch and misses, 2 and 1. Ayala grins and the Hurumpharump shows its teeth in challenge. The next pitch was perfect and Ayala swings and breaks his bat for a double. The outfielder, number 12, rushed hit, and had a cannon for an arm. He made the throw to home to keep Bu Tao, from scoring Men on second and third, one out.
Music blaring, crowd singing, people cheering, even the insectovoids, who until the very last few innings has sat impassively seemed agitated, their antenna waving and their second pair of hands drumming out a strange cadence in counterpoint to the music, complementary and rhythmically pleasing. No game had ever caught the attention, the crowds, the adulation this game had. It was later reported, this frenzy had caught on all over the world. If you could see the game, you were swept up in it.
David Matthews, number 42 of the Mets, came to bat and Number 6 had been briefed on the team and knew he was the best hitter with the sharpest eye. So he walked him, counting on their superior infield to take the double play against the next far weaker hitter.
Matthews took his base, visibly angered. Number 6 showed no emotion as he awaited the next batter. The next batter was from the Netherlands, Number 14, Dave Rajier. He was a good fielder and chosen because of his skill in the outfield. He was a passingly good hitter, batting .273, but no one wanted him to be hitting right now. Too much was at stake. Rajier, came to the plate, tipped his hat to the crowd, and stood ready.
The two, Rajier and number 6 filled the count, three balls and two strikes, each working their skills and the battle came down to their indomitable wills. The next pitch would decide it. Number 6 turned the catcher down 4 times before deciding. Rajier squinted, gripped and swung, hard. There was solid contact and the ball flew high into left field. Number 11, a Hurumpharump known for his leaping ability tracked it and ran toward the wall. He leaped and everyone held their breath. The ball was just shy of his fingers by about an inch. The same inch would have been successfully covered by a glove, had he been using one. Grand Slam, home run. The humans had won the game!
People cheered, music played, and everyone roared as the game came to an end. Both teams seemed exceptionally excited and ran out onto the field to hug and congratulate each other. I approached the Hurumpharump who in their excitement hugged me closely and I squeaked so that he might let me go. He was powerful but gentle and placed me back on the ground.
The cheering continued for some time and then a pleasant chime sounded and all of the stadium music subsided. "People of Earth, when we first agreed to engage in this challenge, we were certain we would be able to win. Our generations of battle experience and breeding made us believe the outcome was never in doubt. But instead, your people have proven to be resilient warriors and impeccable instructors, who taught with honor and patience. They gave completely to our players guidance in all aspects of the game and as a result, their performance was exemplary, wouldn't all agree?"
The crowd roared with enthusiasm, forgetting any sense of decorum, giddy with the win.
"It gives us great pleasure to announce we will not be using your planet as a breeding ground for the Triliaifid. We have found your species to be more developed in some ways than our own. We will instead consult with your world on more of these "games" as you call them. On our worlds, there are no contests that do not end in death, so this is a novel concept for us. In return, we shall spare your world and help guide you into the galaxy as a member of the Confederation. We will, of course, be removing weapons from your world to ensure that you do not destroy yourselves before we can experience all of your games. Your games will become the currency you will buy your way into the galactic community."
President Fox, finding his way to a microphone was incensed. "Who are you to come to our planet and dictate our social policy regarding weapons or any other state policy. The United States is a sovereign nation..."
"Enough, President Fox." The President reappeared in a flash of light in the center of the stadium surrounded by the Triliaifid and Hurumpharump in black armors. "You are no longer in a position to dictate anything on this planet. Your second in command, a Vice President Davis will be assuming control of your United States. You will be tried and likely found guilty of assaulting a higher life form in the performance of its duties."
"What do you mean, I don't remember assaulting anyone?"
A holographic image is displaying showing the President shoving his way past the insectovoid grooming a Hurumpharump.
"And? They are just servants. Who cares about servants?"
"Your crime Mr. President is the lack of manners and respect due any lifeform. You and your line will be punished directed to tend Triliaifid at our next training facility. You will be returned at the end of a ten year sentence, should you and your survive."
The insectovoids turn and wave and the Hurumpharump battle armors escort the former President into the beam.
Number 6 turns to me and places his hand upon my shoulder. "They are not the servants. We are."
"Bludgeon" © Thaddeus Howze 2011. All Rights Reserved
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