Carter watched for another moment, until the screen started to show repeats of the same pictures. His gaze fell on the body of the baby Zelo, its silver armour—not armour, not yet, more like scales—dulling as the body stiffened.
He turned and pushed open the door to the car park, welcoming the air on his face. The Zelotyr were gone. It was a good thing; the best thing. He tried to regain the excitement, but it felt like icy tentacles were reaching into his stomach.
“Sir?” asked Sanderson, behind him. “Are you okay?” His voice changed, took on an edge of a sneer. “Aren’t you pleased? Earth is free.”
“Is it?” Carter stared at the housing estate opposite. What happened when the residents found out? Or the Barath’na? The second alien race had tried to force the Zelo off the planet when Earthlings were declared sentient. It was one of the reasons the Zelo had started to work in partnership with Earth, to appease the GC and allow them to stay. Carter hadn’t met a Barath’na, but the Zelotyr enmity to them had been openly evident. Whether it was long-standing racial hatred or based on truth, he’d prefer not to find out. He remembered the horror of the Zelotyr attack, the smart mines—there were some still scattered around the city, waiting for poor sods to get close enough to set them off—destroying the city. The last thing they needed was another lot of aliens deciding to try their luck.
Or, for that matter, the first set wanting revenge. His blood chilled; the Zelotyr didn’t have to be on the ground to attack. Last time, the first waves of bombs had come from space.
“Don’t you see?” he said to Sanderson. “We need to find whoever has done this, before it causes another war…”
Sanderson cleared his throat. "About that, sir." He nodded at the station’s barred gate. "You might want to hang around—they’ve lifted a couple of lads."
At the sound of a door closing, Carter turned to face the army sergeant, Peters, who’d brought the two bedraggled lads in. One was sitting in the interview room next door, looking fairly stunned. Carter crossed his arms and leaned against the observation window which dominated the small room. “Well? Ours or yours?”
"Yours." Peters dumped his paperwork on the table in the centre of the room. “It lies under police jurisdiction.” He set a clear bag on the table, and pointed at it. “We thought they were drug running at first.” He lit a cigarette, making Carter cough.
“There’s a smoking ban, you know,” he said.
Peters gave a short laugh. “You want to arrest me?” He leaned back and blew a series of perfect smoke rings at the ceiling. “You know what’s happened to the Zelo. In fact, you probably know more than I do; you’re the shit-lover, right?”
Carter took a deep breath, trying to hide his annoyance. “If you mean I’m the Zelotyr liaison, then yes.”
"Whatever." Peters nodded at the window. "We’re waiting for forensics to confirm what was in that tin, but I’d put money on it being the virus.”
“That’s a hell of a jump—from drug running to xenocide?” Carter turned to the observation window. The lad was sitting on a wooden seat, arms on the table in front, chin resting on them. He looked young, maybe about fifteen, his hair long, falling into his eyes. “He’s just another street kid.”
“You didn’t see his face when he heard the Zelo were dying. Or how sick his friend is. He told us the other lad ingested whatever they released, and he’s ill. Really ill. It doesn’t take a genius to make the link.” Peters walked across, his footsteps loud in the empty room. “Any idea who’ll be behind it?”
“Not him.” Carter thought for a moment. “Locally, there’re a couple of possibilities. When we get confirmation from forensics and know what we’re looking at, I’ll get someone on to it.”
Peters threw down his cigarette, grinding it out, and Carter glared at him. The sergeant ignored him, crossing his arms, muscles standing out against his black t-shirt.
“What will happen to them, if they did release it?” he asked. “I was told you knew the Zelotyr better than anyone.”
Carter walked back to the desk and picked up the custody form, checking the details. “Hard to know for sure; they’re odd, the Zelotyr.”
“We noticed.”
Carter signed the sheet, separated the duplicate, and checked the report of the arrest. “A year ago, I was with an army captain—a guy called Nugent. We were cornered by a pack of Zelo teenagers.”
“I heard. He got killed, they say. Eviscerated.”
The sergeant’s voice was clipped, and Carter looked down, studiously reading. “Yes, it was…it wasn’t quick.” He swallowed bile at the memory. “When an adult Zelo came across what was happening, he let me go. He didn’t support the killing; it went against their culture.” And yet the Zelo had descended on Earth, unleashing an attack across the world that had killed millions. “The problem is, what happens to the lads, if you’re right, isn’t just Earth’s decision. You know why the Zelo came here, right?”
“The three bears’ porridge was good for their babies…”
“Yep. Their planet’s overheating—they can’t breed on it. Earth matched what they needed.”
“It’s our planet.” Peters frowned. “Just because their technology is a bit more advanced than ours—”
Carter snorted. “A bit? We’ve managed to get a couple of probes into space, walked on our satellite; they have faster-than-light technology, and weaponry that could blow Earth out of space. I call that more than a bit.”
“So?”
“So, they were working with us. Rathcoole, for instance: they funded all the new housing.” Carter ducked his head, not able to meet yet another stare branding him a conspirator when it was the only way to save the little people. Lads like the one in the room next door, abandoned in the ruins of a dying city. “Look, I know what everyone thinks of me, I’m not stupid. Or deaf…But, we’re wrong about the Zelo. They made a mistake on Earth and they’re committed to rectifying it.”
“A few billion deaths is more than a mistake,” spat Peters.
He was right: it was a fucking tragedy. But so was a few billion more. Carter set the report down and rubbed his forehead. God, he was tired. “I don’t believe they knew we were sentient.” Unless the aliens had completely duped him, of course. “In fact, I think since they found out, they’ve been trying to atone for their sins. They are unbelievably moral, in their own way—”
“What’s moral about destroying a planet?” The soldier started to pace. He pulled another cigarette out. “What’s moral about killing kids and families who were in the way of where you wanted to put hatchlings?”
“Nothing.” Carter pushed his hair back. “Nothing at all. And they would agree with you. That’s why their technology is running our hospitals. That’s why they provided the transports and weaponry you need to do your work. Without them, Earth will take decades longer to rebuild.”
Peters shook his head in disgust, and pulled the papers to him. “Right, which copy is mine?” He took the lid off his pen, his movements jerky and angry.
“I’m not defending them,” Carter said, frustration creeping into his voice. “Christ, of all people I’m not going to do that. What they did to Nugent….” He wiped his mouth. “I think we can say I’m no lover of the Zelotyr.”
Peters shrugged, and Carter wanted to tell him that every night he’d gone home from working with the aliens and scrubbed himself in the shower, only the belief he was doing the right thing getting him up each morning. Instead he said, “In another couple of weeks, this lad would have been off the streets before the winter set in. We’d have pulled Belfast back from the brink.”