Free The Trojan Horse by Christopher Nuttall

hungry in countries that owed much of their misfortunes to their own governments.  Very few of the NGOs had succeeded in having a lasting effect; they didn’t understand the locals, they didn’t realise that their interventions could have negative effects as well as positive – and they often made their plans without any awareness of local realities.  The thought that Earth might be a Third World state by Galactic standards shocked him, although some of the alien comments were alarmingly valid.  One of the many scenarios they’d discussed for disaster had been an asteroid impact.  No one had any faith in NASA’s ability to deflect an asteroid from Earth.
     
    He watched as the aliens turned and left the chamber, allowing CNN to switch to yet another of its endless stable of talking heads.  They’d been interviewing experts ever since the alien starships had been detected, experts who often knew little more than the interviewers.  The Colonel suspected that they would have no trouble finding experts to confirm or deny the alien claims, depending upon their ideological backgrounds.  It was easy to see how vested interests might manipulate the data to ensure that it supported their conclusions, suggesting a universal trait of the human race.  What was the truth when vast amounts of money were at stake?
     
    “Well,” he said, finally.  “That’s us told.”
     
    The sitting room was packed, loaded with his friends, family and workers.  They’d all watched the show, not daring to speak for fear that they might miss something.  On the screen, a talking head was discussing the dangers of global warming, something the Colonel knew to have been disproved scientifically – a fact that escaped the governments meddlers who thought that a degree and a lofty title allowed them to dictate to America’s farmers.  In fact, the Earth was actually getting slightly cooler , a point that portended other global changes.  The aliens had been right to point out, in effect, that the human race had all of its eggs in one basket.  A single worldwide disaster could exterminate the human race.
     
    He stood up.  There would be time to return to the television – or the computer – later.  For the moment, he needed time to digest what he’d seen and try to think of what it meant for him personally.  At least the aliens hadn’t launched an immediate attack on Earth; he’d once watched Mars Attacks with Mary and the seemingly-psychotic aliens had declared war by slaughtering the Senate.  The cynic in him told the Colonel that they’d probably aided the human war effort.  It seemed that there would be no immediate disaster from space.
     
    “Time to get back to work,” he said.  The small collection of food could be cleared up later, once they’d dealt with the endless series of chores that had to be done on the farm.  “We can talk about it at teatime.”
     
    With that, he walked out of the door and onto the farm.  There was much work to be done.
     
    ***
    Jeannette McGreevy, ever since she had grown old enough to understand what politics actually was, had been consumed with a single thought.  She would be President one day.  It had been an ambition actually encouraged by her father and her grandfather, who had served in politics for so long that the clan could no longer consider a life outside Washington.  They might not be as famous as the Kennedy Family, or the Bush Family, or even the Clinton Family, but that worked in her favour.  The family had far fewer skeletons in its closet than any of the more famous clans, something that had helped ensure that only the Bush Family could boast two Presidents in their line.   Jeannette intended to be the first of her clan to sit in the Oval Office and be addressed as Madam President.
     
    She smiled to herself as she walked towards the alien chambers.  Her appearance had been – like everything else – carefully calculated for maximum effect.  She wore a