John's Perspective
My heart was pounding, and I could feel the itch in my trigger finger as the not-statue spoke with the diplomatic leaders. I was on edge; every muscle in my body tensed. The sword on the table didn't help matters. I nearly lost control when the alien took it out and started shooting immediately.
When it finally got up and announced that it was leaving for "the night," I didn't take my eyes off it. I watched its every move until it left the room, and only then did I allow myself to exhale.
With the communications restored, I wondered if I could contact Earth? Mr. Torres seemed to have no trouble reaching Earth within a few tries. I dialed into the channel for the command team from the rocket. "Tin man said that the communications were open to Earth. Can you confirm?" I asked.
The response came through the radio. "Confirmed. Would you like us to try to patch you through to someone? We can prioritize your request at the top of the list as head of a team."
I didn't hesitate. "Yes, please," I said, my voice firm. "Send the security director a message. I would like to ask him about my dog Heimdall, that he's been puppy-sitting. Bet his eyes and ears are on high alert like always."
The response came quickly, professional, and to the point. "Acknowledged, stand by."
The code was subtle. I even adopted a couple of dogs and named them various deities if the aliens were monitoring us to give an excuse to use different codes.
I waited, chewing over what the not-statue said about its desire for either peace or parallel life. I wasn't naive enough to think he said the whole truth. But we definitely didn't stand a ghost of a chance against them. I needed to make sure my boss and his boss knew not to do anything stupid.
The radio crackled, and the operator's voice came through, crisp and clear. "Stand by for patching through."
Before I could even say thank you, I heard my boss's voice. "Heimdall is doing good. He's been happy to stay away from Shiva. I'm not sure how you keep all these puppies under control," he said, his voice tinged with amusement and concern.
I sighed, understanding the message. He was asking if we could wipe out the aliens. My mind raced as I tried to find the right words, knowing that our conversation was likely being monitored.
"Shiva, thankfully, is peaceful and calm. I'm surprised for her breed, but it's good. I'm happy she and Heimdall are getting along," I replied nonchalantly. Internally, I prayed he would understand and pass along the warning to whoever had the final say.
After a second, he responded, his voice thoughtful, "Yeah, that's true because it's hard enough to puppy wrangle. The coyotes have been coming close to the yard lately. I hope they stay away from the doggies." He was asking about the power difference, using the benchmark of dogs vs coyotes.
How do I communicate the difference and make sure it sticks? I thought, the gears of my mind melting from spinning too fast. The analogy was clear, but the stakes were high, and I needed to be sure that my message was understood.
"Well, coyotes would be problematic, but I'm sure the numbers of the puppies alone would be fine," I began, choosing my words carefully. "What I'm worried about are the fire ants in Texas. They can bite and hurt the puppies bad. I'm sure you can take care of the ants easily enough, but the puppies might have some trouble with getting bitt. I don't want to come home to vet bills, so if you could make sure to poison all the ant hills in your yard. That should be easy enough for you."
I listened to the silence on the other end of the line as my boss processed my words. The fire ants were a perfect metaphor for humanity, small and seemingly insignificant but capable of causing great harm if not handled with care. But humans could pour water in the next second and destroy it. We were the ants to the aliens.
