We had only a short distance left to go when, through the side window, I saw a group of people in business suits escorting and guarding six small beings-barely taller than my elbow.

  The beings wore tightly fitted suits without helmets. Their heads were slightly oversized for their frail bodies, and their eyes-black, glossy-were five times larger than a human’s. The Grays. Their skin truly was a dull, tedious gray, like a sidewalk at high noon. Hence the name. And, of course, because science fiction books and films had portrayed extraterrestrials as “little gray men” since time immemorial.

  When they were suddenly discovered-so close to Earth-well, as they say, *all hell broke loose*.

  It happened when I had just been born, about thirty years ago, maybe a little more. An automated reconnaissance vessel-one of those meant to pave the way for colonists to Mars-detected a moving metallic object in the asteroid belt. Naturally, everyone involved grew agitated. For nearly a week, eggheaded intellectuals aimed telescopes, adjusted trajectories, made other necessary but cautious maneuvers, altering the scout ship’s course and guiding it toward the metallic object.

  When that object turned out to be a fully functioning Gray vessel-and, before a stunned audience, ignited its maneuvering thrusters and headed toward the next chunk of rock-some people wet themselves. Some with excitement. Some with fear that alien life was here, close by, and possibly hostile. Others wondered why sums with so many zeros had been spent for decades on radars and telescopes if an alien civilization had been missed right under our noses.

  In any case, while the scout circled the alien ship, observing it deploy drones that shattered nearby rocks and collected what were presumably ores, everything that could fly launched from Earth. Everyone wanted to be first. New ships were constructed in frantic haste-larger, faster. Even the riskiest projects were greenlit. The new technologies our celestial neighbors might share-or that we might seize-were worth any wager.

  Religious fanatics, who weren’t sabotaging launches, hurried most of all. Church and community treasuries were emptied to build or rent new arks. Not only fraudsters of every stripe, but genuine scientists and engineers made fortunes.

  The automated ship that first spotted the aliens was grandly-and somewhat absurdly-named the *Ambassador*.

  Roughly a month later, the first expedition, launched from Earth orbit in desperate haste, approached the *Ambassador*. Throughout that month, the *Ambassador* conserved fuel and battery power, surveyed the asteroid belt, continuously observed the Grays-no one yet knew they were the Grays-and attempted to establish contact.

  It detected two more similar ships, moving from rock to rock with the methodical precision of bees, breaking them apart and collecting debris. The frenzy intensified. Tabloids wrote that the Pentagon, the Freemasons, the Russians, the Chinese, and the Indians had secretly launched enormous ships into the asteroid belt to board the aliens and claim all the valuables first.

  It never occurred to anyone that secretly launching a massive ship from Earth is about as easy as silently passing gas in an elevator.

  Though in later missions there were indeed people with special assignments and special equipment.

  Skipping over the years of hysteria, fakes, speculation, and gossip, reality turned out to be both dull and shocking.

  The Grays breathed air almost indistinguishable from Earth’s. Inside their ships was an atmosphere with pressure and composition suitable for human life. They also had males and females.

  That was where the good and comprehensible news ended.

  No contact could be established with them on any radio frequency. Their ships didn’t appear to communicate with one another; they functioned independently, as if following pre-programmed routines. Eleven Gray ships were found busily operating in the asteroid belt. Two more were moving slowly in the direction of Mars. One was discovered hovering over the far side of the Moon.

  It turned out there were two additional Gray bases embedded in the lunar regolith.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Although one could enter any ship-or even a base-through a small airlock without difficulty, this ultimately yielded no significant results. As it was discovered, Gray technology did not surpass Earth’s by much. In some areas, it even lagged behind.

  All their ships were divided internally into three levels. In every case, humans managed to penetrate only the middle one, where the airlock was located. Inside was what could be called a hall-a large empty chamber with several automatic doors. There was nothing there but metal floors, metal walls, and light panels on the ceiling. No tables, no seating, no consoles, no defensive devices-nothing.

  From time to time, Grays would walk through the hall, ignoring the uninvited guests. There were no inscriptions or signs on the walls, nor identifying marks on the Grays’ clothing.

  The first visitors to the alien vessels nearly fainted with delight. Later, confusion-and even disappointment-set in.

  The Grays made no contact. They did not want to speak, nor even to listen. If addressed or blocked, they silently continued about their business, stepping around intrusive visitors and disappearing behind instantly closing hatches. If restrained, they stood passively, staring ahead; once released, they resumed their route.

  Most frustrating of all, no one managed to get beyond the first metallic wall-call it a bulkhead if you prefer-inside the ships or bases. If a human tried to pass through together with a Gray, the automatic hatches simply refused to open. No one managed to trick the peculiar recognition system, nor to jam the doors effectively.

  Religious zealots, shamans, and mystics who reached the ships conducted ceremonies, delivered speeches to the Grays, meditated, attempted telepathic communication. But aside from unverified rumors and anecdotes, there was not a single confirmed case of a Gray initiating contact with a human.

  Another disappointing fact: the materials from which these gaudy mining vessels were constructed were merely alternatives, not superior to Earth’s metals and polymers. A dark murmur spread among scientists, reflecting the depth of their bewilderment. The technological leap so many science fiction writers had promised simply did not happen.

  No miracle engines. No cosmic enlightenment. Just mining ships and silence.

  Hopes for revolutionary propulsion systems likewise dissolved after repeated recordings by research vessels and automated probes revealed them to be cleverly enhanced versions of ordinary ion drives-drives Earthlings had hesitated to use for years due to purely theoretical concerns.

  No doubt, filled with its own grandeur at the realization that the first extraterrestrial intelligent race was no more advanced-and was, moreover, reclusive. Humanity polished its glittering crown once again and declared itself the pinnacle of creation. The universe, apparently, agreed by refusing to speak.

  My taxi turned onto the correct street. Just a few more minutes-and I’d be there.

  When public organizations, governments, and corporations decided to stop spending money and materials on something that promised neither quick profit nor competitive advantage, and left the Grays alone, less public-and less scrupulous-individuals took an interest in them.

  Their activities were rarely written about, even in tabloids. But judging by dark web forums and certain advertisements, for at least the past ten years people had been studying the Grays without restraint in means or methods.

  For example, if a Gray was transported from one ship to another, it would resume its route as if nothing had happened and disappear into the vessel’s depths. Yet the number of Grays aboard each ship was fixed.

  Attempts to implant tracking devices beneath a Gray’s skin yielded little; the signal vanished almost immediately once it passed behind an automatic door and never reappeared. Injecting chemical markers under the skin-or introducing anything traceable into the Grays’ equivalent of blood-produced similar results.

  Carefully concealed DNA analyses revealed that… They were almost human.

  Close enough to unsettle. Not close enough to understand. They could have been considered a fifth race of Earth.

  Moreover, all the Grays on all ships and bases were something akin to clones. Differences among them were minimal, though they were not quite relatives in any familiar sense. There were almost no variations in height, weight, or even nose shape. Despite the existence of males and females, they had not reproduced sexually for many generations.

  That, however, did not prevent particularly filthy dealers from occasionally kidnapping some and selling them to obscenely wealthy degenerates for harems.

  It was, however, a short-lived investment.

  Removed from their ships, Grays would stand silently and motionless-or walk if led. They neither ate nor drank, and just as silently died after roughly a week outside their vessels.

  Cult leaders and sham civic organizations exploited this as well. They brought Grays briefly to Earth, paraded the compliant aliens around under the pretense of introducing them to the great achievements of human architecture, economics, science, and culture, staged displays of “attention” at lectures full of pseudo-scientific nonsense, and collected billions in investments.

  That business still reeks. Even thinking about it leaves a taste.

  The taxi finally stopped before a building of brown-red marble with half-columns flanking the entrance. On the steps stood the Bear and two men of similar build-but in more expensive suits.

  I stepped out of the taxi, leaving them to settle the fare.

  Three hundred sixty-seven days left. The Bear wasn’t standing there for paperwork.

  I stepped toward him.

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