Nikita Khrushchev opened his eyes to a blinding light. He sat up and took a look around. He was in a white, featureless room with the rest of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Most of them were walking around in a daze, a couple of them had gotten to their feet, and the rest of them were just beginning to stir.

“What is the meaning of this, Leonid?” Khrushchev asked as Brezhnev helped the chairman to his feet.

“I’m at a loss,” Brezhnev said. “I was working in my office and then suddenly was here.”

“Yes, the same happened to me.” Khrushchev looked around the room for any clue. “I didn’t know the Americans had this much nerve.”

“It was not the Americans.” The members of the Central Committee turned in the direction of the soft voice to find a Gray alien standing among them. He entered through no door. He was just suddenly there. “It was us.”

“Explain yourself, creature,” Khrushchev said.

“That is exactly why I am here, and I assume you deduced that which reduces your command to the level of simple posturing. That is a curious affectation of your species. We will need to do something about that, but now for the explanation. Earth is not the first planet we have conquered. Far from it…”

“You have not conquered us,” Brezhnev jeered.

“A technicality,” the Gray said.

“We are interested in your resources and your labor force, but we have little interest in administration, that is something we prefer to leave to the indigenous culture. Still, we cannot ignore the fact that we have a stake in how the planet is governed. Individual autonomy and cultural plurality are not in our interest. That is where you gentlemen come in.”

“What do you want from us?” Khrushchev said.

“I gave you enough information to infer our offer.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Very well, I will explicitly voice the concept and do so using small words. Gentlemen, we desire an Earth that is under the control of a single, strong government. You’re Soviet system should meet our needs, and we intend to help you attain supremacy over your species.”

There was murmuring among the Central Committee, and then Khrushchev spoke. “Your offer is intriguing. We anticipate a future in which humanity is united under Soviet rule. With your technology we could achieve this sooner, but I’m afraid we must decline your offer. We refuse to be your puppets.”

“That is a shame,” the Gray said. “Very well, we will return you to your environment and then be off to speak to the Chinese.”

“Wait!”

The Central Committee huddled and discussed the matter once more, this time with a different sense of urgency. After only a few moments of debate, Khrushchev once more spoke for the group. “A world under Mao’s control would be a hellish nightmare for all of humanity. In the interest of avoiding such a disaster we, the Central Committee, accept your offer.”

“Good,” the Gray said. “We’ll be in touch.”

Khrushchev awoke in his office. Within moments Brezhnev barged in and closed the door behind him.

“Did that really just happen?”

Khrushchev nodded. “Yes, we have indeed made a deal with the devil, metaphorically speaking, and have placed our fate in a higher power. I fear this will not go well. We must do something to break these fresh shackles.”

“Do we?”

“What do you mean, Leonid?”

“I agree that we must eventually liberate ourselves from alien control, but not until we have used them as a means to an end. This is an opportunity that should not be squandered.”

Nikita Khrushchev mulled it over and then nodded.