A Cuckoo came a 'Calling 

'The problem is Tar'or, from my experience,' the Quakak opened his rose coloured T'marin box and inspected it's ordered ranks of plourrak phials. 'The problem is that when one culture is visited by another of a higher order the lessor culture always receives it with some suspicion.' 

'Yes Quakak, that is evident,' Tar'or peered into the box. The Quakak had some fine plourraks in there and was known to be generous with its contents. 

'Here it is. My last phial of Qip.' The Quakak extracted the bottle from its sleeve and held it up to the light and studied the clarity of the liquid. Satisfied he turned to Tar'or. 'Won't you join me?' 

'Yes Quakak, gladly. I'll get the povvar.' Tar'or fetched the povvar and lit the flame under the chrome dish. 

The Quakak waved his hand over the plate to test its heat. 'Each culture wherever we go has the equivalent of the Manqak buried in its subconscious somewhere and when we appear, enlightened as we surely are they appear to substitute us for it.'  

'The Manqak is known as the boogieman here.' Tar'or adjusted the flame until it burned blue. They both watched as the base of the bowl turned a ruddy orange. 

'Booogiiiiemaann.' The Quakak repeated slowly gathering his plourrak shroud over his head. 'What a strange word.' 

They both bent their heads over the povvar bowl. 'And where have we been asked to land?' 

The bowl hissed as the liquid hit the red hot surface. 

'In the desert where they have set up a reception for us. It's known as Arizona.' Tar'or took a deep gulp of the intoxicating Qip vapour. 

'There, we have it!' The Quakak expelled the Qip from his lungs in exasperation. 'They don't trust us. Stuck in the middle of a compound, qwaks from anywhere surrounded by their military no doubt. Yes?'  

'Yes Quakak.' The Qip was almost gone. Tar'or sat back to let the soothing suffusion bubble through his veins leaving the last vapours for the Quakak. 

The Quakak lifted the shroud off his forehead. 'Well I suppose I must do my duty and meet them tomorrow. Can you prepare a cloak, nothing too ostentatious, it would be inappropriate. Black I think. Sombre is my mood.' 

***  

'How were your meetings today Quakak.' Tar'or drew a phial of his finest Piq from his nape chain and offered it to the Quakak.  

The Quakak nodded in appreciation. 'I'll get the povvar.' 

'I saw the transmissions. Your cloak looked most suitable considering the occasion. The leader of the Americas looked impressed, the China man was an odd little character by the looks of it and the premier of the Russian lands seemed rather nervous to me.' Tar'or lit the burner. 

'Yes an odd group to be running a planet. I thanked the America's for their hospitality in offering us a site with such...expansive views. They have a tradition of shaking hands. Like so.' The Quakak grabbed Tar'or's hand and wrestled it up and down. 

'Strange but convenient Quakak.' Tar'or withdrew his hand to hide his embarrassment.  

'For us particularly so. Well Tar'or that's fine Piq you have there, you must tell me where you source it from.' The Quakak lay back and wove his delicate digits together in contemplation of the Piq. 'We will need to take off shortly to avoid any unpleasantness. No, sit there, enjoy your Piq first. No rush.' 

*** 

'Well Tar'or. Your report' The Quakak leant back and studied the planet from the comfort of his couch. 

'The presidents both died two hours after you met them. The China man hung on for three. The infection is moving outward from Washington, Moscow and Beijing as anticipated. It's spreading at eighty qwaks an hour so within two of their days the whole planet will be infected except for remotely populated areas. An excellent biological release Quakak.' 

'Good. Well done Tar'ar. Send a massage back. 'A class DVX planet, fossil and fusion fuels, abundant natural resources. Send engineers and cleaners to clear the dead. Estimated time until suitable for colonisation, five parsens.'' 

'Where next Quakak?' Tar'or shivered and unconsciously gathered his garments around himself. 

'The planet XVXXX looks the next most suitable. Have the biomist prepare the biological reagents would you. Are you all right Tar'or?' 

'Yes Quakak, it's just this planet's a little cold compared to home.' 

The Quakak opened his T'marin box. 'Here. Try this remedy; it's a plourrak my mother always used to give me for ailments. I swear by it. We wouldn't want you catching a cold would we?'

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A reverse of the War of the Worlds I think.