The genius of Academics:

Alex watched the production manager's face turn from red to purple, as it snarled: “Say that again and I will kick you in the balls!” The production manager's health was a worry to Alex: Peter wasn’t a small man, and threatening violence this early in the day was a good sign that his blood pressure was higher than normal.

Crispin, Cambridge educated and white bearded, put his hands behind his back and spread his legs. In the tones of one delivering a crushing logical point he replied: “Go on then you jumped up ape!”

Behind them their prototype mass spectrometer was making the kind of fizzing noise that usually means at least ten thousand volts seeking a victim. A capacitor popped, showering the lime floor with tiny debris.

Alex cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should turn the power off?” He tried to move towards the large round power socket.

Peter, whose peripheral vision was really exceptional for his age, knocked Alex' reaching hand away.

After all, it’s only my third week on the job, Alex reminded himself. I don’t want to step too far out of line.

“What’s the point Alex?” Now Peter's face had turned white around the edges, and his breathing sounded laboured. “We’re not doing anything until this git listens to sense!”

Alex didn’t reply. He had just seen that, in the hand hidden behind his back, Crispin held a large adjustable spanner.

Calm, Alex told himself, aim to restore calm. “Well, I know I’m new here......” He trailed off.

A tiny blue sphere of light had popped into existence, just below the roof, and was hovering in tiny circles as if wondering what to do next.

“Yes?” Crispin prompted.

Alex wondered if the various things he’d taken at university parties had caught up with him. Still he tried his best: “Well that pump is about to explode....the shrapnel could hit that pressurised nitrogen bottle..... we should...turn the power off...... Um, can you see what’s abo-“

“Stop wittering boy!” Crispin locked gazes with Peter again. “We need to sort out who is steering this project, and we don’t need closed minded old weasels like him doing it!”

The tiny blue light suddenly expanded into a blue ring, with a dark gap in the centre. A ten centimetre long silvery cigar shape, surrounded by a purple haze, emerged from the gap. A clear synthesised voice announced:

“Good morning citizens of Earth: Your planet is being contacted by the All-Serve pan-stellar financial services division. We understand that you require considerable financial resources...”

Sod this, thought Alex, and ran for the door.

***

Crispin watched Alex bolt for the door, and briefly wondered: Where's he going?  

Slowly it dawned on him that the technicians around him were staring, slack jawed, at the space above his head.

He had to step back, and crank his neck at a painful angle to see.....

Taking in the tiny spaceship and its hyperspace portal he suddenly realised that gawping was the only sensible reaction, and joined everyone else.

His incomprehension was interrupted by something crashing into his midsection: Peter had taken the opportunity to drop his shoulder and charge.
As if not wanting to be left out of the excitement, the fizzing instrument exploded, sending a fan of high speed shrapnel into the nearby high pressure gas bottle.

The laboratory disappeared in a cloud of debris.

***

Had anyone still been around to hear the synthesised voice's message it would have saved humanity a lot of bother in the long run, as the whole thing ran like this:

"Good morning citizens of Earth: Your planet is being contacted by the All-Serve pan-stellar financial services division. We understand that you require considerable financial resources to reach your racial goals of ‘We came in peace, for all mankind’, as stated in the document you have left on the surface of the moon of your planet.

We are a kindly organisation, and your plea for aid has touched our hearts and other fluid pumping mechanisms. We are delighted to offer you a short term interest free loan, not exceeding fifty percent of your planetary mineral wealth. Please indicate your acceptance by existing in this room for a minimum of four seconds.

Thank you. As a significant concentration of mental and technical capacity on your world we trust that you will responsibly spread this good news to the rest of your home planet: Failure to complete your loan re-payments, within the allotted time of one terrestrial year, will result in you planet being ground down for its mineral wealth by our automated fleet. You may also find that you are unable to obtain credit in future....”