Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1)

by Olan Thorensen

  “At the moment, the unit is made up of four officers besides myself and five civilians, with a sixth coming on board in the next month. I will give a slightly different perspective on our unit than that of General Tiseras. Part of the reason is that it was found early in the unit’s conception that unit members, especially those nonmilitary, were more productive and gave better insights if the unit considered not just extreme scenarios that traditional military planners would ignore but also looked at unexplained actions or phenomena.

  “I should note that we usually do not work outside the unit. That is, seldom do we travel, and never do we attend conferences or communicate in any fashion with individuals or groups that might connect us to, shall we say, oddball theories.”

  “Let me interrupt, Colonel,” said Chesterton. “I’m curious. You say you also look into . . . what did you call them . . . unexplained phenomena. That wouldn’t seem to fit with gaming out scenarios involving military action.”

  “You’re right. This is something new. I’m afraid you’ll have to check with higher levels than myself as to why this change occurred, but it came down to us a few months ago. It’s also led to a planned increase in staffing, particularly on the civilian side.”

  Chesterton turned to General Tiseras. “General?”

  “The directive came from SOCOM, sir. That’s all I know. There was no explanation.”

  “SOCOM?”

  “That’s Special Operations Command in Tampa, sir.”

  Hardesty, thought Chesterton. Is he laying more groundwork for when Site 23 threatens to become public, and he wants to get a jump on thinking about how to respond? But why unexplained phenomena, unless he’s checking whether the Object is connected to events away from Ellesmere?

  The president filed away the information, along with the intent to query Hardesty the next time they met.

  “I’m also curious, Colonel, about what kind of people are recruited for the unit. There can’t be anything like normal job descriptions.”

  “No, sir, you’re right . . . or, at least, I think you are. You see, we’re not involved in the recruiting. In fact, I don’t know how the process works. We just get notice of a new unit member. For example, just recently, we added a retired man with extensive experience as a chief investigator for the National Transportation Safety Board. He’s due to begin in a week, and I admit I’m curious to hear about his background and whether there’s a clue why he was recruited.”

  Now I know I want to query Hardesty, thought Chesterton. I suspect that whatever he’s doing, I’ll agree with it, but I hope he’s not going even further off the rails than before.

  “All very interesting, Colonel, but let’s return to that last class of scenarios, the ones about aliens from space. I think for the moment I’ve heard and read enough elsewhere about pandemics.”

  Chesterton pointedly looked at his watch. “I expect there may be other classes of scenarios, but I’ve only another hour, so why don’t you go over aliens showing up and doing whatever aliens do?”

  For the next hour, Chesterton listened and occasionally asked questions. The attorney general was clearly bored, but the defense secretary, after some initial obvious skepticism about why they were having this session, began asking reasonable questions.

  Scored on this one, too, thought Chesterton. Give myself some gold stars for at least these two cabinet appointments. I may need Gilbertson firmly on my side one of these days.

  When Neller announced that the president had another meeting he needed to attend, Chesterton thanked all present and returned to the Oval Office. As soon as they were out of the others’ earshot, Neller whispered, “When I first heard about ‘alien’ scenarios, I thought it was illegal aliens getting into the country.”

  “Well, I admit that’s a far more important and likely scenario,” said Chesterton, lying. The two men chatted, but Chesterton’s attention was on what he’d heard the previous hour.

  CHAPTER 25

  ALIEN SCENARIOS

  Bre Huddleston encouraged personnel to mingle at meals. Not trusting the staff members to accomplish this on their own, she arranged for seating assignments at evening meal twice a week. She and Huxler had early on recognized that the scientific- and academic-oriented staff members tended to keep to themselves. She kept a record and tried to see that everyone was forced to occasionally eat with all other site personnel.

  Zach agreed with the plan but went a few steps further by eating with different staff members whenever possible. He felt that it let him get a better feeling for each individual, plus let each of them size him up as being reasonably human. This was sometimes easier with certain staff elements, such as maintenance, technical, and the military.

  Tonight, he appeared later in the dining hall than usual after returning from a five-mile hike. During his early weeks since arriving at Site 23, he had spent many working hours exploring every cranny of the site or hiking within five miles of the site over the hills, mountains, valleys, and rock-strewn plains. He always logged each sojourn, along with route and distance, but made an exception about the requirement not to be out of sight of the building if alone, per site protocol. Three times he saw musk ox and kept a safe distance. One day, while climbing a slope, he looked up at the skyline to see a wolf’s silhouette on the ridge crest. It vanished quickly, but for the rest of the day he caught occasional glimpses of it. The wolf seemed to be curious—he hoped—and was not casing him for a meal.

  Any sounds he heard were ethereal. The trickling of water if he was near an ice-cold stream from melting snow and ice. Whistling of the wind down valleys or choruses over rocky ridges. His footsteps over broken rock. And when water and wind were absent, he stood without moving . . . hearing nothing . . . as if sound didn’t exist in this barren world.

  At times, he stood buried in silence, losing track of time until some inner sense rang a caution bell signaling it was time to move on or return to the site. These were the best weeks he could remember.

  This day, he had stood for almost a half-hour looking at distant mountains and listening to the wind. A beeping from his watch brought him back to awareness that it was time to return.

  When he entered the galley, the dining hall already held most of the staff. He filled his tray and stood aside, perusing seating options. He chose a table in the room’s center with one of the six settings available.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked, pro forma because no one was going to deny him a seat. To his right were Ralph Markakis and Samantha Beauford, the cute blonde radar technician whom Ralph was obviously smitten with. “Sam” habitually gushed about the food and had freaked out when she discovered Ralph had created one of the few video games she knew anything about and had played with her two brothers. Next to her was another enlisted radar person, Eddie Wilcox, one of the charter Boney Loony members. The other two diners were maintenance, Bill McLaughlin and Jennifer Campbell, both Canadians.

  Conversation had stalled when he first sat down, but within a minute it picked up again, though Zach didn’t know whether the topics were the same as before his arrival. He participated with half his attention until a cowbell rang.

  “Attention, everyone,” Bre called out. “Remember, tonight is a movie night.”

  Cheers went up, then a woman whose voice Zach didn’t recognize said something, leading Bre to laugh. “Okay, yes, it’s light outside, but you know what I mean. The day’s galley crew will start clearing away the food in five minutes, so if you want any more, you’d better get off your asses and beeline for the chow line. You’ve got twenty minutes before lights go out in this room, so finish up eating and bus your trays.”

  “Do you still intend to show the double feature?” yelled Ralph.

  “Yes,” said Bre. “If that’s too long for you older folks, you can leave after the first movie, and the rest of you have ten minutes to hit the toilets or refill at the bar. First movie is The Thing, and the second is The Day the Earth Stood Still. By popular request, they’re bo
th the original black-and-white versions.

  “And before Ralph can pipe up, the actual title of the first movie is The Thing from Another World. If you want to know which actor plays the monster, I’m sure Ralph can give you more information than you want.”

  Cheers and jeers followed, and the level of activity and noise increased as staff members rushed for final helpings of food, rose to clear their dishes, headed for toilets or the bar, or, for a minority, bid the other people to enjoy the movies they intended to forgo.

  Zach was among the latter and waited until staffers began returning for the movie night. After putting his tray, plates, and utensils on the conveyor belt, he wandered to the bar, now unattended. He helped himself to a beer and checked the lounge area the farthest from the dining area, now turning into a movie theater as people moved tables and chairs.

  He would have liked to take a couple of beers to his room and relax with a book he’d picked up from the library two days ago. However, it wouldn’t do for the site safety officer to ignore the rule of no alcoholic beverages in the rooms. When he got to the lounge, Elizabeth Wilkens and Jeff Rotham were sitting in upholstered armchairs.

  “Not going to watch the bloodthirsty monster hunting people in the Arctic?” asked Rotham, smiling. “I’d have thought someone with your background would have a stronger stomach.”

  “I’ve seen it a couple of times,” said Zach. “I doubt if they’ve changed the ending since the last time.” He didn’t respond to Rotham’s last statement. The Brit knew nothing about Zach and often availed himself of the opportunity to probe.

  “How about you, Elizabeth?” asked Rotham. “Aliens on Earth should be right up your alley.”

  The biologist glanced quickly around, then whispered, “We aren’t supposed to be talking about . . . you know.”

  “Oh, I think we’re covered,” said Rotham. “The movies most of the staff are watching have the most extreme plots. The first one is the alien who wants to drain humans of blood, and the second is aliens only out to help us. No one’s going to think anything about it, even if they overheard us talking in generalities.”

  Just then, Huxler passed the door into the lounge. He stopped in the doorway. “Ah . . . a few more truants from the creature features. I’ll get a glass of wine and join you.”

  “Bring me one, too,” said Wilkens. “Any white is okay.”

  A minute later, the site counselor pulled up a chair to join the other three in a circle. “Any topic of interest at the moment?”

  “We were just about to talk about aliens,” said Zach. “The space kind, nothing illegal. Elizabeth was concerned about security, but I agree with Jeff that a generic discussion works.” He lowered his voice to the barely audible level. “And the four of us are Level 3, so I wouldn’t worry unless someone else comes in without clearance.”

  “I expect you’re right,” said Huxler, “but just in case.” He rose to close the lounge door, then returned to his chair. “There, so what about aliens?”

  “You all must have had discussions about the repercussions if certain things become public,” said Zach. “I have my own opinions, but I’d like to hear some of yours.”

  Rotham shook his head. “I think you haven’t heard us talking about the topic because we likely all feel we’ve hashed out the scenarios well before you came aboard. Those of us who’ve been here a while pretty much know the feelings of everyone else. It’ll be good to revisit them with a fresh perspective from someone new.”

  “How about you all tell me the consensus on the biggest issues?” said Zach.

  “Well . . . what pops into mind first is technology,” said Huxler. “Whatever civilization is responsible for the Object is too far in advance of humans for us to even give an estimation of just how advanced. You know, are they a hundred years ahead of us, assuming human science continues to advance, a thousand years, a hundred thousand? However, having said that, I wonder whether the impact on the human psyche is even more important.”

  “Since it implies we’re not the center of the universe,” said Wilkins. “You can perhaps view the problem most clearly with our religions. Some might adapt well, but for others it could be an existential crisis, depending on their foundational beliefs. Hindus believe in multiple gods, although it can be argued they’re really different manifestations of a supreme being. For Muslims, because Muhammad was a prophet and not God incarnate, they might be able to adjust.

  “On the other hand, different sects of Christianity will have major issues. Was the death of Christ to save only humans or all of creation? There are at least billions of galaxies, each containing billions of stars—numbers truly well beyond comprehension by most of humanity. We now know there are other sentient beings in the universe, either currently existing or they did so in the past. How do they fit into Christian theology?”

  “Not hard to predict some reactions,” said Rotham. “Some fundamentalists of any religion will deny everything about the Object as the easiest way to avoid reconsidering their basic tenets. If Jesus sacrificed himself for humankind, what about Objectkind, or whatever the Object’s creators were? What about beings from Tau Ceti or the Andromeda Galaxy? Are they doomed to not be saved because they were born on the wrong planet? Or maybe God visited them differently from the way he did with humans. That theory has already been proposed . . . that is, God or Jesus appears as multiple incarnations to each race of beings. You can imagine the stomach ache that causes among many believers.

  “Alternatively, if Jesus was unique, then how would other beings know of his sacrifice, and what about beings who lived millions of years before Christ? Are they simply cast off as unimportant if humans remain the center of the entire universe? Or maybe those other races don’t need saving, which implies that humans are the only sinners in the universe.”

  “It could be grim,” said Wilkens. “It will challenge understanding too much for too many people. Some will lose faith, taking shelter by denying everything about religion. Others will turn more fundamentalist and deny everything that doesn’t fit into an ever narrower definition of their faith.”

  “So, you don’t see any hope, Elizabeth?” asked Huxler, surprised.

  “Oh, no. There’s hope. I’m just saying it will be turmoil, anxiety, and even violence like we might not imagine. However, I believe the answer will come in an expansion of our concepts of God. We’ll go from the provincial God of Earth to the God of the Universe. It will necessitate a reevaluation of human beings’ place in the cosmos, but a greater appreciation of God’s glory and scope could arise.”

  “I hope you’re right, Dr. Wilkens,” said Zach, “but I’m afraid I’m not as optimistic as you are.”

  “Elizabeth, Zach. Please. I’m only Dr. Wilkens when I have to impress grant agencies or university alumni.”

  “Elizabeth, then,” said Zach. “I’m glad some of us are optimistic, but what if the Object turns out to be a menace? Do you think an advanced race has to be benign?”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not blind to the potential, though I gravitate toward the positive. To ignore possibilities because they’re distasteful is irrational. I’m afraid some of our colleagues don’t see things the way I do.”

  “She means Chunhua and Klaus,” said Rotham. “They think the Object heralds world peace and nirvana forever. There have been past rows between them on one side and myself and Charles on the other. Wilbur here and Howard usually mediate if they’re around.”

  “I’m afraid it’s an expected consequence,” said Huxler, “and one that’s going to be magnified once word gets out. The people who see only danger will never understand those seeing only the positive—and, of course, the same in the opposite direction.”

  “And which camp would you fall in?” asked Zach.

  Huxler shrugged. “The third group, square in the middle. I don’t know what will happen, and I can envision the extremes on both sides, along with a spectrum of middle-of-the-road options. That uncertainty is itself a cause for
anxiety, which means that only a small minority of humanity will have purely positive views once the Object is publicized.”

  “How about you, Zach?” asked Wilkens. “What’s your gut reaction? It’s no secret that people think you have a military background or at least experience in more proactive solutions than diplomacy or mediation.”

  “I agree with all the possible scenarios, which I suppose plants me in Dr. Huxler’s team, possibly more toward the negative than I suspect where our site counselor stands. If I had to give a simple statement, I’d say I hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

  “And what do you do to prepare for the worst?” asked Rotham.

  “Oh, that was just a figure of speech. I mean you have to accept that things could go to shit.”

  Zach hoped that his words made the others forget about any options he might be thinking of. Huxler was not supposed to know about the nuke, but the doc was sharp as a tack, and he might be suspicious.

  “I would assume the world’s militaries would heat up,” said Rotham. “Is that what you mean?”

  Zach was happy to divert from his potential actions to a general question about military organizations he was not formally part of.

  “Oh, no doubt they’d go on alert, and there’d always be the danger of accidents between people with fingers on triggers. It could also exacerbate a tit-for-tat situation between countries. I’d worry about nations like Russia or China finding out and wanting to share equally in dealing with the Object. Then, if the U.S. disagreed, what would they do? It could be a miscalculation on America’s part that the others wouldn’t go too far. I’m afraid we, I mean America, might find ourselves in an impossible situation. What if Simeon starts revealing technology, and we find some of it is so dangerous we wouldn’t want the knowledge to be widely disseminated? Who would make the decisions, and what would be the consequences?”