Can we please stop jumping to conclusions?
Imagine a single drop of rain falling from the sky and hearing someone call out, ‘Tornado!’ That’s what it’s like when EVERY tiny little unexplained event in space is somehow ALIENS!!!
Seth Graham, SETI
Nolan pauses for a moment, looking down at the sheet of paper. This is the only post on the page, but none of the keywords he was looking for are present. It’s relevant, though. It seems the E-5 is taking this seriously. They want to give him a well-rounded view of what’s unfolding on social media within the scientific community.
Let’s be honest.
There’s nothing I’d like more than for this to be an alien spacecraft.
Seriously, that would be revolutionary.
It would change the way we look at the universe and even how we see ourselves.
But let’s not get ahead of the science.
Bill Knight, Planetary Society
Underneath his healthy skepticism, Knight is on the verge of conceding.
The more Nolan reads, the greater his confidence grows. By focusing on the social media feeds of astronomers and astrophysicists, he’s filtering out cultural noise. Fringe ideas might be popular, but they’re a distraction. He needs to avoid hyperbole. It’s another ten minutes before something else catches his eye.
An̆duru has been reclassified as an extra-solar asteroid. Following its interaction with Saturn, it’s glowing in infrared. An̆duru now has an apparent magnitude of 12. It’s currently visible to most observatories as a smudge. Although its motion is not obvious, it can be spotted as a dim object near Saturn.
Jessie Chambers, Astronomical League
Nolan slows his pace when he reaches new posts by the NASA team from Sunday’s chat.
We’re a long way from being able to see any detail on An̆duru.
It’s just too small. Too distant.
All I’m getting in the images is glare.
Sara Hendi, JPL
I managed to get timestamped imaging from Keck and ALMA to verify calcs.
Parallax is working beautifully relative to both distant stars and our own planets.
Had fun working with the MUSE images from the other angle.
Lining their parallax with our viewpoint has been an eye-opener.
This thing is really booking!
Kath McKenzie, NASA
Still standing by J as a destination?
Seems highly unlikely.
Prof Alvarez, ESA
Oh, yeah.
Ran multiple sims.
All agree.
Got a date.
Kath McKenzie, NASA
Oh, you are such a tease.
Sara Hendi, JPL
Dec 12th.
Kath McKenzie, NASA
Merry Christmas!
Prof Alvarez, ESA
Ho ho ho.
Kath McKenzie, NASA
The door opens and a sergeant walks in. She peers around, looking lost, briefly talking with someone then hurrying to Nolan’s desk.
“Sir?” she asks. “Lieutenant Colonel Nolan Landis?”
“Yes,” he says, smiling warmly and trying to put her at ease. “How can I help?”
“Sergeant Jacinta Andrews,” she says, handing him a sheet of paper. “I’ve been assigned to your data collection job.”
“Ah,” he replies, taking the page from her and noting its distinct lack of electronic format. He remains quiet on that point.
She adds, “I thought this was important—that you should see it immediately, sir. I didn’t want to leave this until tomorrow.”
To Nolan’s surprise, Andrews has zeroed in on the same group conversation that interested him. Her transcript, though, is more recent.
Anyone able to raise Julian at SAO RAS?
Sara Hendi, JPL
Hyperbolic objects are his field.
He should be all over An̆duru.
Kath McKenzie, NASA
Nope.
SAO RAS is offline.
Pushchino and Pulkovo have also gone silent.
I get data feeds from them, but someone pulled the plug over the weekend.
Prof Alvarez, ESA
UAO is down. Dunno why.
Pete Conrad, ALMA
Sheesh. Just when we need them.
Kath McKenzie, NASA
Nolan looks up at Andrews. At a guess, she’s in her early twenties. Her hair has been meticulously pulled into a bun with clips to hold stray strands in place. No makeup. Shirt buttoned tight against her neck, crisp and neatly starched. Piercing eyes.
He looks back at the paper and then at her again.
“I’m not sure—”
“Russian, sir,” she says. “They’re all Russian observatories. SAO RAS is the Special Astrophysical Observatory of the Russian Academy of Sciences on the edge of the Black Sea. UAO is an observatory outside Vladivostok, right on the Pacific. It’s within spitting distance of China and North Korea.”
“They’re on opposite sides of the country,” Nolan says in surprise.
“Yes, sir.”
“Someone’s shut them down. Someone up high.”
“My thoughts too, sir.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. This is—”
“Nolan,” Gardner calls from the hallway. “General Cooper wants to see you.”
Gardner doesn’t have to say any more. His tone is far too formal. The general is not happy.
Nolan’s anxiety shoots through the ceiling. He wants to chase down additional information about the Russian observatories, but the general won’t wait. As it is, the Russian silence screams at him. Convincing Cooper about what he’s pieced together won’t be easy, but Nolan’s got to try.
“Great work,” he says to Andrews as he gets to his feet. Once again, his computer screens go dark.
“I’ll keep looking, sir.”
It’s only then that it strikes him. His request was open-ended. With no finish date, it was handed off to whoever sat at the end of the chain. Thankfully, Andrews is up to the task. She’s diligent, taking what must have seemed frivolous quite seriously. She probably wasn’t even told about the update to use electronic data. It doesn’t matter. She senses the importance of her work—and she’s thinking. Andrews isn’t running on autopilot.
“I appreciate your efforts,” he says, nodding as he leaves.
Nolan jogs down the corridor. General Cooper’s secretary sees him coming and opens the door in advance. Oh, she knows the drill. Inside, the general is pacing, talking to someone on the phone.
“Yes… Yes… He’s here now… I’ll get to the bottom of it… Of course… Yes, sir.”
The door closes behind Nolan. General Cooper stares at him, still talking on his phone.
“I will. Thank you, Admiral.”
He puts his phone facedown on the desk and says, “Have a seat.”
It’s a command, not a courtesy. The general’s corner office affords views of the Rockies on one side and the city on the other. Beyond the buildings, farms and prairies open out in the distance.
“That was Admiral Jacobsen, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He wants to know how the hell we learned about classified Russian submarine movements before any of his senior staff?”
“I, umm—” Nolan says, but General Cooper cuts him off.
“Apparently, Atlantic Command was taken off guard by your request. When they looked, sure enough, the Russians were in motion.”
“It’s—”
“Then there’s Harridan at Pearl. He would like to know how we gained access to a top-secret assessment that hasn’t been shared with anyone outside of CINCPACFLT operational command.”
“I was—”
“I assured Harridan my team was not going rogue. I told him no one had circumvented his protocols or had any kind of backdoor access to his secure room. Tell me I didn’t lie to him.”
Nolan swallows the lump in his throat. “That’s correct, sir.”
The general’s eyes na
rrow as he says, “You should have come to me first.”
“Yes, sir,” Nolan replies, breaking eye contact.
“Would you like to explain yourself?”
The general leans back in his chair. He looks relaxed, but Nolan has his doubts.
“It was a hunch.”
“A hunch?” the general explodes, slamming his palm on the desk. He’s not giving Nolan any room to explain. “This isn’t your high school chess club! You’re telling me that, from behind your desk in land-locked Colorado, you can guess at the orders being sent to enemy war machines hidden beneath the ocean? This isn’t a game of Clue. Don’t tell me it’s Colonel Mustard in the library with the goddamn candlestick! These are top secret commands being issued to twenty-four thousand tons of nuclear-powered ballistic missile-carrying submarines!”
The general leans forward in his chair and stares down at Nolan. “Don’t bullshit me. How the hell did you know what the Russians were doing?”
“This is going to sound crazy,” Nolan says. The general doesn’t look amused. He does, however, allow Nolan to speak.
“End of the civilized world, right? That’s what we’re paid to do. Think up threats we hope will never materialize. We plan for the unthinkable.”
General Cooper is pragmatic. He’s been around long enough to see the whim of Presidents sideline many a good leader. With a chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, and eyes as blue as the sky, he seems to stare straight through Nolan. Now he’s got his frustration off his chest, he concentrates on every word.
“Well,” Nolan says, pointing north along the Rockies. “Somewhere out there, the Russians are doing the same damn thing. Just like us, they’re planning for the unthinkable.”
Cooper nods. Nolan swallows the knot in his throat, knowing how absurd his next few words will sound. He has to phrase this in just the right way. Cooper’s a hard man, but not unreasonable.
“Over the weekend, something scared them.”
Cooper’s eyes narrow. He has to know Nolan’s referring to Comet An̆duru grazing Saturn.
“The Russians are consolidating. They’re recalling their most effective fighting assets. They’ve even locked down their civilian observatories.”
Nolan’s aware this last point will come as a surprise, but Cooper doesn’t blink. The general must know where this is going. Nolan fights the temptation to blurt out a crazy idea. He has to present this in a way that’s palatable.
“As we look deeper at their activity,” he says, “I suspect we’ll find more of their science, engineering, and military industries going dark, especially those related to ICBMs.”
From behind a poker face, General Cooper asks, “So what scared them?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it? What the hell would scare the Russians more than us?”
He leaves that point hanging for a second.
“On Saturday, an obscure extra-solar comet approached Saturn.”
Nolan pauses, wondering if he’s about to be cut off, but Cooper is intrigued.
“What should have been a purely astronomical event—a comet colliding with a gas giant—turned into something else. The comet grazed the planet, skipping like a stone on a pond.”
“Why did that scare the Russians?” the general asks.
“For two reasons,” Nolan says. “First, it should have disintegrated like a lump of clay bouncing off the road. The energy released during the event exceeded a hundred megatons. An̆duru should have shattered.”
“But it didn’t?”
“No,” Nolan says. “And that leads to the second point. After skipping off the surface of Saturn, An̆duru soared out into deep space again. Now, it’s heading for Jupiter.”
Cooper shakes his head. “I don’t see why that’s a problem for the Russians.”
“Imagine if I won the lottery,” Nolan says. “A cool hundred million dollars. What would you think?”
“You lucky bastard.”
“Now, imagine I won the lottery again the very next day and collected another hundred million bucks. What would you think?”
“I’d think you cheated.”
“Exactly,” Nolan says. “That’s what happened here. As big as Jupiter and Saturn are, they’re tiny compared to the distance between them. For an interstellar asteroid or comet or whatever to collide with one of our planets is a one-in-a-billion event. For it to align so it goes on to hit a second planet is… impossible.”
“Now hang on,” the general says. “You want me to believe this thing is an alien spacecraft?”
“It’s not what I want you to believe, sir,” Nolan says. “It’s what the Russians believe.”
“How certain are you about this?”
“I’m not, but this thing has got a bunch of American scientists scratching their heads and it’s spooked the hell out of the Russians. It really comes down to what happens when An̆duru reaches Jupiter. If it smacks into the side of it or sails right past, no problem. But if the same thing happens again and it skips back into space, we’re way beyond the realms of chance!”
“I don’t get it,” the general says. “Why would aliens want to bounce off a bunch of planets in our solar system?”
“Stopping in space is like braking on black ice,” Nolan says. “An̆duru is going so fast it would sail clear through our solar system, barely noticing even the sun’s massive gravity.
“Doing anything in space requires energy. A lot of energy. Energy to get started. Energy to stop. Why carry all the fuel you need to slow down when you can skim a few planets and get the same outcome? We do this all the time when returning from orbit.”
“Okay,” Cooper says. “I’ll bite. Why subs? Why did you think the Russians would recall their submarine fleet?”
“Because that’s what I’d do.”
“Explain.”
“We fight our wars on land. Whether it’s the Army, the Marines, the Navy, or the Air Force, our wars are about land and eventually occur on land. It’s all about boots on the ground. If An̆duru is hostile, we are completely unprepared for celestial warfare. Space Force can take out communication satellites, but even that’s in support of warfare down here. We have no ability to wage war in space. None.”
“But subs?” the general says, returning to the issue of the Russians.
“Subs are a mobile missile delivery system. If we’re going to fight in space, their missiles need to be retrofitted so they’re capable of hitting orbital targets.”
The general nods, saying, “So from our perspective, we’re talking about Minuteman and Trident missiles?”
“Yes, but we can’t just aim nukes at some marauding alien.”
“Why?”
“Regardless of whether we’re talking about Russian, Chinese, or US missiles, they’re sub-orbital rockets. Basically, they throw a few tons of H-bomb on a ballistic trajectory across the ocean. They can’t reach orbit.”
“So what are the Russians thinking?” the general asks.
“Their subs are a hidden strike force. Something that can’t be detected from orbit. Something that can be moved around the board at will. My guess is, they want to retrofit their missiles to reach orbit.”
“And that’ll work?” the general asks.
“You’re asking me? Personally?” Nolan says, pointing at himself. “I’m not sure. I understand what they’re doing and why, but I doubt the effectiveness. Subs are important. They’re an ace in the hole, but I’m not sure how to play that hand when it comes to An̆duru.”
Cooper is intrigued. “Why?”
“For two reasons. First, we don’t know what An̆duru actually is. All we know is it has heavy shielding. If it can survive an encounter with a gas giant, anything we throw at it will be like taking on a Panzer with a BB gun.”
“And second?”
“Nukes are heavy. The heavier something is, the harder it is to throw. Even if they can retrofit their missiles with a kick stage, the chances are they’re still only going to be able to reach a low Earth orbit
. There’s no reason to think An̆duru will come in low. If it is hostile, it could sit off at a distance and pound us with bombs or whatever.
“We’re sitting at the bottom of a gravity well. There’s nothing to stop An̆duru dropping rocks on us.”
General Cooper asks, “So what about you? You’re a smart man. You’ve been an analyst for over a decade. What do you think? Do you think this is a hostile alien spacecraft?”
Nolan pauses. “I’m not sure it’s even alien. We won’t know until it reaches Jupiter. As for hostile, if it is, we’re fucked.”
General Cooper leans back in his chair. The springs squeak as he turns, looking out the window. The Rockies are blanketed in fresh snow. Contrails cross the sky. He chooses his words with care.
“Why the rush? The Russians have broken cover. They’re making for Murmansk, Sevastopol, Vladivostok, and St. Petersburg. Normally, we’re playing cat and mouse with them beneath the waves, trying to detect them without being detected. And they’re playing the same goddamn game, but not anymore. Hell, some of their older subs are on the surface. Why are they showing their hand?”
Nolan replies, “Time is the enemy. It takes time to redesign missiles and retrofit subs. They must know more than we do. Much more. They’re scared. They have to be, or they’d never exposed their subs. I bet there’s someone in the Kremlin right now asking why the American’s still haven’t reacted.”
“I don’t get it. Why panic?”
“In a month, An̆duru reaches Jupiter. Depending on its speed, about a month later, it’ll be on our doorstep—and from there, everything changes. Everything!”
That’s it. That’s all Nolan’s got. Beyond that, he’s guessing. Nolan’s expecting an explosion of profanity from the general. Cooper’s known for being colorful with his language. A well-placed, ‘Fuck!’ would be in order, but the general’s quiet. The silence between them is strained. The general leans forward, taking his phone from the desk and turning it over. The screen is active. There’s a call in progress. Oh, damn. Nolan shakes his head. He’s been played by a pro.
Wherever Seeds May Fall (First Contact) Page 4
