Startoucher

by C. J. Odle

  “I’m more interested in how they managed to get their signal onto every TV in the nation,” the head of the NSA said. “The possibilities are—”

  “Irrelevant,” General O’Shea insisted. “There are clear protocols in the event of alien invasion.”

  “How do we know it’s an invasion?” the secretary of state asked.

  “What else would you call it?” the general demanded. “There’s a hostile enemy craft on US soil. They’ve taken our people. They’ve taken the president!”

  “We’re aware of that,” the assistant director of the CIA said. “But you obviously have something in mind.”

  The general nodded in the direction of the air force chief of staff. “Tell them, Rodgers.”

  The air force chief was quieter, but there was an edge to the way he stood up and addressed the room.

  “We have contingency plans, and they exist for a good reason. In the event of hostile alien contact, we have to assume they have superior technological capabilities, with the potential capacity to destroy us all.”

  He cleared his throat. “Only four people in this room have seen the highly classified material from Area 51 and Roswell. Aliens exist. Our only hope lies in delivering a decisive first blow.”

  “And what exactly would this blow involve?” the head of the NSA asked.

  The air force chief looked across at him. “It means there will be half a dozen fighter bombers scrambling from our domestic bases in the next few minutes. They will carry a mixture of bunker busting, air-to-ground, and air-to-air armaments. They will deploy those armaments with the intention of destroying the enemy vehicle before it can do anything to harm us.”

  “But you can’t just decide to attack,” the secretary of state insisted. “The president—”

  “Is compromised,” the assistant director of the CIA said. “We can’t assume anything he says is of his own volition.”

  “Just because you can make someone say what you want…” the admiral began.

  “It could easily be manipulation of the signal,” the head of the NSA said. “Even before we consider the possibilities of mental manipulation through alien technology.”

  “We don’t know what they are capable of,” the air force chief said.

  “Dead right, Rodgers,” General O’Shea replied. “We don’t. Which is why we can’t afford to take the chance.”

  “You’re seriously talking about ordering a strike on the location of the president?” the secretary of state asked. “That’s treason!”

  The six F-35s approached the spacecraft in a V formation, half a dozen of them travelling at high altitude through civilian airspace. Somewhere, an air traffic controller was probably having a fit trying to clear a route that avoided passenger planes, but the pilots of the jets simply adjusted when any other aircraft appeared on their radar screens.

  Captain Jens Oliver had flown difficult missions before. He and his squadron would normally have been engaging targets over a war zone, providing support for ground troops, or trying to take down terrorist training facilities identified by high-altitude spotter planes. In theory, they were meant to be on leave, and it probably said a lot about Captain Oliver that when he’d been told the reason for being called back in, he didn’t treat it as some kind of joke.

  But then, Captain Oliver had seen things. You didn’t fly as many missions as he had without the occasional “unexplained contact.” Lights in the sky. Strange readings. And now it seemed they were going to have to engage one.

  Six planes was probably overkill. Six planes, armed with bunker-busting air-to-ground weapons, multi-spectrum-seeking air-to-air armaments. Six as many as a smaller country, the French or the British, say, might commit to an entire warzone. But Captain Oliver didn’t question orders. Operational decisions were made well above his pay grade. His job was to engage a target at a specified location, not to reason his way through all the elements involved with picking it out. It appeared on his screen now, and Captain Oliver couldn’t help noticing the number of other vehicles and civilians around it.

  “Base, we’re looking at a civilian-heavy environment. Please confirm location of the strike.”

  “Location is correct, team leader. Continue.”

  Another glance brought with it a more disturbing element. “Base, I’m also seeing military vehicles down there. Friendlies close. I repeat, friendlies close.”

  “We’re aware. Location is correct. Continue with the strike.”

  Captain Oliver only hesitated for a moment. “Understood.”

  From the ground, it must have looked like some kind of air show, normally the only context in which people saw warplanes, flying past in carefully orchestrated displays of skill and coordination. It could almost make them forget what these incredible machines had been designed to do.

  The people around the ship followed their first instinct and pointed fingers and cameras upward at the sky. Only as the planes kept coming, their engines a dull roar against the blue horizon, did anyone think to ask why six fighter jets were flying toward them.

  The National Guard ran first, mostly because someone got on the radio and told them what might be happening next, but also partly because some of them had seen what a Hellfire missile could do at close range in the days when they’d done regular duty in Helmand or Mosul. They threw Humvees into gear, abandoning their attempts to keep the reporters back as they tried to get clear of the blast zone.

  Some of the reporters ran next, because they’d learned the hard way that when the people with guns started running, it was generally best to leave. Others joined in, and the combined rush threated to trample those too slow to get out of the way.

  Not everyone ran. Some couldn’t believe US planes would actually attack. They were citizens. They had rights, and they were pretty sure those included the right not to be bombed by their own military. Some decided they had no practical chance of making it to safety. The sand was too soft to run over quickly. And planes could approach far faster than anyone could flee.

  Instead, they gazed up at the sky and watched dots resolve themselves into the shape of planes and then grow larger as the machines came closer. The jets approached low and rapidly until the watchers below could feel the thrum of their engines as they sped into position to release their bombs. A couple of the slower camera operators, realizing they couldn’t get out of the way, decided to at least to capture the perfect record of the bombs falling.

  They took some very clear shots of the instant when the six warplanes simply vanished into an empty sky.

  Jake watched the screen as the fighter jets disappeared. He felt the ship’s power flowing out, while around him, the others stared blankly. Except for the shaman. Jake knew he could also understand.

  “Is it some kind of glitch?” Sarah asked.

  Jake shook his head. “It’s not a glitch.”

  Sirius looked at them. The alien didn’t seem affected by any of it. “You were warned of the consequences of attempting to attack the ship,” it pointed out. “The vehicles approaching were deemed to be a threat by the ship’s systems.”

  “Just like that?” Jake demanded. “You made six planes vanish? You killed six people?”

  “It happened automatically,” Vega pulsed. “I’m sorry, Jake. Our shields would have stopped their bombs, but the explosions would have killed many of those around the ship.”

  “So you made them disappear.” Jake wasn’t going to let it go. He’d seen Sirius perform its little act with the watch. He’d heard the two aliens talking about removing mankind from Earth. Only now having seen both the watch and planes vanish in a split second did the reality of what could happen begin to sink in. “Just like you’ll make all of us disappear.”

  “Only if the case is lost, Jake,” Vega sent. The alien probably intended to be conciliatory, a declaration of its intent to do everything it could to ensure it didn’t happen. Yet surely this was as unjust, a solitary alien speaking up for the whole of mankind. It appeared as ar
bitrary as anything his species was capable of.

  Jake looked around the room, taking a breath as he tried to focus. Eight witnesses, snatched because of the valuable thoughts they had to share about the characteristics of their species and its degree of evolution. And what about him and Sarah? Their presence had nothing to do with the trial; they were only a fail-safe in case humanity lost.

  He could stand on the sidelines and wait passively for the outcome, or he could try and do something constructive. After all, despite the huge changes over the last few days, he was still a lawyer and this was a court case. There must be an angle that he could exploit to help mankind.

  “The world deserves to know the truth about this,” Jake said. He said it aloud to emphasize its effect and make sure all those speaking English understood.

  “We have already allowed the president of this socio-tribal unit to speak,” Sirius pulsed. No doubt its choice of term was deliberate. A reminder of just how primitive it considered the species to be.

  “He was allowed to tell half the truth,” Jake sent. “You didn’t let him say anything about the trial, or about the consequences for all of us if it goes wrong. It’s the equivalent of a closed court.”

  “The trial does not require an audience,” Sirius pulsed back.

  “Yes, it does,” Jake insisted. “The people out there aren’t just bystanders with no stake in this. They’re the defendants in your trial. They’re the ones who will suffer the penalty if they lose. They have a right to know what’s going on. They have a right to see what’s going on.”

  “Even so—” Sirius began.

  “I believe Jake may have a point,” Vega pulsed and then glanced at Jake. “The secret is out now, so why not let humanity see its trial? It might gain something from the experience.”

  “Only if it survives,” Sirius sent, and narrowed its eyes. “The data is already in. Whatever happens during the trial will have no effect on the Supreme other than the witness statements.”

  “That’s correct,” Vega pulsed, “but if the verdict is favorable for humanity, it will go forward with a knowledge of its origins and place in the galaxy. Its future evolution will be enhanced.”

  Jake’s mind raced through the implication of what the aliens had just said. However mankind behaved during the trial, it would have no impact on the outcome. Only the raw data from the Pyramid, and the witnesses’ evidence, would be taken into account. This negated one potential angle, that if the world showed it could respond to the trial in a civilized manner, the balance might be tipped in its favor. Still, it must be best for the world to know, and he could work out another angle later on.

  “And, if we are to be wiped out,” Jake pulsed, “we deserve to know why. At the very least, you owe us that.” He pointed his finger at Sirius for emphasis, and the alien turned toward Vega.

  “You planned this all along when you revealed the craft,” Sirius sent, its slit mouth twitching and its telepathic tone conveying something akin to anger. Vega did not respond.

  The nictitating membranes on Sirius’s eyes closed, and the alien became motionless, deep in thought.

  “All right,” Sirius finally pulsed. “Tell them. Let them see. We will move the trial to six p.m. local time to allow the species to prepare.”

  They put the president on screen again, taking over TV streams and internet feeds as easily as before. Once again the president stood in front of the other witnesses. This time he looked less stately and more worried. He’d seen the vanishing planes as well, but he managed to recover; he’d had plenty of practice at delivering grave news. Although he generally had a speechwriter to help him.

  “Global citizens,” he began. “Earlier, I spoke to tell you about visitors to our planet taking some of us aboard their spaceship. I warned you not to attempt a military intervention.” He looked down for a moment. “We have all seen the tragic consequences of ignoring my earlier warning.”

  In the room, Jake could feel Sirius’s faint disapproval, Vega’s note of regret. The screens of the world wouldn’t convey either. They would only show the stark image of the president, trying to explain the inexplicable to billions of incredulous people.

  “I have now been authorized to tell you more of what is going on within this ship,” the president continued. “The truth is that there is a trial taking place here, and we are all in the dock. Not just the people you see in front of you on your screen but all of humanity. We are accused of being a destructive and violent species, a threat to this planet and everything on it, including ourselves. The people you see here have been selected as our witnesses for this trial, and the aliens have already analyzed the entire history of humanity, everything we have ever done, and been, and written.”

  The president removed the white handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his brow. He then drew himself taller, as though aware that this could be the last speech he delivered.

  “The trial will determine the future for all of us,” the president said. “If we fail here, if the decision… does not go our way… then we will be removed from the Earth. Have no doubt in your minds and hearts. We are currently facing the greatest challenge in our history. What happens here is more important than countries, or rivalries, or our personal differences. We must work together to ensure mankind remains on the planet. For now, this work involves waiting, and watching, and trusting us. We must also show our ability to respond in a civilized way to this unprecedented crisis, to avoid the destruction and suffering caused by panic and chaos. You will be permitted to watch the trial as it progresses. I can only assure you that I, and all those here, will do the utmost possible to ensure humanity survives.” He took a moment to clear his throat. “I can reveal the trial will start at six p.m., local time here in the Mojave Desert.”

  The president stepped down, and Jake was expecting the broadcast to stop, but it didn’t. The president of China stepped forward in his red sweater and shirt, delivering his own address in Mandarin and calling for the people and the Party to hold off retaliatory action. The pope adjusted his skullcap and spoke in Italian of judgment and the need for faith in what could be the end times.

  The others took their turn as well, adding their own messages of support or promising to do their best. Dr. Gardener, still in his lab coat, highlighted the future possibilities of learning from a more advanced species. Professor Allen looked authoritative with her gray hair and sober jacket, and she assured the world of her ability and experience to talk through any ethical issues. The shaman spoke about spirits, while Amita gave a message for her family, the bangles on her arm jingling as she moved her hands around.

  Paige’s message was a little confusing and seemed to be about a premonition of how she’d known something like this would happen to her eventually, but she spoke anyway, looking very young with her blonde ponytail hair and freckles, and told her parents how much she missed them.

  The impact of the incredible broadcast swept like wildfire across the world. Some still believed it a hoax, but they were in the minority. A few people in remote locations stayed blissfully ignorant of their appointment with destiny, but most of the many billions alive soon became aware of the events unfolding on an alien spaceship tucked away in the Kelso Dunes. Those in the Pentagon briefly considered a nuclear strike but voted against it on the evidence of the alien’s far superior technology. Instead, the commanders adopted a wait-and-see policy until the end of the trial. General O’Shea dissented.

  Many people panicked. Riots broke out in some parts of the world. In Rio, long-standing complaints from the favelas boiled over into violence. In Moscow, looters made off with what they could. In Ulan Bator, Mongolia, there were fights as people argued about what it all meant. A cult in the Midwest decided the arrival of the aliens was proof of their prophesied end time, and the resulting mass suicide became a footnote on the news. Riot police around the world found all leave canceled.

  For the most part, they weren’t needed. Yes, there were riots, but not as many as
the potential end of the world warranted. The feeds from the alien craft inspired a kind of tense, cold fear, but the whole situation remained too surreal to create a real sense of immediate danger.

  Instead, people began to gather together in calmer ways. Those who hadn’t been to church in years suddenly found themselves packing the pews. Vigils started in Buddhist temples, with monks chanting sutras as incense perfumed the air. In mosques and temples, open spaces and small shrines, people sought whatever comfort and answers they could. Amita’s parents performed a puja at their local temple, trying to find the most appropriate deities to pray to given the strange circumstances in which they found themselves. Paige’s parents went to see their priest for the first time in over a decade.

  For now, the world kept turning. Not everyone walked out of work, and some basic infrastructure retained enough personnel to function. All commercial flights in the United States were canceled, leaving the TV stations who hadn’t yet sent crews to the desert scrambling for helicopters and light planes to ensure they didn’t miss out on the greatest show on Earth. A larger camp began to assemble around the spaceship on the sand, with the military, for the time, having the grace to stay on the perimeter and confine themselves to sealing off the area with the help of park rangers to prevent more onlookers gaining access. The last mile or so of the dirt-track road became totally blocked with cars, but those who could left their vehicles to walk on the sand and try and sneak past the checkpoints set up by the authorities.

  The governor of California arrived in his private chopper; a closet alien buff, he could now give free rein to his hidden passion. On seeing many of his fellow fanatics unprepared for the desert heat, he called in a favor and arranged for an airlift of essential supplies.

  Within the main zone around the ship, nearly one thousand people milled about. There were a multitude of tents and generators, trucks and jeeps, satellite dishes, and even a food stall or two.