by M R Cates
“If in fact, as I believe, the aliens who control Asteroid 1744 and its fragments are observing our human systems, our organization, our behavior as a race, they will observe the variations in how we behave, individually and in groups. What will they see? Will they see groups of talking apes who are caught up in their petty struggles for power and control? My hope is that they will mostly see a cooperative, caring family of nations, who wish no harm to any sentient life, either here on Earth or anywhere else in the universe. It is vital, I believe, that those elements among us exhibiting distorted, malevolent, short-sighted behavior be seen for what they are: aberrations from the norm of our human species, and not to be taken as representative of what we are in general or wish to be. My prayer and request to all who will listen is that we, as nations and as individuals, take specific steps to present the best sides of ourselves, in every thing we do and every plan we make. Even if we have no further contact with those who control the asteroid, if we can take these steps, we will certainly have done a series of great deeds for this world we live on. In more ways than one, perhaps, to improve the way we treat those among us who are powerless and weak is an important step forward in our own survival and thriving on this dear planet of ours. Thank you.”
There was dead silence in the room for a long moment, then a swelling of applause. The President stood, quietly waiting. He seemed to be genuinely touched. His wife, Jennifer had misty eyes. McBrand then turned toward Sandra. “Thank you, Dr. Hughes, for those powerful words. And thank you, too, Dr. Alundi. Both of you have reminded us of the importance of working together and setting in motion actions that best reflect our moral high ground as human beings.”
A few more things were said, and the evening began to break up. Sandra and Wyler worked their way back through numerous handshakes and gracious comments, toward the main door of the Presidential Ballroom, eventually each receiving a final handshake from Jeff McBrand. The President said to Sandra, “Before you return to Hawaii, Sandra, would you do me the honor of a professional visit to the Oval Office, to pick your brain a little more about what you said this evening?”
“Be glad to, sir,” she said, actually lying a little. She stepped away and joined Wyler in the hallway beyond.
As Sandra came up to him she asked, “Well, what do you think, Reg?”
“I think you did well, Dr. Hughes.”
“Not about what I said,” she retorted, almost petulant. “What do you think the green men will think after they've looked at us for a while?”
“Oh, the little green men. Maybe that we aren't really sure what to do.”
“Besides that, Reg.”
“Maybe that we're a mess.”
“That's what I was thinking, too.”
“Unless they really don't care, that is,” he reminded her. “Maybe they're not interested in looking at us at all.”
“Damn, sometimes I hope they aren't. Not sure we could stand up to any objective evaluation.”
As they walked toward the waiting car, Wyler asked, “Did you give that speech to us or the aliens, Sandra?”
She turned, raising her eyebrows at him. “Both,” she said. “Actually, mostly to the aliens. Can't expect humans to actually listen. Certainly not to change.”
“Thought so,” he said.
Chapter 19
Highlights of most news broadcasts around the world featured the comments made at the White House by U.N. Secretary General Mumbabwa Alundi and Dr. Sandra Hughes of the Keck Observatory. Sandra's words, in most broadcasts, were augmented by views of her speaking and other clips from the past showing her in front of the Keck Observatory, with display screens picturing the asteroid, and other scientific-looking images. If Sandra had been unknown to a remnant around the planet, that remnant had been further reduced to a trace. She herself had not seen the news reruns, but her sister Debbie had. A phone message was waiting for her at the Golden Oaks when Sandra came in from the dinner. It had been left only ten minutes earlier.
It was her sister's familiar voice. “Sandy, this may be too much, working with a sister who is such a god-damned celebrity!” There was a pause, then a cheerful addition: “Saw you and heard your speech on TV. Pretty corny! Wow! Call me if you want. Earlier here.”
Sandra called her immediately. Debbie answered on the second ring.
“Hi, Sandy!”
“What's this 'corny' comment?”
“Well ... didn't you think it was?”
“Which thing?”
“Oh, the one about hoping the green men saw all these 'caring' human beings down here on Earth.”
“Oh, that?” Sandra kicked her shoes off, leaning back on the bed. She was already out of her black dress and pantyhose, down to underwear and grateful to be. “To tell you the truth,” Sandra said, “it was a little corny. But by-damn I still meant it.”
“Just had to make it sound corny though?”
“Well, how would you have said it, Deb?”
“Let's see.” Debbie seemed to be settling herself at her end of the line, sitting, where she'd been standing. “I'd have said, well, maybe, 'Folks, the green men are probably watching us and we need to show them – even though we'd be lying in our teeth – that we're cool and wouldn't hurt a fly, much less a visitor from outer space.'“
“Hey, I like that, sis. May I use it next time?”
“If you give credit, sure.”
“Deal. How're things in Austin?”
“Fine. Just got in from a hot date.”
“Hot, huh, and in by ten o'clock? Be serious.”
“Well, the fellow is a student. Has a big test tomorrow.”
“That's a new excuse to me,” Sandra said. “But what would I know about such things?”
“Exactly, Sandy. What would you know? Your two husbands expect you to stay out late with them, after all.”
“They do indeed. And neither one talks back to me. Even if they both are as willful as hell. But who's the new guy?”
“I'm not sleeping with him, Sandy. Turned over a new leaf.”
“Right. Since when did you actually sleep with any of them?”
“No comment. Have to practice thinking pure thoughts.”
“Who's the guy?” Sandra repeated.
“Grad student in biology.”
“Hm. When did you see my speech? And where, by the way?”
“On CNN, of course. They covered every heartwarming moment of it.”
“Did they? Where did you see it?”
“Over the bar at the 'Four Jacks,' where Butler and I had gone ...”
“Butler? The guy's name is Butler? What's his first name?”
“Butler.” Debbie laughed. “Butler Oldenberg. Pretentious, right?”
“Exactly right.”
“Well, no matter. He's gone.”
“New and he's gone?”
“New in the sense of I've only had three or four dates with him. When I told him you were my sister the guy nearly wet his pants.”
“Why would he do that, Deb?”
“Because all of a sudden I was more than a piece of ass he hadn't had yet.”
“Debbie, what a coarse thing to say.”
“You don't know Butler. I'm being easy on him.”
“Then you're well rid of the fellow.”
“You got that right. But listen, I was just being a bitch, as usual. I honestly was very proud of you and what you had to say, and suddenly wondered if you knew what you were doing asking me to come to Hawaii.”
“I know exactly what I'm doing. When have I ever not? And Reggie Wyler has already set the wheels in motion. By the way, I found out your starting salary.”
“And?”
“And – remember you told me what you made, when I was in Austin?”
“Foolish me.”
“Foolish you. Are you sitting down. Hate for you to faint.”
“That bad huh?”
“Yep. Sorry to say, honey, but the offer from Keck Observatory will only be two point three
times your present salary.”
“Are you pulling my chain, Sandy?”
“And ... bless your heart ... we can only offer you three weeks vacation to start, and the 401K plan only matches ten percent of your salary.”
“Good God!”
“So, will you come?”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Then ... okay.”
Sandra’s sigh was audible. Then she said, “Oh, and one other piece of bad news. You'll have to pay for twenty percent of your medical premiums. Your employer will only pay for eighty percent. I'm truly sorry for you, madam.”
“Sandy, I'm going to cry.”
“Well, I warned you to sit down.”
“I was sitting. Now I'm ...” She was indeed crying lightly. “... starting to bang my head on the ceiling.”
—
Less than twenty-four hours later, after her brief consultation with the President in his office, Sandra was on her way home. Wyler was scheduled to remain in Washington another day. Sandra found herself to be one of only three passengers on the Air Force jet. The other two were military people – a man and a woman – assigned to Hawaii. Both were in uniform, lieutenants in the Navy, and about Sandra's age. The plane landed in Kona first, to drop her off, then to Honolulu, their destination. It was a pleasant flight, and relatively quiet, because Sandra had been seated in the forward portion of the twelve passenger seats, the other two in the back. Apparently, they'd been briefed in advance to leave the scientist alone, and had done so after boarding. She had, however, visited with them at the airport before departure and had been requested by the woman to sign her copy of the Washington Post, showing a photograph of Sandra at the podium in the White House. It was a source of some chagrin to Sandra, but she complied, trying to act both that it was no imposition and that she actually was used to doing such things.
Flying over Texas gave Sandra a twinge of homesickness and made her think about Debbie for a while. Having her sister nearby, for the first time in many years, would make for a real change in her own life. It would be wonderful, actually, to have someone else besides Carl she could actually let down in front of. She hoped it would be like old times, when she and Debbie were girls. They had been extremely close. Even then they had had so little family; now, they had even less. Sandra then mentally chastised herself. This isn't about me, she thought. It's much bigger than that. She knew there was selfishness on her part in arranging the job for Debbie, but she also would never have done so unless she'd felt that her sister would be a true value added to the Asteroid Consortium.
Sandra gave a pleasant farewell to her fellow travelers and sat quietly in the Humvee taking her from the Kona airport to Waimea. A few minutes before she got there she dialed Carl Von Drath on the cell phone.
“Carl, how about dinner?” she asked immediately.
“Hello, Sandra,” he said. “You must be home. Welcome back.”
“Almost home, actually. In route to Waimea.”
“I heard your speech, Sandra,” he said. “Very impressive.”
“My sister says it was corny.”
“So then, who is correct?” Carl asked.
“Both of you. At least I hope you are correct, too, Carl.”
“Did she agree to come to Hawaii?”
Sandra's tone brightened. “Yes, she did!”
“Wonderful.”
“You have to promise to teach her your German accent, Carl. It will help her in her new job.”
“Ach, ja!” he answered. “And why is that?”
“She'll be doing accounting and will need all the respect she can get.”
“Very well then, Sandra. I will do my best.”
“Listen, I'll pick you up in an hour. We'll go over to Justinian's.”
“That's nearly to Hilo, Sandra.”
“I know. You'll like it, though. Besides, I want to look at some plants at a garden shop near there. Shopping for welcome presents for Debbie.”
“And when will she arrive, do you think?”
“Reggie will sign her on the dotted line whenever she gets here. But she's going to give two weeks notice I think.”
“So, you sound very happy, Dr. Sandra Hughes.”
“I'm being ridiculous is the real truth, Carl. Caught up in my own web. I should be asking about you.”
“We'll talk this evening,” he said. There was a clear smile in his tone.
—
Sandra's 'voiture du jour' was a gray Chevy sedan. She had – with reluctance – tucked her hair into a Cubs baseball cap, donned old jeans, loose blue tee shirt, sunglasses and sneakers, then pulled away from home, waving at two FBI agents she didn't know. Carl was sitting on his front porch, and seemed a little more feeble as he made his way to the car. His eyes and voice, however, were as keen and bright as always. Sandra leaned over to give him a peck on the cheek – her usual greeting – and the two friends immediately launched into catching each other up. They talked steadily all the way east to the coast and down south to Justinian's. As they approached, Sandra thought about the peculiar conflict she'd had with Haim Sieber over the exploding star Moby Dick. It had been rather important to her then, she realized, irritated at herself. And so utterly insignificant now. Yet the event had gotten her into direct contact with Rico Constanza and Françoise Marnier, who were now very important people indeed in the Asteroid Consortium.
Justinian's met her expectations, and was greatly enjoyed by Carl, too. The friendly birds and colorful plants in the covered outdoor dining area were exactly what Sandra needed to welcome her back to her tropical home. Only a few people shared the place with them and no one seemed to have recognized Sandra. The waitress they had assumed they were father and daughter, which was just fine with both of them. It flashed through Sandra's mind that, in truth, Carl was like her father, replacing a parent that she'd not known long enough to know well.
Sandra went through her entire experience in the nation's capital. Carl listened quietly for the most part. The meal ended and they ordered another glass of wine apiece, sitting quietly away from the other patrons, in no hurry to leave. It would be dark in about two hours, and Sandra planned to meet colleagues in the Keck control room at ten that evening, so she had plenty of time.
“What have you been thinking about lately, Carl?” she asked. “I mean, as concerns our orbiting visitors.”
“Well, Sandra,” he said, almost yawning, “they require great patience on our part. That I will say.”
“We human beings are not exactly patient apes,” Sandra suggested.
“No indeed. We are not.” Von Drath let his eyes follow a Mynah's path along a branch hanging near the railing. “What new data do you have on these fragments, Sandra?”
“Stone, like the asteroid, shaped like it, though fatter. Probably hollow, too. Orange light pulses or streams, actually, going probably among the five fragments and possibly out to the asteroid. We're thinking seriously about moving a low-earth orbit military satellite to try to get a better look at Number Five.”
“Can the satellites nearby not already observe this one?”
“None are really nearby, as it turns out. Most of our satellites, as you already know, are either equatorial or polar. This one is at that strange 40 degree angle, and higher than most, much lower than others. Yes, there are a few of ours within, say fifty miles, but they don't really have sensors that can see much – or at least can see much in that direction. They're all aimed at the ground and can't be reprogrammed adequately.”
“Do the aliens know this, Sandra, do you think?”
She shrugged. “Damned if I know. Wouldn't put it past them, though.”
“Do you,” he asked, “think it wise to move the military satellite?”
“I agreed with the idea. If the aliens are really there in the fragment they'll see the satellite getting closer and will have to evaluate it. It's a small risk I think and may show us something by their response.”
; “Or lack of response.”
“Or lack of response,” she repeated. “There are no weapons on the satellite, or hopefully anything that can be construed to be a weapon. But it has excellent video sensors, in particular.”
“Have any of the orange light links been studied?”
“All of them have been. That's the main assignment for certain team members, including Françoise here. The intensity profiles look like noise, with a lot of fluctuations. There are color fluctuations, too, from nearly yellow, say 615 nm, up to well into the infrared, around 735 nm. Those are the spectral peaks.”
“And the fluctuation patterns for the different colors?”
“Not distinguishable. At least so far. We've sent the amplitude and spectral data from several measurements to the computing center at ORNL for them to have a go at them.”
“World's fastest computer, right, there in Oak Ridge?”
“Yes indeed. And they have a great team of computational scientists. If anybody can make heads or tails out of those orange streams, ORNL can.”
“What does your intuition tell you, Sandra?”
“They're talking, of course. But that's no great insight.”
“What else?”
“I'd be curious,” Sandra said, eyes defocused for a moment, to see what happens if we could block those streams for a moment or two.”'
“Why so?”
“Maybe they're a power source, not talking. Or maybe not just talking.”
“Pretty tiny power source, Sandra, compared with what they've already shown us.”
