by M R Cates
There came a hesitation, then, “A serious situation, then?”
“I would say so, Mr. President. Let me give you the basic facts without any other ears, if you don't mind. If, after you hear them, you wish others in on the conversation, just let me know. I could even start over, if you wish.”
“I see,” said McBrand. “Just a moment, Dr. Hughes.”
“Sandra, sir.”
“Yes. Sandra.”
She could tell he was slightly distressed. As he should be. The President obviously had arranged to have several others listen, probably including his Chief of Staff, and would have to reverse those arrangements. Or she hoped he would. After a moment he said, “I think we are now alone, er, Sandra.”
“It would be wise, sir, to be certain we are alone,” she said, undaunted.
“Yes, I understand. Let me ... I'll just make certain, then.”
There was another hesitation. McBrand then said, “Alright, Sandra, please proceed.”
Sandra swallowed, then said, “What I am about to say about the asteroid, sir, is the kind of information that will be leaked, if only by inference, by even the best-intentioned people. I know you trust your staff, sir, but, if I may be honest with you, I personally don't know them and therefore do not trust them. No implications intended, I hope you understand.”
“You are very ...” He was somewhat irked, but still in control. “... very disciplined, Dr. ... er, Sandra. Let me assure you, we are alone in the conversation.”
“Fine, sir. The fragment in near-earth orbit, the one we call Fragment Five, has sent a message directly to the Keck Observatory, encoded in light flashes. The flashes were aimed directly at the Kecks, nowhere else. The data are unequivocal, stored in double redundancy.”
The President sighed audibly. “They sent a message? And you are certain of it, Sandra?”
“Absolutely.”
“What did the message say?”
“The first message said, “Doctor Sandra Hughes, please answer.”
Suddenly the President was quiet. Sandra sensed he didn't believe her and was trying to figure out what scam was being perpetrated. “That's ... well, a rather unexpected first message, wouldn't you say?”
Sandra figured she'd better push on while she could and deal with the inevitable when necessary. “I replied, sir, since the message was directed at me. My reply was in Morse Code, and apparently read very quickly by the visitors. It said, “Hello, I got your message. Nice to hear from you.”
“You replied, Sandra? How?” His tone was nearly threatening.
“Using our atmospheric sampling lasers, Mr. President. The lasers we use to correct for air scattering. They follow the direction the telescopes are pointed.”
“So, you replied, then?” He seemed to wrestling with his own words. “I'm not so certain, Sandra, that you ...”
She interrupted, deciding she must. “Then we received a second message, sir, a few minutes later. It was also sent directly and only to the top of Mauna Kea – where the Kecks are, you understand. This message was longer and far more important. Let me remind you again, sir, that it is critically important that only you hear it the first time.”
President McBrand was barely controlling his irritation. “Sandra, I will be the judge of who hears the information, if you don't mind.”
“No, sir,” she said quietly. “With all due respect, this second message also concerns me. It is my duty to report it to you, sir, but it also is my duty not to report it to anyone else. After you have heard the message, you will know exactly what I mean.”
The scientist's words cut like sharpened ice. Finding himself in a rare situation, the President battled his own ego and replied, “I have no choice but to trust you on this, doctor. I'm sorry. Please, just a moment.” The phone shifted to hold.
Sandra scratched her head. Probably the arrogant guy had left on some recording gear, or let someone like Madeleine listen in. She was more than a little put out with him. How hard was it to understand what she'd been trying to say? It bothered her that the first message had probably been heard by other listeners. Somehow it would get out. Damn it!
McBrand came back on the line. “Alright, Sandra. Listen, let me apologize again. We are absolutely alone now.”
“Good. Here's the second message. It's rather long so don't try to write it down. I'll send you an encrypted record with everything in it. Your voice print will unlock it. Nothing else will. But I’ll read it to you now. Here goes – oh, I do think you should be sitting down.” She hesitated, then read the display screen to him. Afterwards, before he could respond, she added, “I have not yet confirmed to them that I received the message. It did require me to figure out their encoding technique.”
“Oh my God,” the President said, barely audible. “Sandra, are you absolutely sure no one could be fooling us here?”
“Absolutely, sir. But I recommend – since I know you'll want to do it anyway – you send some local security people that are here already to verify the recordings, etc. It isn't necessary that they actually read the information, you understand.”
“I will do that, Sandra. When will you send me the files?”
“They are already sent, sir. You can open them by saying your name. The images will all be there, along with the process of reading them and my reply to the first. I trust you can handle a computer well enough to sort through things without any help?”
“I can, Sandra, and you can bet I won't be asking for help for a while.”
“Okay, Mr. President. I will stand by until you tell me the next step.”
“Thank you, Sandra. Please tell no one anything about this until you hear from me. And one further thing. Your safety and welfare have taken on a heightened importance. Is that clear to you, Sandra?”
Sandra wasn't quite sure of the implication. “I don't consider myself in any danger, Mr. President.”
“As much as you – or any of us – would like to live an uncluttered life, you'll have to understand that your freedom of action will have to be limited until we fully deal with the issues these messages have raised. In my position, for example,” he added, “I have no real freedom of action. It's a part, unfortunately, of my job.”
“Yes, sir, I can see that,” Sandra said.
“I will alert the FBI and other security people there in Hawaii,” he continued. “You'll have to be under 24-hour security, Sandra.” McBrand's tone was conciliatory, trying to ease her mind.
“Mr. President, there have always been security people around me, as you probably already knew. Are you saying their presence will be more ... well, open?”
“I'm afraid so, Sandra. With the focus of the alien messages being on you, it can't be any other way.”
Sandra nearly sighed. She knew the President was simply doing his job, and figured the plan had always been to tighten up on her if the situation warranted it. Well, the situation certainly – by anyone's standards, she guessed – now warranted it. “So, what exactly will be the difference, sir, if you don't mind my asking.”
“The main thing, Sandra, is that you must coordinate all your activities with security. They'll contact you very soon.”
“Yes, sir.” She thought to herself about what she'd already sent to Carl, happy she'd done so. “I suppose I'll also be hearing from you soon, as well?”
“Yes you will.”
“Goodbye, Mr. President.” Sandra hung up. Then she exhaled heavily, realizing she'd been holding her breath.
—
Magdalene Chosit, the proprietor of the Parker Ranch Motel greeted Carl Von Drath pleasantly from behind the cash register. “Good morning, Dr. Von Drath. Nice to see you. It has been a while.”
“Good morning, Ms Chosit,” he said, smiling in his Teutonic way. Those who knew him recognized the look as a smile; others might not. “How are you?”
“Well, sir. The asteroid is certainly helping my financial situation, as you might guess.”
“I should say so,” he nodd
ed, moving toward a table she had beaten him to. There were a dozen other customers in the coffee shop, and two waitresses busy with them. It was a low time, after the breakfast rush and before lunch. Still, only about half of the tables were available. As he sat, he added, “I noticed a 'no vacancy' sign on the motel, as well.”
Magdalene beamed. “We're booked solid,” she said proudly. “Reporters, government people, you know.” The last was said quietly, because the other customers in the room were likely to be in that category.
“There will be a young woman joining me,” Von Drath said.
“Oh? So two of you.”
The old astronomer added, “She is foreign student, new here at the observatory, working under Sandra Hughes.”
“I haven't seen Sandra in some time,” Chosit said, standing and in no hurry back to the cash register. “She must be very busy – now that she is so famous.”
He nodded. “The young woman seems to thrive on work, however.”
At that moment Françoise entered. She was in jeans, a loose-fitting gray flowered blouse that looked very French, sandals and combed out dark hair. Glancing she saw Carl and crossed toward him.
“Good morning again,” the student said, presenting her hand to him. Then to Chosit, “Good morning, madam.”
“Hello,” said the proprietor. “You must be the new student”
Françoise sat across from the old man. “Oh, yes, thank you.” She rose slightly and presented a hand to the woman. “I am Françoise Marnier, you see, from France.”
“Sandra Hughes's student?” Chosit had started back toward her station.
“Yes I am.” Françoise smiled.
“Tell her hello for me, would you?”
“Oh yes I will. Thank you.”
Carl and Françoise spoke casually for a few minutes, in a sense getting used to each other once again. Their only meeting had been at Carl's house. In a few minutes each ordered from the waitress who'd come over. After she left with the order Carl finally got to the purpose of the meeting.
“Sandra,” he said, very quietly, “has measured some new light signals from Fragment Five.”
Françoise's eyes widened. “Yes? Truly? I did not know.”
“It was during the night last night,” he explained. “She suggested you and I talk.”
“I do not understand, sir. Will I not see her tonight then?”
“I don't know, Françoise. Perhaps you will. But it may be that the government will want to keep wraps on her new information.”
“Keep wraps?”
“Not let her tell anyone about it.”
“Oh. So you, then, are telling me now?” She seemed just as confused as before.
“She told me before she let the government know,” he said, pausing for a sip of coffee. “I imagine Sandra expected they might swear her to silence and wanted to speak while she could.”
Françoise looked oddly at him. “I don't understand, you see. Is this then very important information?”
“Yes, it is,” he nodded. “She wanted you to know it was important but didn't want you to know details that might cause difficulty for you.”
“Difficulty for me?”
“Françoise, politics always finds its way into anything important. Certainly you must realize that.”
She nodded, adding a little smile. “I learned a saying, in English, from Jason. Nagato, you know, the technician who works with us. Jason said, 'The devil is in the details.'“
“That is precisely it, Françoise. But I am quite sure that in due time you will be informed as to the details. For now, however, if you do not know them, no one can accuse you of associating with the devil.”
Françoise smiled again. “But I am still, you see, quite confused, sir. Why tell me anything now?”
Carl noticed the waitress arriving with their food, indicated it with his head, and waited. The two plates were presented, their coffee cups refilled and the waitress swished away, after which, Carl spoke again. “Sandra, I think, respects your capabilities, Françoise. She is very loyal to those she respects.”
The young woman blushed. “I am not sure my ... you see, my capabilities are so great.”
Carl gave her a pleasant look. “Sandra made a point of bringing you to my home, Françoise. “
“Oh, is that ... perhaps a thing that is unusual?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, thank you, sir. I have the hope that I can be helpful, but, you see, it is hard to know what will be required.”
Their conversation remained superficial after that point. Carl insisted on paying the bill and they made their way together out to his car. She had walked over from her apartment, not far away. He offered her a ride, but she refused, smiling. “Thank you, sir. But the day is so beautiful, you see, and I will be working tonight. At least I think I will.” Françoise looked around, being suddenly reminded of their real reason for meeting.
“It was very nice to talk with you,” he said.
The French student beamed brightly. “And for me, also.” The breeze stirred her long dark hair. “It is a true honor to work with Sandra. She is truly ... well, you know already, sir.”
“Brilliant,” he said. “Yes, of course she is. But more importantly, she has remarkable instincts. At times like these, instincts are more important than brilliance.”
“Do you think so, sir?”
“I do.” As he unlocked his car, he turned and said. “Sandra would claim she has good Texas common sense.” He smiled, less Teutonic than usual.
“Texas common sense? That is ... well I should not say what we French might say, you see, about Texas common sense.” Françoise smiled again, then unaccountably leaned forward and kissed the old man on the cheek. “Au revoir, monsieur,” she said and started away. “A bientot!”
He settled himself in the car and watched the young woman's progress until she rounded a corner out of sight. Carl was tired already. This was no time to be old.
Chapter 23
The FBI moved quickly. McBrand's directive had been sent just after his morning phone call from Dr. Sandra Hughes. Operatives in Waimea went immediately to the Keck Observatory headquarters building. An agent named Virginia Adams knocked on Sandra's office door less than twenty minutes after the astronomer had completed her call to the President. Agent Adams was a competent, non-nonsense person about Sandra's age, tall, slim, sharp featured and almost completely humorless. She was also obviously still trying to wake up after an interrupted night's sleep.
“Come in,” Sandra said, and rose to greet the agent.
“I'm Agent Adams, Dr. Hughes,” came the greeting, flash of badge, and proffered hand. “We're here to verify information you gave to the President.”
With that introduction the process started. Sandra's records were checked while two other agents, both men, entered the control room and asked for details of the evening observations. Sandra had already alerted the group in the control room to likely visits from security authorities since the flashes from the asteroid were an obvious change of status quo. Neither the agents nor the crew in the control room knew what the flashes meant, but the data were there, flashes and all. After half an hour of questioning at the two locations the trio of agents were satisfied that the transmissions were real and directed at Mauna Kea uniquely. When the report went back to McBrand's office, his staff put through a call to Sandra. Agent Adams had just made her departure when Sandra's encrypted cell phone rang.
“Dr. Hughes, this is Madeleine Vigola.”
“Hello.” Sandra, with some effort, put on a casual tone. “I suppose everything checks out then?”
“Yes it does,” replied the Chief of Staff. “This, as you realize, of course, doctor, is a serious new turn.”
“Yes, I do,” Sandra said. “Fragment Five is out of range at the moment, but I would like to reply to them when they come back into the Keck view.”
“When will that be, Dr. Hughes?”
“Little over an hour.”
>
Vigola asked, “What message do you plan to send?”
Sandra looked at a note pad in front of her. “Here is my planned reply: 'We understand the request for a direct meeting with Doctor Sandra Hughes. We await your further communication.'“
Vigola listened, and seemed to be writing down the words. “Let me run that by the President and others here, Dr. Hughes, and get back to you in time to send it as you planned.” The woman's words were non-threatening but her tone was icier than Sandra had remembered. The Chief of Staff continued, “It's important, in the meantime, Dr. Hughes, that you maintain strict security, but I'm sure you are fully aware of the need.”
“I am, yes,” Sandra said. “Thank you for evaluating the reply. I'll stand by.” With that Sandra hung up. That was the least she could do to maintain some level of control.
As she waited, the astronomer sent a test email to her home computer, finding – not unexpectedly – that a firewall around the Keck's computers had been established. She couldn't send any email out of the local network or the government link into various federal facilities. The information she'd sent to Carl would now be blocked; how nice that she'd sent it earlier. Then she dialed Françoise's apartment phone number. The automatic voice message came back: “Access outside the local phone network is restricted. Please dial 466-6890 for further information. She dialed the number.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation,” answered a female voice. “May I help you, Dr. Hughes?”
“I was wondering about the restrictions on my phone lines. I've been trying to reach one of my graduate students.”
“Yes, Dr. Hughes. Because of the current level of security, there are no direct outside lines from your site. We can route your calls through this number if they are important.”
Sandra thought, and listen in on them, too, I suspect. She said, “Well, it's not important at the moment, but I do need to coordinate the schedule of those who work here on our asteroid project.”
There was a pause, as the FBI worker looked through some information. “The work scheduling,” she finally said, “is being coordinated by the FBI office, Dr. Hughes. They of course will confirm the plans and schedule with you, but will deliver the scheduling information for you. Part of the security protocol. I hope this won't be too much of a burden.”
