by Darrell Bain
“I see. Go ahead."
“Yes, sir. Upon arrival, we don't know what it will do. We presume it will begin orbiting Earth, but there's no way to tell."
“Could it be dangerous? An impact, like an aimed weapon?"
“No, sir, not so long as it keeps decelerating. Or I should amend that to say it would cause minimal damage if it impacted at the speed it will be going upon arrival, depending of course, on where it landed. It is rather massive, so far as we can tell without having any knowledge of the type of force it uses for power."
“How massive?"
“Um, minimum size, say two football field lengths and about half that in breadth. Maximum, two or three times that. It's hard to calculate a mass without knowing what's inside."
“Suppose there's nothing?"
“I can't imagine that, sir. There's at least enough instrumentation to be directing it toward us. And obviously, it's either intelligently controlled, or has instruments which determined its actions in advance."
“All right. Any idea of where on earth it might land, supposing it does land and not go into orbit?"
“No, sir. It's far too early to say."
General Binds’ mouth, when not asking questions, was set in a grim line. Hawkins could see that he obviously didn't like what he was hearing. Or perhaps it was simply the lack of hard intelligence which was aggravating him.
Hawkins glanced at the index card to see what his next item was, then continued. “We've done reflection analysis in as many wave lengths as we have instruments for. The surface of the object is made of a reflective material with a rather high albedo, although it isn't metal as we know it. We've gotten indications of several common metallic elements present, but not in concentrations high enough to account for the bulk of the object, so at present we're stumped there. Once it gets closer we may find out more, but I suspect we'll have to wait to analyze an actual sample of it, if we're allowed to.
“So far as the object attempting to communicate with us, or giving out any kind of signal for that matter, we've drawn a blank. There's been none, not in any wave length we know of.” Hawkins paused again. He felt a fine film of sweat building on his skin. Going through the briefing for the Joint Chiefs made him realize just how little they did know of the entity. No one but General Binds was asking questions, but he had a thousand for himself. So did every other scientist on Earth, he thought. He let his gaze travel around the table, waiting for the next move.
Finally Binds said “Is that all?"
“That's the main points, sir. I'm sorry we have so little hard data for you, but I've got my whole staff working to get more as it comes in. There is some elaboration in the individual briefing packets you received beforehand, and I'll be glad to try answering questions from those, if any of you have them."
General Binds scrutinized the other chiefs. They all remained singularly silent.
“I guess not. That'll be all, General Hawkins. Please be prepared to meet with us once a week for the next month or so, and you have my leave to call me personally if anything turns up you think we need to know between times."
“Thank you, sir. I will.” Hawkins saluted and left, noting how late in the day it was. Earlier, it had seemed as if time was passing at a crawl. His own office was in another portion of the pentagon. He thought of going back, but contented his conscience with a call to his clerical sergeant, telling her he would be home if anything new broke. This thing wasn't going away any time soon, and he needed some rest.
* * *
Chapter Two
Marvin Stanforth had met the president only once since his inauguration more than a year ago, and he had never been in the Oval Office. He couldn't help but cast a glance around the room as he was ushered inside.
President Jerry Berne stood up to greet him. He leaned over to shake Marvin's hand. “Good to see you again, Marvin. How are things progressing in your department?"
“Fine, Mr. President, thank you. And thank you for seeing me on such short notice."
“Glad to. I've been informed you're taking the spaceship story seriously. Sit down and tell me about it."
He acts like he's really glad to see me, and like he's interested as well, Marvin thought, but he probably treats everyone this way. Aloud, he got right to the point, but decided not to try explaining the difference between a spaceship and an object just yet.
“Mr. President, the spaceship is real. Whether it's inhabited by extraterrestrials or is simply a robotic exploration probe of our solar system isn't known yet. I can state firmly though, it is an intelligently constructed and intelligently directed object, and is being sent toward Earth. This is definitely our first contact with another intelligence in the universe. The possible benefits are enormous, as well as the possible danger. It would behoove our country to be prepared to make contact as quickly as possible with the object, ahead of other countries."
Marvin had thought hard about his last statement before deciding to relay it to the president. It would be nice if the world would unite under the auspices of this unparalleled event, but he knew it wouldn't. There would be pious proclamations from the U.N., then every country would do its damnedest to be ahead of the pack in exploiting whatever technology or other advantages could be gleaned from first contact with aliens.
“I see,” President Berne said. “And you're sure now, this is no hoax?"
“Positive sir.” If the situation hadn't been so serious, Marvin would have been amused. Aliens were coming and the President of the United States was afraid of looking foolish to his constituents!
“Then I'm open to suggestions, Marvin."
“Unfortunately, I can't advise you specifically, Mr. President. I can only ask that you have one of our own spacecraft, or several if possible, ready to go into orbit and meet the spaceship. Possibly they should already be in orbit on the projected arrival date, but someone will have to see NASA about that. Also I would advise having the military be in charge of arrangements to meet any extraterrestrial aboard, although I would like to see the State Department included."
“Why is that, Marvin ... oh, I see. You think the State Department would be too ... too..."
“Naïve, Mr. President. They would meet them with nothing but peaceful intentions when that might not be the case. The military mind is a bit more pragmatic. It would also send a ... signal to other countries. While our nation may be foundering economically, we're still the pre-eminent military power on Earth."
The mention of economics seemed to give the president pause. “Do you think I could announce the possibility of economic benefits to the country?"
“I don't see why not,” Marvin said, knowing he would do it anyway, now that the subject had been mentioned. A politician would do anything to advance his or her standing with the public. Politicians are strange creatures, he thought, not for the first time.
“Good, good. That might help with appropriations for extra funding to meet the aliens. When did you say they'd be landing?"
“We don't know that they'll land, Mr. President. The spaceship may orbit, but whether it lands or not, the arrival date appears to be around the tenth of May. You should instruct the various departments who'll be involved to be fully ready by then."
“I see. Well, I suppose I should get busy with arrangements in that case. Marvin, it's been a pleasure, and I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.” The president was already on his feet and his appointments secretary was entering the oval office to usher Marvin out.
Marvin was escorted out through a different door than the one he had come in through. As it closed behind him, he heard the president instruct his appointments secretary to cancel the rest of his schedule and to send Chase Redglove in. He grinned involuntarily, hoping Redglove got reamed out good.
* * * *
Matt wanted to stay at the university and see the latest data being downloaded from Hawaii, but it was getting very late. His stomach was empty and he had a bitter taste in his mouth from too much co
ffee and nothing to eat. It was just the sheer scale of the event that was holding him there now. Nothing really new had been discovered about the spaceship, which it was inevitably going to be called, since its detection. Its movement was the same; the red line on his monitor had advanced only a minute distance since deceleration began. The astronomers manning the Hawaiian telescope had either detected nothing else new or weren't releasing it, but data from other sources had begun arriving that told of attempts to determine size and composition. Those factors weren't anything that couldn't wait, especially since there had been no detectable communication with the object so far.
“Tara, I've simply got to get some rest and something to eat. How about you?"
“God, yes. I haven't had a bite since this morning, and that was only a piece of toast."
“Why don't we go find a place, then.” Despite his tiredness, Matt found that he had a catch in his throat as he extended the invitation. They had never met outside the university astronomy office.
“All right. I'll be with you in a minute.” She headed to the women's room, which reminded him of other demands of his body that had been pushed aside for too long. He followed her example, and was waiting on her when she returned.
“Where to?” Matt asked. He usually ate at the university cafeteria but it was certainly closed by now.
“Well, the cafeteria is closed, but the Hop Shop is open."
“I'd rather get away from the campus for a little while and see if my head will stop spinning."
Tara laughed. “Great minds. Me, too. Why don't we run over toward the mall? Ellison's serves a pretty good meal and it should still be open."
Matt had never been there, nor did he know exactly where it was. It made him suddenly realize how much of a recluse he had become since his wife's death. “All right. Would you mind if we go in your car? My mind is still so preoccupied I might drive right up to a table."
Tara laughed merrily. “Sure, but don't trust me too far. I'm not exactly in my right mind, either!"
The short ride was pleasant. It was cool outside and he lowered the window on his side part way in order to let some fresh air blow on his face. When it had revived him a bit, he glanced over at Tara. She still looked almost like she had this morning, while he felt as if he had just come from a gym workout without changing clothes. He could feel the stickiness of dried perspiration on his body. It made him decide to call it a day after their meal.
Through most of dinner, they talked of inconsequential subjects until Tara broached an area he still wasn't quite comfortable with.
“I heard that your wife died last year, Matt. I didn't know that until a few days ago when someone mentioned it in the cafeteria. I'm sorry."
“Thanks. It's ... I'm still getting over it, I guess. It was so unexpected."
She reached over and touched his hand. “I can understand, I think. My fiancée was killed a year ago. He was in the army. I don't even know where or how he died. He was in Special Forces and off on a mission somewhere, probably a terrorism thing."
“Mary died of a brain aneurysm. We didn't even know she had it.” He shrugged, trying to erase the memory of her falling and not getting up from his mind. “I'm sorry about your fiancé. It must have been hard.” He suddenly noticed she was still touching his hand. It felt pleasant.
“Yes, it was, but life has to go on."
“I guess so."
A silence descended, covering them both as if too much had been revealed too suddenly.
Matt signaled the waiter, intending to pay and for them to go.
“I'm still wound up tight as a drum. Would you mind having another drink first? I think I can have a second and still drive safely."
“All right. Same as before?"
“Uh huh."
Matt ordered, and found he was glad she had suggested it. He didn't usually drink much, but felt a sudden need of fortification.
“What brought you to Houston,” Matt asked. “Is this your home?"
“Not really. I'm a Texan but I was raised farther north, up near Dallas.” She smiled over the rim of her glass. “I like this area, though. I just wish I didn't have to fight the traffic every day."
“You and me both, but I guess it's just part of modern life."
The restaurant hadn't been crowded to begin with, but Matt suddenly noticed that they were almost alone in the dining room. “I think they're getting ready to close. I guess we'd better finish our drinks and go."
Matt slept peacefully that night, for the first time in ages. The advent of the alien object and Tara's company had finally released him for a time from pondering the inexplicable unfairness of Mary's sudden death.
* * * *
Chase Redglove still didn't believe there was a real spaceship, despite being ordered to have a presidential speech prepared for the next day and a position paper drawn up that the president could memorize and refer to at press conferences. He took the order seriously, though, as he did everything the president asked for. That was how he had landed his job, by doing exactly what the president wanted during the campaign. Before he reported the next morning he had two position papers ready; one in case the whole thing turned out to be a hoax, as he still believed it would, and another if it was real. He didn't get much sleep, but he was used to that. Presidents burned their staff's energies remorselessly and without sympathy, just as they did their own.
Gene Flanders was already seated at his desk when Redglove arrived. It caused him to frown. He didn't like subordinates arriving before he did. His power base depended on control, and being the first one to work was part of it.
“Good morning,” Flanders said, looking up as the door opened and his boss appeared.
Chase flung the papers down on Flanders’ desk. “Check these for typos, then give me back the position paper assuming that goddamned spaceship is real."
“It is,” Gene said.
“I still don't believe it. Goddamned scientists.” He uttered the words like an expletive and stalked into his own office.
Gene waited until the door closed behind him then shook his head. He wasn't well versed in the sciences himself but it was obvious the spaceship that had appeared in the solar system was real. If Redglove kept on like this, he might find himself on the wrong side of the political pendulum. He grinned inside as he began skimming the pages of print for typos or other errors. He penned several notations in the margins where his boss had made errors, all the while thinking that he had better begin studying at least the basics of outer space. The president didn't allow mistakes that hurt him very many times before the person making them was replaced. Politics was a brutal game. By the time he was finished, he had began wondering how he would function as White House Chief of Staff. This might be an opportunity.
* * * *
General Hawkins was as excited over the new development in space as he had ever been about anything. He had dreamed of spaceflight as a boy, and truly believed the moon landings that happened before he was born were going to open the space frontiers. Even after it didn't happen that way, he maintained an interest that followed him into the military and into flight school. He had applied for astronaut training but hadn't quite made the cut because of a spine that had been compromised by an ejection during one of the Gulf Wars. Fortunately, he had landed in the desert and been rescued before capture or he might have suffered more than a periodic backache.
So far, he had given two more briefing to the Joint Chiefs, one to a congressional committee and another to the secretary of defense, Constantine Moralini, who knew little more of space operations than the president and his staff. The presidential briefing the second week after discovery of the spaceship hadn't gone well. That damned Redglove character had kept interrupting, demanding to know why, if there was indeed a spaceship approaching Earth, they couldn't do something about it. He was more than ready to talk to someone sensible when Matt Selman, a friend from college days, called one night when he was at home.
“Matt! Hi,
bud. Good to hear from you."
“Just thought I'd touch base with you since you're probably up to your ears in alligators over the same thing I am."
Hawkins chuckled. “Us and everyone else with a lick of sense. There's nothing that can top an alien from outer space for being newsworthy. The journalists are playing it for all it's worth, too, what with daily reports, that graphical line they show coming nearer and nearer to Earth and speculation on why there's been no communication. Hell, they've got pundits predicting everything from an invasion to eternal peace. And I don't even want to talk about how the various religions are reacting."
“I've heard the military is taking it pretty seriously."
“That's what we're here for, ol’ buddy. Not that I think we could do much if they're intent on violence. Anything that big that can accelerate and decelerate without our being able to see how it's done has to have a lot of power."
“Not to mention the way it got into our pasture to begin with,” Matt returned. “The Sunday Supplements are saying it popped out of a space warp—which is about as good a description as any scientist has come up with, come to think of it. Chet, the reason I called is to see if you'll be visiting the Johnson Space Center anytime soon. If you are, I thought we might get together."
“It's not likely, Matt. Right now I'm stuck with keeping the Joint Chiefs informed, and that's in addition to my regular duties. I don't see much chance, unless the thing starts talking."
“No one's gotten a bleep so far, Chet. Not that I know of, and I've been keeping pretty close tabs on all my sources."
“We'd probably know before anyone else,” Hawkins said. “Not that we'd necessarily pass it on to the public."
“That sounds sensible to me, Chet. No sense getting people in a fret until we know some hard facts. How's the family?"
“The boys are graduating from high school this year. Jenny's a sophomore. Kyra's having fits trying to control her wardrobe."
