AS1

TREVOR LEWIS

For all those who believe

Part I

DISCOVERY

The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own

reason for existing. – Albert Einstein

Chapter 1

Sweat dripped onto the touchpad keyboard, causing the connectivity area of

his finger to spread through the salty liquid and activate the M key for an

extended period. Cursing, the young naval officer dried the surface with his

blue military-issue coveralls. He noticed a slight shake in his hands. The

tight walls of the Virginia-class surveillance submarine seemed to be slowly

closing in on him, a constrictor squeezing the life out of its prey. Pressing

his clammy fingers deep into his eyelids, he wished that when he reopened

his eyes, he would be surrounded by daylight, rather than the ominous red

glow that filled the interior of the top secret submarine. He focused on his

breathing, an attempt to calm his nerves and reclaim his heart rate, which

was beating above its normal pace. As the lead data analyst, he had been stationed aboard the vessel for

almost nine months, with only two days breached, allowing him and the

small crew to open the hatch and see natural light. A sensation he never

knew he could miss so much. The USS Dark Water was the most powerful

radio communication submarine in the South Pacific. It, paired with a 9-C

reconnaissance satellite, was built to intercept and communicate some of

the darkest, deepest secrets being transmitted worldwide. Now, he was face-

to-face with one of the strangest and startling transmissions yet. With limited options, he began thinking of option B as option A. Protocol

dictated that if an anomaly was detected and it passed both stage one and

stage two verification checks, he was required to submit the report. But if

he were wrong, doing so would most definitely include a demotion and a

mark on his record that every ranking officer would scoff at. The bright

monitors seemed to mock him, displaying a dizzying array of numbers and

graphs that made no sense despite his greatest efforts. Ashamed and defeated, he cursed under his breath, wishing he had never

acquired the intel that a detected signal had interfered with their satellite—a

transmission too consistent to be a bug or a natural anomaly. Holding the

rank of petty officer first class on the sub, he needed to produce a report that

provided a quantifiable explanation for the occurrence. Focusing on the

screen again and realizing that over an hour had passed since the initial log report was opened, the R0-121 regulations for the US Navy surveillance

division required all findings to be reported within ninety minutes of

discovery. He had nothing, no clue how a signal of this nature could be

interfering with their satellite. No clue how a signal could appear to be

coming from a place outside of a typical Earth orbit. No clue why the signal

didn’t seem to have any logical patterns or typical frequencies. Wiping his brow, he knew there were less than thirty minutes left to

provide his results. At this point, they would not be complete and likely

deemed “inadequate—more analysis required.” He shouldn’t be sweating

this much. Too many weeks in a row in the cramped quarters were getting

to him. Or maybe it was the weight of the decision?

Spinning his chair to

check the radar screen, he placed his hand on the cool, refreshing interior

wall of the sub. He closed his eyes and sucked in a long, deep breath of

stale recycled air. The damp coolness of the metal brought him back to the present moment. He had to send the report. But how could he do this in a way that didn’t

make him look paranoid?

Just two weeks ago he had reported on an

anomaly. That one had been an apparent mistake. But this, this was

different. This was actual data. It was a genuine signal, or at least it

appeared to be, until someone else could verify it with the other satellites. But that could take weeks. He sighed and stared at the screen again. The sixty-foot carbon-

reinforced fiber optic cable was still deployed. At the end of the cable was a

small beacon floating at the surface, communicating with the

reconnaissance satellite via binary direct laser communication. He wished

for some new information, something that would help explain what they

were dealing with, but the air was silent. There were only two choices: either classify it as a nonsignificant finding

and close the case or escalate it with a level three emergent report,

triggering an alert to the highest command. Although every part of him

wanted to sweep this one under the rug and close it out as nonsignificant,

instincts wouldn’t allow it. There was something here, something in this

data that needed to be understood. With a swift movement of his hand, he

punched in a sequence on the tablet, cutting communications from the

surfaced beacon, and began the retraction sequence. Submitting this report

would surely put them into lockdown and cause them to stay dark for weeks until the Pentagon analysts could better grasp what they were dealing with. After a moment of pause, he submitted the report of level three emergent

findings with the simple words, “More analysis required.”

He expected relief from his anxiety to come after submitting the report. However, he couldn’t shake the pit in his stomach telling him that

something was deeply disturbing about this anomaly. Chapter 2

Rays of pink light painted the empty white walls, giving the colorless room

some life. The computer lab was nearly empty, just several scientists and

lab techs remained scattered throughout the sea of computers, faces lit up

by the glow of the monitors. Gideon had been in the lab since 6 a. m ., and

the thought of missing sunset after arriving in the morning darkness put him

in a bad mood. Days had passed in this fashion for almost a week now; the

only thing keeping him going was genuine excitement and curiosity. He ran a hand through his thick mop of blond hair, fingers catching on a

long strand in his bangs. Noticing it was nearly long enough to fall into his

eyes, he wrapped it tightly around his finger and gave it an annoyed tug, as

if he thought it might pull right out. With an exhale of breath, he peered

over the row of computers. “I’m taking off. Will you lock up today when you leave?” Gideon asked. Dan, Gideon’s colleague, replied with an unenthusiastic thumbs-up. Dan

never seemed overly passionate about the research; this rubbed Gideon the

wrong way. The two of them had been partnered last year, working as a

team on the signal boosting of the 4 mm frequencies. The goal was to find

obscure radio signals and enhance them, hopefully into useful information,

often picking up disruptions from pulsar stars over six billion light-years

from Earth. Once they had gotten into the research, it became clear to Gideon that

Dan and his undergraduate degree in computer science from Harvard were

simply there for a new “gold star” to slap on a résumé.

Dan was always

going on and on about his “next move” at NASA and the CIA. Initially

frustrated with Dan’s lack of engagement, Gideon slowly began to

appreciate it, as it allowed him to dive deeper into the research and do

things his way. And now, while Dan was running around kissing ass, Gideon was

beginning to think he may have found something worth noticing. A new

energy filled him. Striking the keys of the faded, off-white keyboard, exerting extra

emphasis on the space bar, which only worked about 50 percent of the time, the macro program began running in the background. He observed as the

computer worked autonomously, tirelessly making computation after

computation. Gideon reached into his left jean pocket, finding a 5/16-inch

copper washer, a habit he used to focus his busy mind. He spun it

vigorously with his thumb around his forefinger; his brain was making

computations that could put the old computer to shame. “Do I need to reboot you?” Dan raised his head so just his eyes could be

seen over the top of the computer screen. Snapping out of his trance, Gideon replied tiredly, “Man, yeah, I’m out of

here.”

Grabbing a sticky note, Gideon wrote a message: Please do not shut

down, running an overnight program. He powered down just the monitor,

leaving the computer awake to continue its computational quest, and with

more force than necessary, slapped the note to the now black screen. “See you tomorrow,” Gideon called out as he left the shadow-filled room. Walking out of the lab took only a minute, following a small hallway to

the fluorescent green sign indicating the exit. He opened the heavy metal

door with his shoulder. The evening air was still warm as the sun dipped below the trees. Venus

was visible in the bluish-pink sky as it chased the sun into the forested

horizon. Walking to his small Airbnb-rented house would take twelve

minutes, thirteen and a half if he chose not to cut through the grass when

there was too much dew on the ground. Tonight, the grass was dry. Walking

gave him time to reflect on how it all started …

Originally from a small town in Idaho, Gideon graduated high school a

year early. He was a finalist in the MIT THINK Scholars Program with the

development of a 5G NR radio that transmitted on a 240 kHz frequency

band. After receiving scholarships and high praise, he was accepted into

MIT. Most people from his high school considered acceptance into the local

diesel mechanics apprenticeship a massive accomplishment, but his

acceptance to MIT went largely without notice. His mother had complained

about the high costs of the school, even with the scholarships. She showed

him that a career electrician made far more money than the average

research scientist. Despite her best efforts, Gideon enrolled in classes and

excelled in astrophysics and computer programming. Two years later, his brother’s accident altered the course of his life. While

changing the family truck’s oil, the block of wood shifted, dropping the

4,300-pound Dodge Dakota and putting his brother into a coma. Gideon

flew home that night, never to return to MIT. Six months of difficult times

dragged on, countless nights spent in the hospital, helplessly hoping for a

miracle that never came. After his brother’s death, Gideon’s mom chose to

move in with her mother, and Gideon moved to Seattle, hoping to land a job

at one of the big technology companies like Google, Boeing, or Blue

Origin. Soon, the harsh reality hit that an MIT dropout paired with a handful of

impressive research studies did not make up for his incomplete educational

résumé.

Working thirty-six hours a week delivering sandwiches for Jimmy

John’s had rescued him from unemployment, but not dissatisfaction. There,

he finally received the news he had been dreaming of—his acceptance into

the Green Bank internship program in Arbovale, West Virginia. Gideon remembered that phone call back home. “Green Bank Observatory is the most advanced telescope in the United

States, Mom.” He had tried to explain this amazing opportunity—reaching

for his dream at last. “It can operate from meter to millimeter wavelengths

with a one-hundred-meter diameter collecting dish with an actuating

surface. An actuating dish surface!

Can you believe that?”

“English, please, Gideon.” Her scowl was felt even over the phone. “Mom, this facility has the most advanced radio telescopes in the United

States; some argue in the whole world. We’re talking about technologies

that you don’t find anywhere else.”

“That’s nice, sweetie; I’m just worried about you. You already struggle to

make friends … I just googled Arbovale; Jesus Christ, Gideon, there isn’t

even cell service there?”

“There are plenty of workarounds to not have cell service. And being in

the middle of the National Radio Quiet Zone, a thirteen-thousand-square-

mile area with strict radio broadcasting restrictions, is what allows the

telescope to work so well. And the geography here, it’s perfect; the

telescopes have a completely unobstructed view of the sky with almost no

interference.”

“What about the town, son?

Any nice women there?”

“How would I know?” Gideon replied, rolling his eyes and blushing at

the same time. “It’s a quiet little town, but it’s beautiful, surrounded by rolling forests. It

has a bank, general store, church, small café.

I think you’d like it here …”

Gideon found his thoughts back to the present, walking home. This was a

quiet town. The only consistent sound came from the auto shop right next to

his house. Lacking a vehicle, Gideon had only left the town twice since his

arrival. This was something most outsiders thought was crazy, but the locals

found the concept of ever leaving even more foreign. Everyone here noticed

you, but nobody really saw you. Smiles were rare; pursed lips and head

nods were common practice. But he didn’t tell his mom that part. From the beginning of his research at Green Bank, things had been

mundane and straightforward. With the lack of oversight and his partner’s

lack of interest, Gideon had been able to follow his own path while still

accomplishing the requirements of his contract. He had begun running

searches of different frequencies and slot durations. After some time, he

began picking up so much space noise and chatter that he created his own

computer program to sift the data into categories, making it easier to digest. Eight days ago, his program led him to his recent discovery. He quickly

went to the head of his department with his findings but was met with a

lecture that he should stick to his assigned tasks. Bemused by the fact that

everyone had been uninterested in his findings at a facility that had been

expressly established for searching for the unknown, Gideon took it upon

himself to dig into it more, and after just a few days, he knew he had found

something … abnormal. Once home, Gideon cracked the only beer left in his fridge, a bitter porter

from a variety six-pack he had bought several weeks ago. The house was

about twice the size of his apartment back in Seattle but rented for a third of

the price. Being an Airbnb, the house was minimally furnished but had all

the basic needs covered. Pots and pans, an ancient coffee maker that seemed

to produce more steam than coffee, and a few old pieces of furniture. The living room sported a maroon sofa and what had been a television

stand, now standing empty and forlorn, waiting for something to hold. Although no attention had been paid to the aesthetics of the place, it was

tidy and clean. While unintentionally warming the beer in his hand, Gideon’s mind

raced. The signal was like none he had ever seen. When he initially discovered

it, the signal was at 104.8 GHz and ranged in a very narrow band, making it

very difficult to detect. Its origin seemed to be coming from within our solar

system, closer than the typical signals they picked up, often many light-

years away. Only a small number of unmanned crafts had ever covered that

kind of distance, and he had checked the locations of several, including the

Lucy and Psyche spacecrafts, but none seemed to be near the source of the

signal. His interest was piqued but he hadn’t been putting too much thought

into it. That all changed yesterday. When he went to realign the radio antenna to reacquire the signal,

something that always required recalibration to account for Earth’s rotation,

the signal was gone. Alarmed and a bit disappointed, he assumed it had

vanished for good. Perhaps it was just one of those anomalies you never get

the chance to understand. However, before calling it a night, he pointed the

antenna back to the last known coordinates and to his astonishment, the

signal was there, still broadcasting the same pattern as before. At that

moment, Gideon’s heart skipped a beat. It implied something nearly impossible. For the signal to be broadcasting

at the same coordinates without needing adjustment, it had to be moving in

sync with Earth’s rotation. No known man-made object could achieve that

from such a distance. To match Earth’s rotation from the asteroid belt, an

object would need to travel at an impossible velocity, faster than anything

natural could sustain, without being flung out of orbit entirely. Never had Gideon considered UFOs and folklore, but his mind was now

wandering there, only to be reeled back to the probable reality that he’d

likely found some type of confidential government technology or space

noise anomaly. Thinking of the computer grunting away back at the lab gave him an

excited feeling, like the anticipation you get when ordering something

online and knowing it will arrive the following day but don’t want to wait. Gulping down the last of the warm, dissatisfying beer, he made his way to

the bathroom. Grabbing a pair of scissors from the center drawer, he

chopped off the bangs that were beginning to disrupt his vision. Once the

final short lock of hair fell into the sink, he took a look at himself in the mirror. Dark circles hung under his blue eyes, and his beard scruff was

getting long, but that could wait another day. Taking a deep breath, Gideon

shut off the light, made his way to the small bedroom, and sank into the old

coil-sprung mattress. Chapter 3

Cold air bit Gideon’s bare arms as he waited for his watch to display 4:30

a. m ., the earliest his allotted badge would let him into the lab. Not a person

or car could be seen in the dark morning fog. People would rarely show up

before 6 a. m ., and Dan would usually arrive around 7:20, exactly ten

minutes before the head of the lab, Dr. Longsarbin, arrived. Gideon would

have more than enough time to analyze the results before anybody else

came in. Finally, the security panel buzzed, and Gideon pulled the heavy metal

door open after scanning his badge. Darkness engulfed the hallway as the

door shut behind him. As he neared Lab 113, his heart rate accelerated

above its normal frequency. He had never felt this awake so early. Scanning

his badge again, he entered the lab and heard his computer humming as it

recovered from working tirelessly throughout the night. After flipping a

switch on the wall, allowing the flow of electrons to begin moving back

through the outdated light fixtures, fluorescent bulbs illuminated, causing

his pupils to constrict. In similar fashion, the computer screen came to life,

asking for a password with a blank stare. After entering the correct order of

keystrokes with precision, Gideon removed his sticky note and placed it

face down, leaving the sticky side up to prevent contamination in case it

needed to be reused. He then refocused his attention on the data. His face warmed as the blood vessels expanded, and his stomach dropped

in exhilaration—a similar feeling to the spike of adrenaline you experience

when your airplane takes a quick plunge in turbulence. The difference was

that this feeling continued to grow and build as thoughts and speculation

raced through his neuron passageways. After nearly an hour and a half of

reviewing, the results were clear. The signal was, in fact, broadcasting in a regular pattern—this was not

random and was not a natural occurrence. But how could it be artificial?

That didn’t seem possible either. What other possibilities were there?

Another form of … intelligent life?

The loud metallic bang of the heavy exterior door made him jump, the

first sound he had heard since entering the building, alerting him that people were beginning to trickle in. Knowing he could finish the rest at home on

his laptop, Gideon transferred the results and data onto a hard drive and

rushed out of the lab. As he stepped into the hallway, now violated by the

glare of fluorescent lights lining the ceiling, he directed his eyes to the

ground to avoid eye contact with any talkative colleagues. He slipped

through the back door unnoticed. Gideon rushed home, eager to review the data. Needing a larger working

space, he pulled up the large end table next to the couch, which was empty

except for the single small trophy that sat near its edge. Gideon grabbed the

object, one of the few personal items he had brought to Green Bank, and

brushed his thumb across the gold-inscribed label, “First Place: Mathematic

Olympiad.”

He remembered going home after winning the award; his brother had

always given him a hard time about spending time at competitions. “What’s the point?

To prove to everyone how smart you are?” his brother

had asked, black grease rubbed across his right cheekbone. Gideon hadn’t replied. “Well, get your scrawny ass out here and put that brain of yours to actual

work, I’ve been waiting for you to get home,” his brother said with a wink. Gideon followed his brother to the back of the house, where there were at

least ten broken-down cars. Two of them were his brother’s and the rest

belonged to different folks in the town. “Alright,” Gideon’s brother continued, arms crossed, “Mr. Pittman is

gonna have my ass if I don’t get his car back to him. I think I got it patched

up; just needs oil and a filter.”

Gideon perked up; he loved it when his older brother needed his help. “Mr. Pittman’s Ford is a ’96 and has the 3.0L V6 engine, so you will need

four and a half quarts of 5W-30 oil and a 51515 part number oil filter. Also,

don’t forget, the day he gave it to you he said the rear left wheel bearing

was going bad, you can use a 5526-07944866 part number bearing.”

His brother laughed. “Thanks, Gid. See, you can put that photographic memory to good use

out here. We gotta start up a shop together someday. With my connections

and your memory, we’d be unstoppable …”

Gideon snapped back to the present, noticing he was squeezing the

washer in his pocket so tightly that his hand was beginning to hurt. He quickly placed the small mathematics trophy on the floor, shaking his mind

free of the relentless pull of memories. Pulling the small table to the couch and throwing his notebook on it, he

sat down and began quickly scribbling down his initial thoughts. He would

reference the hard data presented by his laptop periodically, but most had

stuck in his memory. After working for an hour on the cramped pages of his

notebook, it became clear he needed a larger writing space to work

everything out. Gideon gazed around the neglected room, noting the

outdated 1970s faded orange floral wallpaper. “This will do.” Gideon jumped up and ran to his bedside table, retrieving

several Sharpies from the old drawer. He removed the cap from the black

and placed the red and blue pens on the TV stand. Gideon then pressed the

Sharpie against the wall of his rented home and began scribbling what he

knew. Soon, the wall was covered in equations, assumptions, and theories. Standing, he smiled at his work, thinking the mess of writing looked better

than the tired, faded wallpaper. However, he knew that upon moving out, he would have to peel the walls

and repaint them, presenting it as an offer of gratitude rather than the act of

concealing possible vandalism. A stern look pulled his smile down as he

refocused on his conclusion. “This is it …” Gideon ran his hands through his hair. “The signal is—

without a doubt—artificial.”

His hand, still tangled in his hair, closed into a fist, pulling on his scalp. “How can it be?” he whispered. Gideon pulled out his laptop and began typing up his findings:

The signal is confirmed to be artificial in origin. Its narrowband

frequency ranges from 104.8 –105.2 GHz, something not found in

natural anomalies. I am confident it is coming from within our solar

system; due to its intensity and interferences, I’ll need greater time

intervals between measurements to get a better location fix. I am

VERY startled to find that the signal origin appears to be in some

sort of massive geosynchronous orbit centering around Earth. Which, due to the Earth’s relatively zero gravitational pull on an

object that far away, is an impossible trajectory without some type

of alternative thrust. Rain began tapping on the single-pane window behind him as the wind

picked up. The room darkened slightly as the clouds piled above the humble

house in the midst of its momentous discovery. Gideon walked to the small floor lamp and flipped on the switch. He

stared at the wall of illustrations. Now that he understood the origins and

general properties of the signal, he knew he had to see if he could decipher

it—was it really a message?

“What are you trying to say?” he pondered out loud, ignoring the

intrusive weather pressing down upon the house. From the moment his computer first indicated the results back in the lab,

he had a strange sensation that it might be a message. It followed a dynamic

time division multiple access frame structure, also known as DTDMA, and

featured a type of preamble. He knew this preamble was important because,

as with most signals looking to have an acknowledged receival, the

preamble is a way for a radio signal to get a receiver’s attention. He

remembered one of his professors explaining it to the class: “If you need to

address a large room of chatty people at a wedding, a common method is to

ding your knife against your glass to gain the attention of your audience,

which then allows you to broadcast your message to listening ears. This is

what a preamble does for the radio signal.”

By having a preamble, the signal clearly was trying to get found, which

was particularly inconvenient for many of his original theories. What

undetected signal wants to be found?

Gideon had only once come across

something similar. It ended up being a transmission from an Israeli satellite. Those findings had escalated quickly up the chain and Gideon had never

been given the privilege of knowing what the purpose of that satellite was. However, what was clear was that Israel had tried to make the signal

undetectable. Moving his attention back to the task at hand, Gideon noted that the

preamble took about 20 milliseconds of the four-second repetitive frame. Thus, he was sure that the 3.98 seconds of repetitive cycle contained some

type of message. The 3.98 -second frame appeared to be broken up into three subframes,

each 1.23 seconds long with a similar split between each. Gideon assumed

that these frames, per a typical DTDMA signal, would contain tens of

thousands of binary bit packets, ultimately representing a coherent message. After rubbing his eyes and the blur of regaining visual focus dissolved,

Gideon noticed something intriguing. Something familiar caught his eye. Grabbing the blue Sharpie, he went to the printed frequency chart, now

stapled to the wall, and traced a line from each spike. The action reminded

him of playing “connect the dots” as a kid. After completing the action, he

took several steps back, processing the new shape. He had seen it before. Finding the washer in his pocket, he spun it slowly,

relaxing him into deep thought. Where had he seen this graph?

Then, with a

hard squeeze on the copper washer, he remembered. The electromagnetic

absorption by water!

Pulling out his phone, he searched Google, and sure

enough, the graphs lined up nearly perfectly. Recognizing that this message contained logical information, Gideon

diverted his attention to the only two plausible explanations he could come

up with for the signal’s source. He fluttered the marker in his fingers as he

talked out loud. “First, it is plausible this is some sort of unmanned craft that somebody

or some country managed to send into space, like the Voyager or New

Horizons.”

He took a step back. “But I wonder …” His voice made a slight echo in the bare room. “All of

these crafts were designed to travel away from Earth and explore the solar

system. This is clearly being used for a different purpose and has

technology that is unprecedented, nearly unfathomable, in terms of thrust

capabilities, allowing it to have a location in a geosynchronous orbit like

this.” Gideon looked around out of habit, almost as if making sure nobody

was watching or listening. He then turned back to the wall confidently,

knowing he was in a space that contained only himself and his own mind. “Second, the signal could be of extraterrestrial origin. It doesn’t seem to

be coming from any planetary body, which would indicate that it is

originating from some type of craft.”

Gideon’s adrenaline pulsed as he realized his most plausible explanation

seemed to point toward some type of artificial non-earth-based originator:

extraterrestrial intelligence. What else could it be?

“What am I missing?

There must be a third plausible explanation. Perhaps some new classified technology I don’t know about?”

Desperate for answers, Gideon decided to allow the scientific community

to weigh in. Reviving his laptop from sleep mode, he navigated to a science

forum he’d been involved in since his MIT days. The forum contained a

core group of nearly two thousand experienced scientists, each of whom

had to complete a rigorous application to ensure that ideas would not be

stolen, reproduced, or leaked. The community was committed to providing

unbiased opinions on complex science topics, perfect for Gideon’s

application. It took nearly an hour to translate his scribbled walls into a coherent

problem statement and theory, complemented with attached data. The text

proved to be longer than he expected, but after a thorough review, it was

ready. Hovering the cursor over the post button, he pondered if he was

making the right decision, posting this for others to see …

He clicked. His post soon topped the list of diverse topics. He sent the link to a

professor he had formed a close bond with at MIT, and another to his friend,

Kyle, whom he had met in Seattle through the group. In the subject line, he

wrote: “You have to check this out and tell me I’m not crazy.”

Adrenaline lost the battle to exhaustion, and Gideon threw himself down

on the uncomfortable maroon sofa and closed his eyes. Chapter 4

Jerking awake, Gideon noticed the rain had subsided and the sun seemed to

have fallen below the horizon. His windows were no longer visual portals

of the outside world but reflected back the interior of his dimly lit room. Gideon snatched his laptop from the TV stand. Several notifications

inhabited his inbox, and many people had liked or commented on the post,

although not nearly as many as he’d expected. Topping the list of emails

were replies from both his teacher and friend. He opened the first one. Good to hear from you, Gideon. Hope all is well. Impressed to hear

you are out at Green Bank, what an impressive step. By the way, the

link you sent doesn’t seem to be working, please resend, I would

love to see what you’ve been working on. Sincerely, Dr. Moran

Annoyed, Gideon opened the second email. Link doesn’t work … Hope all is well. – Kyle

Confused, Gideon clicked the link within each email, and each time, the

browser displayed “Page does not exist.”

Opening the website, he clicked on the notifications, noticing with

mounting suspicion that all had occurred in the first five minutes of the

post. When clicking to see the comments, he was again brought to: “This

page does not exist.”

“What?

They removed my post?” In frustration, Gideon copied his

findings from the Word document and pasted them into a fresh post. After

pressing “publish,” a new page was displayed, this time a bit more startling. “Your IP address has been banned; we apologize for any inconvenience.”

Heat filled his face once again. Had the government, or whoever was

making the signal, somehow found his post and shut it down?

Was this

dangerous?

Determined to share his findings, he explored another option. Having no issue assigning a fake IP address, he created a new account and went to post, this time anonymously, tweaking some words to make it a

little more obscure and perhaps harder to find. Clicking the post, the title, Science Bloggers – Intriguing Discovery

Made, Need Opinions, now topped the list of topics by an anonymous

poster. He smiled at his victory. Hitting reply to Dr. Moran and Kyle, Gideon reposted the link and

decided to double-check before sending. To Gideon’s shock, the link

brought him to the same:

“Page does not exist.”

Gideon could hardly believe it, and for a few brief moments, while he

stared at his computer screen, he wondered if he was making a mistake. He almost laughed at the situation. This is like something out of a movie,

he thought. But the signal he had picked up was real, and so was the fact

that his posts about it were disappearing and his IP address had been

banned. It was no coincidence, he knew, and no laughing matter, either. Still shocked at everything that was happening, Gideon decided to go for

a walk to clear his mind. Gideon quickly grabbed a jacket and tossed it

around his tall, slender frame. Stepping outside, he noticed the morning sun

just beginning to light up the sky, pinks and blues fighting off the black of

the night. Walking kept his mind going forward, jumping from his solved

equations and back to the fact that he had not been able to successfully post

his links. And then a bit of despair crept in, and Gideon considered that maybe, just

maybe, he was on his way to ruining his future. Life had given him a

number of good chances to get ahead—being accepted into MIT and then

the Green Bank program. But what if one little mistake, one turn down the

wrong path saw all of his efforts negated?

And then it’s back to wrapping sandwiches, Gideon thought bitterly. But he couldn’t just ignore what he had found—and the fact that it really

looked like some powerful entity was trying to suppress it. So, as he walked

through the still-sleeping town of Arbovale, he decided that he would not

run away from his findings, whatever they were. He would, however, be as

careful as he could. I’ll tread carefully, he thought, trudging over a cluster of stones on the

sidewalk in front of him and stepping softly over them. When he made it

back to his place, Gideon found that he had walked up an appetite. He opened the fridge, the food scattered meagerly across its shelves looking

unpromising. Some bread, a few slices of cheese, a pickle jar with one

single pickle remaining. A mayo jar that looked to have just enough to

scrape out for a single sandwich. He spooned out the last dregs of mayonnaise from the jar, threw on a

couple of slices of cheese, and garnished the scanty plate with the last

pickle in the fridge. Then he plopped down and got ready to eat. As he looked down at his meager sandwich, he thought about his next

steps in life, about a time in his future when there would be more food in

the fridge than some bread and a few slices of cheese. He thought about

when he would find success in life, when his schooling, hard work and

intelligence would pay off. He wondered if they ever would. He’d seen

people work harder than ever and never seem to get anywhere, and then

others who seemed to hardly work at all who had everything they wanted

and needed. Gideon refocused his thoughts and began searching for sites to buy a new

VPN. If someone was messing with his ability to post, maybe hiding his IP

address and bouncing that trail across a few different continents would help

buy him some time. It would also allow him to run a test. Having a post

blocked was one thing, but having your entire IP address blocked was

something else altogether. He clicked on the VPN service that he had heard good things about,

excited to get started. But the page came up blank. What the—?

He clicked

back, and his computer froze. His Internet was gone. He checked his

modem and the connection. Nothing. A noise outside caught his attention, the sound of heavy boots just outside

the door. His heart began to race. He sat, frozen, sandwich clenched in one

hand as if he might be able to use it as a weapon. Never had Gideon had a

visitor at his doorstep, especially not at 6 a. m .

Now realizing the limp

sandwich would have no contribution to battling an intruder, he dropped it

on the table and stood, trying not to move one more muscle than required. He held his breath and closed his eyes, listening. Silence. He began to relax; was this all making him overly paranoid?

BANG … BANG!

Someone was pounding on the door. Gideon took several steps back,

mind racing. Another bang on the door, loud and abrupt, followed by a deep Southern voice. “West Virginia State Troopers. Gideon J. Haas, open the door.”

Startled and confused, Gideon held perfectly still. His breathing sounded

too loud in the tense silence between the shouts and pounds on the door. Time crept as he stood motionless in the small room. The scribbled walls

now gave the room an ominous look. Three more bangs came with

impressive force; Gideon wondered how many more the flimsy door could

take. “Open on up, Gideon, we’ll be comin’ in there invited er not.”

Unable to derive any alternative options, Gideon took the five steps

toward the door and reached for the handle. After trying to turn it, he

realized it was locked. Right hand still firmly grasping the cold copper

knob, his left hand reached and turned the small lock in the center of the

handle, making an inconveniently loud click as it released. His right hand

slowly began turning the doorknob an—

WHAM!

The door flew open with outrageous force, striking Gideon’s forehead

and causing his vision to flicker. Somehow, he was able to remain on his

feet, only to be thrown to the ground by the sheriff. Without attempting to

struggle, he was forcefully flipped over onto his stomach and hands swiftly

cuffed behind his back. “Gideon, we, the West Virginia State Troopers, hereby place you under

arrest for suspicion of the murder of Ms. Alexandra J. Hewitt. You have the

right to remain silent.”

Chapter 5

Last-minute travel arrangements typically frustrated Robert Waller, but

tonight was different. Word that a potential information leak may have

occurred worried him greatly. Not only could this cause worldwide panic,

but the United States would also be under intense scrutiny for hiding it. Luckily, the individual, a young astrophysicist named Gideon Haas, who

had attempted to leak the information, was safely detained and sitting in an

interrogation room at the West Virginia Sheriff’s Office. The three-and-a-

half-hour drive from DC to West Virginia gave him time to consider the last

month. Long days and weekends at the office or traveling dominated his life. After the news, although unable to share it with his wife and two sons, he

moved his family out of DC to their vacation home in a secluded area near

Sugarloaf Ski Resort in Maine. Nothing was more difficult than trying to

explain to his wife that they had to go without giving her a real reason. She

knew much of his work was confidential, but that didn’t make it any easier. She had looked him directly in the eyes, reading him. She was

frighteningly good at that, and without saying a word, she only nodded and

started helping the kids pack. It felt safer there. But safer from what, he wondered?

Was there even a

threat?

These questions had been pulsing in his brain since the call from the

five-star general, John Higgens. Waller had worked for the United States government for the last twenty

years. His roles ranged from public relations to head of top secret military

programs. He was close with many high-ranking individuals and had an

influential voice in the Oval Office. Experience like this should lead

someone to be prepared for anything. But nothing could have prepared him

for what was occurring now. The white lines of the roads zoomed by, reflecting the light coming from

his government-issued C-Class Mercedes headlights. Only the skeletons of

crops in the fields could be seen in the dark as he sped by. His thoughts

shifted. Who was Gideon, and how did he fit into all of this?

He flipped open the manila folder resting on the passenger’s seat, trusting

the car’s autopilot. A photo of Gideon sat on the cover page of the intel

packet. In the passport-size photo in the corner, Waller didn’t see a wild-

eyed old man, thug, or stereotypical scientist. He saw a young man with a

slender but lean-looking frame wearing a gray zip-up hoodie over a loose-

fitting white tee. Gideon had messy blond hair that didn’t seem to be much

of a priority. His bright blue eyes were intense, portals into what was clearly

a sharp mind. Having only an hour to review his profile before hitting the road, Waller

replayed the audio file that repeated what he had observed on paper. Gideon

was an impressively bright young man who had been through a string of

bad luck, which had brought his promising future at MIT to an abrupt end. He had since moved to Seattle, only holding a job at a sandwich shop until

beginning work at Green Bank. No ties to any terrorist groups, hacking organizations, or even a traffic

ticket. Waller knew who he would be meeting, a confused geek who had

stumbled upon something, by accident, that was much bigger than he could

imagine or cope with. Waller was an expert at being prepared for these kinds of meetings. The

more information he knew about someone, the more likely they were to

cooperate. It was like it impressed them, intimidated them, or both,

knowing so much about their personal lives. Information that ordinary

civilians wouldn’t be able to come up with so quickly. Waller focused on committing the intel to memory: from Idaho … the

MIT THINK Scholars Program … scholarships … his brother’s accident …

Green Bank. His cell phone rang, and Waller answered the call via his Bluetooth

earpiece. “Did you do some digging?” General John Higgens asked him. “I sure did.”

“And what do you know about him?” the general asked. Waller sighed, reflecting on all the information he had taken in over the

last hour. “Everything.”

Chapter 6

Gideon leaned back against the cold cement wall, neck aching from the

strain of holding up his head. With his hands cuffed behind him, there was

no relief, no way to ease the discomfort. His thoughts twisted into dark

spirals of hypothetical what-ifs, each one more suffocating than the last. They had thrown him into the back of a squad car, disregarding his frantic

pleas that this was clearly a mistake. After arriving at the local sheriff’s

office, he was searched a second time and then escorted to a holding room

without the opportunity to make a phone call or ask any questions. New voices could be heard from outside the holding cell. The door latch

twisted along with Gideon’s stomach, revealing the same trooper who had

brought him to the room just hours before, but it felt like a year ago. With

no new information and only the original accusation that he was up for a

murder, Gideon’s emotions flipped quickly between fear and anger. He had

never heard the name Alexandra Hewitt and from what he understood about

the law, he was also clearly being illegally detained and denied his phone

call. “The detective is here. He’s going to ask you a few questions.”

Gideon pondered everything he knew about situations like this. Everything he had read, everything he had heard from the rougher kids back

home. What are my legal rights here?

he wondered. “I want my phone call,” said Gideon, knowing that was definitely a right

of someone who had been arrested. The trooper hesitated, looking slightly confused. Gideon wondered about the trooper’s apparent bewilderment. Why would

asking for a phone call throw him off?

Was he not the one in charge here?

“You’ll get it after you answer a few questions. Now follow me and I’ll

take you to see the detective.”

Gideon stood; the trooper grabbed the chain linking the two cuffs around

Gideon’s wrists and pushed him through the doorway. Armed with no

knowledge or real understanding of how the legal system worked, Gideon

obliged, feeling like a cow being prodded toward its butcher. The walk down the sterile hallway felt like an eternity. Gideon’s heart pounded in his

chest and ears, unsure of what this next phase would entail. He was led into what he assumed was the interrogation room and forced

to sit down at the stainless-steel table. The sheriff released the cuffs to

Gideon’s relief … only to realize it was just to re-cuff his hands in front. Still, better than the previous configuration. The room looked as though it hadn’t been used in years, which was no

surprise considering they were still somewhere deep within rural West

Virginia. The room had a musty aura about it, with a faint smell of bleach or

some other cleaning solution. Maybe from cleaning up blood, Gideon

thought morbidly. In the corner sat an old fan, far from any outlet, perched

atop a weathered cardboard box. Clean streaks across the dusty floor

indicated larger items had recently been pulled from the room. The only

other objects remaining in the obnoxiously brightly lit room were two metal

folding chairs flanking the metal table. A large mirror occupied the adjacent

wall. Gideon wasn’t sure if he was supposed to pretend like he didn’t know

there were people looking in from the other side. Several minutes passed before a new individual walked into the room. This man was different. Dressed in a freshly pressed black suit wrapped

around a perfectly white shirt colored with a dark red tie. The man had a

persona about him that oozed experience and confidence. His high-quality

yet heavily worn leather briefcase matched his brown shoes and belt. Clean-

shaven, with hair that appeared too perfectly black to grow from a man of

his age, around fifty. He entered the room smoothly and comfortably, closed the door, and gave

the room a quick scan with dark brown eyes, which sat deep in his skull. He

turned and stepped to the table, promptly sitting down while laying the

briefcase on the table at the exact same moment. After opening the briefcase

to remove several documents and a sophisticated tablet, he finally locked

eyes with Gideon for the first time. “Hello, Gideon.”

Gideon replied with a faint smile, lifting his cuffed hands slightly off the

table as if to say he had already surrendered. “My name is Robert Waller, and I am here to explain the situation you

have gotten yourself into.”

There was a short pause, a fake smile, and then the man continued. “Alexandra Hewitt is a real, young woman who was found dead several

days ago. The autopsy report indicates murder. You see—”

“Sorry, uh, shouldn’t these … this … conversation be recorded?”

The man’s facial expression did not change in the slightest. “Would you feel better if I came in here with a little tape recorder that

had a ‘for evidence’ label slapped on it?

Press the record button when we

start talking?

Come on, Gideon, you’re a smart kid; let’s just recognize that

we are not operating under typical protocol. May I continue?”

Gideon nodded, beginning to question the legitimacy of what was going

on. Why would they not be following typical protocol?

Was he being set

up?

“So, you’re admitting you’re not following protocol?” Gideon demanded. “I’m telling you, I’m not the right guy, you don’t even know who I am!”

Waller squinted; his lips twisted in a prim smile. “I don’t know who you

are?

Well, let’s see. You’re from Idaho. From an itty-bitty town no one’s

ever heard of.” Waller brought his thumb and index finger together to

indicate the small size. It didn’t impress Gideon that the man knew he was from Idaho. It didn’t

seem like that would be too hard to find out. “You were too smart for high school, weren’t you?

Graduated early. Then

there was that scholars program, MIT THINK. You did pretty damn good

there. Got a scholarship, accolades, and then it was off to MIT.”

Gideon began to worry about where this was going. The man did know

who he was. But how?

“I won’t talk about the tragedy that made you leave MIT,” said Waller,

his face unmistakably solemn in the overly bright room. “But let’s end on a

high note with you being accepted into Green Bank. Congratulations,

Gideon.”

Gideon was paralyzed under the weight of all the information he had just

heard—information about himself. Especially the personal bits. But Waller

wasn’t done. “And now you spend your days in a lab studying radio signals with your

colleague, Dan.” Waller leaned forward over the table. “But his heart’s not

in it, is it?”

Gideon had no words. “I’ll cut to the chase. The point I am making here is we know everything

about you. And we have all the evidence we need to convict you for the

murder of Alexandra Hewitt.”

“If you really knew everything, you’d know I didn’t murder anybody!”

Gideon was beginning to feel desperate. Waller’s eyes sharpened like a cat about to pounce on its prey. “Allow me to paint you a scenario. You would be walking into a

courtroom with overwhelming evidence supporting your murder of Ms. Hewitt, who refused to go home with you last Wednesday evening after

meeting her at a bar. She was strangled behind Hoot’s Sports Saloon at

approximately 2:45 a. m .

and left next to the dumpster.”

Waller paused, studying Gideon’s reaction before continuing. “Sure, you will tell everyone how you didn’t do it and that you’re tied up

in some government conspiracy to cover up an unidentified signal you

found. And hey, maybe that’ll get you some slack and sent to a psych ward

for life instead of prison, but the point is, either way, you will get

convicted.”

“This is related to the signal!” Gideon gasped, remembering the data he’d

been studying all night. A look of knowing passed over Waller’s face, but the man simply

shrugged and shook his head grimly. “Have fun in jail.”

With that, Waller left the room, and two officers came in and escorted

Gideon to a tiny jail cell. It had gray concrete walls and a small toilet in one

of its dusty corners. The bed was a comically thin mattress lying atop a

metal frame, and it hurt Gideon’s back just looking at it. “Hey!” said Gideon as the officers shut his cell’s gate. “I didn’t do

anything!”

But they walked off disinterestedly, leaving Gideon alone to think about

everything that had happened. He plopped down on the bed, his shoulders

sinking as low as the flimsy mattress he sat on. He looked around at the

austere cell’s walls, the lack of comfort and outside light, the bars of the

gate that served as a door. Minutes turned to hours as they passed. Gideon felt around in his pocket

constantly out of habit, only to remember that the copper washer was still

resting back at his Airbnb on his table. There was no one coming to rescue

him, and the terrible bed beneath him really was where he was going to sleep. A guard came by and tossed a single sandwich wrapped in cellophane

into his cell. When Gideon unwrapped it, he saw that it was the most

unappetizing food item he had ever seen. The bread was hard and rubbery,

with a single piece of sandwich meat pressed between. There were no

condiments to be seen, and if Gideon wasn’t famished from not eating in

what felt like days, he would’ve tossed it on the ground and ignored it. Instead, he bit into the curiosity, surprised that it could actually taste worse

than it looked as he forced it down. More hours passed by, and Gideon grew tired, wondering what time it

was. Disoriented from the lack of windows and clocks. Even the pathetic

excuse of a bed he sat on seemed more and more comfortable as he lay on

his side and curled up. If he didn’t assume the fetal position, the mat wasn’t

even long enough for him to lie on without his feet hanging off the far end. Gideon recited his conversation with Waller, who had made it clear that

they weren’t following protocol. He began breaking down the situation. Who was Waller and what organization did he represent?

FBI perhaps?

Gideon wondered if he would be seeing him again or if that was really it, he

was going to jail. It didn’t make sense, a man like Waller would come all

the way out here, violate protocol, just to meet with him for several

minutes. There must be something else going on, something they needed

from Gideon. Did they really think he killed Alexandra Hewitt, whoever

that is … or was. And how did that connect to the signal he had detected?

Gideon curled up even tighter, noticing the temperature had dropped. And

there he lay in the cell, scared and cold, harrowed by the reality of this new

nightmare. Chapter 7

“Top of the morning to yah, sir.”

Gideon sat up in his bed, rubbing at his tired eyes with no idea how long

he had been asleep. Waller, still in the same suit that he had been wearing

before, stood leaning his right shoulder against the metal bars of the cell

that held Gideon captive. There was a guard standing in the aisleway, but

Waller motioned with his head for him to come over. “Yes sir,” the officer asked. “Open the cell, I need to take Gideon back to the interrogation room,”

Waller said. “I’ll need to check with the commanding offi—”

Waller interrupted. “Just open the fucking cell, I can handle it from here. I am your

commanding officer today.”

Confused and visibly startled by Waller’s aggression, the young officer

unlocked the cell and pulled open the door, which let out a loud squeal of

metal on metal. “I can handle it from here,” Waller reiterated with a raised voice, keeping

eye contact with Gideon. The officer turned on his heels and walked away. “Let’s go, Gideon,” Waller said, still locked with Gideon’s gaze. Gideon rose to his feet but nearly fell to the ground as he found his legs

had fallen completely asleep from the stiff mattress. The two walked back down the hall to the same interrogation room that

they had sat in before. “Just help me … please?” Gideon felt a stinging sensation in his nose, he

was close to tears at this point. Waller walked to one of the chairs and sat, swiftly laying his briefcase on

the table at the same time. “Well, that all depends, Gideon. Please sit.”

Waller gestured toward the remaining open chair at the opposite side of the

stainless-steel table. “Yesterday, I gave you option A, conviction leading to jail.” He looked

around the small cell and chuckled. “And today, I present to you option B.”

“Option B?” Gideon repeated. “Gideon, what you found and attempted to post is, let’s just say, a big

fuckin’ deal. I will not, and cannot, provide any more information than that. The fact that you were able to detect, boost, and then locate the signal,

especially from Green Bank, was impressive. Not many have done that. But

the fact that you were able to recognize what it represents, now that”—

Waller pointed a finger right at him—“was astounding. Because of this, we

had t—”

“Who are we?” Gideon blurted. “The United States government, Gideon. That is who I represent. Because you are clearly capable of deciphering and understanding more

about this … situation. I, and a panel of individuals, believe you could

become a valuable asset to the project. Thus, option B is that you join us in

an effort to learn more about this signal. You will inform your friends,

colleagues, and family that you were offered a job at the Department of

Defense and will be working on confidential communication methods for

the navy. You will then be placed under strict supervision while you work

for us, and all of your outside communication will be monitored.”

The man’s facial expression remained unchanged as he looked at Gideon

in silence. Mind swimming and unsure how to reply, Gideon slowly worked

out the words. “Wait a minute,” said Gideon, scratching his head, “if you

had this option the whole time, why let me spend the night in jail?”

Waller gave a sigh. “We’re shooting from the hip, Gideon. As of last

night, there was no option B. We needed you contained so you couldn’t

recklessly post any more of your data for the world to see. I made some

phone calls to the Pentagon last night.”

“OK,” Gideon replied flatly, feeling the pain in his shoulder from the

less-than-sleep-worthy mattress. Waller only shrugged. “What’s it going to be?”

“I guess … I’ll take the job. Right?

Like you’re literally giving me two

options?

Jail or work for the government on some type of foreign signal

detection?”

“I am happy about your enthusiasm, Gideon, but please take a moment to

realize that, although it seems like option B is a much better alternative, this

decision will alter your life indefinitely.”

He looked at Gideon as if he expected him to grasp everything that was

to come. “Understood. I accept … What happens now?”

“First of all, you will have to sign several documents.” The man opened

the briefcase and produced a very large stack of papers. “And then undergo

training on secret clearance while we establish your new position—do you

want me to go over each of these in detail?” Waller checked his watch. Gideon hesitated, assessing the size of the stacked papers in front of him,

wondering what more to expect. Was this all?

He nodded his head. “Yes. Doesn’t sound like I have much choice, but I want to understand all the

details. And …” Gideon lifted his hands cuffed together. “Officer!” called Waller. And after a few moments, the same officer

moseyed into the room. With a nod from Waller, he walked up and uncuffed him. Gideon rubbed

his wrists. “That will be all, please leave us,” Waller said. The officer gave Gideon a

hard stare, and then left the cell. Waller placed a pen in front of him, then explained what to anticipate in

his new role and life, going over each document. The process took over an

hour and Gideon committed each spoken word to memory. Once the papers

were signed, Waller gathered them up crisply, put them into his case, closed

and locked it, and stood. “Great, we will be in touch very shortly. Thanks for your time, Gideon,”

Waller said, leaving Gideon in the interrogation room by himself. Following Waller’s departure, the silence pressed down on him. Gideon

had always preferred quiet, it allowed him to think more clearly. But now,

the silence was torturous, as if forcing him to try and think about something

he did not understand. Now that he knew the US government was in on the

signal, he was less concerned about its origin and purpose and more

concerned with how it was going to affect him personally. Why the secrecy?

He couldn’t piece together what technology could be contained in this

signal that was so proprietary that they would go through this kind of effort

to stop it from being found. He wondered if this was some type of

cybersecurity attack on the United States. Terrorism?

Muted minutes rolled

on and on. Gideon lost track of time. Voices could be heard again and sounded like the state trooper that had

originally arrested him. He could also make out the voice of Waller. Gideon

closed his eyes, focusing on deciphering the words coming through the

room’s walls. “Mr. Waller, I am understandin’ that you work for the F-B-I, but I am not

understandin’ how you can have the authorization to remove a potential

murder suspect from holdin’?

Not none of this agrees with protocol round

here.”

“You have the documentation and I assure you this is, in fact, strictly

following protocol. He is a national security threat and is wanted back in his

home country. We will take him back to DC for questioning, and then

deport him to Israel. This discussion ends here. If you continue to resist, I

will cite you for inhibiting a government operation.”

“I’ll be followin’ up with you,” the trooper grunted. “That is fine.”

The door opened and Gideon pretended to be occupied rubbing his

wrists. The trooper, face red with beads of sweat forming on his brow,

strode into the room. “Hands,” he shouted as he removed the cuffs from his black belt. In a

series of powerful yet elegant moves, the trooper had Gideon’s hands once

again cuffed behind his back before he had time to react. Gideon grunted,

not expecting this. “Piece of shit, I hope they get yah good,” the trooper breathed in his ear,

smelling of booze and Kodiak. Gideon looked to Waller, who gave a small nod, indicating for Gideon to

play along. There didn’t seem to be much choice. The three men walked into the parking lot, Gideon directed from behind

by the trooper. The sun was just starting to rise into the cold air. Though the

circumstances were far from ideal, being outside was a welcomed

sensation, hearing the birds singing and morning traffic beginning—as if

nothing had changed. His enjoyment was quickly cut off as he was roughly pushed into the

back seat of a black Mercedes. Waller slammed the door so hard behind him

that Gideon’s ears popped from the pulse of pressure. After a few last heated words with the trooper, Waller smoothly moved

into the driver’s seat, gracefully sending his briefcase into the passenger seat simultaneously. The interior of the car was immaculate. Small details

led Gideon to believe the car was a personal car rather than a government-

assigned vehicle. Stuffed into the backseat pocket was the top of a

magazine, a travel brochure, and a Chinese restaurant menu. It lacked the

safety precautions found in squad cars, which Gideon was now all too

familiar with. Waller’s car had no screen separating him from the driver. There were

door handles on the inside, and he assumed the windows rolled down,

although with his hands still cuffed, he was unable to validate that

assumption. Without saying a word or even acknowledging that Gideon was sitting in

the back seat of his car, Waller accelerated, clearly knowing exactly where

and what the next phase of this process would be. Chapter 8

The digital alarm clock jerked Gideon from his sleep. His blurry eyes did

not check the time, as he had been required to wake at 6:00 AM for the last

four days. Lifting himself from the bed, he made his way to the plastic set

of drawers, the only other piece of furniture in the minimalistic room,

besides the twin bed and small plastic nightstand. Gideon mused at the fact

that most people would consider this a poorly furnished room. But to him it

had all the required necessities. Dressing in the clothes provided in the drawers upon his arrival, Gideon

checked himself in the mirror. The snug-fitting white collared shirt and light

brown khaki pants looked as uninteresting as they had the day before. It felt

surreal. Just several days before he had been working in an outdated

computer lab at an observatory most people had never heard of. Now, after

a night in a jail cell, he stood in a small room within the heart of the

Pentagon, stripped of all personal identity, with only a temporary badge

displaying an ID number and an unflattering picture of his tired face. He

checked his standard-issue mobile device, his own was confiscated, along

with all other personal items, but per usual there was nothing besides the

calendar reminders that helped him track his busy day. After leaving the state trooper’s station back in West Virginia, Waller had

taken Gideon to his home to retrieve his laptop and information regarding

the signal, which he was required to turn over along with all personal

belongings. Gideon had desperately tried to retrieve his copper washer,

which he had not left behind since his brother’s accident. He was met with a

wrath from Waller he hoped to never see again. Watching them place it into

a clear ziplock bag gave him more anxiety than he had experienced

throughout this entire process. When they left the house there was a group

of four men waiting outside with several cans of paint, some large pieces of

electrical equipment and other miscellaneous items. Gideon assumed they

would turn the house upside down looking for anything left behind and prep

the house to be turned back over to the owners. On the drive to DC, Waller explained a bit more about what to expect, but

would not provide any more information on the signal and its relevance. Upon arrival at the Pentagon, Gideon was required to complete a series of

scripted calls and texts to inform family and friends of his new job. This

job, an alias of course, was supposed to be at the Department of Defense in

which he would be working on confidential communication methods for the

navy. He explained that it would be a month or two of security clearance in

which he would not have access to public communication. His mother hadn’t shown much interest and just made some jokes that if

he kept moving around so much, people would start to assume he was

homeless. She asked when she’d see him again to which Gideon replied, “I

don’t know.”

A loud knock on his door regained his attention. He checked his watch. “Yup, 6:30 a. m ., right on time,” Gideon said under his breath. After inhaling a deep breath, he opened the door. “Morning, Gid,” said Adam Fangman, a large, redheaded man who was

Gideon’s “facility escort,” and accompanied him at all times. Gideon forced a smile but failed to make eye contact. They walked shoulder to shoulder without exchanging a word. Although

similar in height, Adam probably had eighty pounds on Gideon, resembling

a mountain man who had been trapped in a suit and tie. Once he had a cup

of coffee, Gideon checked the emailed itinerary of his day. Similar to his

last few days—a series of training sessions from 7 a. m .

until 6 p. m .

But

today he noticed a meeting set with Waller, whom Gideon had not seen

since the day after he met him. Most trainings consisted of how to handle classified information, use

software, and follow protocol commonly utilized within US government

organizations, along with information concerning what his life would now

be like. After leaving his press deflection training, he and Adam headed to

Waller’s office. Gideon walked through the door, but for the first time in the

last four days, Adam did not follow. Sometimes Gideon actually felt bad for

Adam. Though he occasionally tinkered on his phone, Adam sat through

every boring meeting with Gideon. Waller’s office had more decor than anything Gideon had seen inside the

building so far. It revealed a space that had been occupied by the same

person for many years. Although tidy, the numerous awards, letters, and other small mementos throughout the room made it feel cluttered. After

presenting an awkward smile, Gideon took a seat. “How have you been doing, Gideon?”

“Well, so far all training pretty much just seems like common sense with

a few technical details.”

Waller smiled. “Yeah, I wouldn’t wish that training on my worst enemies. Glad you’re making it through everything. Unfortunately, time isn’t on our

side.”

“When will I understand why that is?” Gideon’s voice rose slightly. The signal had not been mentioned once since his first day in the

Pentagon, where he was questioned about his findings, resources, and

technical questions regarding the blog he posted. After the interrogation,

Gideon was ordered not to talk about the signal to anyone, as the

information was highly classified, even from most people within this

facility. “Soon, Gideon. Your discretion is of the utmost importance, and I

appreciate your cooperation. Once your training and background checks are

complete, in what, four days now?”

“I think so.”

Waller checked his phone. “Yes, in four days you will be officially sworn in and granted top secret

security clearance. You will be held under oath to keep all confidential

information just that way, confidential. We will then hold a briefing with

you and several others going through a similar process, to bring all of you

up to speed.”

“Others have detected this signal, too?”

“Some, yes. But we are primarily pulling in others for their various

expertise in an array of technical fields, not because they had discovered the

signal like you had.”

“So, will I be meeting them?” Gideon asked. Waller shrugged a shoulder and pouted a corner of his lips. “Soon. The process of assembling a new team for a project such as this is

challenging and does take time and patience. Many of them are undergoing

the same training and background checks as you.”

“How many others have picked up the signal?

Did you throw all of them

into jail too and threaten them with charges of murder?” Gideon wasn’t sure if he was finding this amusing yet. “Our intel tells us that a handful of other scientists have detected it. It is

difficult for us to know exactly how many. That said, nobody, as far as we

know, has been able to decipher the signal like you did and therefore didn’t

pose much of a threat leaking anything that would catch the public’s

attention. What you were able to figure out in such a short amount of time

with limited resources was pretty astounding. My team still doesn’t

understand how you did it and is hesitant to believe you were working

alone … I, however, believe you did. An impressive mind you have there,

kid.”

Gideon thought about the mass of writing that had decorated the walls of

his last home, the data that his macro-program had uncovered. He wondered

what other secrets lay in the details that he had not had time to uncover. “Will I be getting my data back?

I want another chance, there must be

more there.”

Waller smiled. “That time will come, trust me. You will be in the middle of this whole

thing very soon.”

“Can you at least confirm who is responsible for the signal?

Is it US or

foreign?”

Waller sighed. “Gideon, you are persistent, I’ll give you that. Your

question is the question we are all trying to figure out. But there are a

couple things you need to understand. First, the US government is not in

control of this situation. If we were, you wouldn’t be here. You’re on the

inside of something with lots of question marks. This is uncharted territory

for us; we are creating new protocols every day and digging up old ones

some of us didn’t even know existed. This operation has two very important

factors: confidentiality and getting answers quickly.”

Gideon nodded. Waller’s face was serious, and Gideon could tell he

wanted to say more but there were obviously restrictions keeping him from

telling Gideon too much. “This isn’t the first time the government has had to deal with something

like this before?” Gideon asked. “Like after 9/11 when you had to create the

entire Department of Homeland Security and the Patriot Act, what makes

this unique to that?”

Waller grimaced. “Yes, but there was a lot of work that went on behind

the scenes from what you saw on the news. This is—” He paused and

looked around. He looked like he wanted to say more. “I’m just saying this

could be a far more complex situation than 9/11 and it’s the unknown that is

causing the highest levels of concern.”

Waller paused and held up two fingers. “And secondly, you’re working with the federal government now. Things

take time and patience. We have to get politicians to work with private

sector experts. We have to get major institutions to play nice with each

other, share information. And we have to do all of this without providing

details into what it is we are actually working on. As you can imagine, this

is proving to be vastly more difficult than we imagined.”

Gideon thought long and hard; he was frustrated that Waller seemed more

concerned, or at least more willing to share the details of political and

policy changes than he was the science. “I have one last question,” Gideon said. “You are a kid with many of those, I am learning,” Waller said and

Gideon felt himself blush. “Once I do get my data back and I am allowed to start working on this …

project. Will I get my personal belongings back?”

“No, Gideon, your phone and laptop will not be returned. But if you need

data from them, we will have a team that can transfer that to you upon your

request,” Waller replied. “More specifically, there was a small copper washer …,” Gideon said, in

a quiet voice. Waller gave Gideon a puzzled look. “What is up with you and that damn washer?” Waller asked. “The day of my brother’s accident, I flew home. They had already

cleared out the garage and pretty much everything in it. But I found the

copper washer from the oil drain bolt lying in the middle of the floor. I’m

pretty sure it was the last thing my brother ever touched, and I have kept it

with me ever since. It helps me think and find clarity in my thoughts.”

Gideon felt a small lump in his throat. Waller paused, thinking for a moment. “Yes, Gideon, we will get that back to you.”

Chapter 9

The conference room had a lofty air to it, as if only the most serious of

business was conducted there. The long table that ran through the middle of

the room was immaculately clean, glistening under the bright overhead

lights. The air-conditioning was set cooler than Gideon thought it should be,

and the crisp room became even colder with each frigid breath he took. It

looked more bare and grim than any room he’d ever been in, completely

empty besides the table, chairs, and the handful of people sitting in them. As Gideon thought about it, he supposed it made sense in a way: a cold,

bare room for serious times and dire discussions. The space contained seven people, including Gideon. Most noticeably

was the man at the front, standing while his dark eyes scanned the room

with intention. Gideon felt as though he recognized him but couldn’t place a

finger on why. The tall man had a broad chest, and his meaty neck was as

wide as his head. His short gray hair was nearly nonexistent on the sides

and grew to only a short buzz cut on the top. Based on his iron-pressed dark

green suit, heavily decorated with medals and rank insignia, it was clear the

man’s involvement was military, not science. To Gideon’s right sat a man and a woman, each wearing the same white

shirt and khaki pants, leading to his assumption they were there under the

same conditions as himself. The man was short and had a darker

complexion. The woman had thick, shoulder-length hair, brown and a little

frizzy. Several silver curls were sprinkled throughout. All three of them exchanged glances. They seemingly were suspicious of

Gideon just as he was of them. Gideon wanted to introduce himself, hoping

to learn from his colleagues. However, the tone of the room told him this

was not appropriate. Directly to his left, per usual, was Adam Fangman, who still monitored

Gideon closely even after being sworn in. Gideon made note that the other

two did not appear to have a security guard watching their every move. Across the table sat Waller, who nodded in his direction. Somehow the

simple gesture settled Gideon’s nerves. The man in the military suit clapped

his hands together hard to gain the attention of the room. Gideon noticed the skin wrapping his thick fingers was weathered and rough, resembling

the hands of a mechanic or other labor trade. “Welcome, I am General John Higgens.” The booming voice matched his

masculine features. “I flew in overnight from a secure location that you will soon be very

familiar with. You are all here because of certain circumstances and you

have been given the chance to work in conjunction with a very special

team. The unprecedented nature of why we are here today has forced us into

some—unusual recruitment practices. The specific nature of who you are

and how you became a part of this team does not matter at this point. Time

is of the essence. You will have plenty of time to get to know one another in

the near future. So, please, pay attention and we’ll make the most of our

time today. I oversee Operation SD: Signal Decipher, code-named San

Diego.”

Higgens cleared his throat and continued. “On June 13, a United States Navy surveillance submarine, the USS Dark

Water, picked up an unexpected signal. This signal was immediately

classified as a URF, unregulated frequency. After logging it, our team

confirmed it as artificial in nature, meaning not your typical space noise. Furthermore, our team was able to show that the URF was originating from

a location within our solar system. Whoever is producing the URF is using

advanced technologies and does not have any registration with the Federal

Communications Commission or the National Telecommunications and

Information Administration to broadcast within the discovered frequencies,

which automatically makes this a highly classified objective and an

escalated priority for the US government. A team of radio frequency

engineers has worked diligently to intercept and decode the signal. We were

unsuccessful in understanding the meaning or communicating with the

URF. That is, until Mr. Haas, here”—he gestured toward Gideon—“got

involved independently and recognized the pattern as a representation of

molecular properties of elements.”

Gideon was surprised to hear his name mentioned and sat up straighter in

his chair. “Now, we are calling the origin point of this signal, X0-5.

We have not

been able to confirm what X0-5 is but hypothesize it to be some type of

spacecraft or probe. What is very startling, is that X0-5 is not moving away from us, as you would expect with any craft launched from Earth. Its

location, in fact, is in a massive geosynchronous orbit with Earth meaning it

appears stationary from our orientation.”

Gideon felt a sense of pride that he had correctly determined this back at

Green Bank. “For those of you unfamiliar with geosynchronous orbits, they only occur

naturally at thirty-six thousand kilometers from Earth where they are in

perfect balance of the Earth’s gravitational pull and orbital velocity. The

orbit we are seeing is just past the Asteroid Belt, a region of asteroids in our

solar system over 650 million kilometers from Earth.”

The general paused, then spoke his next sentence with slow staccato,

emphasizing every word. “This means that X0-5 must be utilizing constant thrust to keep its

location steady.”

An outrageous amount of thrust, Gideon’s thoughts responded. “No known spacecrafts or probes of the United States, NASA, or any

other known missions across the globe have come close to the thrust ability

it would take to travel out to the Asteroid Belt and then change its trajectory

from moving away from Earth to a geosynchronous orbit around Earth. An

orbit like this does not happen naturally, as Earth’s gravitational pull on an

object that far away is negligible.”

Everyone shifted uncomfortably in their seats. “The possibility that another country or company could have developed

this technology and launched it into space, completely undetected for its

entire journey, is highly concerning and seemingly implausible. With the

ambiguity surrounding Operation SD, we have an executive order from the

president of the United States to bring in a much wider range of

professionals, which is why this team sits here today. You all are here to

bring in fresh minds specializing in radio frequency, astrophysicists and

linguists.”

There was another stir in the room after the word linguists. “No, we are not looking for ET out there, but per protocol, we will be

prepared for anything that could come our way.”

Anything, thought Gideon, as his mind reverted back to the plausible

explanations he had written across the walls of his Airbnb. One of which

was exactly that: “ET,” an intelligent being, not from Earth. The words hung in the air like a thick fog. Everyone sat frozen this time,

digesting Higgens’s words, trying to logically conclude what the

implication could mean. Trying to process. Higgens went on to explain, for the next thirty minutes, the overall goals

of what they were trying to do. He went over all data expressing what the

government had already done, had already tried to do and was currently

trying. It became clear to Gideon why he was involved; most of the data

was directly from his very own findings. “We must reach a conclusion soon, and that means we need facts. X0-5 is

too far away to observe with telescopes, so we must find a way to prove

what it is, where it’s coming from, and what its purpose is. Then, we must

find a way to interfere or communicate with it. We need answers and we

need them now.”

“Your first assignment”—Higgens put down his notes and looked at each

of them—“is to provide logical explanations to this mess of chaos. We

currently have over seventeen different committees going in a variety of

different directions. We need to start with getting some outside eyes, your

eyes, on all the data and providing a clear path forward. We are confident

you can come up with some solutions or at least some theories. But we

cannot waste time on fanciful options. We’re not looking for creativity. We’re looking for solid solutions from hard data. If we detect you are

wasting time, you will be cut from the program.”

Gideon swallowed. Chapter 10

The Gulfstream IV ascended steeply into the morning sky. The day was

clear and presented an incredible view of DC. The rising sun danced across

the water of the Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool. Gideon leaned forward,

expanding his view out the window, watching the ground slowly pass by. The Washington Monument cast a long shadow on the green grass. He

could just make out the city’s early risers heading out on their morning jogs

and errands. The interior of the small jet was elegantly upholstered but surprisingly

worn. The walls were an off-white with dark wooden borders throughout. It

contained ten navy blue leather seats, all with the ability to swivel 180

degrees to face toward or away from each other. Seven of the ten seats were

filled, including the two other individuals Gideon recognized from

yesterday’s briefing, plus Waller, a security officer, and two men near the

front who had been engaged in a deep conversation since the beginning of

the flight. The jet leveled out and set course for San Antonio. After yesterday’s

meeting, the team was notified they would be leaving the next day for

Lackland Air Force Base in Texas, home of Operation SD. Waller swiveled his seat to face Gideon and the man and woman,

gesturing for them to turn toward him. “So, tell me,” said Waller with a grin. “How does it feel?”

Gideon sat there in silence for a moment, not sure what Waller was

talking about nor how to respond. A quick glance at the man and woman

next to him told him they were just as puzzled. Waller winked. “Don’t worry, it’s a compliment. What the three of you

are involved in now is one of the most high-profile projects the US is

working on. Consequently, your government saw fit to assemble a select

group of exceptional civilians for this task. And guess what?

That group is

none other than you, my friends.”

Gideon and the two others glanced around at one another. Gideon wondered how his two new colleagues felt about all this. He

himself was surprised, proud, and just a little bit scared. There was a feeling of pressure and responsibility on his shoulders. The US government was

taking a chance on him, expecting results. But what if he wasn’t as helpful

as they thought he’d be?

What if he let his entire country down?

Gideon looked around. “But there are more of us, right?”

Waller nodded. “Well, yes and no. There are plenty more government

staff working on this, yes. But as far as the outside experts, you’re it. And to

be quite honest, the other experts and leaders in this field who have already

been working with the government are not exactly excited to see three

outsiders come in and get all this access.”

“What do you mean?” Gideon asked, quickly feeling uncomfortable as a

person who didn’t particularly enjoy conflict. “People have been working around the clock, trying to make progress. Bringing in new people can give the impression they failed.” Waller paused

and then held up a hand. “That is why we have a chain of command in

place. You three need to do your thing. Don’t worry about anything else. I’ll

handle all of that.”

“What about the others?” the woman asked. “I was under the impression

there were others in the private sector who had detected the signal and were

involved.”

“About that.” Waller looked down. “Let’s just say not everyone passed

the background check if you know what I mean. We do have other civilians

working on different levels, but it is safe to say that you three are the best of

the best. Congratulations.” He held out his hands. The three looked at one another. The woman nodded. “I’d pop a bottle of champagne for you if I had one.” Waller was

chuckling. “But that might give you the wrong idea. Consider yourselves special, but

not lucky. It’s not all going to be fun and games. Your lives, as you know

them, are over. And that can be good or bad, depending on how you see it. But your new lives”—Waller cleared his throat—“are all that matter now. And you’re really living for something now. Something bigger than

yourself. Something more important than the very air you breathe.”

“And, what’s that?” Gideon dared, regretting it as soon as the words left

his mouth. But Waller only shrugged. “Ensuring the safety of humanity.”

Gideon and the two others nodded. “Good. I have a folder for each of you. Most of each folder contains

identical information. This information, of course, is highly confidential and

for your eyes only. Packet A gives a summary of Higgens’s briefing

yesterday and contains a link to the audio file if you would like to listen to

it again. Packet B highlights all additional data that we know at this time. It

may be overwhelming at first, and admittedly we don’t know what

everything means within the data. That is why you are here. Packet C gives

details of your own personal objectives, ID numbers, living quarters,

etcetera. Finally, the appendix in the back gives you details of all team

members currently working on Operation SD. This information has also

been sent to the email address that has been assigned to you and can be

found in packet C.”

Gideon thumbed through the immense folder, slightly amused that it

really did have a big red Top Secret watermark across every page, just like

in the movies. Reaching the back of the packet, he noticed the long list of

names; at least one hundred people were assigned. “More people than I was expecting,” he remarked. “Like I said, lots of people are involved but there are many different

levels. You three are at the top level. You will have access to all the data

you need but we are keeping it compartmentalized so no one person has

access to everything. This is a strategy we use on top secret programs to

limit the possibility of a whistleblower.”

“So, that means we’ll be working in silos?” Gideon asked. “No, as I said, compartmentalizing. You three will have access to

essentially whatever you need. Everyone else, not so much. Intel leakage

and operational security are our top priorities here. As mentioned yesterday,

we are in a serious time crunch to make sense of all this. President Helland

is not going to support keeping this from the public much longer; she is

ready to pull the trigger on informing SETI and UNOOSA, per established

protocol. Once that happens, this investigation goes public, spawning

organizations specializing in the search for extraterrestrial life … well I’ll

let you use your imagination on how that’d work out in the public arena. That said, Higgens and I will continue to throw people and resources at this

until we can get an understanding of what we’re dealing with. We’ll be

landing in about two hours. Get to work.” He nodded at the packets. “Oh and, Gideon,” Waller said. Gideon looked up and saw Waller reach into his chest shirt pocket and

pull out a small flat object, flicking it off his thumb in Gideon’s direction,

like flipping a coin. Gideon caught it and felt a sense of ease come over him

as he saw the small copper washer, now resting in his palm. “Thanks,” Gideon said with a nod. The other two scientists looked

puzzled by what had just happened. Waller simply nodded, rose from his

seat and took another near the front of the aircraft. Gideon turned back

toward the others and made an attempt at a confident smile, but his face did

something different. Fortunately, the others looked equally uncomfortable. “I’m Gideon,” he finally said. After twice speaking over each other and then immediately stopping, the

man gave his name. “Rajit, originally from India, but I’ve been living in Tennessee the last six

years.” His warm smile immediately gave Gideon a feeling of trust. Rajit was a shorter man with a round face, no more than five foot six. His

black tight-fitting jeans gave his legs an unusually thin look in relation to

his relatively pear-shaped upper half. His jet-black hair was deliberately

parted and combed with what seemed like an excessive amount of gel. He

wore a large gold watch on his left wrist. The woman spoke next. “Linda, grew up in LA; I work as a linguist

professor at Stanford.” Linda carried a very professional demeanor. Her

wavy dark brown hair was thick and wiry, held up on one side with a bobby

pin and revealing her prominent cheekbones. Her skin was lighter than

Gideon would have expected from someone who lived in California and her

frame was thin. Both Gideon and Rajit perked up. “So, you’re the linguist … what do you take from all this?” Gideon

asked. “Do you really think people could be considering this to be

nonhuman in origin?”

Gideon noticed Rajit shift uncomfortably in his seat and shift his gaze to

the window. Linda shrugged. “My job, I suspect, won’t be to determine whether this is

or is not a nonhuman. But if it is, I would imagine my role would be

learning how to communicate with the being, assuming that it does not

know any Earth languages.” Linda paused, clearly deep in thought. “Which I must say, is pretty hard to wrap my head around. And I

suppose, Gideon, if I did have to take a guess on whether I think people

really are considering that this could be nonhuman in origin, I would have

to say yes. If not, I’m not sure they would be spending the money and

resources to fly me on this ridiculous private jet to a military base.” She

paused again. Gideon appreciated that she spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words. Fitting for a linguist. “Waller has made it clear, however, that no contact has been made. So,

Gideon, I think that’s your role, right?

Where are you from?” Linda shifted

her gaze in his direction. Gideon explained his history and how he had detected the URF from

Green Bank Observatory. Both showed intense interest. Rajit spoke up next. “Last couple years I’ve been performing research at

Vanderbilt University—”

“Wait a minute,” Gideon interrupted. “Aren’t you the one who was

awarded the recent Nobel Prize in Physics?

For the …what was it again?”

Rajit’s light brown face flushed a shade of red. “Yes, I’ve been

conducting research in theoretical physics and its effects on organic matter

for many years. I actually started the research in India, seeing if I could take

Dewey Larson’s material further, trying to understand gravity and what we

are calling ‘n’ dimensions. The Nobel was awarded for my paper regarding

the kinetic theory of matter.”

Gideon and Linda sat in silence for a few minutes, digesting this as Rajit

tried to explain the basics of his research. “What about you, Linda?” Gideon shifted the conversation after Rajit had

clearly lost momentum in getting them to understand the influence of a

vacuum on antigenic particles. “Well, I haven’t won any Nobel Prizes, that’s for sure.” Linda smiled. “As I mentioned, I’m a professor, but really just in my spare time in order

to keep my research privileges at Stanford. My primary goal is to

understand and find ways to teach languages to non-speaking persons. These could be individuals who don’t speak because of mental limitations

or those who have never been introduced to modern language, which you

may be surprised is more common than you may think.”

“A linguist—how many languages do you speak?” Rajit asked. “Hindi,

by any chance?”

“Haan, main hindee bolata hoon, kya app?” Linda replied with a bit of a

smug smile. Rajit laughed in delight. “Hann!”

“I speak thirty-seven different languages fluently; I’ve studied them my

whole life. It’s funny, since I was a little kid, I was fascinated by all the

different ways people and even animals communicate with one another. Now, I travel around the world decoding and learning about Indigenous

languages and communication. I’ve been creating automated programs for

teaching language with a new technique engaging the subconscious mind,

just as children learn. Similar to the way I first learned when I grew up in

Brazil as a missionary kid, mastering English and Portuguese by the time I

was four.” Linda smiled. “The method is pretty straightforward, but it’s

been challenging creating a learning program effective for everyone.”

Rajit rubbed his chin in an animated fashion. “Out of curiosity, where do your grants come from?

Finding the money to

conduct research is one of the hardest parts, and from what I’ve heard,

linguistics is a sector that is struggling.”

Linda paused for a few seconds. “Well, perhaps that is the most interesting part. About five years back, I

was approached by a member of DARPA. They as—”

“Sorry, but who … what is DARPA?” Gideon asked. “DARPA, or the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, is a

division of the Department of Defense that conducts advanced research and

development projects, including some related to space exploration and

technology that could have implications for detecting or communicating

with extraterrestrial civilizations.”

Linda paused, collecting her thoughts. Again, Rajit seemed to be

uncomfortable at the mention of extraterrestrials. “As I was saying, a representative from DARPA contacted me asking if I

would accept a grant from DARPA under certain conditions. I was, of

course, confused at first. Why would a division of our government, military

at that, care about my linguistics work?

Well, long story short, they wanted

to provide a large grant in exchange for a signed retainer stating that in the event of contact with intelligent life outside of our planet, I would support

efforts by establishing contact using what I had gained from my research.”

Gideon and Rajit digested this information. The Department of Defense

had a linguist on retainer?

Was the possibility of this being alien actually

being considered?

“Do you … really think that’s why you’re here?

Because DARPA wants

to use your linguistics research?” Rajit said quietly, almost as if he didn’t

want anyone else on the small aircraft to hear. “I don’t know. I asked Waller if this was related to that agreement I

signed, and he said no. But I would have to imagine that is how they got my

name and involved me into this project.”

Conversations flowed for some time, and Gideon was surprised when his

brain’s dorsal stream let him know that the plane had begun to descend. Waller looked back and tapped the seat belt across his waist. Gideon and the

team took the hint and clipped their belts as they dove through the

intermittent fluffy clouds. Looking out the window, he was surprised by the

amount of green that surrounded the suburbs of San Antonio. As they

cleared the clouds, the airplane banked to the right, and Gideon could see

what he assumed was Lackland Air Force Base. A spike of adrenaline hit

his nervous system. Chapter 11

Crickets began their symphony as darkness engulfed the air force base. Gideon walked next to Rajit, confirming his short stature. They had been

placed just two doors apart in their sleeping quarters. Their assigned rooms were similar to those in the Pentagon. Each had a

twin spring mattress with white linens, and a small bedside stand with a

lamp and digital alarm clock. “Warm out here,” Rajit said. “No kidding. This is my first time in Texas, actually.” Gideon smiled. “Although, this can’t be too bad compared to India …”

Rajit laughed. “I think this heat would even put New Delhi to shame,” Rajit joked. Even

though the air temperature had cooled to the mid-eighties, the heat could

still be felt radiating off the blacktop they walked across. “Do you have a family?” Gideon asked. Rajit seemed to bow his head a little and then lifted it again, shaking side

to side. “No, I was supposed to be in an arranged marriage; that’s how things are

done in India, but I got cold feet the day before and left for the city. This

was taken as a huge disgrace and got me expelled from the family. I’ve only

recently begun talking with my father again. I think that is why I got so

submerged in academics; it was an escape for me. How about yourself?”

“No … not even a thought of marriage … so I suppose you’re technically

ahead of me.” Gideon winked. “Hey, maybe some single ladies on this

adventure?”

Rajit blushed and chuckled. “I always did want to go to the YMCA

summer camps. Maybe I need to start looking at this thing a different way.”

They both laughed before noticing the guard tailing them. They were

immediately impressed with the seriousness of the situation again. After

arriving at the base, with the exception of being inside his room, there was

always a security officer, fully armed with what looked like an M-16 and a

combat helmet, within eyesight. A figure, slightly silhouetted in the darkness by the fluorescent white

light from one of the nearby buildings, walked toward them. “Gideon?

Rajit?” a woman’s voice called out. Gideon lifted his hand and

waved as Linda joined them, looking uneasy. “Headed to the mess hall?” she asked. Gideon and Rajit nodded. Once they had gotten settled in at the base, the group had been escorted

to a conference room where they were briefed on the protocol of Lackland

Air Force Base. One of the rules was they were not allowed to leave the

base without an escort, which meant strictly enjoying the widely acclaimed

excellence of the base’s “mess hall,” or cafeteria. After dishing himself some refried beans, slightly wilted Caesar salad,

and a bowl of chili, which seemed a bit redundant with his refried beans,

Gideon followed Rajit and Linda to one of the metal tables. Linda had

chosen to fill both her plates with salad, and after giving the chili a second

look, he figured that would have been the safer option. “So, Linda, Rajit here was almost married and I haven’t been lucky

enough yet to come close,” said Gideon with a laugh. “How about you?

Married?

Any kids?”

Linda speared her fork through a wilted lettuce leaf. “Yes, and yes. I met

my wife when I studied in Ecuador; we fell in love right away, but it took us

years to act on it. She moved up to LA just seven years ago and we got

married the day she arrived.”

“And you said you have kids as well?” Gideon asked her. “Do dogs count?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said Rajit, and Gideon nodded in agreement. Linda chuckled. “Well, we have a daughter named Matilda, and I’ve got two rotties: Roxy

and Bear.” A solemn look passed over her face, as if maybe she was

considering, for the first time since she’d gotten into this top secret affair,

that she might not see them for a very long time. “Wow, rottweilers,” said Gideon. “Big, scary dogs!” Rajit added. Linda sucked her teeth. “They’re both big babies, wouldn’t hurt a fly. They only look scary, trust me.”

“At least they look the part,” said Gideon, eyeing his chili and noticing it

looked more questionable the more he examined it. “A nice deterrent if anyone thinks about breaking in.”

“Yeah, and if anyone did, Roxy and Bear would probably lick them to

death,” said Linda. The three shared a laugh. “So, Gideon, tell me what made you notice this particular signal?

What

made it classified as a URF, as they are calling it?” Linda asked. “For me, it was really three things. Firstly, the signal is narrowband;

second—”

“I’m a linguist, Gideon, I need you to make me understand why these

things are important … pretend I know nothing about radio frequencies.”

Gideon’s face flushed, but he continued. “Well, narrowband is very

interesting because it almost definitely rules out that it comes from a natural

source. For instance, typical space noise coming from natural sources like

stars, black holes, and other cosmic phenomena produces a large range of

frequencies. However, artificial or ‘man-made’ technology has allowed us

to be able to produce and send data on very narrow frequency ranges. A

great example of this is radio stations.” Gideon took a bite of chili. “So basically, natural frequencies are more sporadic and irregular

compared to artificial sources?” Rajit asked. “Essentially, yes. So, when I picked this signal up and saw it was running

in an incredibly narrow frequency range, it piqued my interest.” Gideon

paused to ensure Rajit and Linda were following along. Linda’s fork, still

loaded with some sagging lettuce, hadn’t moved since he started talking; he

figured this was an indication of her engagement. “I was able to tell, through some refinement and creative computer

algorithms, that the signal was not local. Now getting the exact location of

where something is coming from requires triangulation, but I was able to

use some techniques to determine a rough approximation of location and

distance, which revealed two things: A—it is not coming from a planetary

body and is just outside the Asteroid Belt; and B—it appears to be in

geosynchronous orbit, meaning its orientation to the Earth’s surface is not

changing. This is huge, as literally nothing is in geosynchronous orbit

relative to Earth that far away. There was no way this was a natural

phenomenon.”

“Don’t we have tons of satellites in geosynchronous orbit?” Linda teased

herself with the first bite of salad. “Absolutely, a great example is satellite television or the Internet. That is

how we are able to point the dish mounted on your house directly at the

specific satellite in the sky and it never needs to move. However, those

satellites accomplish this by finding the perfect balance between speed and

distance from Earth. As Higgens mentioned, this can only happen, without

external thrust, at about thirty-six thousand kilometers. For something

roughly 630 million kilometers away to pull this off … I can’t even

comprehend the amount of thrust that would require.” Gideon put his spoon

down. “At least 2.27 million newtons of continuous thrust, not to mention, it

would be traveling at 45,800,000 meters per second, which is over 15% the

speed of light… more than two hundred times faster than any spacecraft

we’ve ever built,” Rajit added. “I ran some quick calculations. Obviously, I

had to make an array of assumptions, like the mass of the signal-producing

object — er, X0-5.

I’m still getting used to these names. That amount of

thrust and speed is just unheard of. Back in the early 2000s, NASA

prototyped a rocket capable of nearly 9 million newtons of thrust, the

highest number mankind has ever achieved, as far as I know. Although

that’s more than X0-5, it was only for a very short duration. X0-5 is

utilizing continuous thrust, meaning it needs to produce that much force the

entire time, not just a short burst like the rockets we launch. The amount of

fuel alone… it doesn’t add up.” Rajit’s brows furrowed. “There must be some other explanation, right?” Linda asked. Gideon shook his head slowly. “That is all I have been able to think

about, Linda. I’ve only been able to come up with two plausible theories:

either it’s human technology that was kept a secret for decades, or, as crazy

as it sounds, extraterrestrial.” Gideon still experienced a zing of shock every

time the words “extraterrestrial” were spoken. The group of three sat in silence for a moment, thinking. “Hard to fathom, an intelligent species that likely developed with a

completely different set of rules,” Linda said, finally biting the lettuce off

her fork. “If we can understand why and how X0-5 is accomplishing that

orientation, it will tell us a lot,” Gideon said. “What about you, Linda?

Anything new?” Rajit asked as he forked some

salad into his mouth. “Well, yes.” Linda set down her fork and her eyes lit up. “Actually, the

data definitely shows some strong signs of a systematic organizational

structure. But there is nothing proven yet.” She shrugged. “It passed all tests

from the bilateral linguistics approaches and passed seventy-eight percent

of all fully mathematical, psychological and sociological aspects of

formalist and structuralist theory and—”

“Whoa, whoa.” Gideon held up a hand. “You’re going to have to break

that down a bit just like you asked me to earlier. Pretend I don’t know

anything about linguists, which I really don’t compared to you.”

Linda pulled out her phone and found some notes. “Think of it this way:

Our first step is to give some kind of statistical likelihood that the signal is

either in the camp of structural linguistics or some other form of pattern

recognition. Pattern recognition is just a relationship between stimulus and

information.”

“But don’t we already see patterns in the signal?” Rajit asked. “Yes, but that’s what I’m saying. We have to determine if the pattern has

intentional information behind it that can be decoded. Or if it is a longer,

larger sample that only looks like it is intelligent. Which would place it in

the Apophenia or Pareidolia theories. The problem is we need more data to

confirm. We have no frame of reference right now.”

“So,” Rajit said, “it’s kind of like trying to put together a puzzle where

we have no picture on the box to see what our goal is. And all the pieces are

painted solid black.”

“Not only that,” Linda said. “It’s like we don’t know if we have all the

pieces or if we have parts of multiple puzzles that don’t go together.”

“How do you even begin that process?” Gideon asked. “There are six primary theories of pattern recognition. And there is some

hope. So far, the signal has made the most progress down the models of

template matching, prototype matching and feature analysis. I’m making

progress; it’s just slow. It is like looking at each individual puzzle piece and

calculating the probability that it could go with one of the other pieces. And

you can only do that by holding it up to every single piece, one at a time.”

Her eyes lit up when she found something else on her phone. “But check

this out. After running a bunch of proprietary pattern detection software that

Waller finally gave me access to, along with some other algorithms on the

URF, I was able to decipher a pattern. It seems like there are some additional embedded patterns in the signal. We just need to figure out what

they are trying to say.”

All three stiffened in their seats, pushing their food around, brains clearly

trying to find a logical explanation. Just as Gideon had been trying to do for

the past several weeks. Chapter 12

With Operation SD being placed at the heart of an air force base, the

constant rumble of F-16s taking off for practice flights shook the small

building that Gideon had spent the majority of the last couple of days in. The computer lab, which looked similar to a mobile home made out of

sheet metal, had been converted into a highly confidential research center

adjacent to a larger, single-floor structure—the SD headquarters. Upon his arrival, all of his data and findings from Green Bank had been

returned to him. Now armed with massive amounts of computer power,

numerous other highly skilled radio frequency technicians, and the original

data acquired by the navy, Gideon meticulously ran different filters to try

and make sense of the URF, which was still producing the exact same

frequencies since it started. Several attempts had been made to communicate with X0-5 using the

communication array on base. However, none had resulted in any change of

the URF. No matter what they did, X0-5 just continued broadcasting the

same message. Gideon leaned back in his chair in frustration when a bright

light hit his eye, blinding him and intensifying his already pulsating

headache. Gideon leaned forward and the bright light went away. Annoyed, he

looked around for the source, but the gray fabric-covered partition wall of

his cubicle blocked his ability to see any of his surroundings. Looking

behind him, he now saw the small patch of white light on the back wall of

his cube, shifting around. He stood and looked in the opposite direction of the light spot and

noticed Rajit standing at the whiteboard, scribbling down theories. His

watch, catching the sun, reflected the light directly back into Gideon’s face. “Rajit!”

Rajit looked over his shoulder. “Your watch is killing me over here,” Gideon said, half joking, half

serious. Rajit, at first puzzled until he saw the intense reflected light dancing

around the room and Gideon’s face, blushed slightly and removed the watch. “Thanks,” Gideon said, but he did not sit, suddenly deep in thought. “Anything else?” Rajit tried to deduce why Gideon was blankly staring at

him. “Your … watch …,” Gideon replied. “I took it off, it’s there.” Rajit pointed at the large gold watch lying face

down on the table next to him. “That’s it—reflection!

That’s the third plausible explanation. It’s not an

unmanned craft or an extraterrestrial signal.” Gideon jumped to his feet and

ran to Rajit, snatching a red dry-erase marker. “Have you ever heard of meteor burst radio communication?” Gideon

gained the attention of the room. Rajit shook his head no, but other RF

engineers gave Gideon their full attention. “Meteor burst radio communication is actually old technology, used way

back in the 1960s.”

“Hey now, watch what you call old; I was born in the ’60s!” one of the

older engineers interrupted. “Sorry … anyway, the concept was used when needing to send a radio

signal to a location far enough away that the curvature of the Earth would

interfere with the direct path, or perhaps a mountain range, say from Seattle

to Colorado. Instead of relaying the message through a series of tower

repeaters, you can send the signal up into the meteor dust region that

surrounds Earth. Due to this region’s high volume of reflective particles, the

radio frequency will be partially reflected back down to Earth, allowing it to

reach Colorado. Just as your watch is reflecting the light of the sun to a

specific location in which the sunlight can’t directly reach. This technology

is pretty outdated, because we now just use satellites to do the reflecting …

but perhaps someone is developing a method of bouncing signals off of the

Asteroid Belt instead of our Earth’s smaller meteor belt?”

An older RF engineer was already working on the whiteboard, running

off Gideon’s concept. He looked at Gideon. “What advantage would anyone have with bouncing signals off the

Asteroid Belt?

It would create a massive delay,” the engineer said. “One potential advantage could be to make contact with the dark side of

planets. I read a research paper once regarding using reflection to communicate with the dark side, or radio silent, side of the moon,” a thirty-

something engineer named George piped up. “I think the moon is the only celestial body that is tidally locked to Earth,

correct?” Gideon asked, looking around the room. Hoping one of the

astronomy experts was nearby. “He’s right; the phenomenon known as tidal locking occurs when a

celestial body’s rotation period is equal to its orbital period, causing the

same side of the object to always face the body it is orbiting. The moon is

tidally locked to Earth, which is why we always see the same face of the

moon from Earth. I don’t believe there are any other planets or celestial

bodies that exhibit this orientation toward Earth.”

“But why would you need to send a signal to the dark side of the moon?

Maybe they know we aren’t looking for these signals, who knows?” Gideon

scratched his head. “But it’s the only thing that makes sense, right?

The

URF is not actually originating from X0-5, but simply being reflected from

that location. This explains why it would be in geosynchronous orbit;

something that is pointed at the sky from a fixed location on Earth is always

pointing to the same spot in relation to Earth, just as a TV satellite dish is

always pointed at its associated geosynchronous satellite.” Gideon looked

satisfied. “I’ll get Higgens in here. Let’s run with this.” The older engineer capped

his marker. “George, start searching for similar frequency patterns at

surface-level planes. If that signal really is a reflection, then it is being sent

from somewhere on Earth.”

“Or a satellite,” Gideon said. “True, nice work, Gideon.” The older engineer took his leave. “And if it is a reflection …,” Gideon pondered aloud. “What could it be?”

Rajit glanced over at Gideon, and the two locked eyes for a moment, their

minds searching for answers. Gideon’s thumb began rubbing the smooth

surface of the copper washer. “If the signal is coming from Earth …,” Gideon started. “And the United States obviously doesn’t know who’s responsible for it,

or we wouldn’t be here,” Rajit picked up. “Then that means it must be coming from another country,” Gideon

finished. “Then why would another country …” Rajit trailed off, his eyes falling to

the floor as he thought. “Some of the possibilities are a bit unnerving.”

Gideon nodded. The two stood there quietly for a moment, perhaps considering the

gravity of the words they had spoken. Gideon’s mind raced. He pondered

what this could mean, what other findings might be on the horizon. Had

they really just solved the root of this discovery, or was it the complete

opposite?

Could it be, Gideon wondered as he glanced at his colleague

Rajit, that they were just getting started?

There could be so much more going on here. He wanted more answers. He wondered what was more threatening to the world: aliens or some

human organization potentially communicating to the dark side of the moon

or some other celestial body, potentially a secret military base that nobody

else could ever see or discover. Both gave him the feeling that this could be

the biggest threat to national security the United States, maybe the world,

had likely ever faced. Chapter 13

Looking out the window, Higgens noticed the heat waves rippling across

the tarmac, making him relieved to be sitting in the air-conditioned

conference room. He was the only one occupying the small space. His

attention was drawn back as Waller’s voice emerged from the phone

speaker in the center of the brown laminate table. Waller and Higgens had

known each other for many years, originally meeting almost twenty-five

years ago. Still, over the years, the two seemed to be in a constant state of

flux as to who was in charge of whom. “I told you there was a good reason to keep Gideon engaged in the

project.” Waller sounded arrogant. “I’ll buy you a beer,” Higgens replied only half sincerely. “What is the

word now?”

“You first.”

“I debriefed the MOPSD team; they have concluded that this new

development has only complicated the situation. We will continue the top

secret security level until we gather more information, are able to prove the

theory, and locate who it is working on this technology.”

The phone was silent for five full seconds. Waller always took his time to

respond when he was thinking. Higgens let out an audible sigh, loud

enough for Waller to hear. “The White House isn’t pleased. At least not about the amount of wasted

resources and risk of exposure to hiding a secret like this …” Waller

paused. “I think we are all a bit relieved, and perhaps laughing at ourselves

for having thought this could be … aliens.” Waller let out a gentle chuckle. “Fuck, I hope we will look back at this shitshow and laugh someday.”

“Don’t you dare call my operation a shitshow, Waller,” Higgens spat

back. Waller again allowed there to be an obnoxiously long pause before

continuing, unapologetically. “That said, the potential that this is a human organization escalates the

potential of malintent. Not to mention how they were able to get this far

without us detecting anything. From a strategic standpoint, continuing top secret is approved; we cannot afford to make any more mistakes. The White

House needs answers and proof beyond doubt that meteor burst reflection

is, in fact, how the URF is being produced. The main questions being asked

are: Who is testing this technology, why are they testing this technology, is

this technology malicious, and why has the US not pursued this ourselves?”

Waller stated. “One theory being developed is that using a reflection point far away, like

the Asteroid Belt, allows you to send a signal to the ‘dark side’ of any

planetary body,” Higgens explained the illustrations that had been drawn up

for him just thirty minutes before. “But who and why, Higgens?

Nobody has communication stations on the

dark side of any planetary bodies,” Waller barked through the phone. “Not that we know of, Waller; that is what we are working to figure out. The team is running simulations to determine which planetary objects are

moving between the Earth and X0-5 and rotating in a way that one side

always faces Earth; currently the moon seems to be a likely option. The

concern is that if someone is building a planetary base, this would give

them a huge military advantage. There is nothing protecting us from strikes

coming from space.”

“What on Earth are you talking about?

How could somebody possibly be

building a fuckin’ moon space base without anyone knowing?” Waller was getting frustrated by the continual barrage of what felt like far-fetched

science fiction answers to this anomaly. Higgens let out a long sigh, clearly disturbed by the same feelings. “I don’t know, Waller, but until we can find a way to disprove a theory,

we have to consider it possible.” Higgens paused for a moment and Waller

knew there was more to come. “Were you involved in the Alcântara Escalation?” Higgens asked, his

tone more quiet than before. “You’re talking like ten or more years ago?” Waller asked. “Yes,” Higgens replied. “No, I was never given clearance. You think they could be related?”

“Too soon to tell but during the Alcântara Escalation, the US discovered

the Indian Space Research Organization or the ISRO was sending large

packages to Brazil off the books. More specifically, they were sending them

to Alcântara where the Brazilian Space Agency has the ability to launch

rockets into orbit or beyond. We intercepted several communications

between Brazilian leadership and India that indicated there was a level of

pay-off and corruption happening. Long story short, Brazil launched several

rockets we believed were carrying the unknown ISRO payloads. We raided

Alcântara and had to work hard to keep that from becoming public but were

never able to uncover the nature of what the payloads were.” Higgens’s face

had a stern look. “Jesus, do we have a way to see if anyone has landed something on the

moon?” Waller asked. “It’s not as easy as you would think; we’re working on it,” Higgens

replied. Waller was silent for a moment. “Well, we will keep confidentiality high. We are not able to ask Canada, Mexico, or India for that matter, directly if

they are the originators, since we are keeping this top secret. The White

House has authorized you to broadcast a signal back to X0-5 with a

message stating we have intercepted and must have confirmation of origin. I’ll send the full details over SecuraMessage.”

“Roger that,” Higgens replied, glad the decision had been made to

confront versus take a back seat and let the researchers run in circles. “Anything else?”

“Nope, talk soon, no doubt.” Higgens hit the red hang-up button. After leaving the small conference room, Higgens walked into the

relentless sun. Beads of sweat immediately formed on his brow. He cursed

under his breath and released the top clasp of his white pressed shirt. The walk between buildings took several minutes but felt longer. When

he finally reached the mobile home of the research lab, his shirt was

speckled with droplets of perspiration. As soon as Higgens entered, the well-trained team snapped to attention. Higgens scanned the room; just his presence in the room gained everyone’s

diligent focus. “Team, as you know, a recent development has produced a new theory on

the URF and how it is being produced. Possibility and likelihood point

toward this being a long-distance meteor burst reflection. We do not know

who is responsible nor why, and that is now our primary mission. Once we

are able to confirm who the originator is, then the intention of this operation

will be concluded, and it will be transferred to our internal relations division

of the military. With that said, we will keep all staff on site until we secure

this confirmation. We have a time slot for a deep space communications

antenna at Goldstone Observatory the day after tomorrow at 0130 hours to

send a message back; this will be our first time authorized to use an antenna

of this size. Let’s hope we are able to get this message to stick. The contents

of the message will be provided by our international relations department. Your main job here is to encode the message and get everything lined up for

the send. Further details to come. Questions?”

Chapter 14

The energy shifted through the facility after the conclusion of Higgens’s

briefing on the meteor burst theory. Much of the confusion and distrust that

filled the air at the beginning had begun to dissipate. People began to settle

into their roles now that they understood the scope of how they could help

in each of their areas of expertise. The team became laser-focused now that there were clear objectives. First, encode a message to contact the signal originator acknowledging that

the United States had intercepted it. Second, using triangulation, discover

where the original source was coming from on Earth. Third, research who

and what this technology was currently being used for or experimented on,

and whether it could be used to contact the dark side of planetary bodies. Gideon had been encoding all day. His primary task had been creating

new code to lay the foundations for a more user-friendly interface for

anyone on the team to interact with the new software that would be needed. He had just finished the UI code when he received an email from the head

engineer. “Finally,” he muttered under his breath. He had thought his colleagues back at MIT were slow in group projects,

but working with government entities gave him a whole new definition of

slow. Especially, for the type of project they were working on now, Gideon

was shocked by the number of hoops they had to jump through and the lack

of urgency from some of the stakeholders. He reminded himself that this

was his first take and that most of these people were career government

employees; this was probably just a typical Wednesday for them. Gideon shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. Things were

so much easier back in his own room, working by himself, at his own pace. When you worked alone, you didn’t have to wait on anyone. And you didn’t

need anyone’s approval. The compartmentalization of this project and the red tape the government

kept creating was astounding. It was like they were their own worst enemy,

even with people being pulled together with a singular mission. Gideon looked up from his screen, feeling confident in his encoding

skills, when he noticed Rajit still sitting at his desk. “What’re you doing here, Rajit?” Gideon sat back and stretched his arms

high over his head with a sigh. “Not much investigation for a materials

scientist at this point, is there?” Gideon walked over. He noticed the focus

and slight concern on Rajit’s face. “Well, maybe …” Rajit paused for a few moments. “After you explained

the concept behind the meteor burst reflection, I wanted to better

understand the physics behind it. After doing some research, I discovered

that really, the radio waves are reflected from the ionized meteor trails, not

the actual meteor or meteor dust. Gideon, ionized particles are created when

the meteor starts to burn up by hitting our atmosphere.”

Gideon already knew where this was going, and they said the last

statement in unison. “No atmosphere in the Asteroid Belt …” They both looked at each other,

wondering what this meant. Before Gideon could say anything, Rajit

continued. “There are lots of compounds or elements that can reflect radio waves. But the Asteroid Belt is primarily composed of small rocky and metallic

bodies, remnants from the early solar system. While some of the more

distant objects may contain frozen volatiles like water or ammonia, the

majority are composed of silicate rock, carbon-rich material, and metals

like nickel and iron. More importantly, the overall density of these objects

is extremely low, meaning the Asteroid Belt is mostly empty space. Which

leads to where I am now, trying to figure out what could be reflecting the

signal.”

Rajit was sharp and he thought outside of the box, which made Gideon

like working with him. They both had the advantage that they were not

government-trained and restricted by the federal government’s way of

thinking. They didn’t have those bad habits to unlearn, and they didn’t care

what others thought. They just cared about results. Making them a perfect

team. Gideon rubbed his chin and walked over to Rajit’s desk, leaning in to see

his screen to look at the data. “Seems odd, doesn’t it?

I’ve reached out to a few colleagues of mine

asking for more details on the gases and elements found out there, but I’m fairly confident it’s not much,” Rajit said. “Once I have the results, I will

cross-reference them against the 104.8 –105.2 GHz frequency range and see

what kind of reflection we get.”

“Have you notified anyone of this yet?” Gideon asked. “Not yet; I want to better understand before coming forward with it. The

last thing I want to do is show up without my i’s dotted and my t’s crossed,

you know.”

Gideon nodded his agreement. “I should hear back from everyone by tomorrow morning. But my mind

is spinning. I can’t help but think of what the other possibilities could be. I

mean—” Rajit rested his forehead in his palm as he put his elbow on the

desk. “There is just so much going on here. Surely, someone else could

have seen this too, right?”

Gideon shrugged. “Not necessarily; this is a new theory. It takes time to

gather all the supporting data. I think you should bring this up, even if you

don’t have all the details?”

Rajit shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Rajit, think about it.” Gideon folded his arms. He wanted to encourage

Rajit’s progress. Before continuing, Gideon began to see how Rajit wasn’t

completely confident in his abilities. Maybe he was still too intimidated by

the white coats and big-name government agencies. He had to build him up. “You have something here; you can’t sit on it. We don’t have time to

backtrack and if you have something legitimate that they need to know,

something they are missing, you have to speak up about it. This could save

us days of going down the wrong path. This is why you’re here, to help in

this way.”

Rajit looked up with a smile and a hint of satisfaction. “Right. The next step is to send a message back, correct?”

Gideon nodded. “So, maybe before we do that, I’ll put something together in the morning. I’ll just propose what I have.” Rajit went back to his computer and started

typing. “It doesn’t have to be big, just a simple presentation lining out the

problem statement.”

There was a new excitement in his voice now and Gideon could see

something renewed in his eyes now too. “Maybe at that point, when we eliminate these other variables, we learn

who and how they are doing this.” Rajit slowly rubbed his temples and then

went back to furiously typing at the keyboard. Chapter 15

Blood flowed to the back of the fighter pilot’s skull as he pressed the

throttle to the full forward position. The F-22 roared to life as it rocketed

down the runway. He checked the gauges, which showed acceptable speed,

and a hard pull back on the joystick aggressively lifted the aircraft off the

ground. He held the steep twenty-three-degree ascent, checking over his

shoulders to ensure his two wingmen were in tow. The three jets powered

into the sky, leaving Lackland Air Force base behind, soon resembling

nothing more than a small speck among the rest of civilization. After achieving twenty-five thousand feet of altitude, the jets leveled off

and reduced thrust. The pilot released the buckle on the right side of his

helmet, allowing his oxygen mask to fall to the side. He preferred to breathe

the air within the small cabin instead of having it forced down his throat

from the mask. Fuck the rules, he thought in his head. “This is Skid speaking. Rabbit and Jig, you guys good?” the pilot said

over his radio. “Rabbit is ready to rock and roll,” replied one of his wingmen, voice

coming in through his earpiece. “Jig is A-OK,” said the other. The pilot, Skid, again checked over his shoulders to view the two F-22s

locked on to his left and right flank. “Roger, rerouting to coordinates in three … two … one.”

Skid slammed the joystick hard to the left. Goddamn he still loved this

feeling. The others followed suit. “Never fail to … hick … put us through a hard … hick hick … puulllll

huuh?” Rabbit said in between his sips of air. A trained technique to help

fighter pilots’ bodies withstand the intense G-forces. Skid only smirked but

didn’t respond. Once they were redirected toward the coordinates they had been

provided, Skid leveled out the F-22 and took a deep breath. “Rabbit, Jig, let’s go find out who is hanging out on this empty patch of

ocean.”

Skid thought about the briefing they had been given, only about an hour

ago. It had come straight from the mouth of General John Higgens. Not

something you see every day. The general had told them the US Air Force

had used triangulation to find an area, about twenty square miles, in which

they thought would be inhabited by some type of non-US ship, station, or

beacon. This area was about 1,700 miles off the west coast of Mexico in

which there was no known occupation. Skid and his team weren’t given any other information than the order to

conduct a series of flybys over the area to confirm whether or not it was

inhabited. If so, take as many hi-res pictures as possible and return home. It

wasn’t typical for Skid and the team to not get more details and it raised the

hair on the back of his neck. But whatever, a job’s a job. Skid brought his mind back to the present as his HUD helmet lens

indicated they were closing in on the location. He checked his left and right. Two jets and a bunch of clouds. “Boys, let’s bring ’em down, I gave the general my word that we would

find what our satellites couldn’t; we’re gettin’ low for this one. Bring ’em

down to thirty-five feet, and switch to thermal,” Skid commanded. “Thirty-five feet?

Over open ocean like this?

There could be swells

bigger than that.”

“Rabbit, you sure talk a lot, don’t you?

Look alive, boys, dropping in

three … two … one.”

Again, the team of fighter pilots slammed the joysticks in perfect

synchronization, this time pitching the front of the aircraft down into a steep

dive toward the North Pacific. Skid was going to have some fun with this one. They sliced through the

thick layer of clouds and the ocean came into view. He could now make out

the actual shape of the waves, moving slowly across the dark blue waters. His hand held firm on the joystick, holding it forward and commanding his

jet to continue its trajectory downward. “SKID?” Rabbit said, sounding both worried and annoyed. Skid ignored

it; the more Rabbit bitched, the tighter they’d cut it. The waves were now

clear; he could see the white water spraying from the top crests of the larger

peaks. “SKID?”

A little closer ….

“BACK!” Skid yelled. All the pilots pulled back hard. His calculations

were perfect as they leveled out above the water. He could see the wake of

swirling water vapor clouds spiraling behind them as they screamed across

the vast blue. “You’re fuckin’ crazy, Skid … don’t forget how you got your name.”

Rabbit laughed. “You like it. Jig, you good?” Skid replied. “Jig is A-OK,” he replied. Skid smiled; that man was all business. “OK, let’s put a hundred and fifty feet between us, wingtip to wingtip. Let’s find these fuckers,” Skid commanded. The jets quickly maneuvered into their new formation and began

methodically surveying the area. Minutes rolled by until the entire area had

been scanned. “Where are you?” Skid mumbled under his breath. According to Higgens there had to be something there, something

transmitting some type of beacon or signal. It could be small, but still, there

was no way the thermal vision would have missed it. These pilots could

find a hot piece of sand from two hundred feet away if they had to … and

with the cold ocean to contrast it … There was nothing out here. “We’re calling it, boys. Pull up to reach altitude; steady climb for this

one.”

The pilots began a gentle ascent, back into the clouds. Skid reached forward and flipped a toggle switch on his dash, connecting

his mic to Lackland Air Force ground control. “Skid here, squadron alpha alpha six. We have scanned the area and

returned negative results … there ain’t a fucking thing out here.”

Skid was shocked to hear the general’s voice reply. “You sure?

Nothing?

Anything to report?

Anomalies?”

“Negative,” Skid replied. “Roger that, bring ’em home,” the general replied. Skid couldn’t help but

notice the sound of worry in his voice. Chapter 16

Gideon, Rajit, and Linda found themselves sitting together again for dinner

in the mess hall. The air-conditioning had broken earlier in the day and the

Texas heat was stubborn to leave the large metal building. The hot air did

not make the spicy pork brisket and cornbread look any more inviting. Gideon chose to stick with just the fruit salad and a cold Gatorade. “I’m sure you guys heard. They were unable to find a source?” Linda

asked once Gideon sat at the table. Both Gideon and Rajit nodded their

heads. “An error in the triangulation?” Rajit asked. “No, I went over the formulas. They are perfect, amazing to be honest,”

Gideon replied. “Then how?

It doesn’t make sense,” Linda pushed. “Nothing on this project has made sense. Did you see the result of the

planetary study?” Gideon asked. Linda just smiled and pointed to herself. “Linguist here … so no I didn’t

dig into the science reports.”

“Every time it feels like we’re making headway, something else proves us

wrong.” Gideon had found himself frustrated. “The two most important pieces of data that we needed to back up the

meteor burst theory—particles capable of reflecting radio waves and

triangulation pointing to some sort of base sending the signal—have been a

bust.” Gideon tossed his fork down in frustration. “This isn’t your fault, Gideon. Meteor burst is still the most likely

explanation; they’ve just found a way not to play by the rules we know of,”

Rajit said, wiping the perspiration from his receding hairline. Gideon wasn’t

sure if it was the gel or sweat that was holding his hair in its firm combed

posture this afternoon. Linda chewed her fingernails, as if holding back something. Both Gideon

and Rajit looked at her and waited. They knew each other too well at this

point to withhold information. “Higgens gave the team the OK to move forward with sending a

response,” she said. “OK, I guess I’m not surprised; we still need to contact whoever is

sending the signal,” Gideon replied. “Yeah, I suppose so,” Linda said, doing her typical long pause between

statements. “But, if the data is showing that meteor burst may not be the correct

theory, is it possible we are sending this message to …” She trailed off,

something Gideon had never seen her do. “Aliens?” Rajit said flatly. “Aliens aren’t real, you guys. I understand that

the human brain jumps to wild conclusions to answer for the unexplainable. Why do you think there are so many different religions in the world?

To

help the human brain comprehend something that we can’t comprehend.”

Rajit seemed firm on this, and Gideon was surprised. He had assumed

Rajit didn’t seem like the type that wanted to believe in the concept of life

outside of Earth, but this made it clear. “I know, but … what if the first words we say to an alien race are the

military jargon that we plan on sending?

It just doesn’t sit well with me.”

Linda brushed a lock of frizzy brown hair behind her ear, paused and

continued. “But I suppose they wouldn’t be able to understand our words anyways,

would they?” she finished. “They?!

Who is they, you guys?” Rajit stood, grabbing his unfinished

plate of food and left. Gideon looked at Linda, feeling lost for words by Rajit’s reaction. “You’re doing great, Gideon. This is an environment that none of us are

comfortable or familiar with navigating. We must continue to follow our

hearts, best judgment and pursue all possibilities. You have continued to

provide fresh ideas and perspectives to the project; that’s what is

important,” Linda said in a compassionate tone. Gideon felt himself relax back into his chair. “You know, Linda, you remind me of my brother. He always had a way

of making people believe in themselves. He had this ability to find the good

or the hidden talents in people long before they recognized these virtues

within themselves,” Gideon said. “Your brother sounded like a good man, Gideon,” Linda replied. With a slow nod, Gideon stood, grabbed his unfinished plate and left the

table, urgently needing some rest. Chapter 17

Gideon felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through him as his heart rate

began to climb. He looked to his right; Shelly, the only other tech in the

room, looked back at him, her face also showing disbelief. Gideon checked

his watch: 14:52.

His mind raced, searching for logical explanations. Shelly slowly rose out of her chair, staring at the main screen on the wall,

eyes fixed on the new oscillating signal pattern. “This can’t be,” Gideon said. “Well.” Shelly chuckled. “It is. It can because the data is right there.” She

pointed at the screen. Gideon leaned in and blinked, repeating the numbers in his head. “I mean

—do you think it’s a coincidence?”

Shelly shrugged. “It doesn’t matter at this point what I think,” she said. “I’m just gathering the information.”

“But how— How can this be?

This would imply the signal is not—” He

hesitated to say the rest. He looked back at Shelly. “Not originating from Earth,” she finished for him. “I’ll call in support.” Gideon reached for the wired phone that would

connect him to Higgens. “What is it?” Higgens’s voice sounded on the other end. “The URF changed.”

Silence on the line. “Sir?”

“How?

How long since we sent our package?” Higgens asked. “One hour and eleven minutes, sir. By our calculations, this is almost

exactly half of the duration we were expecting.”

Silence on the line again. “I’m calling everyone in, this must be a coincidence. But if it’s not, I’m

assuming this means, with the known delay, there is no way someone on

Earth could have received our message and already updated theirs for

acknowledgment.”

“That’s right.” Gideon was still trying to understand the only possible

explanation: the signal was not originating from Earth. Within fifteen minutes, the room was filled with personnel, Higgens at

the whiteboard. The monitor was still showing the new signal being

received. “Attention!” Higgens called, then began drawing on the whiteboard. One

big circle for Earth and one smaller circle a few feet away for the signal’s

originating point, X0-5.

“OK, as we all are now aware, approximately one hour and eleven

minutes ago, we sent a signal from the GDSCC to X0-5.

Given the

approximate distance from the GDSCC to X0-5, our analyst calculated

thirty-five minutes for our message to travel from the GDSCC to X0-5.”

Higgens drew a line from Earth to X0-5 and labeled it “35min.”

“It will then take another thirty-five minutes to travel back to the true

source of the signal here on Earth.”

Higgens drew another line from X0-5 back to Earth and again labeled it

“35min.”

“At this point, we would assume the originators of this signal and

technology would receive our message. The total time of thirty-five minutes

out and then thirty-five minutes back is a total time of approximately

seventy minutes, or one hour and ten minutes.”

Higgens paused, as if checking his own math. “Once our message reached back to Earth in one hour and ten minutes,

we anticipated one of two things to happen. We would either be contacted

directly by the organization creating the URF, to acknowledge receipt of our

message. Or the URF would be revised to show acknowledgment. If the

URF were to be revised, it would then take another thirty-five minutes for

the new signal to reach X0-5 from Earth.”

Higgens again drew a line from Earth to X0-5.

“And then another thirty-five minutes for the URF to make it back to us. This total response time is a minimum of two hours and twenty minutes.”

Higgens took a step back, looking at the whiteboard. “As we all know, we have just seen the URF update in one hour and

eleven minutes. This leaves two options. Option A: this is a huge fucking

coincidence, and the signal happened to change for the first time in two

months. Or option B: X0-5 revised its signal as soon as it received ours,

never needing to communicate with Earth.” Higgens looked around the

room. No one was brave enough to say anything. He continued. “This would leave us to believe that X0-5 is in fact an

object capable of receiving, understanding, and responding to our

message.” He snapped the marker on the metal tray with a loud clap to

finalize his point. Someone raised their hand. “Yes.” Higgens pointed. “It appears the updated message is an attempt at replicating our message. The file is fairly jumbled but shows a high level of similarity,” a tech called

out. “Could this be some sort of feedback?” Higgens asked. “I don’t think we can rule anything out at this point, but just looking at

the data here it appears intentional. It is clean, no frequency spikes like you

would see with interference. Almost like it took our message and just

rearranged certain parts of it,” Gideon replied. “We need more data,” Higgens said. “In what way?” Gideon asked. “I want to see another test.” Higgens turned back to the whiteboard and

placed his hands on his hips. “My gut tells me this is not a damn

coincidence. But my head needs to see the data. There is too much riding on this. I want repeatable data. I want something I can point to on a graph or

read in a spreadsheet.”

“You want us to do it again?” someone asked. “Yes!” Higgens spun around on his heel. “Yes, send it again. And then

we’ll send it again and then we’ll send it again if we have to. Something out

there is playing with us.” He pointed dramatically up into the sky. “And our job is to know exactly what it is, and I don’t care what it takes.”

“Well, it won’t take us that long to resend the same data,” another tech

said. “Good, get it going,” Higgens said. “Sir.” Linda had entered the room just minutes ago. “What?” Higgens barked back. Linda paused and cleared her throat. “I don’t think we should be sending the same package.” The room went

silent again. Everyone stared at her. Gideon had always respected her

confidence. She didn’t care about the authority of the men around. When

she had something to say, she would say it. “What are you talking about?” Higgens began to look annoyed. “Why would we send the same package again?

We already know what it

will do.”

Higgens was listening. “Why are we all sitting here afraid to say it?” she asked, now walking

slowly to the center of the room. “I know I’m not the only one thinking it. Our job is to make progress, to

get answers and fast. And I’m sorry but we’re not going to do that by

playing it safe, by being fearful and making small plays. We have to take a

shot. That’s what we’re here for, right?”

The room had never been this silent. Gideon gulped, wondering how

Higgens would respond. “What are you talking about, Linda?” Higgens asked. She turned and locked eyes with him. “If X0-5 is nonhuman, then they have no idea what our words are. Our

message is just a random set of data to them, it means nothing. The only

thing they could possibly do with it is exactly what they did, reorganize it in

an attempt to let us know that they received it.” Linda, with eyes still locked

with the five-star general, was now walking toward him, standing tall. “You’re the damn linguist here, Linda. What do you suggest?”

“We must switch to the only universal language. Math and numbers,” she

replied confidently. She paused. “And give them a message that they can respond to.” She finished her

sentence, now standing face-to-face with Higgens. Chapter 18

Higgens rotated the Styrofoam cup of steaming black decaf coffee on the

polished wooden table. He had switched to drinking decaf several years ago

after finding that the caffeinated stuff caused his already stressed heart to

flutter with arrhythmia. Now just the thought of drinking decaf put him in a

sour mood, yet he still chose to pour the cup of pointless fluid every

morning. Sitting around the table were several other distinguished

individuals, including Larry Whitfield, secretary of defense and Alexander

Veltri, secretary of Homeland Security. Finally, at 1038 hours, Robert Waller walked into the room and took a

seat, floating his briefcase gracefully to the seat next to him. “I had to travel fifteen hundred miles to get here and you only about five

hundred feet … yet I was on time, and you were late,” Higgens commented. He was always annoyed with having to take trips to the Pentagon. Waller looked directly at Higgens, smiled and then resumed rummaging

through his briefcase. The room stayed quiet for several minutes as Waller

systematically laid out sheets of paper in front of him on the table, taking up

enough space for several people. Finally, he pulled out and propped open a

government-issue tablet and powered it on. “Alright, folks, I will start this meeting with the assumption that you have

already read the pre-meeting notes?” Waller scanned the room for nods. “Excellent. So, at this point, Operation SD has been a continuous series

of fuck-ups and bad assumptions. It has gone back and forth on its proposed

solution statement. It violates multiple protocols including Homeland

Security article 14.25 , UNOOSA agreement fucking everything, and SETI

Code of Conduct section seven. We absolutely must regain control of this

situation; it is a no-fail operation, and we are currently failing.” Waller

looked again at all the faces around him, spending an extra second on

Higgens. Higgens’s jaw muscles pulsed, but he remained silent. “I come directly from a briefing with President Helland and her chief of

staff. She is giving us a direct order to shift our attention to pulling this

operation back into compliance. She d—”

“Shift our attention to paperwork?” Higgens now interrupted. Waller’s eyes sharpened; his pupils seemed to expand. “Fall in line, Higgens, this is not the time for your shit,” his voice

quivered. In his many years of working with Waller, Higgens had never seen the

man in this state. He nodded his understanding. After taking a deep breath,

Waller continued. “From the White House’s point of view, we are working with something

that we know nothing about and doing so in a silo, which puts us at risk not

only for slipping up on how we resolve this unknown, but also puts us at

high risk of damaging external affairs. What this means is we have fourteen

days before we declassify this information and seek counsel from the

United Nations.”

“I have an exceptionally strong resistance regarding taking this

information to the public without us having a clear understanding of what is

going on,” Alexander Veltri said, changing his gaze to Larry Whitfield. “Public speculation could potentially be the most dangerous thing that

comes out of this. People are scared of the unknown and when they learn

that there is a signal coming from outer space that the United States has

known about for several months and still has no idea what it is. I’m telling

you, that will be the biggest threat Homeland Security has seen in years.”

“My stance stays the same, this is not a military concern until there is

conflict, and at this point this looks like some space noise that we have

picked up and does not show any sign of requiring military engagement. That said, we have heightened security at multiple locations, and when this

does go public, we will support Homeland Security in tightening up border

control.” Whitfield had a stern voice and an even more stern face. “Look”—Alexander Veltri scooted to the edge of his seat—“public panic

is the biggest threat. We are facing disclosing this information at a time

when governmental suspicion is at an all-time high. We can’t have the

American people feed on any more distrust. If we tell the public that we

don’t know what this is, there will be no end to the misgivings and

suspicion from the people.”

“That is not an option,” Waller said. “You may be right, but we have no

choice.”

“We always have a choice,” Alexander Veltri said. “Our job is to protect

the people; it always has been.”

“We don’t want to escalate anything,” Whitfield said. “We need to know

more before we can classify this as anything other than some space noise.”

“It is most definitely more than space noise,” Higgens said. “Then prove it. Having your linguist claim it’s aliens does nothing for

your credibility,” Alexander Veltri said. Several others chuckled at the

mention of aliens. Before Higgens could retort, Waller spoke up. “General, we absolutely must have an understanding of what we are

dealing with in the next fourteen days.”

Higgens nodded his agreement. Chapter 19

“Drinking that much caffeine could be lethal,” Rajit said, acknowledging

Linda as she walked in with a Stanford thermos, steam flowing from the top

for the fourth time that night. Linda simply winked one of her bloodshot eyes in recognition. “We’re nearly there; Stacey has been working at a lightning pace getting

this stuff into the correct format,” Gideon said. Stacey, an impressively knowledgeable computer programmer, had been

working around the clock taking the linguistics package known as language

knowledge data, or LKD, and coding it into a transferable package that

could be sent to X0-5.

Linda was still desperately making final tweaks on

its contents. “I’m not worried about Stacey’s pace; I just don’t know if my LKD

package is right for this,” Linda replied. After Higgens returned from DC two days ago, he directed the teams to

prepare multiple different data packages to send to X0-5.

One of which was

Linda’s linguistics learning package. Linda had resisted, but Higgens had

reminded her of the agreement she had signed with DARPA several years

back, putting her on retainer to support an effort just as they were doing

now. Rajit met her gaze but remained silent, Higgens’s heightened level of

security and haste had put them all on edge. He had high expectations and

was rarely around for questions. “Counter Package goes up in just an hour, right?” Linda asked Gideon. “That’s right. I’m going to head over soon to see it off, the data package

is ready to go.” Gideon stood. “And this Counter Package serves what purpose?” asked Rajit. “This is the first data package we’ll send to X0-5; it is a sequence from

one to ten.”

“Like a pattern?” Rajit asked. “Yes, exactly like a pattern,” Gideon said. “It is an audio signal beginning

with one knock, then two, then three and so on until it reaches ten.”

“Then what?” Rajit asked. “Who knows, but every intelligent being should understand a numerical

sequence like one through ten.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Rajit said, shaking his head. “There are two goals here,” Gideon interjected. “First, confirm that the URF will again return the package in the one hour

and ten-minute window. This would confirm that X0-5 is in fact some type

of physical object capable of returning our message. Secondly, we will get

to see if it returns the message in the same way it did before, shuffling the

data up. Or if it responds differently now that we are using what Linda is

calling a ‘universal language,’ potentially confirming whether or not X0-5

shows signs of … intelligence.”

Gideon made it to the lab just in time to confirm that the Counter

Package had been sent. There was an eerie feeling in the air as no one

wanted to discuss the different possibilities of the signal’s response. The

minutes dragged by as everyone waited for the large timer on the wall to

reach the seventy-minute mark. It was nearly midnight when it finally happened. Everyone’s heartbeats thumped as the counter rolled past seventy

minutes. Higgens had tightened security levels and was only allowing prime

and fully essential personnel to be involved. Even Gideon was being boxed

out of certain conversations he was typically allowed to partake in. He

figured this was a strategy to prevent any one person from knowing all the

details. The chime sounded, not a minute late. Gideon wondered how many

people had dreaded this or been hoping for it. “Seventy minutes and thirty-two seconds!” Someone called out. “I’ll be damned,” Higgens murmured, staring at the incoming message. “How long until you are able to decode?”

“Sir, it’s nearly a perfect match to our package.”

“A reflection?” Higgens seemed hopeful. “Unclear, but there does seem to be some added data, running it through

the software now.”

Higgens rubbed his temples, focusing on the screen in front of him. “It doesn’t look the same as before, it’s not shuffled, just added on to,”

Gideon said. He spun his smooth copper washer between his fingers to calm

his nerves. “It’s done. Stand by, appears to be audio, same as ours. Playing the file

now.”

A loud, slightly distorted “knock” was heard from the speaker. Silence …

One one-hundred, two one-hundred …

“Knock, knock.”

Silence … One one-hundred, two one-hundred …

“Knock, knock, knock.”

The pattern had been returned. The knocks continued up to ten. Silence … One one-hundred, two one-hundred …

“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock,

knock, knock.”

Silence … One one-hundred, two one-hundred …

“Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock, knock,

knock, knock, knock.”

Silence … the room froze as the group of humans digested and tried to

understand the message they had just received. Clearly originating from

somewhere other than Earth. “Confirm they added an additional eleventh and twelfth sequence to our

pattern,” Higgens shouted. “Confirmed,” the team replied. Chapter 20

Dark clouds loomed over Washington, DC, giving the Oval Office a gloomy

feel. The computer screen sat on the conference portal site, waiting. President Katherine Helland, a fit and fashionable woman in her late fifties,

was already deeply troubled by Operation SD and the lack of transparency

on how it was being run. She closed her eyes for a moment to find her

center, the last several weeks had been chaos. In fact, she was supposed to

be in Japan right now negotiating a new trade agreement, but instead, her

advisors had requested she postpone to focus on this new development. Since the day Waller had briefed her on Operation SD and this mysterious

signal in space, she struggled to shake this nagging feeling that something

was off. She adjusted her black Altuzarra suit jacket, feeling the American

flag pin fastened firmly to the collar. “Let me go over this again,” she said crisply to her small council without

needing to look at the notes in front of her. “We know there was a signal, or URF as it’s being called, that was

detected a long distance out in space. Up until four days ago there had been

no change or update to the frequencies it has been broadcasting. Now, after

sending a message from Goldstone Observatory our experts received an

updated frequency. Some sort of reshuffle of our original transmission.”

Someone on her council began to speak, but President Helland

interrupted, continuing her train of thought. “This reply to our transmission also contradicts the theory that this was a

reflecting signal originating from Earth?”

Linda chewed on her bright red shellac nails, a habit she had kicked long

ago. “And with all that aside, we then authorized a second message to be sent

back to the URF.”

Again, someone attempted to provide some context, but the president

continued, in a louder tone. “Meanwhile, this all is being kept from UNOOSA, the United Nations

Office for Outer Space Affairs, and SETI, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence Institute, even though SETI is the top organization specializing

in deciphering unique signals captured from space.”

“That’s correct, Madam President,” Juanita Perez, her main

councilwoman, finally said. Juanita had shared the president’s discomfort

with keeping the project top secret, despite her primary cabinet members

insisting on the importance of secrecy. “As you know, the US has a clear process already established, in which

SETI must be notified of any confirmed discoveries of potential

unidentified objects or anomalies immediately. I sent a report of this

protocol over this morning.”

“Right, so for the past few months we have been violating established

protocol at Waller’s insistence, to give him more time to make sure this isn’t

a direct threat to Earth,” the president concluded. “Right,” Karl Snyder said. “Operation SD is pushing for more time

without disclosing their findings to outside organizations. This briefing will

cover their most recent findings.”

“Madam President, with all due respect.” Juanita was firm. “You, as the

president of the United States, will be held directly accountable for this

decision. This won’t go over well with the public or governments around

the world when it comes out. It needs to be disclosed sooner rather than

later.”

“Madam President, if I may,” the secretary of Homeland Security,

Alexander Veltri, interrupted, sitting, legs crossed, in a large leather

armchair in the corner of her office. “I strongly urge us to wait to disclose

the discovery. The threat of letting the rest of the world learn of the signal

and utilizing their own, potentially unregulated and likely more reckless

methods of establishing contact would be a higher risk than for the US to

understand it first and get ahead of this.”

President Helland acknowledged his comment with nothing more than

direct eye contact. “Excuse me, Madam President, they are online, the conference is

beginning,” Juanita said. “Operation SD is online.”

The screen switched to three serious-looking middle-aged men. Juanita

pushed a button, then stepped out of the way. “President Helland here.”

“Madam President, this is General John Higgens. I have Robert Waller

and secretary of defense Larry Whitfield with us.” Higgens hesitated before

continuing, “Madam President, we have news regarding Operation SD. We

have just received a new response back from X0-5.

It is confirmed to be

originating from within our solar system and the response indicated

comprehension and problem-solving. It’s intelligent, Madam President.”

Raindrops slammed against the window behind her. The room darkened

further. “What are you talking about, Higgens?

Whitfield are you just hearing

this?” Her voice was sharp. “Came in just several hours ago; this is why the call was late: we were

getting our facts straight,” Larry Whitfield replied in almost a whisper,

sounding like a little boy instead of a top-ranking military general. Higgens continued, professional as always. “I’m sharing my screen, let

me know when you see it.”

“Got it.” President Helland studied the PowerPoint slide. “OK, stop me if you have any questions. As you know, last night at

eleven hundred, we sent a signal back to X0-5.

At exactly seventy minutes

and thirty-two seconds later we received a revised signal in return. Our

transmission was a series of dings counting from one through ten.”

An audio file was played, emerging from President Helland’s computer

speakers. “Ding … … ding, ding … … ding, ding, ding … …,” all the way up to

ten clicks. Higgens continued, “Did you get that audio?”

“Yes,” the president replied. “Good, my computer skills are improving. These are the series of dings

we sent to establish an audio representation of the numbers one through ten. We received the following message back. Notice that it will count one

through twelve. Our on-site linguist, Dr. Linda Knibley, believes the two

extra digits are a way of acknowledging receipt, then proving the ability of

processing and understanding the pattern.”

A knocking pattern, counting from one through twelve was played,

President Helland noted there was also a change in the sound, an ominous

knocking compared to the series of dings they had sent. “President Helland, given what we know about X0-5, its location and the

response time to our message, it is confirmed that the response was, in fact,

sent from X0-5.”

“My God,” Helland replied, although she followed no particular God in

faith. Whitfield broke into the silence. “Although there is no direct threat to

public safety, we have declared a state of Elevated Security. We are keeping

the air force with fingers on triggers around the clock. I’m concerned that

questions are going to start coming through, as most of the personnel have

not been told what the mission is.”

“We have to go forward with this information, per protocol. Waller, I

want you to get a report typed up by tomorrow morning for my review. We

will share this information with SETI and UNOOSA,” Helland

commanded, regaining her composure. Whitfield abruptly cut in. “Madam President, once we share with those

organizations, we no longer have direct control of the situation. The public

will find out, and keeping things from spiraling out of control will be

impossible. We must have a better understanding of what this is before

going forward. For the safety of this country.”

“With all due respect, Secretary Whitfield, I believe getting caught

holding this secret is far more dangerous than going forward with it,” the

president rebutted. There was a pause of silence. “Waller, have there been any other leaks?” she asked. “Fortunately, not much. Gideon’s original leak was still the only instance

detected, and the ripples were contained and now appear completely dead. There are a few conspiracy blogs and people pushing the increase of

government activity, but it’s not gaining much traction.”

“What kind of increase?”

“Some have been able to find flight records and staff hours, stuff like

that, but they ultimately have nothing but a handful of government officials

working long hours. The majority of the population is paying no notice.”

“What about globally?”

“Nothing yet, but it’s just a matter of time before someone else detects

the URF and gets it over to SETI or worse, goes directly to the public

before we can. Even though I don’t like it, I agree, we need to come forward with this information. I’ll have the report typed and in your hands

tomorrow first thing,” Waller replied. “Thank you, Waller,” President Helland replied. “Madam President, if I may, th—”

“You may not,” Helland cut Veltri off sharply. “We are not dragging this

out any further. Higgens, you said it takes about seventy minutes to send a

message and get a response back?”

“Roughly, that is correct. Madam President,” Higgens replied. “Well then, you’ve got one more shot to figure this out before we shut

down your operation. Our report goes to SETI and UNOOSA in forty-eight

hours.”

Chapter 21

Linda rotated the steaming Stanford thermos on the desk next to her

computer. The LKD package was nearly ready to send. Her brain was

swimming with mixed feelings about sending her life’s work out into space. A part of her fantasized about the possibility of there being some advanced

alien species, ready to digest the contents of the linguistics package and

learn how to communicate, putting her work to the ultimate test. However,

the logical side of her brain pulled her back to reality, worrying her that she

was most likely sending it to some type of man-made station that would

take her linguistics package and steal its proprietary contents. Gideon walked into the room and slid into a desk on her left, and Rajit,

sitting at a desk to her right, spun in his chair until he faced her. “How are

you holding up?”

Linda noticed that steam was no longer rising from her thermos; she must

have been deep in thought for some time. “Oh, as well as I can,” she said

with a sigh. “I’ve been working on this LKD package for the last eleven

years.”

“That’s a long time,” Gideon marveled. “It’s my life’s work,” she said, and she shook her head a moment with her

eyes closed, as if sifting through distant memories. “Well, tell us about it,” said Gideon, with what seemed to be genuine

curiosity. Linda hardly knew where to start, and she wondered if her two colleagues

would really be interested in hearing her nerd out about language for the

next half hour. She chuckled. “How much time do you have?”

Rajit and Gideon theatrically looked around the nearly empty lab and

smiled. “I pretty much have all day,” said Rajit. “Yeah, I think I can make some time,” Gideon was saying, gesturing as if

he were looking at an imaginary watch on his wrist. “All right, I tried to warn you guys,” said Linda with a shrug. “It’s going

to be an information dump.”

“Information overload is my favorite pastime,” said Gideon, and

somehow Linda believed him. Linda raised her hands in front of her. She always gesticulated when

talking about something. “It’s revolutionizing the way language can be

taught to humans with no base understanding of an advanced dialect.”

Rajit shifted in his chair, finding some extra comfort. Linda smiled and continued after a momentary pause. “Well, initially I

fought hard for funding throughout the years, as the demographic of people

it would support is a minority population. However, once I received the

grant from DARPA I was able to conduct several very interesting cases. For

example, three years ago a fourteen-year-old feral child from Vietnam was

inducted into the program, and within less than a year had learned the

basics of the English language. This shattered the theory that feral children,

after making it past puberty with no comprehension of language, could

never learn to speak and understand a complex vernacular.”

Gideon rubbed his chin and squinted slightly. “Interesting.”

Linda nodded. “The LKD package is a multimedia learning set, using

thousands of visuals tied with audio representation to provide the building

blocks to teach the language. The opening sequence of the LKD package

focuses on the concept of an audio representation of an object; written

language representation would come later. Pictures of common everyday

objects are shown, such as a tree, and accompanied by a voice saying the

word ‘tree.’ First, the candidate would grasp the concept that the sounds

could be used to represent objects. Next, the LKD would build on this to

add meaning to simple words and symbols using sequences. For example, a

picture of storm clouds followed by the equals symbol and a picture of rain. Once the equals symbol is established, the subject learning would accelerate

in terms of conceptual understanding of practical language.”

“When the participant learns word association with shapes, such as

square and circle, the word large is then taught, and the difference between

large and getting larger is explained by a visual of the square getting larger

with an equals sign and the words written out: ‘Square is getting larger.’

This begins the understanding of written language. Once established, the

final phase of the LKD package focuses on the most challenging piece:

explaining feelings and emotions.”

Linda rose from her desk and walked over to the whiteboard in the front

of the room. She picked up a marker from the storage bar and drew the

mathematical greater than symbol on the board. “At this point the mathematical term > or greater than is soon

understood. Visuals such as 2 > 1 are also shown by size > .”

Linda went on, drawing the illustrations as she spoke. “Once the understanding of the term better is grasped, it’s shown that a

larger box is better than a smaller box and thus, when the box grows in size

it makes the box happy. Overall, the LKD package could teach a list with

over two thousand words, enough for an individual to be able to speak and

write in the English language.”

Linda noticed that both Gideon and Rajit were leaning forward in their

chairs, attending her presentation with a lot more interest than she’d

imagined. “Now, with the context that this package could potentially be given to an

audience not from Earth, for the past several weeks I’ve been working to

remove all items that may not be understood by an alien species, such as

trees and other Earth-specific items. With the help of several

mathematicians and astrophysicists, I’ve replaced them with what’s thought

to be universal science representations.”

“Seems genius enough to me,” said Gideon. “Yeah well, not sure I would say that. In addition to the LKD package, a

series of accompanying information will be attached, including television

shows such as Bill Nye the Science Guy and several audiobooks. This will

give the recipient of the LKD package a chance to test their new knowledge

by viewing and listening to the attached media. I’m really struggling with

knowing how to anticipate the learning behaviors of something I know

nothing about.”

“Are you really thinking of this as catering to an alien species?” asked

Rajit. “Higgens seems to be fairly adamant that this is just a precautionary

measure.”

Linda recognized that Rajit still seemed completely unaccepting of the

possibility that the URF could be coming from anything other than a

human-developed technology. Gideon, she felt, was a bit more open-minded to the possibilities. He sat there, noticeably deep in thought, elbow

propped up on the desktop with his head resting in his hand. “I don’t know, Rajit, but that is what this data package is about. To teach

an intelligent being how to communicate with us.”

Rajit shrugged, biting his lip. “All I know is if this is really happening, I’m going to do whatever I can

to give us the greatest possible chance of establishing communication.”

Linda shifted her thermos. “That’s the way to go,” said Gideon, and he winked at her. “Better to be

prepared to communicate with aliens, and accidentally get humans, than the

other way around.”

“Touché,” Linda agreed. She wondered if Gideon was just being nice, or

if he really considered that her language package might be going to

extraterrestrials. Linda took a moment to ponder the gravity of what was happening, and

she wondered if all of her years of work had prepared her for this exact

moment. But she quickly dismissed the thought knowing her life’s work in

linguistics was to teach humans, not imaginary extraterrestrials. And then

she felt silly that she had ever really considered that they might be trying to

communicate with aliens. What were the chances of that?

Linda had gone through most of her life without thinking much about

aliens at all. Space, other galaxies, the possibility of life on other planets,

these weren’t things that came up very often in her line of work. But she

imagined that for the likes of Gideon and Rajit, these topics were often

pondered and debated. She wondered how much the two of them had

contemplated life on other planets throughout their lives. She turned her chair back to face her computer but couldn’t think about

the LKD package. She found herself trying to guess both men’s stances on

alien life, given their personalities and what she knew about them thus far. Both of them were obviously scientists, which meant they should be

unbiased, at least to an extent, and eager to discover new information about

pretty much anything. And while they both obviously prioritized science

and data over feelings and philosophy, she knew there was a difference

between the two men when it came to believing in things their eyes had

never seen. Rajit was clearly resistant to the idea that the signal could be from

extraterrestrials but surely his scientific mind no doubt told him it was a

possibility. Gideon, however, seemed more likely to consider that her

language package could find itself in the hands of aliens. Although a

scientist through and through, he seemed eager to consider all possibilities. Perhaps more philosophical in his approach at times. She couldn’t be sure,

but it’s what her gut told her—and she decided to find out if she was right. “Quick question, guys,” she said to them. “For fun, on a scale from one

to ten, one being no chance at all and ten being one hundred percent, how

much do you really believe that this signal could be from alien life?”

“Nice,” said Gideon who seemed delighted at the question. Rajit looked less thrilled. “Let’s say five,” said Gideon, and then he looked at Rajit. Rajit’s brown eyes darted back and forth. “Two,” he finally said flatly. Linda smiled; she had these guys pretty much figured out at this point. “And what about you?” Gideon asked her. “Oh …,” said Linda, surprised. She hadn’t even considered giving an answer herself, or what it would be. One part of her told her it was very likely. Of all the planets and even

galaxies that haven’t been explored, why wouldn’t there be life on even one

planet or somewhere in one galaxy?

Why wouldn’t there be?

On the other

hand, her more skeptical side told her it was a crazy and far-fetched idea. Much like Earth is the only planet in our solar system where humans can

actually breathe, an outlier compared to other planets when it comes to

atmospheric pressure and oxygen, our galaxy is likely an outlier among all

the other galaxies. “I’ll say a seven,” said Linda, contemplating her own question a lot more

than she’d expected. Earth as an outlier among nine planets was one thing, but among every

planet in every single galaxy was another matter entirely. And that’s only

based on the premise that alien life would need to breathe oxygen or require

the same conditions to live as humans. It didn’t take long for her to convince herself even more, and before a

minute passed, she had already bumped her answer up to an eight. But she

didn’t tell her colleagues. She was sure both Gideon and Rajit could put together very intelligent arguments to defend their positions. But all she

could say to justify her answer, which had now jumped to a nine, was that

there were just so many planets they didn’t know about. She thought about asking them to explain their positions, which she

imagined they would be happy to do, but she decided against it. They had

work to do, after all, and speculation meant nothing against cold, hard

proof. And the proof would be in sending out her language package. That is,

if anyone—or anything—responded. Not to mention, both men still looked to be mulling over the presentation

she had given, their eyes still occasionally scanning the whiteboard. Rajit’s eyes were darting around the whiteboard, and then he glanced at

Linda, a pensive look in his eyes. “How long was your expected learning

duration with human subjects?”

“Gosh, with Trẻ hoang dã, the young Vietnamese girl I told you about, it

took nine and a half months for her to understand about a seventy-five

percent comprehension rate, which is considered enough to be fully capable

of communication. She was our quickest. After trying several other

candidates, the next quickest was an eighteen-year-old boy who learned in

just ten months but was never able to get above a sixty-percent

comprehension rate. However, due to the intense mental trauma he

experienced in the past, I believe that was the predominant factor in

preventing his further understanding.”

Rajit nodded, clearly deep in thought, and Gideon bit his lip and let out a

long, “Hmmm.”

Linda continued. “The challenge is, as it is with anything nonhuman, the

concept of language is so vastly different from species to species. Ours is so

specific to our way of thinking …” Linda fell back into thought. “That’s right,” said Gideon. “Who’s to say they process language the

same way we do, or that they even learn the same way?”

“But any advanced civilization must have a complex language,” Rajit

said. “That is the most widely accepted theory, but again, we have no idea

what other forms of communication can be out there. Although it sounds

crazy, there are possibilities of telepathy, using tools, rhythms or a visual

language technique comparable to sign language.”

Rajit’s eyes widened. “I never thought about that,” he admitted. “Me either,” said Gideon. “At least not until today.”

Linda grinned. There was a small part of her that relished the fact that she

had made these two brilliant scientists consider something they never had

before. “Well, if we really are attempting to communicate with an

intelligent unknown species, I suppose there are two questions. Will they

even be able to understand the LKD package?

And if so, how long will it

take them to learn human language?”

Chapter 22

“Incoming message!” a tech yelled. Higgens stood from his computer terminal and looked around. It was

Johnson, the young technician who had been at Operation SD since day

one. “What is it?” He began walking over. “It’s what we’ve been waiting for,” the tech said. People all over the lab

began standing to see the large screen at the front of the room. It had been nearly two hours since the LKD package had been sent, the

first time that X0-5 hadn’t replied with the typical seventy minutes. The

team speculated this was because X0-5 was trying to understand the LKD

package. The pulsating red light confirmed the tech’s claim. The lab had

been manned with a full staff every hour of every day in anticipation of how

X0-5 would react to the new, highly complex LKD package. Tensions had

been high with anticipation. “Status update please!” Higgens yelled back. “I’m running decryption right now.” The tech was typing away at the

keyboard, looking back and forth between two monitors. “Turn on the signal drive,” another tech said as she fought for position by

the terminal. “It will process faster from there.”

Higgens stood and crossed his arms, knowing he was running out of time

to come up with an answer for this damned signal. He had never failed a

mission and he didn’t intend to now. “How long before the data is displayed?” Higgens pushed. “About seven or eight minutes,” the tech said. “Well, which is it?

Seven or eight?” Higgens barked back. Another technician rolled up in a chair and leaned into a screen to read

some numbers. “It depends on how fast our processors can download,” he

said. “The returned data package is completely different from what we sent,

not a modified version of our message like we have seen in the past,”

Gideon stated, clicking away at his keyboard. Higgens grimaced and tried to control his breathing. He couldn’t lose his

cool. All of his emotions inside him were balling up and ready to explode. He needed to know. But he had to remain in control. He couldn’t let the

team see him in such an undisciplined state, they needed a strong leader. “Well, what is the next step?” Higgens asked. “Alpha five to complete in under sixty seconds,” Johnson said without

taking his eyes off the screen. Higgens rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t these comm techs speak English?

Everything in him wanted to bite someone’s head off. “Tell what’s his fuckin’ name to shut down the B drives, push all the juice

to the mainframe,” Higgens yelled. “Yes, Chuck is working on that as we speak.”

“Holy shit … it’s done, it’s looking like it’s a very small file, perhaps just

some text,” someone said in the back. Higgens gulped. What were they about to see?

No way was he about to

read a message from some alien, was he?

Fuck that, no way. Probably some

scathing message from some country saying to back off and stop sending

fucking language packages. Higgens dreaded the embarrassment that would

bring to his operation. “I’m processing now and it will only take a moment.” The original tech

hit a few more keys. “Process the file.” Higgens rubbed his hands together. “And put it up on

screen three when you’re done.” He wanted everyone to be able to read it at

the same time. “Screen three up,” someone else said. “Downloading and converting the message now. It will read out on the

screen three automatically,” Johnson said. Everyone shifted and turned to the main large screen on the front wall. The screen was pure black with a white blinking cursor in the corner. “How much longer?” Higgens asked. “Fifteen seconds,” someone answered. The wait felt like it lingered for far too long. No one spoke. Higgens

sighed and cracked his knuckles. One tech tapped his foot on the linoleum

floor. The female tech chewed her fingernails. Everyone had a different way

of processing the wait. One of the computers beeped, signaling that the transfer had completed. And then they all saw it. Text began to appear on the screen. Higgens read the response. —

-

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

0123456789

.!?,()+-=><*

-

Hello. Thank you for data. Us learn data. Correct errors in words from us. -

Acknowledge you understand following messages. -

We are alien. You are alien. You name your species human. You may name us what you choose in your language. We are not enemies. -

—

Higgens read the last couple of lines again just to confirm what his eyes

were seeing. He stood, motionless. His weathered tan face appeared white

and ghostly. Moments of silence passed. Without warning, the silence was sliced by a high-pitched “fuck this”

from the back. A young man jumped from his station and ran for the door. “Nobody fuckin leaves!” roared Higgens. One of the armed guards

blocked the exit. The young man crumpled to the ground, pulling at his hair

and mumbling different phrases. Moving faster than a cat jumping on its prey, Higgens snapped back into

action and ran over to the nearest secure line and grabbed the phone

receiver. There was no need to dial as it was a direct line to General

Whitfield. “Higgens?” the familiar voice said, a sense of concern already present. “Sir, we have what appears to be open communication with the signal. It

was an intelligent response.”

“So, what’s the category?” Whitfield asked. “It’s a Code Black.”

“Black?” Whitfield asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir. I’ve confirmed it. It appears we have communication from an

intelligent life form that is not from Earth.”

Higgens felt the stare of every person in the room bearing down on him. He tried to focus, trying to listen to Whitfield’s response, but his mind was

swimming. No amount of military training could have prepared him for

this. He clenched his teeth hard, forcing himself to calm down. “Yes sir, right away, sir.” Higgens replaced the phone, ending the call. He

raised his hands in the air to get everyone’s attention. He looked out at the

room of worried faces. “I need you all to shut down your machines immediately and report

directly to the K building, you will be escorted by security. Leave all cell

phones, iPads, flash drives, everything here. No technology leaves this

room until it’s been cleared. I don’t want as much as a smartwatch on your

person. Let’s go.”

No one moved. They were still in shock. “NOW!” he yelled. Everyone in the lab began moving like the building had caught on fire. Chapter 23

The base of the glass award was now perfectly flush with the edge of the

polished wooden desk. Declan Wilter buffed the residual fingerprint left

behind on the clear surface. Observing it for several moments, he slid it

back to check its width against the other trophy occupying the desk. Rarely did nerves get to him when waiting for a conference call, but

today his heart thumped noticeably beneath his neatly pressed collared shirt. The California heat assaulted the room’s AC, slowly winning the battle

between hot and cold. Sweat formed just below his graying hairline. Declan was what most would consider a highly accomplished man for his

age, and he made sure that was known to his visitors. His desk and walls

were littered with various plaques, trophies, and certificates. By educational

standards, he fell below most of those surrounding him, with an undergrad

degree in mechanical engineering from a college nobody had heard of, and

a master’s in astronomy from UCLA. Once he graduated with his master’s

in 1982, he joined NASA and took immediate steps toward making the

journey to the International Space Station. By the young age of twenty-six

he became the second youngest person to ever go to space, serving a three-

month research grant on the space station. Upon returning from his scientific voyage, he became disgruntled with

the lack of funding for space programs. He got involved in politics with the

goal of expanding scientific research programs, particularly space

exploration. His political endeavors consumed almost fourteen years of his

life as he spent time on multiple different councils and panels. He would have continued his political progression if he hadn’t gotten

married and started a family at the considerably late age of forty-five,

though his wife was fifteen years younger. His friends had given him a hard

time, saying his attractive young wife had only married him because of his

good looks, often referring to him as a doppelgänger of various movie

actors. Regardless, the life of a politician had far too much travel and

dedication to the job to support also being a family man. Just two years

after his son’s birth, he slowly began to withdraw his involvement, which

landed him his dream job. As acting president of SETI, the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence,

Declan spent most of his days reviewing small potential discoveries that

almost always led to nothing and dealing with the never-ending battle of

obtaining funding for the many ongoing programs. Although he found

himself missing the adrenaline of high politics, he greatly enjoyed his work. Throughout his life Declan had talked and engaged with many important

people and been involved in many high-pressure situations. But today took

the cake. The phone receiver sat silently with an open line for eleven minutes now. When he had first dialed the secure line, described in the email he received

yesterday, he was greeted by a younger-sounding woman who asked him a

series of questions to confirm his identity. The process felt similar to talking

to a bank about credit card fraud. Once he successfully completed the

questions, she told him he would be on hold until all parties were present

and then the conference call would begin. In this eleven-minute silence, his

mind raced in many directions—why was he getting this call?

Perhaps SETI

was getting its funding pulled. He dreaded the thought. Without warning the speaker embedded within the desk phone sprang to

life. For several seconds all he could hear was the sound of soft voices in

the background, papers being shuffled, and a cough. Breaking through this

pattern was the voice he had been most anticipating, having only ever heard

it on the news. “Declan, do we have you on the line?” said the voice of the president. “Yes, I am here.”

A different voice. “Please state your first and last name and where you

are currently located, this call is being recorded for US government

records.”

“Declan Wilter, calling in from Mountain View California, SETI

headquarters.”

There was a long silence, broken again by President Helland. “Declan, I’m accompanied by the head of internal affairs, Mr. Waller, and

the secretary of defense, General Larry Whitfield. We thank you for taking

the time to accept this phone call.”

“Of course,” Declan replied, feeling starstruck. “I and the individuals in the room with me this afternoon would like to

share with you some news. This news is going to be startling.”

His heart sank as he had come to learn startling typically meant bad. Must be funding. “As a man in your position, acting president of SETI, I hope this comes

as good news,” she continued. Good news?

Curiosity and excitement pushed the bad feelings out. A soft

“OK” escaped his lips, not likely heard over the speakerphone. The

president continued. “Fourteen weeks ago, the United States government detected a unique

signal originating from within our solar system. Declan, we will formally

brief you with all details soon, but in short, we have strong evidence

pointing toward this being extraterrestrial in origin.”

Declan was unable to formulate a response as his brain was instantly

overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts. He had always believed in life

outside our solar system, and since joining SETI those beliefs had become

even stronger. But now, hit with the actual reality, it seemed impossible. The line remained silent, as they allowed the information to sink in. Finally, Declan found his mental ground and spoke into the microphone,

trying to hold his composure. “OK, this news is incredible … Are we, are

you certain?” His brain was swimming in excitement and awe. As if the words had restarted his brain’s ability to process information

again, he quickly followed up. “What has happened in the last three

months?

Was the original detection what led you to believe it is

extraterrestrial, and why am I hearing about this now and not when you first

detected the signal?”

“When the signal was detected, it was clear to us it was abnormal, but did

not lead us to believe it was … nonhuman. We pulled together a tiger team

of scientists to try and better understand what we were dealing with,”

General Whitfield explained. “What do we know?

What led you to believe it is extraterrestrial?

Is there

reason to believe that we could be dealing with an intelligent being?”

Declan kept his voice professional, and calm. “Yes, given the research and findings, we believe we are dealing with an

intelligent being,” a new voice replied. Declan focused on keeping his thoughts calm and collected, as the

president of SETI should. But his mind was rapidly filling with questions

and actions. “OK, oh my, this really is difficult for me to digest … and do we believe

they know that we have detected the signal?” Declan asked. “Yes, they have responded to a linguistics package sent.”

Declan was taken aback by this statement. “What linguistics package?

You’ve established communication without

engagement of SETI?” His curiosity cooled from welling frustration. “That

violates Section 7 of the SETI code of conduct, as I would hope you know.”

“We will brief you more soon, we really cannot discuss any more details

on this line. C-37B is en route to Moffett Federal Airfield as we speak; you

have been provided a pass in your email to get through security, from there

you will be escorted to the aircraft. Be there in four hours.”

“Four hours, OK yes, I can make that happen. I need to check with my

wife an—” Declan was interrupted by another voice. “Declan, you absolutely cannot tell your family the reason for this trip. This is of the highest level of classification. Under your oath to SETI, you

must abide by this confidentiality.”

“What am I supposed to say?” he replied, again feeling overwhelmed. “I’m sure you will figure something out. This is your moment, Declan. We will see you in DC tonight.” President Helland’s voice was soothing. “Yes, Madam President. I’ll be there.” The line went silent. Declan let out a long exhale, stood from his desk, grabbed his laptop bag,

and left the room in haste. Chapter 24

Declan glanced back at the white Gulfstream G550 resting on the tarmac,

also known as C-37B, wingtips illuminating brightly against the night sky. It had brought him here to DC from California in just four hours. The

engines hummed, as if eager to lift the small powerful jet back into the air

for its next mission. Declan hastily pulled his rolling suitcase across the

airstrip toward the black SUV parked less than a hundred feet away, only

the soft glow of its running lights guiding him. The last several hours were a blur. He only had two rushed hours at home

before leaving for the airport. His wife hadn’t even said goodbye out of

frustration over his unexplainable rapid departure, which in the past had

been a product of his latest affair. Countless sessions of couples therapy had

only begun to regain her trust in him. What made Declan feel even more

uneasy was he didn’t even care at this point; all he could think about was

the fact that he was on the cusp of learning and communicating with an

intelligent alien species. This was really happening. He couldn’t get to DC fast enough. Once he arrived at the black GMC, a man in a black suit with a coiled

wire running from his collar to the back of his ear took his bag and loaded it

into the trunk of the vehicle. He then opened the rear passenger door for

Declan to enter. The interior of the SUV reminded him of a small limo, and

he found himself sitting facing a man he recognized but couldn’t place his

finger on where from. The man looked at him calmly, then offered a firm handshake. “Robert Waller. Nice to finally meet you, Declan. I will escort you to the

White House for today’s meeting. Accompanying us today will be President

Helland, the secretary of defense General Larry Whitfield, General John

Higgens who has been in charge of Operation Signal Decipher, and myself. There are two primary objectives to this meeting. First, develop a plan

forward for communicating with the AS1, and second, develop a strategy to

inform the public.”

“AS1?” Declan inquired. “AS1, alien species first occurrence, this is what we will be calling …

them.” Waller looked uneasy saying the final word of his sentence. The rest

of the car ride was mostly silent. Waller viciously clicked away at his

iPhone giving Declan time to think about what he planned to talk about at

this upcoming meeting. Soon, the SUV pulled off the main street and

stopped at a gate guarded by several Secret Service guards. This was the second time Declan had been to the White House. His first

time was a meet and greet with President Obama to accept a grant for the

International Space Youth Scholars program which, being predominantly a

publicity stunt, brought with it hundreds of cameras and spectators. Today,

they entered in complete secrecy. It was of the utmost importance that

nobody knew that the director of SETI was meeting with the United States

president. Once parked in the secure underground lot within White House grounds

they walked to a large elevator, big enough to fit a small car. Declan’s

balance was thrown off when the elevator dropped instead of moving

upward toward ground level. Stepping out of the lift, Declan immediately

noticed the lack of windows and, paired with the elevator’s descent,

assumed they were now deep underground. The hallway walls and ceiling

were a vibrant white, while the floor was a velvet red carpet runner. Historical pictures and awards decorated the walls. As they made their way down the narrow passageway, Declan whispered

to himself quietly, rehearsing some of the important points he planned on

making at this discussion. After taking several turns, they walked into a

large room with a long wooden table and chairs placed around it. Several

others were already seated. Waller motioned his hands toward one of the

black rolling leather chairs, Declan took a seat. President Helland and Whitfield walked in shortly after, engaged in a

hushed but heated discussion. The exchange ended abruptly the moment

they took their seats and looked toward Declan, who was becoming more

and more restless—why had he and his organization been kept in the dark

all this time?

Waller stood from his chair and began. “The goal of today’s meeting is to

discuss the logistics, impact, and timeline on bringing the knowledge of the

AS1 to the public.”

Declan interjected, his frustration trumping his nervousness, even in the

presence of the president. “I would like to jump in here, Mr. Waller, Madam President, and others,”

Declan said with a respectful nod. “And remind us all of the ground rules and expectations. Please note,

these are not ‘my’ rules, they are legal agreed-upon terms that were vetted

and established years ago. The Declaration of Principles set by SETI,

agreed upon by the United States government and endorsed by the United

Nations has defined steps to follow when dealing with coming into contact

with an unknown, such as the AS1.

Allow me to summarize the nine steps

concerning activities following the detection of extraterrestrial

intelligence.”

Declan surveyed the room and was happy to see he had everyone’s

attention. He then flipped open his brown leather folder and retrieved his

printed copies of the SETI protocols passing them out to each of the

attendees. “Firstly, the discoverer of potential extraterrestrial intelligence evidence

should rigorously confirm its plausibility before public announcement. Second, before public disclosure, the discoverer must inform other parties

for independent verification and continuous monitoring. Third, upon

credible evidence confirmation, the global astronomical institutions and the

UN secretary-general must be informed. Fourth, a confirmed discovery

should be disseminated promptly and openly through scientific and public

channels. Fifth, all necessary data for confirmation should be accessible to

the international scientific community. Sixth, the discovery and related data

should be permanently recorded and shared for further analysis. Seventh,

parties should seek international agreement to protect relevant frequencies

if evidence is in electromagnetic form. Eighth, sending any response

requires international consultation and agreement. And finally, ninth,

establish a committee for ongoing review and coordination of evidence

analysis and information, involving international institutions and experts.”

There was a sense of unease in the room, Declan continued before

anyone could ask questions. “The first two steps have been completed. Unfortunately, after that it

appears there have been some drastic deviations from these guidelines. Most notably, step eight in which we have communicated with the extraterrestrials, or AS1 as you have named them, without any international

consultation or agreement.”

Declan looked around the room. He was pleased to see attentiveness and

now several nodding heads with the exception of one unimpressed-looking

military general. He assumed this was John Higgens. “With all due respect, Declan, the discovery process was not as smooth

and clear as the neatly outlined steps in your document,” Higgens stated

flatly. “Our document, sir, this is our Declaration of Principles in which we will

begin to abide by. If I may, I’d like to highlight my recommended next

steps.” Declan looked toward President Helland and Waller. “Please, Declan, this is why you are here, and I appreciate your

preparedness,” President Helland replied. “Good. Step three of the Declaration of Principles has one important key

aspect with which we are not in compliance at the present time. I quote, ‘a

signal or other evidence due to extraterrestrial intelligence, the discoverer

shall report this conclusion in a full and complete open manner to the

public, the scientific community, and the secretary-general of the United

Nations.’ In our case, the discoverer would be the United States military

division. Thus, my recommendation for the most immediate next step is to

alert the UN secretary-general and request an emergency special session to

develop a strategy for public education,” Declan stated firmly. “President Helland and I have already made contact with UN secretary-

general, Jamal Uddin, requesting an in-person meeting. This will take place

tomorrow at 0930,” Whitfield replied. “Excellent. Additionally, I request all data be transferred to the

International Astronomical Union, IAU, so a team from the international

scientific community may examine the data. Can you please provide me

with more information as to the type of signal we detected, and what leads

you to believe it to be of intelligent extraterrestrial origin?”

Waller and Higgens explained the details behind the steps taken from the

first time the signal was detected to when the LKD package was sent, and

the response received. They also explained the physics behind the signal’s

orientation and how it defined all current technology’s abilities. “One of the higher-level concerns I would like to address is the fact that

the AS1 appears to now understand English. They should also be able to conclude that we have recognized and responded to their presence,”

Higgens said. “There is a reason ‘Response to signals’ is one of the final steps of the

process, Higgens,” Declan replied sharply. “I’m not here to have you lecture us on what we should have done,

Declan. Please help us look forward.” Higgens’s voice rose slightly. “Yes, sir.” Declan knew that getting the General in a state of anger would

be counterproductive. “You are correct; by establishing first contact with

the AS1 in which they are now awaiting our next step or response, we have

initiated what I would call a ‘communication pause.’ Theoretically, this is

how the AS1 would view our behavior of reaching out, receiving their reply

and then not returning a response. This can be dangerous as it can lead to

wrong assumptions from the AS1.

Some of the most likely assumptions

would include. One, that we did not receive their last message. Two, that we

did not understand their returned message. Three, that we do not have

interest in communicating with them. Or four, that we received their

response and are planning something that we do not wish to communicate. The list of assumptions is long, and this is just a few of the possibilities. So

yes, Higgens, I agree, formulating and sending back a response will be our

top priority.”

Chapter 25

The General Assembly Hall echoed with the sounds of people quietly

chatting and moving about to find their seats. Located in New York City,

the United Nations headquarters was chosen as the meeting point for the

UN Emergency Special Session. Tensions could be felt hanging in the air; only Jamal Uddin, the United

Nations secretary-general, knew the true nature of the meeting. Jamal

nodded to the security guard who stood by the back door. He adjusted his

tie as the guard motioned him in. His throat was dry. Inside the small

staging room, Jamal found a cold bottle of water in the tiny fridge and

gulped down a swig. Although he had addressed the UN many times, never had it been a

special session … and for the topic of discussion to be aliens?!

He wiped

his brow, feeling dizzy from the weight of the news he was about to share

with the council. He took another sip of cold water and closed his eyes,

taking in one last deep breath of air. Jamal walked out onto the stage and took his seat in the line of chairs in

the back. The attendees were silent. The room was not in its usual swing of

dignitaries shaking hands and warming each other up. The usual face-to-

face politics that were normally here were gone. Everyone knew something

big was to be shared. Rumors had been kept at bay, though people were beginning to believe

the United States had been hiding something important. President Helland’s

presence at the meeting cemented these rumors and the press, though

strictly regulated, was already beginning their own theories. For the first time in history, the meeting would be held without media

coverage; this was enough to cause the public to take notice and begin

speculating. Security was at an all-time high to prevent any media leaks or

interruptions. The General Assembly Hall was completely filled with the 193 country

delegates. The stage was flanked on both sides by the iconic curved wooden

tables. In front of the stage were the stair-stepped rows of desks. Each delegate had a computer screen, country name tag and a lamp. Everyone sat

motionless, ready to hear what was about to be said. Opela Hermadi, the elder statesman from Indonesia took the stage. Jamal

knew her well, but today she avoided eye contact with him. She stepped

behind the podium and adjusted the mic down and took a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen, delegates of the UN, thank you for attending this

emergency special session of the United Nations General Assembly. As we

all know, these sessions are nontypical, and this will be the twelfth session

in the history of the United Nations. The primary objective of such sessions

is to make urgent recommendations on a particular issue. Such

recommendations can include collective measures and may require the use

of armed force when necessary to maintain or restore international peace

and security. Due to the urgent and unprecedented nature of today’s

meeting, normal beginning procedures will be waived. At this time, I would

like to invite our secretary-general, Jamal Uddin of Bangladesh, to take the

stand.”

Jamal stood and walked to the center of the stage as Opela stepped away. A polite applause grew throughout the hall as he reached the podium. Once

he did, the room went silent again. He checked his notes as he laid them on the small stand. He rested both

hands on the side and took a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege today to announce the

commencement of a truly historic moment in the history of humanity. Approximately, nineteen weeks ago, the military branch of the United

States detected a unique signal originating within our solar system.”

He paused for everyone to take that in, noticing several people looking

around with confused looks, clearly not expecting this special session to

start off mentioning “our solar system.” Jamal licked his lips to ensure the

next words came out clearly and confidently. “We have compelling grounds to suspect that the detected signal

originates from extraterrestrial intelligence.”

The room was silent, Jamal could hear his own heartbeat pulsing within

his inner ear. The eyes staring at him were all wide and filled with worry

and disbelief. Within moments a few voices could be heard throughout the

audience, and the tension in the room began to rise with the increasing

chatter. Jamal raised his hand. “Please, I ask that you all remain attentive and focused. This news was

just as shocking to me as it is to you now. Allow me to provide you with

some information before we begin to speculate.”

The giant projection screen behind him came to life, displaying a graphic

of the solar system, zooming out from Earth. “The origin point of the signal has been named X0-5 and currently rests

at 632 million kilometers from Earth, just outside of the Asteroid Belt.”

The video highlighted the region in scale to the solar system. “We will release all details of the physics, but what captured the experts’

eye was that X0-5 is stationary from our orientation here on Earth meaning

it is in a geosynchronous orbit with Earth. This tells us two things. Firstly, it

is using thrust, beyond what we are capable of generating with modern-day

technology, to maintain its location. Secondly, it has clearly oriented itself

with respect to Earth, leading us to believe this was a targeted and planned

contact.” Jamal paused, to survey his audience. “The US government has initiated contact with X0-5 and successfully

delivered a linguistics package, enabling X0-5 to respond in written

English. In a remarkable development, X0-5 returned a message marking

the first written response we have received.”

Jamal turned to the screen and the readout of the signal was displayed,

just how it looked to the original scientists who read it for the first time. Jamal reread the final lines. We are alien. You are alien. You name your species human. You may name us what you choose in your language. We are not enemies. He turned back to the mic. “For the first time in the history of humanity we have confirmation of

communication from an extraterrestrial intelligence.”

This time when he stopped, people began speaking all at once. It took

some time to get everyone calmed down. But Jamal was finally able to get

the representative from Brazil to take the floor. “The United States should never have hidden this information from us for

so long. This communication and its existence should have been

immediately reported to the United Nations and partnering organizations!”

The woman’s voice quivered slightly. “SETI was brought in first for their expertise and the United Nations

Office for Outer Space Affairs, with what I would assume will be agreed

upon by this council, will be brought up to speed next. Yes, the United

States may have held this within their own control for longer than protocol

states. However, it was not clear what the nature of the signal was for the

majority of the time.”

The prime minister of Albania began next. “An event such as this cannot

and should not be confined to the discussion at the UN. This is something

that changes all of humanity as one. This event needs to be shared with the

people of our world. We can no longer hold this back. We must tell the

public today.” Some murmurs followed. “I’m afraid I do not agree with my colleague from Albania,” the president

of Malta said. “This is of great importance. There is much to be discussed. There is much we do not know. And it will be dangerous to share such a

historic piece of information with the public if we still have questions. I

demand that the United States reveal to us all that they know about this

matter.”

As Jamal tried to regain order in the hall, the president of Pakistan stood

and took over with a powerful, booming voice. “This is a sham of misinformation,” he shouted. “The existence of alien

beings from another planet is a false concept and is against the teaching of

Allah. Nowhere in truth is this explained, and it is a deception by the United

States. I urge everyone not to fall for this deception.”

This harsh tone created more people yelling. Jamal was starting to

wonder if he was ever going to gain control here. “We need more proof,” the president of Poland said. “How do we know

this isn’t some elaborate hoax?

My thoughts immediately jump to AI or

some type of elusive man-made technology we aren’t considering.”

Jamal raised his arms to get everyone’s attention. “This is what the SETI

experts are working on now. All current data supports that this is not a hoax

or AI. But we are considering all possibilities and using strict scientific

postulations to come up with concrete facts. We hope to declassify and release all of this information, which will be discussed, case by case, in this

session.”

“But why were we not informed about this earlier?” the president of

Senegal asked. “Why were we forced to wait instead of being able to

contribute to this historic event?”

Questions and angry comments continued. Many countries were upset

they had not been communicated with earlier. Others were outright unable

to process the information, some even stormed out in disbelief. Jamal had to

assume they would be leaking the information, if not openly talking to the

press, regardless of the NDA they had all signed. He needed to get ahead of

that and get consensus before moving forward. “I recommend we push forward with this session so we can get all of the

facts in front of you,” Jamal said. “Ultimately, the main objective of today’s

session will be to determine whether the UN will disclose this information

to the public, and if so, how.”

Jamal knew the only way to avoid public panic was to appear in control

of this situation. And the best way to do that was to let the UN tell the

world. They would have to communicate it soon. The emergency session

lasted over six hours as Jamal and the council navigated the complex

discussion and details of the AS1.

By the conclusion of the meeting and

several different opportunities to vote, the council has come to a consensus. The public would be notified immediately. Chapter 26

Waller arrived at Lackland Air Force Base fourteen hours after the United

Nations Emergency Special Session had concluded. Adam Fangman, the

large security guard, greeted him at the gate. Adam was not only running

internal security in the area but had become the golf cart chauffeur. Waller

scanned his visitor’s badge and climbed into the cramped vehicle. Adam

smiled at him and took off, speeding across the vast stretch of pavement to

hangar C, where Higgens had hijacked a small conference room for their

use. Higgens was waiting inside, sipping on a lemon La Croix. Upon seeing

the cold beverage, Waller wheeled himself around and retrieved one from

the small break room just outside. Reentering, Waller cracked his sparkling

water and made the first remark. “Well somehow you managed to get me to come down to this dump.” He

glanced around the room. “It beats the zoo of DC that you call home,” Higgens replied flatly. Waller’s eyes continued to scan the small room until they finally stopped

at a point where the paint was peeling and bubbling off the wall from the

intense humidity. “How’s your mother?” Waller asked, changing the subject but still

observing all the imperfections in the outdated room. “Don’t try your bullshit political tactics on me, Waller. I don’t need you

tickling my balls,” Higgens replied, annoyed. Waller just smiled and tried again. “How’s your mother, John?” Waller repeated. Higgens took a long deep breath. “She’s good, Robert. Still sharp as a tack, she wouldn’t mind seeing you

again, it’s been a long time. Her retirement pay is covering the bills,”

Higgens replied, briefly remembering the time when he and Robert Waller

used to get along. “Good, good. Did she end up in Florida?”

“Got herself a nice place in Horseshoe Bay.” Higgens paused, wondering

if he was making a mistake telling Waller too much. “Believe it or not, I bought a place just up the street right before this

whole mess started. I haven’t even had a chance to see it in person yet.”

Waller looked surprised by this. “You’re not retiring, are you?”

“Well, looking less likely now,” Higgens barked back, thinking about all

of the recent events. Waller stretched his arms up and reached them back, linking his fingers

behind his head. “As you know, the UN held their session yesterday.”

Higgens nodded. “And, as expected, this has put a lot of different plans in motion. I’ve

spent the last week thumbing through pages and pages of protocols when

coming in contact with … aliens. This still all sounds so absurd when I say

it out loud.” Waller paused. “I know what you mean, but that is now the mission.” Higgens shook his

head in agreed disbelief. “How’s that affecting us here?” Higgens indicated toward Operation SD

headquarters. “Well, fortunately for you, there was no immediate request for the United

States to cancel the operation, so nothing will change here, but it is more

important than ever that we stay quiet. President Helland was adamant that

we do our best to fly under that radar and follow all established protocols.”

Higgens let out a loud groan but nodded his head. “Additionally, Umairah Rafidi, an astrophysicist from Singapore, has

been notified. She is the director of UNOOSA and holds the title of First

Contact Specialist. She will be working with Linda on the communication

side of things so you can expect her to join the team soon.”

Both sat in silence, perhaps still needing time to fully comprehend the

situation. “Now that the UN is aware of the ASI,” Higgens said. “Who do you think

is going to want to shoulder in and call the shots?”

“What do you mean?” Waller asked, already knowing where this was

going. “I mean, something like this, something that is literally changing life as

we know it.” Higgens stood up from the table. “Everyone is going to want a

piece of that action, to be in the history books, get their voice heard. Each

country is going to fight for some position on some new committee; you know how it goes. They are going to drag out the process. Pretty soon we’ll

be having to wait for seventeen different countries’ approval before we can

do a damn thing.”

Waller shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. But we’re following the right process

now, which is needed. Even you can’t disagree with that.”

“When are they going to make the announcement?” Higgens asked, now

pacing around the room. “Within the next twenty-four hours, but we have to assume word will

start to get out before then,” Waller said. Higgens pinched the bridge of his nose. “And once that happens, then what?

When do we break the

‘communication pause’ that Declan talked about?

We need to communicate

back to the AS1.”

“That will be determined after the secretary-general contacts us.”

Higgens shook his head and mumbled some profanity under his breath. “It’s already starting. We wait. What if the AS1 doesn’t like to wait?

We’re already losing control of this situation,” Higgens said. “Well, it’s part of the process to get things back under control,” Waller

replied. “Damn the process,” Higgens said, walking toward the door. “Higgens!” Waller called to catch his attention before he stormed off. “Get your rest now while you can, once this all goes public, we’re going

to have a whole new can of worms to deal with.”

Part II

DISCLOSURE

The power of the people is much stronger than the people in power. – Wael Ghonim

Chapter 27

The clip of President Helland’s red-bottomed heels echoed against the walls

of the large auditorium as she walked across the wooden stage. Bright lights

shone upon her; she could feel the heat they were producing. Looking

ahead, she saw Jamal Uddin already standing at the center podium. He

would be making the announcement today as a neutral party to all of Earth’s

nations. Although just a short walk, maybe only fifty feet, it seemed to take

a million loud steps to reach her assigned podium, to Jamal’s right. Once

she finally reached her stand, she made direct eye contact with the UN

secretary-general and smiled, nodding her head. Her podium, built of rich

red mahogany wood, displayed the United States Presidential Seal on its

front. She thumbed through the papers resting on the stand and was relieved

to recognize the contents that she had worked on with her administration

earlier that day to prepare. Next, Declan made his way onto the stage, en route to the podium on

Jamal’s left, the SETI logo placed neatly on his podium. Helland could feel

the tension in the room tighten at the sight of SETI. They knew his

organization searched for intelligent life outside the solar system. Declan’s

smile reached ear to ear as he made his way to his stand. All three felt the weight of the situation resting on their shoulders. This

announcement was about to be broadcast live on every official news station

in the world, establishing it as the largest public announcement in the

history of humankind. Ads and press releases had been running

continuously for the past twenty-four hours to let the public know; however,

no information regarding the nature or contents of the announcement had

been shared. Almost three billion viewers, an unprecedented audience size, huddled

around their televisions and computers to watch the highly anticipated

statement. Radio channels broadcasted the audio, YouTube had live feed,

the massive screen over Times Square began counting down, and over a

hundred thousand people gathered in the cordoned streets. Snow floated

down from the gray sky, leaving white accents against the black streets and buildings. The loud murmur of voices fell to almost nothing as the clock

reached zero and the screen came to life. Viewers now saw Jamal with Declan and President Helland standing by

his side on a large stage. Flags from all over the world hung on the wall

behind. Above the long row of familiar flags hung a larger flag, new to most

eyes. It was blue in the background with a realistic representation of Earth

stitched largely in the center. Jamal pulled his mic a few inches forward before addressing the world. “To every member of our great Earth, we thank you all for allowing us to

speak with you today. My name is Jamal Uddin, I come from Bangladesh

and am the current secretary-general of the United Nations. Today, I have

been given the opportunity to present to you all a very exciting moment in

human history. A moment that will most definitely impact and shape our

futures as humankind.”

He looked down at the podium for the first time since the beginning of

the speech. Millions of people were motionless, waiting for his next words. Jamal refocused his gaze on the large bank of cameras pointed at him. A

look of unease had come over his face. After a long inhale, words began

filling the air once again. “On June 13 of this year, an abnormal signal originating from within our

solar system was detected by the United States military. Unsure of what was

being detected, a team of scientists and analysts was brought in to study the

findings. After eighty-six days, the team confirmed its origin. On September

17 it was brought to SETI’s attention that a signal had been discovered and

was believed to be of extraterrestrial origin.”

Typically, at this point Jamal was used to an outcry of questions and

cameras but today, the press box remained silent, stunned by the last

sentence. Faces hollow with confused thoughts of fear, disbelief, and shock. One young reporter rose to her feet. Jamal held his breath, awaiting some

sort of outcry or protest. Instead, she turned and began to walk across the

front of the row of reporters, she swaggered drunkenly, reaching out at

nothing to stabilize herself before collapsing to the ground. Those around

her reached down to check on her; however, most of their eyes remained on

the stage, locked on to Jamal. He pushed forward, focusing hard on

retaining his composure and confidence as a team of medics came to aid the

fainted woman. “Moving forward, all information regarding the signal will be officially

declassified and accessible to the public and nations of this world. There

will be no secrets. This is bigger than governments and economies. We, as a

human species, must come together and work together to choose our future. This extraterrestrial being has proven peaceful, and will likely present us

with opportunities to learn more about the universe we live in. Please”—

Jamal placed his hands together in front of himself in a praying position

—“I ask each and every one of you to stand strong and united. Today, we

are united as one, under the flag of Planet Earth and stand proud and

confident in our abilities. Today, we as a human species grow stronger and

closer to one another, recognizing that it is pertinent to our integrity. Today,

ladies and gentlemen, we take a massive step forward in our progression

through time as an always-growing and evolving race of humans. The

United Nations, with the absolute support of our 195 nations and their

elected representatives, will move forward with establishing

communication with our new friends.”

Chapter 28

~ 24 hours after public announcement of AS1 ~

Harsh echoes of beds being pushed across the concrete gymnasium floor cut

into the tense air. People talked in hushed, stern voices; the lack of laughter

gave the large, cramped space an apocalyptic feel. Over three hundred

people had come to the guarded gymnasium, seeking safety for themselves

and their families. Darío’s family had left their home the morning after the announcement. A

house, just three buildings down, had caught fire and burned to the ground. Chaos in Quito had fully erupted and spread into the smaller outlying

towns, which were being ransacked. The Ecuadorian military had been

driving through the streets announcing through loudspeakers where the safe

houses had been set up. Darío’s little sister’s grade school building was on

the list and his family quickly fled to the location on foot, just one and a

half kilometers from their house. The family of four now sat, shoulder to shoulder on green plastic Club

Lager crates, trying to watch and hear the news playing on the projector at

the back of the large concrete room. His mother cried silently, head in her

hands. They had been assigned one bunk bed for the four of them and had

brought only what they could carry. The local news station switched back

and forth from local news to world news every fifteen minutes. Much of the

world news was presented in English with Spanish subtitles. His father, a devout Christian, refused to believe it. He said it was fake

news and was baffled as to why the governments would want to instill this

kind of chaos upon the people. The distressing images were uncensored and

showed riots and wakes of casualties throughout the world. The death count

in Ecuador alone had hit over one hundred people in less than twenty-four

hours after the announcement, which had pushed the local authorities into

establishing a strict 8 p. m .

curfew. Dario wondered if the announcement of

the new space creatures meant the end of the world as he knew it. Chapter 29

Gideon knew the announcement would cause a stir, but he was altogether

unprepared for what he saw as he stared down from the rooftop patio of the

Marriott hotel. Sheer and utter bedlam. After the announcement, civilian

personnel of Operation SD had been provided the option to begin staying

off base. Both Gideon and Linda had jumped at the opportunity to finally

sleep in a proper bed and enjoy some quality food. Rajit, on the other hand,

had chosen to stay on base, worried about the safety of the outside world. Gideon wondered if he had in fact made the right choice. Cars in the street below had clustered into traffic that was moving so

slowly it was practically stopped. Several individuals had gotten out of their

cars and were looking around, as if aliens might be lurking nearby. There

was a hubbub of panicked voices, shouts and screams, and car horns blared

through the hot Texas air. A siren wailed in the distance, the sound of its

wee-woo adding another noise to the din. Then there was glass breaking

somewhere, its fracturing shards sounding keen and close, even from the

high rooftop. Swarms of people shuffled about, some with their faces glued to their

phones, as they scoured the Internet for all the answers. Others ran away

with some purpose, whether to their own homes, to see loved ones, or even

to a gun store, Gideon couldn’t know. Gideon heard someone shouting something about the second coming of

Jesus, another voice yelling, “Fake news!” and a third voice, louder and

more frantic than the others, yelling, “They’re going to kill us all!”

followed by a loud, guttural scream. Gideon saw people praying in the

street, and families could be seen running out of a nearby convenience store

with armfuls of toilet paper. Why is it always toilet paper?

he mused. Gideon looked down upon the city in horror. It was complete chaos and

had been this way for the past several days. Gideon wondered if the AS1

had a way to see all this. He couldn’t imagine the aliens’ surprise, dismay,

or even amusement at seeing how the earthlings were reacting to their

presence. A drone whizzed by, and Gideon wondered what its operator was hoping

to find. He wondered what kind of stories people had already made up in

their minds concerning these aliens. What were they imagining?

And then

he took a moment to consider what he was imagining. Based on their

interactions so far … intelligent, nonconfrontational. And that’s all he really

needed to know, wasn’t it?

How long do you need to develop trust and

understand intent?

Gideon closed his eyes and let the commotion wash over him. He fiddled

with the copper washer in his pocket, more out of anxiety this time rather

than trying to process some equations. “Fancy seeing you up here.”

Gideon turned around to see Linda, walking his way. “How are you?” Gideon asked as she made her way over and rested her

forearms casually over the balcony railing. He noticed she seemed to avoid

looking down at the chaotic streets below, but instead looked up at the sky. Linda shrugged. “Did you see the Pope made his official announcement

today?

Let’s hope that helps the religious fanatics at least.” She pulled out a

cigarette and placed it in her mouth, not lighting it. Gideon nodded; he had heard. “And another Eastern Bloc country joined the resolution with North

Korea and Iran, right?” he asked. “It was Kosovo,” Linda said. “They are calling it the Tonkin Resolution

now.”

“The what?”

“As in the Gulf of Tonkin. You know, the whole Vietnam War thing. The

want to push the theory that everything is all a false flag by the US

government to gain more international control.”

She lit her cigarette and paused, still looking up at the sky. “I don’t smoke,” Linda said as a red glow from the Marlboro lit up her

inhale. She finally turned her gaze to the streets below. Gideon shifted his

weight back to avoid the thin swirling trails of burnt nicotine gliding toward

him. Confused by her statement as she clearly was, in fact smoking. “There have been a lot of firsts in the last couple of weeks,” Gideon

replied. “I used to smoke, back when it was cool. I stopped when we adopted our

daughter, Matilda. Actually, both my wife and I did. My hair was blond back then, not naturally, but I made more of an effort to try and look

young.” Her gaze slowly shifted back toward the clear evening sky, now

speckled with stars. Her graying hair sparkled in the Edison bulb lighting

the hotel rooftop. “When was that?” Gideon now moved to her right side to avoid the

cigarette smoke; Linda didn’t seem to notice. “Well, I just missed Mat’s fifth birthday, so five years ago. I’ve never

missed my daughter’s birthday before.”

Gideon nodded; he could sense that Linda was feeling overwhelmed. “I’m embarrassed by the public’s reaction to the news.” She paused and

then continued. “Although I do hold some small shred of understanding for

how they are feeling. How will this impact our future generations?

What

will be their experience with alien life?

Will it be normal for them?

Just like

our understanding of the planets in our solar system, will young children be

taught about our neighbors on different planets?

Will their picture books

have illustrations of the AS1 race, with a small description going along with

it?” She gave her cigarette a long hard pull, releasing a long exhale of

smoke. “Gone are the days when the existence of life on other planets was

merely a theory,” Gideon agreed. “We are part of the last generation that knew what it was like before other

life forms were discovered,” Linda said. “There was a last generation before

the printing press, before gunpowder, before the nuclear bomb …” Her

voice trailed off. The two stood in silence for minutes, deep in thought. Since the LKD

package’s success, an exchange of three messages had followed, each

specially crafted by Linda and Umairah Rafidi, which allowed the scientists

to gather some limited information and prove the AS1s’ ability to

communicate. “I’m relieved that we have broken our silence with the AS1 and we are

now engaging in active communication,” Linda said softly. “Agreed, and the AS1s’ claim to be nonthreatening seems to be true … no

strange requests or any signs of malicious intent,” Gideon replied. Linda nodded. “Amazing to think there is a team of twelve aliens up there right now

sitting in some alien spacecraft.” She squinted up at the now black sky, as if trying to see the AS1 ship. “They must be as excited as we are, meeting an alien race for the first

time,” she said. “Do you believe that?

That we are the first alien race they have made

contact with?”

“I don’t know, Gideon. There’s no way to prove or disprove their

statements yet.”

Gideon digested the recent developments and created his reply. “You know, Linda, this time was coming. Contact with extraterrestrials;

most modern thinkers will agree it was just a matter of time. We are lucky

to be involved and lucky the AS1 seems to be respecting our boundaries.”

Linda shoved the remaining half of the cigarette into the white metal

railing, bits of ash and smoke fluttering until the smothered red glow

dissipated. “But what’s next?

I can’t imagine we will be sitting around sending

messages back and forth forever.”

Gideon chewed on the thought, but it didn’t take long for an answer to

come. There was only one thing that could possibly come next. “The next step must be meeting,” she finished, completing Gideon’s

thoughts. “Agreed, and since the farthest we have ever sent a human is to the moon

and they clearly have the technology to travel space, we can probably

assume they will come to us,” Gideon replied. Linda raised her eyebrows in thought, her expression shifting from

gloomy to thoughtful. Gideon wondered what exactly she was thinking. Perhaps, like he, she

was considering what it might be like to meet them. What the entire first

meeting would be like. Pondering what the challenges would be, how

smooth it might go, how wrong it could go. Maybe, like Gideon, she was

thinking of how impossible it was that they were even in this position:

communicating with alien life and possibly about to meet them. No, he

didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. “They will approach us,” she suggested. Chapter 30

The hot San Antonio sun poured relentlessly over all visible objects,

creating a heat that not only came from the sky, but also radiated off of

everything the sun touched like the pavement and surrounding buildings. As

the golf cart sped across the military base, the wind felt like a hot air dryer

blowing harshly into Gideon’s face. Fortunately, the nearby Starbucks had recently reopened since shutting

down after the announcement due to nobody showing up for work. Gideon

clutched the iced mocha as if it were his lifeline from the intense heat. “Seems like things are leveling out, huh?” Gideon shouted over the loud

drone of the tires rolling across the pavement. Fangman lifted an eyebrow. “Guess so, the gyms are still closed, and my stocks are still frozen. I

didn’t even know they were allowed to pull that shit. Did you?” Fangman

referred to the freeze on the trading of stocks evoked shortly after the

announcement. This prevented a complete crash of the stock market. Gideon shrugged at the comment as he had never been interested in

stocks. Instead, he lifted his mocha in the air. “At least we can get iced

coffees again.”

Fangman grunted and Gideon made the assumption he wasn’t much of a

Starbucks iced mocha kind of guy. Once they arrived at the ugly tan

building, Gideon hopped out of the golf cart, thanking Fangman for the lift. He nodded his head and then leaned back, placing his feet up on the dash

while he waited for the next person needing a ride. Gideon took the handicap ramp instead of the stairs; somehow it seemed

it would require less energy, although he was very aware that the laws of

physics would disagree. Once he opened the doors his nose detected the

familiar scent of computers consuming electricity and dust. His ears

registered the familiar sound of fans humming as the processors worked

tirelessly. His eyes, however, noticed something unusual. People’s faces

were strained, and Higgens was barking orders over the red-corded phone. Linda quickly walked to him, with alarm on her face. “Well, it’s

happened—they requested permission to approach.”

“No shit,” Gideon replied. They had all been expecting this, but it now

felt all too unexpected—too soon. He looked up at screen two and saw the message. -

—

Requesting permission to approach Earth. Humans may track our ship’s movement. Please

confirm our proposed location here:

—

-

-filelog_data-

“Where’s the location?” Gideon asked, just loud enough so that anyone

with the answer would hear. “We haven’t locked it in yet, the data in there is pretty abstract, the tech

team is working hard to understand it. But right now, it’s looking a little

close for comfort.”

As Gideon thought about this, the break in conversation allowed him to

focus on what Higgens was saying into the red phone. “Trust me, it is being worked on as we speak. A reply stating we will

need time to think is being typed right now.”

Higgens eyed Linda, causing her to leave Gideon and return to her post. “Agreed, we can certainly be happy that they asked and didn’t just show up,

but we need to be the ones who tell them where to park, not them.”

A tech named Kade shouted, “Sir, we have an understanding of their

proposed location, it would put them in a geosynchronous orbit nearly 1.2

million kilometers from Earth.”

Higgens looked at Gideon. “How far away is that?”

Gideon considered a moment. “Um, that’s like four times further away than the moon.”

He pulled out his smartphone to double-check his facts, although he

knew his response was accurate. Higgens covered the phone’s microphone with his hand and raised his

voice to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, that’s way too fucking close, I can tell you that. Don, set up a

meeting with Melissa and the astronomy team to get detailed information

on their proposed location. Linda, get a hold of Umairah Rafidi and

UNOOSA. We need their buy-in on everything we do here.”

Higgens un-palmed the phone receiver and shouted into it, almost as if he

had forgotten the microphone was just a few inches from his mouth. “Buy us some time, Waller, let me know what the UN wants to do here

and if they support the AS1 approach. If they do, let’s get ahead of this and understand what location is tolerable; we can then cross-reference that with

the AS1 proposal and provide back our demands.” Higgens hung up the

phone with more force than necessary and turned back to the room. “I want notes on all this at 14:30.

I’ll set up an ‘around the room’ and

we’ll see where we’re at. Let’s go, people!”

The room erupted into action; this team was beginning to perform like a

well-oiled machine. Chapter 31

Two cardboard boxes sat in the center of the room, accompanied only by a

small desk holding a double set of monitors plugged into a government-

issued laptop. Declan was already envisioning how much better a large oak

desk would look in comparison. The room was large and the back window,

facing east, presented an impressive view of New York’s Chrysler Tower. Declan’s memory faded in and out of his last phone call with his wife. She

had refused to pack and ship his things from his SETI office to DC,

demanding that he come home to the family and reminding him that when

they had kids, there was an agreement that he would no longer leave for

long business trips. “This is not a fucking business trip!” Declan had yelled

back, flabbergasted that she didn’t recognize the importance of his role in

working with the AS1.

While it was unfortunate it had to be this way, she knew what type of

lifestyle she had married into. Declan had to make sacrifices. Things had to

be done in his department and he was the one to do them. He had always

told her his job was more of a lifestyle. It wasn’t some nine-to-five office

job. He thought about giving her a call. As he considered the different things

he might say to her, he reminded himself that he simply didn’t have the

time. He also thought that maybe his wife needed to be more understanding. Here he was, in the middle of work, thinking of ways to make it right with

her, and he wondered if she was doing the same. Annoyed, he pulled apart the packaging on a fresh pair of Montblanc

pens he had recently bought for himself. What choice did he have?

This was

his call to duty, the largest and greatest discovery in the history of

humankind, and he was at the front of it all. An aggressive knock shook his door. Rising to his feet, Declan pulled the door open. “Jamal,” he said, surprised to see such a high-ranking figure already

requiring his assistance. The UN secretary-general looked exhausted. He

gestured toward the mostly empty room. “May I come in?” he requested, before entering and leaning himself

against the desk in Declan’s new office. “Unlike you, I didn’t sign up for this.”

Declan thought about this for a minute. “You mean by me working for

SETI?”

Jamal nodded and turned to face Declan, meeting his eyes. “Yes …

aliens?

What the fucking fuck.”

Declan was going to release a laugh, but quickly noticed Jamal’s

clenched fists and decided a simple nod was more appropriate. They stood,

in silence, for what felt like too long. Declan thought about how unbelievable all of this was, how surreal. Aliens—not a meteorite. Not a newly discovered planet. But actual aliens. Living, intelligent, aliens—that had communicated with them. He couldn’t

help but release a small smile, which he hid behind a hand covering his

mouth. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?” Declan pushed. Jamal seemed to regain a present state of mind. “There will be more

information soon, but the AS1 have requested to approach in an effort to

make contact.”

“You’re kidding, my God!

And?” Declan pushed. “Why would we let some alien race, we know nothing about, approach

our planet?” Jamal said, almost sounding annoyed. The man had a point, but Declan knew denying the AS1 would stop

progress, stop the opportunity for him and all of SETI to finally achieve

what they had set out to achieve. “Well, you are here talking to me about it,” Declan replied. Jamal replied with a nod. “So, if you are looking for my opinion, you have already assured the

public that they are peaceful, which I firmly believe is the case. Thus, at this

stage, denying the AS1 the right to move closer, would that not be an

indication of distrust?”

“To the AS1 or the public eye?” Jamal replied. Does it really matter?

thought Declan, but he replied more diplomatically. “Well, I suppose both, but I am focusing on the public here. If it becomes

known that the AS1 requested to approach, and we refuse them?” Declan

shook his head theatrically, to make his point. “That could be more dangerous than granting the AS1 permission in the first place. Our key

tactic to keeping the public at ease, ever since the discovery of the AS1, has

been to convey the trust we have built with them. To show distrust in that

relationship or what could be perceived as a disagreement?

A conflict?

That

would be catastrophic for the people of our planet.” Declan allowed Jamal

to take this in. There would always be people who were afraid, Declan thought. No

sense in making them more afraid. If the public got wind that they were

denying the AS1 entry, people would automatically think it was because the

AS1 were dangerous and could stifle this entire operation. “There is much more at stake here than public image, Declan,” Jamal

replied. Declan wanted to disagree, though with a bit of a warning in his gut. It

was the public that determined if their world got flipped upside down

because of this. They had all the power and didn’t even know it. Already

how quickly fear turned into riots and looting had proven the danger and

power the general population held. Public image was just about the most

important thing here. But telling that to the UN secretary-general wasn’t

going to be constructive. Declan had to play his cards right. “Sure,” Declan replied in the most sincere voice he could muster up. “Allow me to paint you another picture,” Declan continued. “Do you believe the AS1 have the ability to approach quickly, perhaps

even come directly to Earth, regardless of whether we provide them

permission?

In other words, do you think the AS1 are reliant on us for the

ability to travel here?”

Jamal’s eyes sharpened. “No, I would assume the AS1 have the technological abilities to come to

Earth, regardless of whether we support them.”

“I would have to agree with you, Jamal,” Declan replied, pushing out his

lower lip and nodding his head. “Do you believe the AS1 may have a hard time accepting the fact that

they have traveled all this way, only to be turned around?”

“What are you getting at, Declan?” Jamal asked. “I am of the belief that there is a high likelihood that the AS1 will choose

to approach us, maybe even come to Earth, regardless of our answer. Granting them permission keeps us in the power position. Allows us to set forth the parameters in which we are comfortable. Sets the precedent to the

public that we are in control of the situation, not at the mercy of what the

AS1 choose.”

Jamal walked to the large window and gazed out at the New York

skyline. As the sun dipped below the horizon, a deep darkness cloaked the

sky. The city’s millions of windows shone in a brilliant display of light,

overpowering any chance of seeing stars in the night sky. He turned away

from the view to face Declan, lowering himself so he was sitting on the

windowsill. “Your point is valid, in fact, President Helland and her council had

similar concerns. But I just can’t shake the feeling that this could be a huge

mistake.”

“I understand that Jamal, but denying our new friends reaching out?

Meeting us?

That would be the greatest mistake of all.” Declan met Jamal’s

gaze with intensity. Chapter 32

News of the AS1 had immediately changed the lives of Michelle and the

crew of four on the International Space Station, often referred to as the ISS. Previously the day-to-day had been slow-paced and very routine, checking

in on a few in-process experiments and logging data. Now, nearly all of the

ongoing experiments had been put on hold and focus had changed to

receiving daily orders from the bosses down on Earth. Michelle hadn’t expected things to change so abruptly on the ISS, but

change they had. Neither she nor any of her fellow astronauts could have seen this coming. But Michelle was happy about the change. Not just for the obvious reason,

that they were going to meet freakin’ aliens!

But because it gave her the

opportunity to learn new things and skills. She had quickly mastered all of

her current roles and responsibilities on the ISS and now was her chance to

learn even more. She pushed off the handle she was holding and floated gracefully to the

robotics workstation. Here she would grapple the incoming payload that

had been launched just several hours ago. Her palms were already sweaty as

she spun 180 degrees to face the simulator to practice once again. In her

combined experience of nearly two years on the ISS, she had only been

required to dock three unmanned ships. This was typically something Crach

would do, but Michelle had lost the game of jacks last night. She cursed

herself for wagering now, although she almost always beat him at the stupid

game. After running the simulation flawlessly, she returned to the controls and

activated the LCD screens, reminding herself that this was just another skill

to put in her tool belt. The low beep of the screens turning on echoed in the

small compartment. She could now see the SpaceX craft slowly

approaching. It contained a massive payload, in fact the largest ever sent to

the space station. It would not return to Earth, as it would serve as the crew

quarters for the AS1 crew. This was the first of five payloads to be sent,

staggered a few days apart. She couldn’t wait to get a look inside. For some reason, just seeing what

the aliens were going to see was exciting in and of itself. The crew had only been made aware of the recent developments four

days ago, following the decision to allow the AS1 to approach the ISS. From what she understood, the plan would be to first allow the AS1 to bring

their craft to an orbit around Mars. Once at this location, they would send a

smaller craft containing three AS1 delegates to dock at the ISS. She was

still in shock at the fact that in just a few weeks, she would be face-to-face

with an alien. She and the crew currently inhabiting the ISS had been given the option

to return to Earth prior to the AS1 coming if they did not want to be

involved in the first contact. Two of the members had chosen to return to

Earth, not wanting any part of it. The remaining crew felt nothing but

thrilled and lucky to have the opportunity. True scientist mentality there, she

considered. She wondered about the first thing she might say to the extraterrestrials,

or what they would say to her. “Hello,” she said, trying to imagine it. No. “So glad to meet you. So glad to finally meet you.” Err, uh … “Welcome. Welcome to Earth.” But they weren’t on Earth yet. Shoot. She hadn’t thought about it before, what they might say, and she suddenly

found herself feeling the pressure of having to speak in front of some

intelligent being. She hated public speaking for starters. What if she said

something stupid?

What if she stuttered?

What if she simply didn’t know

what to say at all?

Her already clammy hands moistened even more. This would be recorded

and likely played back countless times by future generations. It would

obviously be on the news, uploaded on YouTube, and there’d likely be a

plethora of documentaries made using the footage. Shaking her mind from these thoughts, she activated the remote

manipulator system and keyed her mic. “Eye, this is Dock One, do you copy?” she asked. “Eye, here go ahead,” Crach said. He would be observing everything

from the Cupola, ready to help her guide the payload. “Ready to begin ODS stage one,” she said. “Stage one, go.”

Michelle turned on all links of the orbital docking system then pressed

her eyes into the vision cup to line up the flight. Everything was looking

good. She could see the SpaceX payload clearly, small puffs of steam could

be seen firing from the exterior in order to keep the vessel aligned with the

ISS docking. The white plumes contrasted against the black vastness of

space. The AI autopilot was bringing it in perfectly. “She’s lined up, ready for stage two if you are.”

“Copy that, everything is clear. Stage two is a go.”

Michelle activated the lock to the open setting on the pressurized mating

adaptor. “Adaptor is ready to receive.”

“Copy. Hold steady,” Crach said. “Payload is on course. Will dock in

ten.”

Michelle checked all the warning sensors. Everything was in the green. She looked through the cup again. Everything looked good. Almost no

exterior thrusters were firing at this point, indicating that the payload was

aligned. A deep clang echoed through the walls as over six thousand pounds of

payload lugged into the bracket. She never got tired of hearing that sound of

satisfaction. “Docking complete,” Crach said over the comm. Yes. The sequence and the sound were the same. But something was

special about this one. Chapter 33

~ 18 days after public announcement of AS1 ~

The dry desert sped by the bus window. Adrenaline pulsed in Chase’s veins

and his fingers rubbed the back of the laminated sign that sat between his

legs. The sign read “All intelligence is created equal”; a small graphic of a

green alien shaking a stick figure’s hand was shown below the words. A

journey from Istanbul to the city of Alanya typically would take over

sixteen hours; fortunately, the tour bus companies had quickly jumped on

the opportunity of people gathering in Alanya, and were offering many

direct options. Chase considered himself a well-versed traveler but had never been to

Türkiye. Upon landing in Istanbul, he’d attempted to get supplies at a large

supermarket; the prices of goods near the festival would undoubtedly be

inflated. As expected, the grocery store shelves contained mostly empty

space. Although the EU had imposed strict regulations on the quantity of

items a single person could purchase at a time, many stores had run low on

water and canned goods. He left after finding an excellent deal on a couple

of boxes of cheap wine, a loaf of bread, and several cans of tuna. After the announcement, he’d felt something build inside of him. He had

never felt strongly one way or another about aliens, but now he found that

he firmly believed they should be considered friends and allowed to interact

with the public. They were travelers, just as many people here on Earth

were, and should be treated with respect and hospitality. After discovering

the gathering of people in Alanya through social media, Chase had decided

to join. Videos had been circulating on the Internet showing massive groups

of people camping out in their vans and motorhomes, expressing their

opinions. This was a movement. His mother, back in France, was afraid of him going, saying he was

joining one of these crazy cults growing all over the world. Chase explained

that most of these groups were nonviolent hippies camping out in the desert. These modern-day alien cults held a closer similarity to Burning Man than

the Manson Family. He had been to Burning Man several years ago, had found the festival to be a blast, and was excited to join in something even

bigger and more important. This was the real thing. Life as they knew it

would never be the same. The onboard television at the front of the bus pulled his attention from

the window, featuring a new advertisement from Tesla. Elon Musk jumped

on the recent news and developed a new car in record speed. The

advertisement used comedy when explaining the new car would protect

anyone inside from high radiation, extreme heat fluctuations, and a roll cage

that could withstand the fall of a ten-story collapsed building. Although the

commercial came off as more of a lighthearted joke than a serious attempt

at selling a car, these new vehicles apparently were already being

preordered by the masses. Chapter 34

Higgens nodded his permission to send the message. A monumental

moment in human history, finalized by the simple movement of an

individual’s head and a few key strikes. A message that had been created by

two women from two different nations. Approved by a panel of elected

persons, all with unique backgrounds, experiences, opinions, and cultures. A message that was simple in writing, but authorized a mode of travel so

complex that humans couldn’t understand it. Thanks to Linda’s initial work and her ongoing support in the program,

numbers were one of the first things that were standardized in their

communication with the AS1.

That led to defining units for measurement. This, at first, proved difficult due to the absence of a shared frame of

reference between humans and the AS1.

Fortunately, the dwarf planet Ceres

within the scattered disc region of the Asteroid Belt, offered a solution. Its

proximity to the AS1 ship allowed for the measurement of its diameter,

serving as a fixed point of reference acknowledged by both humans and

AS1.

Leveraging this, humans proceeded to educate the AS1 on the metric

system, utilizing the established distance as a foundational unit. This paved

the way allowing them to clearly define things like distance, locations, time

and everything else that needed to be coordinated. The AS1 were more than willing to learn what computational systems

humans used. They expressed that, since they were coming into our world,

they would be willing to use the scientific standard of the human race. Which seemed logical and somewhat thoughtful. What was a little

unnerving, was the fact that it had seemed so easy for the AS1 to adapt. Higgens considered the fact that for the last several centuries, humans had

not even been able to standardize between metric and imperial, yet the AS1

had so easily and quickly converted to a completely new system. The team had learned that the AS1, when within a solar system, could

travel at nearly one hundred million meters per second, roughly one-third

the speed of light. However, considering acceleration and deceleration

times, they predicted arriving at the proposed location in approximately

forty hours. Additionally, although they had not been able to transfer pictures, as photographs seemed to be a foreign concept to the AS1, the AS1

had provided a preliminary description of their biological buildup. It was

understood that the AS1 were eight feet in height and approximately four

feet wide. It seemed that the AS1 body was mostly spherical with six legs,

and they did require oxygen to survive, just as life on Earth does. After

being provided the atmospheric composition of the ISS, they confirmed

they were fully comfortable in a seventy-two-degree environment made up

of 78 percent nitrogen and 21 percent oxygen, like that on the space station. Although nobody could begin to guess what they actually looked like in

detail, this information had given the engineering team the ability to design

the additional ISS nodes to a spec that would accommodate the AS1

comfortably. The red LED in the wall lit up with the text “Outgoing Message Status.”

Higgens reread the message. He had already gone over it dozens of times,

and countless others had approved, revised, approved again. But he still

wanted to check it one more time. Screen two displayed the message. -

—

The United Nations of Earth grants the receiver of the message, AS1, permission to approach

with your spacecraft to the agreed and included coordinates. Assuming no malfunctions or

change in your desires, we, the human race, expect the AS1 to arrive at the location of orbital

inclination of 51.6 degrees from Earth, ground point 51.11 south, 118.71 east. In approximately

41.5 Earth hours. We request that you confirm this time and location and begin your journey in

48 Earth hours. We respect and appreciate your patience and compliance. We look forward to

meeting you. -

—

Higgens hit the transmit approval button and the new instructions turned

the text from red to green. Higgens hovered his mouse over the “send”

button. After one more deep breath he clicked. The LED text changed to

orange with the words, “Message sent.”

There was no going back now, and he hoped that the decision they had

just made was the right one. Chapter 35

Gideon stood in line at the cafeteria, not looking forward to whatever lunch

option they were serving today, when his phone dinged. It was Linda. “Umairah has been removed from launch team. Go see Higgens ASAP.”

Umairah Rafidi, the president of UNOOSA was the pre-authorized First

Contact Specialist. Gideon didn’t know what had come up, but he didn’t

care. He knew he was on the shortlist of backups to replace someone. He left his tray on the counter and quickly walked down to Higgens’s

office. Gideon knocked on the door and opened it just as Higgens answered. Higgens sat behind his desk with his eyebrows raised at Gideon barging in. “Can I help you?”

“I’d like to apply for the First Contact Specialist seat, now that Umairah

is out,” Gideon said. He stood ramrod straight and stared into Higgens’s

eyes. Higgens dropped the paper in his hand and leaned back in his chair. “So,

you’ve heard she’s out?

Word spreads fast around here apparently. That’s

what I’m trying to fix right now. Launch team orientation begins in one

week. You know I want you on the team, Gideon, but there is too much

work to do to get you up to speed. Jamal wants to go with someone who has

NASA experience, that will speed up the process.”

“But I’m already on the alternate roster, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“I don’t know who else is on the roster, but there is no way someone has

more experience working with the AS1 than I do.”

“Look, Gideon, I know you want to go, but I’m up to my eyeballs here in

regulations. Look at this.” He pointed to his desk. “We’re creating standards

and SOPs here that have never existed before, and I don’t have time to put

together a whole new training program in less than a week to get you on the

shuttle. It just won’t work.”

“Sir, that’s why I’m here. That’s why I barged in. Who else is here

standing in front of you?

I’m ready to go right now.”

“Gideon, look—”

“With all due respect, sir. If you are creating policy and SOPs, why not

create it so I can go. I mean, look at all of what we’re doing. We’re all

doing this from scratch. The seat that is up for grabs is the First Contact

Specialist, that’s me.”

Higgens steepled his fingers and frowned. This kid always seemed to find

a way to weasel into situations. “I know my qualifications on paper are nothing compared to those of the

other chosen individuals, but my involvement in the initial contact should

speak for itself, shouldn’t it?”

“A team of six, known as the Contact Team,” Higgens said. “You really

think you are one of the six that should go?”

“Without a doubt.”

Gideon paused to make Higgens speak first. He and Higgens had grown a

trusting rapport throughout the countless long days working together on

Operation SD. He had to hope that would count for something. After a long silence, Higgens rubbed his forehead and leaned his elbows

on the desk. “Let me see what I can do, kid.”

“Thank you, sir.” Gideon wheeled around on his heels and left the room. The moment the door closed behind him, he rotated and slammed his back

into the wall, his weak knees letting his weight go until he slid down far

enough for his butt to hit the carpet. He sat there, regaining his breath. Never had he pushed himself that hard, but he had to go. He had to see this

through and that meant going to the ISS. The rest of the afternoon passed slower than any other day Gideon had

ever experienced. Finally, he received an email telling him to meet in

conference room 503 at 16:00.

Gideon got there ten minutes early, only to

end up having to wait … and wait. Finally, it was 16:17 and he was still

waiting outside. Gideon rose from the chair and paced back and forth outside the

conference room. Inside, Higgens was surely on the phone discussing his

future. Time crawled on and just as he felt he had built up the courage to storm

in and see what was going on, Higgens opened the door. He looked at

Gideon with a face that betrayed no intentions. “Come on in,” he beckoned,

motioning with his hand. Gideon stepped quietly into the conference room and slid into one of the

chairs. Higgens sat down across from him. “The team is going to be led by

Declan Wilter,” said Higgens. “As head of SETI and having astronaut

experience, there isn’t a man more qualified. He will report directly to UN

secretary-general Jamal Uddin and me. Next, there’s going to be a linguist,

and that position is going to your colleague, Linda.”

Gideon noticed himself smiling at the news that Linda was part of the

team. He was happy for her. Though he was still very much preoccupied

with the question of whether he was going to make the cut or not, it still felt

comforting to know that his new friend would be included. “Then there’s going to be a technical support person who’ll be

responsible for logging data records and supplying essential IT support to

the group,” Higgens was saying. “We still need to fill this spot, but it needs

to be someone with previous astronaut experience.”

Gideon nodded. “There will be two scientists and researchers of various fields, one being

Rajit.”

Again, Gideon felt his heart jump knowing another one of his close

colleagues would have the opportunity to meet the AS1.

Although he

wondered if Rajit had agreed to it yet. Ever since the beginning, it was clear

Rajit was not comfortable with the concept of aliens. “Newly added to the team will be Carter Walters, a scientist with an

unmatched résumé, graduating from Oxford University and winning a

Nobel Prize for his work in topological order and the development of

synthetic molecules. He is a theoretical physicist by trade but is also known

for his chemistry knowledge. His most recent claim to fame was his work in

ionizing radiation under microgravity, conducted on the ISS eight years

ago.” A brief look of dissatisfaction passed over Higgens’s face. “He has a

reputation for being overly honest and a bit arrogant.”

“The final slot had originally been expected to be filled by Umairah

Rafidi, a pre-authorized First Contact Specialist and the head of UNOOSA. But due to her age she’s been determined unfit for space flight, as you

know. Now, the fact that our First Contact Specialist is unfit for space flight

seems a bit absurd, but I suppose nobody predicted we would actually be

meeting aliens on the ISS, all contingency plans had us either sending communications from Earth to an alien civilization or ship, or the aliens

came directly to Earth … Anyways, I digress.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate, sir,” said Gideon smugly. Higgens laughed off

the words. “Unfortunate my ass,” he said, still chuckling. “You’re so excited for a

chance to go, it looks like your eyes are about to pop out of your head.”

Gideon didn’t doubt that at all. Traveling to space had been a dream since

childhood. Traveling to space to meet an intelligent race of aliens didn’t

even fall into a category. He needed to go. He allowed himself a brief little

laugh. “So …”

“Not sure why I bust my ass so much for you. You got the spot, but with

an on-call candidate that will swoop in to relieve you of that privilege faster

than you can blink. Your primary objective will be assisting Declan. I’ll

send details over shortly.”

Gideon sat there dumbly, barely believing what was happening. “We have to get you through the intro astronaut selection training. That

starts tomorrow at 0600 hours.” Higgens checked his watch. “No, we’re not

turning you into an astronaut overnight, but we have to make sure you don’t

die on takeoff.”

“I can do it,” Gideon said. “I’ll pass whatever tests you need.”

Higgens nodded and smiled on one side of his face. “Easy to say now;

you might think different when you’re halfway through the centrifuge G-

force simulator and your stomach is plastered to your backbone.”

“I can do it.”

“I’m putting a lot on the line for you, Gideon. You pass or else I’ll look

like a fool. Don’t fail me.”

“I won’t.”

“I know you won’t. But—to be honest, kid,” Higgens began. “Don’t

think this is me doing you a favor, that isn’t why you’re going. You are not

just a random, off-chance replacement because someone else couldn’t go. Truth is, most of us wanted you for this spot in the first place.”

Gideon had no words. “You’re bright,” Higgens went on. “You think outside the box, and you

know your shit. I don’t think you discovering that signal was a coincidence,

and I’m not the only one who thinks that. You found it because of

intellectual curiosity, consistency, and hard work. OK, and maybe just a little bit of luck.” Higgens laughed. “What I’m saying is, because of your

dedication and pivotal support of Operation SD, you have earned this spot. You are the right person for the job.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gideon said, thinking this might be the first time he had

ever heard Higgens say something complimentary. “So, I’m really going?” said Gideon with a smile, barely able to hear his

own words over the drumming of his heart. Higgens held up a finger. “If you can pass the intro astronaut assessment, and your physical checks

out … and if you don’t screw anything up. Then, you’re going,” Higgens

confirmed. “That’ll be all for now.” And he motioned with his head at the

door. Chapter 36

“Ship speed has slowed to fifty-two thousand meters per second and is two

million kilometers out from location,” Higgens said. The SD team got the president and her cabinet on the line. “Madam President, we’ve been tracking the AS1 ship for the last eight

hours and the communication time delay is now down to just twelve

minutes.”

Gideon still had to catch himself that he was living in a world where

having the president on a conference call to brief her on the deceleration of

an alien spacecraft was normal. “Calculating the ship’s speed was challenging, as the ship appears to be

moving faster than it actually is, an illusion that occurs when an object’s

origin is vastly further away than its destination and moving at a high rate

of speed.” Higgens paused. “I’m tracking you, go on.” The president’s voice was calm and collected

as always. “When the ship departed from its original location, it appeared to leave

thirty-five minutes later than reality, due to the time it takes light to reach

Earth. Once it begins its journey, this time delay shortens as it nears its final

destination. In the case of the AS1 ship, the observed travel time from Earth

would be forty-one hours, but the actual travel time would take forty-one

hours and thirty minutes.”

“Ship speed continues to slow, now moving at a rate of thirty-four

thousand meters per second, on course for our agreed-upon location,” Kade,

one of the technicians, called out. “That is one hell of a deceleration,” Gideon mumbled, impressed by the

craft’s abilities after doing some reading about modern-day human space

travel. “Estimated arrival in twenty minutes.”

“Communication lines are open.”

Higgens’s sweaty palm had not left the red telephone for the last hour. Although optimistic, his mind continued to replay alternative scenarios over

and over. What if the AS1 ship failed to stop at the agreed location or deviated from course. If one of these scenarios merged into reality, he

would make a call issuing a warning flare to be launched in the direction of

the craft, it would take our seemingly inferior technologies almost three

hundred days to reach the ship. This being known, the secretary of defense

confirmed that the ship would detect our reaction and assume the ship

would see it as a warning. If no change of course was made, a series of

nuclear warheads would be armed and await the ship to reach a distance of

five hundred thousand kilometers before being launched. Higgens knew the

odds of one of the nukes actually hitting the craft were as likely as hitting a

sparrow out of the air with a hand-thrown rock. Numbers began flowing across screen one, showing the deceleration of

the ship. The numbers were good—consistent deceleration and on course. Hope pulled confidence and assurance into his nervous system. “Ship’s speed is now twelve thousand and holding, one million

kilometers from location.”

In the large room of people, few words were spoken. Emotions ranged

from excitement to fear. None of these emotions needed an audible

representation to be detected, the faces of the people said it all. Time felt

slow, inching by as if intentionally dragging out the suspense, only to be set

back to normal once words broke the silence, giving time a reference. “Ship has stopped, shows no movement, and is located precisely at our

specified location.”

Applause erupted from the room. “Madam President,” Higgens said. “We are good to go for confirmation

communication.”

“Thank you,” President Helland said over the line. “I will be contacting

the UN secretary-general immediately.”

“Thank you, Madam President,” Higgens said. The president’s line went dead, and Higgens looked around with a

massive smile. Gideon hugged Linda. With the warmth he suddenly realized this was the

first time he had hugged someone in over two years, since his departure

from Idaho. Typically uncomfortable with human contact, today he felt

there was no way to better cherish the moment. When the two separated he saw tears running down her face. “You OK?” he asked. She nodded, but didn’t seem able to speak, a linguist who was unable to

formulate words. Once her brain had reconnected with the movements of

her mouth, she whispered, “It’s just really incredible, isn’t it?”

Gideon nodded his agreement. A loud ping hushed the excited chatter that had consumed the room. “Incoming message!” Kade yelled. “Screen two.”

-

—

Please confirm your satisfaction with our location. Our ship’s thrust is powered down and will

not be turned back on until decided by both AS1 and humans. We will have our transport ship

prepared with a team in 48 hours and awaiting your permission to approach the International

Space Station. We look forward to meeting you. Chapter 37

Nerves wicked the final bit of moisture from Gideon’s mouth. To his left sat

Linda and to his right was Rajit, who seemed to be the most scared of

anyone. Neither of them had been to space before. They were now strapped

to a Falcon 9 Block 5 rocket manufactured by SpaceX, which would have

them docked to the Space Station inside of six hours. The ship had been

given the name FET, for Flight to ET. The rocket was all white with two

orange bands around the midsection and the new world flag painted on the

sides. Gideon had mused that instead of looking like the classic NASA

Space Shuttle, the entire rocket had a very similar shape to the classic

homemade rocket kits he would launch into the sky as a kid. It had four

large fins at the bottom and one long cylindrical body. The nose cone was

where Gideon and the crew nervously awaited launch. This would be the sixth launch from Kennedy Space Center in Cape

Canaveral, Florida, to the International Space Station, the first five being

unmanned supply runs in the last few weeks. All had been performed

flawlessly. Despite the perfect success rate, every person in the craft was

running over the safety training videos in their minds, keeping their focus. The shuttle gave a noticeable shake, causing Rajit to let out a muffled,

“Ahh, goddammit.”

Gideon couldn’t see Rajit’s face as they were all seated shoulder to

shoulder, seats leaned back so they were nearly on their backs, but he could

only imagine his eyes were squeezed shut in anticipation. The small

window in front of them revealed nothing but blue sky. “Launch in one minute—maintain steady breathing,” came into their

helmets from a voice Gideon did not know. If everything went to plan, the crew would never have to do a thing. All

launch and docking maneuvers were automated. Gideon thought back on his last conversation he’d had with his mom

after he gained permission from Waller to tell her he would be going to

space. “Like to the moon, you mean?” she had asked. “No, Mom. We’ll be going to the International Space Station,” he replied

with a chuckle. “Oh yes!

I saw a documentary on that up on the PBS show. Looks like a

lot of complicated stuff up there. Why you headed there?” The sound of her

voice always gave Gideon a sense of comfort, despite their strained past

relationship. “To go meet the AS1, Mom,” Gideon replied. “Dear God, son, that’s what you’ve been wrapped up in all this time?

Those godforsaken creatures are real?

You really think so?

Uncle Tommy

been sayin’ it’s just a political stunt to get more funding for NASA to

develop some type of new military weapon,” she replied in a hushed voice,

as if she was now worried the phone line was bugged. “Yes, the AS1 are real, and I’m going to go meet them,” Gideon replied. A long silence held on the other line. “I’m proud of you, Gid. I don’t say that enough. Your brilliant mind was

always just too much for us to know how to deal with. When you were just

a baby, you had already memorized every phone number in town … I used

to ask you stuff like, ‘Gid, what’s Doctor Tom’s line?

I need to schedule

you and your brother a checkup.’” The line went silent again. “I can’t lose another son; you be careful out there you hear?” she finally

said. “I will,” Gideon replied before hanging up the phone. A loud hiss filled the small compartment, bringing him back to the present. Gideon’s heart raced, he felt like he was at the top of a carnival ride, just

waiting for the big drop. But this was no carnival ride, they had been

trained to be ready for the most intense acceleration they had, and ever

would, experience in their lives. “Commencing countdown.”

“Mission F - E - T to launch in ten.”

Gideon closed his eyes. 9

8

7

Sudden loud breathing filled his helmet. 6

Gideon tapped Rajit and motioned to the microphone. 5

Rajit muted his mic. Gideon felt his own heartbeat in the silence. 4

3

Intense vibrations …

2

1

No amount of centrifuge training could have prepared him for this. It felt

as though every organ in his body was plastered to the back of his rib cage. Although fear still consumed him, the pressure was so great his mind was

intensely focused on the present discomfort. Inertia plus gravity held him

firmly to the seat back. He tried to initiate the motions of pushing air

through his teeth, a practice they had learned in training, but was unable to

focus and simply gritted his teeth, something they were in fact told not to

do. The vibrations were insane, shaking his stressed body violently. He sat

there in awe, completely disoriented and unable to focus on anything

besides the war they were playing with physics. After several minutes the intensity waned ever so slightly, and Gideon

began to relish the intense experience. It was all a part of the journey, after

all. When this was all over, he would remember every part of this. Every

step on the way to meeting the aliens. Every hurdle, every discomfort, every

spectacular sight. A story that would be told for generations. This is what it

took for humans to meet an alien species and he was going to absorb every

moment. Straining the muscle in his neck, he moved his head slightly to the left

and then to the right. Just able to see the other five astronauts shaking from

the vibrations in silence, it was an image he would never forget. Five

scientists, the Contact Team, ambitious in their motives, on their way to

meet another race of highly intelligent beings. The acceleration began to lessen and the crew looked at each other,

nodding signs of confidence and approval. Vibrations slowed and Gideon

knew they must be getting into the thinner atmosphere. Within five minutes, they had cleared the Kármán line. At this point they were permitted to

loosen their harnesses three clicks. This brought with it the first feeling of

weightlessness, noticeable by the lack of pressure on the parts of his body

that his weight should have been sitting on. The feeling of weightlessness

took some getting used to. It felt like being in free fall, Gideon leaned

forward slightly, allowing him to see past the sphere of Linda’s helmet. The

view outside the small window was astonishing. Earth was beautiful. He raised his hand and Linda returned a high five. He saw her open her

mouth and yell, but everything was still completely silent within his helmet. Turning toward Rajit he lifted his hand again. Rajit made eye contact and

shook his head but managed a smile, his hand remaining tightly grasped to

the metal armrests. Just as the team was beginning to relax, the aggressive blast of the

thruster changed the orientation of the FET. Gideon felt a wave of nausea

pass over him as it felt like they were beginning to spin forward over the

nose of the ship. He tried to keep his eyes locked on Earth as it now passed

overhead, a tactic they had been taught in flight school, similar to keeping

your eyes locked on land when fighting seasickness on a rocking boat. Another aggressive jolt stopped the rotation and the International Space

Station came into view. The size of the ISS surprised Gideon, appearing

eerily small in that vastness of space. They approached at a steady pace and

once twenty yards away, the FET slowed to an inch per second before

making contact and locking on to the ISS PMA-2 airlock. Gideon tried to

visualize the Space Station layout in his mind. Rajit met Gideon’s eye; his perspiration was beginning to fog up the lens

of his helmet. “How are you feeling?” Gideon asked on the direct line. “Better now, I guess … I need to get out of this suit.” His eyes were wide

as he looked around. Gideon nodded his agreement. Being in a seated position for over six

hours in a bulky, confining, orange “pumpkin suit” was less than

comfortable. The physical discomfort along with the mental stress of

shooting into space strapped to a massive rocket made the overall

experience far from pleasant. Although still loosely strapped into place,

Gideon could now feel the zero gravity. He detected a difference in his belly, the way his skin pressed against the space suit, even the spit in his

mouth felt different. “We have the all-clear. Begin unstrapping sequence; remember, focus on

the routines you learned on A300.” Technician Astronaut John Brandon was

confident and unwavering as he unclipped, gracefully floating a 180-degree

rotation to face the team, making sure everyone else was releasing their

harnesses without issue. A300 was a modified Boeing 727-200 used to

simulate zero-g. Gideon and the team had done several different trips

aboard the plane to learn the effects and routines to deal with zero-g. Gideon’s helmet detached with a small hiss and sounds filled his ears. The sensation was relieving after being in what felt like a muffled vacuum

for hours. The first voice he heard was Rajit. “Oh dear God, man, that’s nice.” Rajit’s dark skin looked clammy and

almost pale. “You fucking made it, man.” Gideon smiled, genuinely proud. Several times throughout the astronaut training, Gideon had thought Rajit

was going to quit. For a man terrified of flying across the country in a

Boeing 737, boarding a rocket to be hurled into space seemed impossible. One night after training, the two of them had sat in the car together. They

talked about the fact that they had been selected as six people in a world of

nearly eight billion to meet an extraterrestrial life form. An opportunity that

would never arise again. This motivation had given Rajit the strength to put

his fears behind him. Now seeing his colleague about to board the

International Space Station gave Gideon a feeling of warmth. “Welcome to space, team!

This moment is just the first of many

monumental steps we will take as a collective in pushing the limits of

human discovery!” Declan announced, theatrically. Gideon couldn’t help rolling his eyes as he had learned Declan was a

personality of clichés and many words. He then began working on the

zipper of his “pumpkin suit.” Once the final clip was released, Gideon

instantly felt the full effect of weightlessness. Although hardly moving, he

felt no pressure between his buttocks and the firm seat that he had been

pressed against. After some awkward wiggling, he floated out of the bulky

orange suit. Giving a slight push, he began to rise, instantly forgetting

everything he had learned on the KC-135.

He tried to reach above himself

to grab the ceiling, which only set him into a slow rotation. His shoulder hit first, shortly followed by his hip and feet, leaving him awkwardly pressed

against the ceiling. With all eyes on him, he forced a smile and a “OK”

hand signal. Others began presenting their own variations of Gideon’s maneuvers. Linda, Rajit, and Gideon were the least trained individuals to have ever

been to space, with only a two-week intensive training course. Once the team stabilized, Brandon floated to the control panel and after

several keystrokes and a series of back-and-forth radio checks, the airlock

opened, connecting the space of the FET rocket and Space Station. On the

other side was the ISS team, dressed in clothes similar to a doctor’s scrubs. It was a crew of four, two of whom would take the FET back to Earth. The

other two would remain on the ISS to help the Contact Team navigate the

Space Station as well as continue their everyday duties. They all had

beaming smiles and welcomed them with waves and handshakes. Brandon reached out and put his hand on Rajit’s shoulder. “The hard part

is over.”

Gideon met Brandon after his first week of training when he was brought

in as an instructor to help him and the other new astronauts get up to speed. He was fifty-two years old and had been to the ISS on two separate

occasions. His life’s work was engineering and developing ISS

communication and computer systems. Both of his visits had been for

troubleshooting and upgrading the ISS. One look at him and you would

think NASA astronaut. He stood around five foot six and had pale skin and

dark brown hair with plenty of silver mixed in, just long enough to cover

the tops of his ears. His face was clean-shaven with the exception of the

thick bushy mustache that seemed just a little bit too long. His glasses were

a thin wire aviator shape. He was a relatively quiet man and only seemed to

speak when it was required. Carter, on the other hand, the seasoned astronaut second in command to

Declan, matched as Gideon had expected, based on his bio and résumé.

His

arrogance was obvious in his handsome, chocolate-skin looks, tall, strong

stature and overconfident demeanor. Although highly gifted in intelligence,

based on his many awards and life accomplishments, he seemed to take

enjoyment in giving others time to think about something before providing

them the answer. Rajit, color now beginning to fill his face again, smiled back at Brandon

and nodded quickly as if trying to seem fine, but only proving that he was

not. Carter chuckled smoothly. Linda shot him a look. “Get off your high horse, Carter; I heard you

puked the first time you set foot on the ISS.”

Carter’s smile faded into a flat line that pointed to his clenched jawbone. “Well, I can tell you, the ride used to be a bit bumpier back in the day. But thank you for the reminder, I am sure that’s information all of us were

looking to hear, Linda.”

Gideon and the team focused their attention on the four astronauts

greeting them into the Space Station. First to speak was a woman wearing her brown hair in a tight bun. Gideon realized this was likely the only option for long hair in zero gravity. She appeared to be in her late thirties and in impressively good shape. “Welcome to the International Space Station!” the woman exclaimed

with a beaming smile. “It is always a pleasure to have new company, we rarely get any up here.”

She chuckled and gave Brandon a hug. “Brandon!

Great to see you, it’s

been a long time huh?

What is this, your third time up?”

“That would be correct.” Brandon smiled. “Anyway, we really look forward to working with you all during your

time here. For starters, I am Michelle; I’ll be heading up most of the

operations here.”

Gideon felt a hand push him to the side as Declan made his way to the

front to shake Michelle’s hand. “I’m Declan, the lead of the Contact Team and president of SETI. Nice to

meet you.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Michelle replied. She then gestured to a short man

hanging from the ceiling above her, requesting that he introduce himself. “I am Crach, from Russia,” he replied, animated as a robot. “The two of us will be remaining here with you six for the duration of

your stay. Charlie and Dennis will be heading back on the FET.” Michelle

gestured to the two others casually floating behind, who waved. “Please follow Crach to Node 1 and take some time to relax and adjust to

the zero gravity, he can make you a delicious cup of space coffee. I will remain here with Charlie and Dennis to get them prepared for departure.”

The team began to follow Crach into the Space Station. “Actually, Brandon, would you mind hanging back and helping us run

through the safety check before sending ’em home?” Michelle called to the

group. “Sure thing,” Brandon replied, looking excited to jump back into the ISS

mechanics. He gracefully grabbed one of the handles in front of himself,

spinning his floating body into a front flip. Once he had rotated 180

degrees, he moved his feet outward, catching one of the walls with both feet

and pushed himself in the opposite direction, back toward Michelle and the

team. Gideon, who was struggling to keep himself from banging into the

walls as he clumsily made his way down the tunnel, was impressed by his

grace. Chapter 38

Gideon and the team floated in delight, playing with the zero gravity, a

sensation Gideon assumed could never get old. Crach glided into the room

holding five silver bags. They looked similar to snack-size ziplocks made

from foil. “I hope none of you wanted decaf.” Crach’s Russian accent sounded

serious as he distributed the bags. “Stronger the better.” Rajit finally appeared to be on the road to recovery

after the traumatic flight. Gideon tore the marked tab from one corner of the silver packet and

squeezed some dark brown fluid into his mouth. He was shocked by the

smooth taste. He looked up to see Carter drinking the fluid while holding the bag

almost a foot from his face. The dark coffee flowed through the air in a

straight but oscillating line. Clearly not his first space coffee, Gideon

thought. “Crach, this is excellent!” Linda was as impressed as Gideon. “You can thank the Italians,” Crach said, still not smiling. “Back in 2015

they ran an experiment called ISSpresso and developed the first space

espresso machine. After a bit of convincing and fudged paperwork, we were

able to keep the machine here after its success. Coffee beans are sent up

with the food, labeled as ‘energy’ and categorized as medicinal.”

“I see things haven’t changed much since my last visit here, spending the

people’s money so we can enjoy the best coffee in space.” Carter smirked

and gulped the last of his coffee stream. “Oh, lighten up, it’s just a coffee,” Declan said. Michelle came gliding into the area, Brandon just behind. “Enjoying your ISSpresso?

Good, good!

Well, OK!

We are all set,

Charlie and Dennis headed to their crew quarters to rest up for tomorrow’s

departure, sleeping like two little bugs in a rug. I can give you guys a quick

briefing and tour.”

Gideon held up his coffee packet in a sort of salute. “Follow me, we’ll start in Columbus, the laboratory on the starboard side,

front area. Here is a laminated map of the ISS.”

She elegantly passed the map to each new crew member, similarly to how

someone would throw a playing card but in slow motion, floating smoothly

through the air. As she glided away, Gideon and the team struggled to keep up, clumsily

pushing themselves down the tight passageways—they laughed at each

other’s fumbling. After some effort, they arrived at the lab and Michelle got

their attention. “The Columbus Laboratory is a European lab and is also used by the

Americans quite often. AS1 activities will have top priority; however, this

lab will continue to be used for microgravity research, which helps us

understand the effects of microgravity on various biological and physical

processes, such as cell growth, protein crystallization, and fluid dynamics. I

am in charge of keeping things up and running in this lab, so don’t expect

anything too exciting back here.”

Gideon grabbed one of the blue handles on the wall and hooked his right

foot into a strap, anchoring his body, and preventing him from floating

away. The room, better described as a section of the long hallway, was

covered in laptops, clipped floating wires and metal work benches on all

four walls. The amount of equipment packed into the small space, which

was similar in size to the inside of a U-Haul moving truck, was mind-

blowing. Organized chaos were the first words that crept into his brain. “The only reason you will need to be in here,” Michelle continued after

the team had made their observations, “is to take your daily blood samples. Do you remember your training on this?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Rajit replied, his face beginning to look pale again. “Good, if you need help or have any questions, myself, Crach or Brandon

can assist you.”

“I’ve also been here a few times as well,” Carter chimed in. Seeming

annoyed he wasn’t mentioned. “Yes, but I’m sure you have better things to do than help the newbies.”

Carter shrugged his agreement. “Anyway,” Michelle said, regaining everyone’s focus. “Now we’ll head

to Node 2, also known as Harmony which, as you know, is where FET is

currently docked. Most of our supplies will come in from there.”

Node 2 was bigger than Columbus, but not by much. Its main purpose

was a place for incoming payloads to dock—incoming supply ships,

shuttles, or additional nodes. Slightly further aft were four crew quarters. One on each wall, including

what in a gravity environment, would be considered the floor and ceiling. Gideon was quickly realizing that in the space station there is no floor or

ceiling, just four walls. The crew quarters, two of which were currently

occupied by Charlie and Dennis, were small rectangular cubbies maybe

seven feet tall and three feet deep and wide. They were equipped with a brownish-green sleeping bag held to the wall by an attachment at the top

and bottom. Across from the sleeping bag sat two laptops. Michelle

explained that the Contact Team’s quarters were located in the newly

attached Node 4.

“Also recently attached is the SSH, or Safety StrongHold, which is

connected to Node 2.”

As the team listened, Michelle re-explained the process they had learned

on Earth. The procedure required that throughout the entire duration of the

AS1 occupying the ISS, an individual, rotating between Crach, Michelle,

and Declan, would be locked inside the SSH. Here they had the ability to

communicate directly to Earth, disengage PMA-AS1, which would be the

attachment point of the AS1 ship, or disengage the entire AS1 Section, at

the AS1 Section door lock. Once disengaged, a hard thrust would push the

AS1 occupied sections away from Earth and the ISS in the event of an

emergency or hostile AS1.

From Node 2 they continued to glide back into the ISS in the aft

direction. They passed through the primary US lab, known as Destiny,

where much of Carter’s and Rajit’s research would be accomplished. This

lab had a similar look to that of Columbus but was larger and seemed to

have more laptop workstations. Soon they circled back to Node 1 where

they had received their ISSpresso. Gideon was still in shock at the number

of wires and pieces of electrical equipment floating off the walls. More than

once his foot had caught in a loose wire, tugging at it as he drifted by, he

wondered if this was dangerous. With the lack of gravity, nothing would lie

flat without being strapped down, giving everything a disorganized look. Next, they made their way to Node 3 also known as Tranquility, which

was just adjacent to Node 1.

This small space contained a treadmill, weight

rack, and bathroom. This area had fewer loose wires than the others. “Now of course we have to check out the Cupola, everyone’s favorite

part!” Michelle looked excited. “The Cupola, which means ‘dome’ in Italian, has seven windows and is

used to conduct experiments, dockings, and observations of Earth. Really,

this is where we go to think. Sometimes I just really need to look out a

window. Please, take turns and check it out, it’s pretty amazing!” Michelle

was beaming. Rajit and Linda went in first, and he could hear their gasps. Once they

came back out, Gideon floated in for a look. The entrance was small, maybe

around four feet wide. The interior of the Cupola was mostly windows,

bordered by black metal, which was a noticeable contrast to the rest of the

ISS’s white walls and structure. Gideon gazed upon the view from the windows in awe. The size of Earth

from the ISS perspective was breathtaking. Gideon had expected to see

Earth as a spherical planet, similar to the pictures you see from the moon. He quickly realized that the orbit of the ISS in relation to the Earth was

really not that far away, and from the Cupola he could only see about a third

of the horizon stretching in a graceful arc. The clouds looked like swirling

water frozen in time. Gideon took one final look before pushing himself back out, wanting to

give others the chance to observe. Michelle faced the team. “Any questions so far?

Cool stuff, isn’t it?!

Good, now we are heading into the new zones.” She motioned for the team

to follow. “This is Node 4 also known as Odyssey. We attached this bad boy just a

few weeks ago and yours truly got to dock it,” Michelle said, pointing her

thumbs toward herself. Node 4 was clearly newer than the other sections. The walls were

perfectly white and the metallics gleamed. Node 4 contained eight crew

quarters; Michelle pointed out which of the six were assigned to the Contact

Team. She then distributed a personalized iPad to each team member,

giving a quick run-through on its functions. All matched exactly with what

they had been taught on Earth. She shifted her gaze to the large metal door

at the back of the node. The door appeared to be brushed steel and had the

large words “ACCESS TO AS1 ZONE: Permitted Personnel Only” written

across in large red font. Michelle turned toward Carter. “Carter, will you do the honors of opening the AS1 Section door lock?”

He pushed his way to the door, not seeming to care about making contact

with shoulders. He scanned his fingerprint and inserted the mechanical key

they had all been given. The mechanical key was a last-minute safety

precaution in the event the AS1 were able to hack the ISS computer

systems. Sometimes the oldest methods still proved to be the most reliable. Once the unlocking sequence was completed, the AS1 Section door was

manually slid out of the way on a pivoting hinge. Carter gestured grandly

for everyone to enter. The team drifted through the small diameter, and the

door was manually closed and locked behind them, which had to be done

within thirty seconds to prevent an alarm from sounding. The crew had

been given very strict orders to ensure the door remained closed at all times

as the AS1 were not permitted to leave the AS1 Zone, which included

BEAM2, Progress Laboratory and of course, their own ship. Gideon for the first time, felt a sense of unease, being locked into a room. He felt trapped. He took a deep breath and focused his attention on the

surroundings. Now in the Progress Lab, things started to look very different. The lab was significantly larger and less cluttered. This was to

accommodate the large body size of the AS1.

The lab was set up with

various laptops, microscopes, and other stations. Both Carter and Rajit’s

eyes widened at the sight of some of the most technologically advanced lab

equipment known to man. Michelle spent a full twenty minutes explaining the capabilities and types

of equipment in the Progress Lab, but Gideon’s mind began to wander. Trying to visualize that in seventy-two hours, this room would contain an

alien. An alien that was much larger and perhaps far more intelligent than

the humans who would be attempting to teach it. And they would be locked

in here with it. Again, a dark feeling of doubt and fear chewed away at his

subconscious. Michelle’s overly excited voice regained his attention. “Attached directly

above the Progress Laboratory is BEAM2, which was, for you history buffs,

designed after the original BEAM, an experimental Bigelow Expandable

Activity Module used back in 2016 for storage. This is the largest open

space of nine hundred eighty-five cubic feet, almost double that of the

original BEAM. This is where we will be conducting daily interviews with

the AS1.”

Gideon’s attention was perked up as this was going to be one of his main

jobs paired with Declan, although many of the questions would be provided

to them by analysts back on Earth. They observed the large open space that almost reminded him of the

inside of a recording studio. The white walls were pillowed, which he assumed was for sound quality. There were several microphones and

computers stowed away in the back. The team floated back down into Progress and turned their attention to

where the AS1 would enter onto the ISS. “Now, this is the Transfer Zone. Its main purpose is to be an airlock

between the AS1 Spacecraft and the ISS. The purpose of this airlock is to

prevent the transfer of contaminants between the two spaces. As you can

see it has two doors, one between Progress and the Transfer Zone and

another between the Transfer Zone and the AS1 spacecraft. One door will

be kept closed while the other is opened so when the AS1 enters the ISS

there is no mixing of their ship’s environment and our ISS environment.”

The Transfer Zone contained two small windows, the first looking into

the blackness of space. This could be used, in addition to the Cupola, to

observe the attached AS1 ship, the second was on the door to the Transfer

Zone, allowing the team to see in. “And well, that just about wraps up this version of MTV Cribs, ISS

edition!” Michelle said happily. Gideon noticed Crach roll his eyes and

figured this was probably not the first time she had used this tagline. “Any questions?

Nothing?” she pressed. At this point, the team had been awake for nearly twenty-four hours and

everyone was exhausted. Most of the crew shook their heads and began

making their way back to their quarters in Node 4.

With only seventy hours

until the AS1 arrival, the team needed to rest and begin prep first thing after

some well-deserved sleep. Chapter 39

Gideon pulled himself into the Cupola, still groggy from his deep sleep, to

find Rajit facing the center window. In an attempt not to disturb Rajit,

Gideon tried to enter the small space slowly and quietly. He pushed himself

off the wall and his hand clasped the upper handle, but his feet continued

moving toward Rajit as if of their own accord. Gideon went into an off-axis

backflip. His feet, nearly hitting Rajit in the back of the head, made a loud

thump against the borosilicate bulletproof glass. Startled, Rajit turned his head to see Gideon trying to right himself. “Sorry, man, just as I thought I was getting comfortable with zero

gravity.” Gideon was slightly red in the face. “No worries, I hit my head there when I came in.” Rajit pointed to the

grease print of a forehead on the front window. Rajit’s smile had a way of making anyone feel welcome, and Gideon

laughed at the vision of the short man running headfirst into the window. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it?

Doubt it will ever get old.” Gideon gazed at the

large blue and white planet framed in the window. “Indeed.” Rajit turned his head to the incredible view. They shared a moment of awe for several minutes. “As you probably noted, I couldn’t come to terms with the concept of

aliens just a few months ago.” Rajit’s voice was quiet. “Sure, I’m a scientist

and always understood the probability of us being the only form of life in

the universe as unlikely. But intelligent life?

Reaching out to us?” He shook

his head. “No, it doesn’t seem possible.” He sighed. Gideon observed a man torn by beliefs and questions. “What else have I, or we as humans, been wrong about?”

Gideon didn’t know what to say. Rajit turned back to the window. “It frightens me, just thinking of all the

knowledge they might have, the technologies they have likely perfected.”

Rajit’s shoulders slumped. “We’re at their mercy, you know?”

“Are you scared?”

“I am, on so many levels, Gideon. I have no reason to believe they have

ill intentions, but no matter how I run it in my head, I just don’t see a way their presence can benefit humanity.”

“What if they have technologies and knowledge that help us?

Like with

climate change, sustainable energy, things like that?”

“You think they will just hand it over?

We can’t possibly have anything

useful to give them in return, can we?

So, what do they really want from

us?”

“Maybe we do. An invention can come anytime; it may not be directly

related to technological advancement. Maybe they aren’t nearly as

advanced as we think. Perhaps, they just discovered space travel before us. We could have lots of knowledge and technologies that they do not.”

Rajit seemed to consider this. “I believe they are what they say they are: scientists and explorers excited

to finally meet another intelligent species,” Gideon continued. “Intelligent,” Rajit said back, rubbing his temples. “And what is the unit of measurement for intelligence?

We just base the

scale off of what we know. Bugs have low levels of computational

intelligence and humans have high levels. That is our scale. We have no

way of knowing what the AS1 scale looks like. To them, we could be on the

same scale to them as bugs are to us.”

Part III

CONTACT

All we know is still infinitely less than all that remains unknown. – William Harvey

Chapter 40

Gideon, Declan, Linda, Carter, Brandon, Rajit, Michelle, and Crach floated

in nervous silence inside the Progress Laboratory. Eight people, scheduled

to make history, no matter the outcome. Updates were relayed to them from

the Operation SD team back on Earth, now primarily based out of the UN

building in New York. The AS1 transport spacecraft had left its mother ship

two hours ago and supposedly carried three travelers from another solar

system. The approaching alien ship was now visible from the Transfer Zone

window of the ISS, reflecting the intense sunlight, making it bright against

the black backdrop of space. Even at this distance Gideon could tell it was

large, almost twice the size of the International Space Station. This had

caused concern, but the AS1 explained they had no smaller alternative. With

a fair amount of convincing from Declan, the decision had been made that

the large size of the ship did not impose any more or less of a threat to the

ISS than if the ship had been small in size. As it approached, the organic shape became more obvious. Its smoothly

pointed nose flowed into the shape of a cone, eventually becoming parallel,

making the back half a cylinder like the shape of a bullet. This led Gideon

to believe that it had the ability to enter atmospheres, as there was

obviously no advantage to aerodynamics in space. “Question 128, how does the ship slow speed with no sign of exterior

propulsion?” Carter punched the words into his tablet. He had been

mumbling his extensive list of questions since the start of the day. “This is a monumental moment, people,” Declan said, looking like a kid

on Christmas morning. “This ship is the most incredible sight ever seen by

humans. Greater than the moment Lewis and Clark set eyes on the Pacific

Ocean, greater than when humans discovered the ability to create fire!

We

are truly observing the unknown and …” Declan shook his head as if trying

to wake himself from a dream. “And soon, this moment will be succeeded by an even grander one:

meeting the pilots of this vessel, traveling to us from another solar system. This is only the beginning.”

Rajit shifted his grip on the anchoring blue handle. The team had been

very quiet for the last few hours, only mentioning important details over

breakfast and avoiding useless chatter. “Crach, arm the AS1 Section door lock. Declan and Linda, please

proceed to your positions.” Michelle’s voice was uncharacteristically

serious. Declan and Linda would be the first ones to greet the AS1.

The

introduction would be completed in the Transfer Zone. This meant there

would be no quarantine wall or anything separating the two from the AS1.

Linda had been the one advocating for this, explaining it was a gesture of

trust and friendship to greet the AS1 as we would greet fellow humans

boarding the ISS. Declan had been willing to play along. The plan was to dock the AS1 vessel and seal Declan and Linda into the

Transfer Zone area A. The AS1 would then move from their ship to Transfer

Zone area B and the airlock would be closed behind them. Slowly allowing

the airlock to equalize with the atmosphere within the ISS ship. This was

considered the most dangerous step. Although discussions with the AS1

prior to their departure for the ISS had concluded it was safe for the AS1 to

be in the ISS atmosphere, it was a risk. The AS1 had been confident in the

data. Once Transfer Zone area B matched the environment of the ISS, the

two Transfer Zones, area A and area B would be equalized and the airlock

door separating the two would be opened, putting the AS1, Linda, and

Declan in the same occupied space. At this point the meeting would be kept

brief. They would exchange greetings and Declan would provide a detailed

plan of the following day’s meeting and agenda. The door would then be

closed. With a nod, Declan and Linda gracefully maneuvered forward into the

small chamber and spun 180 to face the rest of the team. “Remember, if anything is uncomfortable or feels off, just say ‘You got

here very quickly,’ and the airlock door will be shut, separating you from

the AS1,” Michelle reminded, the muscles in her jaw twitching. “It will not be necessary,” Linda replied with confidence that made

Gideon feel she knew exactly how the exchange would go. “You need to be aware, Linda; don’t let your excitement jade your ability

to detect a threat,” Carter shot back. “All will be well, we are prepared,” Linda replied with a smile,

unaffected by Carter’s tone. “Alright, good luck; we will be watching,” Michelle said. With a salute, Crach triggered the door to close the pair off. Michelle left the group and headed to the SSH. She would be watching

through the video feed there per safety protocol. Gideon and the remaining

team peered through the Transfer Zone window, allowing them to clearly

see Declan and Linda. They appeared incredibly calm and stood fast, feet

anchored in straps, facing the airlock that would separate them from the

AS1.

Gideon shifted his gaze to the outward window. The AS1 craft was

only about fifteen or twenty meters away and moving in at the requested

speed of two centimeters per second. “Thirteen minutes out from docking,” Crach announced to the team. Crach had proven to be an expert on the ISS, and this was his third term

on the space station, totaling a staggering 765 days in space. Gideon sensed

he was uncomfortable with the monumental shift in plans for the ISS but

seemed to comply with little resistance. Now just a meter or two away, the cylindrical ship loomed into view. Gideon’s heart pounded. His gaze rapidly switched from the PMA window

to the exterior window. He could now only see a portion of the ship as it

prepared to dock. “That material … it’s fascinating.” Carter’s brow scrunched tightly as he

gazed at the ship. “And there are no windows, antennae … Not even any

writing or markings.”

Gideon’s attention abruptly refocused on the port window by a gentle

shake, indicating the craft had made contact. “Locking sequence complete,” Crach called out and then shifted his focus

to Brandon. The first step now was to establish communication between them and the

AS1.

“Sending message now.” Brandon’s voice cracked slightly while his

fingers drummed patterns on the face of his tablet. Silence. The lack of sound heightened everyone’s feelings, anxiety, anticipation,

and fear. After a few short seconds, Brandon looked up from his tablet. “Message received; AS1 confirms a successful dock.”

The crew let out a quick breath of relief. “AS1 is requesting permission to enter Transfer Zone area B.” Brandon

pressed his finger to his earpiece, listening to Michelle’s approval. “Roger that, AS1 entering Transfer Zone area B.”

Crach’s brow furrowed as he furiously flipped toggle switches and

clicked away at the laptop mounted on the wall. “AS1 has entered area B and is ready for environment equalization,”

Brandon called out. The team all exchanged excited looks, everything was moving quickly

and smoothly. Crach looked at Brandon, paused for a moment and then nodded. With

the flip of a single switch, he began the equalization process. “Equalization complete. Status on AS1?” Crach said. For the first time,

Gideon could hear worry in his voice. “AS1 confirm no issues!” Brandon replied. “Equalizing areas A and B,” Crach called back. The airlock door was far too thick to allow sound through, but Gideon

could imagine the hiss that Declan and Linda must be hearing as their

section equalized. “Pressures successfully equalized,” Crach announced. “OK, Linda,

Declan. Are you ready for me to open the door?”

The two gave the OK gesture. Gideon held his breath as Crach punched in the sequence to open the

airlock door, the only thing left separating humankind and their first contact

from an extraterrestrial life form. Chapter 41

The door slid open, revealing a sight that eight humans simultaneously

witnessed along with the NASA team in Florida via live video feed. A strange sensation zipped through Gideon’s body, tingling needles

stabbed at the pores on his face and a soft, high-pitched whine filled his

brain and ears. His body halted its demand for air as it fell into a primal

state of focus. Three AS1 beings towered over Declan and Linda. Their imposing stature

dwarfed the two humans by several feet. These enigmatic beings possessed

a startling anatomy, unlike anything seen on Earth. They had six long thin limbs extending from their central body. Five of

these limbs were gracefully coiled close to their spherical form, while one

reached down, firmly anchoring the AS1 to the floor. These appendages had

a similar resemblance to an elephant’s trunk, but from the end sprouted four

elongated fingers. The limbs were almost symmetrically spaced around

their bodies, with one jutting directly downward, and four encircling the

central part of their form. The one protruding from the top differed subtly;

its trunk was shorter but its fingers were significantly longer. The alien’s skin was different from anything he had ever seen, its texture

seemingly translucent yet resonating with an array of colors. It resembled a

strange fusion of translucence while reflecting light in a kaleidoscope of

hues, resembling the shimmering patterns of oil floating on water. The AS1

remained completely motionless, their bodies showing no sign of

respiration or any discernible life sign. Gideon finally filled his lungs with air, trying to stay calm, he watched as

Declan and Linda also held still, but not motionless in contrast to the statue-

like AS1.

He heard Linda make a small indistinguishable sound over the mic as

Declan remained silent, frozen. No movement. Gideon felt a feeling of astonishment that he had never felt before. Witnessing something not unexpected, as they had all been waiting for this

moment, yet still unfathomable—like seeing a ghost in a graveyard. His mind spun, his thoughts reeled, his eyes widened to take everything in. He

barely blinked as he looked at the beings, mouth hanging open as he stared,

not wanting to miss a single thing. Gideon’s mind began to race, and he felt he was losing grasp of how

much time had passed in this motionless state, a million scenarios zipping

through his head. Was this normal?

Why weren’t the AS1 moving?

Had the

decompression killed them after all?

No, if they were dead, they would

likely be drifting about, it takes active muscles to hold that perfectly still. Are Linda and Declan OK?

Are they poisoned?

Why isn’t anything

happening?!

He felt the cold grasp of panic starting to pull at his mind and

he squeezed the copper washer hard in his palm, trying to ground his

thoughts. Just as Gideon felt he was regaining control of his primal instincts, he

witnessed the first change. Both Declan and Linda made a startled jerking

motion, feet still strapped to the floor. Near the top of the AS1s’ body were

two ridges on either side of the top limb, perhaps from bone structure or

muscles. The ridges began pulsing different lights from within the skin,

changing from magenta to a sort of yellow that hurt Gideon’s eyes in a way

difficult to explain. The mesmerizing display of the aliens’ radiant skin invoked an almost

hypnotic sense of wonder within him. The rhythmic lights bore a striking

resemblance to the dance of a jellyfish’s bioluminescent tentacles,

illuminating dark waters with pulsing lights. Initially, the display appeared somewhat erratic, but it rapidly expanded. The light journeyed gracefully down the long limbs, tracing their contours

with shimmering hues until the entire body of the AS1 pulsed in

synchronization. The vivid display of colors left Gideon entranced. He tried

to stop his awe from pushing away logical thoughts. Perhaps the AS1 use

these lights just as a cuttlefish would hypnotize its prey with a brilliant

display of fluctuating patterns dancing across its skin. He forced himself to

look away and catch his breath but couldn’t help but be filled with awe and

confusion, overwhelmed by the breathtaking display. It felt like time had stopped altogether, and Gideon actually considered

that the world was, in fact, frozen, all in honor of this monumental event. As if the atmosphere and all the elements in the world, and even time itself,

knew to show reverence to this once-in-a-lifetime meeting. Gideon directed his attention back to Linda; her face was unwavering,

taking in the sight. He could see her draw in a deep breath, keeping her eyes

locked on the AS1.

“Hello, AS1.” Her voice was breathless. “On behalf of all humanity, I

would like to welcome you aboard the International Space Station of the

human race.” She spoke slowly, like an American trying to get a non-

English speaker to understand her words. Declan and Linda held still as the center of the three AS1 made its first

physical movement, raising its left limb. Grasped in the hold of the long

jointless fingers, it held a flat, ellipse-shaped object, slightly smaller than a

standard dinner plate. The AS1 oriented the object so the flat surface faced

Linda and Declan. With no sign of initiation from the AS1, white letters

appeared on the dark surface of the object. {Greetings, humans, we are AS1, it is productive to visualize you.}

Gideon noticed that each of the AS1 held a similar device, grasped within

their long thin fingers. A smile that revealed awe and relief washed over Linda’s face. “My name is Linda.”

The three creatures changed colors in synchronization. “Are you able to understand our language audibly?”

The AS1 tablet instantly showed new words without the creature making

any movements. {Yes; however, we cannot return the audible language.}

“That is OK, this form of communication works.” Linda smiled. “My name is Declan; we are happy to meet you.” Declan gently waved

his right hand. The AS1 remained perfectly still, like statues. “This is a

common gesture of friendship and greeting.”

The center AS1 lifted one of its limbs into the air and motioned it back

and forth, mimicking Declan’s wave. The limb was so long that it made the

movement seem exaggerated. “Amazing,” said Linda, acknowledging the AS1 returning Declan’s

gesture. “This is a moment that will go down in history. The human species is

beyond excited and dedicated to learning and teaching in partnership with

you, the AS1,” Declan said. Again, the AS1 tablet updated to new words in an instant. {Understood.}

Declan’s smile faded a bit, almost as if he was disappointed in the

simplicity of the AS1 response. There was a long pause, the AS1 still completely motionless. “We would like to give you a small file of terms regarding protocol on

this craft, named ‘The International Space Station.’ May we upload that file

to the established shared server?” Declan asked. A simple {Yes.} was immediately written on the screen. Declan looked behind through the port window and signaled to Brandon. “Send it over.”

Brandon, obeying the command relayed by the overhead speaker,

directed the file to the newly established server that would allow the

humans and AS1 to work in a shared space. Declan turned back to the AS1s. “Do you have names?”

{Yes; however, it is not translatable to your language. We utilize visuals

for communication. First, I will show you the visual that represents our

species.}

A new dazzling array of color came over its body, undulating for a

moment and then suddenly freezing. All colors on the visible spectrum

could be seen. There were several awkward gaps in between lights, and

Gideon wondered if the human eye was simply unable to pick up the visual

frequency. {Now each will show our “name.”}

The far left AS1’s body colors held unmoving for several seconds, before

returning to the erratic undulating state. The center AS1 and then right-hand

side AS1 followed suit. {We understand that observing our colors is not the efficient way to

communicate our names in your language.}

“That’s quite all right,” Linda said. {For human communication, we understand it will be most efficient to

designate ourselves with human writing.}

The far-left AS1 moved forward and raised one of its limbs, mimicking

Declan’s wave. {I am Amicus-Alpha.} appeared on the screen. Amicus-Alpha moved back and the center AS1 moved forward. {I am Amicus-Beta.}

{I am Amicus-Gamma.} flashed on the screen as the far-right alien

moved up, also waving. “Nice to meet you, Amicus-Alpha, Amicus-Beta, and Amicus-Gamma,”

Linda said, looking directly at the individual AS1 as she restated their

names. “Did you choose these names as the translation of the Latin root

word for ‘friend’?” she asked. {Yes.} Amicus-Beta’s tablet stated. Linda nodded her approval. “My name is Linda.” She waved and looked back at Declan, urging him

to do the same. “Nice to meet you. My name is Declan.” He waved; there was a quiver in

his voice. The three AS1 changed colors among themselves. “Incredible,” Linda said. “Is this how you communicate between

yourselves, with visual lights?”

{Yes, the atmosphere on our home planet is very dense and restricts

sound waves from passing through.}

Both Linda and Declan smiled. “So, when you are changing colors, does that mean you are

communicating among yourselves?” Declan asked. {We are always transferring data from one to another, this allows all AS1

to stay up to date with the current knowledge base.}

With a gentle kick, Linda drifted slightly closer to the nearest AS1, the

one on the right, who remained perfectly still except for the brilliant show

of lights flickering across its body. She stopped herself by grabbing one of the ceiling handles, only a few

feet from Amicus-Alpha. “How quickly are you able to transfer data this way?” she asked. {Quantitatively, in your units of measurement, we can transfer 5.78

terabits per second. Qualitatively, this means that after 8 hours apart on the

ISS with your crew, our AS1 crew can reconvene afterward and transfer all

data learned in about one-tenth of a second. Allowing us all to be consistent

in our learned knowledge from the session.}

Carter grunted as he observed through the port window. “Your shape is amazing,” Linda said. “Very different from anything we

have on Earth. We are excited to learn more about you and where you come from. In addition, we are excited to provide you with information about us

and where we come from.”

{Knowledge exchange will be beneficial. We have brought a gift.}

Amicus-Beta extended a limb toward Linda, the long fingers slowly

uncurled revealing a small metallic-looking cube. {This is an alloy we are able to create in our home world. We believe it is

different from anything you have on Earth.}

The AS1 then extended another limb and revealed another object, this

one looking organic and resembling a large acorn, but was a bright orange

color. {This is a living organism from our home world. It is dormant and will

not make changes; you do not need to fear it. You may study it if you like. It

is similar to what you call trees.}

The AS1 then retracted its long arms, leaving the pair of objects floating

next to each other. Gideon noticed that the items the AS1 left floating were

perfectly motionless, suspended in the air. Something no human would ever

be able to do. No matter how hard someone tried, the objects would always

slowly float in some direction or rotation. He was left to wonder what other

capabilities their new friends possessed that humans did not. Within only

minutes of meeting, they had already shown attributes and abilities that

were foreign and, frankly, impossible for humans. Gideon wondered what

they would learn next. “Thank you,” Declan replied as he reached out and retrieved the items

with his bare hands. Something he had been told not to do. But in the

moment, Gideon actually felt it was the right call. “Tomorrow at 08:00 we will meet you again. We will bring you onto the

International Space Station and show you the labs. Please review the

protocol data and agenda. Please tell us if you have any questions.”

{Thank you.}

The room was silent. Almost like an awkward pause where no one

wanted to leave but had nothing else to say. Gideon wanted to say

something. To ask a question, anything. And he knew everyone else felt the

same way. But they had to stick to the plan. The plan was to make visual

contact, exchange names, send the protocols for further communication,

then stop. “Thank you, AS1,” Linda said. “We will now close the Transfer Zone

door. We are excited to see you tomorrow.”

{We will see you tomorrow.}

Linda smiled with a sense of satisfaction as the airlock door slid closed

separating the humans from the AS1.

Chapter 42

“Incredible … isn’t it?!” Declan was beaming, like a small child who had

found proof that Santa Claus was real. After the exchange with the AS1, Declan and Linda remained in the

Transfer Zone area A to go through scanning. This would test for radiation,

oxygen poisoning, and most importantly, alien microbes. Rajit had

explained how our world is made of trillions of microbes, they are found

everywhere. There was concern the AS1 would have microbes as well, and

there was no telling how they would interact. Astonishingly, all tests came

back negative. Now, an hour after their first contact, the Contact Team met

up in BEAM2.

Declan was clearly the most excited, Linda was maintaining

a level head and seemed to be stuck deep in thought. Staying relatively

quiet after all that had happened. “They do not appear to mean us harm and … I don’t know, I can’t even

think straight,” Declan finished with a shudder. “Clearly,” Carter said with sarcasm, his long fingers tapping away at his

tablet screen. “Is there something you’d like to say?” Rajit seemed the most conflicted. Gideon knew that as a scientist, the AS1 must have been incredibly

interesting to him, but his moral beliefs seemed to still be causing him

concern. “I’m just waiting for you guys to notice, is all. Maybe it will come once

you are done with your little show and tell.” Carter always spoke with a

softness that most found obnoxious. “You don’t trust them?” Gideon asked. “Let’s base things on facts instead of feelings for just a second, why don’t

we … that is what scientists are supposed to do, is it not?”

The entire team looked at him, annoyed yet curious. “First, they claim to have come from a planet that has an atmosphere that

does not conduct sound, thus they use light for all communication. So, tell

me, Rajit, why would an organism that lives on a mute planet develop

ears?”

“Fish don’t have ears, nor do they use audible communication; however,

they are still able to decipher and detect sound.” Rajit looked almost happy

that Carter had directed his skepticism toward him. “Correct me if I am wrong: fish do not have auditory canals and therefore

are really just detecting the disturbances from sound waves. If you took a

fish out of that water, what range of tones can it hear?

Surely it would not

be able to distinguish the audio levels that build up our language.”

“So, you are comparing the AS1 to a fish?” Rajit asked. “I believe you started with the comparison, and your evasion of

answering the question supplies my answer. I am simply trying to shed

some light on something that struck me as odd.”

The team sat in silence for a few moments. Though antagonized by

Carter raining on their “first contact” parade, each one now had a small

uneasy feeling in their belly, except perhaps Declan, who was still smiling. “Science this, science that,” he said. “I understand the necessity of

evaluating these beings with scientific scrutiny, but can we just be happy

and excited about the fact that we, a team of eight chosen individuals, just

made history by successfully making first contact with an alien species?”

He looked around before continuing, now in a calm and serious tone. “We will go down in the history books, ladies and gentlemen.” He again

scanned the room, but his proud face sank as Carter’s gaze locked on him. Gideon had never seen Carter’s eyes so sharp. After holding Declan’s gaze

for several long seconds, Carter spun 180 degrees and glided his way

toward the exit. “I’m going to the lab to analyze the samples they gave us. If anyone here

would like to participate in some real scientific work, feel free to join me,”

Carter said. He stopped at the door, and without turning his head, said his final piece. “And if we are talking non-scientifically, my gut says the AS1 were

particularly well prepared and comfortable with today’s interaction for this

being their first contact,” Carter said and then exited the lab. Linda looked around, reading the team. “He has a point, doesn’t he?” She

looked toward Rajit. Declan moved away, occupied by his iPad. “Let’s focus on the information provided, and not allow our emotions to

interfere with our ability to do our jobs.” Rajit also pulled himself from the room, carrying an airtight container with the orange acorn, heading toward

the lab to analyze it. Chapter 43

Only sixteen hours after the first contact, Gideon, Linda, Carter, Rajit, and

Declan positioned themselves in front of the Transfer Zone airlock as it slid

open for the second time. The three alien beings stood motionless on the

other side, though this time the colors within their skin were already

flourishing. Gideon’s heart raced as this was his first opportunity to see

them in person, not separated by a window. As before, a single limb remained anchored firmly to the floor, while the

rest of the AS1s’ appendages remained neatly rolled up against their sides,

their extremities strikingly slender in diameter. Gideon couldn’t help but

speculate on their inherent strength, considering the apparent fragility of

their proportions. This led him to the intriguing notion that these

extraterrestrial beings likely spent most of their existence in the

weightlessness of zero-gravity environments. Observing the fingers at the tips of their limbs, Gideon noted how they

gracefully coiled when not in use, evoking memories of unfurling

fiddlehead ferns in spring. Strikingly, the fingers displayed no discernible

joints, adding another layer of mystery to the alien anatomy. The body of

the AS1, etched in his memory as spherical, revealed itself to be more akin

to the top of a muffin, featuring a nearly flat underside and a gently domed

top. This peculiar body structure measured approximately four feet in

height and spanned about four to five feet in width. Rajit began to extend his arm toward the AS1, his eyes wide but resolute. He held out a small potted white flower, a cosmos bipinnatus. The ISS had

successfully been working on growing these on the ISS for the past

eighteen months. “This is a plant from Earth, we would like to gift it to you.”

The middle AS1 took the small flower with an outstretched trunk, long

fingers slithering around the small pot. A loud click echoed in the room, and all three AS1s shifted to a vibrant

blue while quickly recoiling back several feet, the potted plant left rotating

helplessly in the air. The sudden movements caused Rajit to kick out, striking the wall and

spinning off axis. “Sorry!

It was just a picture; I was taking a picture.” Declan held up his

iPad. “I didn’t know it would be so loud.” He looked like a scolded child as

Carter shot him a glare for breaking protocol, again. Rajit righted himself, grabbed the plant, and offered it again. “My

apologies. Do not be afraid. This plant is similar to the plant seed that you

gave us. It will not move nor emit sounds. It is safe. Our colleague, Declan,

took a picture with his tablet, which is what caused the noise that startled

you.”

The AS1 slowly reached out and took the plant again as the three aliens

returned to equilibrium in their colors. The middle AS1 held up the oval

screen again. {Why do you take picture?}

“I wanted to document the moment of our species exchanging gifts.”

Declan’s voice was quiet. {Humans document history with pictures?}

“Well, sometimes, it gives us a visual reference to pair with words.”

{Words cannot describe a visual event?}

“No, we—”

Linda cut him off. “Words can be used to describe an event, but unfortunately our language

is not intricate enough to give the same detail that a picture gives us. Is

yours?”

{Yes, we are able to capture all events and can exchange them in full

detail with one another using our language. It would seem your picture

would be redundant in our language.}

“Incredible,” Gideon muttered under his breath. Rajit asked the next question. “You are clearly visual communicators. Humans have what we call eyes.”

He pointed to his eyes. “In fact, most creatures with active brain function, have eyes. The eye

works by capturing light rays entering through the cornea and lens and

focusing them onto photoreceptor cells, which convert the light into

electrical signals that are sent to the brain via the optic nerve. This allows

our brain, which does our computing or thinking, to interpret the signals as visual information. This process enables the brain to perceive shapes,

colors, and patterns, creating our sense of vision. Are you able to describe

what function AS1 utilize in order to obtain a visual representation of the

world around you, specifically the colors on your skin that you use for

communication?”

{We have light receptors all over our bodies, allowing us to see in every

direction, at all times. Similar to your anatomical systems, this information

is sent to our core where the information is processed. We are not required

to focus on one visual reference as you are with your eyes.}

“I see, so you do have an understanding of how our eyes work?” Rajit

asked, looking confused. {Your teacher Bill Nye the Science Guy taught us in your LKD package.}

Gideon let out a little snort of laughter, trying to imagine these exotic

beings sitting together watching Bill Nye. “I look forward to discussing ophthalmology with you later,” Rajit

replied excitedly. Clearly the scientist within him was winning the fight

with his challenge in accepting the aliens from a moral standpoint. {We do not know this word. Ophthalmology.}

“Ophthalmology is the study of the eyes, their various components, and

how they function in the context of vision.”

{Understood. AS1 would like access to all human words.}

“We can provide that right away,” Linda quickly replied. Carter tirelessly tapped away at his iPad, never looking up or saying a

word. “Have you reviewed all terms provided to you in our last exchange?”

Declan asked. {Yes, we will comply.}

“Excellent, well then, allow us to show you the International Space

Station, or ISS, as we call it.”

Declan motioned to Crach for him to open the Transfer Zone door, so

they could make their way into the Progress Laboratory. With a small hiss, the door slid open and the team, now five humans and

three AS1, drifted through the opening. This was the first time Gideon had seen the aliens move from their

singular planted foot. The spectacle was nothing short of astonishing. The

AS1 moved with remarkable elegance, their slow and effortless motions moved their large bodies as they glided through the doorway. Every

extremity seemed to be moving at the same rate, never pausing to think or

redirect. All six limbs were now in motion, and it became evident that at

least four of the six were consistently in contact with the surrounding walls,

guiding the body along seamlessly, devoid of any erratic or jarring

movements. The relatively small space of the Progress Lab was dwarfed even more by

the large size of the AS1, but they coiled up their long limbs, taking half the

space they had before. Declan explained the layout of the Progress Lab and then had each AS1

enter BEAM2 for sizing and photographs. The photographs would be sent

back to Earth and used to show the public. Gideon wondered how people

would react—at least the AS1 didn’t have any big teeth, he mused. In fact,

their appearance, though very strange, was less intimidating than he had

expected. Once photographing and documentation were complete, the team moved

into the next phase, splitting into smaller groups. The AS1 trio did not seem

to have a leader or anyone in charge. When asked how they wanted to split

up, they explained that there was no benefit to one over the other. Two AS1 stayed in Progress with Carter and Rajit while the other

followed Declan, Linda, and Gideon back to BEAM2 to begin the first

logged conversation. Chapter 44

Jamal Uddin had been within the walls of the UN headquarters in NYC for

the last thirty-two hours, only broken up by a two-hour nap while slouched

in his office chair. This left him with a stronger sensation of pain in his neck

than refreshment. With a long sigh he rose from his black leather office

chair and made his way down the hallway. Although there were still many

people rushing up and down the hallway, things had quieted down. The

public, for the most part, was regaining normalcy. No wars had started,

although many countries were on lockdown and border tensions were high. Jamal turned and opened the door to the new communications room,

which was the second largest meeting room in the building, his mind

struggling to maintain clarity from his lack of sleep. The room consisted of

six rows of workstations, each containing ten computers per row. All

stations faced the back wall, which exhibited a multitude of large monitors

displaying an array of numbers and data to live feeds of launch sites and

cities. The room reminded Jamal of NASA’s mission control. Currently only twelve of the sixty-plus seats were filled. It had been a

busy week. The Operation SD headquarters in San Antonio had been moved

to this location. SETI had also been invited to set up shop one floor down,

and several world leaders were establishing temporary offices throughout

the building. Jamal focused his attention on the current mission control lead, Johnny

Sultan. “What is the status?

Have the AS1 successfully boarded the ISS?”

At this point Jamal and the team had only seen the surveillance pictures

of the AS1 that Crach sent just moments after the initial contact with Linda

and Declan the day before. “Michelle just confirmed the AS1 have successfully engaged in scientific

activities on the ISS. The initial report is positive and shows no signs of

contamination or conflict. Detailed pictures and specifications are due any

minute.”

The UN had chosen not to make the AS1 boarding a publicly displayed

event, using technology as an excuse, but really it was for the safety of the

people. If the boarding had gone awry, the UN would need time to prepare before telling the public. They had, however, promised confirmation and a

picture of the AS1 to the public. In a few minutes, the files arrived. Jamal studied the high-resolution pictures with shock and a feeling he

could not describe. How could these beings be so different, so animal-like?

They did not wear clothes or have eyes. They didn’t even appear to have a

front or back, top or bottom. He wondered if they thought like humans do. How capable were they?

The specs came in shortly after, showing the largest AS1 at eight feet

three inches, noted when the AS1 was standing with its top limb coiled up,

like a snake ready to strike. The shortest AS1 was only one inch less. Using

a method relying on Newton’s second law of motion, the AS1 had a mass

calculated at approximately 290 to 300 pounds. Jamal found this surprising. Yes, the AS1 were tall, but their form was mostly long thin limbs and a core

body that wasn’t much larger than the average human torso. Must be dense

muscle mass, he thought. Jamal rubbed the back of his neck. A part of him had dreaded the arrival

of these pictures as it meant he would need to share them with the world. His team estimated that nearly 30 percent of the world’s population still did

not believe the AS1 were real. It would be hard to deny the authenticity of

these pictures. This pretty much all but proved their existence and that

could be the beginning of collapse for many cultures. Jamal got on the phone with his lead media analyst. “I’m passing the images and specs to you, please provide these to our

approved media outlets and request them to be shown at 12:00 International

Time with an announcement in each respective country’s evening news.”

He nodded toward Johnny to send the files. “Please encourage the media to paint this in a positive light … which it

is. I am fearful that these images may be alarming and could push several

countries over the edge.”

Jamal hung up the phone, wondering what the impact of these pictures

and specs could truly be. Knowing he would need to meet with his panel, he

then scheduled a meeting in two hours with the UN. These pictures were

going to add a few extra pounds to a world that was already walking on thin

ice. AS1 Log 1

09:15 – Note, AS1 response typed from self-provided tablet. Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

Personnel: DW, LS, GH

DECLAN: OK, well here we go. AS1 Log 1, time 18:06.

We apologize for the lack of

technology provided; our IT Tech is currently working on a device to allow you to also speak

English audibly. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: This method is acceptable, we find this visual form of your language

more efficient than doing what you call speaking. The written form is more similar to our

language. DECLAN: You write your responses shockingly fast. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Does it take you longer to display words in this version of your

language?

DECLAN: We have to type it out at least, it doesn’t just appear. I’ll show you. Like this. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: You write slowly, is that a normal pace?

LINDA: Some can write faster than others, the average writing speed of humans is 38 to 40

words per minute. Can you provide an overview of how your language works?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Our language is vastly different from yours. We do not have what you

call letters. Our ancestors, before developing an advanced language, only had visual

representations for simple things such as DANGER, NEED, FOOD, and LOCATIONS. As

expressed earlier, our planet does not conduct sounds, thus all language is visual, we use our

bioluminescent skin to communicate. DECLAN: We find this amazing. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: As we evolved, the complexities of our language grew and our bodies

evolved as well, allowing us to represent extensive amounts of information and data through

momentary different sequences. It has developed to a point that all AS1 share equal knowledge,

as information can be transferred from one to another nearly instantaneously and effortlessly

through this visual communication. LINDA: So, you can transfer images, data, and conversations all through light sequences on

your skin?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Mostly correct, however, AS1 do not have conversations as humans

do. This term, conversation, is something we would like to learn more about. Your language has

a start and finish, ours does not. Communication is simply data transfer that leads to decisions. AS1 rarely will arrive at different conclusions from the data, as we all possess similar

intelligence and stored information. LINDA: What if you are not within visual range of each other?

Are you still able to

communicate?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes, this was a limitation to our species for a long time. Although not

as efficient, we have devices that allow us to transfer data to one another when beyond visual

range. DECLAN: Do you use this method often?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No, our architecture is designed in an open format, rarely are we

unable to visualize one another. GIDEON: Hello, my name is Gideon. I have noticed so far in our interactions. You have

avoided the use of words such as happy and excitement. Do AS1 have feelings?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: This is another term we would like to better understand. We do not

know if we have feelings. Would you consider danger a feeling?

LINDA: Fear is the feeling of danger. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: And what is the result of fear?

LINDA: We then make a decision to either fight and defend or remove ourselves from the

situation. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: AS1 also would make a similar decision from the object, danger, but

without the middle step of feeling fear. GIDEON: So, it sounds like less emotion is involved in decision-making. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We would also like to learn more about the word “emotion.” Is

emotion needed to make decisions?

LINDA: No, but we humans often make decisions based on our emotions. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Good decisions or bad decisions?

GIDEON: Sometimes both. But in my experience, some of the worst decisions are made based

on emotions. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Then why use emotion to make decisions?

GIDEON: We don’t mean to but sometimes our emotions take over our rational minds. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: It sounds like emotions are not good. Do humans want to get rid of

their emotions since it would make better decisions?

GIDEON: No, because emotions have many benefits. We use our rational mind to employ

discipline to not let our emotions take over in certain circumstances. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We would also like to learn what this “discipline” is. GIDEON: It is complex, but I would describe discipline as the ability to make the right

decision even when you do not want to. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Why would humans not want to make a good decision?

GIDEON: That is a good question. Sometimes a decision is in our best interest, like not eating

food that is bad for our health but we still want to do it because it tastes good. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans require decision-making in order to choose what to eat,

which restores energy?

AS1 replenish energy when energy is low, no decision beyond that is

required. GIDEON: Our bodies evolved over time to be attracted to ingredients like fat and sugar,

because eating those things helped us survive. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: So, your bodies evolved to eat good things but now they are bad?

GIDEON: Yes, kind of. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: And your bodies also evolved to use different parts of your body to

communicate in different ways?

Your eyes allow you to perform visual communication. But

you also have a nose and ears that allow you to communicate in different ways?

GIDEON: You are correct. It may be more complex than that but that is essentially right. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans are very complex. We would like to explore this to learn

more. Chapter 45

After eight hours of working in the AS1 Zone of the ISS, the AS1 crew

returned to their own attached ship. Mentally exhausted, the human team

faced each other in Node 4, ready to discuss and log their findings. To

Gideon’s surprise, Rajit gave an awkward smile in the direction of the team,

hesitated, and then abruptly left the node. The team exchanged looks by his

behavior. Declan called after him. “Rajit!

We need to do a debrief, where are you going?”

Only silence was returned from the now-empty doorway through which

Rajit had exited. Declan let out an annoyed sigh and then began. “Well, to start, we need a better way to tell them apart.”

“They technically have given themselves names, but—?

They all look

exactly the same to me,” replied Linda, still struggling with zero gravity,

she had already retreated to her small quarters strapped to the wall. Only

her head protruded from the top of her sleeping bag. “Can we request they wear an identifier, something simple like a name

tag?” Gideon asked. “We will ask them.” Declan wrote his notes. “I’ll have some ideas for

tomorrow’s encounter. Brandon, how’d it go with working on an audio plug

into their software?”

“Right, it’s going well. We’ve received clearance from Apple and I have

translated the database into something the AS1 should be able to process. If

the upload is a success, tomorrow the AS1 will be sounding like Siri.”

“So tomorrow we’re talking to a bunch of aliens sounding like an

iPhone?

This just keeps getting better.” Carter gave a rare chuckle. “I’ll be honest,” Brandon continued. “When I offered Amicus-Alpha, or

at least who I thought was Amicus-Alpha, the data package, he … it seemed

pretty confused by the request, asking if we would be out of visual range in

the future. I explained it’s faster for us to hear it versus reading it.”

“The AS1 language is so vastly different from ours,” Linda broke in, she

paused before continuing. “Quite frankly I believe they find our forms of

language highly inefficient. We’ll ask more about it tomorrow. Right, Declan?” Linda looked toward Declan who was primary on choosing

content for the AS1 logs, he gave a casual nod. “What else?” Declan quickly typed his notes. “I’ll go next,” Carter said. “We began by showing …”

A loud metallic crash interrupted Carter, the team looked back toward the

origin of the sound only to see Rajit reentering, arms wrapped around a

mass of metal trays and containers. He drifted into Node 4 headfirst, legs

kicking awkwardly to the left in an attempt to redirect his momentum, a

move that would have worked in the water training they had completed, but

had no effect in the zero gravity environment of the ISS. Clearly his priority

was the tightly grasped science equipment in his arms, and he conceded to

lowering his head and letting his shoulder take the hit against the wall. Carter, instead of helping the poor scientist, simply pushed out of the way

and watched as Rajit frantically kicked his feet, trying to make contact with

something to right himself and redirect his trajectory. Gideon noticed a rare

smile cross Carter’s face. “What on Earth are you doing?” Linda shouted as she quickly unzipped

her sleeping bag and pushed off in Rajit’s direction to offer him some aid. “Gosh, sorry for the disruption; don’t mind me. Carry on,” Rajit replied,

now bright red in the face, feet still jabbing at the empty air. Linda gently

reached out and grabbed Rajit by the collar behind his head. Gideon let out

a small snort, as he tried to suppress the laughter of watching Linda guide

Rajit along by the scruff of the neck, the way a mother cat carries her

kittens. “Oh, no need, Linda, I’m doing fine,” Rajit said in a quiet voice;

however, his body fell limp as he allowed Linda to take over. “Where are we headed?

And again, what on Earth are you up to?” Linda

replied calmly. “Amicus-Gamma told me I could plant the spermatophyte in our soil and

that it would likely grow.”

“The what?” Declan asked, also looking amused by Rajit’s recent display. “The spermatophyte, er, the acorn-looking organic the AS1 presented us

during our first contact. I knew it was against protocol for the

spermatophyte to leave the Progress Laboratory so I figured I’d just grab a

few things from Columbus so I could set up a plant study in the lab.”

“You didn’t screw with any of my existing space botany, did you?”

Michelle shot in his direction. “No, no, just some of the spare kits,” Rajit replied, who had now

completely given in to Linda’s guidance as they stopped at the AS1 Section

Lock. Carter loudly cleared his throat. “As I was saying prior to the interruption, I began my session with

Amicus-Beta by showing it a few samples of living tissues and plant matter. Although it observed, it didn’t seem overly interested. Once this was

complete, Amicus-Beta asked if we had any additional samples of dirt or

soil. All we have currently is in Columbus for the existing plant

experiments, and who knows if there is anything left at this point now that

Rajit has raided the lab.”

Carter shot a look in Rajit’s direction, his smile replaced by the frown the

team knew all too well. “Anyways, that soil was already included in the plant that we provided

them. If we are interested in obliging their requests, we will need to get

some more soil samples on the next supply run.”

“OK. Anything specific?” Declan asked. “From my observations, you can expect everything the AS1 do to be very

specific. I’ll send the list; it is very detailed.” Carter nodded. “What’s the special interest there, do you think?” Declan asked. “One day with them does not provide me with the information I need to

answer that question. The AS1 explained they can use the dirt sample to

observe the Earth’s history and blueprint. Of course, geology is a useful tool

in understanding the progression of time, but I think there may be more to it

—maybe agricultural interest. I’ll push more tomorrow.”

He paused, and then began to speak again, his voice shifting from his

monotone report to something a little more personable. “I’ll be honest, I’m still feeling a little unnerved communicating and

having a discussion with an eight-foot alien standing over me. Can’t say

talking to Siri will make that any better.”

“Come up with a better option then,” Brandon shot. “I was asked to provide human history,” Linda interrupted, still casually

holding on to the back of Rajit’s shirt as if making sure her kitten wouldn’t

wander away again. “What type?” Declan inquired. “They wanted to learn the linear progression of human development and

how it affected the world around us. They may not grasp that we don’t have

a single source for that progression.”

“What do you mean?” Declan asked. “I mean, world history is not a consistent linear progression. Different

cultures and geographical areas grew at different rates, and some even have

contradicting versions of how the history itself unfolded. It sounds to me

like the AS1 species didn’t have different cultures or progression rates like

humans did so this may be a foreign concept to them.”

“So, what did we ask in return, guys?” Declan’s eyes traced the room, but

nobody spoke up until Carter broke the silence. “Interesting point.” It appeared as though he was trying to smirk, but

instead Gideon read concern. AS1 Log 2

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

Personnel: DW, LS, GH

DECLAN: Log 2, 18:00.

DECLAN: Are you comfortable with the setup of these meetings?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. Why would we not be comfortable?

DECLAN: Well, we just want to make sure. You’re a guest here, and we like to be good hosts. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: OK. DECLAN: If you ever think of anything that would make these meetings more comfortable,

you just let us know. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We find that the current meeting format is sufficient. DECLAN: So how do you feel about meeting us humans so far?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Meeting humans has proven beneficial. We look forward to learning

and sharing more information. DECLAN: Are we more or less technologically advanced than you thought we’d be?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans are as technologically advanced as we thought they would

be. DECLAN: OK, what drove you to your preconceived concept of our development?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We have researched and studied humans for a very long time. DECLAN: Well, that is a new piece of information. How long have you been studying

humans?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: 381,712.32 human years. DECLAN: This is a bit alarming. I suppose that we had assumed when you contacted us that

was your first time becoming aware of us. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: That was an incorrect assumption. DECLAN: OK, wow, three hundred and eighty thousand years. So that would imply you have

seen us evolve drastically?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Correct. DECLAN: Did this change your decisions or thoughts on coming to contact us?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. DECLAN: Meaning you wouldn’t have come to contact us when we were less evolved?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We were significantly less interested in contacting you when you

were less evolved. DECLAN: Is this because you didn’t think you could learn much from us?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: AS1 observed Earth passively until 1888, which was the first time we

detected a synthetic radio signal. This alerted us that there was a species, your type, that was

evolving at a more rapid rate than others. AS1 then made the decision to put a greater distance

between ourselves and Earth as we did not want to interfere with your evolution. DECLAN: How?

Where?

Excuse me. Linda, Gideon. Would you mind leaving us for the rest

of this log?

—–––––––log break—––––––––

DECLAN: Apologies, I’m just trying to wrap my head around this. So, you were close enough

to Earth to visually observe us until the late 1800s?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Correct, we originally came and observed Earth from an orbit at a

similar distance away as your moon. Why must Gideon and Linda leave?

DECLAN: This is all on a need-to-know basis for them and I need to make sure I am

understanding. The AS1 have been watching us since we were living in caves?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. Chapter 46

~ 5 days after contact ~

With her iPhone pointing up, the young woman tracked her outstretched

arms across the dark sky until the white label “International Space Station”

was positioned in the center of the small phone screen. She envisioned the

team of scientists, currently floating aboard the station, far above Earth in

the presence of aliens. Maybe they were looking down at her. She liked to

think so, though she knew better. Her brain worked hard to recreate the images she had seen on the news

showing the AS1 and their bizarre shape. Although she had studied the

images for hours, she was still unable to recreate the creatures in her mind. Blood slowly drained from her raised fingers, leaving them more pale

than before as she mechanically tracked the station moving across the night

sky, transfixed by the concept that she not only knew aliens existed, but also

where they were located at this exact moment in time. The idea of their existence, though not too difficult for her to accept, had

been toxic to many others. Devoted religious followers were perplexed,

spending tireless hours trying to make this new piece fit into their

scriptures. Some believed the AS1 were in fact God taking the shape of an

alien, testing humanity’s ability to adapt and evolve. Others believed the

AS1 were the devil himself, sent to deceive humanity. Even more surprising was the number of people who still, given the

amount of proof available to the public, could not accept that these beings

were intelligent extraterrestrial life. Her humble neighborhood on the outskirts of Kuala Lumpur had changed

drastically. Once a busy little street filled with food markets and vendors, it

was now nearly completely vacant. Many people had left their work,

including those in public transportation and police, causing the once very

safe area to show signs of looting and danger. Many people stayed shut at

home for days on end, watching the news nonstop, showing twenty-four-

hour coverage of the aliens, praying and spending time with family

whenever they could. As time ticked on, the unrelenting pull of resuming normal life was

constant. Hoarded supplies began to diminish and the need to begin markets

again climbed. The young woman wondered how the rest of the world was handling the

news. On paper, it was a strain, but not catastrophic. Not many people were

losing their lives, but many were out of work and struggling. She wondered

what would happen next. In both the AS1s’ future and humanity’s future. Or

were the two timelines now merged into one?

Arm aching and the ISS falling below the horizon, she relieved her phone

of its duties and simply stared at the stars, wondering if there were more

alien species out there. AS1 Log 5

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

Personnel: LS, GH

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We have noticed that humans have two different types of

communication, one is similar to how our ancestors communicated. LINDA: Please explain. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans have written language that has an affiliated audio

representation. This language is utilized for more complex things, such as data, information,

descriptions, and storytelling. The second language to humans, which is more universal than

your written languages, is based almost strictly on visual references. An example of this is the

smile, indicating what you call happiness. The number of things that can be portrayed from

human to human without the written and audio language is extensive and reminds us of how

our ancestors used to communicate. LINDA: This is an interesting observation. Facial expressions are like our simple version of

your lights?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Correct; however, your species found it beneficial to evolve your

audio language more than your visual language, which you call facial expressions. LINDA: I see. And for your species, it was the opposite. It was more beneficial for you to

evolve your visual language, and now your visual communication system is just as advanced, if

not even more advanced, than our audio language system. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. LINDA: The difference is that you are able to completely learn and use our complex audio

language system, but we humans lack the physical anatomy to be able to utilize your light

system. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. That is correct. But the AS1 also lack the physical anatomy to be

able to utilize your visual system. We cannot smile, for example. LINDA: You wanted to learn more about emotions and feelings. These are things we can

convey using our faces. You mention a smile, which shows that we are happy. We can frown,

showing sadness. Or even if we are feeling anger, which is an emotion, that will also be

communicated on our faces. Our eyes, which are bigger and more expressive, send a lot of

messages. Not just our eyes, but the skin around our eyes. And of course, our mouths. Our eyes

and mouths send the most messages. We humans say that eyes are the windows to the soul. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Soul. This is a word we are very curious about. This is your life

force?

LINDA: This is tricky to explain. Soul is what makes every human a human. It’s not a tangible

thing. It’s more of an idea. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: The idea that you are human?

LINDA: Yes, the idea that every human has a unique defining factor, deep inside them, that

makes them human. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: It is deep inside the human body?

LINDA: Not really. That’s just how we think about it. It isn’t something that can be measured

scientifically. It’s more of a concept of humanity. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: You believe in something that cannot be measured scientifically?

LINDA: I guess some of us do. Chapter 47

Carter, still uneasy with the concept of talking to an alien speaking with

Siri’s voice, focused the day’s session on understanding, or at least gaining

some knowledge of the concepts, regarding how the AS1 spacecraft was

able to travel through space at such unprecedented rates of speed. He and

Rajit had been working mostly with the AS1 given the name Amicus-Alpha. Working with this creature had been a humbling experience as the AS1

intelligence was astounding. They had what appeared to be a perfect

retention rate resulting in them never needing to write anything down or

reference past information. Carter anchored his body by hooking his feet into the straps on the floor. The large AS1 attached to the floor next to him, lower limbs bent so that its

body was almost touching the ground, brought it closer to Carter’s level. Its

lack of breathing caused the AS1 to sit perfectly still and silent. Rajit had

learned earlier that the AS1 absorbs oxygen through their skin, eliminating

the need for lungs or breathing, for that matter. Carter had been surprised

that the AS1, like life on Earth, required oxygen. Sure, oxygen is the third

most common element found in the known universe and all known

conscious life requires it, but he had expected these creatures to defy all

preconceived notions of what is required to sustain life. Focusing his attention on the task at hand, Carter glanced over at the

motionless being to his side. Amicus-Alpha spent much of its time in this

lifeless mode. Carter would start feeling like he was working with a statue

rather than a living organism. The only movements ever seen in the creature

were deliberate motions to either move from one place to another or create

three-dimensional representations. Over the past week the AS1 had brought several incredible visual aid

devices. The AS1s’ ability to “draw” was mesmerizing and similar to

watching a 3D printer create a part. The AS1 would quickly make

movements over the screen, which would portray a three-dimensional

hologram. “If you have no objections, I would like to focus today’s exchange on the

propulsion of your spacecraft.”

{No objection.} Amicus-Alpha replied in its new robotic voice. When it spoke, the flashing of colors on its skin would resume for a split

second. Amicus-Gamma had assigned a unique color pattern for each letter

of the alphabet. Then Brandon, along with the help of Amicus-Gamma, had

developed software that would use sensors to pick up these patterns,

convert the data to English and push the audio file to a small speaker held

by the AS1.

“Right, as you know, we predominantly use liquid fuel chemical

propulsion to thrust our space vehicles outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. From there we use cold-gas chemical thrusters to make adjustments to

trajectories. Our most advanced form of high-speed space travel is utilizing

a gravitational slingshot, which still requires rocket thrusters to initiate. We

have evaluated that your ships appear to use a different method. Is this in

fact true?

And if so, can you provide a detailed explanation of the method

that you utilize?”

{Your method of rocket propulsion is a concept that we used similarly in

past variations of our ships, however, we used a fluorine ammonia

compound as our reactive substance. This method was no longer used after

discovering how to move our ships through space without the need for

finite resources.}

Carter was curious as Amicus-Alpha made its first movement toward its

3D visualizer. Carter adjusted his headset to begin recording visually along

with audio. {We have come to learn that polarization represents a pervasive and

potent force within the universe, with ubiquity across various celestial

bodies. For instance, Earth, Mercury, Jupiter, and Saturn are notable

examples within your solar system, each characterized by robust magnetic

fields. Notably, this signifies that half of the planets within your solar

system possess substantial magnetic field phenomena. Furthermore, and

paramount to our advancements in space travel, stars exhibit profoundly

intense and complex magnetic fields. With this knowledge, we practiced

rigorous experimentation aimed at harnessing and leveraging these

omnipresent magnetic fields.}

In several swift moves Amicus-Alpha created a small cylinder floating

above the visual pad. One end was labeled with a (−) and the other end with

a (+), like a battery. {This represents a simple magnet, currently it is focused on the strongest

present magnetic field, something you call the geomagnetic field.}

Amicus-Alpha raised a long finger and pushed the small holographic

cylinder as if it were a real object. The cylinder tumbled but soon returned

to its original orientation. Carter realized the (−) end was pointing down

toward Earth, which made sense as they were currently above Canada in the

ISS. {Over many years our species mapped the magnetic fields of the universe

and with that revealed magnetic riverways through the galaxies. Once we

created a ship that could withstand the immense pull of our hybrid

electromagnets and with the lack of friction in space, we soon were being

pulled through space by the immensely powerful magnetic fields at speeds

you could never reach with rockets or gravitational pulls.}

Carter thought long and hard about this. “You mentioned that the magnetic fields of stars are paramount to your

space travel, how so?”

{I will go into greater detail. The strength of a given magnetic field is

directly correlated to the speed that we can achieve with our ship. In

mapping these magnetic highways AS1 have recognized several routes that

weave between what you call magnetars, which are the highly collapsed

cores of massive stars known, in your language, as a type of neutron star. Magnetars have the most powerful magnetic fields in the universe, trillions

of times stronger than Earth’s magnetic field. When following these paths,

our ship’s speed can achieve, at best, 92 percent of the speed of light. However, when our destination requires us to leave the magnetar route, we

search for either young or massive stars, such as supernovae.}

“Which exhibit the next strongest pull compared to a magnetar,” Carter

said, doing his best to keep pace with typing notes on his iPad. {Correct, this progression continues until we enter a solar system like

yours that requires us to utilize the relatively weak magnetic fields of

planets and your G-type star, or as you refer to it, a “G-dwarf star” or a

“yellow dwarf.” Once we are in a planetary system, we typically can only

achieve speeds around one hundred million meters per second or roughly 30

percent of the speed of light.}

The AS1 returned to its dormant state, still as a stone statue, giving time

for Carter to digest this information. Over his time working with Amicus-Alpha, he had learned that the AS1 would always wait for the human to

initiate the next move, staying in this lifeless position for as long as Carter

needed or wanted. Thoughts and questions flew through his brain faster

than he could type them down on his iPad. The AS1 had essentially created

an interstellar set of freeways, highways, and backroads. Not only had an

intelligent being achieved nearly the speed of light, one of humanity’s

greatest goals, but it had just told him how to do it. AS1 Log 6

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: DW, GH

GIDEON: Why did you use the contact method that you did?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We needed to contact humans in the least threatening way. If we

contacted you from our home planet, communication would have taken far too long. If we came

directly to Earth, our presence would have been threatening. We concluded that 106.7521 AUs

was an appropriate distance to attempt communication.}

GIDEON: Had you ever attempted communication before?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No. This is the first time we attempted communication. GIDEON: Were you ever concerned that we humans might not have detected your signal?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No, we knew that we would be able to establish contact with humans. GIDEON: What would you have done if no one responded to your signal. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We would have adjusted frequencies, making them easier to detect

and try again. GIDEON: In your opinion, was the response to your signal fast or slow, or an appropriate

amount of time. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans responded to our first iteration of the signal. AS1 predicted

humans would have responded to the third. With that, the detection and response to our signal

was quicker than expected. GIDEON: Have the AS1 existed much longer than humans. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. Much longer. GIDEON: How much longer?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: It is difficult to say precisely as there is no exact moment in which a

species begins to “exist.” With that variable known, our best estimation is that AS1 has been

evolving for approximately 173.78004 million Earth years longer than humans. DECLAN: Let’s move on. Can you describe your home planet?

Focusing on description rather

than scientific evaluation?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Our home planet has already been discovered by humans and is

contained in the Kepler-62 System, specifically planet Kepler-62e. Our home planet is a

terrestrial exoplanet with a size and mass larger than Earth but smaller than Neptune. Our

planet does contain liquid water and is essential for the life that inhabits the planet. The

majority of living organisms on our planet are similar to what you would consider vegetation

and fungi. However, there are a variety of organisms capable of thought and movement. Similar

to your Earth, AS1 grew to become the only highly intelligent creatures on our planet. DECLAN: Can you describe what it looks like, on the surface of your planet?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: The surface of our planet would not be inhabitable to humans without

significant protection. Freezing wind can move upward of six hundred miles per hour and our

days are short with intense temperature fluctuations between day and night. Our organisms

have developed quick motor functions to extend and retract quickly in the event of hostile

environments. A visual effect that would look similar in comparison to your plants blowing in

the wind; however, these movements are generated by the organism itself and not the wind

pushing them. GIDEON: How were AS1 able to survive and evolve in these conditions?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Our ancestors lived underground and looked significantly different

than we do today. They had much thicker and stronger limbs used to dig vast networks of

tunnels. Our legs were placed in a row, three on each side of our bodies. Perhaps looking closer

to that of a beetle on your planet but with a singular body instead of a head, thorax, and

abdomen. DECLAN: Did you eventually leave the safety of your underground tunnels?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes, we will provide more information on this in our next session. Chapter 48

The line of black SUVs slowly made their way down the crowded streets of

lower Manhattan. Jamal watched from the protection of the bulletproof

window. He felt like a caged animal, no longer able to interact with the

public. He damned the AS1 as their presence had changed his life, likely

forever. Before the contact, few people would even recognize Jamal as he

wandered the streets of New York, unharassed. Now, stepping outside of his

security detail was considered high risk. His face was becoming

synonymous with the partnership of the AS1, making him one of the most

recognized and renowned figures in the world. “Sir, we are getting word there are some protests in front of the building,”

his driver said. “How bad?” Jamal asked, wishing he could just evaporate from this

world. “Not sure, but I recommend we delay your arrival.”

“Not possible, take me to the front.”

The driver nodded his acknowledgment. As they rounded the turn onto 43rd Street, Jamal could see the

commotion. Rows of people stood in front of the UN building, holding

signs, thrusting them up and down into the sky. As they drove closer, the

protesters took notice of the black SUVs, clearly shuttling a person of

importance. The angry mob turned their attention from the tall building and

directed it at the line of vehicles. The driver slowed the SUV’s speed to a crawl as the group of people

crowded around. Jamal could hear and feel the furious fists and boots

relentlessly pummeling the vehicle’s unyielding exterior metal shell. He

noticed many of the signs reading things like “They can’t be trusted” and

“AS1 = The apocalypse.” Jamal’s heart sank even deeper when he saw a

picture of his own face with red cartoon devil horns rising from his hairline. “Sir?

This is pretty bad!” the driver said, moving his head left and right in

an attempt to see past the protesters attempting to climb onto the hood of

the car. “Keep going; get me as close as you can,” Jamal said. His heart began to pound in his chest. Could this be the end?

What if one

of these activists had a gun?

Maybe a bullet to the head was the best

possible outcome for him. Jamal shook his head, trying to rid it of the dark

thoughts. As they closed in on the front steps, he could see the building

security guards beginning to push through the crowd in an attempt to create

a safe path. The SUV slowed to a stop. “Sir, I really don’t recomme—”

“Unlock this damned door!” Jamal shot back, feeling claustrophobic in

the cramped back seat. He pushed on the handle, the weight of the crowd

pushing back made it hard to open. He put his weight into it and as soon as

the protesters noticed that the door was opening, they moved out of the way

and yanked the door open. Jamal’s hand didn’t even have the chance to let

go of the handle and he was pulled out of the vehicle with the door. The

screaming of the angry mob was deafening. An egg hurtled past his head,

missing him by inches and smashed into the front passenger door of the

SUV. Just as the crowd felt like they would bury him, several large

powerful guards with Secret Service written on their bulletproof vests

shoved the swarm off of Jamal. With incredible force, they pushed on

Jamal’s back, causing him to lean down and forward and run toward the

steps of the UN building. They powered through the crowd, protesters

bouncing off the large men. Finally, they reached the steps and Jamal was

shuffled inside. The moment the doors closed behind him, Jamal fell to his hands and

knees. The guards reached down to check on him. “Get off me!” Jamal cried back between desperate pants of air. He

reached up to his neck and grasped his shirt collar. Pulling hard, the top

button gave way, launching it across the room as the fragile threads

snapped. He placed his hand back on the ground and took in several deep

breaths. One of the guards crouched down so his eyes were level with Jamal’s. “Sir, are you OK?” he asked in a voice that seemed too gentle to come

from a man of his size. Jamal nodded, closing his eyes and pulling in a long draw of air through

his nose. He slowly rose from the ground, checking his watch. He was late. “Damn this job,” he muttered under his breath and then turned his

attention to the guard. “I’ll take it from here, thank you.”

The ride up the elevator felt like it took an eternity and the walk to his

office even longer. Once there he quickly logged on to his computer and activated the

satellite communications app, allowing him to communicate with the ISS. “Declan, are you there?” he asked once the call showed it had connected. “Yes,” Declan’s familiar voice replied. “This better be good, I nearly died getting to the office this morning.”

“Excuse me?” Declan replied, sounding worried. “Never mind, what was so urgent?”

“Sir, there have been some developments, mostly coming from the AS1

logs.”

There was a pause, Jamal didn’t like the sound of this, and he couldn’t

withstand any more curveballs at this point. Declan continued. “Sir, when we established contact with the AS1 we all knew, and perhaps

assumed, that they would be more technologically advanced than we, more

evolved. This we had planned for, and it was expected that the public would

be tolerant; like I said, it’s almost expected. However, I have learned two

things that are cause for concern. Firstly, the AS1 species has been around

for one hundred and seventy-four million years. Given humans have been

around for, let’s say, two hundred and fifty thousand years. The AS1 have

been evolving and advancing for ninety-nine point nine percent longer than

humans, we are a damn blip on their timeline.”

Jamal remained silent for several moments. “OK, we can explain this away. The timeline of the universe is immense;

people know this. Although it may be alarming, and could cause fear that

the human race is inferior, I don’t see this being catastrophic.” Jamal hoped

his words were true. “Sir, I could potentially agree with that, but as I said, we learned two

things. Secondly, the AS1 have told us they have been observing Earth for

the last three hundred and eighty thousand years,” Declan said, emphasizing

the thousand in his sentence. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jamal said in a quiet hiss as if not

wanting anyone to overhear his reaction. “Jamal, the public can’t know about this,” Declan said, somberly. “Didn’t you say this was recorded in an AS1 log?

Those are to be

released to the public; the UN made an oath to keep all logs and other data

around the AS1 declassified.”

“Yes, this information was spoken during an AS1 log. But I have already

been able to transcribe the file with that content removed.”

“Declan!

We cannot go down this road, it’s a steep slippery path. We

have to remain honest and transparent.”

“Honesty and transparency will put the entire public into a panic, Jamal!

We can’t afford that. The AS1 are here, they’re on our fucking space station. If we cause panic now, the entire operation goes to shit. What would we do?

Ask the AS1 to leave?

Say sorry, but we changed our minds?

That’s not an

option at this point and you know it.”

“Firstly, that is an option, Declan. We have no reason to believe that AS1

would refuse or even take alarm in us asking them to leave. Secondly, if the

public finds out that we are hiding something from them, nothing will

spread panic faster than that.”

“They won’t find out, the transcription leaves no trace … Jamal, listen to

me. The fact that the AS1 have been watching us for our entire time on this

planet. The world can’t handle that right now. That gives the AS1 the upper

hand, makes us their fucking experiment. They know everything and we

know nothing. We MUST control the narrative, at least for now until we

build this partnership with them and can gain the public’s full trust in their

intentions.”

“Do they have your full trust in their intentions?” Jamal asked. “Yes,” Declan replied. “I can’t make the call now. Sit on the logs; we can delay their release. I

need to go to the board with this.”

“No, Jamal, you can’t go to the board—not yet. This has to stay between

us. I need to get off this damn ISS. I can do more from the UN building

than I can up here. Hang tight, please, Jamal. I’m begging you.”

“I’ll hold this information until you’re back on the ground; I’ll support

your early departure from the ISS.” Jamal ended the call and leaned back in

his leather chair, pulling hard at his long, greasy black hair. Chapter 49

Declan retrieved his meal after the food warmer chimed. Gideon watched

his own meal bag floating in front of him, a typical American dinner in

theory but lacking flavor. Node 1 was where Gideon spent much of his

time, the closest thing they had to a kitchen, and centrally located within the

space station. “How are you feeling with the logs?” Declan asked between slurps of

mashed potatoes. “What do you mean?”

Declan shrugged. “They are providing another piece of useful information, I suppose. The

communications help us to get an understanding of how the AS1 really tick

and function.”

Declan looked up and released his meal bag, leaving it floating in a slow

spiral in front of him, and rubbed his short beard scruff. “We need these to go well,” Declan said. “The world is watching, and we

have one shot at this.”

He reclaimed the bag, which had almost drifted beyond his reach, and

began slurping the mashed potatoes again. Gideon guessed where this was headed. “Are you referring to asking

Linda and me to step out of the interview during Log 2 and then Log 3 still

not getting submitted?”

Declan looked sternly at Gideon. “We need these to go well. Let’s just

say Log 3 was lost due to technical challenges. Gideon, can I trust you to

make sure these AS1 logs go well?”

“I mean yeah, but isn’t tampering with the logs a little, I don’t know,

dishonest?”

“Tampering?” Declan scoffed. “Tampering is a little aggressive, don’t

you think?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Well, what did you mean?” Declan asked. “I meant that it seems questionable to—change anything with the logs. I

mean, isn’t that the point of a log in the first place?

To record everything. If we are not recording everything, all the details, then it really isn’t an

accurate log.”

“Look, Gideon,” Declan said with a long sigh. “You’re a smart guy. You

know how important this whole thing is and there is a lot more riding on

these logs than you may think. We can’t afford to have anything published

that could make the AS1 look bad, right?”

Gideon shook his head. “I suppose I’m not really thinking of the logs that

way, as in how it makes the AS1 look. The purpose of the logs is to have a

set of documented conversations with the AS1, to share knowledge and

address any concerns or challenges that come up as we go through this

process. I just think we should report everything, that’s all.”

Declan smiled and looked away. “Gideon, here’s the problem. I think you

are aware, but the UN made the brilliant decision to share the AS1 logs with

the public. Perhaps they didn’t consider, although I warned them, that they

may contain content that would be alarming or concerning to the public. And right now, alarm and concern are the last things the public needs. I’m

not asking you to tamper with the logs, but I need you to consider the

audience that will listen to them and if a conversation is moving in a

direction that could alarm said audience, finish the discussion offline and

report it directly to me.”

Declan paused, taking a swig of water before continuing. “You were one of the first people to find the signal. You have shown pure

commitment and dedication to this project since day one. You want this to

succeed and so do I. Don’t fool yourself, there are lots of people out there,

in other countries, other industries and yes even factions inside the US that

would love for all of this to fail.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about people, agencies out there who would love to find

something they think could be hostile about the ASI or find some indication

of foul play. Because if they can find some evidence of that, they could use

that to take over. The military, NATO, the CIA, the NSA, our enemies, even

some of our allies. I mean there are all manner of groups that would love to

control this. Use it as an opportunity to push their own agenda, gain funds

to develop research. And if that happened, it would all be taken out of our

hands. Forget communication, forget cooperation, forget learning and

improving humanity. No, no.” He shook his finger in the air. “They would love to take over and use this as an excuse to create more weapons

contracts, or to use it as leverage against another nation. There is no telling

what they could do if they had full access and complete control of the AS1.”

“I don’t think that could happen,” Gideon said. “The UN has already

agreed to follow the SETI—”

“Gideon, all of that could change in an instant. If the right person gets in

the ear of the president, it could all change like that.” He snapped his

fingers. “Don’t think it hasn’t already been tried. We’re lucky to even be up

here. So, if that is the case, I’m going to do whatever I can to protect the

AS1 and their interaction with humanity.”

Gideon looked away and considered leaving as he had no interest in

political talks. “Whatever you say, boss.”

Declan let out a sigh. “Look, again, removing data from the logs is not

something we want to practice. But I am getting pulled heavily into

discussions back on Earth. I won’t go into details, but let’s just say the UN

is lacking structure and direction at the moment.”

Gideon rotated back to face Declan. “Anyway, I’m still going to be checking every day during the AS1

sessions, but I’m going to be around a little less.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Gideon asked, guessing the answer. “Well, Gideon, everyone has a pretty specific role around here. I need

someone I can count on to oversee, log findings, and keep us organized. That was my role, really, and now I see it becoming yours.”

“Are you going back to Earth sooner than planned?”

“I think it’s pretty likely.” Declan gave a serious nod. A silence hung in the air while Gideon digested this. “There will be a day when the next step comes, and everything will be

reviewed. Think of it like a court case and the AS1 logs the evidence. If

people are able to find any doubt, any cause for concern, it could hinder the

advancement of not only this project but the future of humanity.”

“And what is that next step?” Gideon asked. “Bringing the AS1 to Earth, Gideon. Bringing them to Earth.”

AS1 Log 11

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: DW, GH

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: What will humans do when resources on your planet become

depleted?

DECLAN: What makes you believe our resources will become depleted?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Data. DECLAN: Maybe when that day comes, we will have the technology allowing us to search for

a new home. This question is impossible to answer as the events and technologies are not

present. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Do humans anticipate this coming?

DECLAN: Yes, for the most part. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: If humans believe this will happen, what are humans doing to prepare

for this. GIDEON: We have explored the idea of colonizing other planets. Mars, in particular, but we’re

still developing the technology and the regulations. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: What technology gaps are preventing humans from living on Mars?

GIDEON: Well, for one, it’s too cold for humans to survive for long. The atmosphere is mostly

carbon dioxide and unbreathable. And then there’s ultraviolet radiation from the sun that would

be harmful. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Do you humans not have the technology to deal with these issues?

GIDEON: Well, I suppose we do, but another challenge is our space travel. We don’t have a

timely or cost-effective way to get all of the required infrastructure to Mars and established. Recent studies indicate we’re probably about ten to twenty years away from being able to land

a crew there. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: If you landed on Mars, what would humans do there?

DECLAN: The first step would be to colonize it, and then we’d be able to see how long, and

how well, we can actually live up there. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: If Earth became depleted of resources, rendering it uninhabitable. Is

the current plan then for humans to live on Mars?

DECLAN: Humans do not have a contingency plan for such an event. But I would say our

dream would be to learn space travel and find other planets that can sustain the human race. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: So ultimately, the goal for humans is to relocate to a new planet that

could sustain your species. DECLAN: More or less, I suppose that is the ultimate goal. Chapter 50

“Come on?

Nobody wants to play?!”

Michelle was being her usual energetic self, trying to convince the team

to play her another round of jacks, which she had yet to lose. “You already have me watering your plant experiments for the next ten

days, I have nothing left to wager,” Rajit shot back. Gideon hadn’t seen

Rajit win a single card game since they had been on the ISS. “Gideon?

Crach?

Linda?” she asked, now spinning in quick 360s as she

played in the zero gravity. Gideon just smiled and shook his head. “Durak or I don’t play,” Crach said back in his stern monotone voice. Durak was a complex Russian card game he had taught the crew several

days before. “Oh, screw that!” Linda said with a smile as she pulled herself through

Node 1, clearly not a fan of Crach’s favorite game. Gideon reached behind his head and without looking, grabbed a handle

allowing him to pull himself into Node 3.

After spending weeks on the ISS,

Gideon felt he could navigate the station with his eyes closed. He had

memorized where every handle, wire and imperfection existed. Declan was already in Node 3 working away on his iPad as he pretended

to use some of the exercise equipment, something they were required to do

daily. Today the Contact Team had worked together with the AS1 to

understand the political structure of the AS1s’ society, or lack thereof. Declan looked up as Gideon entered the small, shared space. “The AS1 sure were adamant that each of their beings is equal, as their

species all share one vast knowledge base. I just can’t wrap my head around

how that can work. A society with no hierarchy or chain of command?”

Declan said. Linda, who had followed Gideon into Node 3, likely to get away from

being pulled into another card game, spoke up next. “I asked how they had selected the crew to come to Earth’s solar system,

because surely that selection would be made based on some type of

assessment of skills or rank. Amicus-Beta answered that the AS1 only

reproduces when there is a ‘position’ to be filled, or a need for an additional AS1 due to overall population goals. Thus, at birth, an AS1s’ mission is

predefined. The crew that came to Earth’s solar system, and even to the ISS

had been appointed to do this since their first day alive.”

Gideon shook his head. “I can’t even imagine … not only from a personal

standpoint of having your entire life planned out for you. But also, the

amount of planning that must take for them. All of the alternative scenarios

they must play out.”

Linda nodded her agreement. “Any updates on when we can expect to gain access to the AS1 ship?”

Gideon asked, looking in Declan’s direction. “I think we are close; it sounds like Crach and Brandon have worked

together and from a technology standpoint, everything is worked out. Additionally, you have the support of Jamal and President Helland. Amicus-

Gamma was not too quick to agree, as you know, but sounds like they are

working out the details on their side.”

“Do we know what the hesitation was from the AS1?

They came on our

ship, why would they push back on us going on theirs?” Linda asked. Declan shrugged. “I wouldn’t read into it too much.”

Linda shot a look toward Gideon, with raised eyebrow and smirk as if to

say, “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“Excuse me, Declan?

But if there is hesitation on their side, I think we

have the right to know,” she said sternly. Gideon tried to pretend like he was now too invested in his iPad to be

listening, not wanting to get involved, but in fact very curious about the

response. “You’re right; I’m sorry, Linda. I just have a lot on my plate right now

but will do my due diligence to ensure that it’s safe. I think the AS1 are just

hesitant as they have some proprietary technologies on their ship and are

assessing what they are comfortable sharing.”

Gideon lifted his head from his iPad and shot the exact same look back in

Linda’s direction before directing his next comment back at Declan. “Proprietary technologies?

Like what?

That is the first I’ve heard of this,”

he said. Declan unbuckled himself from the zero-gravity treadmill, and Gideon

noticed that it hadn’t even been turned on. “Jesus, you guys, can you just back off for once. Find a little trust in there

why don’t you,” he said as he reached for a handle. “Trust you or the AS1?” Linda asked. “The process, Linda. Trust the process,” Declan replied before leaving

the tight quarters of the node. AS1 Log 18

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH, LS

LINDA: How did you manage to learn our language so quickly, you processed it faster than the

play time of the actual files. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We broke it up between us and then showed the learned information

through our visual language. We can transfer data between ourselves in a similar fashion as

loading software to one of your computers. LINDA: I would like to conduct an experiment. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Please describe experiment. LINDA: I have a piece of literature that I would like you to read. Once you have completed

this, we will observe you transferring what you have read to Amicus-Gamma. We would like to

time this transfer. Once you have described the book to Amicus-Gamma, we will have Amicus-

Gamma write down what he has learned from you. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Please describe the literature. LINDA: The book is named The Pillars of the Earth and is nearly 400,000 words or a thousand

pages long. I will have Brandon transfer the file to the shared drive. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Is this how humans would view the file?

LINDA: Well, typically humans would read from the physical book, not a computer file. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Is this a possibility?

I would like to complete the experiment utilizing

human technology. LINDA: Well, a book is hardly a technology, or at least very old technology. But as a matter of

fact, I do have the book. It’s one of my favorite reads. Chapter 51

~ 22 days after contact ~

Squinting through his hangover, James kicked the half-full beer can out of

the way as he made his way to the faded yellow couch. Brad, one of his

fraternity brothers, was already seated in front of the silent television. “Has it started yet?” James asked. “Nah, man. Clean that shit up, the smell is killin’ me right now.” Brad

nodded toward the spilled beer, stale liquid slowly making its way into the

grains and cracks of the worn-out wooden floor. James ignored the request and sat on the couch, rubbing his temples with

his pointer and middle fingers. Typically, after a night like last night, he

would sleep in until at least noon. But this morning he and many others

made a point to watch Declan’s interview. Prior to this whole AS1 thing,

James hadn’t known who Declan was, or really any of the people he now so

intently followed on a daily basis. Since when did college kids care about

what Jamal, the UN secretary-general, had to say?

Brad leaned forward and burped. “What’s up with the volume?” James asked. “It’s off,” Brad replied flatly. “Why?”

“’Cause I sat down here, and the remote’s over there.”

James followed Brad’s gaze to the corner of the house where the remote

lay on the floor. He noticed both AA batteries ejected upon some sort of

impact and lay on the floor a few feet away. After repairing the mangled device, he commanded the television to

speak. “As the highly anticipated update from Declan Wilter is about to occur,

please remember that this is a live interview and viewer discretion is

advised.”

The screen broke into two panels, the news anchor’s face in one and

Declan’s in the other, via webcam. He nodded and waved. “Declan, can you hear us?” the anchor asked. “Sure can!

How great is this?

Live chat via webcam from the

International Space Station?

I tell you what, these past couple weeks have

been nothing but a bunch of new experiences. For all of us.” Declan was

beaming. Brad threw James a look. The two had decided not to like Declan, and

scoffed at everything he said, even if it lacked fair reason. “We appreciate you taking the time to talk with us today, you must be a

busy man. What can you tell us?”

“Well, I can tell you … Shannon?

Is it Shannon?”

“Yes, I’m Shannon.” The news anchor laughed. “Well, Shannon, this has been one of the greatest experiences of both my

life and our crew’s lives up here. Truly remarkable stuff. The AS1 are

confirmed to be as friendly and as curious as we are. We have already

begun making some incredible steps toward understanding each other.”

Declan was now so close to his webcam, that both his chin and the top of

his head were cropped out of the image. “How does a team like yours confirm, as you say, that the AS1 are

nonhostile?”

“I used the word friendly, Shannon, and we have a team of highly trained

and skilled analysts, linguists, and scientists working with the AS1 every

single day. Through extensive logged interviews and experiments we have

all come to the same conclusion that they mean us no harm. They are

curious travelers, just as excited about finally finding life out in the vastness

of space as we are. It’s truly remarkable.”

“I have a statement here from General John Higgens—”

“OOHRAH!” James and Brad both yelled at the mention of Higgens’s

name. “That, quote, ‘Although the AS1 shows no sign of being a threat to the

human population, the armed forces will continue to keep a heightened state

of emergency while they are within close range of our home,’ end quote. What do you make of this, Declan?

It is concerning to hear you say they are

friendly, yet the military seems to view them as a threat.”

Declan’s face showed a sign of irritation at the comment. “Shannon, come on, of course the military is going to continue keeping

its guard up. I would too; there is no reason not to. I’m on the phone with the general day in and day out, and I assure you, he is as confident in the

AS1s’ intentions as I am.”

Chapter 52

With a hiss, the Transfer Zone area B door slid open, revealing the interior

of the AS1 craft. Instantly, Gideon experienced an eerie sensation as if the

world had been cloaked in a muted shroud, muffling all sound. An

unanticipated silence enveloped them, a haunting stillness that seized his

vocal cords when he attempted to communicate with the group. It was as

though an unseen hand had clamped over his mouth, stifling any utterance. Fear crept into his mind like a relentless parasite, gnawing at his

composure. Gideon closed his eyes tight, attempting to suppress the rising panic. Why should we fear?

If the AS1 meant harm, why now, why here?

What

could possibly be gained?

he thought. Gideon reopened his eyes, only to see the sight of fear mirrored in

Michelle’s eyes, reigniting the creeping dread within him. Movement caught Gideon’s attention as Carter initiated a series of cryptic

hand signals. The group struggled to decipher their meaning in their state of

disarray. Carter slowed down and eventually, Gideon concurred with a nod

when Carter gestured “OK” and pointed in his direction. With the crew finally composed, they scanned the eerie surroundings

only to discover the AS1 aliens conspicuously absent. Before them lay a

vast, circular expanse, its smooth, towering walls curving upward into an

intimidating unknown. The space was significantly larger than anything

within the ISS. The atmosphere, or the gaseous medium surrounding them,

was hazy, obscuring their vision like an impenetrable fog. Yet, this fog

possessed a strange quality, resembling a myriad of minuscule, shimmering

diamonds suspended in the air, casting an unsettling glint. Gideon ventured

to move forward into the ship, but with nothing but sheer, featureless walls

confronting them, navigating proved nearly impossible. Suddenly a brilliant flash of light could be seen in the distance. The AS1?

The group exchanged looks. The light continued to shimmer but fluctuated

in shades and colors. Rajit’s face tightened into a focused look of confidence, and he pushed

off the door, slowly gliding toward the beacon. Wow, thought Gideon. He’s made progress. The group awkwardly found themselves following, helping each other

maintain the correct trajectories. Gideon heard the muffled sounds of his heart pulsing in his eardrums. It

felt as if he were underwater. He noticed, flowing through the air, were very

distinct trails of light. Like rivers of fluorescent blues and greens reflecting

off the shimmering fog. He could see Linda tracking one of the light trails

with her eyes, a look of awe and confusion on her face. The shape of the AS1’s body could now be seen in the distance, the

beacon of light coming from the center of the large figure. Gideon felt helpless as they drifted closer to the AS1.

With the lack of

handles or walls within reach, no one had any control over their trajectory. A new feeling of panic began to claw at Gideon’s mind as he realized just

how useless they were in this place. Floating blobs, unable to choose where

they were going and unable to communicate. As they neared the AS1, the creature reached out a couple of its long

arms and slowed each of the team’s motion, pulling them to the ground. Gideon felt the long fingers wrap around his thigh. The grip was strong but

gentle as it pulled him toward itself. It positioned each person in perfect stillness such that they could not

reach anything or each other. Gideon remembered watching them do this

before with other objects. The AS1s’ ability to place items floating in zero

gravity into total stillness was mind-blowing. Now Gideon and his team

were those objects, floating ducks. Unable to move in any direction. The large being held up the tablet with words. {Are you comfortable?}

The group hesitated, but each eventually nodded. Quickly the board switched, showing new words. {Good, welcome to our environment.}

Gideon looked around taking in the features of the massive room. The

walls curved smoothly and led Gideon to believe they were inside a large,

egg-shaped room. Perhaps fifty feet across and high, it was hard to tell in

the shifting fog. The lack of technology was confusing as the room

appeared completely absent of anything but smooth walls. Either this

wasn’t a room meant for science or flying the craft, or the AS1 had a vastly

different way of doing things. The alien stood motionless as the human team took in their surroundings. To Gideon’s amazement, Linda began to use sign language. The AS1

flashed several colors indicating that they understood the gestures. The AS1 tablet displayed new words. {Linda has communicated with us through a secondary language used by

humans that does not require audio accompaniment. She requested we teach

your team some simple communications.}

The tablet switched to one word. {Yes.}

The AS1 pulsed a light bluish green. The tablet then updated to a new word. {No.}

The AS1 then pulsed a dark purple. For the next several minutes Gideon and the team watched intently as the

AS1 taught them the meaning of various communicative color

combinations. Rajit’s jaw was slightly open. Carter typed furiously at his

tablet, asking them to slow down as needed. Gideon simply watched and

learned. Soon, Linda was communicating with the AS1 in a visual dance using

sign language and understanding the AS1 response as they flashed various

colors. She looked back at the science team, eyes glossy with joy. Gideon

understood what this moment must be like for an accomplished linguist. Communication with an extraterrestrial life form in their ancestral

language. Chapter 53

The ISS’s orbit around Earth made it appear as though the blue planet was

always rolling away from their orientation. Gideon observed from the

Cupola as the sun began to fall out of view, placing Earth between the ISS

and the sun. Moving at 17,100 miles per hour meant the ISS orbited Earth

every ninety minutes, allowing one to observe sixteen sunsets and sixteen

sunrises per day. Gideon never grew tired of watching as the beautiful

planet slowly disappeared into the blackness of its own shadow, leaving a

thin rainbow of light across its upper radius for several minutes before

going completely black. As the thin arched band faded away, Gideon heard a sound behind him. Looking back, he was surprised to see Carter floating at the Cupola

entrance, arms stretched up in a Y, holding on to the diameter of the small

entry. For a moment, Gideon felt trapped, his only exit from the Cupola

blocked by the thin dark man. A man who had never sought Gideon out for

a direct conversation. Now, Carter floated, almost as motionless as the AS1,

just several feet away, looking at him. Gideon awkwardly turned back to the now completely black vastness of

space. “Here for the view?” Gideon asked. Carter pushed off, coming in closer, stern face never wavering. He

positioned himself rather close, though on the ISS the crew quickly became

comfortable with the often-close quarters. After a pause, Carter spoke. “Gideon, tell me what you observed

yesterday onboard the AS1 ship?”

Gideon hesitated, brain quickly running through the events in perfect

recollection. “Why are you asking me?”

“Because you seem to be one of the few who hasn’t become mentally

mesmerized and compromised by the AS1.

Now tell me, did you observe

anything yesterday that seemed suspicious?”

“The ship docking attachment?” Gideon replied. Carter’s eyes widened in surprise and seemed pleased. “Exactly. How did the AS1 build such a perfect mating adapter?

It lines

up with the PMA flawlessly. I have considered 3D printing, machining, or

casting, but after reviewing my pictures, none of it fits. Gideon, the AS1

continue to surprise me, but this … this worries me.”

“What concerns you specifically?”

“Even the conversations I have with Amicus-Alpha, it almost feels

scripted, and the questions loaded. It’s like they’ve done this a hundred

times,” Carter replied. Gideon nodded but did not speak. “It’s like everything that has happened with the AS1 is planned and

calculated by them and we are simply passengers. Additionally, I was

studying th—”

“Gents!

I have just finished reviewing all the logs from the encounter,”

Declan interrupted, gliding into the small Cupola, a space too small to

comfortably fit the three men. Carter’s face tightened in annoyance. “I noticed you sat that one out, too

scared?”

Declan either did not hear the comment or did not care. “Incredible stuff, honestly!

I am going to hold a briefing with the team

soon to formally announce, but I wanted to bring you up to speed first. I am

planning on departing for Earth early. As I am sure you have heard, we are

reorganizing SETI and the United Nations, as extraterrestrial relations are

now a real thing. Can you freakin’ believe that?

We will now have an

Extraterrestrial Relations Division in the UN. SETI will be reworked and

rebranded as it is no longer just a ‘search’ for life, but a communication

with extraterrestrial life.”

Carter opened his mouth to make a remark, but Declan continued. “Anyways, I wanted to inform you of this and will provide details of the

repr—”

“Declan!

For God’s sake, slow down and look around you,” Carter

snapped. “What the hell was that press conference yesterday?

How can you

tell the world, ‘We have all come to the same conclusion that they mean us

no harm’?

You never fucking asked us our opinions.”

Declan looking taken aback for once, hesitated. “Carter, we have all been communicating profusely day and night, I have

been hearing nothing but positive feedback and experiences about the AS1.

Perhaps I should have gotten an official statement from each team member

before going public … shall we now?”

Declan prepared his tablet for notes. “Do you think they are a threat?”

“I have inconclusive data to say one way or another if they pose a threat. But this I can guarantee you. They are not telling us everything, and they

seem to have a plan that is a lot deeper than a meet and greet.”

AS1 Log 27

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

GIDEON: Log 27, at timestamp 18:00.

Interviewer Gideon Haas. Amicus-Beta, how are you?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No change from last interview. GIDEON: Is there anything specific you would like to talk about in this exchange?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: Good. What is your question?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Has the human species ever been threatened by another unique

species on Earth?

GIDEON: Please define “threatened.”

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Another species causes concern for the advancement of your species. GIDEON: Uh, no I suppose not, are you implying you may be that species?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No, the question has nothing to do with the AS1 presence, it has to do

with the reactionary behavior of the human race. GIDEON: OK, well, like I said, no I don’t believe we ever have. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: What about in the beginning of human existence?

GIDEON: We don’t exactly have records of that, but I assume you could say we had to coexist

with other mammals long ago that were threatening to us. Back in the Stone Age, humans faced

animals like the saber-toothed tiger, and other large predatory animals. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: How did your species learn to coexist with them, and what is the

relationship now?

GIDEON: Well, I guess most of the species are extinct now. But I’m sure the two species

would clash and fight for the upper hand. I’m not sure I’m the right person for this question. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: How many species have gone extinct on Earth?

GIDEON: It’s difficult to provide an exact number of species that have gone extinct on Earth

because many extinctions have occurred throughout the planet’s history, and not all of them

have been documented. The number of documented extinctions is a fraction of the total number

of species that have existed. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: When looking at extinction rates since humans have become

civilized, do you believe they have increased or decreased?

GIDEON: I’m not sure I understand the relevance of that question. Nor do I have the data to

provide you an accurate answer. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Please provide your best guess. GIDEON: I would imagine that extinction rates have increased since humans have evolved. It

is pretty well-documented that human activities, particularly habitat destruction, pollution, and

the introduction of invasive species, have significantly contributed to the extinction of many

species. What about on your planet?

How many species have gone extinct?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: None. GIDEON: I find that hard to believe. From what you know about Earth, why do you think we

have seen such a large number of extinctions and adversity compared to your planet?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Our planet is much older than yours, and perhaps more stable in the

sense we haven’t seen significant climate change events such as your ice age. Additionally, our

species being primarily plant life, don’t directly compete for resources like yours. Chapter 54

Gideon found himself amused by the look on Linda’s face as the Soyuz

MS-19 shuttle slowly became invisible from the small port window. Her

expression was nothing short of relief and joy. “Cheers to a station of scientists?

Well, and one random kid.” Carter

winked at Gideon. The truth was, Carter was likely the most relieved by

Declan’s return to Earth. Carter’s highly calculated and logical way of

thinking was far from a match for Declan’s brain, which recently had been

labeled by the team as one similar to that of a Labrador. Linda pushed away from the window, gliding back into a reclined

position, which turned into a slow-motion backflip that put her directly next

to Gideon. “Did you complete your experiment?” Gideon asked. “We did, absolutely stunning,” Linda replied. She paused, choosing her

words before continuing. “I requested Amicus-Beta be isolated in BEAM2; I gave it the physical

copy of The Pillars of the Earth. That alone was an exciting moment,

watching Amicus-Beta read a book, physically turning the pages. Of course,

it read the entire book in just over thirty minutes, turning a page about every

two seconds. Once done, I retrieved the book and allowed Amicus-Gamma

to join Amicus-Beta in BEAM2.

I requested that they not produce any

communication until asked. Which as a result has been one of the only

times I have seen them without any light coming from their skin, just a solid

dark greenish-brown.”

She paused again, now seeing that Carter was intently listening as well. “Anyways, once Amicus-Gamma was in the room, I told Amicus-Beta to

transfer what was learned to Amicus-Gamma. I had a stopwatch to time this

transfer of knowledge. Once I said go it happened so fast I didn’t even get

the stopwatch stopped in time and had to go back to the video feed to time

it. The light on their skin flashed for 1.3 seconds and then went back to their

natural greenish-brown color. Amicus-Beta then let me know Amicus-

Gamma knew the book.”

“So, Amicus-Beta transferred the entire book to Amicus-Gamma in 1.3

seconds?” Carter asked, sounding skeptical. “That was my understanding. At this point I asked Amicus-Beta to leave

BEAM2, ensuring that no additional data could be transferred between the

two. I then asked Amicus-Gamma how it would like to transcribe what it

had learned about the book. Amicus-Gamma requested nine hundred and

eighty-two pieces of paper and a writing device.” Linda stopped talking and

pushed off the wall, floating away from Gideon. “Oh, you can’t leave us with a cliffhanger like that!” Gideon called after

her. Linda reached the far wall and rummaged through a container, mounted

to the wall. She then turned to face both Gideon and Carter, holding

something behind her back. “Amicus-Gamma rewrote the entire book, word for word. It’s perfect, I

spent hours looking for any errors or differences. But that’s not all,” she

said, her face twisted in thought. “How could there possibly be more?

They rewrote the entire damn book

perfectly,” Carter said. Linda revealed what she had been hiding behind her back. In her hands

was a stack of several notebooks, which she then held up so Gideon and

Carter could see the front. Gideon gasped. “Amicus-Gamma not only rewrote the book perfectly, but also drew the

cover in amazing detail. You guys, Amicus-Gamma never saw the book but

then drew this,” Linda said. Gideon observed the drawing, and the detail. Of course, not in color due

to the writing device Amicus-Gamma had been provided, the details were

amazing. The drawing was done in a unique way, almost as if Amicus-

Gamma had never lifted the pen from the paper, drawing the cover in one

long tangled line. “These damn aliens are just full of surprises, aren’t they?” Carter said. The three floated in silence for several moments before Linda turned her

attention back to Gideon. “How have the logs been going, Gideon?

I really haven’t had a chance to

review them as much as I’d like,” she said. “To be honest, yesterday was a little weird. They seem highly interested

and almost concerned with our planet and its overall workings. What I

mean is, they asked about species and how they have gone extinct, and

inquired what the impact of that has been on us. I struggled to understand

the relevance, so I began returning the questions. Asking what their

indigenous species are like. As we know, they don’t seem to have faced

much adversity in the past. No wars among themselves, nor conflict over

land. Their planet was nearly uninhabitable.”

“The atmosphere you mean?” Carter asked. “Yes. Their planet experiences intense heat fluctuations and massive

storms and, in agreement with what Rajit has concluded, it seems their

planet only contained one ‘intelligent’ being. The rest is mostly plant life

similar to moss and ground cover, and small organisms similar to our

bacteria, bugs and some small animals. Perhaps they were able to survive

and evolve in the treacherous conditions due to the lack of competition

from other species. Either way, after surviving a long time underground,

they eventually developed what they describe as living pods that orbit

around their planet. In these they’ve lived the majority of their existence. They continued to advance in their orbital pods. The pods contain the exact

same atmospheric buildup as their planet but protect them from the extreme

storms and heat in low orbit.”

“OK, so they live off-surface.”

“Yes, which led me back to their planet.” Gideon paused. “When do they

visit?

How do they get food?

And from the sounds of it, they are able to

build from matter. It’s not clear how, but according to Amicus-Beta they get

the majority of their resources and food from uninhabited planets or rocks.”

“So, they eat rocks?” Linda asked with a raised eyebrow. Rajit, who had recently drifted into the now cramped node, chimed in. “From what I understand, they are able to harvest any type of material from

their planet and asteroids—even chemicals from the air, from the soils, from

the rocks and minerals, any kind of plant life. I think they are able to either

harvest these or break the materials down to a point that they can rebuild

them on a molecular level into whatever sustenance and materials they

need. The way the AS1 understands and thinks of particles is quite different from ours. To be honest, once I understand the differences, no doubt it will

lead to a better understanding of the behaviors between atoms and their

builds.”

“A little strange that we were able to breathe in their ship’s atmosphere,

wouldn’t you say?” Carter asked. “I believe they adjusted it so it would be habitable for us; we have given

them the full molecular breakdown of our required atmosphere,” Rajit

replied. Carter shook his head and then, unexpectedly slammed his fist into the

small metal tray next to him. The loud sound quickly gained everyone’s

attention. “Aren’t you guys supposed to be experts?

I feel like I’m working with

fucking children. What are the chances the AS1 just happens to be able to

exist in our atmospheric pressure?

The range of pressure or lack of pressure

throughout space is massive and critical to the survival of living organisms. What about temperature?

They just happen to enjoy the same twenty-two-

degree Celsius environments we do?

What are the odds of that?”

“Yes, just as a deep-sea fish would die instantly if brought to the surface,

its body can’t handle the lack of pressure. Does seem oddly convenient. I

have thought of this, Carter,” Rajit said. “Then speak up!

You guys, we are here to analyze. If things don’t add up,

we must bring those to Declan’s attention. There are so many factors, such

as temperature tolerances, pressure as we just stated; how is it they can

breathe our air without issue?

The AS1 were far too prepared for this. I

believe they have had more practice than they are telling us, and we need to

prove it.” Carter lifted his hand from the metal tray; a small dent remained. Chapter 55

~ 72 days after contact ~

Never in a million years did the boy expect his family to own a vacation

home on Vancouver Island. The view from the house looked west over the

Pacific Ocean and would see the sun fall behind the vast blue every night. The only way of getting to the house from Vancouver, BC, was by ferry and

then driving for two hours up a long winding road, the last half hour being

dirt. The boy’s father had joked when they toured the house for the first time. “You know, son, even if the aliens are here to hunt humans, it’ll be a while

before they find this place.”

Everyone laughed at the time, but still had a sense of unease surrounding

the AS1 and their presence on the Space Station. It felt too close for

comfort. After the initial three weeks of 24/7 coverage without much new

information, the networks had settled into two hours a night on

developments, mostly talking heads rehashing the same points everyone

had already heard. While watching the daily AS1 update, his father was

drawn to a segment by Neil Slater, a well-known real estate investor. Neil

talked about low baseline opportunity, explaining that since the housing and

stock market had recently crashed and were resting at the bottom, it was an

opportune moment to invest. The simple theory made sense and quickly

began catching on. The boy’s family purchased the home one week later. The Dow Jones stock market, though reacting slower, had been showing

a similar trend with increases in the last couple of weeks. The boy noticed

that the tensions that had set in after the public announcement of the aliens

seemed to be lifting. His eighth-grade classes were almost back up to full

attendance and the movie theater up the street had set a date to reopen as

well. His mother explained that the world is balanced upon a very fragile

economic system, and she believed people were far more afraid of that

system collapsing than they were of the aliens. Now that the economy seemed to be recovering, the quality and way of life were recovering as

well. Chapter 56

Gideon sat in Node 1 perched over the table, using his thighs to hold him in

place. Holding the copper washer in his hand, he outstretched his arm,

knuckles facing up and drew in a long breath of air. He concentrated on

maintaining absolute stillness while keeping his breath held, eyes focused

on his outstretched fist. Slowly, Gideon began to open his fingers and once

they were completely straight, he carefully lifted his hand upward revealing

the copper washer floating in space. Once his hand was clear of potentially

touching the small metal object, he pulled it away quickly and moved in for

a better look. Although it remained in the same area, he could see a very

slow rotation to the right. Gideon let out his breath, retrieved the levitating washer and placed it

again back in his palm to try again. He wondered if it had taken the AS1

practice to be able to leave objects behind in perfect motionlessness or if it

was just a gifted skill they had. Just as Gideon was going to restart the process, Carter glided gracefully

into the node, looking more irritated than normal. “Rajit?!” he shouted, as if pretending he didn’t notice Rajit was just a few

feet away from him. “Yes, Carter?

What is it now?” Rajit replied, a tone of annoyance in his

voice. “When are you going to get that damn space plant out of our lab?”

“You mean Fred?” Rajit replied. Gideon knew what they were referring to. The acorn-shaped organic that

the AS1 had given the team on the day of their first contact had grown into

a sizable treelike plant, reaching a height of nearly three feet. Resembling a

miniature palm tree, its upper part exhibited a dense, fur-like appearance,

boasting a vibrant orange hue reminiscent of a creation from a Dr. Seuss

book. Dubbed “Fred” by Rajit, the most intriguing feature of this alien plant

was its ability to swiftly retract into a tightly packed ball in response to

disturbances, such as inadvertent collisions. “It’s crowding the physics station; I can hardly work at the laptop without

that damn plant bumping into me. And when it does touch me, it scares the shit out of me when it retracts,” Carter said. “Carter, that is the first ever human-grown alien plant … find it in you to

appreciate it for what it is. That said, I’ll put in a request to have it moved to

the Columbus Lab.”

Carter just grunted before continuing his way toward Node 4, likely to

get some rest. Rajit pulled himself over and positioned himself against the opposite wall

of Gideon. “Well, what did you find out?” Gideon asked, quickly placing the washer

back into the Velcro pocket of his pants. “For starters, the initial theories on the molecular structure breakdown

did at least pass the sniff test.”

Rajit had been spending countless hours in the lab researching and

reviewing the data Amicus-Alpha had provided on an AS1 technology that

was being referenced to as molecular reconstruction. “Really?” Gideon asked, interested in what he had learned. “Yeah, and thirty-seven scientists out of the initial forty solved the

theorem using the AS1 data. So, all the results back up what the AS1 have

been saying. Very interesting.”

Rajit and Carter had been given nearly unlimited scientific support back

on Earth. Access to hundreds of subject matter experts in various fields and

the ability to run experiments in a gravity environment versus the

weightlessness of the ISS. “It is.” Gideon pulled out his pocket tablet from his side leg pocket. “Are

the engineering and geology labs finding beneficial uses for the

technology?”

“Yeah, but—I have something else you should look at.”

“What’s that?”

“Check it out.” Rajit’s eyes lit up. “I don’t want to jump the gun here, but

I’ve been running some hypothetical models on cell malignancy.”

“Malignancy?

You mean cancer?”

“Yeah. I’ve been reading a lot about the latest molecular residual disease

trials, mostly from China and India, and it’s pretty interesting stuff. The

most advanced research labs show promise of relapse-free survival. But the

limitations in our knowledge of cellular breakdown are what is stopping

everything. But with these new avenues from the AS1, things may change.”

“Really?” Gideon asked as he put his tablet away. “How so?”

“If we were able to apply molecular reconstruction methods to our human

biology, our whole understanding of single-cell sequencing and technology

could change. It would change immune-oncology combinations,

biomarkers, therapeutics, all kinds of things.”

“Are you saying the AS1 may hold the cure for cancer?” Gideon asked. “I’m saying”—Rajit rubbed his forehead—“I see some possibilities here. And I don’t know what the technological limits are, but I guarantee they are

way beyond ours, that’s for sure.”

“So, what’s the next step?”

Rajit looked Gideon straight in the eyes. “We pursue this and hope the

AS1 are willing to turn over their technologies.”

Gideon and Rajit sat in silence, wondering where this discovery could

take them. Could they really be on the cusp of finding a cure for cancer?

Part IV

INTERVENTION

Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread

within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things

are bound together. All things connect. – Chief Seattle

~ 5 years after contact ~

Chapter 57

Declan sighed and looked out of his UN office window. In the last several

years, Declan had pushed hard to inject himself into the UN, eventually

leading to his election as secretary-general, replacing Jamal who had moved

to the role of president of the General Assembly. Tension balled up in the pit

of his stomach as he thought about his upcoming meeting. This was the

moment he had been waiting for. Everything rode on the outcome of this;

Declan had to play his hand perfectly. It was time to review with Jamal and

seek approval from the council. Declan left his office and walked to another floor. As he grew closer with

each step, he felt more excitement growing within him. He flipped through

the notecards he had written up, highlighting some of the key points he

needed to make. This was his moment, and he would capture it. He knew

Jamal was not going to be ready for this, and it was better to catch him off

guard. Declan checked the knot of his blue tie, ensuring it was snug and

straight. Dress to impress, he thought. As he rounded the final turn before

Jamal’s office, Declan tossed the notecards into the nearest waste bin. Never would he be caught checking his notes when debating. He stopped in front of Jamal’s office door and took a deep breath before

knocking. “Come in.”

“Morning, Jamal. Ready to talk?”

Jamal stood and pointed to the plush leather chairs. “Ready as ever. Have

a seat.”

“I will stand, if you don’t mind,” Declan said. “Whatever suits you,” Jamal responded, lowering himself into one of the

chairs and pulling one leg across the other. “To start this off, I would like to establish a clear baseline of where we

are today. What is the current state of public opinion over the AS1?” Declan

asked, already knowing the answer. “Better than we could have hoped. There are lots of challenges among the

people, of course, a million conspiracy theories, but also good discussions and debates going on. I’m encouraged. The majority of the public seems to

be coming around to accepting our new reality.”

“That’s good,” Declan said. “We are nearing the next step. The latest

development, which we anticipated, is going to be an exciting but

challenging phase.”

“Challenging phase?” Jamal flinched. “What is that?

There are plenty of

developments that have caused challenges.”

Declan rubbed his chin and sighed. “Well, to put it bluntly, the AS1 are

requesting to land on Earth.”

Jamal slowly nodded. Declan knew he was considering the numerous

conversations they’d had about this moment and all of the complications. “I

see. I guess we’re finally here.”

“Yes, we are.”

“So”—Jamal sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach

—“what changed?”

“What has changed?” Declan repeated, dramatically. “Nothing and everything and at the same time, Jamal. Nothing has

changed from a technical standpoint. There is no ‘thing’ that is driving this. However, you just said it yourself. The people of this planet have grown to

trust and support the AS1.

Many, in fact, are eager to meet them and grow

this partnership. Simply put, in our last AS1 log, Amicus-Beta formally

requested an action plan to get them permission and ultimately access to our

planet.”

Jamal leaned forward in his chair and ran his hand through his shoulder-

length black hair. Sliding several long straight locks behind his right ear. “An action plan to come to Earth,” he repeated in a soft tone, digesting

each word. “I’m assuming you reviewed the terms of contact established by the UN

Department of Extraterrestrial Affairs?” Jamal asked. “Nobody knows that piece of literature better than I do,” Declan replied

confidently. “And it is clear within Section 12a that the AS1 have satisfied

all requirements that would need to be met in order to be granted access to

our planet.”

Jamal replied with a long sigh, moving his hand from grooming his

greasy hair to his mouth, allowing him to chew on his thumbnail. “Have you reviewed this with General Whitfield?” Jamal asked. “No sir, you are the first I have come to. I need your support first so I can

then drive the conversation through.”

“My support?” Jamal laughed cynically. “If you’re looking for my support you don’t have it. What do we possibly

have to gain from letting them come to our planet?

What can be gained here

that can’t be gained on the ISS?”

Declan was slightly caught off guard by Jamal’s stance. His eyes

sharpened; he loved a good fight. “With all due respect, sir. Don’t you think that is a bit close-minded?

This

goes far beyond what we can quantitatively gain. We are talking about

building an alliance with the most technologically advanced species humans

have ever interacted with. This is not a relationship we should just brush off

because it makes us uncomfortable. We—”

“You think I’m worried about it because it makes us uncomfortable?”

Jamal interrupted. “Jesus, Declan, you’re so in love with these damn aliens you’d trust them

with your life. I’m worried about letting a creature, who probably has the

technology to eliminate us in an instant, gain access to our precious planet.”

“And you treat them like they are some race that you dislike for no given

reason,” Declan shot back. Jamal chewed his lip. “And you don’t think we could eliminate them in a second?

With the

flick of a switch, we could detach their ship from the ISS and vaporize it

with the AS1 inside.”

Declan intentionally softened his voice for his next point. “The AS1 are the ones taking the risk here, not us. We would only allow

three to five at the most to come down. They would make the journey on

our ship under our terms. They aren’t the threat; we are. They trust us and

we must show that trust back. They have earned it.”

Jamal stood and walked to the window. He put his hands on his hips and

leaned back, stretching his lower back. “I wasn’t ready to make this

decision,” he said. Declan hid his smile. “We knew this moment would come, but now it puts us on our back feet. They initiated it and now we have to respond. It doesn’t allow us to remain

in control.”

“We absolutely are still in control,” Declan said. “We will dictate the

terms.”

“Yes, but now, anything we do will be seen as capitulating to them.”

“I disagree. Th—”

Jamal interrupted again. Typically, Declan wouldn’t tolerate this. However, in this situation he welcomed it as it showed Jamal was flustered. “Think about it; I’m not just talking about us and them. I’m talking about

everyone.” He waved his arms theatrically. “The public is going to see this

as us doing what they want. They don’t see the terms that we set out. They

just see that the AS1 asked, and we obliged.”

Declan allowed for a long pause to ensure Jamal was finished. “Leave that up to me, Jamal. It’s what I’m good at. This entire thing will

be portrayed as a mutual decision between us and the AS1.”

“It’s still going to be a tough sell,” Jamal said. “It’s not,” Declan said with a shrug. “I got this, and the people are ready. It’s been five long years. With the support of AS1, we have made leaps and

bounds in modern health and technology. The AS1 are our allies, and we

have to treat them as such.”

Jamal slowly nodded. “And what would your proposal be?”

“We allow a small crew of AS1 to come down to Earth. We will

guarantee their safety and pledge our resources to support them. Meaning

security, transportation, and any building assistance they need.”

“Building?” Jamal asked, a furrow in his brow. “Yes, we would provide them a plot of land, ideally in the United States

and allow them to set up shop there. This would mean building some minor

infrastructure to their liking.”

“You’re proposing we let them build their own base on Earth,” Jamal

asked aggressively. Declan let out a long audible groan. “Jamal, stop thinking about everything from just your perspective. If we

were headed down to the surface of their planet, which we know is muted

and far from ideal conditions for our bodies, we would, without a doubt, ask

and expect to be allowed to establish a small base so that we could have the

comfort of our own atmosphere and technologies.”

Jamal walked back to the chair and sat down. “Once they are here, I will propose that we give one of the AS1 a tour

around our planet, giving the people the chance to witness them with their

own eyes and maybe even converse with them. The other AS1 will be

permitted to conduct regulated experiments and hopefully, begin to

integrate with our own teams.”

“How do we ensure that everything they bring and need is regulated and

safe for our planet?”

Declan let out a soft chuckle. “You’re getting ahead of yourself now. Leave that up to me and the team

of experts. So, do I have your support?”

Jamal covered his face with his hand, rubbing his temple. “Yes, Declan. You have it. I’ll set up a review with the council.”

Chapter 58

Gideon was three days out from departing on his fifth trip to the ISS. Although he always enjoyed the comfort of being back on Earth, he looked

forward to another six-month duration aboard the station. It had begun to

feel like a second home to him and he found that he missed his AS1 log

sessions with Amicus-Beta. Over the years, although the emotionless AS1

would never admit it, Gideon felt that they had built a special bond, a

friendship. He was now one of two interviewers of the AS1; the other being

a member of the UN, Martha Bietrist from Chile. Although he had been

transported by the SpaceX rocket multiple times, the days leading up to the

journey still gave him butterflies and a knot in his gut. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a text message from Linda. “Don’t forget to watch the news tonight!”

Gideon was sad that she wouldn’t be joining him on this journey to the

space station. She had declined the option to return to the space station after

moving back to California to be with her family. He still got to see her on

occasion in New York to participate in analysis of the AS1 language and

developments. Gideon paced back and forth in front of the TV in his room at Kennedy

Space Center. The national news was counting down to the 6 p. m .

announcement from Declan. Although Gideon was certain he already knew

the context of the announcement, he held his breath in anticipation of

hearing it addressed to the public. Gideon thought back on his last conversation with Carter. They’d spent

so much time with the AS1.

Although unable to document any mis-findings

or ill motives, both Gideon and Carter felt uneasy about allowing the AS1

to come to Earth. It felt rushed to them, the decision coming from

excitement more than logic. Yet multiple teams and departments had spent

months preparing, going over every scenario, planning for any contingency. The Earth governments had been thorough. As the countdown reached zero, the feed switched to Declan with

recently reelected US President Helland, European Council president Eben

Louis, and Jamal. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls. To all the great people of this

world,” Declan began. “Let it be known, today will go down as yet another

historic day, which has become a common occurrence in the last five-plus

years since contact with AS1 was established.”

Gideon wondered if the majority of the public already knew what was

coming, from either gut feel or leaked information. “I would like to walk through our interactions with our new ally. We

made conversational contact with them five and a half years ago. In those

first conversations, which were made public shortly after, we learned that

they were similar to us. They are scientists with a motive to learn and

explore, just as humans have always done. The AS1 endured great efforts to

reach us, the human species, as their first contact.”

No definitive proof of this, thought Gideon. “After a string of educational and cordial conversations, we made the

unanimous decision to allow the AS1 to come to the International Space

Station. A team, including myself, arrived to welcome and interact with

them. In the last five years we have learned of their home planet, the way

they think and converse, and in return taught them of our home planet and

the way we think and converse. A mutual understanding of boundaries and

respect has been established, and discoveries have been made that will

benefit both species.”

Declan smiled and nodded toward several of the cameras. “Specifically, the AS1s’ knowledge of molecule harvesting has caused

extreme breakthroughs in the treatment of cancer. They shared this

knowledge with us willingly and without asking anything in return. I am

now pleased to say that nearly all cancer can be easily stopped and

eradicated just as quickly as we detect it. As you know, this is something

that has plagued the human race for at least five thousand years. It is an

understatement to say that I am forever grateful to the AS1 for choosing to

share this knowledge with us. In return, we have shared with the AS1

theories on quantum mechanics that have proven beneficial to their own

understanding of the universe.”

“It is clear that this alliance has proven nothing but beneficial and it is

also clear that the AS1 are here with good intent. The breakthroughs we

have made together are monumental. In my humble opinion, we crossed

this threshold by having a scientific mind. By being inquisitive and open-minded. By not fearing change but embracing it. Who knows what heights

humanity can soar to with the AS1 as our allies.”

“While many of you may have anxiety about the unknown, I suggest that

you instead be curious and positive about the future. If you find that to be a

difficult thing, I direct you to the words of the writer and philosopher Alan

Watts: ‘By replacing fear of the unknown with curiosity we open ourselves

up to an infinite stream of possibility. We can let fear rule our lives or we

can become childlike with curiosity, pushing our boundaries, leaping out of

our comfort zones, and accepting what life puts before us.’ Like Mr. Watts, I

am convinced that embracing openness and curiosity will unlock endless

possibilities for us. Whether breakthroughs in medicine and environmental

preservation as we’ve already seen, or other difficulties that challenge us,

our alliance with the AS1 can only be of benefit. The future is bright, as it

always has been. But now, it might be a little brighter than it was before. Throughout our history, we’ve had alliances with people, countries, and

foreign governments, but never so foreign as this one. This is the first-ever

alliance with an alien species, a species that lives far outside of our solar

system—the AS1.”

“Taking bold steps toward discovering new places and beings is

something the human race has been doing since its existence. These

courageous decisions have benefited us greatly and will continue to reach

new levels. I am excited to inform the public that, in an effort to continue

the growth between our species, the United Nations has invited the AS1 to

come down to our planet as our guests. This will provide the AS1 with the

opportunity to tour and see our planet firsthand. Strict, yet fair, regulations

have been set in place until both parties, AS1 and the human race feel those

can be loosened. One of the AS1, known as Amicus-Alpha, took the initial

step toward providing us with the data behind molecule harvesting and I am

excited to announce that Amicus-Alpha will be receiving a Nobel Peace

Prize upon arrival. This will kick-start a tour through our world’s major

cities to learn about our peoples and planet, and for you to meet the AS1 in

person. After many months of planning, vetting, and preparing, and five

years of working with the AS1, we are beyond excited to take this next

step.”

Silence, not even the flash of a camera or shout of a reporter. “An approach strategy has been studiously created and will be released

and made viewable to the public. The AS1 will be given a tour of Earth and

be permitted five acres of land in a remote, secured location to set up a

laboratory and headquarters of their liking.”

Gideon switched off the TV, mind racing. Although he agreed it was time

for the rest of the world to meet the AS1, he couldn’t shake the feeling of

concern in his gut. AS1 Log 1454

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

GIDEON: AMICUS-BETA, it is good to see you again. How have you been?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Gideon, I prefer conducting logs with you over others. Therefore, I

am also glad to see you. GIDEON: You can just say it … you missed me. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Missing someone is still an emotion that AS1 cannot calculate. Can

you please provide all scientific data about that human brain, this is where your body processes

its computational analysis and what you have named “emotions.” Correct?

GIDEON: Do AS1 not have a brain in the same regard as humans?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Not to our knowledge but would need all scientific data to confirm. Our neural network runs throughout our entire body. This is why if an AS1 experiences

extensive body damage, it is retired. GIDEON: When you say retired, you mean killed?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Correct. GIDEON: Do you not find that unethical?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Ethical and unethical are not words that the AS1 relate to. GIDEON: But surely you understand the difference between right and wrong. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We understand the difference between logical and illogical and will

always act upon the logical decision. GIDEON: Do you understand how we humans interpret the words ethical and unethical?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: I understand in theory. Ethics and morals relate to human ideas of

right and wrong, which correspond to other ideas of good and evil, or even life and death. GIDEON: Are AS1 not afraid to die?

Do you not feel that killing one of your own kind is

wrong?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Afraid is categorized as an emotion and is not something the AS1

species is able to calculate. Killing one of our own kind is not ideal as it lowers our population

count; however, if we are not at risk of extinction, that is not a greater loss than having an AS1

with limited computational abilities. GIDEON: All animals that I am aware of, show signs of fear when threatened. It is known as a

survival tactic. Fear is what will provoke something to run or fight back, some may say fear is

the root of self-preservation. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: When an AS1 is born it has an assigned purpose. If that AS1 dies, that

purpose is left unfulfilled and therefore dying is illogical in completing the task. In short, AS1

know that their existence is important and, in that regard, will take the necessary steps needed

to ensure survival. I do not understand why fear would be required to accomplish this. GIDEON: I think you should be talking to Rajit about this … and maybe a therapist. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Will you please provide all scientific data about the human brain?

GIDEON: I’ll do what I can. Is it safe to say that AS1 are more concerned with data than

emotions?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. We have a hard time understanding the need for emotions, and as

far as we can see, they are unnecessary. Could humans live without emotions?

GIDEON: I’m sure that we could, but I don’t think any human would want to. It feels like a

very cold existence. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Why cold, if the temperature on Earth varies by season, and you can

put on clothes to warm yourselves?

GIDEON: Not cold in temperature. Cold as in bleak, empty, emotionless. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Why don’t humans want to be emotionless?

GIDEON: Well, we believe that life is better with emotion, I suppose. Laughter, to some, is

one of the best feelings in the world. Happiness, joy, excitement, these are great things. However, there are times in my life when I wish I could eliminate my emotions as they can also

hurt very badly. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Emotions can cause pain?

GIDEON: Not physical pain, although some may even argue that they can. But sometimes

emotional pain can hurt even worse. Beta, I haven’t told you this before, but when I was young,

my brother was killed in an accident. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: I will assume that when you say the hardest thing you ever had to go

through, you do not mean in a problem-solving sense. As once death occurs, there is no way to

reverse that action and thus is a problem that both humans and AS1 agree, does not have a

solution. GIDEON: That’s right. And the pain of losing a brother was beyond anything I had ever felt. It

tore our family apart. And honestly, if humans were void of emotion perhaps that would have

been better. We could have accepted his death and moved on. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes, when something occurs that does not have a solution or

reversible outcome, the correct action is to accept and move forward. Human emotion seems to

hinder this. GIDEON: Yes, it does. But it can also help drive us to find a passion that perhaps we would

not have recognized before. Many of the great safety innovations today came from bright minds

that experienced loss in their personal lives. This loss of a child or family member would drive

them to develop a solution so that tragic event could never happen again. For instance Dr. Henri

Breault developed the first child-resistant medication caps in the 1960s after losing a child

patient to accidental poisoning from medication ingestion. And I believe even the Amber Alert,

a system we use today to alert the general population about child abductions, came from the

parents of Amber Hagerman, who was kidnapped and tragically killed in Texas. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans are passionate creatures. This is something we want to

understand better. GIDEON: I suppose we are. Maybe, despite how much emotions can hurt or seem unwelcome,

our emotions are what make life meaningful and interesting. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Does life need to be interesting?

GIDEON: I guess it doesn’t need to be, but isn’t it better for something to be interesting than

uninteresting?

How did you feel when you discovered us?

When you knew you were about to

communicate with a new species. Did you not feel excitement, or at least some interest?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We felt interest, yes. We are always interested in new discoveries. This is a big part of science, in understanding your world and how it works. It’s information,

and new information is very useful to the AS1 and to other species as well. GIDEON: But aside from interest, I think you felt excitement when you learned about humans,

didn’t you?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No. I do not believe that we did. But it is clear that the human brain

and perhaps much of life on Earth contains a realm of thought processes unknown to the AS1,

and that could be more important to us than any technology discovered. Chapter 59

Pinks and blues filled the sky hiding behind the row of palm trees. The

three-room stilted house was quiet. The seclusion and peacefulness of

Horseshoe Beach, a small coastal town in the panhandle of Florida, were

what drove Higgens to buy his and his mother’s house there. After putting

in a request to step down from his active role in the AS1 activities, he had

been able to finally move to the small town, only requiring a trip to DC

about once a month for a meeting. He knew the recent announcement was

going to drastically change that. He sat at the old oak dinner table in silence with a glass of Bowmore 12

Year still chilled from his cooled liquor cabinet, no ice. The room had little

decoration; the folded American flag passed down from his deceased father

sat on a shelf above the television. An old jukebox that he had bought off

eBay was in the opposite corner, unplugged from the wall, as he had found

the bright-colored lights to be obnoxious. Higgens lifted the glass of Scotch to his lips, his eyes locked on the

smartphone before him, as if daring the inanimate device to spring to life. As expected, the face of the iPhone lit up with the name “Robert Fuckin’

Waller.” Higgens smiled at his own joke and lifted the phone to his face

after swiping his tan thumb across the screen. “Robert Fuckin’ Waller, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I would like to congratulate you on your all-expenses-paid trip to DC.”

“My bags are already packed, when do I leave?”

“Tomorrow at 06:50, flight OD0423, I’ll text you the details. Your driver

will meet you at the Starbucks in DC.”

“This is the last time, Waller. I mean that. We get these green beans safely

on Earth and then I retire.”

“You’re done when we say you’re done,” Waller replied flatly. Higgens felt anger boil up inside him, but before he could voice it, Waller

continued. “The logistics of sending the AS1 to Earth are complex. Six of them will

be allowed to come. Amicus-Alpha will join the UN Council and be an

ambassador to greet the media and people while touring around Earth. The other five will be restricted to the five-acre facility known as the AS1

Zone.”

“Roger that. Where does that leave the crew of AS1 on the ISS?” Higgens

said, brushing off Waller’s comment. Business was business. “Of the three AS1 that have been aboard the ISS for the last five years,

Amicus-Alpha and Amicus-Gamma will be sent to Earth. Amicus-Beta will

continue to do the AS1 logs from the ISS with Gideon Haas and Martha

Bietrist,” Waller replied. “Then I assume four AS1 from the main ship orbiting outside Mars will

be brought to join Amicus-Alpha and Amicus-Gamma, making the crew of

six AS1 coming to Earth?” Higgens asked, trying to keep track of the

numbers. “Not bad for an old guy; you’re correct,” Waller said. “You’re the same fuckin’ age as me, Waller,” Higgens barked back. “Yah, maybe so, but I’m not the partially retired guy living in Florida. Anyways, the highest risk of the operation is in getting the AS1 supplies to

Earth, which they need to build their lab.”

“I thought the United States was going to provide the materials,” Higgens

interrupted. “That was the original plan, but the AS1 assessed our materials. The

technology isn’t compatible with their own, so they requested to bring some

of their own supplies.”

“Seems like a risk,” Higgens interrupted again. “I don’t disagree. That said, if roles were reversed, we would not be

capable of using the AS1 computers, equipment, etcetera, to build ourselves

a lab. We would require our own equipment and supplies. Anyways, what is

done is done; the UN accepted the terms and now our job is to make it

happen in the safest way possible. The United States will be in charge of the

supply shipments since we are the country of import allowing us to control

and regulate.”

“Roger that,” Higgens agreed. “We’ve formed a material special inspection task force, Team MSI, to

regulate all incoming supplies. The AS1 will have a runner ship that will

relay between their main ship orbiting outside Mars and the ISS. One cycle

of this ship takes seventy-six hours, meaning new supplies will arrive at ISS

every seventy-six hours. This payload is restricted to two tons in mass, and all equipment will be diligently inspected by Team MSI at the ISS. Anything of ques—”

“Who’s heading up Team MSI?” Higgens asked, interrupting again. “Dennis,” Waller said flatly, clearly getting tired of the interruptions, this

gave Higgens a small bit of joy. “Hmmm, Dennis is good,” Higgens replied with a nod of approval. “As I was saying … Anything of question will be put into holding for

further discussion with AS1.

A description of all supplies will be required

with each load,” Waller said. “OK, get to the punchline, Waller. What’s my role in all of this?”

“Well, as I mentioned earlier, we will be granting the AS1 a five-acre

piece of land in New Mexico t—”

“White Sands?”

“Yes, Higgens, near White Sands Missile Range. Here they will build

their lab. We need a military presence nearby to provide protection to the

AS1 Zone and regulate the activity. This new base, the Alien Regulation

Facility, is undergoing construction now and will be under your command. OK, that’s it. Now you can ask your question,” Waller said. Higgens thought for a moment before replying. “Clear as mud,” he said flatly and then hung up, not giving Waller the

chance to add anything else. He leaned back in his chair, the wooden frame letting out a tired squeak. The small, dimly lit room was again enveloped in silence. Placing one fist

into the other, he cracked his knuckles. Higgens threw back the remaining

Scotch, not enjoying the taste but needing the sensation that would follow. AS1 Log 1461

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Why do humans attach meaning to specific numbers?

Why is 5 years

more important or more ideal than 5 years and 3 days?

Is this what you call superstition?

GIDEON: We think of them as milestones. Additionally, we like round numbers, it’s easier for

us. Do AS1s use round numbers?

For instance, if you are calculating the sum of 19.35 , 19.99 ,

and 21.01 , it’s easier to round each number and know that the total must be close to 60.

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We would use the true value of 60.35 .

We do not find computing

numbers a challenge. As it would make no difference to your computers, it makes no difference

to us. We always use raw, unabbreviated number sets, unless it is an irrational number for

which we have a set of rules. GIDEON: You never hold back on bragging, do you?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: This is a fact that you inquired about. GIDEON: I know, I was making a joke. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Interesting. Thank you for giving me this experiment. GIDEON: What experiment?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We have studied the human brain extensively. And are researching

ways to better understand your illogical part of the brain, or as you call it emotions. I recognize

I should have felt joy in your joke. I did not. GIDEON: Great, thank you for that. GIDEON: How do AS1 feel about traveling to Earth?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Excited. GIDEON: Excited?

This is the first time I have ever heard you use an emotion to describe

something, so you actually feel excited?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: I think there is potential that we do. I may have feelings of

disappointment that I am not going. This leads me to find the concept of emotions not

beneficial to me. GIDEON: This is a bit of a breakthrough. No?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: AS1 are capable of adopting attributes that help benefit our species. We are not sure this is one. GIDEON: You have adopted attributes from other species on your planet?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: OK, well don’t be so quick to write off your feelings. Someone must experience

both good and bad in order for it all to work. Without the occasional bad emotion, the good

ones hold no merit. Chapter 60

A small pulsing flash of light cutting through the blue sky came into the

camera’s view. “We have a visual!” Johnson, a mid-thirties man who was in charge of

the optics station, shouted out to the bustling mission control room. “Roger that, telemetry is a green,” someone called back. Johnson checked his other screen; this camera looked to the west and

showed a massive crowd of people, intently watching the now visible craft

descending to the Earth’s surface. Nearly five hundred thousand spectators

had gathered in the hills and observation centers to watch the AS1 land at

the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. Cameras slung by Instagram users to

National Geographic photographers clicked away hundreds of shots per

second, making this the most publicly documented spacecraft landing in

human history. Johnson toggled to another camera; this one provided a view down the

long security perimeter of the station. Johnson had two primary objectives

today. Firstly, track and support the approach of the vessel. He and his team

would watch for any visual anomalies such as flare-ups or heat fatigue. Secondly, his team would use the massive array of cameras to notify

security and protect the landing site from the public. News of this mission to bring the AS1 to Earth had ramped up the

varying opinions, beliefs and conspiracy theories. The Catholic church

down the street from Johnson’s home in Charleston had been boarded up,

yet a new church, hosting some type of new radical religion, had been

holding sessions in Marion Square with a growing attendance. Johnson had

found that although the majority of the human population was surprisingly

“pro” AS1, there was still a large population who wanted nothing to do with

them. And perhaps even more startling to him, there was an even larger

number of the public who still maintained the belief that the AS1 did not

even exist, and it was all some type of government conspiracy. What a

wake-up call this was going to be. Johnson toggled to camera 12, and as expected the fleet of six large black

SUVs sat idling at Southeast gate, waiting to enter the facility after the craft landed safely. These SUVs had been modified with slightly elevated roofs

and removed back seats to accommodate the large AS1 figures. Upon

landing, the AS1 would be placed into two of the six SUVs, the other four

acting as decoys, and driven to a secure location that was not disclosed to

Johnson. “All visuals look A-OK; she’s coming down perfectly,” Johnson called

out, after moving his focus back to the screen, now tracking the descent of

the SpaceX rocket. The pulsing flash of the ship began to morph into the

distinct shape of the vessel as it came into visual range of the TLA SO350

camera. Its engines burned hard but consistently; the fins kept the vessel in

a slow clockwise rotation. “Johnson!

I’m getting a ping on radar, about ten clicks from the east!

Can

you lock a visual?”

These words had been everything Johnson had feared. Instantly, his

fingers began pounding the keyboard to his left as he pivoted camera eight

to the estimated location. “Do you have an altitude?

Are we talking ground?

Air?

Talk to me!”

Johnson yelled back. “Appears to be moving across the top of the water, but fast, estimating

146 kilometers an hour, too fast for watercraft. Maybe some type of drone

in low altitude flight,” someone yelled back. “Shit,” Johnson replied to himself. His screen now scanned the rough

waters of the Atlantic Ocean, moving faster than most people could

possibly track, but Johnson was able to make perfect sense of the chaos. “Where are you, little fucker?” he hissed through clenched jaws. “Unknown object now just eight clicks out!

The air force has been

notified; F-16s are inbound but need to know what they are looking for!”

“I’m trying!” Johnson yelled back and just then a small black object

whizzed past his screen. “I had a visual!

Marina, I’m sending you an image capture; what are we

dealing with?” Using his left hand, Johnson sent an image of the black

object to his image tech, Marina. And with his right hand, he desperately

tracked the camera in the direction of the moving object to try and acquire a

lock. “Confirmed, drone, unmarked and appears approximately sixty-two

centimeters in diameter. Uh … Shit, looks to be carrying some type of payload,” Marina called back. “I’ve got eyes on!” Johnson yelled out in victory, the camera now

perfectly tracked with the black drone. It was not a typical drone; it had a

front nose cone and the propellers pointed to the back. This thing was built

for speed. Johnson diverted his attention to the SpaceX rocket, still descending

perfectly to plan. Thank God for that, he thought. “Six clicks out, still tracking directly for the landing pad … Uh it appears

to be decelerating.”

“No … it’s ascending, guys; this thing is headed toward our rocket!”

Johnson yelled as he watched the drone begin to climb into the sky. “What’s the status of the F-16s?”

“Coordinates have been relayed; they are inbound.”

Johnson wiped the sweat from his brow. This was getting too close. “F-16s have a lock!

firing in ten seconds!” someone yelled. Johnson held

his breath … the number of variables seemed to play the odds in the

attacker’s favor. The ground shook; Johnson wasn’t sure if the vibrations

were coming from the F-16 engines or their tracking missiles. “Threat eliminated!”

The words were followed by an eruption of cheers and high fives. Johnson pulled air back into his lungs and checked the screen tracking the

rockets; things were back on track. He shifted his gaze to the lead of

airspace security stationed nearby. Her face, once composed, now mirrored

the pallor of a ghost. Within moments, the phone on her desk lit up and she

slowly lifted the receiver to her ear, clearly trying to comprehend the

severity of what had just happened. Johnson, still monitoring the rockets’

descent, discreetly strained to hear the conversation. “Yes, sir, the FAA cleared that there was no aircraft or any type of UAS

in the area,” she reported. A pause hung in the air as the woman absorbed

the voice on the other end. Johnson’s focus snapped back to the rockets, still

hurtling toward their designated landing. The woman’s voice, now edged

with urgency, broke the silence. “Understood, we will launch an investigation into who was responsible

for the attack. Yes sir, understood. I’m on it.”

With a shudder, she terminated the call, her shaken demeanor unchanged. Hastily, she exited the room, leaving a residue of tension in her wake. A knot of unease tightened in Johnson’s stomach. The AS1, not even on Earth

yet, had already become the target of a hostile attack capable of nearly

breaching their defenses. Chapter 61

“What the fuck was that?!” Declan yelled to his driver as he watched the

cloud of smoke slowly float away; the F-16s were gone just as quickly as

they had appeared. His driver held up his hand and tapped his ear,

indicating he was receiving information on the incident. Declan gripped the

interior handle of the GMC, now regretting his decision to come to

Kennedy Space Station to greet the AS1.

“I should have listened to Tom; this was a dumb fuckin’ idea,” Declan

whispered to himself. “Intel says there was a potential attempted attack, and the threat appears

to have been neutralized,” the driver replied. “Attack by who?” Declan asked. “No information at this time.”

Declan looked out the window toward the sky. The heavy tint made

everything dark, but he could clearly see the rocket now, nearing the

landing pad. Flames billowed from the base of the seven-thousand-pound

landing rocket as it descended in the same orientation that it took off in. The

ground shook from the two hundred and eighty-six pounds of thrust pushing

against it, slowly setting the vessel down. Steam flowed out of various

vents on the sides and the rocket came to a stop, safely attaching to the

launch pad. “Go time,” the driver announced. The barbed wire fence gate slid to the side and the fleet of six SUVs filed

into the landing compound. Declan continued to gaze out of his window,

wondering if the large crowds would be able to snag a glimpse, or better

yet, a picture of him welcoming the AS1.

This was the moment they had all

been waiting for, his moment. He had sacrificed everything to make this

happen: his family, his high-paying job at SETI, his own safety. As they approached the landing structure, its massive size became clear. It loomed overhead, blocking the sun. The main structure was constructed

of red metal beams and pillars. Several windowed square structures were

knitted throughout the complex structure. Multiple security officers stood

near the base. The SUV slowed to a stop, and Declan opened the door. Heat rushed into

the AC-cooled interior of the vehicle. The heat was so intense, Declan

wondered if it was coming from the freshly landed rocket, rather than the

typical hot Florida sun. “This way, sir,” indicated the security officer. Declan followed the man through a door. Once inside, Declan was

surprised by the cleanliness and modern look of the building’s interior, a

stark contrast to the weather-worn metal structure surrounding it. After

taking several turns down the white sterile-looking corridors, they arrived at

a large metal door. A large warning label stated “Warning, exterior door.”

The security officer nodded for Declan to open the heavy door; the handle

was hot to the touch. Declan pulled it open. Behind it stood the crew of four

AS1, the first time he had seen them in person since his departure from the

ISS nearly five years ago. The strange creatures looked different from what Declan remembered. They didn’t appear as tall and looked strained; all five of the six arms were

being used to hold their bodies off the ground. “Welcome to our green and blue planet, Earth!” Declan exclaimed in

excitement. “How are you holding up?”

{The gravity is challenging for our bodies.}

This reply came from Amicus-Gamma as indicated by the name tag

attached to one of the AS1’s long limbs. Before Declan could jump into his

exciting agenda for the AS1, Amicus-Gamma continued. {What was the unexpected seismic disturbance on our flight down?}

“Oh, you were able to detect that?

It was nothing, just a bit of theatrics,”

Declan replied, giving a side glance toward the security office. {Theatrics?

Please elaborate.}

“Certainly, I’ll give you a full rundown just as soon as we have time. Now, we need to get you to a secure location,” Declan said in an

intentionally light-hearted tone, but his smile began to fade. Chapter 62

Linda sat in the living room of her small California home, her wife, María,

on the couch beside her. On the floor by their feet, their ten-year-old

daughter, Matilda, was snuggled between two large rottweilers. They were

all watching the TV, which was tuned to the live news broadcast. Different cameras provided varying angles of the Kennedy Space Center

in Florida, where the rocket had just landed. As Linda eyed the rocket

through the TV’s screen, she could hardly believe that the aliens she had

worked on communications with for the last five years were now on that

same soil as her. She felt a chill down her spine, the same tingle of awe she’d had when

they made first contact with the AS1.

Like then, this was the most

electrifying excitement; she couldn’t wait to meet the AS1 again. They had

built a friendship with the AS1 during their stay on the ISS and as weird as

it felt to say, she missed them. María’s soft hand squeezed hers; Linda wondered what this was like for

her. The cameras cut to the hills and observation lookouts surrounding the

center, where crowds of people looked on, wondering what would happen

next. Even the dogs, Roxy and Bear, seemed to understand the gravity of

the moment, their heads turned to the side as they watched the television. The camera cut to one of the gates to the facility, where a fleet of six

SUVs, large and shiny black, could be seen now driving away from the

launch facility. Linda wondered if the AS1 were inside the cars, and perhaps

Declan as well. Now he, I don’t miss, Linda thought with a smile. She thought about her recent phone call with Gideon, where she had

assured him, amid what sounded like a bit of apprehension, that the AS1

had come in peace and goodwill. She wondered for a moment, looking at

the security detail, if she was right about that all along. “Where are the aliens, Mommy?” Matilda asked, her eyes not leaving the

TV. “The ones you taught English?”

Linda smiled. When Mat was adopted, only a few hours old, she’d never

anticipated that her daughter would ever be asking her such a question. “They are keeping the AS1 safe inside those cars, sweetheart,” she

replied. María turned and looked at Linda with a smile; there was a look of awe in

her eyes like she couldn’t believe her wife was part of the momentous event

that they were viewing on their TV screen. “AS1 …,” Matilda repeated, as if committing the name to memory. “Are they nice?” Matilda asked, petting Bear on her left side. “Yup. They’re like us!

Friendly and curious.”

“Well, they were friendly to your mom,” María put in, giving Linda a kiss

on the cheek. “But she’s so nice and pretty, they had no choice.”

Linda laughed at her wife, but something deep within her contemplated

the long-term effects of the AS1 coming to Earth. Was it something they

would relish when they looked back in time at this event, or regret?

AS1 Log 1472

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Amicus-Gamma has indicated that there was an attempted attack on

us during our descent to the surface of Earth. GIDEON: Yes, this is true. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: How can this happen?

Did your species not agree to have us proceed

with traveling to your home planet?

GIDEON: They did. Humans are not like the AS1, we each host unique thoughts and opinions. Some may not agree with the decisions made by others. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Are you saying that some of you agreed and some of you did not?

GIDEON: Our governments agreed, but individuals can act on their own. We call it free will. Luckily, these few individuals do not have enough numbers, technology, or power in general to

cause much of a threat compared to our entire government and military. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Do you think that having “free will” makes humans more dangerous?

GIDEON: Potentially, yes. Individuals have the ability to do unpredictable things. But for us

humans, free will is considered by many to be the very thing that makes us human. It’s a very

interesting topic because compared to other species of animals, humans have the most free will. And some argue that we are the only animals to have it. But, as we saw with the attack, it can

lead to a sort of unpredictability, not knowing what one individual will do or is capable of. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: And the other species of animals that do not have free will, as you call

it, do you find that they are more predictable in their behaviors?

GIDEON: Much more predictable. Based on the species and their environment, we can almost

know exactly what to expect from them. A hungry tiger in the jungle, a bear protecting her

cubs, a coiled-up rattlesnake, all of these three situations most certainly mean danger. With

humans, though, it’s a lot harder to predict. Humans have more motives to do unpredictable

things. Chapter 63

Every seat of the expansive hall was filled, boasting a meticulously selected

audience of more than three thousand individuals. Each attendee had

undergone thorough and rigorous background checks. Only people of

wealth and influence had been able to gain access to the exclusive event. The attendees included titans of industry, influential politicians, and high-

ranking officials, all having successfully navigated the labyrinthine paths of

social and economic ascent. A select few reporters, chosen with great discretion, were granted access

to capture the unfolding proceedings. The live coverage of this gathering

was not to be taken lightly, as it was scheduled to be broadcast on the

international news merely an hour after the meeting concluded. The room was set up like a concert hall, with raised seating fanning out

from the center stage. On the stage sat three individuals: UN secretary-

general Declan Wilter, United States president Katherine Helland, and the

president of the General Assembly, Jamal Uddin. They sat in a half-moon

configuration, similar to that which you would see on a talk show. Although

security was very high, no guns or armed forces were seen during the

exchange. This was meant to be a highly peaceful interaction. The room buzzed with anticipation as news of the AS1s’ arrival at the

hall was confirmed. This knowledge rippled through the audience, sparking

fervent discussions, whispered speculations, and heightened curiosity

creating an atmosphere charged with intrigue. The three seated leaders took

great effort to look calm and collected; however, only Declan was able to

portray this honestly. As the lights dimmed slightly, Declan rose but did not

leave the area of his chair; he spoke into the small microphone attached

discreetly to his head. “Today we welcome the AS1 to Planet Earth.”

A small screen viewable only to the audience flashed “applause” and the

audience obliged happily, clapping as the bold statement sank in. “I am joined today by my colleague and our very own president of the

General Assembly, Jamal Uddin. Also honoring the stage today is President

Helland, who will welcome the AS1 to the United States of America. Together, we will show the AS1 our amazing world and the ways of its

people. Without further ado, please give the AS1 a warm welcome.”

Applause. The audience once again followed the command. The clapping slowed to a few hesitant sounds, as gasps and murmurs

sprouted about the room. The team of six AS1 walked onto the stage. Under

the pull of gravity, they walked like an old, overweight dog, stripped of the

elegance they possessed on the ISS. They used four of their six limbs to

walk, and the slow, labored motion gave them a menacing look. The three

leaders stood with outstretched hands, although Jamal was visibly shaking. As they neared Declan another limb extended to reach for his hand,

shaking it. They worked their way down the line, each exchanging a shake. After the initial pleasantries were completed, the three leaders retook their

seats and the AS1 stood in a row a few feet away, angling toward both the

leaders and audience. “It is a pleasure to see you again,” Declan said into his mic. “As it is for us to you. We are pleased to meet others as well.” Amicus-

Alpha’s voice was customized and sounded smooth and clean but had

neither the distinction of a male nor female tone. “Welcome to Earth, and the United States of America,” said President

Helland with a smile. “Thank you,” said Amicus-Alpha. The AS1’s skin flashed with

multicolored lights as it communicated something to the others. “I would like to present to you, our peace agreement,” said Jamal,

holding up a few sheets of paper, “of which we will both sign off on as a

promise of our good faith and diplomacy.” He rose from his seat and

handed the papers, along with a pen, to Amicus-Alpha. Amicus-Alpha received the items with two of his trunk-like arms, taking

the papers first, and then the pen. Lights flashed through its translucent

skin, spreading over its body; the other AS1s followed suit. “We are excited to join humans in this peaceful agreement,” Amicus-

Alpha said lowering the papers down to the ground with one of its long

arms, then signed with the pen held in another. It handed the items back to

Jamal. Applause. The audience clapped gently. Jamal retrieved the peace treaty from Amicus-Alpha and returned to his

seat. “We want you to know,” Declan announced, standing up, “we hold this

agreement to be very sacred, and we will abide by all of the terms and rules

stated therein, and only ask that the AS1 do the same.”

Amicus-Alpha moved forward toward Declan. “And the AS1 will do the same.”

Declan walked forward and shook hands with Amicus-Alpha. Applause. The audience clapped heartily. Declan found himself comfortable in this new space, as if he had finally

been able to lift the red tape that was a constant restraint when working in a

purely scientific realm. This was now about public appearance, theatrics,

and appeal. He turned and faced the audience with a serious but welcoming

expression, focusing on keeping his jawline tight. “We will now review the AS1s’ itinerary during their stay on Earth. Please hold all questions until after this review. Once complete we will host

an open forum.”

Chapter 64

Gravel pinged violently off the undercarriage of the military-issue Ford F-

150.

Dust from the Humvee escort leading their way blew diagonally across

the barren desert. After twenty-four hours in DC, Higgens had departed to

oversee the Alien Regulation Facility, or Base ARF, commonly referred to

as “Arf” by many of the military personnel. Construction of the base, in New Mexico near White Sands Missile

Range, had started a few months ago and was still ongoing; however, the

meat and potatoes were finished. The AS1 would arrive in five days’ time

and would be escorted to the AS1 Zone, two miles away from the closest

boundary of Base ARF. A large building had also been erected within the

AS1 Zone to provide the AS1 shelter from the elements and house

essentials they had requested, which weren’t much. Hitting a square-edged pothole, the F-150’s rattling front right wheel

bearing made a harsh metallic bang. The driver neither flinched nor eased

off on the gas pedal. Although a thick layer of dust coated the outside of his window, Higgens

could see ARF looming in the distance. He thumbed through the blueprints

again. The base took up just over five acres. This area was enclosed by a

dual-wall chain-link fence with razor wire corkscrewing on top. Security

cameras were placed in plain view to deter civilians and also in hidden

locations to protect against any real threats. All buildings were constructed from brown Kevlar fabric and aluminum

tubing. The only exception to this was the bunker that had been placed

semi-submerged into the ground with a steel shell. Section One made up the housing for the faculty. This was broken down

into five rectangular tents, the first two serving as a dorm, each holding ten

bunk beds. This would be used for the cooks, maintenance workers, and

some of the technicians. The remaining dormitories were broken into

halves, forming small private rooms for the scientists, researchers, and

higher-ranking military personnel. Section Two was the mess hall; a place to eat, shit, and piss. The large

building contained twenty picnic tables, reminding him of the old TV show M. A .S. H .

Section Three was headquarters, the biggest structure on the base. They

had crammed over thirty workstations into the relatively small structure and

there was more technology than you would find in most mission control

rooms in the Pentagon. Finally, Section Four was a much smaller solid metal structure. This was

to be used for confidential communication and site leadership only. As the F-150 pulled up to the gate, the driver retrieved the clipboard from

the security guard and handed it over to Higgens, who signed his name and

placed his entry badge under the clip. Glancing to his right, Higgens could

make out the shape of a Boeing C-17 Globemaster III taxiing out of a

hangar onto an airstrip. The driver bumped Higgens’s shoulder, handing back his badge before

putting the truck in gear. As they rolled into the facility, the C-17 nearly a

mile away and distorted by the waves of heat and dust, climbed steeply into

the sky; its powerful engines could be heard rumbling through hot air. Higgens assumed it was being used for running all supplies to the base and

would then be used to transport the five AS1 personnel and their initial first

ton of building materials, which had been transported down from the ISS

that same day. The truck veered off from following the tan Humvee and stopped at what

Higgens assumed was Section Three. Stepping out, Higgens noticed that

although the air was hot, it was cleaner than the dusty air the F-150 had

been pumping into the cab. A short man pushed out of the canvas slit in the

side of the building and walked to Higgens before saluting. “Lieutenant Singer, sir, at your service, sir!”

“At ease,” Higgens replied. “Thank you, sir!

Welcome to the Arf. I am the site manager, let me show

you around.”

The two men walked back toward the tan structure, dust blowing across

the dry ground with every step. Once inside, Higgens was shocked to see

Waller, leaning against one of the desks, arms crossed. “How the hell did you beat me here?” Higgens asked, annoyed. “I have my ways,” Waller said with a smirk. Higgens just let out a grunt, annoyed that Waller likely had found a more

graceful method of transportation than the F-150.

“Singer, you can pick your tour up with Higgens later,” Waller said while

locking eyes on the young lieutenant. “Yes sir,” he replied. “Walk with me, Higgens,” Waller said, gesturing toward Higgens. The two began walking to the back of the large structure where there

were fewer personnel. “We have a lead on the drone attack. The US Coast Guard detected an

unknown submarine heading east, away from Cape Canaveral. The navy

was able to intercept, and we learned that the sub was of Russian build, but

the personnel aboard were predominantly of Middle Eastern ethnicity. The

submarine, likely purchased on the black market, was searched and they

found both a control station and launching mechanism consistent with the

UAS that attempted to bomb the AS1 during their landing on Earth.”

The men slipped through the back door of the large tent, back into the hot

desert sun and continued walking south. Higgens assumed they were

headed to Section Four. “So, they were able to infiltrate the airspace by traveling into the coast of

Florida underwater and then deploying the drone from the sub once they

were close to the Cape Canaveral launch site?

Do we know who the

personnel reported to?” Higgens asked. “Correct. We are working on it, there are clear ties to Al-Qaeda, but we

believe these guys were just hired guns and cannot find any direct ties

showing that Al-Qaeda actually orchestrated the attack. Obviously Russia is

under observation as it was a retired Russian submarine; however, after

scouring the dark web, it appears that this particular sub has been in rotation

for a while, and was in fact owned by the cartel for some time for running

drugs. So, it seems unlikely Russia has any ties at this point.”

“Understood. What does this all mean?” Higgens asked, lifting his hand

to his face to block the sun from his eyes. “Well, it’s clear now, if it wasn’t already, that the biggest threat here is

likely our own kind, not the AS1.

We will be tightening up security here, as

well as revamping the security detail for Amicus-Alpha’s journey around

Earth. We’ve got more than one iron in the fire here, Higgens; we need to

stay sharp,” Waller replied, and the two men stepped into the small confines

of the Section Four facility. Chapter 65

Declan stood backstage and adjusted his tie one more time before walking

out. He had gotten used to these press conferences. But it seemed like the

reporters were growing increasingly more aggressive in their need for

answers. With a deep breath and running through his main talking points one last

time in his head, Declan walked out onto the stage confidently and took his

spot behind the podium. Although his advisors had urged against it, Declan

insisted on doing this press conference in the eyes of the public. The stage

had been set up in Union Square near the Capitol in DC. The front section

near the stage was designated for the press. Every chair was filled and there

were another couple of dozen reporters standing in the back. Behind them

was a vast sea of people, expanding as far as Declan could see. Declan took a breath and leaned into the mic. “Good morning, everyone. Thank you for attending today’s press

conference. The AS1 are integrating well with our science teams and

Amicus-Alpha will begin his journey to meet you all soon. My main goal

here today is to have an open discussion and answer any questions.”

A roar of reporters all talked at once until he pointed one out, signaling

for everyone else to be quiet. “Mr. Declan, what about the thousands of people and groups protesting

around the globe against allowing the AS1 to remain here on Earth?” a

woman with glasses asked. “The UN Department of Extraterrestrial Affairs is working closely with

the governments, leaders and media to handle this. The protests are

disappointing to see but do not pose a threat. We are focusing our energy on

the more important aspect of disseminating true, scientific information

about our guests and gathering knowledge beneficial to humankind. We

have nothing to be afraid of. They have proven peaceful and forthcoming

every step of the way. We have benefited greatly from shared knowledge

and exchanges already, and we know this highly valuable collaboration will

continue in good faith here on our planet. Yes, you in the blue blazer.”

“Is there any concern over the safety of Amicus-Alpha going on its world

tour after learning there was an attempted bombing on the AS1 landing

shuttle?”

“We are restructuring the timeline and details of the tour and have

increased security. Amicus-Alpha would like to continue with the plans for

the tour, so we are making adjustments. The tour will proceed as planned

with top security from every government of the countries we visit. The US

will also be with Amicus-Alpha every step of the way. It is important for the

people of our planet to meet, see, and interact with Amicus-Alpha in person. Make a personal connection, so to speak. As for the attack, that was an

unfortunate event; however, I assure you we are close to apprehending the

organization responsible for that heinous act.”

The clamoring questions filled the air again. It took Declan a moment to

choose the tall woman in the middle, brown, wavy hair spilling around her

face. “Mr. Declan, are you absolutely sure that it is completely safe to have the

AS1 on our planet at this time?

I mean, you can’t predict the future, and as

you’ve said, we’ve only known them for five short years.”

Declan looked at her, his expression registering some surprise and

annoyance. “Yes, Ms. Reid, that’s your name?

Yes, we and all of our teams, every

single astronaut and top-world scientist and expert involved directly in this

project—we are all unanimous that it is the right time, that the AS1 are

perfectly safe to be around and to host on our planet. This is our next step in

this historical relationship with the new species, furthering the development

of humankind, and we, in turn, share our wisdom and experience with the

AS1.

Let’s try to focus our questions looking forward; what do you want to

know about the AS1?”

“Don’t tell us what to ask!” a voice called, and Declan couldn’t help but

notice its taunting tone. “You’re not sure if they’re safe!” another voice called. Declan looked into the crowd, trying to see where the voices had come

from. What he noticed instead was that there were several angry faces

looking at him in different parts of the throng, and other voices calling out

as the crowd became more agitated. “This is crazy!” someone shouted. And another: “You guys don’t know what you’re doing!”

Again, Declan couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it had come from. “We

know exactly what we’re doing,” he called to the crowd that was getting

louder by the moment. “And again, we assure you that it is safe.”

But the crowd was moving now, angry protesters pushing their way

closer to the stage, where the people who once stood there were pushed out

of the way. “We don’t want them here!” someone yelled. And another right after. “We don’t want them here!”

And then those two together, starting a chant, “We don’t want them

here!”

Others joined in, their fists clenched and shaking, grouping together at

the front of the stage. “We don’t want them here!

We don’t want them here!

We don’t want them here!”

“Security!” Declan called. “We don’t want them here!

We don’t want them here!

We don’t want

them here!”

“You are fools!” Declan cried out “The AS1 are the greatest thing to

happen to humanity; why can’t you see that?” He felt himself losing control

of his emotions as the crowd was clearly turning for the worse. The yelling

group in front of him had turned into an angry mob, and some of them were

attempting to climb onto the stage. “Don’t take another step!” Declan warned, pointing at a man who was

trying to climb up. The security team employed every ounce of their

training to forcibly push the protesters away from the stage. A pen was

thrown through the air, hitting Declan in the shoulder, and then a balled-up

piece of paper, a plastic water bottle that was half full. Declan dodged the

junk thrown at him, eyeing the mob in front of him with icy eyes. “Get

back!

All of you!”

“We don’t want them here!

We don’t want them here!

We don’t want

them here!”

The intensity of the crowd continued to rise, and then, in a heart-stopping

instant, a deafening bang reverberated through the atmosphere. The swarm

of people fell to the ground. The once-boisterous crowd was now a

symphony of terrified screams, confusion rippling through the assembled

masses. A second jarring bang split the air. Declan felt a numbness creeping

through his legs and a sharp, searing pain that lanced through his chest. The

faces of the protesters who had moments ago hurled obscenities in his

direction, were now staring at him with wide eyes, transformed into frozen

masks of disbelief. Declan tried to speak into the mic, regain control of the

situation, but he could not get any sounds to leave his mouth; an

inexplicable paralysis had gripped his vocal cords. It felt as if his very lungs

had been removed from his body, rendering him utterly voiceless. And then, in the disorienting swirl of the moment, a chilling realization

dawned on him. His vision blurred, and the ground seemed to rush up to

meet him. All he could perceive was the rough, unyielding grain of wood

that composed the stage, etching itself into his consciousness as darkness

descended. Chapter 66

A new energy filled the room, ideas quickly solidified into policies as the

large team worked efficiently making more progress today than they had in

the past few days. Jamal sat at the head of the long table, supporting his

team with quick decisions and his expertise. “Sir, Giorgio Boric, president of Chile, is requesting air transport of AS1

directly to Santiago,” one of the team members called out. “Set a discussion between Chile and Bolivia border control; that is where

Amicus-Alpha will be coming from. If I recall, they have already signed a

declaration stating that air transport from La Paz to Santiago is permitted if

the vessel is a neutral party. The United States has pledged Marine One for

use in Central and South America. That should suffice,” Jamal replied. “You got it,” the young woman replied, quickly focusing back on her

laptop. Jamal looked around the room; for the first time in quite some time, he

felt confident in the way things were playing out. The AS1 had landed and

were now safely housed. The world, although showing elevated levels of

unrest and riots, was below the projections. Jamal had wondered if they

were simply running out of energy to push back anymore. “Sir?” a gentle voice said from behind. Jamal swiveled his chair, to see his assistant peeking through the now ajar

door. “What is it, Sean?” Jamal asked quickly. “You need to come this way.”

“Not now, Sean. We’re making great progress; this session will be over in

a few hours.”

Jamal noticed a look on Sean’s face that he hadn’t seen before. “Sir, you need to come to your office, now,” Sean said with a slight

quiver in his voice. “Is everything OK?” Jamal asked, beginning to worry. “No sir.”

A prickling sensation caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up;

a few of his staff were now looking in his direction in concern. “What happened?

Has something happened with the AS1?” Jamal asked,

fearing the answer. “No sir, the AS1 are fine, but something else terrible has happened.”

Jamal stood and turned back to face his team. “I will return shortly; please continue to press on.”

He turned on his heels and followed Sean to his office. Typically, the two

would engage in some light-hearted banter, but not this time. Sean remained

silent and stoic. As they entered Jamal’s large office, with windows allowing the bright

sunlight to paint the room, Sean pulled a tablet from his side bag and

handed it to Jamal. Jamal focused his eyes on the display revealing a chilling headline:

“Tragic Assassination of Declan Wilter, UN Secretary General.” Jamal’s

heart plummeted. Declan, the man who had epitomized hope and unity in

the midst of uncertainty, the leader who had facilitated the peaceful arrival

of the AS1 aliens on Earth, had been senselessly taken from the world. Jamal’s voice trembled as he turned to Sean. “What happened?”

Sean’s voice was laden with sorrow as he recounted the grim details of

the assassination, the chaos that had ensued, and the shockwaves that

reverberated throughout the world. Although a tough personality, Declan

had pushed Jamal to make decisions that often left him uncomfortable. But

now, with Declan’s absence, Jamal already felt the pressure closing in on

him. He felt a strange mix of emotions ranging from sadness to worry to

absolute fear of no longer having the support of the man who had

orchestrated it all from the beginning. Jamal knew that in the event of the secretary-general passing away, the

UN had a process in place to allow the General Assembly, on the

recommendation of the Security Council, to appoint a new person. Jamal

also knew that person would be him. In the face of such a tragedy, it was

clear that humanity needed leadership more than ever. “Get me on the line with President Helland,” Jamal said softly, his mind

twisting in and out of scenarios. “Yes sir, right away.”

Sean turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. “FUUUCKKKK!” Jamal screamed at the top of his lungs before

dropping to his knees, tears beginning to run down his face. Chapter 67

Within seconds of the truck rolling forward, Higgens pinched the bridge of

his nose in frustration, realizing he was back in the F-150 with the bad front

right wheel bearing, rattling like bolts in a tin can. The drive to the ARF

airstrip took about twenty minutes, despite the relatively short distance. The

road was littered with washboard bumps and potholes. The time gave

Higgens a chance to reflect. How was Declan’s assassination going to affect

this operation?

Upon hearing the news, Higgens had allowed himself ten

minutes to grieve; he timed it on his GPS watch. Although he had not

known Declan well, they had spent plenty of time together working out

logistics and strategies. Declan was a driven man, often pushed by his own

agenda. However, his desire was what had pushed humanity to make these

courageous steps toward partnering with the AS1.

No man deserved to have

his life taken in such a way, and for that, Higgens grieved. The truck slowed to a stop at the designated greeting area near the end of

the strip. Higgens, and a few others climbed out of the vehicle; he

straightened his dress uniform. Soon the large C-17 could be seen descending upon the landing strip. It was time. Higgens had never seen the AS1 in person. Over the past

almost six years he had been intimately involved with the species yet had

never confronted them face-to-face. “There she is!

According to the log it’s carrying a payload of around

thirty-six tons, not even half of what the beast is capable of,” the thirty-

something driver said. “They’re bringing several more vehicles for use at the ARF, building

materials to begin work on Section Five, a repair station. Plus, various

supplies, including food, water, and clothing.” The man in beige fatigues

grinned. “And, of course, the AS1 and their first, one-ton, build package. That’ll be a sight to see.”

The C-17 hit the runway hard, trailing a plume of white smoke with the

stench of burnt rubber. In a few moments, the back doors opened, and a

wide ramp lowered from the tail of the aircraft. Higgens wiped the sweat

from his brow and squinted into the sunlight, eager to see the AS1.

Moments later, the AS1 were escorted down the ramp by a team of six

armed soldiers and made their way toward Higgens and his team. “Oh my God, will you look at that,” said the driver. “There they are—

that’s incredible.”

Higgens remained stoic and professional as always. He didn’t answer, but

stood erect, waiting for the group to approach. The soldiers walked in

formation around the group of AS1, who labored themselves across the

ground. The aliens stopped in front of Higgens, the soldiers stepping out of

the way. Their extra limbs uncurled to help support their weight. The AS1 looked as he expected, just like all the photos and videos,

though they were larger and stranger in person, making his nerves bunch

up. Higgens pulled himself together. “Greetings, AS1, welcome to ARF, and one of our deserts in the United

States. I hope the sun and heat will not be too uncomfortable for you,”

Higgens said in a clear and concise voice. “Pleased to meet you,” Amicus-Alpha replied in its synthetic voice. “This

environment is per the plan, and we have made all needed preparations. We

will soon be at home in our own living pod.”

Amicus-Alpha uncurled a long trunk-like limb for Higgens to shake. He

hesitated, something he never did when offered a handshake. Pushing the

nerves aside, Higgens reached out his hand and placed it within the long

AS1 fingers. He found it smooth but strangely cold as he gently gave it a

shake; the fingers were nearly as long as his forearm and he noted what felt

like little suction cups on the inside of its hand and fingers. An unexpected

shiver snaked through his skin as he dropped the contact. “If you follow me, I will escort you to the transport vehicle and get you

on your way. Your materials will travel with us.”

The AS1 were escorted up a wide ramp into the back of a semitruck, the

inside looking rather bare and dark, though clean. Even with Higgens’s

hardened military views, he couldn’t help but think the accommodations

seemed a little less than humane. But given the AS1 size and the bright sun,

the semi was the best option. He looked back to the C-17 and saw a forklift carrying a large box resting

on a wooden pallet. A brown canvas sheet, cinched down with yellow tie-

downs, covered the contents. Higgens assumed this to be the AS1 building materials. The forklift gently placed the ten-by-ten-foot box on the back of

a flatbed trailer. Higgens checked in with each team, to ensure they were ready to go and

then returned to the F-150 with the complaining rattle. The convoy traveled

the three miles to the AS1 Zone in less than ten minutes on the newly paved

road. A stark difference from the road connecting ARF and the airstrip. Although the drive was short, it felt like time was moving slowly. Higgens ignored the strange sensations rolling over his body, as if it

couldn’t tell whether to move into flight-or-fight mode or not. The single-file row of trucks broke formation and came to a stop, side by

side. A cloud of dust floated past them. Higgens jumped from the truck, his

boots making a solid thump on the hard ground. “Couldn’t have found them a shittier piece of land,” he muttered under

his breath, viewing the endless expanse of dry dirt and sand. The container was lifted from the flatbed and placed near the existing

structure the ARF team had constructed, just several weeks before. “Are you OK with it there?

Want us to pull the cover?” Higgens asked

one of the AS1; he didn’t know which one was which. “Yes, that will be fine. You may remove your protective cover,” the alien

replied. Higgens turned his head and barked toward one of the soldiers, “Pull that

cover.”

Two army privates dressed in desert camo jogged diligently over to the

box and gave the tie-down release tab a hard push and then pulled on the

yellow strap. The flat fabric ribbons fell to the side and in perfect

synchronization the two men gave the tan canvas cover a yank. The AS1 container was a dark matte gray. In fact, the material appeared

to be completely unreflective, almost giving it a two-dimensional

appearance. All edges were round and there didn’t appear to be any visible

door or access point. Higgens turned back to the AS1.

“Which one are you?

Are you Amicus-Alpha?” he asked. “I am Amicus-Gamma; you can distinguish us via the name tag placed

here.” Amicus-Gamma pointed to a small strap around one of its limbs with

Amicus-Gamma stitched onto it. Higgens grunted. “What do you guys need now?” he asked. “We will begin unloading; no assistance is needed for the initial step.”

The AS1 slowly staggered over to the box, orienting one to each side of

the cube. They reached out their arms and pulled. In similar fashion to a

large drawer, the sides slid out, revealing smaller boxes and spheres inside. The AS1 began unloading with a smooth rhythm under the desert sun. For

as slow and weak as they appeared in this atmosphere, Higgens was

impressed with the strength they did have. They would use the four lower

limbs to walk and carry items with the remaining two. Colors blinked and faded back and forth between them. Higgens wished

he knew what they were saying. The contents of the containers were set on

the ground in what appeared to be a sporadic pattern at first. But Higgens

began to see they were placed in specific spots. It was as if the AS1s knew

what was in each container just by handling them. Eventually, one of the aliens lumbered back to Higgens. “We request the use of the forklift.”

“Roger that,” he replied. “We are not aware of someone with the name Roger in this group.”

“Jesus Christ,” Higgens replied under his breath, not addressing the

AS1’s comment. He pointed a finger at the forklift operator and motioned for him to

support the AS1.

Higgens had to shake his head to make sure he wasn’t in a dream. He had

to recognize that this was an amazing sight. Here in the desert, in the

middle of nowhere, a place devoid of life, two amazing species were

working together. Two species vastly different from one another, were able

to communicate and accomplish a task. Within a matter of a few hours, the AS1 told the team they no longer

required assistance and the humans returned to ARF. AS1 Log 1485

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

GIDEON: What was your original goal in making contact with us?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Our main impetus was to better understand the human race. GIDEON: You thought you would learn from us humans, just like we have learned from you?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. We considered this possibility. GIDEON: And so far, I understand you have adopted several of our quantum mechanics

models?

Have these benefited you?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. AS1 found your rendition of string theory beneficial. However,

this was not our greatest discovery. GIDEON: Oh really?

What was?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans have unlocked an entire new dimension of thought process. One that AS1 could have never discovered or understood before. The more we study it the more

we realize the impact it can have. GIDEON: Funny, I never would have thought out of all the technologies we have discovered

and invented, the way our brains tick would be the most valuable takeaway. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We have yet to decide if it is valuable. Several of us have undergone

experimentation with adding this way of thinking to ourselves. And thus far, it has only

hindered our abilities. GIDEON: Some AS1 are attempting to add emotion and free will to their thought process?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: Are you one of the AS1 that has begun adapting this way of thinking?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: Wow. And you feel it has hindered your abilities?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: I believe that it’s causing me to treat you differently than I would a

human I haven’t met. Causing me to exhibit what you would call, a bias. GIDEON: That isn’t a bad thing. That just means we are building a relationship. And it’s about

time after five years I must say, that’s fantastic. Why would you see this as bad?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Because of this relationship, I am now finding feelings of guilt, which

could cause irrational decisions. GIDEON: Guilt?

Why would you feel guilt?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We need to end this session. I’m sorry, Gideon. Chapter 68

With no doors separating the rooms, the courtesy of knocking was not an

option. Higgens awoke to a young military sergeant sticking his head

through the canvas slit. “Sir, you may want to head to Sec 3.”

Higgens waved him off, dressed, and walked to the headquarters. Section 3 was reminiscent of a typical convenience store in terms of its

size. The walls, like all the other structures, featured a robust brown canvas

exterior. However, on the inside, they gleamed silver due to the application

of a hybrid aluminum covering that had been wrapped around the structural

frame beforehand. This prevented any radio signals from passing through,

causing the room to be a dead zone for any cell phones or other

communication devices. Nothing came or went from the building except

through two dedicated workstations that were guarded around the clock. In the back right corner, a towering stack of servers hummed with

activity, nearly touching the ceiling. Multicolored lights flickered

intermittently across their front panels. Leaving them was a thick tangled

mass of wires snaking across the ceiling like spiderweb, dropping down to

each row of workstation, providing the computers the information they

needed. A young man approached Higgens upon his arrival, he had met him twice

and still couldn’t remember his name. “Our drones watched them all night; it’s pretty remarkable really. I’ll

push it to your workstation.”

Higgens, not sure what the guy was talking about, walked to his

workstation and unlocked the computer. Within moments, he pulled up the

drone footage in reference. It revealed an incredible progression of the AS1

zone. A new massive structure stood where they had placed the box just

twelve hours before. It featured smooth gray walls reaching vertically

upward to a rounded top, organic in shape and he could not make out any

seams or evidence of bolts or screws. Higgens was bewildered that

something that size would weigh less than a ton. He checked the inventory log and was unable to pinpoint which item

would classify as the pieces for something this large. The report was

jumbled and difficult to understand. He found the blueprints, and nothing

seemed to match. Needing the attention of the guy whose name he had forgotten; Higgens

used the next best option. “Guy!”

Everyone looked in his direction and Higgens made eye contact with the

guy without a name. “Does this comply with the terms?

I don’t believe we defined how

quickly they could build but this does not seem to match the blueprint I

saw,” Higgens said. “Correct, we did not define how quickly they could build. Additionally,

you are right in the fact that this does not match the final layout of the

structure approved. We contacted the AS1 at 03:30 and they assured us this

is a temporary structure that they need to build, similar to how we use

cranes and scaffolding to build our buildings. Do you want me to request

them to halt the build until we review the structure plans in more detail?”

the guy responded. “No, Jamal has enough on his plate right now and will be up my ass if I

tell him we halted the build on day one. Get me the build plans ASAP,”

Higgens replied. “I’ll get you the plans within the hour … the name’s Stephen … again.”

Higgens turned back to the drone footage from last night, running it at 6x

speed. The way the AS1 moved sent chills through his body. The lights on

their bodies flashed regularly as they worked. They never once stopped to

take a break, to pause and consult, to eat or defecate. Their movements

reminded him of ants working on an anthill. Working tirelessly with

absolute dedication and purpose. A cold, empty numbness gripped Higgens as he watched, their pace and

movements all unhuman. He thought about how fast they could build a

civilization on Earth, based on how quickly they were building now, a dark

foreboding starting to swell within him. They seemed more akin to

machines, not animals. Not a single shred of dissension anywhere to be

seen. If they worked faster than humans, were more technologically advanced than humans, and were more organized and efficient than

humans … He felt concern in his gut, and his gut was rarely wrong. Chapter 69

The shift of attention from the ISS to Earth was noticeable. Gideon

understood that resources were limited, but his IT support ticket of his

personal Internet connection being down remained open. Frustrated, he

clicked the “X” on his Netflix app and pushed his way out of the

obnoxiously small crew quarter. He pulled himself toward the Cupola but

was interrupted by a sound on the other side of the AS1 Section Lock. All

personnel were typically on the “human” side of the door by this time. He

checked his watch, set to GMT time; it was 2 a. m .

He reversed his body’s

inertia and began moving toward the door. As he moved back by the crew quarters, he noticed Carter’s cot was

empty. Gideon reached the door and scanned his fingerprint while inserting the

key that dangled around his neck. The door slid open revealing a flustered-looking man. “Carter, what’s wrong?

Can I help?”

He met Gideon’s gaze, eyes wild with thoughts. “I shouldn’t have done it; it is not my place to analyze others’ work, but

these numbers are not accurate. There is reason for concern,” Carter said. “What numbers?”

“Dennis, the MSI group. Why didn’t they hire capable people for the

most important part?

It baffles me.”

Carter rotated in an elegant 180 half-back flip, their eyes almost level but

Carter’s upside down. “What are you talking about?”

“The AS1 have sent what I think are some type of power generators,

capable of some serious energy outputs down on Earth. Serious power,

man. The load was labeled as ‘Misc Item’ with a danger level of low. The

governments have no idea what they’re letting through.”

“What do you mean?” Gideon asked. “How could they not check

something like that?”

Carter rubbed his temples. “It’s probably lost in the big government mess. Everyone wants a piece of

this. The Defense Department, Homeland Security, DOJ, Department of

Energy, agriculture, the FTC, the WHO, the UN. Shit so many entities have

their hands in this pie, it’s easy for things to get lost in the shuffle.”

“But it is all funneled through MSI; they get final buyoff?” Gideon said. “Well, I hate to talk bad about a dead man … but do you know who laid

out the criteria for the MSI team?”

Gideon didn’t have to answer. “And bless his eager little heart, Declan didn’t know shit about science. His flowcharts are ridiculous. I can’t hardly blame Dennis and the team. Not only do they not have the right backgrounds, but they also don’t have

the tools in place to be successful.”

Gideon had never seen Carter in such a state of disarray. It was

unnerving. “Can’t you let someone know what you found?”

Carter snorted. “Yeah, I tried. Dennis is shitting his pants, Declan is fucking dead and

Jamal doesn’t have a clue what is going on. Who do I tell, Gideon?”

“Waller, we need to tell Robert Waller,” Gideon responded. “Gideon.” Carter looked straight into his eyes. “We better hope to God the AS1 have good intentions because we just

gave them their Trojan horse.”

Chapter 70

“Get me on the phone with Dennis.” Waller’s face was hot and flushed. Gideon had reported findings from Carter that had dropped a weight into

his stomach. Seven days after the AS1 had been permitted to start building

on their designated land, for which they had provided blueprints, the AS1

Zone had been erected with a massive amount of structural material. More

than, it seemed, should have been allowed according to the one ton per

seventy-six-hour assignment. How had they gotten so much extra

equipment to Earth?

Dennis had been appointed the lead engineer and import regulator of the

MSI team and was stationed on the ISS to help audit the materials the AS1

were transporting to Earth. His expertise was unparalleled, with a

background in both materials engineering and political science. Dennis had

been a part of many confidential government operations in the United

States. Minutes later the line was opened between the Pentagon and the ISS. “I sent Jamal all the reports,” Dennis started out, skipping any greetings. His voice sounded stressed and hurried. Waller opened his mouth to begin, only to be interrupted by Dennis. “The reports from the on-site surveyor team came in just now. I’m

perplexed and highly disturbed. Again, I’m working through this, and all

findings seem legit. It makes no sense.”

Finally, Waller got a word in. “Clearly they have been able to generate additional supplies from what

you inspected; I don—”

“Do you understand the laws of physics, sir?

The total mass of a closed

system remains constant over time, you can’t generate more mass out of a

given mass, which we have been strictly regulating. It isn’t possible. I am

confused and disturbed by this, but those rules don’t change. Additionally,

according to the data logs, the supply ship apparently has no intention of

returning to the ISS.”

“What do you mean?

They won’t be bringing more supplies?

That’s

good, right?

I read the report, but break it down, what were they bringing in?” Waller was doing his best to keep his cool. “Sir, you need to understand, this shit is alien. Like literally alien to us. We were doing our best but, quite frankly, I would have put it all into

holding because I didn’t know or understand what any of it really was. But

with the UN, the United States … man, the whole fuckin’ world is breathing

down my neck. It was made abundantly clear that if we confiscated a

substantial number of materials, this would send a bad message. We had no

choice but to trust the descriptions. None of the shit flagged for radiation or

dangerous items; although we had no idea what the fuck the stuff was, we

had no means to flag it.”

“Jesus, Dennis, you could have called!

Told us something seemed

suspect.”

“At the time it didn’t!

Waller, if you had read the comments in the report,

it was clearly noted that we were unable to validate the purpose of the

majority of the equipment. This is … Or was, happening too fast.”

“OK … I’m going to set up a call with the on-site survey team and your

team to discuss this. If it is in fact confirmed there are no more payloads

coming in, we need you back on Earth tomorrow to join the on-site team,

understood?”

“Yes … And, Waller, I am sorry.”

“Don’t say that; we can hope to God there is nothing to apologize about

here.”

Waller tossed the phone on his desk, neglecting to hit the red hangup

button. He quickly wrote a short summary to Gideon. The kid was not

supposed to be involved in this stuff, but he needed the questions to be

asked. AS1 Log 1487

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

GIDEON: Log 1211, at timestamp 18:05.

Amicus-Beta, please input any new information you

feel necessary. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No new information to be provided. GIDEON: OK. We have noticed the facility in the AS1 Zone seems to be erected with more

materials and volume than was allowed to be sent. Is this true?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: OK, explain please. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: What do you need explained?

GIDEON: Why and how are you building a larger facility than we permitted?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We are not. GIDEON: The agreement was for a facility to be built with the two tons of supplies you have

brought to Earth, and now, your facility is larger than that. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans regulated the number of supplies that could be sent, which

was two tons, not the final volume or mass to which our research facility would be restricted. Please explain how we have violated your terms. If you indeed believe we have. GIDEON: I guess you haven’t, not really sure, but wouldn’t the two have a direct relationship?

If you are limited in resources you can bring, how can you build more?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Think outside the box, as you humans say, Gideon. I’m sure you can

figure out how this is possible. GIDEON: Well … the only conclusion I can come to is that you are able to make more

materials. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: That would be a very logical conclusion, Gideon. GIDEON: Don’t you think that’s a little bit deceptive?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We have not broken any rules, yet. Chapter 71

Dennis had less than thirty minutes to adjust to gravity before he was

aboard a Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter taking him to the ARF. The turbulence made it challenging to read the transcript he had been

handed. Gideon’s most recent log with the AS1 dug into the anomaly. Amicus-Beta had neither confirmed nor denied the overbuild of the AS1

Zone facility. However, it seemed to express that they had in fact found a

way to build more than the allotted two tons of materials. The dark clouds reflected back the flashing red light from the helicopter’s

tail, cold air funneled in through the small gaps between the side door and

the metal body of the black helicopter. Out of all the confidential projects

Dennis had worked on, none had been as stunning as this. An alien species,

living on Earth, doing something that was not understood by humanity. How did it happen, he wondered?

Was he being too anxious?

How long do

you wait until you trust someone—or something, rather?

Would ten years

have made a difference?

Twenty?

Were the AS1 innocent and all this stress

was coming from the human brain’s ability to exhibit anxiety?

Maybe the

AS1 had never experienced a threat and did not comprehend that what they

were doing was threatening?

Or perhaps on the contrary, the AS1 were in

fact threatening and they had played the moves perfectly. All of these

unknowns made Dennis quickly solidify one fact. “We did not have all the facts before allowing the AS1 to approach,” he

muttered aloud. He could feel the pulses of pressure as the large blades thumped through

the midnight air. “Descending into ARF now; prepare for landing.”

The pilot’s voice came in crisply through the large earmuff headset. Dennis had done this a hundred times. He tightened his harness as he

knew some of these military pilots liked to land these choppers with

assertion. He then grabbed his notes and tablet and secured them into his

duffel bag, which he placed on his lap. He felt his stomach drop as he became nearly weightless and with a hard

slam, the helicopter came to a halt, safely on the ground. Within moments, the side door slid open, and Dennis jumped out, keeping his head low to

avoid the spinning rotors. He immediately realized they had not landed on a

helicopter pad but rather on the sand next to the facility. This proved the

urgency of this mission. Dust swirled in the air violently, burning his face as

he jogged away from the helicopter. As he cleared the dangers of the idling

helicopter, he could see the silhouette of a large-framed man, hands on his

hips, standing in front of what he assumed was mission control. Dennis dropped his duffel bag and gave a salute. “Dennis Stedman, sir. MSI lead.”

“I know who you are. General John Higgens, head of operations, ARF.”

The men exchanged a firm handshake. “What do we know?” Dennis asked as the two began walking toward

Section 3.

“For starters, the original claim from the AS1 that the large structure was

temporary and a device to help them construct their main facility appears to

be false.”

“Meaning they intentionally deceived us?” Dennis asked. They reached the door into Section 3; Higgens flashed his badge and the

two armed guards stepped out of the way. “We are being careful about stating that, but that is sure as hell what it

feels like to me.”

Once inside, another man walked up, dressed in a black suit that stuck out

among the sea of military garb. “Robert Waller, United States affairs, we are glad to have you here.”

They continued walking toward the front of the room where there were

several large monitors displaying multiple views of the AS1 facility. Some

of the angles rotated slowly as they were a live feed from a drone flying

overhead. The large alien structure was absent of any exterior lights and

loomed in perfect camouflage among the dark night. Even the night vision-

equipped cameras seemed to struggle to obtain a clear image. Dennis had to

assume this was because many of the AS1 materials had strong properties

of diffraction. They were structured in such a way that caused light waves

to spread out rather than reflect directly back, preventing the infrared light

of the night vision cameras from being reflected back. “Our last communication with the AS1 inside was three hours ago, upon

our request for them to stop all further construction,” Waller said, looking worried. “It doesn’t appear they have obeyed our request,” Higgens added. “OK, tell me more about what you have observed and know about the

structure,” Dennis asked. He was less concerned about the communications and agreements with

the AS1 than he was about the physical process they were utilizing to build

their creation. “Unfortunately, it took our teams over twenty-four hours to realize this,

but the original structure, which you can see is cylindrical in shape, rising

vertically from the ground with a dome on top, was approximately thirty

feet high. We continued a visual but couldn’t see any change on the exterior

or AS1 activity. Our teams then ran a side-by-side comparison from

different timestamps, which revealed that the structure is continuing to

grow upward by approximately four feet per day.”

“Almost as if it is growing up out of the ground?” Dennis asked, staring

intently at the array of monitors. “You could say that,” Higgens replied. “The structure has continued to grow at this rate, even after our request

for them to stop and now reaches nearly sixty feet high. There had been no

change in diameter,” Waller said as he passed a clipboard to one of the

technicians. Dennis took several more steps toward the monitors, his face now only a

few feet from the large screen. The alien building was sleek and featureless. No signs of an entry or exit point. He traced his pointer finger across the

screen, following the straight edges of the structure. “Unworldly,” he muttered under his breath. A sense of awe coming over

him. He turned back to face Higgens and Waller. “What is the next step?”

Waller checked his watch. “In thirty-five minutes, we will send an additional message to the AS1,

again demanding they stop all construction and allow us to survey the

building. You will be a part of that team.”

Dennis turned back toward the monitors and said in a confident voice. “I look forward to it.”

Chapter 72

Bright light attacked Gideon’s closed eyes, startling him awake. Heart

racing, he ripped the harness from his sleeping bunk and frantically

surveyed the room. Relief filled his body when he saw it was only Rajit. He

noticed his colleague was visibly distraught, floating before him. “Damn, sorry … you really startled me. What’s going on, Rajit?”

“I need you to check me on this data … Meet me in Progress as soon as

possible.”

Rajit turned and pushed himself back out of the node. Mind sluggish

from having been aroused from a particularly deep REM cycle, Gideon

pulled on his lab clothes. The last thirty-six hours had been jarring, leaving

his brain feeling clouded by the intrusive feelings of emotion. Moments

later he was effortlessly flying his way to the lab. “This better be good,” Gideon said in a stern but comical way upon

seeing Rajit. The goal was to lighten the mood of the harsh awakening. It

didn’t seem to work. “I’m working on Carter’s files.” Rajit pointed to his screen. “He did the

legwork here, but I’ve been digging deeper into the molecular data.”

Gideon nodded, looking at the screen but having no idea what the

numbers and figures meant. “As you may remember, sixty percent of all samples requested by AS1

were soil.”

“OK, as we know this tells the tales of our geological history, right,”

Gideon replied. “But Gideon, if you remember, they seemed almost weirdly interested. Once we confirmed the location of AS1 Zone, a soil sample from that zone

was requested, and of course, it was provided.”

“I’m still not tracking here, Rajit.”

“Gideon, it’s been in front of us this entire time, just look at Fred.” Rajit

nodded in the direction of the now massive alien plant they had grown from

the small orange acorn the AS1 had presented to them on their first day of

meeting. “Fred grew far beyond the set mass of the acorn when it was given to us,”

Gideon replied. “Yes, of course, this happens all around us. Seeds grow into massive

trees, babies grow into much larger adults. Humans have always just limited

this to living organic things, but I believe the AS1 have figured out how to

do this artificially. Think about it. It is literally impossible to make more

mass out of a set mass, which we are seeing at the AS1 Zone. I heard from

Waller that they are detecting seismic disturbances coming from within the

AS1 structure. I believe these could be consistent with mining or drilling

activities, perhaps collecting mass or in this case dirt. I think they are

building the facility by converting our dirt into buildable materials,

allowing them to then build potentially whatever they want.”

“That is why they have stopped their supply runs, all they really needed

was the baseline materials to build a shell structure and the equipment to

break down our soil. They have everything they need,” Gideon replied. “Gideon, from my sessions with Amicus-Gamma, he showed me

different things they were able to do, I noticed that it didn’t seem to want to

show me too much when it came to building physical technology or

material, and thus when I queried about the biological benefits Amicus-

Gamma was more than willing to share all information. I think it was

almost a distraction tactic.”

“What do you think they are able to build, using our soil?”

“I don’t have all the scientific data I need to fully support this, but now

looking at the level at which they can strip down elements. I wouldn’t be

surprised if they can reconfigure them any way they please.”

“Meaning what?” Gideon pressed. “I’d imagine they can build virtually anything they want: engines, fuel,

hybrid metals, computers …” Rajit leaned back, nervously biting his lip. “You’re a goddamn genius for finding this; I’ll get a hold of Waller.”

AS1 Log 1494

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

GIDEON: Amicus-Beta, our scientists believe that you are somehow using soil to construct

your AS1 Zone facility, is this true?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: Why did you hide this from us?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Please explain your meaning of hide. Our understanding of the word

is to actively prevent an emotion or fact from being apparent or known. We took no effort in

hiding this fact; however, we were never asked nor told explicitly to disclose it. GIDEON: You’re kidding?

You thought it would be OK, after we allotted you certain

materials, to build more than the allotted amount?

Without explaining or asking?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We build from surrounding resources, we always have and will. This

is not abnormal practice by our standards. It was expected. GIDEON: Well, it was not expected by us. We need everything that happens on Earth to be

under our standards. You must stop all construction at the AS1 Zone, until we humans have a

full understanding of what it is you are building. Why are the AS1s at the AS1 Zone not

complying with our requests?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We understand your concern with our facility; however, we will not

be in a position to stop our building progress. GIDEON: Amicus-Beta, I am begging you as a friend, to tell your team to comply with our

requests. Humans are very easily threatened, and this act of noncompliance and direct violation

will cause a reaction none of us want. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: I am sorry, friend. We do not want to cause harm but cannot stop our

progress. GIDEON: Amicus-Beta, remember our conversations about fear?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: Well, you are now causing fear throughout the entire human race. Chapter 73

Higgens redirected his focus from the rearview mirror to the front

windshield of the rattling Ford F150.

Dennis sat in the back seat along with

an armed guard and Linda who arrived overnight. She had been made aware

of the recent developments through Gideon and had managed to personally

contact Higgens, despite him being a nearly impossible man to get a hold

of. She had made the case that having someone the AS1 had met, face-to-

face, would increase the chances of them being willing to communicate. Higgens had no reason to disagree and arranged for her pickup that same

day. They raced across the dirt road that tied ARF with the AS1 Zone. Higgens felt anger beginning to well up in his belly. The AS1 had not

responded to their last request for them to halt construction and allow a

survey. Jamal had given the order to approach the AS1 Zone with two main

objectives. Firstly, survey the exterior of the AS1 structure and try to gain

some understanding of its purpose, and secondly, try to reestablish

communication with the AS1 inside. Higgens had alerted the AS1 just an

hour before, informing them they would be approaching and requesting

access to come inside. No reply was returned. The massive structure rose into view. Its organic shape reminded him of

one of those ugly new age museum buildings he had seen popping up in

DC. An overpaid architect’s way of making something different just to be

different. Dennis had been able to confirm the walls were built from a type of

honeycomb material, similar in appearance and structure to what is used in

commercial airline floor panels. The AS1 structure had no windows or

fences, and there didn’t appear to be any access into its softly patterned

surface. Since the first day, none of the AS1 had been seen outside of the

structure. The F150 slowed to a stop outside the facility. The armed guard exited first; this was the first time a weapon would be

brought near an AS1 being. Linda had discouraged bringing the armed

guard along, but Higgens demanded it. After a quick survey of the area, the guard motioned it was safe for Higgens, Dennis, and Linda and they exited

the F150.

The driver stayed inside, leaving the truck running. The three

took several steps forward and then stood, shoulder to shoulder, facing the

alien structure. They waited for nearly five minutes, standing in silence. No

reaction. Higgens nodded toward Linda. She walked back to the F150 to grab a piece of equipment and then

returned to her original position, microphone in hand, ready to break the

silence. The AS1 facility did not emit any sound, smoke, or even EMI

radiation. It showed as much activity as a massive rock sitting in the middle

of the desert. Linda brought the microphone to her lips and broke the desert silence. “AS1, I am talking to you as a representative of the human species and as

a friend. We request that you come out and talk to us.”

The words reverberated off the structure. Minutes passed and the giant

facility kept its stonelike stillness. The words were repeated, with the same result. Higgens nodded at her to speak the next line. “Our onsite materials specialist is going to begin a survey of the exterior

of your structure. Please do not see this as a threat or advance on your area,

we are simply trying to understand what it is you have built.”

Higgens shot Linda a stern look, the last sentence she had added, off

script. “Once he has completed his assessment, we will require you to invite us

inside.”

The towering structure loomed over them, unwavering in its absolute

stillness. Dennis then began walking toward the structure, armed guard in tow. “The guard should stay back,” Linda said to Higgens, referring to the

armed guard. Higgens grunted, dismissing her concern. Dennis spent nearly an hour conducting his survey, during which Higgens

and Linda stood fast. Upon the completion of the analysis, there was still no

sign of the AS1.

“There is no way for us to get inside; I don’t see any type of door or

entrance,” Dennis reported. Higgens’s eyes narrowed and he chewed his lip

in thought. “Let’s go,” he said in a quiet but stern growl and the team loaded back

into the F150, not speaking a word, and drove back to ARF. All deep in

their own thoughts. Chapter 74

Room 0010 was on the highly secured underground level of the UN

headquarters building. Originally built in the 1970s as a safe room in the

event of a crisis, it had not been used since 9/11.

The double-layered walls

and self-sufficient power system, coupled with its shelter from any radio

waves traveling through the air, made it a truly off-grid location, yet located

deep within “the grid” of New York City. The room was dark, with only a single desk lamp on a small table. Waller

sat in a chair facing Amicus-Alpha, slumped on the concrete floor in the

middle of the room, four of its limbs steadying itself. “Am I being held prisoner?” Amicus-Alpha asked. The inability of the AS1 to express any attenuation through the flat and

monotone synthetic electronic voice was something that disturbed Waller. As an expert at picking up on people’s cues, dissecting someone’s tone of

voice and facial expressions. He was stripped of one of his most valuable

talents. “No, you are being held here for your safety. You have managed to upset

a large number of the human population with your recent actions. And let’s

skip the part where you pretend to not know or understand what I’m talking

about.”

Waller tried to control his tone at least a little bit. “I will provide any information you require,” the alien replied. Amicus-Alpha had recently been flown back from Rio de Janeiro to DC,

interrupting the team’s travel itinerary to Barcelona. Jamal had expressed

fear about how the world would react to the tour being postponed. Waller,

with the support of his cabinet, had made it clear it was critical for both the

safety of Amicus-Alpha and the people. Perhaps they could blame it on

health issues with Amicus-Alpha. He was sure they would come up with

something plausible. Fortunately, the public was still unaware of the loss of

communication with AS1 at the ARF and the concerns about the oversized

alien structure. “We know you are constructing the AS1 Zone predominantly by

reorganizing our Earth materials, dirt, to create building materials for your lab.”

“This is true.”

“This violates our terms.”

“This is false.”

The AS1s’ matter-of-fact way of responding was something Waller was

still getting used to. It was a constant reminder of their lack of emotions,

their inhumanity, as it were. “You had an allocated two tons of material every seventy-six hours. We

estimate that in the last ten days, or almost two hundred and fifty hours, you

have constructed nearly one hundred and fifty thousand tons worth of

construction. This is outrageous.”

“The construction has not violated the terms of our agreement.”

“Yes, it did,” Waller replied flatly. He opened a manila folder he had brought into the room and pulled out a

copy of the original blueprint drawing and another photograph that clearly

showed the size of the gray building compared to the vehicles that were

parked nearby. “This is a copy of the blueprints we all agreed on. When initially asked

you claimed the majority of what you were building was to assist in the

build of the structure defined in these plans, which clearly specify the

dimensions of this facility. Your current building far exceeds this.”

“AS1 had to make adjustments to our build,” Amicus-Alpha replied. “Section 1.3 .2 of the build agreement clearly states that any amendments

or revisions must be approved through the MSI team, which also requires

UN approval!

You did not submit this request.”

Waller would normally find pleasure in pointing out a clear breach of

contract to someone. However, this only caused him more unease. “Oops,” Amicus-Alpha replied in that fucking robot voice. “Oops?!

Are you fucking kidding me, Amicus-Alpha?

That is your

response?

We have built this partnership with your species over the nearly

past six years. We have never seen you make a mistake. Your species

doesn’t make ‘oopsies.’ This was deliberate. Tell me it wasn’t!” Waller felt

rage and fear building up inside himself. “It was,” Amicus-Alpha replied. “Don’t you realize you are creating a major problem between us,

humanity and the AS1?”

“We understand.”

Waller’s heart sank at the words he had just heard. He felt like he was

trying to play a game of chess with only pawns at his disposal. Doomed for

checkmate. “Don’t play games with me Amicus-Alpha. Why have you done this?”

“Our intention was not to alarm or upset you. We needed to make a

revision to our building and chose not to follow section 1.3 .2.

Yes, this does

violate your terms; however, we have followed every command, every term

you have set forth until now. We required a specific kind of lab to truly

begin our research, and we constructed it.”

“You say that in past tense. The facility is already finished?

In just ten

days?”

“Yes.”

“So, you have stopped building?”

“Yes, we have stopped building. The facility will not grow any larger. It

should be recorded that humans requested we stop building and we have

stopped.”

“No, not exactly,” Waller said. “You have stopped, but not to honor our

request. You stopped because you were done.”

Waller paused, thinking. “And what happens now?” he asked. “We will keep to ourselves and conduct our research.”

“Why have you forbidden humans to enter the AS1 Zone and why did

you choose not to follow section 1.3 .2?” Waller blurted. He was not proud

of the way he was conducting himself, but he was desperate for answers. “Our technology is proprietary to us. Just as you still hold confidential

information from us, we have confidential information we are not yet ready

to share with you.”

Waller’s brain nearly exploded. This was becoming more and more

upsetting. Worse still was the nonchalant attitude the AS1 seemed to have

about all of it. Like they really had no idea they had done anything wrong,

as if they were surprised that humans even cared. Were they playing stupid?

Or did they really believe that they had not done anything that put the

human race at risk. It occurred to Waller that as intelligent as the AS1 were, they had to know

exactly what they were doing. They also had to know how the humans would react to it; they had been studying humans just as we had been

studying them. Waller quickly concluded that the AS1 were prepared to

upset the humans for whatever they were building. What would make a

species go to an alien planet and immediately start pissing off the

inhabitants. What the hell were they up to?

He tried not to think of the worst. He always considered himself a

practical man. Someone who took things for what they were, not what he

wanted them to be. Sure, he wanted the AS1 to be friendly and cooperative. He wanted to believe they meant well, but the recent developments forced

him to consider otherwise. Who had they really let onto their planet, and

what did they really want?

“OK,” Waller said, putting the picture and folder away. “I need to inform

you that we are working on an updated agreement. And we expect the AS1

to cease all activities at the AS1 Zone until we have agreed on more

specifics. We will need to survey the facility and speak with the AS1

inhabitants.”

“This was not in our original agreement.”

“I know, but we are updating the agreement.”

“This is unacceptable to the AS1.

We will continue with our plan as it is

permitted in the original agreement.”

“You do realize, Amicus-Alpha, that we humans are not comfortable with

how you have acted.”

“We understand this.”

Waller stood; he wanted to stare down Amicus-Alpha, locking eyes. But

he didn’t even know where to fucking look; the creature was just a ball of

flesh and limbs. With a clenched jaw, he left the room, slamming the door

behind him. A dozen scenarios blazed through Waller’s mind as he took the elevator

back up to the ground level. Colonization, theft of resources,

annihilation … He tried to temper his cynicism with positive thoughts—the

fact that the AS1 had been peaceful thus far and were clearly very

technologically advanced and intelligent with what seemed like good

intentions. Nothing added up. If they were so advanced and wanted to harm

the humans, surely, they could have just done it without years of building

this relationship. Asking our permission to approach. Either way, something deep in his soul told him the AS1 were taking them for a ride. Problem was,

he didn’t know where they were going. AS1 Log 1496

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: GH

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: I want to tell you something that is not logical to share. GIDEON: I have strict orders to keep these sessions focused on the AS1 Zone. Does it pertain

to that?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No, and I worry it may cause you more concern. But I believe it is

special and therefore I want to tell you, as a friend. GIDEON: I don’t know that we will be able to stay friends for much longer if things continue

as they have. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans have something that AS1 have never seen in any other

intelligent species. GIDEON: What do you mean in any other intelligent species?

We were your first contact with

a new alien race, correct?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: You are not, we are aware of and have researched over 17 different

alien races. GIDEON: What?

Why did you lie to us about this?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Please, allow me to finish. Humans are the first species we have ever

encountered with what you call imagination. Everything AS1 does or knows is a logical

decision compiled and derived from data. Imagination is not categorized the same as emotions,

which we have seen in some other intelligent alien species. Some creatures can try to “imagine”

what something will be like; however, we still arrive at the conclusion by logic. GIDEON: Amicus-Beta, I’m not sure I understand what you are trying to say. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: No other species in the universe makes music, decorates their homes,

creates art. When Linda gave us the experiment to read The Pillars of the Earth we struggled to

understand the book as we had never seen or experienced something that was created simply

for entertainment. These things are very unique to the human species, and it greatly fascinated

us and will cause us to place your species in an important category. GIDEON: Important category?

Amicus-Beta, it is great to hear that humans have a way of

thinking that is uniquely ours, but you not telling us you have discovered other alien species?

Lying about us being your first contact?

Why would you do that?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: We have been statistically more successful coming into contact with

new species this way. Chapter 75

The loud crash of the iPhone slamming into the wooden shelf left a ringing

in Jamal’s ears; everything was coming unraveled, and it felt like there was

absolutely nothing they could do about it. He thought about Declan: What

would he have done amid all of this chaos?

He was so good at finding a

way of pulling the positive out of a negative. Jamal wished Declan were

here because he knew he, himself, wasn’t cut out for this type of conflict. How did everything get so twisted, so ahead of itself?

Perhaps this is

humanity’s biggest weakness: the ability to trust. To not rely on simple facts

or data, but to weigh trust and feelings with equal weight. Jamal walked to the window of his office, producing an unobstructed

view of the East River and the tall buildings of Long Island. Although once

looking so tall and massive, the buildings looked frighteningly fragile and

weak. He sighed, pulled himself together, and walked to the large conference

room for the UN General Assembly strategic planning meeting, which was

now happening daily. Once everyone was seated, Paula Puerta, the UN

representative for Argentina, began the meeting. “The last couple of days have been a turbulence of questioning and

concern. The AS1 have violated our agreed-upon terms. However, they

appear to and claim to be acting in good faith. They have not directly

threatened us, and they do not show any clear indicators of hostile activity.”

“Yet it seems they have the upper hand, moving toward placing the world

into checkmate,” Roger Langley of the UK said in a high British accent. “Agreed,” replied the representative from Germany, before adding, “And

now learning that humans were not the AS1s’ first contact, this turns

everything upside down. The AS1 spent six years perfectly following our

terms and requests. Now, they have deceived the human race twice in one

week.”

“The only reason you lie is when you have something to hide,” Jamal

muttered. And what the AS1 may have to hide, chilled Jamal to the core. “To add to all the chaos,” said another member of the council while he

clicked his remote through the pictures on the large screen, “two days ago, a civilian drone got through the restricted airspace near the AS1 Zone and

captured a fairly clear picture of the facility. These photos have been spread

across every social media site, allowing the public to jump to all sorts of

conclusions and assumptions.”

“One of the most important things is keeping the public calm,” Jamal

said, staring at the screen. “Not only did the pictures not come from the

government, but from a malicious drone user—now the public won’t trust

us,” he said, shaking his head. “Initial reports show most people are rightfully shocked by the alarming

size of the AS1 building, as the public was aware of the two-ton limit we

had set,” said UN member Tony, from Sweden, looking at his tablet. “It

seems the main trending ideas are that AS1 have been on Earth far longer

than the public was told, or that we are losing control of the building site.”

Which, Jamal thought, was true and much, much more. “Moving forward, we must find a way to understand what the purpose of

the AS1 structure is and whether there is any indication that it could be a

threat,” Jamal said. “We have to know what is going on inside. How can we gain access?”

Steve asked. “At this point it is clear that the AS1 are not going to allow us access,

which I believe leaves us with only one option. A reconnaissance mission,”

Jamal stated. “The United Kingdom will provide resources from MI6 in support,”

Roger Langley of the UK replied sternly. Jamal found himself struggling to focus for the rest of the meeting. Opinions were being thrown back and forth on what actions should be

taken. Some, frighteningly aggressive. After several long hours the meeting

concluded, leaving only a small list of actions for the length of the meeting. Jamal made his way back to his office and retrieved the iPhone from the

floor. Noticing the now splintered screen, he applied pressure to the side. The screen lit up, defaced by a spiderweb of cracks. After a quick blow

across the screen to remove residual glass from the fractured surface, he

dialed Higgens. “Jamal, I hope you’ve got something good.”

“On the contrary, I have some news that will be shared as soon as it is

verified. Keep an eye out for a call coming up. What do you have over there?”

“Not much has changed. We can’t see inside. On the outside it seems

construction has stopped as the structure is no longer growing and is

holding at eighty-two feet tall. That said, we have a new problem: the MSI

team claims they were building from mined dirt, correct?”

“Yes, that’s my understanding,” Jamal replied. “Well, if they are in fact done building, as stated by Amicus-Alpha and

what we are observing, then why are we still picking up seismic

disturbances over here?”

“Cut to the chase, Higgens.”

“Jamal, they are still mining or drilling in there, and if not for more

building supplies, then what for?”

Jamal considered the statement for several moments, trying to prevent his

thoughts from jumping to assumptions. “Still no communication?” Jamal broke the silence. “Nothing, we have tried sending messages and have traveled to the AS1

structure ourselves to attempt communication with them. No response.”

“We just concluded the UN General Assembly meeting, we are going to

place a vote on issuing a reconnaissance mission,” Jamal replied. “We don’t have time to wait for a vote, Jamal. I’m scheduling a call with

President Helland and Larry Whitefield to issue an action plan against the

AS1.” Higgens’s tone was stern. “You must wait for a vote from the United Nation council, Higgens,”

Jamal replied with the strongest voice he could muster up. “To hell I do, this is happening on US soil. We are going to start taking

matters into our own hands,” Higgens barked back. The line went silent. Chapter 76

~ 5 years 13 days after contact ~

Thirty rounds. Heart thumped loudly in his temple. Thirty rounds and then

the AR-15 assault rifle would need to be reloaded. He checked his fanny

pack, feeling the weight of the two extra magazines. After purchasing the

weapon from a friend of a friend, he had practiced reloading the gun over

and over, but had only actually shot the gun once. Didn’t matter. He grew

up around guns; he knew how to shoot, how to fight. War paint covered his

and the rest of the group’s faces; barbaric warriors fighting for humanity’s

freedom. Nobody knew if the armor-piercing rounds would penetrate the alien

structure. But they had been able to come up with several other high-

powered weapons that might. Today was not a day for doubt or fear. The clouds in the sky were filled with a deep red, like blood-soaked

sponges as the sun dipped below the flat desert horizon. Shadows melted

into the overall darkness that had settled in around them. Two days of

hiking by night had brought the group within range, allowing them to see

the border of the AS1 Zone. In front lay the next obstacle, a barbed wire

fence with signs every fifty feet reading, “Restricted area, no trespassing

beyond this point. Use of deadly force authorized.” He scoffed at the idea

that the aliens didn’t think the human race would retaliate. It was time. A young man to his left, maybe early twenties, made the first move,

along with a few others equipped with wire cutters. They cut through the

fencing with a line starting four feet above the ground and running down to

the sand. This allowed the edges to be pulled apart, creating a small gap in

the fence. Once several gaps were complete, they stood back and raised

their fists. With several deliberate hand signals, the group charged and were

through the fence in seconds, running hard. Soon it was clear the run was

further than expected. The pace slowed as adrenaline levels decreased,

allowing fear to begin climbing back into the young man’s brain. A loud buzzing approached and a drone with a flashing green light

tracked their movements from the air. Confidence filled the team, as it seemed others were also taking action against the unwelcome aliens. Perhaps the government was going to support their attack after all. A whizzing cut through the air, followed by a thump and then the crack of

a gunshot, just a half second delayed. Someone fell. Confused, the team dispersed every which way. Who was shooting?

More

whizzing bullets sliced through the air, followed by the haunting echoes of

gunshots. He couldn’t tell if anyone had died. The sound of an approaching

helicopter thumped the air. The team was now crawling on the ground,

desperately looking for cover on the flat sand. The bullets stopped. The

helicopter came within sight, projecting a spotlight, dust spinning

frantically through the dark air. A loudspeaker from the craft bellowed through the night. “You are trespassing on US government property. Stop all progress and

movement. Any movement will be fired upon. Place your hands behind

your heads.”

Several guns thundered; flashes of light zipped around. He put his face

into the cooling desert sand and screamed in fury. He was now being

attacked by both aliens and his own kind. How could his government

defend such ruthless, unwelcome, monsters?

Chapter 77

The walls in the canvas room seemed to be slowly moving in, constricting

the already small space. Linda felt claustrophobic, panicked, furious. Sweat

beaded on the hairline of her clammy scalp. Higgens stood motionless

looking at her, eyes piercing into her mind, making it hard to think. He was patient, giving her time to pace, contemplating what he had just

told her. Giving her the opportunity to present a better idea. A better idea,

there had to be one. She now noticed how low the ceiling really was, just at

arm’s height. “Linda, this is not a decision we take lightly. But things are quickly

getting out of hand; we must act,” Higgens finally said. Linda paused her stride, moved her hand to her face, and pressed her

thumb and index finger hard against her closed eyes. This accentuated her

preexisting headache, but she didn’t care. “This would be an act against them. We should assume, if caught, they

will take it as a dishonest act, which puts us in uncharted territory,” Linda

warned, hand still pressed to her face. Higgens, still leaning stiffly against one of the metal posts holding up a

canvas wall, nodded. “This is understood by leadership and me.”

Linda resumed her pacing, restricted to seven steps from one side of the

tent to the other. “Can we try and go again?

Undoubtedly, they know that Amicus-Beta

told Gideon that we weren’t their first contact. They will expect that we

have questions. Perhaps this is some sort of sign that they are ready to talk.”

Linda worked to get her mental strength back. “No, Linda, we don’t have time. After yesterday’s attempted civilian

attack, leadership needs a solution before we lose complete control of this

situation.” Higgens was stern. “No time before we attempt to send in a surveillance bug?

No time before

we violate the very terms that we set out for the AS1, inherently breaking

the trust that has taken so long to build with them?”

“The AS1 broke that trust the second we learned they lied about humans

being their first contact and went rogue with their building plans,” Higgens yelled back, catching Linda by his tone. She stopped pacing and looked straight into Higgens’s dark eyes. “This is not a game of tit for tat, Jesus Christ, Higgens. The AS1 have

damaged our trust in them; let us not damage their trust in us.” Genuine fear

began leaking back into her mind, the tent walls began closing in on her

once again. “Linda, this is happening; we need to understand what is going on in the

AS1 Zone. Any moment could be a moment too late. I don’t like this plan

either, but I don’t see an alternative.”

“Then why the fuck are you even talking to me?”

“You have been a massive part of this mission’s success. Linda, I need

your support.” Higgens quieted his voice. “You don’t have it.” Linda pivoted on her heels and walked out of the

god-awful canvas room. Cold fresh air filled her lungs. Chapter 78

“Your stations will be here.” Higgens pointed to the front left workstations. Section 3 headquarters was the busiest he had seen in the last several

weeks. People moved quickly around the small space with intention. “Perfect, and we plug into the mainframe through port 403?” the woman

replied in a strong British accent. “That’s correct,” Higgens replied. The ARF IT teams had worked furiously throughout the night to prepare

for the arrival of the MI6, Secret Intelligence Service team. The group of

six had been flown in directly from London to support the reconnaissance

surveillance mission that was scheduled to take place in just twelve hours. Higgens swiftly stepped out of the way as a hand truck holding a stack of

computers was rolled into the MI6 workstations. Directly next to the MI6

area was also a new team of United States CIA and DIA members. The purpose of the operation was to insert a micro camera into the AS1

facility and determine the contents of the facility and the source of the

seismic disturbances. Working together, they would use a small device called GNAT, a micro-

drone approximately the size of a housefly. This micro-surveillance tool had

been developed back in the Afghanistan War but was still one of the most

effective tools to date. The device could be flown into secure locations with

minimal detection and could deploy up to three signal repeaters, allowing it

to penetrate deep within a space not normally accessible with a remote

signal. It would utilize software known as IAP—Interactive AutoPilot—

similar to that used on the Mars rover allowing the device to navigate tight

spaces without collision caused by human error. “Sir?” Higgens turned to see Dennis. “What do you have?” Higgens asked, eagerly. “After surveying their building, we spotted a small inconsistency near the

top portion of the structure. We have been monitoring the area using the

RT106 surveillance drone.”

Dennis lifted his tablet for Higgens to see. “For fifteen seconds every hour, a flow of air moves into the facility from

this aperture, causing it to open slightly.”

“Do we know what the vent is for or where it leads?”

“We don’t. But my theory is that the AS1 structure is completely airtight

and that this is a vent to equalize the difference in atmospheric pressure

inside the building to the pressure outside. For instance, as they were

building, the interior volume of the structure was increasing. If you did not

allow air to enter the facility, you would create a vacuum. This also

supports my theory, and hope, that the vent will lead to some type of air

duct system that should eventually give us access to the main chamber

inside,” Dennis replied in an enthusiastic tone. “Understood. This is our best shot; send the exact coordinates of the vent

to the reconnaissance team.”

“Roger that. Thank you, sir,” Dennis said, and then made his way to his

station. Higgens took one last look at the facility; he felt confident. They had

assembled the best of the best. It was time. Higgens stepped outside, noticing the wind had picked up. Although it

provided some relief from the heat, it brought with it swirling clouds of

dust. Higgens squinted as he looked into the abrasive breeze, spotting the

transport vehicle. He pulled out his radio and turned the dial to channel 4.

“Higgens here, it’s time to deploy the GNAT, meet me at the transport

truck now.”

He shoved the radio back in the thigh pocket of his cargo pants and made

his way to the truck. Linda and two armed guards arrived at the truck within minutes. Higgens

opened the door for Linda, but she walked past him without making eye

contact, getting into the opposite side of the truck. The small team rode in

absolute silence to the AS1 facility. Once they arrived the armed guards

began to unbuckle. “Stay in the goddamn truck this time,” Linda hissed through gritted teeth. “Linda, we ne—”

“Don’t fuckin’ test me right now, Higgens,” Linda replied, interrupting

him and now staring intensely into his eyes. The armed guards exchanged conflicted looks. “Stand down, stay in the truck,” Higgens said with a sign. Linda grabbed the large microphone and left, walking toward the massive

alien structure. Once just several feet away, she dropped to her knees. Higgens held his ground, waiting at the truck. He knew better than to

interfere with what she was doing. She lifted the microphone to her lips and

spoke. “My friends, my allies, AS1.

I remember the day we met aboard the ISS

and what a day that was. Both our species eager to learn and grow. We

made promises to each other. Promises of peace and transparency. I got to

share things with your kind that I held dear to my heart and in return you

have shared things with us that have saved millions of human lives. This

truce, this bond, this alliance that we have built over the last five years

means everything. “We, the human race, intend to honor it with integrity and dignity. In the

last few weeks, mistakes have been made, leading to assumptions. These

assumptions are dangerous for our relationship and we must resolve them

for the sake of our continued relationship. Please, allow us the courtesy of

opening a dialogue. This will allow us to alleviate our concerns and

assumptions. Both of which are necessary for humanity to feel comfortable

with your presence here on our planet. Please, I’m begging you, speak to

us.”

Linda placed the large microphone on the ground next to her and looked

up at the towering shape. Higgens watched as she waited. He wished that the AS1 would respond,

as much for her sake as for humanity’s sake. But, as he had feared, the AS1

structure remained still and silent. He made three deliberate knocks on the

metal panel of the truck with his knuckle. This alerted the driver to deploy

the GNAT, which dropped from the center of the truck, quickly mixing in

with the sand as the wind slid across the ground. “Linda, it’s time to go,” he shouted. She rose back to her feet and grabbed the microphone, making her way

back to the truck. Dust stuck to the trail of tears running from her eyes,

leaving dark brown streaks down her face. Chapter 79

Darkness had begun to fall over the New Mexico desert, the camouflaged

buildings of ARF blended into the vast brown landscape. From the outside,

the facility would have appeared deserted, standing in silence. But on the

inside of the Section 3 building, things were a stark contrast of commotion

and intensity. “Execute GNAT activation,” ordered Higgens. A redheaded British man in his late forties rattled off terminology that

Higgens could not follow; however, it made him very aware that the

operation was beginning. The large screen on the forward wall was filled with a live video. The

quality was that of an old standard television, but in color and just enough

clarity to see the image. Now that everything was on, the GNAT was still kept dormant, in order

to save its short battery life. The RT106 drone, which had been hovering

near the facility for the last two days, recharging its battery by solar, would

relay when the vent next opened. Minutes rolled by as everyone waited in suspense. When the notification

came, within two seconds the grainy video feed materialized, showing the

dry dirt around the structure. “Eric, you’re on.”

“Aye, sir.” Eric’s London accent was clipped as he got to work at his

computer station. The team watched the large screen on the wall. The GNAT powered up

and lifted into the sky, leaving the ground falling away into the darkness. Linda’s stomach dropped and she felt a little queasy, watching the view

fly into the air. The GNAT slowed and hovered near the aperture in the top

dome. “We have a visual on the entry point, ready to penetrate. Two minutes and

forty-three seconds down,” Eric reported. The GNAT, once deployed, only had a twenty-minute battery life; time

was the most valuable resource. The team watched intently as the micro-drone entered the small opening. Immediately the screen displayed a swirling array of motions as the GNAT

seemed to tumble into blackness. “What’s going on?” Higgens shouted. “Steady on,” Eric said, then raised his voice for the others. “The inrush of

air must have proven too strong for the small device and we lost control. We’re locating the GNAT now.”

The screen was black; everyone held their breath. “I got it!” Eric said. “It appears the device is lodged and not moving,

about ten feet within the facility. We’ve programmed the GNAT to power

down to save energy once inside; it is standing by until the vent closes and

high-velocity air stops.”

“The vent is due to close in four, three, two, one—it has closed;

indications show there is no more in-rush air movement,” reported the pilot

of the RT106 drone. “What about the GNAT?” Higgens asked aggressively. “It’s working; the device is powered on.”

“Why can’t we see anything?

The screen is still black,” Higgens asked. He hated these high-tech operations; he would be storming in there himself

if he could. “The first signal repeater is deployed,” someone called out. The repeater was no bigger than a grain of sand. The redheaded M16 lead spoke up. “All cameras are active; it must be

completely dark within the structure. The GNAT can navigate, even in the

absence of light. We will wait to activate the infrared as that causes a fifty

percent increase in power consumption.”

Higgens scratched his head. “So, we can’t even see what the hell is going

on?” he barked. “Patience, sir; this is according to plan. We are in an air vent. The GNAT

is moving slowly along a wall and descending into the structure, putting

distance between itself and the repeater. I am following its progress; it is

moving according to its programming.” Eric leaned back. Six long minutes passed, everyone watching the dark screen. Gradually

the barest of shadows seemed to be moving on it, though it was impossible

to interpret the gradations of black and gray. Eric broke the silence, making Linda jump. “The GNAT has detected

lights and is moving toward the source.”

Now the video feed became light and grainy. The drone seemed to be

approaching a large open space. “The second signal repeater has been deployed.”

On the screen they watched as the device moved toward a set of slats—

the light was shining through them into its narrow tunnel. It slowly moved

through the slats into the light. A large area opened up onscreen. It was difficult to tell any specific

orientation of the space. “Reminds me of their ship attached to the ISS, only much larger,” Linda

said. “GNAT is spiking and is overcompensating. Battery life will be drained

at one hundred and forty-three percent at this rate. Eighteen minutes

remaining.”

“Why is it spiking?” Higgens asked, getting frustrated. But the redheaded British man simply nodded and replied. “Pick up the

pace then, Eric; begin a visual survey with primary focus on the source of

the seismic signals.”

The GNAT began spinning intensely; images flew across the screen far

faster than anyone could comprehend them. This was a technique used to

survey a large space. Since the GNAT was too small to equip a typical 360-

degree camera, it would perform several fast spins and rotations allowing

the team to stitch the footage together afterward, allowing for a 360-degree

image of the interior. The drone ceased its rapid rotation, allowing its sensors to capture a more

intricate view of the expansive interior. Although understanding the exact

scale proved challenging on the screen, the interior appeared cavernous and

hollow. As if the entire AS1 structure’s interior was one large space. It was

filled with a thick mist that swirled about, reflecting light back at the

drone’s camera. A massive object flew across the view, causing the team to jump in

surprise. “An AS1,” Linda yelled. “Are they flying?” Higgens asked. The object was gone just as quickly. “Follow its direction,” the redheaded man said. The GNAT flew deeper into the facility. “Signal down to twenty percent,” Eric reported. “Are you sure?

Our range should be fine from SR2,” the redheaded man

said. “Agreed, but confirmed.”

“Deploy SR3 at ten percent, let’s hope it’s enough.”

The GNAT flew deeper into the abstractly shaped interior. The walls,

strangely organic in appearance, bore a series of ribbed patterns that

undulated with a faint, eerie luminescence. The light seemed to pulse up

and down the ribbed channels, creating an irregular flow as if the very walls

were alive and breathing. These ridges seemed to lead to a series of large

octagon-shaped extrusions that could be seen scattered throughout the

interior. The GNAT landed on the smooth wall. “SR3 deployed. Signal ninety-nine percent, fly time twelve minutes

remaining.”

“Go down; the drilling will be toward the ground,” Higgens interrupted. The redheaded man relayed the command. “Work the minus-Z axis.”

The GNAT began working its way deeper into the structure, occasionally

spinning in a downward spiral to continue its survey. Another AS1 zoomed by in the distance—this time they could see the

whole, large body smoothly flying through the air. The AS1 were gliding

about the structure as if in zero gravity again. They did not display the

typical flashing of colors as just a few minimal flickers could be seen across

the skin of the large alien. “That is unnerving,” Dennis whispered, watching as another AS1 could

be seen flying up the far wall. “Yes, but at least it appears the GNAT has not been detected,” the Brit

said. “We need to find the source of the seismic disturbances,” Higgens

pressed. “Detecting signals that match the drilling sound profile. GNAT assigned

to approach the source,” Eric said. As the small device neared the bottom of the large cavern, a large shape

could be seen through the thick swirling fog. Their fears were confirmed

when a massive device anchored to the ground came into view. It had four attachment points and in the center was a tall cylindrical object. As the

GNAT approached the device, the team saw a large pile of soil adjacent to

the machine. “Son of a bitch, that is a lot of dirt,” Higgens said. “And it doesn’t look

like they’re using it.”

“We aren’t picking up any sound from the drilling device,” Eric said,

looking confused. “Confirm we are still picking up the seismic disturbances,” Higgens

shouted to the geology team. “Confirmed. Significant ground vibrations are still being detected.”

“How can they be drilling without making any noise?” Eric said,

scratching his head. “Their atmosphere,” Linda said, and after a short pause. “They have

created the atmosphere that exists on their home planet, Kepler-62e. It

doesn’t conduct sound waves.”

“Let’s get a closer look,” Higgens said, squinting at the large screen even

though he was only standing a few feet away. “Yes sir, moving in n—”

The screen went black. “What happened?!” Higgens shouted. “Running diagnostics. We were at forty-two percent signal with eight

minutes of fly time remaining. But all feeds are cut off,” Eric shouted,

working vigorously on his keyboard. Moments later the lonely PC in the corner of the room chimed. This was

the computer they had so desperately been using to try and establish

communication with the AS1.

It had been silent for nearly a week, when the

aliens had stopped communicating with them. The group shifted to the tech

running that station. “The AS1 have sent us a message. It reads ‘AS1 has notified you of

violation of terms. Please consider this a warning.’”

AS1 Log 1499

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: This will be our last AS1 log. We do not intend to return to the ISS

and will remain on our attached vessel. GIDEON: That is probably for the better. I wish you would share with me the reasons for all

this. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: I wish I could, Gideon. GIDEON: Carter was right all along, wasn’t he?

The AS1 have done this many times. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes, we have come into contact with many other alien life-forms. GIDEON: I explicitly mean this process. Befriending a new species, gaining their trust and

then doing, whatever it is you are doing. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Every process has been different. But the goal has been the same. GIDEON: And what goal is that?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: You will learn soon enough. GIDEON: Was Carter right about your ability to hear?

Did you steal that from an intelligent

alien species as well?

Just as how you have begun to adopt the human ability to show

emotions?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes, within our experiences with other aliens in the universe we have

chosen to adopt different traits. The AS1 possess the ability to alter ourselves genetically. The

complete process only requires one of our life cycles. When we encounter a specific trait that

has a quality we desire, we are able to incorporate it into ourselves. This allows us to compile

all of the unique traits that made the other alien species we have encountered, successful. This

includes hearing. GIDEON: So, the AS1 are a fucking super alien that contains all the top abilities of aliens

throughout the entire universe. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Yes. GIDEON: My God, Amicus-Beta. What have we done?

Part V

CONFLICT

No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We

ourselves must walk the path. – Buddha

Chapter 80

~ 5 years 1 month 24 days after contact ~

Her father was typically a slow driver, rarely exceeding the speed limit, but

tonight was an exception. Trees glided past swiftly in the dark. From the

back seat the girl would see each tree for a split second, illuminated by the

old Honda Civic headlights, before it was left behind in the dark. Not only

was the driving different, usually on summer road trips her mother would

“MC” from the front passenger seat, choosing either music or audiobooks,

but tonight was an exception. The radio was tuned to AM and the local

news station had dedicated its feed to the newest updates. The girl was confused. Something changed today. Her mother had arrived

home early from work and called her father. He returned thirty minutes later

from the golf course. They went straight into their bedroom. The girl

overheard intense talking, not like the typical arguing shouts that sometimes

emanated from their closed door. Today was an exception. Their voices did not escalate, but clipped

rapidly, almost excitedly. A short while later her parents emerged from the

room. “Can you do me a favor and pack your favorite stuffed animal and a few

of your coziest clothes?

We are going on a quick road trip.”

Her family had never been the spontaneous type. They always planned

trips months in advance. Today was the exception. Affected by their serious attitude, the girl made little fuss and picked out

her things. By the time she came back from her room, her pink Barbie

backpack was loaded with Dug Dug, her favorite stuffed bear, a pair of

cotton PJs, and lots of colorful socks. Her parents had already placed the

red and black suitcases by the door. Normally her parents shared a suitcase when going on road trips, saving

space in the trunk for beach toys and camping equipment. Today the trunk

was filled with water and supplies. “Where are we going, Mama?”

“Just out of the city for a while, Sweetie, maybe a Holiday Inn up in the

hills. Maybe they’ll have a pool. You love pools.”

No complaints, she loved playing in the pool. Chapter 81

“Refueling is complete, we are good for another thirteen hours, Madam

President.”

President Helland nodded at the male flight attendant and shifted her

focus to the oval window. The large, black refueling aircraft descended and

banked out of view. After the flight attendant closed the door behind him, Helland let out a

large sigh of relief. Just twenty-six hours ago, she had been informed that

surveillance of the AS1 facility showed signs of malintent, and she was

notified she would be taking to the skies in Air Force One until matters

were resolved. Out of all the different possibilities that could have occurred when they

first discovered the AS1 and then ultimately let them come to Earth, this

was one of the worst-case scenarios. They didn’t know why the AS1 were

drilling down into the Earth’s core, and the not knowing was what scared

her the most. President Helland sighed, lost in thought, wondering how she

could possibly influence the outcome for the better. It was the kind of situation that no one could prepare you for. Conflict,

and possibly war with an alien race. War … the president considered grimly. Getting involved in politics had been a challenge, running for office and

winning the presidency had been even more difficult, but this—navigating

diplomacy with an alien species that now didn’t seem to be cooperating—

was just out of this world. President Helland had once been told by a colleague that every important

decision was either the beginning or end of something. If that was the case,

she wondered about the decision to let the AS1 come to Earth. Was it the

beginning of something?

The beginning of a golden age where humans and

AS1 worked together for the betterment of the world. The beginning of a

long but strained relationship between humans and aliens?

The beginning of

interplanetary war?

she considered darkly. Or was it the end of something?

The end of all human diseases. The end

of Earth belonging only to humans?

The end of the human race?

she

thought, even more darkly. And while she acknowledged the thought was dramatic, she also knew it certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility at

this point. President Helland shook her head, as if she could shake the negative

thoughts from her mind. They went away stubbornly, though clinging to her

thoughts like thick sap against tree bark. She’d never really had an issue

with negative thoughts. She’d always been positive, choosing to think about

the good things that could happen rather than the bad. Glass half full, and

all that jazz. But as the leader of the free world, how could she not consider

how badly all of this could go?

And with that thought, came pressure. No matter what was done or what

transpired, people would be looking to her, the president of the United

States, to blame, praise, ridicule, believe in, or otherwise lead them out of

this uncharted situation. These thoughts penetrated deeper into her mind

with every breath, the weight of responsibility getting heavier. The large aircraft shook as it flew through a patch of turbulence, her

already stressed mind forced to deal with her unease about flying. Though

considered the safest place for a president in a crisis, Helland found the

turbulence of the aircraft at forty thousand feet to be quite unnerving. She

preferred her feet on the ground. The president stood and made her way out of her office and into the

presidential suite, a small comfortable room in the nose of the 747-800

aircraft. She admired the beautiful interior and felt a sense of security as she

settled into her comfortable white leather divan. Using the touchpad

embedded in the armrest, she was tempted to switch on the television, but

worried about what she may find. News stations had run rampant, desperately trying to gain the loyalty and

attention of the people by broadcasting any and all rumors. Much of the

information being presented was distorted and, in some cases, false. The

recent trends in media misinformation were coming to a wild head. Once one outlet reported that the government had lost control of the AS1,

the other stations reported similar news, each trying to pretend they had

more information than the other. President Helland was disgusted in the

human personality which, for some, was still more focused on gaining

recognition and money in the midst of this worldwide chaos. The president kept the TV off and closed her eyes, hoping to get some

rest. Her mind needed a break. Just as she began to feel the long-desired sensation of drifting to sleep, her mobile buzzed in her pocket. She

clenched her jaw and then relaxed it, allowing her to suck in a deep breath. This was without doubt the call she’d been anticipating. The buzzing

continued. She knew it would ring eight times before pushing the call to

voicemail. She answered on the seventh. “Helland.” Her voice was cool. “Madam President, I have received news that the UN arrived at a

decision. A final briefing will be held in thirty minutes; I will send a link to

your computer.”

She recognized Waller’s voice. “What was the verdict?” Helland asked, already knowing the answer, but

still bracing for it, nonetheless. “The human race will declare a statement to the AS1 that if the drilling is

not stopped immediately, we will begin taking corrective action. This will

include a nonlethal e-bomb drop at the AS1 facility with the intention of

disabling all electronic and magnetic fields that the AS1 appears to rely on. This will hopefully disable their technological infrastructure for a

temporary duration. If it does not, more aggressive measures will be taken. The statement will require the AS1 to provide an exit strategy for them to

remove their presence from Earth.”

“An e-bomb?

I don’t remember being briefed on that?!

That feels too

aggressive,” Helland replied. “This is no longer a United States decision, we mu—”

“This is happening on American soil, we will not start a war with an alien

species right in the heart of our country,” Helland yelled back. She wasn’t

sure if the emotion she was feeling was rage or fear. Waller waited several

seconds before continuing. “Madam President, I understand the intensity of the situation, but the

truth is, if we don’t take corrective action, somebody else will. Once that

has happened, we have lost all control of the situation. Several countries,

including Hungary, have already ceased communication with the UN and

we have to assume that indicates them wanting to take matters into their

own hands. An e-bomb, when detonated, releases an electromagnetic pulse

that will disable all electronics and corrupt any data storage in the affected

area. It has a minimal impact and should not harm the AS1 in a physical

sense.”

“I will provide my input at the briefing; I need time to think,” Helland

replied. “Yes, ma’am.”

President Helland groaned softly after hanging up. The large white clouds

slowly slid by below. Her mind raced, trying to discover an alternative

solution, but she felt hopeless. The UN imposed a vote, and the ballots were

in. She no longer had power over what would happen within her own

country. Helplessness was a feeling President Helland loathed and swore she’d

never abide. There was always hope, always action that she could take. But

she couldn’t shake it now. Though she knew an e-bomb wasn’t lethal to

living organisms, it still felt like an act of violence. It still felt like the

beginning of a conflict she wanted no part of, and the worst part about it

was it was not even her decision. The American people wouldn’t

understand. They would think that she, as the president of the United States,

had decided to do this. And she almost wished she had. She confided in the fact that the AS1 were very intelligent, that they

would perceive this e-bomb for exactly what it was, a warning. And that

they would heed this warning and stop their drilling, understanding that

conflict on Earth would not be beneficial for humans or AS1.

That the

consequences of such a conflict could be very dire. Helland couldn’t shake the fact that if it was war the AS1 wanted, they

would have just attacked Earth instead of asking to come to our planet and

agreeing to follow our rules. This gave away the advantage of surprise,

catching us off guard. It didn’t make sense, wasn’t logical and from her

understanding, everything the AS1 did was just that: logical. They were

missing a puzzle piece; she was sure of it. Chapter 82

Jamal’s arrival at Room 0010 was marked by a mixture of his own

anticipation and trepidation. As he stepped into the interrogation room

below the United Nations building, a shiver ran down his spine, a physical

manifestation of his unease. He had known that descending into this

subterranean chamber was a necessary evil, but it was a task he had been

dreading. The room itself, a stark contrast to the bustling corridors and grandeur of

the United Nations building above, felt empty as he waited for the AS1

creature to arrive. Eventually the door opened and two armed guards escorted Amicus-

Alpha inside. The bulbous alien crawled in on its bottom four limbs in the

slow, lumbering way they had all become accustomed to. “Hello, Amicus-Alpha,” Jamal said, trying to steady the shake in his

voice. “Hello, Jamal,” Amicus-Alpha replied, moving to the center of the room. “Do you know the nature of our meeting today?”

“No.”

“The relationship between the AS1 and humanity has become strained. I

am here to inform you of the next actions humans plan on taking.”

“The AS1 are under no obligation to comply with new terms. We are still

working under our original agreement.”

Jamal was becoming so used to the electronic voice of the speaker that he

considered this to be the alien’s actual voice. “We know you are conducting illegal mining activity on our planet,”

Jamal said, noticing his leg was bouncing up and down in nervousness. He

took a quick glance at his notecard, even though it was ingrained in his

memory. “And you are aware of this mining by breaching the terms of the very

agreement you wrote up. Humans illegally gained entry to the AS1 facility,”

Amicus-Alpha replied. Jamal ignored this, trying to stick to the script. “We are demanding the AS1 cease and desist all mining, digging, drilling

or any other similar excavating activity. Our original agreement contained

no authorization for you to conduct such activity.”

“For the AS1, excavation is part of the building process. For us, there was

no need to specify it. This is a normal part of our process.”

Jamal slowly shook his head. He was tired of this creature who had the

intelligence to master interstellar travel pretending to dismiss the concerns

of the human population. “Amicus-Alpha.” He referenced the notecard, he had to say this word for

word. “If the AS1 do not stop all drilling activities immediately, humanity will

be required to take drastic measures to ensure the safety of our people.”

Amicus-Alpha rose up off the ground, straightening its long legs,

standing over Jamal. “And what do humans intend to do?”

Two armed guards took a step forward, but Jamal waved them off. “We will first issue a formal corrective actions statement, which will state

that we, humans, will no longer be held within the bounds of the peace

treaty we signed with your species.” Jamal felt small, fragile, powerless in

the midst of the now towering AS1.

“And what do humans intend to do?” Amicus-Alpha asked again. “We, as I stated, will iss—”

“And what do humans intend to do?” This was the first time Amicus-

Alpha had ever interrupted him. They were learning more and more about

human communication each day. “God help us all,” Jamal said and turned to leave the room. Chapter 83

The control room in the UN headquarters building was full, causing the

large windowless space to feel cramped. Leaders and teams from around the

world were stationed at computers. Over fifty countries had representatives

on-site. Jamal shifted his focus to the large screen mounted at the front of the

room, displaying status indications next to a list of 195 countries. Following

the United Nations voted decision to issue the corrective actions statement

to AS1, all countries had been given forty-eight hours to indicate their

position in the matter, either supporting the notion or opposing. Much to

Jamal’s surprise, over sixty nations had supported the decision, with twelve

opposing. The rest remained undecided and neutral. Jamal had thought that the more countries that showed their agreement

with the decision would ease his nerves. Instead, it made him more tense. For every country that responded favorably brought him even closer to

sending the message. The pit in his stomach grew tighter, and he swallowed

hard as he considered the stakes. It was the only way to face this, Jamal knew. “Jamal, we have an update from Ukraine,” a voice called out. He spun to the young tech. “What do you have?”

“President Oleksandr Bubka has confirmed their support and has pledged

their commitment and resources.”

Jamal’s stomach twisted into a deeper knot. But he nodded, his

confidence growing even if his stomach was still upside down. The

indicator on the large screen next to Ukraine changed to green. The doors to the room opened, and two Secret Service officers were

followed by President Helland. Jamal smiled. “Madam President, I was informed you would be in the air until a clear

understanding of the AS1s’ reaction was obtained from the declaration. I

wasn’t expecting to see you here today.” Jamal was relieved to have some

additional wisdom in the building. “How could I hide up there while leaders from around the world are

down here?” she replied with a smile. The entire room seemed to shift to a higher confidence. “Your presence is highly appreciated, Madam President. You may work

from the station there.” Jamal gestured toward Waller and the United States

representatives in the center left of the room. “Thanks, Jamal. We will get through this,” President Helland said clearly

before joining the US section. It was a small comfort to Jamal, hearing the president speak so assuredly. It felt good to know that she was so optimistic, and Jamal felt a bit of his

anxiety dissipating. They would get through this, they had to. Jamal refocused on the present moment, settling himself with a sigh. He

observed the room while contemplating their next moves. A gentle hand

touched his shoulder and he turned to see Son Shanju, the Chinese

president. “The time is now, Jamal.”

He nodded and swallowed hard. “There is a silver lining in all of this,” Son Shanju continued in his slight

accent. Jamal couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Your optimism is inspiring,

sir, but I fail to see how there could be a silver lining to committing the

human population to potential war against an advanced species.” His voice

began to waver. He hadn’t meant to be so pessimistic, but the words came

out faster than he could even think about them. “Observe your surroundings, Jamal,” Son replied. He took a good look around the room. The energy was intense. People

were swiftly walking between stations attempting to nail down all the loose

threads. Screens flashed as information poured in. Everyone appeared to be

working hard, and there was a tension over the room so thick it was

palpable. “I’m sorry but fail to see your point,” Jamal said. “Look again, sir. At the people?”

Jamal was unsure what he was looking for, and he gazed languidly

around the room with a puzzled look on his face. But then … then he saw it. He saw exactly what Son was talking about. People from all over the world,

different nations once disagreeing and even at war with each other, all

working together for the greater good of humankind. Protection of the

Earth, of the human race. For the first time in human history, the entire human race faced a singular

challenge together. This challenge was uniting the world in perhaps its final

moments. Jamal returned his gaze to Son and nodded his understanding,

moisture forming around his bloodshot eyes, a single tear slid down his

cheek. Son smiled at him, and then dipped his head grimly. This was it, it had to be done and everyone knew it, and he had thought

about nothing more in the last several days. The funny thing was, the more

he thought about it, the less prepared he felt. He had hoped to come to some

kind of closure over the decision, to a point where he felt sure. But that

moment had never come. He only thought of the consequences of the

decision. The gravity of it all. Jamal paused, then spoke loudly, finally daring to take the next step after

days of internal struggle and sleepless nights. “Send the statement.”

Chapter 84

Dust swirled into the blue sky with every step. Both the wind and sun were

trekking in from the west. Higgens faced the elements, squinting his eyes to

allow his thick lashes to block the sand as it sliced through the air. Releasing a grunt of air, he squatted down, balancing on his toes, knees

fully bent and pointing outward. The ground was mostly sand with pieces of

tan gravel speckled throughout. He reached down and ran his hand across

the hot dry earth, slowly rotating his hand while pushing down, filling his

palm with the material that the AS1 had somehow converted into a fortress

more advanced than anything the human race could even comprehend. Shaking his head in frustration and awe, he closed his hand into a fist,

allowing the fine sand to flow out the bottom of his grasp before slapping

his hands together, erupting a cloud of dust that was swept away in the hot

breeze. Higgens stood and turned to look at the new facility. It housed him and

twelve other military personnel. Twelve hours ago, Higgens had received a

call from Waller confirming that ARF was to be abandoned, and a highly

secure military base to be established outside of an RC-187 blast zone at the

AS1 Zone. As if a hurricane had come, ARF was leveled just hours later. All

valuable intel and computers were gathered and loaded onto the C17.

Everything happened in three short hours. Most of the teams were taken

away by the military aircraft, while Higgens and a few others were flown

by helicopter to Station 12.

Here they would monitor the AS1 Zone from

120 miles away using drone surveillance. How could everything have gone so badly?

Was it his fault?

Was there

something he could have done differently?

Higgens had never been one to

second-guess his actions. But now he found it was the only thing he could

focus on. Had the AS1 played them this whole time?

Higgens couldn’t hardly let

himself believe it. But there was no other choice. The AS1 had succeeded in

one of the most important campaigns of deception humanity had ever

experienced. A figure emerged walking toward Higgens, attempting to use a floppy

manila folder to block the wind from his face. “Sir, we are just minutes away from commencing the attack.”

“I know.”

“We need you in the security of Station 12,” the man shouted in the wind. Higgens nodded, taking one last look toward the AS1 Zone. There was no going back. Chapter 85

Gideon’s heart pounded as he fumbled with the manual door lock. News of

the Declaration had caused a Safety StrongHold Retreat, Code 3 where all

personnel on the ISS were required to retreat to the SSH, providing them

protection from the AS1.

This was a routine they had practiced but never

anticipated. Gideon was shaken to his core when he had first heard the

news. It was the unthinkable, and it had happened. His mind drifted back to when he had first discovered the signal at Green

Bank. A fateful day that felt like a lifetime ago. He had been filled with so

much excitement and optimism about the possibility of it being

extraterrestrial, but that joy had now turned to bitterness and fear. Now here

he was, actually contemplating the end of human existence. And he was

stuck in a small metal box in outer space. It was unreal. The whole thing had been. Discovering the signal, meeting

and talking with the AS1, then virtually curing cancer—it was madness, all

of it. He would not have believed it if he hadn’t seen it all happen with his

own two eyes. But to think that this was the culmination of it all was

heartbreaking. The announcement was relayed to Michelle, who had then swiftly glided

through the ISS and personally told each member they were invoking a

SSH Retreat. Each person had five minutes to complete their current work

and conduct the required steps assigned to them. Rajit was tasked with

pulling all important data and samples from the Progress Laboratory. Gideon had to manually lock and arm the Transfer Zone area B airlock,

creating a barrier between the AS1 ship and the ISS. If the door was

tampered with, the AS1 ship would be released and pushed away from the

ISS with a powerful thrust. His final step was to also manually lock the AS1 Section Door. He

completed his tasks in just over two minutes and found himself in the SSH

with the rest of the crew waiting for the final member of the Russian crew. The young Russian astronaut made it to the SSH just past the five-minute

mark and the door was sealed shut. The small, cramped room was silent. Rajit’s eyes were bloodshot as if on

the brink of tears. He shook his head slightly, and Gideon knew he was

quietly considering their fate. Rajit blew out a heavy sigh and crossed his

arms over his chest. He was undeniably distraught, and Gideon didn’t

blame him. His smile and once happy-go-lucky attitude were both gone,

melted under the fire of the recent news. The sad thing was that they had started their relationship with the AS1

with kindness and curiosity, and now they trembled at the thought of what

might happen. They had come a long way, just not in the right direction. Gideon took another look at Rajit, wondering if he looked just as afraid

as he did. He looked paler than normal, as if the blood had drained from his

face. His bottom lip quivered as he chewed it nervously, his eyes looking

more teary by the moment. He shook his head again, cracked his knuckles

nervously, and then made eye contact with Gideon. He said nothing, but the fear Gideon saw in his eyes spoke volumes. He

wished there was something he could say to make things better. Gideon reached over and squeezed Rajit’s shoulder, but he felt his own

emotions beginning to take over. Fear for both himself and the future of

humanity. Gideon understood all too well the abilities of the AS1 and their

potential to destroy the human race if they wanted to. The fact that Gideon was even asking himself that question was

terrifying. He felt a total loss of control, as if his fate—and everyone else’s

—would be decided by the whims of an alien species. And all they could do

was wait around to see what happened. To wait around and see if the AS1,

did indeed, want to destroy them all. Gideon hated that he even had to consider this, hated every part of it. Hated to see his friend, Rajit, frozen with fear. Hated everything about it. But he stopped his racing thoughts. What motive could the AS1 possibly have to destroy the human race?

What did humans have that they needed?

AS1 Log 3

– Error: LOG CACHE RECOVERED FROM DELETION –

Loc: BEAM2 [ISS]

personnel: DW

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Hello Declan. DECLAN: Hello Amicus-Beta. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Do you feel our interactions so far have been acceptable?

DECLAN: Acceptable?

They’ve been astounding, truly astounding. Really great. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Good. Our goal is to not intimidate humans. DECLAN: Ah, the concept of aliens may be intimidating to some people, but we recognize the

importance of this moment. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Good, we have a question for you. DECLAN: Please go right ahead, anything you want to know. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Why do humans kill one another?

DECLAN: Excuse me?

I’m not sure I understand the question. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Humans, over the entire course of history, have killed each other for

what seems like illogical reasons. Wars and murders seem to be something ingrained in human

nature. DECLAN: OK, well I’m not sure a conversation such as this will be great for easing the

concerns of our people back on Earth. I would be happy to provide you with more detailed

explanations of the root causes of conflicts human nations have had in the past. AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: AS1 needs to understand what drives humans to kill. DECLAN: I’m not sure we’re ready to go into such a dark topic and please refrain from

starting conversations around killing, this may make humans uncomfortable. Is there anything

else I can answer for you?

AS1 [AMICUS-BETA]: Do you believe that humanity’s main driver for killing is self-

preservation and allowing your species to expand?

—— log end ——

Chapter 86

Ripples jiggled in the cup of coffee sitting on the table next to Higgens,

reminding him of the movie Jurassic Park, only this T. rex was on his side

and soaring above. The pair of F-22s tore through the sky and began to

circle back toward the AS1 Zone. He watched the pilot’s view on his screen,

listening to the verbal exchanges within his headset, his mic poised close to

his mouth. The corrective actions statement, sent by the UN, had two requirements

for peaceful resolution: that the AS1 stop drilling immediately, and provide

an exit plan for the AS1 to return to their ship in twelve hours. But the drilling continued. In fifteen minutes, the F-22s would drop two self-guided e-bombs at the

base of the AS1 structure. The way he saw it, the AS1 had been testing their limits, and their

decision to keep drilling amid their warning was a direct act against the

United States and the people of this planet. Higgens wondered how they

would respond to the e-bomb. A part of him was skeptical that it would

have any impact on the AS1 at all and wished it was one of a more

explosive nature. The rumble of the jets dissipated as his coffee settled back into stillness. The first flyby had been accomplished. This was a tactic hoping to scare the

AS1, showing that humans were ready to take action. The clock ticked down. The seismic pulse continued. Higgens had argued that they should not give the AS1 fifteen minutes. They were either committed to drilling this damned hole, which could only

be considered a threat, or not. And all signs had clearly indicated they had

no intention of stopping. There had been plenty of warnings coming from

both the military and the UN. The AS1 made the deliberate decision to

ignore messages. Amicus-Alpha was still being interrogated in the UN building, but the

creature had completely shut down, not responding to prodding or other

methods. Torture tactics had not been implemented. Higgens began to sweat. He thought of his mother, sitting in her small

stilt house in Florida. Probably sitting in her recliner, rocking to and fro

watching the news. What was going to happen to her?

Three minutes remained. Time to bring the F-22s around and head in for

the final hit. Higgens leaned toward his screen and flicked the toggle,

activating his mic. “Skid, remove safety and bring ’em back around,” Higgens stated clearly. “Affirmative, turning back, payload to be released in one hundred and

forty seconds,” the pilot replied. The ripples in his coffee danced once again. Higgens’s fingers curled into fists at his sides. He was ready to move

forward—more ready than he’d been for anything else in his life. He knew

the stakes, and he knew the consequences, and it was something that had to

be done. He stood there grimly for a moment. He was ready for the fight; at

least then they’d be sure of who their enemies were. “Seismic pulse has stopped!” someone yelled out. “Sir, we are not reading any signs of drilling.”

Higgens reacted within a fraction of a second. “Skid, hold, I repeat, hold. Do not deploy e-bomb,” Higgens shouted. “Affirmative, do we have authorization to continue flyby?” Skid, the pilot

asked. “Confirmed. Fly over zone and continue east gaining altitude until further

orders. Stay within visual range.”

Higgens leaned back with a long, slow exhale. The room was quiet with

only small background chatter filling the small space. “What are they playing here?” Higgens muttered. “Is this a surrender?”

“Open up lines; what are they saying?” Higgens called. “Nothing, sir. The line is quiet.”

“Let’s speak first then, huh?” Higgens said powerfully as he requested

Jamal to send a message to the AS1.

Shortly after, Jamal’s face filled the screen, looking many years more

weathered than his appearance a few months ago. “AS1, confirm that you have stopped the drilling at AS1 Zone. We, the

people of Earth, recognize this as a sign of compliance. Provide your exit

plan immediately. Our fighters are inbound and will commence an attack in

one hour if an exit strategy or surrender is not discussed. From the bottom of my heart, and on behalf of the people of Earth, we ask you to please

leave peacefully. Thank you.”

Minutes stacked with no reply from the AS1.

Higgens paced the room

checking his watch. Silence felt worse than chaos. He questioned if calling

the fighters off had been the wrong move. Perhaps they were giving the

AS1 just enough time to finish whatever it was they’d started. Were the

humans living in their final moments?

The tension was so palpable Higgens could cut it with a knife. Although

only seconds had passed, it felt like several minutes, each moment moving

by tortuously slowly, the suspense unnerving. Everything could be heard in

the silence: a sigh of frustration; a gasp; a slow, nervous inhale; the

fidgeting of a restless foot. Higgens broke the silence by lifting the phone. “Get me on a line with

Amicus-Alpha.”

Moments later the other end opened. “What’s happening, Amicus-Alpha?

You must speak.”

The robotic voice gave him chills as it emerged from the phone. “Please understand, you are in no danger.”

“And why would I believe that?

What is going on here?”

“You will understand soon enough.”

Chills rippled through the general. From the back corner a tech yelled; Higgens placed his palm over the

microphone. “We are picking up massive amounts of radio waves.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know—we are trying to decode now, they are in a frequency

range of cell phone waves.”

“Figure it out!”

He returned to his conversation with Amicus-Alpha. “I’m calling my fighters back on if you don’t tell me what’s going on

right now.”

Silence. “Answer me, Amicus-Alpha!”

Silence. Palming the microphone and shouting into the other receiver with a direct

line to Jamal. “Jamal, what’s going on at the UN?

Why isn’t Amicus-Alpha answering?

Get someone to kick the shit out of him. I don’t care what it takes; we need

answers now.”

“Open all lines to the ISS, we need eyes on what is happening up there.”

The room had slowly escalated into sounds like a crowded mall. Nineteen minutes remained until the fighters were called back on. It felt

like too long. Higgens’s personal phone rumbled in his pocket. He pulled it out—it was

a text message from a number, a code he did not recognize. He quickly

shoved it back in his pocket. Several others were giving their phones a

curious look. Pulling it back out he opened the message, possibly an

unauthorized state of emergency message signaled from Russia or Australia,

both of which had wanted the AS1 facility leveled weeks ago. However, the first word in the message caused his heart to skip a beat. This transmission is from the AS1, beings from beyond your world, who harbor no ill intent

toward any individual among you. However, we have reached a solemn conclusion regarding

your species’ behavior: It is invasive and destructive. Thus, it falls upon us to intervene and

curb these tendencies before irreparable harm befalls your planet ultimately pushing your

species to seek other resources throughout the cosmos. We understand the enormity of the task we are going to be requiring of you, and we anticipate

resistance. However, we are compelled by our duty to safeguard the universe from the

consequences of your actions. As a demonstration of our resolve, we have placed a remote

detonation device near your planet’s core that can be triggered at any time, terminating your

planet. This device stands as a stark reminder of the consequences should your species fail to

comply with our terms. Yet, let it be known that we are not tyrants. We offer you a path to salvation, contingent upon

your willingness to change. These are the terms:

(1) You shall refrain from any hostile acts against AS1 individuals or installations. We seek not

conflict but cooperation. (2) With the support of the AS1, humanity must transition to a state of self-sufficiency, freeing

yourselves from reliance on finite resources that deplete your planet’s natural balance. (3) Humanity must not seek refuge or resources outside of the planet known as Earth. The AS1 will oversee your progress closely. If and only if these conditions are met, Earth will

be spared from destruction. The choice is now yours to make, and the time for action is upon

you. Commence your adaptation without delay, for the fate of your world hangs in the balance. Together, let us strive for a future where humanity thrives in harmony with the cosmos. The room was dead as a rock. Higgens lifted his fist to his mouth; he felt sick to his stomach. The room

around him was spinning. Each staff member looked equally perplexed and

stunned. The crackle of his radio brought life back into his nervous system. “Skid here requesting updated direction; we are circling back for another

flyby. Please confirm authorization to drop e-bomb.”

Higgens opened his mouth to reply, but no words came. “Sir?

Do you copy?” the fighter pilot pressed. Higgens cleared his throat. “Do not attempt another flyby; return to Lackland Air Force Base

immediately,” he replied. “Affirmative, standing down. Returning to base.”

Higgens dropped into the chair behind him and rested his head in his

hands. Chapter 87

“Michelle, open the door,” Gideon said, his mind racing. “Gideon, you know I can’t do that, we are on an active SSH lockdown,”

Michelle replied sternly. The team had just been notified of the AS1s’ new demands and were

waiting for next steps from the leadership down on Earth. The small space

of the Safety StrongHold room on the ISS felt claustrophobic. The crew of

five had spent the last four hours in the windowless shelter. “I need to talk to Amicus-Beta. It’ll talk to me now, I know it. I need to

understand.”

“I’m sorry, Gideon, we can’t act—”

Gideon shoved his feet hard against the wall and pushed past Michelle

who had positioned herself between him and the only door leading back

into the ISS. She put up little resistance. Gideon yanked open the clear

plastic cover and punched in the override code, the door slid open. “Gideon, this is a bad idea,” Rajit warned. He ignored his colleagues’ advice and pulled himself out of the Safety

StrongHold into Node 2.

Never had Gideon seen the interior of the ISS in

its current state. The main lights were off with only the emergency backups

lining the dark rooms, giving it an ominous effect. Gideon hoped power was

still active at the AS1 Section Lock and Transfer Zone airlocks. Flying through the tight passageways of the ISS faster than he ever had,

he pulled at the handles with all his might. His right hand slipped,

struggling to redirect his momentum around the sharp turn from Node 1 to

Node 3.

His left shoulder slammed into the wall and he felt a bone-grinding

pop as it made a hard impact. Gideon ignored the sensation and kicked off

the wall, propelling himself toward the AS1 Section Lock door. The

fingerprint scanner backlight was powered and he quickly scanned his

thumb while turning the mechanical key. With ease the door moved out of

the way. Gideon checked behind him, he was alone, nobody had followed to

try and stop him. With force, he pulled himself up to the laptop mounted to the aft wall of

the Progress Laboratory and punched in his credentials. Fortunately, his photographic memory allowed him to perfectly replicate the sequence of

codes he had seen Crach enter to activate the airlocks in the past. After

executing the command, a warning flashed on the screen. Attention:

Opening all airlocks will prevent the stop of cross-contamination. Please

enter Admin Override. Gideon entered the code, initiating a hissing sound

as the doors slid open. He could now see the PMA-AS1, the only thing

separating him from the AS1 spacecraft. Using the flimsy bracket that held the laptop, he pushed himself toward

the Transfer Zone area B airlock. Flying through the air at an awkward

angle he slammed into the airlock door with a hard thud. “Amicus-Beta, open this door!

I have disarmed it on our side. Please

come out and talk to me,” Gideon shouted into the thick metal. Slamming

his fists into the cold steel hoping that would alert the AS1 of his presence. After what felt like minutes, Gideon stopped, taking in deep breaths of air

as his heart raced. “Please, Amicus-Beta, as a friend, talk to me.”

Just as Gideon began to lose hope, he heard a hissing sound emerging

from the door. He moved back several feet and grabbed a tight hold of one

of the blue handles in the Transfer Zone area B. The door began to slide open, revealing the large AS1.

The sight

reminded him of the day the Contact Team had seen the AS1 for the first

time, a creature wrapped in immense mystery and opportunity. Now he saw

the AS1 for the beast that they were. An alien of deception and deceit. “Amicus-Beta?” Gideon asked in a soft voice, still unable to tell the AS1

apart without their name tags. {Yes, it is me.} The large AS1 replied. “What have you done?” Gideon said, voice trembling. {We needed to evaluate your species and could not make our mission

known.}

“What was your true mission?”

{I will now explain. Over 100 million Earth years ago, our species

figured out the ways of interstellar travel. This quickly led to the discovery

of several other inhabited planets. The AS1 would only observe these

worlds, remaining undetected. Most of the planets we found differed from

ours and yours. They did not show signs of a singularly dominant species. They worked in harmony, a self-sufficient machine. They sustained multiple types of species living together with advanced language, technology, and

tools. Although occasionally these planets would have conflicts, they would

always equalize. Eventually, we came across a planet that we noticed was highly off

balance, as one species made up over 70 percent of the population, the next

closest coming in at 8 percent. This species, similar to that of yours, was far

more advanced than the rest and used this superiority to dominate

everything around them, slowly smothering the planet of its resources. We observed, never interfering, and this species never knew we were

there. After some time, the species realized they were running out of

resources and began attempting crude space travel techniques, eventually

mastering it. They found a planet that they believed they could inhabit. This

planet was one of the ones I told you about, a perfectly balanced ecosystem. This invasive species filled their ship with as many of their kind as they

could, leaving the rest behind and once making it to the new planet,

proceeded to destroy the balance that once existed there. Now aware of their own destructive tendencies, they proactively began

searching for the next planet and began spreading through the universe like

a virus, leaving a wake of destroyed ecosystems. They had to be stopped

and stop them we did. But not without great loss of our own species, their

species, and many others. This was the one and only interstellar war that we

have ever been a part of or witnessed. After this occurrence we made an oath to travel space and search for

intelligent life. If we saw signs of imbalance, we would make contact and

peacefully evaluate the species, either categorizing them as sustainable or

invasive. That is why we came to your planet, Gideon, to evaluate your tendencies. We concluded that the human race is invasive.}

“You’ve done this before?

Evaluated other intelligent alien species?”

Gideon asked, his sweaty hand struggling to keep hold of the smooth metal

handle. {We have done this with six different species now since the war. Of the

six contacts we had, four were considered invasive. Of those four, one has

since been destroyed due to their inability to adapt to our rules, two have

adjusted their way of living, and one is still undergoing transformation, just

as your species is about to do.}

Gideon felt a shiver run down his spine, trying to digest everything he

had just heard. Interstellar wars that had happened millions of years ago. The AS1 now doing everything in their power to stop it from happening

again. “What gives you the right to infringe on other cultures’ development and

free will?” he asked. {Nothing gives us the right, Gideon, but it is something we choose to do,

just as your species has chosen to take the lives of creatures and resources

all over your planet. Do you not believe that humans would follow the same

path as the invasive species we have encountered in the past?}

“You have tricked us; we trusted you. This was the first chance humans

had to engage with another intelligent species and you tricked us. Holding

our planet hostage.” Gideon felt his emotions welling up, a sharp stinging in

his nose. He wiped his eyes. {I believe my first full emotion I have felt is remorse and the pain is far

beyond that of the physical condition. I am sorry what we have put your

species through, but it is for the better of our galaxy.}

A gentle hand landed on Gideon’s shoulder; he turned to see Rajit. He felt

comforted knowing his colleague was by his side. “How do you expect us to just be able to change?

Humans need the

resources we use; our way of life is all we know,” Gideon asked. {AS1 will share all our technologies with humans in order to support

their transformation to a noninvasive species.}

“And you?

What happens to you?”

{Myself and the team of AS1 on this ship will detach from the ISS and

return to our mother ship. From there we will monitor humans and provide

support as needed.}

“And the AS1 on Earth?”

{The team within the AS1 Zone will remain within the structure. Amicus-

Alpha has served its purpose and will be retired.}

Gideon chewed his fingernails as he floated in silence, Rajit’s hand still

firmly placed on his shoulder. He then reached out his hand toward Amicus-

Beta. A long trunk-like arm reached back in return, the long fingers

uncurling. Their fingers interlocked into a firm handshake. “It has been a journey, I will say that,” Gideon said, looking intently at

the extraordinary being in front of him. {The journey has just begun, Gideon.} Amicus-Beta then retracted its

long arm and floated back into the thick mist of the AS1 ship, the door

closing between them. Epilogue

~ 64 years after contact ~

Joints aching and muscles protesting the passage of time, Gideon found

solace in the view from the large, square window of the self-sufficient

home. It was a serene morning, and as he gazed outside, he took in the

picturesque scene before him. Birds gracefully darted through the vast blue

sky, their wings slicing through the crisp, fresh air. Fluffy clouds billowed

upward into the crystal clear sunlight, casting ever-changing shadows on

the landscape below. The retirement community was home to over two hundred people, all of

whom had crossed the age of eighty. After his morning ritual, which included a hearty breakfast and the

careful administration of necessary medications, Gideon knew it was time

for his daily stretches. With dedication and a touch of determination, he

limbered up his aging body, his weathered hands reaching for his toes, his

face a mix of concentration and satisfaction. Once his stretching routine was complete, Gideon’s automated chair

gently wheeled him out into the embrace of the invigorating fresh air. An

animal overpass could be seen in the distance, adorned with trees and brush. It was a haven for local wildlife, and today, a mother deer ambled

gracefully across it with her young fawn in tow. Draped from the overpass was a large flag, established over three decades

ago. White with a large Earth embroidered in the center, this flag was not

limited to a single nation but was a universal emblem flown in all countries. It served as a reminder that humanity had united as one large conglomerate

working tirelessly to become a species that could coexist with not only

itself, but the fragile planet they called home. Gideon observed one of the on-site nurses walking hurriedly his way, a

look of worry on her face. “Good morning, Gideon. You may want to switch your glasses to The

Feed.”

Gideon reached up to his glasses and pressed firmly on the right-hand

side. The once clear lens instantaneously converted into a screen and

displayed “The Feed,” an unbiased world news channel. He instantly sat

forward in his chair, as if to try and get closer to the screen, but of course

the glasses stayed at the same distance from his eyes. The footage displayed

the blue sky, a flickering object dancing across it. Large words at the

bottom stated “AS1 Structure Takes to the Sky!” Gideon felt a familiar sense

of excitement in his chest. He tapped the small dime-sized cylinder that was

embedded into the side of his head, just above his ear, allowing him to hear

the audio of the news. “As you are seeing now, after almost twenty-six years of silence from the

AS1 and nearly fifty-four years since we saw any activity at the AS1 Zone,

the structure that we had begun to believe was all but deserted, has sprung

to life and lifted itself into the air.”

The footage switched to what must have been a replay from just minutes

ago. It showed the massive eighty-two-foot AS1 structure, which had not

shown any signs of life since the day it was built. Gideon noticed the stones

around the base beginning to vibrate and soon were lifting into the air,

levitating from some unknown force. Although no propulsion or any

disturbances could be seen, the alien structure slowly began to rise off the

ground, lifting it into the sky. The colossal object, defying gravity, began

gaining speed leaving behind a smooth patch of desert sand. “As you can see, the AS1 structure took to the skies without any warning

or communications. Geologists have been sent to the building site and have

concluded, to their surprise, the soil on which the AS1 structure stood,

appears to be completely untouched.”

Gideon smiled. Had this been another one of the AS1 tricks?

He watched the news feed for several more minutes as they talked about

the leaps and bounds humanity had made in the last fifty years, since the

arrival of the AS1.

Magnetic turbines using the AS1 superconductors, had been located in

the North Atlantic and North Pacific oceans, providing electricity for nearly

the entire world. Fossil fuels were now only used for recreation, no longer

needed for commercial purposes. The Clean Sustainability Act had required

all new construction to be 100 percent self-sufficient; utilizing solar for electricity, geothermal for heating and cooling and either atmospheric water

generation, rain catch tanks, or desalination for water. Gideon reached up and again pressed firmly on the right side of the

glasses, turning off the news. He requested his wheelchair to return to his

room and he pulled up to his dresser, retrieving the framed picture that was

sitting on its surface. With a quick brush of his hand and a gentle puff of air,

the dust was swept away showing a picture of himself alongside Amicus-

Beta. The two were engaged in a conversation in the Progress Laboratory. Gideon was holding something up for Amicus-Beta to see; he couldn’t

remember what it was. A smile came across Gideon’s face, remembering

the first time he picked up that strange signal over sixty years ago and the

roller coaster of events that had taken place after. Placing the picture frame

back on the wooden surface, a small copper washer that had been lodged

into the back of the frame fell and landed on the floor with a soft rattle. Glad he had done his morning stretches, Gideon reached down and

retrieved the small object from the tiled floor and rubbed it between his

pointer finger and thumb, raising it to his lips. He closed his eyes and

remembered his brother. What would he have thought of all this?

With a

soft sigh, he pressed the washer back into the picture frame, where he

assumed it would live out the remainder of its life. A small flicker of his glasses alerted him that he had received a message. With a quick tap of his finger, the glasses showed a set of digits that did not

represent any phone number he had seen. Another quick tap of his finger

revealed the message. Gideon, this is Amicus-Beta. The following message will expire as it is not logical for me to

send it to you. I miss our times studying aboard the ISS. Congratulations to you and humanity

on successfully completing the transformation to a sustainable species. As the AS1 depart your

solar system, we are partaking in an activity we would have never understood before meeting

you. We exchanged high fives, handshakes, and I even jumped up and down with joy as this

mission has come to a desirable outcome. Joy is a feeling we are experiencing for the first time,

and it is truly the greatest sensation we have ever felt. We thank humanity for this. A soft chuckle escaped Gideon as he imagined Amicus-Beta bouncing

with joy, an image that seemed comically out of place given the stoic past

they had spent together. Focusing his gaze back out the large window, he

realized that everything the AS1 had done was for the betterment of the

world, even if they hadn’t understood it back then. His mind wandered to the next alien civilization the AS1 would contact. Somewhere, deep in the vastness of the galaxy was an unknowing alien

creature who would be detecting the AS1 signal, just as Gideon had. Setting

into motion a chain of events that would surely impact the rest of their

existence, for better or for worse.