“No,” answered Kilmer quickly, knowing where Perez was headed. “I don’t think it was intentional. It was probably just the fog of war. But you don’t have to take my word for it. The soldiers who did the shooting are still with us. I would take them into custody and test for gunshot residue. You’ll find it.”
Whitman was furious. “General Allen, as of this minute, you are replacing General Ramsey as the commanding officer at Station Zero. I want you to get to the bottom of what happened here, and not just in the kill-zone. I want to know who authorized the two soldiers to carry firearms in the first place. Attorney General Kim will get in touch with you and will coordinate with the IGs of the Army and DoD to ensure you have proper legal guidance. General Ramsey will be reporting to you until further notice—at which point he will either be reinstated as CO, or permanently relieved of his command and removed from Station Zero.”
General Allen acknowledged Whitman’s orders. General Ramsey spoke immediately after and apologized for allowing this to happen under his command. He promised to help General Allen in any way he could. Druckman weighed in and thanked Kilmer for helping “clear up a grave misunderstanding.” Strauss said relatively little except that the incident was “tragic,” and that the outcome was “unfortunate indeed.”
Whitman did not seem consoled in the least. She walked over to her desk as she addressed everyone, both in the Oval Office and at HQ-2. Her voice was only a few decibels below booming—and yet she somehow avoided the impression that she was yelling.
“Let me make something clear. I’m not out for revenge. I’m not even looking for justice. I can’t afford such luxuries. The future of our country—and of this planet—is at stake. The only thing I’m looking for is the absolute certainty that once I make a decision, it will be carried out. That one of you will not screw it up simply because you think you know better.” She paused to let her words sink in. “Everyone here has a choice to make. You can commit to doing your job, or you can resign. There is no third option.”
She concluded with a piece of advice. “If you have something you need to tell me, I strongly suggest that you reach out to me before midnight tonight. You will not get a second chance. Is that understood?”
There were many Yes, Madam Presidents. General Ramsey’s might have been the loudest.
~ 56 ~
Whitman called for a ten-minute break and asked Kilmer to follow her outside. They stepped onto the West Colonnade, overlooking the Rose Garden, and talked as they strolled in the warm breeze.
“Thank you, Professor. You brought us back from the brink.”
“I almost missed it,” was all Kilmer would say about it. Then he took a deep breath. “Madam President, I don’t think what happened was simply a matter of someone disagreeing with you on whether to arm our soldiers, and then taking matters into their own hands. I think some people at Station Zero are willing to go much farther in undermining your authority—even if it risks serious escalation.”
“Do you really think someone would risk all-out war with an alien race just to prove me unfit for the presidency? These people might be overzealous at times—maybe even insubordinate in this case—but they’re not completely insane.”
“That’s just it,” Kilmer cautioned. “Put yourself in their shoes and it doesn’t seem insane. If someone genuinely believes you are unfit to lead, and that a more aggressive strategy is the right approach to dealing with this threat, what’s to stop them from engaging in even more egregious behavior than what we saw today? If their actions save the day, they’re vindicated. And if they lead to war, they’ll probably just tell themselves that Whitman was to blame for not having been more aggressive from the start—or that war was anyways inevitable. Remember, we only figured it out a few minutes ago, but someone knew all along that our soldiers were armed—and they kept their mouths shut even after two of our soldiers were shot. Their silence on this crucial matter could well have pushed us toward war.”
Whitman shook her head. “Not just a cover-up, but a dangerous gamble.”
“Yes. But they would see it primarily as an act of courage—followed by a bit of bad luck.” Kilmer paused. “I’m afraid we won’t survive this crisis unless we get into the habit of examining—constantly—how things look from the other side of the table.”
“It’s disconcerting, Professor, that you’re having to say this about people in my administration when we should be focusing on trying to understand the aliens.”
“I’m talking about all of them, Madam President. I’m talking about seeing the perspective of everyone, on every side, of every table, in every room. Nothing could be more essential.”
~ 57 ~
Kilmer had figured out what the aliens had not done—it was humans who were responsible for the shooting—but there was still no explanation for what the aliens had done. Why abduct the soldiers? When the group reconvened, NSA Garcia articulated a possible explanation. The aliens had seen the fallen soldiers and decided they might learn something from them. They hadn’t shot the soldiers, but they had been opportunistic.
Art suggested something that seemed ludicrous at first, but which was nonetheless hard to dismiss: maybe the aliens thought the dead soldiers were some sort of sacrificial offering, or just another gift package they were supposed to accept. It was a ghastly conjecture, Kilmer thought, but then again, Art ran a super-secret group in an agency with a super-terrible past. They probably had a higher bar for what was considered dreadful.
The possibility that the soldiers had survived made retrieval an even bigger priority. How much they might suffer at the hands of the aliens, even if unintentionally, was impossible to know, but there were no limits to the imagination.
Druckman, who was coordinating with the FERMAT team, and Art, who led the Hermes team, were bombarded with questions about whether it was possible to communicate the demand that the soldiers be returned.
Art explained. “The problem is that we can’t use the old playbook, which was to try a whole bunch of ideas and see if anything works. This issue requires much more nuanced communication than sending coordinates or broadcasting a countdown. The complexity vastly increases the risk of sending the wrong message. We also need to think longer term. The more signals or patterns we send now, the harder it will be for them to figure out how to put everything together once we start trying to teach them Hermes. My advice comes down to patience. Give us until tomorrow to launch Hermes 1.0. If it works, we can build on that. Hopefully, we can get it to the point where we can have complex conversations.”
It wasn’t a satisfying answer, but it was sensible. Nor were there satisfactory answers to other looming questions. Had the aliens come out of their spacecraft using the blinding light as cover? Did they use some other technology to extract the packages? Why hadn’t they picked up all the packages? A list of what was retrieved by ET-1 showed no obvious pattern—except that every book had been taken.
“It’s quite possible they have no clue what any of these things are,” NSA Garcia cautioned. “And the packages were picked up pretty quickly. It might have all been impulse shopping.”
Whitman moved to end the meeting. The priority, she announced, was to get Hermes up and running. “Art, I want something ready by tomorrow morning. Whatever it takes.” She looked around the room. “It’s not just about the two soldiers. There are a lot of questions we need answered.”
They were back to square one—no information, no leads, no obvious next steps. The aliens had danced, but all too briefly.
“Madam President, might I raise one more issue?” Silla asked.
“Yes, Agent Silla.”
“The aliens appear to be significantly more technologically advanced than us. But a curious pattern has emerged. Ever since the detection, we have taken the initiatives and they have merely reacted. We came up with a language to send coordinates. We created the timer. We sent care packages. We put our people on the dance floor first. I’m left wondering why they haven’t launched any
initiatives of their own. If they’re so advanced, maybe they should be the ones looking for ways to communicate. Why aren’t they proactive?”
No one had any good answers.
Silla turned to Kilmer. “Professor, do you think we risk seeming too eager in our overtures? Might they get the impression that we’re desperate or subservient?”
“Yes, there is that risk—and we should be mindful. But there could be other explanations for their behavior as well.”
“Such as?” Whitman asked.
“Well, fear, for example. And there is at least one fear that tends to afflict the strong even more so than the weak—the fear of losing everything. Whether ET-1’s lack of initiative stems from a sense of superiority—or from a sense of vulnerability—we just don’t know yet.”
Strauss objected. “They’re the ones who traveled all this way. They didn’t have to do that, Professor. What could they have to feel vulnerable about?”
“I’m not sure. But even the coolest cat in town will hesitate before asking the prettiest girl in school to the dance. In fact, he might hesitate most of all. The cool cat has the most to lose.”
“You think they fear…what? Rejection?” Strauss asked, with a hint of exasperation.
“No, Mr. Secretary. People don’t fear rejection; they fear what rejection leads to. They fear pain. And the ones who fear pain most of all are the ones who have never felt it before.” He paused. “Or those who have felt it so acutely that they will never allow themselves to be vulnerable again.”
~ 58 ~
Heirs of Herodotus by D. Kilmer.
Excerpt from Chapter 10.
Greed, fear, and grievances—these have been the causes of war throughout human history. Across the centuries, across the globe, and across the many faultlines that have divided human beings since social constructs and social categorization took hold, the fundamental drivers of war have remained constant. Many other factors impact the duration and intensity of war—as well as how it ends—but if not for want, insecurity, and vengeance, humanity might have avoided the scourge of war.
Greed and grievance have fueled many a conflict, but it is fear that has contributed the most to human suffering. It is the hardest to root out. It is the most difficult to ignore. It composes the most alluring cry with which to rally citizens and soldiers. It provides the easiest moral justification for the killing of other human beings. No concession, no apology, no threat can put deep-seated fear to rest.
Those among us who hope to put an end to war—not only a specific war, but to war itself—must focus more of our effort, intellect, and creativity on the element of fear. The greatest threat to security has always been—and remains—the perception of insecurity. We must find a way to resolve this paradox before it resolves itself through Armageddon.
~ 59 ~
Secretary Strauss had butted heads with Whitman from the very start of her presidency, and his friends had been advising him to leave the administration for months. On at least two occasions, he had almost resigned, only to decide against it at the last minute. It was just a matter of time, he figured, before he called it quits—or Whitman asked him to leave. Yes, he had presidential aspirations of his own, but he was also tired of being the lone voice of dissent on too many decisions.
That changed—for Strauss, at least—when the aliens showed up. As a third-generation soldier and the son of a Navy Cross recipient, Strauss knew there were times in life when you were duty-bound to stay in the fight, no matter what the cost. This was one of those times. The president might not follow his advice, but she needed to hear it. They disagreed often, but Strauss knew that Whitman didn’t give anyone a seat at the table unless she respected their opinion. Whitman could not be bullied, but she could be influenced. That meant he had to stay.
Despite what Whitman or Perez believed—and Strauss knew they believed it—he had never proposed that the president be impeached. He had been in the room when it was discussed—on at least a few occasions—and he had not denounced the idea. Strauss was smart enough to know that his silence could be construed as support—and he now realized it had been a mistake to leave that impression. Things had gotten out of hand. He had fought with Whitman publicly, failed to defend her privately, and made no secret of the fact that he believed he would make a better president, leading people like General Ramsey to surmise that he might support efforts to undermine the president’s authority. It was supposed to have been a no-lose proposition for Strauss: put pressure on Whitman to shift her policies while laying the foundation for a future presidential campaign. What’s the harm?
The events at Station Zero had answered that question in dramatic fashion. Not everyone understood that there were limits to how far you push your own agenda—and lines you should never cross. Those lines had been crossed.
This was what Strauss was thinking about when he received the call from Vice President Nielsen. The two had been close colleagues in the Senate, and Nielsen had played no small part in bringing Strauss into Whitman’s administration, but there was no hint of friendship in the voice Strauss heard over the phone.
“If you had something to do with this, Strauss, I am going to personally make sure you pay for it.”
“Zack, you know what I think of Marianne’s policies and her approach. You also know that I would never do something like this. You need to make sure the president understands that.”
“No, Strauss. You need to make sure of that. I’ve warned you before about playing with fire—that the sparks you let fly in every direction will someday burn down your own house. Whether you stay or go is between you and the president now. If she asks for my opinion on it, it will not go well for you, so don’t let it come to that. And one last thing. We’re friends, Strauss. But if you come after her again—while you’re in the White House or from the outside—you’re going to see a side of me that you have had the good fortune to never witness.”
By 11:45 p.m., Whitman had received two phone calls and made three decisions.
General Ramsey called first and admitted to arming the two soldiers. He explained that he had done so out of concern for his troops. He apologized and told Whitman that no one else had participated in that decision.
The second call was from Strauss. He told Whitman that he had not been involved in any decision to arm the soldiers, but that it was possible Ramsey had gotten the impression that he would approve of such actions. For that, Strauss said, he was sorry. He acknowledged that he continued to see things differently from the president, and offered to resign if Whitman preferred a defense secretary who was more aligned with her thinking.
“Is that your preferred outcome, Strauss?” Whitman asked bluntly. “Do you wish to resign?”
Strauss responded candidly. “No, Madam President. I prefer to stay. And I want to help you succeed.”
Whitman’s first decision was to remove General Ramsey from Station Zero. General Allen would stay on as commanding officer. Her second decision was to reject Strauss’s offer to resign. She told him that she still valued his counsel, and that his voice was important because he disagreed with her. She didn’t mention her second reason for keeping him around: it was better for Strauss to do his complaining from inside the administration than from the sidelines. As LBJ had so eloquently said about J. Edgar Hoover: It's probably better to have him inside the tent pissing out than outside the tent pissing in. Whitman’s final decision was to recall Director Druckman back to Washington. He had other responsibilities, ones that did not involve ET-1, and it seemed wise to separate Strauss and Druckman for a while.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the White House, Kilmer had asked Silla to stay the night. She had just enough clothes left in her duffel bag to say yes. Their first hour in the Lincoln Bedroom was spent in silence. Silla sat working on the bed while Kilmer sat quietly at the desk, thinking.
Four big questions. What drives them? Why did they visit now? Why are they being so hesitant? How might humanity avoid disaster for the decades
and centuries to come?
Something tied everything together—but what?
By midnight, Kilmer had reached a frustrating conclusion: no amount of cognitive effort would help him figure this out. He needed more information. We have to talk to them.
He looked over at Silla, who was on her laptop, fully immersed in her work. He knew that, sooner or later, he would make the decision to go to Station Zero. The idea of leaving her was becoming a less pleasant thought with every passing hour, but it had to be done.
He crawled onto the bed and snuggled up next to her. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then went back to ignoring him. A few minutes later, he was asleep. Silla kept working, but in between calls and emails, she slept in his arms. It was the best sleep either of them could ever remember having.
~ 60 ~
Day 17.
By 1:00 p.m. on Day 17, human beings had taught the aliens five words. A human, a dog, a small tree, a stack of books, and a jeep had each entered the kill-zone after a brief countdown. A bright spotlight was shined on each object for five minutes, while a unique digital signature was simultaneously broadcast. After this was repeated for three rounds, the aliens started to broadcast back the unique signature—the “word” associated with the highlighted object.
By 11:30 p.m., the aliens had learned over one hundred words—including ET-1—and were now able to add new words to their vocabulary with only a ten-second spotlight needed per word. The error rate was minuscule.
Day 18.
By 10:00 a.m. on Day 18, the aliens had learned verbs, including run, jump, throw, catch, fall, and eat.
By 5:00 p.m., they had learned thirty-five verbs, ten colors, and over two dozen adjectives and prepositions, including large, small, fast, slow, round, square, broken, torn, on, near, strong, weak, soft, and hard. Many of the lessons required the contrasting of two objects, two characteristics, or two actions. To teach “large” and “small,” for example, two identical objects, one larger than the other, were introduced simultaneously, and the spotlight/broadcast was alternated between them.
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