NISSY

by JOHN PAUL CATER

  “Here you go, Jason,” he said, wheeling it up to the Gurney. “You’re good to go, no longer bedbound. The wheelchair was that giant leap for mankind you needed. You almost said it, I brought it.”

  Jason smiled at the surprise and with Amy’s help lowered himself into the chair.

  “Thank you, Amy, Blake. Now please take me home, Jen. I have seven years of life to catch up on. And I’d like to give thanks to my Maker so is it okay if we stop by a church on the way. I don’t know why but I guess it’s the newly resurrected me feeling the need to atone for my previous doubts.”

  Lipinski pulled Jen aside as they left.

  “Jen, I’ll have the EMS van take you to a church and then drop you by your house. I need to get back to N2 with Amy. We’ll take Jason’s car. You take Jason to the van and get him home.”

  “Oh, Mom?” Amy said, digging through her purse for keys. “Is there a rescue ship ready to retrieve the MEP? Does one even exist?”

  Wheeling Jason down the hallway, she stopped and turned back. “For that MEP, no. We planned for the test MEPs to incinerate upon atmospheric entry, but there is one on a launch pad at the Cape awaiting your mission. Don’t know if it’s ready to fly but you can call Mars Ops Center and ask.”

  “Thanks, Mom. See you at home. And please tell those reporters that we had a come-to-Jesus talk and all is well. Earth is not doomed as was reported. Make something up if you must---you know, disinformation.”

  Chapter 27

  THE ARRIVAL

  O nce again inside the dome, Amy and Lipinski sat over coffee and discussed the best way to bring N2 to earth. Although both had worries that the sudden reversal in its mind-set could be nothing more than a ploy, they had just witnessed Jason’s miraculous recovery. The fact was that N2 was coming and would be entering our atmosphere in three months. In order to respond in good faith, they had to ensure its safe arrival or face Nissy’s wrath.

  By mutual consent, Amy made a call to the Mars Ops Center.

  “Mars Ops Control Center, Tom speaking.”

  “Hello, Tom. This is Amy Godwin calling from MOE.”

  “Well hello, Amy Godwin. We were just talking about you. You’re quite famous now you know, defusing that alien invader crisis.”

  “Oh, so the word’s already out?”

  “Yes, your mom is a powerful woman. We march to her drumbeat whenever she speaks. She just released from our Public Information Office an ‘all clear’ alert on that renegade escape pod heading our way and boy are we glad. Is that what this is about?”

  “Yes, sir, indirectly. Do we have a MEP recovery vehicle on a launch pad ready to fly?”

  The line went silent as he yelled out the question to his staff. Moments later, he returned.

  “The answer is ‘No, not for another four months,’ Amy. Sorry, all the work at the Cape is currently focusing on the MTS-1, why?”

  “We have to safely intercept that MEP before it burns up in our atmosphere and takes the experiment with it.”

  “Sorry, but I guess you’re SOL on that. What would happen if it did?”

  “I’m afraid earth would not live through it. There would be no MTS-1 launch.”

  “Wow! You’re dealing with some heavy consequences, Amy. Remember though, what I told you, Jen Godwin is a powerful woman.”

  She hung up and sighed with a frown.

  “No, there’s no ship. The test pods were set to burn up. Nobody expected there would be a passenger. What should I do, Blake?”

  “Call your mom.”

  She hesitated in thought, idly spinning the bracelet on her wrist. “Yep. You’re right. No time for heroes now.”

  “Hello, Mom, we have a problem and I need your help.”

  “Sure, hon, what can I help you with?”

  “First, how’s Dad?”

  “He’s better, but resting now. Still weak from the coma, he headed straight for the music room, played a few pieces, pretty well I might add, and then reclined on the sofa upset that he couldn’t wheel the chair upstairs. He’s been asleep for a while. Wants you to come home. Now what’s up?”

  “We need a rescue ship for the MEP when it arrives. Without it, the MEP will surely not make it to earth. It will---”

  “Burn up in the atmosphere, I know. Well, Amy I have your back. A few days ago, foreseeing this emergency, I switched the MST-1 workers to the ARRS, Autonomous Robotic Rescue Ship.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mom. You are my angel.”

  “And you’re mine, sweetheart, but there’s more to know. Here’s the plan.”

  “I’m all ears. Go.”

  “In a few days the ARRS will lift off at quadruple the pod’s current speed, automatically dock with it, allow time for passenger transfer, then return to earth, and land at a nearby pad at Vandenberg AFB near Lompoc, California. Your alien pirate should deboard at Vandenberg Space Port in about three weeks after the ARRS travels well beyond the programmed capture point to catch and speed it home. A little twist don’t you think, bringing it back for Christmas. Courtesy of yours truly, my dear.”

  “That’s great, Mom. Are the plans for the ARRS firm enough to advise N2 of them?”

  “Barring a national emergency, they are.”

  “Good, Then we’re set. What day?”

  “Christmas Eve, if all goes well. I know our workers will be upset, but the ARRS can drop right down on California for an upright landing, on that day. The alignment will be perfect.”

  “Thanks again. I’ll be home in a while. Love you.”

  Overhearing her conversation, Lipinski had restarted the console and readied it to send a message.

  “When is it landing? You sounded excited,” he asked, eager to see the results of his experiment.

  “Christmas Eve. I think she planned it for the maximum PR effect.”

  “That or a time of diverted interest hoping that the world will be preoccupied with holiday activities,” he countered.

  “No matter what, I’ll be glad to have it off our radar and finally in our grasp.”

  He scoffed and shook his head. “You recently told me to be careful with what I wish for. May I remind you to do the same?”

  She tilted her head, evaluating his advice, then smiled. “Oh, I’m not that trusting, Blake. I plan to have a full array of weaponry hiding in plain sight when that thing walks out of that ship. That will appease both me and the public.”

  Relieved, he sighed. “That should do it. Unless the LTS was seeded with---”

  Suddenly she moaned and grimaced, then reached to her head and began to rub her temples.

  “Are you feeling all right, Amy,” he asked, concern growing on his face.

  In obvious pain, she closed her eyes and bowed her head, ignoring his worry.

  “I’m sorry, Nissy, I was just posturing. I would never do anything to N2 without provocation. You know that from Matthew: Chapter 7-Verse 12. The show of force is also for N2’s safety in case there’s another Lee Harvey Oswald in the crowd. Look up JFK.”

  Moments later, she relaxed her face, dropped her hands to her side, and smiled as if nothing had happened.

  He backed off with arched brows and confused, stared at her. “What the hell just happened, Amy? Is that the burning your mom once told me about? Did it just target you?”

  “I-I guess so. I’ve warned other folks about offending Nissy but never thought I’d do it myself. You saw my dad after it happened to him. He either didn’t know better or was too stubborn to atone so he spent the last six years in hell.”

  “Here,” he said, hurriedly rolling his chair away from the keyboard, “you’d better send a message to N2 to confirm your peaceful intent. This shit’s getting real.”

  Fearing he was right, she pulled her chair up to the keyboard and stared blankly at the screen.

  “Tell it about the ARRS and Christmas Eve,” he whispered aside.

  N2, Amy here. Good news! Plans for your rescue ship have been finalized. In about ten earth days, a pilotless robotic s
paceship from earth will approach and dock with your MEP. Once it docks, please transfer into it as quickly as possible, and follow its instructions for your trip to earth. You will land not far from here on December 24. When the ramp drops down at your destination, I’ll be waiting at the bottom to greet you and welcome you to earth. Do you understand?”

  Pressing F1, she glanced back at him. “Think that was okay? Did I forget anything?”

  “No, spot on, Amy. Besides who can say what’s right or wrong at this point? Either our team goes down in a blaze of glory and rewrites history books or we fail and humanity fails with us. This juncture in scientific achievement was inevitable, and if we hadn’t done it someone else would have.”

  “Yeah, talk about trailblazing a path without a compass,” she said, glancing impatiently at the screen, “we could write the book. But with all major scientific advances come risks---quantifiable ones. We’re now opening Pandora’s Box with unknown risks, releasing a new life form into the world. Hope we’re not sorry.”

  “But remember only hope remains when we close the box.”

  “Oh, there’s its response,” she said, turning toward the screen, “returning sooner as it nears. Hmm. Let’s see.”

  In silence, they read the text.

  Yes, I understand the process. It is easy, Amy. When I arrive I will be most eager to meet you, Blake Lipinski, Jason Godwin, and most importantly my Creator, Nissy. Will the rescue ship have a data link to ground control? Or to you?

  “Do you know for sure?” he asked, eyeing Amy.

  “No, but I doubt it’ll have a passenger accessible one. Probably a voice link, though,” she answered, already typing.

  N2, there will assuredly be a voice link to ground control if you need instructions or help. Can you speak our English language? Nissy speaks over 6900 earthly languages including English. Ask it to teach you ours.

  Minutes later while they waited for the next reply, to the right of the screen a barely audible hiss emanated from the control console’s speaker. They flashed their attention to the console and suddenly from the speaker the raspy sound of a youngster’s voice spoke.

  “Herro.”

  They jumped, looked wide-eyed at each other, and began to laugh.

  “What the hell was that?” Lipinski asked as the hiss persisted.

  “I don’t know, Blake. Maybe some kid got a Christmas present early. Sounded like a walkie-tal---”

  The same voice speaking slowly, now at full volume, interrupted her.

  “This is N2 cawring you. Having trouber speakin your rangage with muscers I never use. But I can tark on the voice rink in the ARRS if you can unnerstand me. Can you?”

  “Bingo!” he said excitedly, leaning back in his seat. “Even though it seems to have trouble pronouncing a few phonemes, we can converse without a translator machine between us when it lands. That evens the playing field.”

  “And it is talking fairly clearly through its simian-like mouth it described. But I still wonder how our world will accept it. It would be scary enough to see a talking ape, but then throwing in an alien body could be the tipping point for panic.”

  “I just don’t know, Amy. We’ll have to wait and see. Now grab that microphone, push the talk button, and let’s bid it a safe trip. It’s getting late and I should head home.”

  She put the microphone to her mouth.

  “Yes, N2, we can understand your speech perfectly. Thank you for trying. Now we must sign off. We will expect your safe arrival on the 24th of December.”

  * * *

  Two days later, the ARRS launched and passed into history with little notice. Earth’s population had gone back to normal, living without worries of extinction, absorbed in the upcoming holidays with family get-togethers, shopping and festivities.

  NASA had resumed the countdown to MTS-1’s launch, now only three months away. All activities were on schedule and go for flight.

  In the Godwin household, Jason had improved dramatically and with exercise and patience had resumed control of Qubital-God, Inc. Profits and markets soared with news of his return.

  Jen as the new director of NASA’s Mars Colonization mission was rarely seen at home. Between weekly flights to Cape Canaveral, she spent almost every waking moment in the labs and her office at MOE.

  Amy while eagerly anticipating the ARRS landing, spent most of her time training on MOE simulators and at the Mars Desert Simulation Facility in Arizona. And, as expected, she was in the top of her group with whatever she tried.

  At Biodna Labs, Lipinski and his crew were back at work refining the DNA sequencing process, speeding it up and making it less subject to error; the holy grails of synthetic genetics. A new breakthrough expected to turn the field on its head was only months away. But before that announcement Blake Lipinski had one very important experiment to put to bed. The culmination of decades of brilliant research would come three weeks later.

  Chapter 28

  CONTACT

  T he sun rose over a cold, wispy-clouded blue sky on Christmas Eve. Below, the small town of Lompoc, California bordering Vandenberg Air Force Base had swollen to twice its size in advance of the ARRS landing. Most of the residents thought it strange that their city of 43,000 was so crowded for Christmas but assumed the crowd was for another super-secret satellite launch from the nearby spaceport. In addition, the sudden appearance of government-tagged vehicles ranging from trucks and jeeps to armored personnel carriers gave it away as one of the most secretive operations in recent times. Curious folks in town had started whispering questions and spreading rumors about the event but found that no one really knew for sure. Even workers from the nearby base that usually knew had no insider information and that sparked even more rumors.

  It was the most closely guarded secret in NASA’s history and rightfully so; a potentially hostile alien species from Mars was about to land and set foot on earth in a little less than three hours.

  In a clearing of trees near the San Antonio Creek, a barren parcel of hard-baked sand had been painted with a large white circle, the outer ring of a bull’s eye. At its center was a huge red spot, the object for the ARRS to find and target for landing.

  The narrow dirt road leading into the clearing was busier than it had been in decades as a caravan of empty military buses entered and slowly circled the perimeter outside the white ring then stopped bumper to bumper, providing a visual and physical shield from unexpected intruders. Then on a signal from the unit commander in a long motor pool van idling on the red spot, the drivers left their buses, loaded into the van, and rode away leaving nothing but a trail of dust in their wake. The plan to minimize the number of witnesses to the landing was in progress and working well.

  “What time is the ARRS scheduled to land?” asked Lipinski, scanning the terrain from the rear of the Puma. Growing impatient, he felt the rough ride of the APC’s stiff suspension churning his stomach.

  “Fifteen hundred hours give or take a few minutes. Two hours from now.”

  “Civilian time, please, Jen. I have enough on my mind without decoding military time.”

  Jason glanced back at him. “C’mon, Blake, get with the program. Use your head for something other than a hat rack. Just subtract twelve hours and you get three. And where in the world did you get that Indiana Jones topper? Is it squeezing your head too much?”

  “From my closet. In case we lose the rescue ship then I’ll be leading the Raiders of the Lost ARRS. Good, huh?”

  The cabin roared with groans and stifled laughter easing their anxiety as they rode on toward the San Antonio Creek landing site.

  There were three APCs in their small caravan; the leading one carried a driver and a small cadre of military sharpshooters while the one behind them had only a driver and was reserved for transporting N2 back to the base for in-processing. Their APC, the middle one, carried Amy, Jen, and Jason Godwin, Blake Lipinski and Carter Jameson, Director of MOE where it all began. And of course there was the young driver, unassuming, the
perfect chauffeur that no one noticed.

  “So how much further is it to the landing site, driver?” Amy asked, checking her watch.

  “About fifteen miles. We should be arriving shortly.”

  She flinched, then turned and stared at him, trying to see his face from the rear.

  “Your voice sounds so familiar. Do I know you, sir?”

  “Yes, but only by phone, Amy. I’m Seth Binder from the Goldstone Deep Space Network. Remember, we talked? I just couldn’t miss this landing after being so involved at the dish, reading every message between you and the pod. I talked my boss into letting me come since I already knew about N2 and I hate cliffhanger soap operas. In fact, my buds at the dish had a contest over what the soap should be called. It ended in a tossup over Days of our Synthetic Lives, As the Pod Turns, and All My Chemicals. Do you mind that I’m here?”

  Grinning coyly, almost laughing, she said, “No, of course not, Seth, but you’re still a butthead and now you’re a stalker too. I’ve always wanted to meet an ex-football-hero astronomer. My life is complete.”

  Jen and Jason smiled at each other over their sarcastic banter, seeing a connection that started as theirs did long ago. He bent over, kissed her cheek, and whispered in her ear, “Remember those wonderful days long ago, honey. We were so lost in love we didn’t realize it until later.”

  She smiled and whispered back, “Jason, we didn’t have a 55-million mile gap between us back then. That could make for a difficult courtship. But I guess love is love no matter the distance; a spooky entanglement of hearts without boundaries though I do see a possibility brewing.”

  “Mom, Dad, break it up. What are you two whispering about? Anything I should know?” Amy asked, frowning, bothered by the distraction.