Overture (Earth Song Cycle Book 1)

by Mark Wandrey

  “Touché,” he chuckled. “We’re about a trillion miles from the chain of command, after all.” He gestured at the green moon she’d named Romulus. In the minute since she’d noticed it, the moon was already clear of the horizon and racing upwards. “Interesting moon, though.”

  “From the high def pics I’ve seen, it looks like it’s either gas or green oceans,” she explained. Lisa adjusted the carbine over her shoulder and finished the rest of her coffee before it became cold.

  “At least the climate is mild,” Wilson said. Lisa nodded. None of them liked to talk about the worst part of their voluntary exile from Earth, that the coffee would eventually run out. Somewhere out in the darkness a Komodo sloth roared.

  “Shit,” Lisa cursed. Nearby the other three soldiers stirred in their lean-tos. They’d kept around-the-clock watches for a while until they were sure the monsters wouldn’t sneak up on them. Quite to the contrary, they seemed to use their roars the way Boston commuters used their horns, often and loudly.

  “We have some time,” the colonel said. Lisa caught movement out of the corner of her eye and glanced at the lean-to support where one of the little lizards they’d started calling Howlers was watching her with idle curiosity. Just like the Komodo sloths, they had no fear of humans. The only animal life the planet seemed to support was insects and lizards. They had yet to identify anything else. The next howl was closer.

  “Hard to believe this is home now,” she said. Wilson nodded his head, then finished the last of his coffee before adding a shrug.

  “The eggheads might figure out how to reverse that thing,” he said and nodded toward the portal dais. “You never know.” Lisa glanced at it and the portal came alive, as it did four times an hour. The laser on their side began communicating with Earth. No one was standing on the other side. Another roar sounded, even closer. “Fire team up!” Wilson barked.

  The two men currently on duty came out of their lean-tos and moved over to the best-constructed shelter. It was like the others, but with a double plastic tarp cover, and they stored all their weapons and ammo there. They retrieved one of the .50 caliber rifles and ammo. Together, they mounted the platform constructed in the center of their camp and uncovered the rifle.

  A light rain was moving in, hinting at more later, and a few clouds drifted across the racing green moon. The men on the platform grumbled. The rain meant extra maintenance on the Barrett later. Inside the commander’s lean-to, his tablet beeped. Wilson took a quick sip of his coffee, getting the last drops, stowed the cup in an outer pocket, and went to retrieve the computer. He emerged a few minutes later.

  “What did they send?” she asked. The screen bathed his sharp features in an ethereal greenish glow.

  “More scientific tests,” he said.

  “Why don’t they send a scientist over?” Lisa asked.

  “You know,” Colonel Wilson said, “that’s a really good idea.” He started typing a reply.

  “Firing!” called the men from the stand. Lisa and Wilson put their hands over their ears an instant before the Barrett spoke with a ground shaking boom!

  “You get it?” Wilson asked.

  “It’s rolling around,” the shooter replied. “Hit it again?”

  “No,” Wilson said, “wait and see what happens.” A tense minute passed.

  “It’s bled out,” the observer said finally. They’d agreed a while ago they’d take as few shots as possible to conserve ammo.

  “Very good,” their commander said, retrieving his computer. “Stand down.” As the camp returned to its slumber, he finished typing his message.

  * * *

  Mindy had shared the symbols and their numerical significance with Harold when he’d come in that morning.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asked as they looked at the signal analysis. “All you have are some partial images.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” she said. Harold looked at her, his graying hair pulled into a long ponytail she didn’t think he’d ever cut off, his blue eyes examining her carefully. “The numbers are too much of a coincidence.”

  “So, if the same ETs who sent the message we’re trying to decode also sent these portals…” he said, leaving his thought hanging.

  “I know,” Mindy said. “Why?”

  “The asteroid,” Harold said, tapping a hand on the screen absentmindedly. “It’s too damned coincidental.”

  “My thoughts as well,” Mindy agreed.

  Harold laughed. “We didn’t find ET,” he said and snapped his fingers, “ET found us.”

  “I need to get back to work,” Mindy said and got up. “I have a fundraising meeting this afternoon.” Harold nodded, and she left. When she got back to her desk, an icon was flashing in the corner of the computer screen. She yelped excitedly and almost fell over her chair in her haste to click on it.

  The program she’d been running had made a partial match on the night sky from the other side! Without hesitation, she snatched up her phone and dialed.

  “Skinner,” said the voice on the other end.

  “I have a partial match,” she told him.

  “Mindy? That’s excellent. What do you need to finish the match?” Mindy considered for a moment and rolled the dice.

  “A firsthand view.” The line was silent for a long time.

  “That’s complicated.”

  “I know you have a lot of sway in this,” she said, “more than you’ll admit. Come on, Leo. I just want to see the portal first hand! Maybe looking through will help? It can’t hurt.”

  “I see your point. If we know where the other side is, it will help us make a lot of decisions.”

  “LM-245 is going to hit, isn’t it?” It really wasn’t a question.

  “I can’t say,” Leo replied. She noted he didn’t say no and felt a shiver run up her spine.

  “So, can I come?”

  “Keep working on it,” he said and cut the line. She looked up through the roof at the sky as the phone line went dead.

  * * *

  Victor woke in his small room, sweaty and disoriented from a dream he’d been having. In it, his flock reached heaven though the gateway, only to find it controlled by the military, who wouldn’t let his followers in.

  “Are you okay, sir?” someone asked from the hall.

  “Yeah,” Victor said, realizing he must have yelled out in his sleep. “Just a bad dream.” In a moment, he heard the footsteps moving away. “Just a bad dream,” he repeated.

  Before he’d laid down to nap, he’d read another report from what Duke called a spy. They had a couple of faithful who worked for the government operation in Central Park. They weren’t lucky enough to have agents, but all those government people had to eat and have their garbage hauled away. The reports of soldiers going through the portal had no doubt precipitated the nightmare. He wondered how these soldiers would be received in heaven.

  Knowing that sleep would not come to him again, he pulled on his tennis shoes and left the room. He found all his chief disciples downstairs in an office, sitting around a pot of coffee. His sudden appearance stopped their conversation dead.

  “Plotting against me?” he asked and looked around. The looks on their faces caught him completely off guard. It was Gabriel who broke the silence.

  “None of us took the name of Judas, so you’re safe for now.” After a tense second, Victor chuckled and shook his head. Kadru held out a cup of coffee, and he joined them.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “Talking about what happens as that asteroid gets closer,” Duke said. “We think people are starting to get spooked, and that’s driving new recruits.”

  “Instead of pure faith,” Paul said. Those around the table nodded in agreement.

  “We need to get the portal back,” Victor grumbled. “It doesn’t belong in the hands of those soldiers.” He took a sip of his coffee and completely missed the look that went around the table.

  They discussed mundane details about the church’s
operation for a half an hour. They noted that real donations were now enough to pay for day to day operations, and that no more large donations had appeared. Gabriel glanced at Kadru, but the action went unnoticed by any except the two who shared the look.

  Eventually, Victor went down to the auditorium and gave a somewhat disjointed sermon. He managed to wrap it up, though it took almost all his concentration. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something. Afterward, he returned to the meeting room to find his disciples gone.

  In the hall near the kitchen, he caught up with a man whose name he didn’t remember. “Have you seen any of my disciples?” he asked the man who looked both surprised and frightened.

  “Prophet Victor!” he said, confused to find himself there. He struggled with the answer to Victor’s question.

  “It’s not a complicated question,” Victor said with a little laugh that seemed to calm the man a bit.

  “No sir,” he said, “I think they all left to work on some project or another.”

  “Okay,” Victor replied; “thanks.” He went to the kitchen to see if he could find some food, the encounter quickly forgotten. But all afternoon, he couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that something was going on he wasn’t privy to.

  * * *

  The afternoon was well advanced before Mindy managed to get away from work to get some lunch. She drove to South Seattle to a little Indian place she’d been to many times before—their curry was the best she’d ever had.

  After a good lunch, she headed back to the SETI office, her mind running over and through star charts. Suddenly, she saw lights flashing in her rearview mirror.

  She immediately checked her speed and went over the last few minutes of driving. She was at least 5 mph under the speed limit and had come to a complete stop at the last sign. She looked back into the mirror. The lights were on a black SUV and emanated from its grill, not the roof.

  “That’s no police car,” she said aloud. A second later, an unusual siren went ‘Churwirp, chirp, chirp!’ Almost by instinct, she pulled off the road and onto the gravel shoulder. The SUV passed her and cut in front, making it impossible for her to easily drive away.

  Immediately, a pair of men in suits leaped from the car and walked back to hers, one on either side. They wore sunglasses and looked intense.

  “Ms. Patoy?” the one who came to her driver’s window asked, though not in the tone of a question.

  “Yes, officer?”

  “Come with us, please,” he said and pulled her door open, waving a hand toward the idling SUV, its warning lights flashing white and blue.

  “Why, am I under arrest?”

  “Not yet,” he said. “Will you come?” he asked, his voice sounding even gruffer.

  “I suppose,” she said uncertainly. He didn’t move so she growled, turned her car off and took the keys and her small shoulder bag, and climbed out. The agent took her elbow to escort her to the waiting SUV. The other agent was already there and opened the rear door.

  Mindy gazed into the SUV with concern, only to find someone already sitting there, someone she immediately recognized.

  “Miss Patoy, would you please join me?” asked agent Amanda Skeller. Mindy nodded slightly and climbed in. The agent closed the door behind her. “Please buckle up, it’s a federal regulation.” Mindy complied. “Thank you.”

  Up front, the two agents had climbed in, buckled up as their regulations required, and put the truck in gear. With a roar from the powerful engine, the driver pulled into traffic.

  “I hope you are well, Miss Patoy?” Agent Skeller asked.

  “Fine,” Mindy replied. Agent Skeller nodded and smiled. “Why am I under arrest?”

  “As Agent Michaels told you, you aren’t under arrest. I just wanted to ask you a few questions.”

  “You can ask someone questions over the phone or through an email. You don’t have to send a couple of goons in a big black SUV to arrest them.” Agent Skeller’s cheery disposition slipped. “But since that’s exactly what you did, maybe you can get on with it?”

  “Certainly. You recall two days ago I delivered some equipment to you?”

  “I do.”

  “I’d like to know who sent it to you.”

  “You don’t know?” Mindy asked. Agent Skeller shook her head ever so slightly. “Then I don’t think it’s my place to explain it to you.” Agent Skeller’s expression deteriorated further. “Why don’t you ask whoever instructed you to deliver it?”

  “That is against regulations.”

  “I see. Then we’re done here,” Mindy said and looked expectantly back in the direction of her car.

  “I don’t think so,” Agent Skeller said. “You see, my boss, Assistant Director Addams, is curious, as well. When he inquired to Washington, the answer was ‘don’t ask.’ We at the FBI don’t much like mysteries.”

  “Why would I care what you like or don’t like?” Mindy asked. Agent Skeller continued undeterred.

  “Unable to get direct answers through established channels, I decided it was better to find out who warrants a high-level government official to circumvent normal channels and appropriate FBI material that requires a security clearance to even own.” Mindy felt a little shiver of concern as the woman reached into a side pocket of the door next to her and pulled out a rather thick file before speaking again.

  “Melinda Elizabeth Patoy,” she began, listing Mindy’s birthdate, social security number, and the hospital where she was born. She glanced up at Mindy for a moment before continuing. “Graduated summa cum laude with a masters in astronomy with dual minors in physics and software engineering. Proceeded to assistant professorship at MIT but left after a year to go to work for a fledgling group called SETI, the Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence.

  “Five years ago, you purported to have received what SETI had been searching for, a signal of obviously intelligent origin sent from a star called Betelgeuse more than 500 light years away,”

  “You’ve seen too many movies,” Mindy laughed. The agent gave her a steely-eyed glare, then continued.

  “The signal is a fragment, was never received by other astronomers, and has not repeated. They labeled you a fraud for your release of information on this signal, though not with a lot of explanation as to how it was fraud.

  “With your career as an astronomer destroyed, you went back to school to major in, of all things, international supply chain logistics. You graduated with a 4-year degree in 16 months, sat for the customs broker license exam and passed it the first time. Something less than 1% of people who take that test manage, I understand. After you received your license from Customs, you went to work for a customs broker in Portland, met a man named Jake Channely and proceeded to move in with him.”

  “Do you have pictures of us sleeping together?” Mindy growled. She’d been getting angrier by the second as this faceless government goon calmly laid out her life’s details. Agent Skeller glanced at Mindy then flipped through the file as if looking for them.

  “No, I don’t see any,” she said. If it was an attempt at humor, it fell flat. Then she continued, “You lived together for almost three years before suddenly, and for no discernable reason, quitting your job, leaving your longtime boyfriend, and moving to Seattle where you went back to work for SETI at a sizeable pay cut.

  “A short time ago, you received the gift of some expensive technology that once belonged to the FBI, and that brings us up to the current day. It’s a very fascinating account, Ms. Patoy, but doesn’t explain how you have friends in very powerful places that can make things like that happen.”

  “I don’t know what you want from me,” Mindy admitted. Of course, she knew Leo Skinner had arranged for her to get the tech, but she had absolutely no idea how he’d managed it. In fact, she’d never even stopped to wonder how a scientist at NASA would have that kind of gravitas. Regardless, she had no intention of telling nosey Agent Skeller a thing. Knowing the woman had access to all her history frightened her,
but didn’t make her want to expose her friend. If anything, it made her even less likely to cause trouble for Leo.

  “Some answers would be enough, even one answer. Whom are you using that equipment to communicate with?” Mindy just stared at her. “This is a matter of national security, Miss Patoy. As you may have noticed, the world is a little nervous just now. That asteroid your compatriot in the UK spotted has every tin pot dictator rattling their cage. We’ve got crazy cults springing up all over the place. The world is becoming a powder keg, and you are playing footsie with someone using our technology.”

  Mindy sighed and crossed her arms under her breasts. She turned toward the front of the car and stared at the back of the agent driving the SUV. The two men in front had surely heard every word said in the back, though neither had so much as twitched during the entire conversation.

  “I find your lack of concern for national security matters disturbing, Miss Patoy.” Mindy gave a little cough, a barely restrained chuckle. Just then, Agent Skeller had sounded like Darth Vader in the Death Star. Mindy suddenly wished she could force choke the bitch. She turned toward the woman and used the only powers she had available.

  “Am I under arrest?” Agent Skeller regarded her coldly as the car continued to navigate traffic. Then, suddenly, the car pulled over and braked to a stop.

  “This is my card,” the agent said and held it out. Mindy regarded it, not intending to touch it. But the other woman just held it there, the time stretching on and on, and Mindy finally took it. “Call me if you change your mind and decide to be a good citizen.”

  The agents piled out of the front and pulled her door open. The agent who’d come to the door of her car offered her a hand to help her down, but Mindy refused.

  “Have a nice afternoon,” he said with a curt nod before closing the rear door, getting back into the car, and pulling away with a little splash of gravel for emphasis. Mindy snorted and looked around to see where she was. There was her car, just twenty feet behind her, parked along the road. Still shaking with pent up anger and more than a little fear, she walked back to it.