by PP Corcoran
With an orbital period around Mars of only zero point three two Terran days, it did have the effect of causing sea sickness on many new arrivals to the base, but not Patricia Bath. She had been on Phobos for what seemed most of her adult life.
Stickney had been her first choice on graduating top of her language course at MIT, and she had never looked back. As head of department, she was intimately involved in interpreting the data brought back from the Rubicon cavern so many light years away orbiting Proxima Centauri.
Patricia shook herself out of her melancholic mood as her Comm beeped for attention, “Bath.”
“Patricia, I’ve been running that new interpretation cipher of yours…” It was Vince Kealey, a few years older than Patricia but content to let her be the boss. It allowed him to get on with the more serious work of decoding everything and anything he could get his hands on while avoiding the spectrum of paperwork that Patricia dealt with on a daily basis.
“Yes, Vince?”
“Well, I made a few tweaks and it looks like we’ve cracked it. We’ve significant matches across the board and should be able to start producing good translated copy by early tomorrow.”
Patricia smiled. “Not bad for an old man, Vince. Even one whose brain clouds over with old age every now and then.”
Vince laughed down the Comm. “You’re not too old to be put across my knee, young lady,” replied Vince. “So get your behind down here and take over so an old man can get some well-deserved rest.”
“Yes, Granddad. Be there shortly.” Taking one last look at Mars whizzing past only nine thousand kilometres away, Patricia turned and headed back toward her lab and the mass of data awaiting her.
#
Office of the President of the Terran Republic - Geneva - Earth
After a soft knock, the door to Bartholomew McMullen’s office opened. An aide ushered Adm. Olaf Helset through the door. Olaf marched in, halted short of the President, who had risen from his seat at the head of the small round conference table, and saluted him.
“Please join us, Admiral.” Bartholomew indicated a seat at the table where two others were already seated. “You know Senator Gillian Rae and Senator Thomas Crothers, my Secretary of Finance.”
Olaf nodded towards both politicians by way of greeting. When he’d been requested to meet with the President, he had assumed it was about the Rubicon Cavern (as the area where the Block Houses had been discovered was now known). That would explain why Senator Rae was here. But what was the Secretary of Finance doing here? Well, the only way to find out was to get on with the meeting, Olaf supposed.
“Admiral,” began Bartholomew. “I’ve invited both Gillian and Thomas to join our little discussion today. We’re just waiting for two more guests before we begin.”
Olaf remained standing and addressed the President. “Sir, with all due respect, perhaps you’d like to tell me why I’m here and what the meeting is all about?” Olaf’s intonation conveyed he had better things to do than shoot the breeze with a bunch of politicians.
“Patience, Admiral, I beg you. Now, please take a seat.”
With an audible sigh, Olaf sat down, somehow managing to sit as far from the three politicians as the table allowed. This should be an interesting meeting, Bartholomew thought to himself.
Another knock on the door. The same aide ushered in a reasonably tall woman and a willow wisp, slightly greying and overweight man into the room before closing the door behind them. Bartholomew stood and approached the woman. “Ah, thank you for coming, Dr Bath, and you Professor Ballantine. Perhaps we could get started. Please be seated.”
As his new guests found seats, Bartholomew composed his thoughts. Damn, he should have retired when he had the chance. “If you’d like to begin, Dr Bath, I don’t know if you have met all my guests before, so I’ll do the honours - this is Senator Rae,” he indicated towards Gillian then moved on to Thomas, “and Senator Crothers and finally Admiral Olaf Helset.”
“Thank you, sir.” Patricia directed her gaze around the table as she continued, “I am Dr Patricia Bath, head of linguistics at Stickney Base on Phobos, and this,” indicating Ballantine, “is Professor George Ballantine, head of xenobiology here at Geneva University.” George nodded around the table at the introduction, “Okay… eh… well I’ll cut to the chase” Patricia paused “since successfully interpreting the language found in the Rubicon Cavern…”
Olaf interrupted her flow with a strangled “What?! What did you just say?”
Patricia regarded him steadily and repeated herself “Since successfully interpreting the language…”
Olaf turned a brilliant shade of red “That’s what I thought you said, Doctor,” throwing Bartholomew a look that would have stopped an elephant in its tracks, he looked back at Patricia. “And when did this happen?”
“Some five months ago, Admiral,” replied Patricia.
If Olaf could have gotten any redder, he would have. He stood and approached Bartholomew. “Why wasn’t the TDF informed? Who decided to withhold this vital information, it could mean the life or death for Earth –”
Without rising from his seat, Bartholomew cut the Admiral off in mid-flow. “I did, Admiral. Now, sit and let the doctor finish her brief.”
Olaf hesitated, and for a moment Bartholomew thought he was going to continue, instead Olaf retook his seat and sat there like a volcano on the brink of erupting.
Bartholomew took a breath before turning to Patricia. “Please continue, Doctor.”
Patricia looked from Bartholomew to the admiral and back to Bartholomew, took a deep breath and continued. “Thank you, Mr President. Now, as I was saying, having successfully interpreted the alien language we began cycling through the accumulated data brought home by the Magellan. The sheer volume of information is staggering. The original estimate of a decade to translate everything may not be far off, there’s just so much of it; but finding the index to each Block House has made our life much easier. So far, we have managed to translate five per cent of the data, but we have been able to make some reasonably good assumptions.”
“WAGs, you mean, Doctor?” interrupted Olaf. Patricia looked confused. “Wild Ass Guesses” said Olaf helpfully.
“Ah, well yes, Admiral. But we think we have the data to support our guesses,” she replied pointedly. “It seems pretty obvious that this alien civilisation was more advanced than ours. They had already explored parts of the galaxy. We have discovered at least seventeen different planetary maps from their astrological database, some of which we have been able to verify using our own known data. I think it would be safe to assume that they managed to colonise some of these worlds. Their medical databases have also revealed insights into their physical make-up.”
This time Gillian Rae interrupted. “You mean we know what they looked like?”
Patricia’s face broke into a large grin. “Yes, Senator.” At that, an image appeared in the holo cube in the centre of the table. All eyes in the room fixated on the 3D image of an alien being.
It was approximately one metre forty centimetres tall. Covered in light brown hair, not quite as thick as fur, two round eyes were set in a slightly pointed head with the ears mounted higher up the head than a human. The mouth and nose protruded slightly, a short thick neck leading to a barrel chest with two arms bending at an elbow and two legs with knee-like joints. All in all, it looked like a relative of Earth’s monkeys.
After a moment, Patricia continued, “That’s right, ladies and gents. This image is very familiar to us, so much so that we may have to reassess our theory of evolution.” You could have heard a pin drop in the room.
“Dr Ballantine and his team at Geneva are sure that the DNA similarity between our alien friends and ourselves is not a coincidence. How could two species evolving in two different parts of the galaxy have so many points within the DNA helix which match? The odds are astronomical.” Patricia paused for a second to allow the minds of the others in the room to grasp the implications of what she h
ad just said, “It’s our belief that we have a common ancestor.”
Olaf was going that shade of red again. “Whoa, stop right there, Doctor. Are you saying that we are descended from aliens? Because I didn’t realise that today was April Fool’s Day.”
Patricia turned to the President. “Perhaps Professor Ballantine would be better at explaining this; it is his field after all.”
With a nod from Bartholomew, Professor Ballantine stood up and cleared his throat. “Mr President, twenty-five or so million years ago, for some reason we still can’t explain, the rhesus monkey broke away from our particular chain of evolution. It has, also for an unknown reason, ten markers in its DNA helix which really should not be there. We have been at a loss to explain them.”
“Some three million years ago the chimpanzee also broke away from our evolutionary chain; it is our closest DNA match with something like ninety-five per cent duplication of human DNA. I have concluded that both the rhesus monkey and the chimpanzee were failed attempts to produce an intelligent creature. I believe that the aliens millions of years ago manipulated our DNA to produce as near a version of themselves as possible but tailored to the Earth’s environment.” His conclusion met with a deafening silence. It hung in the air.
Bartholomew’s voice sliced through the silence “Thank you Professor Ballantine. Perhaps Dr Bath, you would continue?”
“Mr President, the data is still sketchy but it would appear that these aliens originated in the constellation of Orion, from a planet orbiting the star we call Saiph, some 2,200 light years away.”
“That’s a hell of a long way to travel just to experiment with our DNA, don’t you think?” asked Gillian. “Surely there’s a more suitable planet closer to their home star?”
“Senator,” replied Ballantine. “We are working on the premise that the seventeen planetary maps so far discovered in the Saiph database were also locations where they were experimenting with the DNA of indigenous life forms.”
“But why?” interjected Olaf. “If their goal was colonisation, why not just send a ship full of – what did you call them – Saiph? It’s certainly a lot quicker than waiting for a new species to evolve.”
“Because they wanted to leave something behind, Admiral. A legacy if you will,” said Patricia.
Olaf looked at her in puzzlement. “I’m sorry, Doctor, leave something behind? A race that advanced doesn’t just vanish overnight,” he looked around the room at the others, “for all we know they are probably still out there somewhere.”
Patricia looked directly at the Admiral and knew that what she was about to say was going to change the future path of humanity. “That I doubt, Admiral, because they were at war… At war with a foe who was not out to conquer them but to annihilate them. To erase the Saiph’s very existence from the galaxy. And the enemy was winning.”
#
As the aide closed the door behind him, Bartholomew turned to his remaining guests. The two scientists had left, leaving only the two Senators and one Admiral. Thomas was staring intently at his coffee cup
“Penny for them, Thomas,” asked the President.
Thomas had been noticeably silent throughout the briefing. Looking up, he paused, then said, “Mr President, although the contents of the briefing are leaving my head swimming, I keep returning to the same question.”
“Go on, Thomas,” urged Bartholomew gently.
“It’s not why did the Saiph manipulate life on Earth and other planets, or even how such an obviously advanced race could lose a war… It’s why am I here? I understand the admiral represents Defence, Senator Rae – Science and Technology. But me? All I do is manage budgets.”
Bartholomew began to chuckle, to the amazement of the others in the room, “Oh Thomas, you are probably the most important man in the room.” Thomas looked completely perplexed, Bartholomew continued. “Without you I can’t carry out my plan.”
“Which is… sir?” asked Gillian, Thomas’ puzzlement reflecting in her own face now.
With his best vote-winning smile, Bartholomew answered, “Why, simply to build a fleet of survey ships, in complete secrecy of course, to explore and find out what happened on the other seventeen planets.” He beamed at the occupants of the room, then rested his gaze on the Admiral. “Olaf, here, will provide the requirements and crews.” His eyes moved to Senator Rae. “Gillian has the technical wherewithal to build them.” Bartholomew brought his gaze back to Senator Crothers. “But you, my dear Thomas, will need to provide the millions of Feds to finance them. All without the Senate or our citizens finding out. Simple? Wouldn’t you agree?”
Thomas dropped his coffee cup onto the carpet. Staring open mouthed at the smiling President, who had just declared himself as, potentially, the biggest embezzler of government money… ever…
CHAPTER FIVE
Operation Minerva
Charon Base - Orbit of Pluto - Sol System
John Radford stopped and looked around as he exited the shuttle door. “Now this is the quintessential middle of nowhere.”
“Sorry, did you say something, Captain?” asked the ensign assigned to meet this shuttle.
“Nothing, Ensign,” John sighed, “Just remarking on the location my lords and masters at the Admiralty have decided on as my new assignment; I’m now wondering who I pissed off to be sent this far off the beaten track.”
The young ensign looked at him with the ‘I’ve heard it all before look’. “Your orders, sir?”
“Yes, sorry. Here.” John handed over the data chip containing his orders and personal records. The ensign inserted them into his PAD. He confirmed that John was indeed Capt. John Radford and that he was indeed posted to some unheard of Joint Service working group on the logistical requirements of establishing and maintaining manned bases outside the solar system.
A friend of John’s had remarked that the posting sounded like a barrel of laughs as he bought John a consolation drink on the last night of his shore leave before John caught the inter-system shuttle that would deliver him to his home for the next three years. Perhaps, his friend pointed out, the Admiralty had decided that John needed a few years to grow into his new rank following his recent accelerated promotion and the media circus that John’s actions during what the press were calling the ‘Alexandria Incident’. John had wholeheartedly agreed with him. Without a doubt this was the Admiralty’s way of getting him ‘outta sight, outta mind’ for a while. John’s face formed an unhappy scowl. With his experience he should be out there exploring the galaxy and setting up those bases, not sorting out how many packets of toilet rolls it takes to support them.
As the ensign returned the data chip to John, he said, “If you follow me, sir. The Admiral is expecting you; you’re the last to arrive.”
Oh great, thought John. Last to arrive. Hope the Admiral is in a forgiving mood or this could be a long assignment.
As the ensign escorted him to the briefing room, they passed down corridors bustling with Navy, Marine and civilian personnel. All seemed to be moving in a hurry and with a definite purpose. This struck John as odd, but when the ensign stopped at a doorway with armed marines guarding it he decided that something was definitely not right here.
The ensign turned to John and indicated a state of the art retinal scanner mounted on the door-frame. “Press your right eye to the retinal scanner, sir, and you’ll be met on the other side.”
“You’re not coming?”
“No, sir. I’m not cleared.” And with that, the ensign turned on his heel and headed for his next task.
An ensign not cleared for a logistics meeting? Forgetting himself, he thought out loud, “What the hell?” He shook his head before placing his right eye in front of the retinal scanner. The door popped open and he stepped through. A greying female lieutenant commander wearing the insignia of Naval Intelligence confronted him.
She looked him up and down and without a word of greeting said, “This way, Captain. Admiral Vadis is expecting you.”
&n
bsp; John stopped dead in his tracks. “Admiral Aleksandr Vadis?”
The lieutenant commander had already taken several steps, she stopped and turned with a knowing smile. “The one and only.”
John’s mind raced. Aleksandr Vadis… the spook’s spook. He had been immersed in the black side of intelligence work for some forty years until he was implicated in a corruption scandal, what – three years ago? He had been forcibly retired in disgrace. A sad end to a lifetime of service. What the hell was he doing way out here at the edge of the solar system? Better still – if he retired in disgrace – why was he in charge?
Full of questions John was led along a corridor. They reached another door, again guarded by marines. These ones looked even nastier than the pair guarding the building’s entrance. Another retinal scan; however, this time the lieutenant commander also presented her right eye.
As the door opened, the lieutenant commander led the way and they entered the room. It held an oval-shaped table with four chairs on either side and two at the top. Already seated were three Navy captains, two men and one woman, along with four Marine majors, paired off – navy, marine, navy, marine. John’s escort indicated the empty seat beside, what seemed like, an overly tall marine while she walked to the head of the table and took her seat beside, damn – it was him, Admiral Aleksandr Vadis.
“Welcome, Captain Radford,” said Aleksandr with a smile that suited a fox about to steal a few chickens. “I have no doubt you’re wondering what the hell you’re doing here, as I’m sure are the other men and women seated here.”
Looking around the table, John could see that he was not the only one who had no clue of what was going on.
“What we’re about to brief you on,” Aleksandr paused, “is so sensitive that anyone who knows about it is either on this godforsaken rock and will stay here for the rest of their natural lives or in key positions within government. Not even all of the cabinet know about us.”