He had already chosen once, no, twice to come to her aid. The first time was during her fight with the Harbok, but then he had only been trying to help the underdog. He had acted without knowing. The second time, when he carried her from her ship, he was only helping a crash survivor. Based on his actions, he had already chosen sides, but intellectually he had not. Now that the time for decision was at hand, he still could not choose. He just did not know enough.
Recalling his initial concern that Arlynn was a ruthless spy, Greg felt a little embarrassed. If she had done nothing else, she had convinced him of her compassion. She was a warm human being whom he was coming to like . . . no, he corrected himself, she was a warm being, a warm alien being. If her words had been a performance, he was a fool because he had fallen for it. He liked her, though he could never like her the way he would a beautiful woman since she was alien. He was okay with just liking the person that she was. In fact, he enjoyed liking a person just for being who they were.
What if he accepted her story at face value? Would helping her be the right thing? Surely the Harbok would have an equally sincere and convincing story to tell. Would their story, then, be right too? If only things could be simple and straightforward. Instead he had First and Second Contact at the same time. Who were the good guys?
If he could not choose one side, he had to either choose both sides or no side, but to choose no side was a dead end—maybe a safe dead end, but he didn’t just want safe. Maybe that was unfair to the rest of humanity, in fact it was unfair, but he could not turn away from this First Contact. That would also be unfair. He had to choose both sides. He was at a loss as to how he could do that, but even without a clear plan, he knew the concept of choosing both sides was what he wanted to do. It felt right.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Arlynn had actually inferred this sort of framework for their solution. Her people sought peace with the Harbok, but they were having difficulty communicating with them. That, at least, he could understand. Communication between alien species would be difficult under the best of circumstances, and if one side had no desire to participate, it would be impossible. Yet, from his study of history, he knew what that invariably led to: misunderstandings, accusations, trespassing on each other’s property and culture, then conflict.
What this situation really needed was a third party neutral, an intermediary, like the United Nations.
Feeling like he might be on to something, he leaned back to search the stars overhead, letting his mind sift through ideas. Whatever he did needed to open doors, not close them. He needed to find a way to ensure further contact with Arlynn’s people, and beyond that to a meeting with the Harbok. They were at war, but he as a third party was not. Was it possible for all of humanity to act as an intermediary in this mess? The idea excited him. It held great promise for the future by offering a way for us to become a part of whatever was out there.
It made sense, but how could he make it happen? He was just one small man. Who was he to think he could bridge this gulf between two warring societies that were light-years ahead of us in technology? He was dreaming! Besides, the Harbok refused to talk to anyone.
He had come full circle, back to the big risk as he thought of it. Suppose he helped Arlynn, and suppose the Harbok found out. The very real possibility existed that they would take their anger out not just on him, Nancy, and Jim but on the whole human race. On the other hand, if he did not help Arlynn, her people might do the same. The consequences were not just something he could blow off with a casual wave of his hand, nor did he think he was blowing things out of proportion. There was no way to judge how Arlynn’s people or the Harbok reasoned. They were aliens.
He leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his head down, shutting out the stars for a while. Deep down, he knew that his real problem was not all that complicated stuff, it was himself. He was Greg Hamilton, private citizen. He wanted to pursue this First Contact on a personal level, but he did not want the responsibility. He wanted someone to tell him what to do. On the other hand, it took no great stretch of the imagination to know what would happen to Arlynn if he called in the government. Besides the fact that she would never see the light of day again, she represented advanced technology that no single government had the right to call its own. He could not turn to the government for help.
For the first time in his life there was no book of rules to follow, nor was there anyone else of higher authority to whom he could defer the decision. He thought briefly of the billions on Earth blissfully unaware of what was taking place in this Canadian wilderness and knew he had finally reached the point he had been dreading: the consequences of his actions that first day when the Harbok ship blew up. These were the consequences, and they weighed heavily.
The time had come to make a choice. He had to either turn his back on First Contact, or he had to accept risk. Whichever choice he made, he had to accept responsibility for what followed.
Squadrons of mosquitoes ended his procrastination. He stood and stretched, gazing up to the stars overhead. He made his decision, had in fact known what it would be all along, but the mental exercise had served its purpose. He turned toward the camp with determination, in a hurry now.
Chapter Seven
When he lifted the entrance flap of the tent, Greg found Nancy helping Arlynn to eat again. “You two seem to be getting along well,” he said with a forced smile, uncomfortable about the coming confrontation.
“Nancy likes being a mother hen,” Jim said as he stood up from his cot with his hands in his pockets.
“I think we three should go outside for a while,” Greg said to Jim and Nancy, though his gaze was on Arlynn.
His words took her by surprise. “Please let me participate in this discussion, Greg. I hope to be part of the solution.”
“I know you do, but the three of us need to talk alone for a while. It’s not that I don’t want you to hear our conversation, but your presence would certainly be an influencing factor.”
“Why do you think I want to participate?” she asked in her direct way, hoping to change his mind. Their eyes locked, each unwilling to yield. The atmosphere in the tent grew uncomfortable.
“Greg, is this necessary?” Nancy asked.
“Yes,” he responded, his gaze still locked with Arlynn’s. “This is our planet, and we’re about to make decisions that will affect the whole world. It’s reasonable for us to hold this discussion in private.”
Arlynn did not look away. She would not readily relinquish whatever influence she might have on this important matter. He understood her stand and empathized with her.
“How about a compromise?” he asked. “If our response is against, then we will continue the discussion with your input. Can you live with that?”
“I might live, or I might die, with this decision,” she parlayed. Then, suddenly yielding, she looked away with a sad, crooked smile on her face. He suspected it was really a grimace, but the burns on the side of her neck prevented more. “So little trust,” she mumbled. In a stronger voice, she said, “I accept your offer, Greg. Go. Have your discussion.”
They built up the campfire to chase the mosquitoes away, then they sat around drinking coffee in the warmth of its flames. The dark woods seemed to press in on the small clearing from three sides, with smoke from the fire rising straight up into a night sky brilliant with stars. Flames flickered and danced on their bodies. Greg strongly felt a sense of history, of his racial heritage reflected in the dark pools of Jim and Nancy’s eyes. How many times had their ancestors sat like this around a campfire pondering their future? He said as much, then he let their silence fill the void for a time.
The conversation began hesitantly, no one wanting to be the first to commit them to an irreversible course, then it bounced back and forth as they argued every possible alternative except the one foremost in their minds. Jim and Greg got so caught up in possible repercussions that Nancy finally had to step in.
“Hold it, guys. This is getting out of hand. We can’t manage every eventuality. All we really have here is a sick woman. She’s asking for our help, and I want to give it to her. I know you do too, so let’s take one small step at a time and do each step right. The rest will fall into place as it will.”
After that, Greg laid his cards on the table. He was willing to help Arlynn, but for a price. Nancy and Jim both responded with stunned disapproval.
“You can’t do it, Greg,” Nancy hissed softly so that Arlynn would not hear. “I can’t believe I was so wrong about you. I’ve been certain all along that you’d do the right thing.”
“She’s right,” Jim added. “Either we help her, or we don’t. It’s not right to ask for anything in return.”
“Yes, it is. We’re taking a huge risk here, and I insist. Besides, I’m not asking for all that much. All I want from her is a promise to return. If we take the risk to get involved, I want us to stay involved. By us, I mean humanity. We’re not anyone’s enemy yet, and if we can stay that way, First and Second Contact have a chance for us. If she just goes away, it ends right here. We might as well not have risked anything at all.”
“Does the fact that she would be bringing a spaceship back with her, and that you might get a ride on it, have anything to do with your demand?” Jim asked.
“Come on, Jim, of course it doesn’t . . .”
He remained adamant. He would use every bit of leverage he could to keep this First Contact alive. Feeling the weight of history again, he knew humanity had not come this far by sitting on the sidelines. Humans forced issues, sometimes stupidly, yet sometimes with great reward. Humans took chances, and he was proud of that heritage.
When they returned to the tent, Arlynn was still awake, but she was fighting the strange healing-induced sleep they had become accustomed to. She looked at each of them, as was her way, then said, “I think your smiles are my answer.”
“We’ll take you to your ship if we can,” Nancy said.
“Thank you, each of you. And I overheard your arguments concerning your demand that I return here to Earth. I accept your terms. In fact, I hope you will consider assisting me in my studies when I return. Your friendship might bring some needed validity to those studies. Now, in the leg of my suit there is a map. Bring it to me please.”
Jim searched her coveralls, what was left of them, and discovered the map folded with many sections of extremely thin material. “Greg, look at this,” he said in awe as he stepped back into the light. He unfolded a few sections, and they found themselves looking at a 3-dimensional color image of the Earth’s surface. “It’s like a hologram,” he said as he pointed out rivers, lakes, hills, roads, and cities. Each panel, when unfolded, somehow joined with adjacent panels without interruption. Radio navigation aids and airways were not shown, of course, nor did they understand any of the symbology used by the chart maker, but the chart was marked with grids not unlike latitude and longitude. Jim and Nancy had more evidence of a technology beyond anything available here on Earth.
Arlynn helped them locate her destination, then she settled back into the cocoon of her sleeping bag. “The healing process is taking its toll,” she said. “I need more water, then sleep. I’m afraid you’ll have to continue without me for a while.”
“That’s okay, but what happens after you get to your ship?” Greg asked.
“You will be done,” she answered. “I will not forget our agreement.”
“Where are you going?”
“To my base.”
“Where is it?” Greg wanted to know.
“I won’t tell you. I will say only that it is in your star system.”
“In our star system! You mean the solar system. So, it’s not on Earth.”
“No,” she answered, struggling to keep her eyes open.
“How long will it take you to get there?” Nancy asked.
“Only a few days. I assure you I will be safe after I reach my ship. I will have no trouble getting home. Now please, I must sleep.”
The spot she had shown them was a lake, but all they knew was that she had said it was west of their present location. They tried to mark the chart with a pen, but it failed to write on the chart material. Jim ran out to his plane and returned with a marker and his navigation charts and rulers. The marker worked fine.
“Do you recognize the area, Jim?” Greg asked.
“No, we’ll have to unfold this thing until we find something we recognize.” They stretched out several sections on the card table but still did not recognize any landmarks. “This could be a real problem, Greg. It’s surprising how hard it is to locate something without names on the chart. We’d better do this on the floor.”
He released his hold on the chart, which instantly snapped back to its original form.
“Careful!” Greg shouted. His finger was still on the lake pointed out by Arlynn. He gingerly opened the chart again, holding it in both hands. “There must be over a thousand pages to this thing,” he asserted. “If we lose our place, we could spend all night trying to find it again.”
“But think how easy it will be to use in the cockpit,” Jim replied, his eyes sparkling. “As you go from panel to panel, it folds itself up so you don’t spend all your time refolding charts. You just don’t want to lose your place.”
They spread the chart over the floor and eventually located Lake Superior and Lake Winnipeg. From there, they located and marked International Falls, Duluth, Thunder Bay, Winnipeg and farther west Regina, Calgary and Edmonton. By then the chart covered most of the floor. Pots, pans, tackle boxes, even rocks held down its edges. It dawned on them as Nancy kept hopping around with the lantern that the chart even had its own internal lighting.
“Think she’d let us keep this when we’re done with it?” Jim asked with a mischievous smile.
“Why do I think the answer will be a big ‘No,’” Greg laughed. Then he sobered. Standing in one corner of the tent in his stocking feet, he was directly over Arlynn’s destination, a lake in central Alberta some 150 miles north of Edmonton. Clear across the tent, Jim stood over their fishing lake.
“She’s not making this easy on us, is she?” Jim noted.
“At least we’re standing on the same continent,” Greg observed dryly. “Nancy, try to draw a straight line from Jim to me, then we can start measuring.”
“Eight hundred miles,” Jim announced after determining a rough scale from comparisons with his own aeronautical chart.
Greg looked at him soberly. “Neither one of our planes has that much range. It will take a couple of fuel stops.”
There was discussion about who would go, but it was brief—Greg was determined to make the trip. After all, there was a fully functional spaceship waiting on the other end. Jim would take Greg’s plane south in the morning to refuel it, thereby providing him with nearly full tanks to start the trip.
The next morning, Greg and Nancy rushed out of the tent to the roar of Greg’s plane taking off right over the camp. Jim circled once and waved from the cockpit, then he turned south and disappeared.
Greg got to work planning his flight, transferring essential information from his aeronautical charts to Arlynn’s chart with the marker. The chart was awesome. It seemed almost magical, and it continually reminded him as he went from panel to panel that he was holding an alien artifact in his hands.
Glancing from time to time at the sleeping form huddled on the cot, he tried hard to curb his excitement. The setting here was so prosaic, so peaceful, that recent events seemed surreal. Could the sleeping form over there really represent so much? New civilizations, actual real-time travel between the stars, new worlds to discover, new cultures, languages, hopes, dreams, threats? Was he really sitting here calmly planning a flight to a real spaceship? No, he corrected himself. He was planning a flight to a real starship.
He wanted to believe he was on the brink of a new future for humanity, and he knew he would do whatever was in his power to bring that future c
loser, but the primitive surroundings just did not fit the events. He wanted spaceships landing at Andrews Air Force Base, red carpets, well-dressed diplomats extending greetings in an alien language, cheering crowds and TV cameras, not a young woman sleeping in a tent. He smiled at the incongruity of the situation, then he discovered Arlynn’s eyes focused on him.
“Good morning, Greg.”
“Hi, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”
“Better, thank you. You’ve been deep in thought, yet I see a smile on your face. Will you share it with me?”
“Just the small matter of humanity’s first contact with aliens occurring in a tent that’s hundreds of miles from civilization instead of in our capital with all the hoopla.”
“Hoopla?”
“All the appropriate ceremonies.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “Is this so bad?”
“It’s just not what I would have expected. To answer your question, I don’t know.”
“Nor do I. I’m hungry. Will you help me?”
She managed to eat another package of food before giving up. They discussed Greg’s plans for the trip, and she immediately pressed for an early start. She was strong enough, and she reminded him that each day they waited gave the Harbok that much more time to find her. He concurred, but he explained that he did not want to fly at night over unfamiliar terrain in a plane with only one engine, and an overnight stop at a hotel would complicate matters. They agreed that tomorrow morning would be a good time to start, and it would also give her another full day of rest.
Nancy traded places with him at mid-morning while he went outside to organize his supplies for the trip. He piled the lion’s share of Jim’s survival equipment and their packaged food near the water’s edge for loading into his plane. This flight would be serious business. Minor aircraft problems or bad weather could force a landing on some remote lake where he and Arlynn might be stuck for days.
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