“Then there are your new friends,” Pete says. There’s something about his tone of voice that speaks of frustration.
“Me?” she replies. “My friends?”
Kath knows what he means, but she wants to hear him say it. She wants him to articulate his concerns to the group.
“It’s the whole, ‘We come in peace,’ thing, right?” he says. “Nobody actually believes that. Oh, we might, but nobody else does. Certainly not the President or any of her advisors. And as for your friend the general, who’s to say he’s not planning to blow them out of the sky the moment they reach Earth?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Kath says. No one comes to her side of the argument. The silence is awkward. “Why would we—”
“Why wouldn’t we?” José asks. “Whoever gets that thing could harvest technology that’s thousands of years more advanced than our own.” He peers over his reading glasses, saying, “You don’t think they haven’t thought of that? Because I have. Do you really think everyone’s going to play nicely? Do you expect the US, Russia, and China to share what they learn? And how will an alien species interpret any interference with their equipment? Will they treat it as an act of war?”
Pete says, “You have to remember, this is the single most disruptive event in human history. Regardless of country or culture, people are scared. Nations do dumb things when their populations are afraid. What if someone adopts a position of shoot first, ask questions later?”
“They’re not hostile,” Kath says.
“You know that,” Sara says. “I know that. But what if they do something unexpected? What if some tin-pot dictator starts shooting at the lander? Hell, sending a lander could be seen as the start of an invasion.”
“But it’s not,” Kath says.
“How do we know?” Sara asks. “Will the UN take our word for that? Can you imagine anyone letting an alien rover roam around the countryside? What if it ventures north? What if it rolls through Washington or New York City? How do you think that will go down?
“What about Moscow? Or Beijing? And it’s not just the local population that’ll freak out. Can you imagine the US reaction? We’d be paranoid as hell about those damn commies interfering with it. Our right-wing media will go apeshit. They’ll say the Chinese are harvesting its tech. I can imagine the presence of a lander leading to war between us.”
José says, “Here we are preparing to fight off the alien hordes, and we end up killing each other. What would they make of that? They’d think we’re mad.”
“And we are,” Sara says. “We routinely kill each other.”
“Fratricide, right?” Pete says. “We squabble—as individuals and nations. We forget we’re all part of the same species.”
“Will they understand our confused position?” José asks. “I mean, to them, such behavior might be barbaric. We think we’re civilized. They might disagree.”
Sara shakes her head.
Pete says, “And then there’s the risk of contamination. I can imagine a scenario where alien microbes accidentally exploit our adenine/thymine-rich environment. If their microbes displace these acids with any of a hundred other amino acids, we’ve got serious problems. They could silence protein production. If there’s a runaway effect, it could wipe out bacteria as we know them.”
Kath says, “These are—”
But she’s cut off by José. “These are not unfounded concerns.”
“We’re physically isolated,” Pete says, simplifying the discussion. “That isolation has allowed us to flourish. Mixing celestial biospheres could be disastrous, even if it’s accidental. If our biospheres compete at a microbial level, we could find ourselves on the losing side.”
“What’s the risk?” Kath asks.
Pete replies, “There’s a low risk of disruption. More than likely, the two biospheres will be incompatible. They’ll simply ignore each other. But if they do interact, we’re in deep shit.”
José says, “Even though this is hypothetical, if the Russians or the Chinese believe it’s possible, they could act against An̆duru. They could start a war.”
“Where would that leave us?” Pete asks.
“There’s no governance,” Sara says. She’s frustrated. “Not really. Even the UN is little more than a token gesture of cooperation. We are not unified. If we can’t agree on who should speak or what should be said, perhaps we shouldn’t be talking to them at all.”
José says, “Whoever speaks to them will no doubt misrepresent us. They can’t help misrepresent us as we’re scatterbrained.”
“Look at us,” Pete says. “Humans are nuts! A third of all Americans believe in ghosts. One in ten think the stars rule their lives. How are we going to explain flat-earthers to our extraterrestrial visitors? Hell, there’s already a conspiracy theory going around that An̆duru is a hoax. Can you imagine that conversation with ET? Hi. Welcome to Earth. Oh, by the way, some of us think you’re fake. You must get that everywhere you go, huh? Ignore the nutters calling you the Prince of Darkness. Don’t worry. We’re not all mad.”
He laughs, adding, “How’s that going to go down?”
José laughs. “Perhaps we shouldn’t say anything.”
Sara says, “That might be for the best.”
Kath is overwhelmed.
“There’s another possibility,” Sara says.
“What’s that?” Kath asks.
“We might not be able to talk with them at all. I mean, look at our Martian rovers. They transmit metrics, but they’re not designed to hold a conversation with anyone.”
“She’s got a good point,” Pete says.
“Yes,” José says. “If An̆duru is fully-automated, it would be like talking to a brick wall. Given the time lag between here and wherever it came from, a conversation was always going to be off the books. To save weight, it wouldn’t surprise me if there was no means for us to interact with the craft. If I was them, I wouldn’t include an interface as I wouldn’t be expecting any communication, only data collection.”
Kath slumps in her seat.
Sara says, “I need to sign off. I have a dozen other meetings before this damn thing reaches Jupiter.”
“Yeah, me too,” Pete says.
“Hey,” José says, smiling. “Look on the bright side—it might go splat!”
United Nations
One day out.
Nolan does not want to be in New York. He’d rather be catching up with the team retrofitting the Trident missiles, regardless of his misgivings about them. Even with a stripped-down payload and extra fuel, they can only reach around four hundred kilometers above Earth’s surface. That’s barely the orbital height of the International Space Station. He’s been pushing the team for a final, highly maneuverable kick-stage. Nolan wants to be able to remotely control the warheads. It’s wishful thinking. As there are communications satellites orbiting as high as thirty-six thousand kilometers up, reaching four hundred kilometers into space is underwhelming. Damn, they’re trying to cram decades of R&D into a few weeks.
The motorcade weaves its way through the streets of Manhattan. For the most part, the streets are empty. The city that never sleeps is glued to the television. Everyone’s waiting for the encounter with Jupiter, listening to pundits and their predictions.
The President addresses Nolan and Kath, saying, “You guys are eye-candy. You’re not here to talk to anyone or persuade anyone of anything. Just smile and nod, even if you disagree with what’s being said.”
Nolan smiles and nods even though he disagrees with the President’s approach.
“Yep, just like that,” the President says, pointing at him. Oh, she knows his type too well. Like a three-piece suit, military uniforms provide a thin veneer. They’re costumes in a play. They give him something to hide behind.
Nolan does not understand diplomacy. To him, it’s recursive—a play within a play. What is the military but diplomacy by brute force? Nolan doesn’t get the need for pleasantries to hide blatant hostility. Fuck
‘em. Life in the Air Force is blunt, hard, caustic. Feelings are for weekends. Dr. McKenzie, though, seems swept up in the glamor of the moment. Her eyes have a glazed look.
“As far as those at the UN are concerned, you’re celebrities,” the President says. “If you’re asked any questions, keep your answers brief. Stay within the bounds of what we’ve already discussed. No bombshells. Nothing new. I want you guys to sound like a scratched record bouncing over the same track a dozen times. Understood?”
Both of them nod. Only Nolan smiles.
The car pulls up at the front of the United Nations building. The President says, “Welcome to the den of thieves.”
Nolan is in full parade dress. This is the first time he’s worn the insignia of a brigadier general. The difference between a silver oak leaf and a silver star might seem trivial, but he wears it with pride. If he’s to hide behind something, let it be a symbol of authority.
Questions are hurled at them as they step out of the President’s beast of a limousine and follow her into the UN building. Reporters stand behind a cordon, reaching out with microphones and smartphones. Cameras catch their every move. Yeah, they really are actors on a stage.
Walking into the General Assembly, Nolan marvels at the chain of decisions that led him here. It all started with a hunch about the Russians overreacting.
For Nolan, joining the Air Force was a coping mechanism. People go into the military for many reasons—patriotism, family tradition, or to get through college. When Nolan walked into the recruitment office, though, it was to find a sense of identity. He was a bright, moderately athletic teen. Good looks and a sense of humor made him popular, but, like his uniform, that was a cover, allowing him to hide.
Deep down, Nolan never understood what others saw in him. Somehow, he managed to keep his anxiety bottled up, but Jan saw through him. As he stands to attention by the side of the stage, waiting to accompany the President, he keeps his arms straight, but not out of military precision. No, he’s hiding his sweaty fingers in his palms, tucking them out of sight. The rim of his hat and his tight collar cocoon him. Outwardly, he looks immovable, but Jan knows. She’ll be watching this on TV. She’ll catch a passing glimpse as the camera pans, and she’ll see through the hard lines on his face. She’ll recognize his posture as unduly stiff. And just as she did on their wedding day as they stood before the altar at St. Mark’s, she’ll tell him to relax, whispering to him through the television.
Nolan breathes deeply.
“...the President of the United States of America.”
Nolan and Kath follow the President on stage. They’re props in her performance, standing back and on either side of her—Kath to her right, Nolan on her left.
“Esteemed ambassadors, leaders and representatives,” the President begins. “I stand here before you not simply as the President of the United States, but as your equal.
“The advent of An̆duru has changed the way we see not only the universe but ourselves. Our history on Earth is checkered. Humanity has rarely been humane. For too many, equality is a dream, an illusion, an ideal that has never been reached. We codify it in laws, but in practice we fall short. Now, though, our innate equality has been highlighted in a way we never thought possible. Our lives are juxtaposed against intelligent life from another world. Finally, we see that each of us counts for one and only one. And out there, somewhere in the darkness, comes another.
“Never before has there been an event like this—contact with life that evolved around another star. For humanity, this is the great equalizer. For the first time, we are united, but not out of fear or in response to heartache or disaster. We’re united in awe of finding our place in this vast universe.
“With nothing to guide us beyond our own reason, we come together not as nations but as a single species. Humanity has always been one. We’ve just never seen that so clearly before. We’ve allowed ourselves to be fractured by language, wealth, gender, the color of our skin, even lines drawn on a map. All of that is folly before the advent of an intelligent alien species.
“The time for debates has passed. The time for discussion has come and gone. The arm wrestle of ideologies is mute. We must recognize the need to stand together. United. Our message to the world must be, No one stands alone.
“As President of the United States of America, I pledge the resources of this great country to peaceful contact. I challenge all countries to join the United Nations First Contact Commission. We need to be unified in welcoming our visitors. Together, we will reach out to an envoy from another world. Together, we will make history.”
No sooner has the President folded her brief speech notes than the assembly erupts. Members call out from across the hall. Questions are thrown at the moderator.
A translator speaks and the crowd falls quiet.
“The member from the Russian Federation: You speak of equality, but as you are leading this effort. It is not unity but submission you demand of us.”
“Not so,” the President says. “Like the rain that falls and the air we breathe, First Contact knows no national boundaries. The passage of An̆duru ignores all differences in our language, culture, politics, and history. We need to stand together. No one is questioning your national sovereignty, only calling for unity. None of us have a crystal ball. The future is veiled to us all.”
The moderator doesn’t allow a rebuttal, moving to the next question.
“The representative of the People’s Republic of China: You speak of unity, but how can the imbalance between us be resolved? Eritrea does not have a space program. Bhutan has no observatories. Serbia has no radio telescopes. How can we be one?”
The President replies, “The United States will make all scientific research related to An̆duru freely available. We call on other nations to do likewise.”
“The ambassador from the French Republic says: You come before us flanked by a scientist and a military officer. What are the intentions of the United States should An̆duru prove hostile?”
“I’d like to point out that there are three of us here today,” the President says. “Dr. McKenzie represents our scientific community. Although General Landis is a military officer, he holds a defensive rather than an offensive position. He is part of NORAD—the North American Aerospace Defense Command.
“Do not be fooled. There are three of us here for a reason. Our scientific and military efforts are subordinate to the will of the American people. It is the official position of the United States of America that An̆duru does not pose a threat to life on Earth.
“Should circumstances change, the United States will use its military might for the benefit of all.”
Nolan swallows the lump that forced itself up into his throat. This is the first time the President has admitted there’s any kind of military contingency.
“The member from the United Kingdom: Will the United States take unilateral action against An̆duru in the event it is hostile?”
The President seems almost weary in her reply. “The United States is committed to working with the United Nations. First Contact should be a chance for peace.”
It’s not an answer. The President has sidestepped the question. Nolan’s not the only one to realize that but no one challenges her on that point.
Standing there under the gaze of an entire planet is intimidating. Questions continue to come from the assembly for what seems like hours. In reality, they’re finished in less than thirty minutes.
Nolan’s not sure how others perceive him. They don’t see him as he is—just one more person caught up in this whirlwind, trying to make sense of things. Nolan’s dedicated his career to being forward-looking. His mind embraces challenges. Whereas some people find their competitive spirit surge when watching football, for Nolan, it’s peering into the unknown. He enjoys trying to make out shapes in the shadows. Nothing, though, prepared him for An̆duru. Not only is An̆duru beyond anything he imagined, it’s more crazy and bizarre than he could have ever imagined. That sc
ares him. Oh, he’d never admit as much to anyone other than his wife, but he feels inadequate. The idea of an advanced alien spacecraft approaching Earth is unsettling.
An̆duru leaves Nolan in the dark.
Court
Andy’s phone buzzes within the breast pocket of his three-piece suit. As the court hasn’t been called into session, he pulls it out, glancing at the lock screen. There’s a news feed notification.
Comet An̆duru survives encounter with Jupiter.
Scientists say now en-route to Earth.
“Put it away,” his lawyer says briskly.
“All rise,” the bailiff says as Judge Emmet O’Shea enters the courtroom.
The judge sits, instructing the court, “You may be seated.”
Andy looks across the aisle at his ex-wife Justine and her lawyer. If she notices, she doesn’t respond. Is it pride, anger or embarrassment that keeps her facing forward? Or indifference? She’s wearing a dark, long sleeve dress and little to no makeup. For once, she’s straightened her hair, destroying the ringlets that usually drape over her shoulders. She looks plain. A stranger. Her hair is lifeless, lying flat against her scalp.
Looking back at the day they got married, it’s hard to imagine they would end up here. Seeing her in a white wedding dress took his breath away. The smiles. The flowers. The sun streaming in through the stain-glass church windows. It’s like a dream. Andy feels a pang of regret, but not at anything he’s done. It’s the outcome he resents. If only she hadn’t been so damn headstrong. Like every point of conflict in his life, someone else is to blame.
The court officer says, “Petition V-36221 is now before the court. Justine Palmer versus Andrew Joseph Anderson. This motion is for sole custody of the couple’s only child, Susan Elizabeth Palmer-Anderson. At the moment, the subject is residing with her mother. Child safety concerns were raised in the initial separation proceedings C-344341. This hearing is a continuation to determine whether joint-custody is warranted.”
Wherever Seeds May Fall (First Contact) Page 11