The general’s chuckle sounded almost genuine. “Okay. So the stated premise of the appeal was bogus. But we need to know as much as we can—.” The general stopped when the door to the clinic opened.
A young teenage boy walked in. “It is you,” he said in awe.
“Can I help you? Are you hurt or sick?” She stood, and got her pen and report pad ready.
“No. No, I’m fine. I — I just wanted to tell you that you were right. What you said in the broadcast. You were right.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jennifer noticed the general lean forward in interest. “I was right about what?”
“The message you sent in Klingon. You were absolutely right. I do wish that I was you.”
“Oh!” Jennifer blushed, as if she had just been caught red-handed. “I probably shouldn’t have said it. I just wanted to show people that I was real and that I wasn’t being forced to read a speech. I mean, how many aliens would know Klingon? Or know what it’s like to be a nerdette?”
“Anyways, I think it’s so cool that you’ve gotten to interact with real aliens. And gotten to go on one of their ships. I’m jealous.”
“You mean envious,” the general corrected him. “The term would be envious.”
“Please excuse my older friend here. He doesn’t realize just how blissed out we nerds get when thinking of meeting aliens.” She glanced over at the general and winked. “Is there anything else?”
“No. Oh no! You’re eating lunch. I’m sorry. I just wanted to tell you that you were absolutely right.” With that, he turned and hurried out the door.
Jennifer sat back down and dug into the fries once more. “These are so good,” she mumbled while chewing. “I haven’t had these since soon after I moved back here.” When the general didn’t say anything, she looked at him. He was staring at her blankly. “What?”
“The message was a nah-nah hey-hey thing?” he asked, incredulous.
“Unless I’ve lost my Klingon grammar skills, it should’ve translated to ‘I bet you wish you were me’. Just like the boy said.”
The general slowly put his nearly-empty box of fries down on the counter. “We thought that you were trying to tell us something.”
Jennifer’s right hand was frozen in middive towards the last of her fries. “I did tell you something. I told you lots of things. I told you to stand down, to not provoke them. That they are so far technologically advanced compared to us, that some of the things they can do will probably seem like magic to us. That if they wanted to, they could destroy us and the entire planet and not break a sweat. That in and of itself is worth far more than Mrs. Summer’s double patty burger and cheese fries. Though I do thank you for the food. Food, like money, is scarce in town.”
The general looked like he wanted to “harumph” but didn’t.
Jennifer put the now-empty box of fries down and picked up the burger with the necessary two-handed grip. “I’ll tell you what I can tell you, General, but you have to realize that, in a sense, I’ve been forced into an Honest Broker position here. I’m going to work hard for my species — you’ll be happy to note that I include you in that group —” she smiled cheekily “but I have to fulfil the promises I made to their mission commander. That I not put them at risk.”
The general finished chewing his mouthful of beef, swallowed and said, “You can’t have it both ways, Miss Hodges. You can’t be for us and for them at the same time.”
“Who said anything about being on their side? My promise was that I wouldn’t betray their trust nor put them at risk. Given the fact that we can’t possibly hurt them, not with their energy barriers and advanced weaponry, then short of drawing them out from behind the barrier to be abducted and tortured by military crazies — of which I DON’T think you are — I won’t be violating that part of my promise. But I also can’t betray their trust.”
She put the burger down on the counter with a little more force than she had intended. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but the way I look at it, my job in this situation is to make them like us. Maybe even like us a lot. If they arrived with evil intentions, if we make them like us, they ought to be less likely to follow through on those intentions. No?”
“That’s an awfully huge assumption. How can we know if their emotional makeup is similar to ours?”
Jennifer gave him a “Well, duh” look. “We can’t. We don’t. Of course it’s a huge assumption. But I’m all we’ve got. And if they did arrive with evil intentions, then our only hope is that I/we make them like us a lot. Cause we sure can’t defend ourselves.” She paused to chew her lower lip. “I honestly don’t believe that they have evil intentions,” she added softly.
They ate quietly for a few moments. “This frightens me, Miss Hodges. Our survival rests —.”
“MAY rest,” she corrected.
“Okay, may rest solely on the assumption that they don’t hurt newly-minted friends. But it also rests solely on one individual. I know that you’re a genius, Miss Hodges, but you have no experience acting as a go-between.”
“That may be,” she countered, “but I have the most experience of dealing with the Wakira of anyone on this planet. And I prefer the term ‘nerdette’ or ‘wackadoodle’. I always have an image of me looking like Einstein when people call me a genius. My having a bushy mustache freaks me out.” The joke fell flat.
The general was quiet once more, his mind not on finishing the meal. “No limit hold-em,” he said without warning, breaking the silence. “You know the game?”
“Vaguely,” she smiled. “While I worked at the VA hospital in Brookings, I would participate in some after-shift games with my guys. After awhile, it was like toying with them. I started deliberately blowing big hands from time to time. Just don’t tell them that.”
“Well, to use Hold-em as a metaphor, you’ve got pocket 2s, and they’ve just pushed all-in preflop. You’re covered. There are a gazillion different ways they can have you beat. And you have to choose your course of action. Oh, by the way, you have 15 seconds and they are totally unreadable. Push or fold? If you push and they have you beat, we may die. If you fold, we may die anyways. What do you do? That is why I’m frightened Miss Hodges. Even if you manage to choose correctly, in this weird version of the game, we could still lose.”
For the first time in the conversation, Jennifer noticed that there was fear in his eyes. “Crap,” she said under her breath. “You’re right.” She slumped down in her chair. “Even if I’m flawless in my planning and execution, we can still lose.”
“Perhaps we should attempt to expand the number of people that they interact with. If we have six or seven players at the table, instead of just one, the odds of winning would improve.”
Jennifer played with her ponytail as she pondered his suggestion. “They are by-the-book people. Letting me out this morning was unheard of. I suspect that they pick small towns and put up the barriers in order to limit the number of natives they have to deal with. Large enough to be an almost-valid subset, but small enough to control. Perhaps even to avoid reverse contamination.”
The general’s puzzled look spoke volumes.
“They are hung up on tradition. Past practices. Obviously, they’ve worked well for them in the past, so why abandon them? If you plunge yourself into a sea of aliens, with strange alien ways, you risk getting contaminated with alien thinking. Keep the contact as limited as possible, while getting the data you’re looking for, and you limit having ‘wrong thinking’ introduced into your society. They’re monotheistic — imagine what would’ve happened if they had landed in India in the middle of one of the Hindu festivals? This forced isolation of the natives reduces the risk of our barbarian ways infecting or infesting their society.”
“I would never have thought of that.”
Jennifer shrugged. “It came to me last night, while I was trying to sleep. I couldn’t figure out why they would have picked Jewel Nebraska. Then I realized. The nearest town is 40 plus miles away. The population is
small. The population is weary from having to fight for survival — no jobs, no money, no help. This town is filled with people who have already given up. Over the next few days, more of the people behind the barrier will leave their homes and will interact to some extent with the Wakira. But they will already consider themselves inferior and beaten. Docile. Without the energy to argue or correct or whatever. No ‘Well, this is the way we do things here’. Thus, no risk of reverse contamination.”
They were silent once more. After a few seconds, Jennifer returned her attention to the remainder of her burger. The general fixed his eyes on nothing in particular.
“Why are they doing this survey?” he asked suddenly. “I mean, why really? We’re centuries away from heading to the stars — why do they want to find out more about us? Why now? Why not a hundred years from now? The furthest we’ll have gone will be Mars. Why now? Why us? This isn’t their first survey, is it?”
Jennifer chased the last remnants of her meal with the last of the soft drink. “It’s not the first. That’s why it was hard for him to agree to let me broadcast to the country.”
“It was worldwide.”
She looked at him, astonished. “Worldwide? I guess this means I embarrassed myself in front of more people than I had thought.”
“The signals from every geosynchronous satellite were replaced by signals broadcast from orbiting ships that we still can’t detect. Every television program got cut off and you appeared. Including the network feeds, so people who get their television from cable or over-the-air also saw and heard you. I think that makes you the most highly-watched person on television in history.” The smile that came with this tease was warm.
“Wow,” she said taken aback. “Hey Mom, so much for you telling me that I would never be famous or amount to much.” Now her eyes were fixed on nothing. “You’re right. Why us and why now? Why travel all this way? And with a force of who knows how many ships. But why do a survey if all they want is to eliminate a potential rival? Why not just blast us into nothingness, dust their hands and move off to eliminate another civilization?”
“Those are questions we need to have answered. Maybe they are just curious neighbors. Maybe all of our fears — the Pentagon and the White House — have no basis in reality. I sure hope so. But why us? Why now? Are they hiding anything? If you can learn more about them — their culture, their history, their moral standards even — it will help us try and reason out the answers to all of our questions.”
Jennifer merely nodded quietly, her eyes still staring blankly, her mind racing a million miles an hour. The general stood, and started putting the empty food packaging into the paper bags. The movement snapped Jennifer out of her reverie. She stood, and slowly stuck out her hand. “I’m in over my head, General Comiston.” She had finally noticed the name on the tag.
He shook her hand firmly. “We all are, Miss Hodges. We all are. Thanks for the conversation. I’ve learned a lot in the space of an hour.”
“I was glad to have company. Though, now you’ve made me feel afraid and inadequate. That part, I don’t like.” She smiled to soften any blow the words may have caused. “Thanks for the food. It was marvellous.”
He picked up the debris, circled the counter and headed for the door. “It was my pleasure. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other frequently.”
He stepped through the doorway and out onto Main Street. Jennifer slowly sat back down in the chair, and drew her knees up to her chest. Her bravado was now gone, and her self-confidence had been reduced to shattered fragments.
Chapter 3
Barb showed up at precisely 5:54, as always. She noticed Jennifer’s change in demeanor, but understood what caused it when Jennifer told her that the army had visited twice. She gave the younger girl a hug and told her that everything would be okay. Jennifer gave her a weak smile, wished her a quiet night, and left.
“Buck up, Jenn,” she told herself, as she approached the first houses on Main on her walk towards home. “Smile like you always do. Reassure them. Let them know that nothing horrible is happening.” She forced her chin up, drew her shoulders back, and put on what she hoped was a confident smile. The walk home took longer than normal, as she gave her neighbors the same message she had given the world the night before. Just visiting. Curious about us. Nothing bad is happening. It’s going to put Jewel on the map (at last).
Left onto Emerald. The black barrier’s presence had a jarring effect. A platoon of soldiers now stood at attention about 6 feet from the barrier. As she approached Briar, one of the soldiers turned and stuck up his hand. “Sorry, Ma’am. No one is allowed any closer.”
She slowly walked up to him. “Except for me, Corporal. I live behind that barrier. The Wakira let me leave this morning with the proviso that I return this evening once my shift at the clinic was over.”
“Bailey!” A man with sergeant stripes hurried over. “You lunkhead! That’s the woman from the broadcast. She goes in, she comes out without hassles. Understood?”
The corporal didn’t take his eyes off of Jennifer. “She’s the one?”
“Yes, she’s the one. Let her pass.”
A hole in the line opened and Jennifer stepped through. “Thank you Sergeant. Now, boys, in a moment, one or two hands will reach out through the barrier, take my arm and pull me through. It’s the only way anyone or anything can get to the other side. So, don’t be shooting at what you see.” They all murmured in agreement, and Jennifer moved to within a foot of the barrier. “I am Jennifer Hodges,” she said to the black wall. “I have returned as promised.”
A hand appeared and grasped Jennifer’s forearm. She allowed the unseen alien to pull her through the barrier. “I thank you,” she said to the Wakiran still holding her arm. Another came alongside of her and grabbed her other arm. “What’s going on?”
“You will come with us,” one said, tugging on the arm he held. “The mission commander wishes to speak with you immediately.”
“Tell the mission commander that I will be there as soon as I take care of my father.” She gave a slight jerk of her arms to see if the mild resistance would be enough to set her free. It was not. They grasped her arms even tighter.
“No. You will come now.” They tugged harder now, and she lurched forward two steps.
“Release your hold on my arms and I will go with you. Otherwise, you will have to stun me and carry me there. Do you wish to carry me down those stairs?” she asked, pointing to the 130 stairs down to field level. “Or would you prefer having to carry me down the hill to the school, then up the small hill to the ship?” She waited for a response. “Let go of me, and I will go there voluntarily. The choice is yours.” The two sets of hands let go almost simultaneously. “I thank you,” she told them, not meaning it in the slightest. “Let’s go see what Myka wants.” She went on ahead of them and they scrambled to fall in behind her.
Her mind raced as she trotted down the steps, deliberately racing ahead of the aliens who were supposedly dragging her to the mission commander. She had done what she had promised — what had caused him to turn on her like this? At the bottom of the stairs, she headed straight for the open hatch of the ship. In front of the hatchway stood a lone guard. She purposefully walked up to him, and brusquely said, “The mission commander wishes to see me.” The guard walked her to a room near the rear of the ship.
“Where are the guards?” Myka asked her coldly.
“They’re coming. Not only are they having problems with the gravity, they definitely don’t like stairs. What’s going on, Myka? Why am I being treated like an enemy?”
He pointed to a chair, and she sat down without protest. He stood over her, trying to intimidate her. “We analyzed the broadcast last night. You used a second language at the end of it.”
“Klingon” they both said in unison.
“How do you know Klingon?” she asked, suddenly pleasantly surprised, despite the frostiness of his demeanor.
“We know of Klingon. Our understa
nding of the language is minimal. Who were you sending the message to? And what did it mean?”
Jennifer tilted her head in confusion. “Myka, it’s an artificial language. It was invented for the Star Trek television and movie series. Why does my speaking Klingon bother you?”
“We have not yet determined where these Klingon are located. We believe they might be a client species of the Kendarit.”
“Where they’re located? Myka, they’re not real. They are a fictional species, just like the Romulans, the Vulcans, and all the other characters. Who are the Kendarit?”
The two guards huffed and puffed their way into the room. “We are sorry, Mission Commander.”
He spoke harshly to them for a brief second and they slunk back out into the corridor. Turning back to Jennifer, he asked, “What are fictional characters?”
Again she tilted her head in confusion. “Fictional characters? You don’t know what fiction means?”
“All we know is from the broadcasts that were picked up by one of our ships 12 ninedays ago. We have been trying to determine who these aliens are and where they are based.”
Jennifer rolled her eyes and stared at him in stunned amazement. “Myka, they are not real. They do not exist. None of them do. They were created for several different entertainment series. The shows have been around for over 50 of our years. You don’t understand what fiction is?”
The alien leader’s facial expression changed. “They are lies? Why would you transmit lies, unless it was to deceive other species?”
“Why would we try to deceive real aliens when we didn’t even know that real aliens existed? Some of us believed that we were the only sentient lifeforms in the universe.”
“I do not understand.”
“I can see that. What do your people do for entertainment?”
And What of Earth? Page 4