Legacy: An Event Group Thriller

by David L. Golemon

  “Adjusting video quality,” Europa said. “Cross-referencing alien alphabet. Cross-referencing alien numerical value to thirty-six-word alphabet.”

  The monitor flashed once more and a picture materialized that was a cross between an old-fashioned sepia-toned photo and a very old 35-millimeter film. The picture was scratchy and faded in large areas. Numbers appeared on the monitor, flashed twice, and then vanished. They were now looking at a man not very much different from themselves as he gazed into what must have been a camera. His hair was long and very blond. They could see that his eyes were somewhat larger than their own. As the humanoid placed his hands on the desk he was sitting at, they saw that his fingers were longer than theirs. His cheekbones rode high on the front of the face and his ears were smaller.

  “Damn near a match of our own physique, wouldn’t you say?” Niles asked. He moved to get a better view of the monitor.

  The man was speaking, and Europa was picking up the strange language, trying to reproduce it in type on the screen. Only a few letters appeared, with extensive gaps in the text.

  “Europa, what is the percentage of spoken language you are able to translate?” Pete asked.

  “Seven percent, Dr. Golding.”

  “Can you hypothesize written phonics to make a comprehensible sentence from the words you understand?”

  “You wish me to guess, Doctor?”

  “Yes, Europa, guess.”

  The disc started over and flashed again. Then the recording began once more with the numbers 26779.0012 on the computer screen.

  “Do you suppose that’s a disc number or maybe a date?” Dubois asked.

  “Those are as good guesses as any,” Appleby said.

  “Look at the lettering above the pocket on this person’s shirt,” Everett said as he pointed it out to the others. “It looks like Chinese characters, Cyrillic letters, and Egyptian hieroglyphics combined.”

  Pete froze the playback.

  “Europa, give us your best guess as to the lettering in quadrant 114.2,” Pete asked, referring to the grid coordinates on the monitor that Europa had placed over the picture.

  “Computing,” she said. “‘Gideon’ is the closest match to any of the referenced letters in my database.”

  “Gideon,” Jack repeated. “Look at his sleeve. That looks like a rank, possibly a military insignia.”

  They all saw the strange birdlike emblem with three vertical stripes passing underneath.

  “I think you have something there, boss,” Everett said, “Maybe a full-bird colonel, er, Colonel.”

  Pete pushed the play button again.

  “We … one … and … disc number 117899.’

  Ellenshaw ran his fingers through the pile of two-inch discs. He suddenly stopped and pulled one from the pile, holding it up to his glasses. He looked from the disc in his hand to the monitor as the recording continued. He looked around the room, not really knowing what it was he was looking for. His eyes fell on a piece of equipment he had never seen before. It wasn’t German, and it looked as if it had a lens. He walked over and examined it.

  “We’re not going to get anything from this thing, Doc,” Jack said with disappointment. “One in twenty words with Europa even guessing at that one. It’s not scientific.”

  “I agree with Jack. We now know that these people were more like us than we previously thought,” Niles said. “That will have to be enough for now.”

  “Look at this,” Ellenshaw said from the far corner of the lab. “I found this disc. It has the very same numbers that appeared on the screen a moment ago. I suspect that the person speaking was referencing this disc, or maybe just talking about it.” Charlie was playing with something the others couldn’t see.

  Niles, curious what the cryptozoologist was up to, walked over and saw the thick power cables running from a boxlike machine no larger than a shoe box to a wall socket. The cords were twisted with what looked like very old-fashioned electrical wire. He figured the German scientists had rigged a power supply of some kind. As Niles watched, he saw Charlie insert something into the little black box with the glass eye and grab the power cable.

  “Charles, no!” Niles yelled, but he was too late and Ellenshaw was too curious and determined.

  Suddenly the lights went out and even Europa shut down as all the energy in the room was snatched away by the power cord running to the small black box. As the men went stock-still, the glass eye on the small box activated and the room exploded with light and color. A large depiction of the Earth, 700 million years before the present, appeared as a massive hologram, spinning on its axis. The scene was peaceful and serene.

  “What the hell is that?” Appleby asked as he backed away from the giant hologram. “Is that a real view of the Earth back then?”

  “Look at the cloud formations. They’re moving,” Pete said. He stepped closer and as he did so the view of the Earth shrank. There was another flash of brightness and the Earth’s largest moon appeared—Mars, almost opposite the Earth on the far side of the sun, but in exactly the same orbit.

  The men all jumped as Europa beeped and came back online, apologizing for her loss of signal. The men turned away from the small laptop and looked at Mars as it had been 700 million years before they were born.

  “It’s absolutely beautiful,” Ellenshaw said as he moved away from the far wall.

  Suddenly the two moons appeared. The larger one looked to be about 300,000 miles from the rotating sphere of Mars and maybe 600,000 miles from the Earth and the moon they all knew. Names appeared below them as a special effects overlay produced by the alien technology.

  “Europa, utilize your camera system and view the projected hologram. Translate the names under the orbiting planet to the best of your ability.”

  “Complying,” she said.

  They all watched the recorded worlds as they spun on their very strange and unfamiliar orbits. All were amazed and no one could speak or take their eyes off the fantastic scene before them.

  “I have an approximation of the terminology listed on the hologram, Dr. Golding.”

  “Go ahead,” Pete said.

  “The planet suspected as being Earth is named Tarrafarr. The planet known as Mars is listed as Polomatan. The small moon is Nomtoo and the large moon is listed as Ophillias, or a close approximation of those words.”

  As they watched, they were shocked to see small ships orbiting the planets. The most activity was around Mars, while nothing was in orbit around the volcanically active Earth. But by far the most traffic was around the large moon, Ophillias. They were all watching closely when suddenly the realness of the hologram took on a whole new meaning. The view slowed to one eighth speed and everyone in the room ducked when Ophillias exploded. The action was sudden and terrible. The planetoid shattered as though it had detonated from the inside. The debris shot out in a wide arc, taking everything with it as it traveled. Ships and space stations were swept away in the onrush of mountain-sized pieces of Ophillias. Then they all watched in horror as the debris reached Mars. The remains of the shattered moon hit Mars like a shotgun blast, scouring its surface clean of every feature. The oceans were ripped from their beds and the poles shifted as the planet was pushed from its orbit and flung into deep space.

  “Oh, God,” Ellenshaw said, as if they had just witnessed the real-time deaths of billions of people.

  The mauling of the solar system continued as the debris from the exploding world hit the small moon and the violent impact shifted it closer to Earth. Their own home world took the next hit. The supercontinent was smashed by pieces of Ophillias. It started to burn. Volcanoes erupted and the planet became a shining ball of gas as the clouds were pulled away and the atmosphere filled with poison.

  When the picture settled they saw the new alignment of the solar system. Mars was now the fourth planet from the sun and Earth was still the third, only it was now much closer to the sun. Two large chunks of Ophillias were still intact. They orbited around the newly murdered w
orld of Mars as its new moons, Phobos and Deimos.

  The room was silent as the hologram ended. Niles reached out and unplugged the small machine. He shook his head as he realized that they had just witnessed the most catastrophic event in the history of their solar system—all in actual footage.

  “I now believe our alien visitors had no choice but to immigrate here,” Niles said.

  “But what happened to them?” Charlie asked as he took off his glasses and wiped them on his dirty shirt.

  “They came to a hostile world. By the looks of their colony, I don’t think they made it,” Niles said. He looked at the large globes once more. “But there very well could have been a few who did survive. We’re just too close genetically to them to ignore. It may take years to understand, but we are linked somehow, someway.”

  Jack was about to ask a question when a shockwave struck the blockhouse. It rocked the interior and men fell to the floor for cover thinking it was an earthquake. Only Jack, Everett, and Sebastian knew that it wasn’t.

  “Get out of here and take cover,” Jack yelled as loudly as he could.

  As the men started to move, they heard the crackle of small arms fire and then another explosion rocked Gallery Number Two.

  JOHNSON SPACE CENTER, HOUSTON, TEXAS

  Hugh Evans was dozing at his station.

  He had been awake for seventy-eight straight hours and refused to leave mission control. His relief would sit in a chair next to him and coordinate efforts with Jet Propulsion Lab in getting signals from the Beatle John and correlating the data against what little telemetry could find its way through regarding Altair. Thus far they were concluding that Altair had reached the surface of the Moon but there had been no word on whether the crew was still alive.

  It had been twelve hours since the president announced through a joint communiqué that the Chinese space program was now cooperating with the ESA and NASA teams. This had come as a gesture of goodwill after the sudden death of their great leader, who had suffered a severe heart attack while sitting at his desk. The disturbing factor in all of this was that all three space programs—the ESA, NASA, and the China National Space Administration—had not one single scrap of evidence that there were live members of any crew on the lunar surface. All communication, including telemetry, from all three platforms, had ceased. The Chinese could only verify that their Magnificent Dragon had achieved orbit and its LEM had reached the surface. Just after the news had been relayed to the Chinese crew that cooperation between the powers had been achieved, communication with the orbiting crew module and the lunar lander had ceased.

  Hugh Evans had heard speculation around mission control and the gist of it was that there were ten-to-one odds in favor of all the crews being lost. They would never say that to Evans himself, but the talk was there regardless. The mission thus far had not only lost contact with all elements on and orbiting the Moon, but information had been received through the gossip corridor that the vice president of the United States and executor of the American space program had been placed under house arrest by the FBI. He was more than likely going to be charged for his involvement with Samuel Rawlins, which would implicate the vice president in the assassination attempt on the president. Hugh could only wonder what else could possibly go wrong with Dark Star and the other missions that had been sent to the Moon.

  Someone nudged Evans on the arm and he opened his eyes. He was staring at a cup of coffee held by the oncoming CAPCOM specialist.

  “Figured since Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain-grown coffee, the coffee would come to Mohammed.”

  Evans smiled for the first time in days and sat up in his chair. His eyes felt like there was sand lodged in them. He rubbed them until they were flaming red.

  “Thanks,” he said, accepting the white cup. As he did so, he saw the NASA logo on its side and wondered if the program would be extinct after the debacle of the Dark Star missions. Sipping the black coffee, he could only speculate if he was presiding over the extinct dinosaur that was now the space program.

  To be so close and to lose the last of the LEMs had been a shock to him and everyone at mission control. The presidential calls to the center asking for any update were the worst. He had spoken to the president twice, offering his latest version of the same information, only to feel the president deflate even further after his pat answer.

  “What was that?” a technician called out from the fifty rows of telemetry stations.

  Evans glanced up at the large center screen. The picture was still being relayed by the Beatle John and the camera view hadn’t changed. Evans went back to drinking his coffee.

  “There it is again. Could someone tell me just what the hell it is? Flight, we have a shadow that has passed over John’s lens twice now.”

  Evans grimaced at the coffee in his cup and placed it on his console. He adjusted his headphones and microphone, and then stood up, hearing his bones cracking as he did. He looked down and let his anger show for the first time that day.

  “Who is speaking to me?” he asked. “When someone has something to report, it would be helpful if I knew who I was talking to.”

  A young man in row nineteen of mission control stood and looked back at the mission flight controller. Evans was staring down from his high perch with his hands on his hips.

  “Sorry, Flight, this is telemetry from John coming in from JPL. We’re getting shadows around the peripherals of the rover’s camera.”

  Evans rubbed his eyes and focused on the young kid, who was connected directly to JPL through a computer link.

  “Just what the hell does that mean?” he asked.

  “I think we have movement around John.”

  Evans looked up at the picture streaming from outside Shackleton Crater. Neither the camera angle nor the rover had moved in days. The picture was still fixed on the center of the interior, showing the devastation after the explosion. As he watched, he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  “What is JPL saying?” Evans asked.

  “Whoever is on duty missed it. I guess I’m the only one who saw it,” the young engineer said, looking timid.

  Evans nodded his head and fixed the technician with his tired eyes.

  “That’s okay, son. You report anything you see. You never know.” Evans started to sit down and that was when he saw it. He froze halfway to his chair. The rover had moved. “Jesus, has anyone issued a command to John to change positions?” he asked. The heads of three hundred men and women looked up as they wondered what Evans was talking about.

  On the main view screen, John began to vibrate and the camera angle went off kilter.

  “Good God, we have movement of the rover! It could be slipping down the slope of the crater.”

  “No, no,” Evans shouted, as he watched the camera view go further askew. “Not now, not now!”

  “Wait a minute. JPL is reporting that it’s not John that’s moving, it’s the camera’s boom arm.”

  Everybody in mission control stood as one. The camera angle steadied and the smiling face of a helmeted astronaut came into view, waving a greeting.

  An eruption of noise sounded in the aisles of mission control as they recognized the smiling face. It was Sarah McIntire.

  “It’s the lieutenant. They made it!” someone shouted from their station.

  “Calm, people, calm,” Evans said, as coolly as he could manage. He wanted to jump up and scream himself. He looked over at CAPCOM, who was staring back at Evans and using a handkerchief to wipe at his eyes. Hugh nodded and placed his hands on his hips once more.

  On the screen the small geologist held a finger up as the camera angle jostled and then steadied. McIntire disappeared from view and the camera showed several space-suited bodies moving around near the rover. Some wore the distinctive environmental suits of the ESA, and some the white with red trim of NASA, and still others had the solid red-colored suits of the Chinese. Another loud cheer erupted from the floor, and this time Evans himself pumped a fist.r />
  Suddenly a loud crackle from CAPCOM was heard through the speakers lining the walls of the center. Evans looked over at the CAPCOM station and saw his technicians frantically adjusting the sound quality. Just as Evans looked back, McIntire appeared again, this time trailing a long cord from her backpack.

  “Hous … this is … copy, over?”

  Evans tried to still his racing heart. He realized McIntire had tied into John’s transmitter and was attempting to broadcast by bouncing the signal off John’s parent craft, Peregrine. He wanted to reach out through the 244,000 miles and hug the smart little woman.

  “Damn it, CAPCOM, clean that up. This I want to hear!” Evans said. For the first time he had emotion exploding from his voice. As he watched, CAPCOM nodded and stared at the main viewing screen.

  “Houston, this is Dark Star 3, do you copy, over?” Sarah said from the Moon.

  “Dark Star, this is Houston, we read you loud and clear. Welcome back to the world of the living.”

  “Thank you, Houston. It’s good to be back. I am pleased to report that the Eagle has landed.” Sarah smiled and then laughed. “I’ve always dreamed of saying that.”

  Evans plopped down into his chair just as the control room exploded with cheers and applause. Hugh felt around in his pockets and then a hand appeared in front of him. It was the young technician from JPL. He was holding a handkerchief out for the flight controller. Evans accepted it and wiped his eyes. He nodded his head as he reached for the phone that had been tied in earlier. He only had to wait a second after picking it up before the call was answered.

  “Mr. President, Lieutenant McIntire has just reported from Shackleton Crater. Dark Star is on the Moon and the joint teams, including China, are moving into the crater’s interior.”

  There was silence on the other end for the longest stretch Evans had ever endured. Then the president was heard clearing his throat and sniffing.

  “Thank you, Mr. Evans—thank you.”

  As the line went dead, Hugh Evans looked up with phone still in his hand and all he saw was the smiling face of Sarah McIntire behind her helmet’s glass visor. The little geologist was the new love of his life.