“The Little Ones were fleeing the Others. Blind luck? I just don’t have a clue. However, they have found us, but they can’t go back home without the very artifact in my case. But if they ever got their hands – or tentacles - on that tool, they would be able to return here in force. Bloody good thing I happened along. Think of it,: one species, the Little Ones, being chased by a meaner one, the Others, across interstellar space, and stumbling on some of the most valuable real estate in the universe. Maybe a good thing I purchased what I did.”
“What do you mean? ‘…the most valuable real estate in the universe?’”
“Oh yes, Ruth. All life in the universe needs access to liquid water. It’s the abundant water on earth. Very few planets in the entire universe can support or sustain life.”
Ruth shuddered at the unstated implications. “You are holding the key to a massively destructive immigration problem?”
“Exactly. We could be overrun to extinction in one decade.”
“Jack, how am I supposed to keep all this from Finnegan?”
“I couldn’t expect you to do that. Please understand that I have a very delicate task ahead of me, Ruth, as do you. No one could expect you to keep such a promise when the stakes are so high.”
“Why tell me?”
“Because you came to me, because Finnegan does not trust me, because I am now leaving on a mission that might well be my last. And I intend to hide my little treasure in a place that no alien can ever find it.”
“Can’t you just destroy it?”
“Too dangerous. It might take this solar system with it.” Jack smiled sadly. “The artifact, the key, is on the table.” He pointed in the direction of his pond. “I think you need to actually see it up close.” Jack rose quickly and loped over to a narrow table next to a fish pond. Then she noticed the metal suitcase was unlatched and partly open. “Come over here, please.”
Ruth followed apprehensively, standing to Jack’s side but a bit behind. When Jack pulled open the case, she stood absolutely transfixed. “Actually the Little Ones call it ‘The Key’”.
The “Key” was a perfect rectangular prism of diamond-clear crystal that nearly filled its padded metal suitcase, yet seemed somehow far too large for the box. Along its narrowest face and embedded beneath the perfect crystal surface, a series of amber planes were arrayed like the leaves of a book. Each translucent plane was separated from the other by an infinitesimal distance and each was finely etched in gold with intricate but orderly patterns. The object’s smooth crystal faces did not reveal any external connection.
Ruth stood as if paralyzed or hypnotized. Then she moved closer and stared into the very center of the crystal. There was suspended a perfectly circular torus coruscated, lit by an endlessly coursing, intensely glowing fluid. It was a ring, a ring of evanescent colors mutating across the entire visible spectrum, then repeating in subtle fractal variations…endlessly. For that moment, nothing else seemed to exist for her.
“You really can lose your mind in it,” Jack said, gently turning Ruth away.
She sighed, unaware she had been holding her breath. “I feel a little dizzy”, Ruth said.
“That’s to be expected. Please tell Finnegan about this only when it’s all over. Not a moment before.”
After Ruth left his room, Falstaff took the Locator Artifact from his residence to a secure office and locked the door. He couldn’t leave it here…
Ever since he had learned of the aliens and began exploiting that knowledge for profit, he had struggled with two truths, each of which was caught up in a paradox: keep your honor; protect those close friends whom honor requires, if necessary by lying to them. And there was another truth that eventually he had almost admitted to Ruth. His dreams wouldn’t let him alone.
Jack was an ordinary Australian provincial until he stumbled onto the Little Ones and learned of the Others. He was a skilled trader and the secrets he acquired, brokered, traded or kept all had made him immensely wealthy…until he squandered a fortune on that damned Artifact.
Ruth and Finnegan might have understood his early secrecy, had he ever brought them fully into his confidence. What if Finnegan and Ruth had really known the danger of that purchase, a danger the gravity of which he for a time had artfully concealed even from himself? What was he thinking, going it alone? It was like having a portable thermonuclear weapon while living among competing terrorist gangs.
There was so much he had concealed from Ruth and Finnegan. And Jack could not escape the maddening ghost of something else, a secret he had buried so deeply – or was so deeply buried in him, that it was lodged behind an impenetrable wall. Jack Falstaff was haunted by the suspicion that he was living someone else’s life, leaping into risks, possibly dying for a cause, without knowing who he really was. Yet, as some long dead maternal ancestor had told him: you are the sum of your decisions. And for him, the key decision was made.
Enough! Jack told himself. He needed nothing more than cool clarity and calm execution right now. There would be time for introspection later, if he survived. The monstrous responsibility he had so serendipitously acquired just could not be shared. Jack picked up the case and called the Sparrow.
“This is Jack Falstaff. I’m coming aboard. Prepare for launch in forty minutes.”
Falstaff in orbit
A few hours later, Jack was far above the GFE facility. Australia was visible below, a large brown area on the retreating earth. He and a brave little alien sat together at the control console of the Sparrow. While Defender occupied the seat at his left, Jack Falstaff untethered the second shuttle and initiated an auto landing sequence. Then he left a text message for Donald Wu at Lake Disappointment Base that the Kiwi would be landing alone and unpiloted in several hours. A precautionary evacuation of GFE’s Australian facility should begin within the next 20 hours, sooner if and when anyone could confirm that Advisor Station had been delivered nuclear weapons. This business complete, Falstaff turned to Defender, who politely turned two eyestalks expectantly toward him, as if to say, “What’ssss next, bossss?”
“I’ll be taking a little nap,” Jack said. He moved away from the chair by holding a guy cord. He was wearing his flight suit, a loose fitting, one piece, instantly pressurizable garment, complete with pockets, hose fittings, glove and bootie tabs.
“Good. I’ll wake you if anything changessss.” Defender retrained her eyes on the console.
“Thank you,” Jack said yawning.
He reached his sleeping area through a narrow crawl tunnel, lined with handholds. The bedroom was a well-ventilated compartment with adjustable lights and a pressure bed that simulated the reassuring pull of the earth. Jack set a timer and slid between the covers in his flight suit. He fell asleep immediately.
Falstaff dreamed intensely. It was that recurring dream. His destiny? Or was it that ancient female ancestor’s nonsense about his own death?
Several hours later, carrying a flask of coffee Jack Falstaff returned to the control console, finding Defender still harnessed in the number two chair. Two eyes rotated in Jack’s direction and blinked. The blink was engaging and somehow funny.
“Ssssleep well?” she asked.
“Yes, thank you,” Jack said, still sipping from a tube.
“Ready?” Defender asked.
Jack took a deep breath. In the meantime, the image of the earth had diminished so that he could see the entire blue orb. “Yes,” he said, placing the coffee tube in its clip. “Why not?” He opened a special communication channel, nodding to Defender. A series of high frequency squeaks and chirps followed from Advisor Station. Then Jack listened intently through the speaker, his head cocked. The answering sound was metallic, harsh, and completely incomprehensible to human ears. Defender sat next to him and translated, her words coming directly through Falstaff’s earpiece.
“Confirmed. The Senior Advisor is aboard and they have the nukes.” Jack repeated the translation, half to himself.
“You are upsssset,” Defender said. It was
a simple statement of fact.
Jack turned his face away from her eyes. “Of course I expected they had the nuclear weapons…” He remained mute for a full minute, then, bracing his body against the chair, he slammed a giant hand against the bulkhead. The ship thrummed. The sound slowly died, like a great gong. “I just thought we wouldn’t have to let them take this ship,” he said.
“The Enemy is not sssstupid, Papa Jack.”
“Of course not.”
“Break off the contact for a few minutes. Need to order the evacuation.”
Jack initiated the encrypted call and Donald Wu’s face appeared on screen seconds later. “We have confirmed it, Donald. The station has nuclear weapons.”
“We’ve set up a temporary SatCom station and command post about 1000 clicks away on the open desert. There is a usable landing strip. Everyone is packed up.”
“Call me when you’re there.”
“I will. Good luck.”
Jack unbuckled and stretched. “We need about three hours.”
“We expected thissss, correct?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve been thinking, Papa Jack. Only one of ussss should go in with this sssship,” Defender said quietly, as if the Enemy could hear. “Then it will sssstill work out just assss planned. That one should be Defender.”
Jack looked at the alien closely for the first time. “You’d take the Sparrow in alone? When they find out I’m not with you, they’ll cut off your escape.”
“They won’t know. I’m transssslating, remember?”
“But you’ll have no chance at all in that scenario.”
“Which issss why you were sssso upsssset. Correct?”
“Correct.”
“No chancccce either way for you, either, Papa Jack.” Jack said nothing because he couldn’t really disagree. He had little to no chance of survival. “I am called to go,” Defender said. “My people are in thissss messss partly becausssse of misssstakes we made yearssss ago. I can make thissss better for them. A new life. To be remembered well issss important…”
Jack stared at Defender with affection. As a female, she was less colorful than Captain and some of the other males, but her subtle dark colors seemed to shimmer slightly when she moved, releasing glimpses of gold, green, purple and cyan. What a wonderful moiré effect, Jack thought. He tried to think of something appropriate to say, then patted the creature. “I’ll be in my quarters until Wu checks in.”
Four hours later, Jack’s intercom chimed. It felt a bit like a condemned man when the executioner opens the cell door. “Wu called.” It was Defender’s voice.
“Everyone has evacuated?”
“Yessss.”
“Even in New Zealand?”
“Yessss.”
Minutes later Jack was back in his seat. He leaned forward and lightly touched the control panel. The console blinked to life in the semidarkness. Then he touched the communicator stud, keying the frequency and data rate parameters. He waited two beats. “Ready to translate?”
“Of coursssse,” Defender said.
The Australian desert, 1000 kilometers from ground zero
A decision was made to move the Citisle, but not evacuate. But, under Jay Robertson’s supervision, the entire GFE Australian facility was closed down and emptied. He was the last to arrive at GFE’s temporary mobile headquarters in the desert. Jay had been fully briefed by Donald Wu about Falstaff’s latest move while still in the air and Donald had flown to join Gael at GFE’s mobile site. When Jay arrived, he found Finnegan Gael sitting by himself in tent under a bright lamp. His rumpled white shirt hung loose over denim pants, rings of coffee marred a folding table scattered with papers. Ruth had finally left to freshen up in the trailer.
The air was redolent with burned coffee and the smell of the night desert. Gael looked up from his favorite chair, a worn leather and wood affair that creaked when it moved. It was the same chair he’d sat in when he’d first met Jack Falstaff in that abandoned warehouse years earlier, a gift from his departing friend. Gael blinked his eyes; then he grinned broadly.
“Thank God, another familiar face.” Finnegan got to his feet. “Jay Robertson, home at last.”
Jay reached out a hand and was met with a surprisingly strong hug. “How is Ruth?”
“She is in better shape than the rest of us. She talked to Jack apparently just before he took off in the Sparrow.” Finnegan’s voice was cracked with worry. “Nukes…Jesus H. Christ, Jay. Every thing we’ve worked for…”
Jay held the shorter man away by the shoulders and looked into his face, noting the bloodshot eyes. “Everyone is here, all of them, Hugh, Sam and Lew?” Finnegan nodded. “Donald is here, too? So we’re all safe?” Gael nodded again. “Then it’s just a matter of waiting it out. How much sleep have you had? You look like shit.”
Finnegan rubbed his eyes with the back of a hand and glanced at his desk clock. “Two hours in the last 20 or so.”
“Take a nap, Boss. We don’t have a clue just how long this will take. I promise to wake you up in plenty of time.”
Jay thought he caught the glimmer of a tear in Finnegan’s eyes. “Maybe I will at that,” he said. “Jack is on some kind of a mission up there in the Sparrow.” Gael pointed up with a finger; then he seemed to slump slightly. “Bedroom in the trailer,” he said, yawning and pointing outside. “Good to see you, Jay. Oh…” Finnegan paused. “Jack is aboard the Sparrow. Did I just say that? You might check in. Use the encrypted laser. Today’s encryption key is on the card table.”
“Consider it taken care of,” Jay said. “Now get some rest.”
Finnegan stepped out of the tent. Jay stared at Finnegan’s cluttered desk and the rack of communications gear. Okay, where is that damn key?
The Australian desert, seven hours later
It was three AM. A refreshed and shaved Finnegan Gael led Hugh, Sam, Springer, and Windling in turn to a makeshift viewing area, away from the lights, while Jay and Ruth stood quietly by some softly lit aluminum work tables.
“What are the chairs for out there?” Springer asked.
“To observe the fireworks, if there are any,” Jay said. “Captain Windling, I need you to check out our backup taxi.”
“You refueling right now?” Hugh asked.
“Yes. Donald’s orders.” Two mechanics were already working at the rear of a jet plane, while a fuel truck hose was playing out across the dark runway. “We may need to fly out of here in a hurry and go a lot farther than we planned.”
“Join us at the table,” Finnegan said. “We have food and coffee. It’s going to be a long, long night.”
“Hugh, you and Sam might as well eat now,” Jay said. “Falstaff just warned us. We might have to leave this spot in a hurry.”
In a distant orbit, three hours later
Aboard the Sparrow, it was time. Jack Falstaff had slipped his flight suit inside the bulky VacSuit, and fastened and sealed his boots. The helmet, Climate Pack, Maneuvering Unit, and other equipment needed for a hurried EV were clamped near the exit airlock. His VacGloves dangled from his shoulder tabs. Defender was wearing Belief Keeper’s freshly pressed kilt.
Jack studied the screens showing the view outside the Sparrow, noting that the earth’s terminator had moved, exposing a growing blue crescent. The shadow of the earth was a cone, occulting the sun and shadowing his shuttle. In that shadow, 120 kilometers away, the alien starship known as Advisor Station floated in stealth mode. As Jack Falstaff began keying instructions, the screen caught its tiny dark shape gliding across the band of the Milky Way. There you are…
“I ssssee it,” Defender said.
Minutes later, as the Sparrow closed on Advisor Station, its subtle outlines began to resolve against the star-field, revealing a machine 1000 times the length of the Sparrow. It moved shark-like against the celestial backdrop, its surface only faintly touched by the earthlight.
Jack swallowed a sense of growing unease as he transmitted. “I am authorized to negoti
ate with you,” he said, “But I need time to arrange a docking.” The chitter of Defender’s translation followed; then a metallic clatter replied.
“They will wait ten minutessss,” Defender translated.
“Twenty,” Falstaff said.
“Nine…”
On the large screen, the Sparrow was already dwarfed by the alien vessel whose interior lights, now visible, sparkled across its black surface like a city seen from an aircraft at night.
Falstaff turned to Defender and sighed. “I’m ready.”
“Papa Jack, you can activate your ‘gift’ from a disssstance of up to ten kilometerssss.”
“Too far,” Falstaff said. “What if they block my signal?”
“Not likely at all. Why don’t you sssset the timer assss a default?”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know exactly where the bomb issss hidden or exactly when it goessss off.”
“Fine, then.”
“Just be ssssure to wait until when the Ssssparrow issss well within docking range. When the Ssssparrow issss within point two kilometerssss, the explossssion will ssssurely take the Enemy with it becausssse of the ssssecondary explossssionssss. Worsssst case for ussss, they warp out of here and are losssst forever.”
“Then maybe I should be within a kilometer or so.”
“Why be that closssse? You’ll probably die too ssssoon to have the ssssatisfaction of sssseeing them blow up or vanissssh.”
“Fine,” Jack said. “Two and a half kilometers.”
“Three,” Defender said. “Live a little.” She reached out with pseudopodia, extending her tiny fingers. “Sssshake, partner?”
Jack held the tiny fingers for a second. So soft, he thought. “You’ve been watching too many old Westerns.”
“Good thing,” Defender said. “Now it’ssss time for you to get out of Dodge.”
Three minutes, thirty seconds later, Jack Falstaff was floating outside the Sparrow in his assembled and connected VacSuit. He was tethered to the open hold of the ship, starkly lit from within. Just outside on the ship’s surface, he paid out the rest of the umbilical from the hold. The Sparrow’s dull silver skin gleamed faintly in the starlight and earthlight, like black ice. Then, he switched on his hand beacon. A large circle of collimated blue-white light danced over his silver-gray ship and the stubby fins that surrounded the massive exhaust nozzles at the distant stern. Jack killed the light, trying to remember the configuration.
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