Engage at Dawn: First Contact

by Edward Hochsmann

  “Thank you, Bill,” Simmons continued. “I admit to being surprised that you are the man we met earlier.”

  “Yes, our form differs somewhat from yours. We can project a likeness that indigenous beings would find familiar to avoid drawing unwanted attention and simplify communication when necessary.”

  “So, you’re a hologram?” Ben asked.

  “Oh no, I am quite corporeal and humanoid, but noticeably different from you. We have a limited ability to project an image that fits with the current context. One would expect to see a wizened beachcomber occupying the shack, so we provided that illusion, complete with documentation. We thought a Canadian from an outlying province would be best. The resulting intergovernmental interface would likely maximize the delay associated with any routine inquiry confirming my identity. I suspect you have not even heard from your bureaucracy on my entry data, have you?” Seeing Ben look down in embarrassment, he answered his own question, “No, I did not think so.

  “When you passed through the portal, that perception became obsolete. So, the image reset, and I became.” He paused, glancing down. “Consistent with a space explorer.”

  “Bill, I don’t understand,” Simmons said. “Everything you have done here is aimed at hiding your presence. If your normal strategy is concealment, it makes no sense for you to allow us to follow you here. Why did you let us come through?”

  The figure affected a realistically sad frown. “You caught me off guard. We knew a car was approaching but did not understand it was you returning. I realized when I saw you that, to use one of your American idioms, my cover was blown. I tried to flee through the portal before you could intercept me. Alas, the transposition field persists briefly after an object has passed. I had hoped to leave you with an empty shack and a mystery, but the lieutenant was too close behind me, and you were right behind him.”

  Ben frowned. “So now we’re your prisoners, or worse. I mean, you can’t afford to leave us behind to tell about what we have seen.”

  “You are our guests, temporarily. Involuntary guests, to be sure, but I have no reason to hold you longer than needed to complete our departure from here. We could hardly do more harm by releasing you than we could by keeping you since you came searching for us and would be missed by your associates. I presume you reported in to your superiors before you arrived this morning?” He saw the two men share a glance and continued. “I thought as much. Your disappearance on a mission to contact us would suggest a hostile alien intent as convincing to your people as would be our landing unannounced in the middle of your Pentagon. Besides, we would prefer not to have you along. Our natural environment is different enough that we would need to segregate you. That would be inconvenient for us and unpleasant for you.

  “We have been observing your culture and media for some time. You are both members of the security services, so we know the information you gather will be tightly held. Even if you ‘went public’ with what you have learned, no one would believe you without corroborating evidence. And rest assured, we will not leave any evidence behind. Our repairs are mostly complete, and we have charged our power cells enough to make a short interspatial jump if necessary. It should take only four more of your hours for us to complete all repairs. Then, we’ll be on our way, after releasing you, of course.”

  “So, you suffered damage,” Simmons said. “That’s why you needed the copper wire and the electronic circuit components.”

  “Yes, and other base metals. You are not aware of our visit to the salvage yard, I perceive. I suppose the owner did not detect it or think it worth reporting to your law enforcement officials. You are correct about our presence here. An unusually strong coronal mass ejection from your star caused serious damage to our engines and ship systems. We had sufficient energy and control remaining for a single short jump. This location is not as remote as we preferred. However, it was necessary to obtain the materials we needed to make repairs. I am sorry we had to resort to theft, but I could not come up with a practical option for payment. Also, our predicament compelled the temporary appropriation of that pickup truck. Could you return it to its rightful owner, please?”

  “Certainly. So, you can ‘jump’ an entire ship, not just move things around locally.” Simmons caught Ben’s eye with a slight head shake. “That would explain why our radar and other sensors did not detect your arrival.”

  The man nodded. “Yes, we more or less instantaneously arrived here without passing through normal space. I presume you could locate us by tracing the drift of the sea vessel beside which we alighted. I assure you the damage we caused was purely accidental and not the result of any weapon. Our materialization within an atmosphere, or body of liquid, in this case, creates a displacement shock wave that is very powerful locally. We did not detect the vessel before the jump—probably another effect of the damage we suffered. We would not have chosen this particular spot had we known it was here. The loss of life we caused deeply saddens us.”

  “Don’t lose any sleep over it,” Simmons pitched in. “The crew members on that boat were among the worst our race has to offer. They profited off the suffering of other humans if they weren’t actual murderers. In fact, the vessel itself was loaded with addictive substances they intended to sell. They wouldn’t have thought twice about harming you and your crew. You did us a favor.”

  The man shook his head. “It was a terrible accident we would have avoided if we could.”

  “We understand and accept your regret. In the spirit of amity, and since you seem unconcerned with any knowledge we pick up, may I ask you some questions?”

  “You can ask, but I may choose not to answer if the information can interfere with your society or create other harm.”

  “Thank you. You say you have been observing us for some time?”

  The man smiled again. “Oh, we have been monitoring you off and on for several millennia, as we do all known sentient life. We want to make sure we do not interfere with the development of an emerging society, run into them accidentally in space, that sort of thing. Our observations have become more persistent recently as you made interesting developments in technology other than space travel. In fact, your sensor technology became so advanced that we can no longer maintain surveillance from close orbit in ships like this. We seeded tiny sensing devices in low orbit that relay observations to crewed vessels in the area. The sensing devices in orbit are small and have no energy signature. They easily pass for space debris, and the probability of you finding one is practically nil.”

  Simmons cocked his head. “Thank you. I don’t suppose you would care to share how you can make jumps in spacetime?”

  “Well, I can share that we travel by what you would call an ad hoc Einstein-Rosen Bridge. I cannot offer further details other than it requires a power source far beyond the present ability of your science. Even a ship this small needs a quasi-singularity to generate the power required. I cannot share any more information for the same reason we cannot share our technology—the risk is too high that you will use it to destroy yourselves. Now, I would like to ask you a question. I thought I had satisfied your curiosity with my beachcomber façade, and we have not left a trail or produced any emissions you can trace. Was it a flaw in the shack that brought you back here?”

  Now Simmons smiled. “On the contrary, your fabrication was perfect, exactly the years-weathered old shack we would expect to see if someone was living here. The thing is, it wasn’t here three months ago. It was a good conventionalization that might have worked with a less persistent investigator. I assume you needed it to hide the operation of your conveyor.”

  “Yes. We could not risk someone happening by and seeing things appearing from and disappearing into thin air. I suppose it was prudent we waited until after the first group left.”

  “Group? What group?”

  “My alter ego was not lying to you. A group of men arrived in a large land vehicle about one of your days after we arrived and did a thorough visual search. They wer
e not your associates?”

  “Certainly not,” Simmons replied. “They were the owners of the boat you landed beside. I wish I can agree that you have seen the last of them, but they are probably on their way here right now. And they won’t be as thoughtful as we are.”

  “How troublesome. We can prevent them from entering by disabling the portal, but cannot return you to your world while it is not functioning. We should return you at once.” He then paused, gazing out into space briefly, then snapped back. “It seems this conversation has just become academic. Two large vehicles just exited the main highway and are heading this way.”

  “Are you sure it’s only two vehicles?” Simmons asked, knowing the agency strike group would include at least four.

  “Quite sure.”

  Simmons looked hard at Ben, who nodded back. “That is terrible news. The timing and number of vehicles mean they are certainly our opponents. Bill, I will ask you to trust the two of us. Your points on the immaturity of our society are well taken. In fact, we are about to provide a vivid demonstration of that unfortunate truth. I presume you would not use force against humans, even hostile ones.”

  The man shook his head. “Out of the question.”

  “We want you to leave without further contact, and we don’t want to come with you. But we need a chance to set up a defensible position we can use to delay our opponents until help arrives. Our patrol boat is nearby, but it will take time for it to close on our position. If I give you my word that we leave at our own volition and risk, would you release us to get started?”

  The man stared at Simmons for half a minute. “I accept your word.” Turning to Ben, he asked, “And you, Lieutenant, do you give your word that you prefer to risk your life rather than stay here?”

  With relief, Ben answered at once. “Yes, sir, you have my word of honor on that.”

  The man nodded. “Very well, I will release you.”

  “Thank you, sir. I don’t suppose you can throw in one of these electronic screen thingys?” Simmons smiled.

  The man half-smiled back. “No, I am afraid not. Gentlemen, I cannot provide any of our technology, but I will do what I can for you with some local materials. Oh, and your weapons will become serviceable again after you clear the portal.”

  “That will have to do,” Simmons replied. “I wish we could meet under better circumstances.”

  The man nodded. “As do I. Perhaps someday we can. Gentlemen, please prepare yourselves. You will experience the same disorientation on your return—use the head-shaking maneuver to recover. Good luck to you both. Transferring in 3, 2, 1, now.”

  Once again, his vision went black, then light and spinning. Ben repeated the head-shake procedure from before with the same results, although he came closer to hurling on this round. He and Simmons were sitting beside the beachcomber shack, just outside the door. Ben stood up and drew and checked his pistol—it now worked normally. He puzzled over this when Simmons got his attention.

  “Look,” he said, pointing about ten feet away at a neat semicircle of piled up driftwood and palm trunks. “Now that’s what I call service. Let’s get the guns and ammo.”

  When they reached the car, Ben retrieved the radio. “Kauai, Shore-One, over.”

  After about five seconds, Sam’s relieved voice replied over the channel, “Shore-One, Kauai, read you loud and clear.”

  Ben moved the selector to the voice-activated position. “Kauai, Shore-One, you need to go off-speaker again, over.”

  After a few seconds, Sam replied, “Shore-One, Kauai, the speaker is off; I’m on the headset, over.”

  Ben panted from the exertion of carrying a load of weapons and ammunition through the softer sand. “Kauai, Shore-One, we’ve made contact. Repeat, contact with ‘X’ confirmed. We believe the target is non-hostile, and it will depart in a few minutes; no action required. The bad news is the TCO is headed this way. Two confirmed vehicles, expect hostile action in ten minutes, and Doc tells me this will be their A-Team. They’ll have plenty of firepower and armored vehicles, over.”

  “Roger Ben, is there any way you guys can dodge them? Over.”

  “Negative, sir. The only clear route is a narrow path in the center of the island and just a causeway in the north leading to the spit. If we left now, we would run right into them and be sitting ducks. We have a barricade thrown together near the target, and we’ll hold out here, over.”

  “What about Simmons’s people? Over.”

  Simmons shook his head. “They’re at least 30 minutes out.”

  “Negative, sir, they’re at least 30 minutes out,” Ben repeated.

  “Roger.” Sam’s voice was low and even, but Ben could still hear the concern, even over the radio. “We are seven miles away. I’m ordering emergency speed; fog be damned. Do whatever you need to do to stay alive, clear? Over.”

  “Roger that, sir, see you soon, out.” Ben took the transmit switch back to off as he arrived at the barricade. He and Simmons dropped their bags and began to take out and arrange the magazines just inside the barrier.

  “How long before they get to us?” Simmons asked, slamming a magazine into his Uzi.

  Ben paused, seven nautical miles, 28 knots. “Fifteen minutes, give or take, but they will need a visual target to engage.” He glanced offshore at the fog with concern. “I doubt this will clear by then.”

  “I don’t suppose he can fire high to scare them off.”

  “No way. A stray shot could reach down to U.S. 1. He won’t take that risk, even for me.”

  “Right.” Simmons finished the readying of his firearms. “I guess we’ll just have to hold until they can get in the fight.”

  “Pretty much.” Ben laid down his last spare pistol magazine and looked toward the approach from the island.

  ◆◆◆

  It surprised the 252 scouts that Simmons and his companion had not taken the bait, but departed the highway on Resolution instead. It was a pleasant surprise: they considered using Resolution for the trap, but its geography was so ripe for an ambush that no one believed the American agent would fall for it. And yet, here he was. According to his instrument, Simmons's vehicle was stopped on the northern tip of the island. It was the least defensible spot on the least defensible island in the group. Amazing.

  When the assault team arrived, the scout lead passed on orders that the two Americans were to be taken alive at all costs, and no explosives were to be used in the capture. Something brought Simmons to Resolution—they decided to find out what it was. After the assault team passed, the scouts repositioned off the highway, within the scrub beyond the tree line. They would watch the escape route until the assault team completed their work and departed.

  20

  Engagement

  U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Kauai, Gulf of Mexico, seven nautical miles west of Resolution Key, Florida

  0713 EST, 19 January

  “Green Deck! I need eyes on scene—get that bird airborne and screw the regulations!” Sam shouted across the Bridge. “OOD, what’s the bearing from here to the north tip of Resolution?”

  “A moment, Captain. OK, 083 magnetic at 6.8,” Hopkins replied.

  “Deffler, initial heading 083, set altitude at 500, fast as she’ll go!”

  “Right, Captain. Airborne at 1214 Zulu, heading 083, passing 75 for 500.” After a minute, he continued, “Level at 500 feet, max thrust selected, operations normal, checking the optical package now. OK, eyes working, speed of advance 47 knots.”

  Sam was kicking himself for not launching earlier, despite Deffler’s objection about unmanned aircraft operating regulations in restricted visibility. “Very well, when you are a quarter-mile from the scene, throttle back, and activate Ghost. And get that second bird up in case they splash number one—green deck. Keep it half-a-mile dead in front of us for now with wide-angle on the camera. You see ANYTHING, shout it out. You’re our advanced lookout.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Sam stared at the display screen. He coul
d barely make out the waves on the water passing below as the Puma sped through the mist at 55 mph. “OOD, get us there. I want everything the old girl has.”

  “Yes, sir!” Hopkins contacted Main Control on the Ship’s Service Telephone. “Chief, OOD, we need every knot you can give us. It’s what we were afraid of. Roger, take the engines. We’re heading into shoal water, so you can expect a crash back order as soon as we get a target lock. Yeah, thanks Chief.” She turned to Sam as she hung up the phone. “Chief’s got engine control now and is pulling out the stops, Captain.”

  “Thank you.” Sam turned and grabbed the microphone for the PA system. “All hands, Captain speaking, we’re heading for Resolution Key at full speed to back up Mr. Wyporek. He and Dr. Simmons are pinned down by a heavily armed criminal force. Set General Quarters Condition One, this is not a drill.” He hung up the microphone and pulled the switch on the GQ alarm box, starting the 20-second alarm gong.

  Sam grabbed one of the spare handheld radios, stepped outside, turned up to the Flying Bridge, and shouted, “Lookout!”

  Seaman Pickins appeared at the rail. “Yes, sir!”

  “Get down here!”

  Pickins grabbed the ladder and slid down, hands and feet on the outside, landing with a thud. He pulled up to attention in front of Sam. “Yes, Captain!”

  “Pickins, take this radio,” Sam handed it to the young seaman. “And get down on the bow. We’re hauling ass in fog, and you’re our last line of defense against a collision. You see or hear anything that we can hit, you call it in on the radio and then run like hell, got it?”

  “Yes, sir!”