Engage at Dawn: First Contact

by Edward Hochsmann

  “Doc, I need the room,” Sam said as Bryant stood. “I want you to stake out the forward end of the passageway. No one and I mean no one is to pass until I come out and tell you otherwise, clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” Bryant replied crisply, taking the chair from Sam and moving forward. As Bryant sat down, he saw Lopez at the other end. They nodded to each other and sat in watchful silence as Sam shut the door.

  ◆◆◆

  Ben sat down on his bunk and Sam sat on Ben’s chair, putting a box of tissues on his desk. Noting Ben looking at the box, Sam said, “Just in case.” When Ben looked back at him, Sam continued. “Ok, it’s not a SCIF, but it’s as close as it can be. Ben, I need you to take me through your experience, the full Monty, from the moment you got into the car with Simmons in Key West until you stepped back aboard. We’re completely off the record here, absolutely between you and me, no rank, friend to friend, so don’t hold back. Be as detailed as possible in describing how you felt during the events. I understand that’s hard because it’s so unnatural for us, so I’ll prompt you if that’s needed.” Seeing Ben staring at him in astonishment with his mouth half-open, Sam continued. “I want you to trust me on this. You need to talk about everything now. It will make an enormous difference to you later.”

  At Sam’s prompting, Ben went through the chronology of his off-cutter actions, beginning with the arrival at the hotel and meeting with Simmons’s team. Ben saw the slight twinkle in Sam’s eye at his description of his conversation with Victoria, despite the latter’s silence and diligent effort to keep his face expressionless. Ben described the relative boredom of the next day, the excitement of the discovery that Resolution was the target site, and the encounter with the aliens that followed.

  When he revisited the battle with the TCO gunmen, the fear inside returned to the surface, and he started to trim down the detail in his description. Sam leaned forward and insisted Ben dig in and describe his feelings completely and accurately, prompting him when he hesitated. The full range of emotions returned while he completed the story. Ben again felt the gnawing, escalating fear of watching as the vehicles moved in slowly. Then, the stark terror of the chemical attack and Simmons’s wounding. Last, the intense elation and relief when Kauai could finally engage. At that point, Sam handed him the box of tissues, and Ben was astounded to realize he was crying.

  What seemed like minutes passed, and Sam reached across and gently gripped his shoulder. With the worst over, Ben steadied down. He looked up at Sam, who smiled back, released his hold, and sat back. Eventually, Ben could ask, “How did you know?”

  Sam shook his head. “I didn’t. But I damn near lost it on the Bridge just watching you go through that ordeal. I thought you had to be carrying a lot more inside and knowing you; you’d just let it sit and fester. I figured I would drag it out of you now. Better than risking it popping up tomorrow when we’re not among friends.”

  Ben nodded. His embarrassment on breaking down before his CO and friend was intense. Doing so in a formal interrogation would be infinitely worse. He looked across at a grinning Sam. “What?”

  “You know, lad,” his friend said as he stood. “They should use you for a template for the next Jack Bauer. Let’s see, you find an alien ship and send it on its way. Check. You step from there into a firefight outnumbered five-to-one by a bunch of murdering sociopaths and win. Check. And, naturally, hook up with a beautiful girl. Check.” He stepped out the door and told Bryant and Lopez, “That’s all guys, thanks.” He looked back in and finished with a slight smile. “Please hold off on doing anything like that again until after I’m tour-complete! Will you be OK, or do I need to call Doc back?”

  “I’m awesome, sir,” Ben replied, drawing a broad smile from his friend. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help, sir? Doc has me pinned down, and I’m going bat-shit crazy here.”

  Sam nodded. “If you feel up to it, can you draft a memo from me to the CO of Air Station Cape Cod? I want to give Fritz and Mike cover on the flights yesterday. Keep it unclassified. Just say Fritz called out the regs against flying in fog, I overruled him because of national security and safety-of-life and now take full responsibility for the decision. You know what I need. That would take a big rock out of my backpack.”

  “Consider it done, sir, and thank you. I already thanked him for saving my life; it feels good to pitch in something tangible.”

  Sam didn’t reply, just gave a thumbs-up.

  ◆◆◆

  USCG Cutter Mohawk arrived the following morning and anchored a comfortable distance offshore of Resolution Key. Sam had ordered the main engines restarted when the large cutter appeared on the horizon, and Kauai weighed anchor as Mohawk set hers. After about ten minutes, during which her underway routine was secured and anchor watch set, Mohawk signaled “NRUF” by flashing light, to which Hopkins replied simply “T” using the hand-held signal lamp. Within a minute, Kauai was cruising for home at the stately speed of 20 knots.

  Ben found himself at loose ends in the aftermath of the first contact, firefight, and cathartic debriefing session. He was desperate to get his mind off what he assumed would be a thorough grilling on their return to Miami. He completed and polished the memo Sam had requested. Ben tried to resume OOD duties, but Bryant put that to rest after running a weird procedure he called a “Mini-BES-Test.” An appeal to Sam was equally futile, and Ben resigned himself to catching up on the paperwork that had languished in his absence and convalescence. He was surprised to find the stack of paperwork he had left in his inbox completed and filed. In its place was a handwritten note: “You’re Welcome. Never do it again! With Respect, J. Drake, MKC; E. Hopkins, OS1.” Reflecting on the similarity to Sam’s enjoinder earlier, Ben placed the note in a document protector and stiff folder and put it carefully with the other personal items in his bag.

  He thought about composing a draft of his first email to Victoria and even got as far as laying out a few sheets of paper before deciding he was in the wrong mood. He was putting them away when he spotted Hopkins walking by in the passageway. “Hoppy?”

  “Yes, sir,” she replied, stopping in the doorway.

  “Thanks for taking care of, well, everything.”

  “That’s my job, sir.”

  “I think it went well above and beyond your normal job. You were right back in the session in Key West. I don’t want to think about what could have happened if you guys hadn’t got there when you did.”

  She looked back at him coolly, stepped into his room, and dropped her voice so what she said next would be private. “Do think about that, sir. You guys walked straight into a blind alley without backup. Why do a damned-fool thing like that? You know the captain had to throw away the book to save your ass, and he stands a good chance of getting relieved of his command over his decisions yesterday. You could have avoided putting him in that position by saying ‘enough’ at any stage of the game to that crazy spook. Remember that when you two are standing tall downtown tonight, sir.”

  Ben hung his head. “Yes, I definitely will.”

  After a moment, her expression softened. “XO?”

  “Yes?” He looked up dejectedly.

  “On and off the record, I’m really glad you’ve come back to us, sir.” She gave him a warm smile.

  “Thank you,” Ben replied with a slightly quavering voice. Hopkins nodded and turned to leave him to digest this latest lesson in leadership.

  A few hours later, Ben was on the Bridge with Sam, overseeing Hopkins as she brought Kauai back into port in Miami. After an uneventful transit and quick maneuver dockside, Hopkins turned to Sam. “Ship is moored, Captain. Request secure main engines and set Charlie status.”

  “Very well. Outstanding job, as usual. We will miss you, Chief-select.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she replied, then turned to issue the orders to snug the vessel down for a dockside stay.

  Sam turned, and Ben noticed he looked exhausted and old, with the lines around his eyes and mouth visible
even in the low lighting on the Bridge. “Well, I guess we might as well get squared away for tonight’s festivities, XO.”

  “Yes, sir,” Ben replied with concern. “Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?”

  “Nope,” his friend replied, and seeing Ben’s expression, smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Ben, we’ll be OK.” He then turned and headed off to his cabin.

  22

  Verdict

  Room 843A, Brickell Plaza Federal Building, Miami, Florida

  0403 EST, 21 January

  “Lieutenant Powell, do you have any other comments on the engagement?” the elderly man asked.

  “Sir, I regret there was no alternative to the force I used, given the circumstances.”

  “I think we agree that decision was completely justified.” He looked at his colleagues in turn, who all nodded in agreement. “About the extraterrestrial incursion, how secure is this information within your crew?”

  “Mr. Wyporek, Chief Petty Officer Drake, Petty Officer Hopkins, and I are the only ones who know anything about that. For the rest of the crew, the XO engaged a group of murderous drug smugglers, and we had to take part. The fog obscured everything during the launch, and nothing showed up on radar.”

  “I am glad to hear that, but please keep alert.” The elderly man nodded, turning to Mercier. “Captain Mercier, your officers’ actions in this incident were fully justified and consistent with the finest traditions of the Service. We will certainly convey this at the highest levels, and I encourage you to take care of them to the best of your ability within the need for utmost discretion.”

  “I certainly will, sir,” Mercier replied.

  The weight in Ben’s chest lifted. OK, not fired or going to prison. Going to make Lieutenant. Well, maybe.

  “Any other questions?” the elderly man asked.

  “Yes. Lieutenant Wyporek, is it your assessment it wasn’t feasible to secure the vehicle or any technology it contained?” the woman Ben thought of as “Number 4” asked.

  “That’s correct, ma’am. Our sidearms were inoperative, leaving no way to threaten the pilot, and I didn’t see anything that I could just grab.”

  “I see. Do you concur with that Dr. Simmons?”

  “Yes, there were no opportunities, particularly when we learned of the approach of the hostiles.”

  “Hmmm. I suppose so. It’s regrettable you could not gain something tangible from this.”

  “I cannot disagree more.”

  “What?”

  “Think what would happen had we been able to secure some of that technology—quasi-singularities, jump drives? No, the traveler was right: we’d destroy ourselves if we got hold of that stuff. I’m not sure we’ll ever be ready for it, but certainly not right now. I think we caught a break.” Simmons ended as the woman scowled back.

  “Moving on,” the elderly man said, resuming control. “Do we have anything more on the men you engaged, Dr. Simmons?”

  “No, sir. Fake passports, IDs, etc. The tactics and weapons suggest it’s the usual opposition. The only survivor of the firefight on Resolution suicided before any of us could reach him. We weren’t able to recover anything new from the vehicles or personal effects. Our people are running through the port of entry records and videos, but we don’t expect to find anything. We have the woman in custody, and she might offer some insights.”

  “It seems odd we could track her down so quickly,” the third man commented. “Someone like her should have been able to slip away completely or, at least, evade capture for a longer period than 18 hours.”

  “Well, sir,” Simmons replied with a slight smile, “I’d like to say that it resulted from a dazzling combination of our excellent forensic and cyber skills. However, I think—and this is speculation—that we weren’t as sharp as we believe. I think they caught on to JUBILEE right after they took a crack at us in Key West. They probably didn’t know what it was about, but if it had a connection with their lost product, they wanted to find out. They helped her escape and then plugged her into a safe house, not so much so she could fight another day, but so they could use her as bait. When the word got out that she was there and it was confirmed, everybody we had in the area closed in on her, even my two teams. Lieutenant Wyporek and I were on our own when we went for that ship, which is what I believe they were hoping to achieve. They came damn close to pulling off quite a neat trick—either making the first contact or at least grabbing us. I would suggest the interrogators lead with the concept her comrades sold her out when they question Ms. Petrova. Not sure she’ll break even with that wedge, but it’s worth a try.

  “The unpleasant news is this EMP weapon they cooked up to cover her escape. The possibilities are frightening. We have a hard enough time keeping the infrastructure safe and stopping the spread of man-portable, surface-to-air missiles and other nightmares. Imagine creating devices from ordinary electrical components that are small enough to hide in the back of an SUV. Park it under a departure corridor in Canarsie, flip a switch, and bring down an Airbus with 300 people and a full load of fuel right in the middle of Queens again. They blew that one up during the breakout attempt. We need to lean hard on the FBI to give the remains to our tech guys.

  “That issue aside, there are two pieces of good news. It appears the gravitational wave principle is a reliable means of sensing when our otherworld friends are ‘in the neighborhood.’ The detectors at Virgo and LIGO read another pair of loud pulses when they jumped off-planet, and a third a few hours later, from what we presume was a jump out of the solar system. We need to at least consider establishing one or two new observatories that can be in continuous operation and not staffed with academics. It’s essential to get a lead on when we have visitors rather than waiting for the eggheads to get around to telling us.

  “The other good news is the radar masker we secured on Ms. Petrova’s sailboat. It pulled into MacDill a few hours ago. We ran preliminary tests en route, and it seems to be effective. It may even be good enough to fool our alien friends, but I’m still leaning toward the solar flare damage on that one. Our people took a harder look at the hull of the original wreck once we discovered the device on the Sunrise Surprise. We found the remains of the self-destruct bomb and a pile of electronic scrap that could have been another masker. This suggests the device is in general service. Anyway, the DARPA folks and our engineers are hot to get their hands on it for reverse engineering and countermeasure development.

  The elderly man nodded. “Yes, well, it’s nice to have gotten more on them, at least. Now, I suppose that is it. Anyone else have anything?”

  “Yes, sir, one last thing,” Simmons said.

  “Yes, Doctor?”

  “The aliens must have had terrestrial help. There is no other way they could acquire a pickup truck from Hialeah, the detailed knowledge of the supply points they burgled in Key West, or the Canadian passport the traveler used. That, plus their extensive knowledge of our language, customs, and systems, which goes far beyond what they could learn via telecommunications, suggests they have agents on Earth. We need to find those people.”

  “And then?” the elderly man asked.

  “I don’t know. We must take stock and then decide once we understand the risks.”

  The elderly man nodded. “Agreed. You will lead that effort. Make your needs known after this meeting and get started at once. Now, does anyone else have anything?” He scanned his associates again. “No? Very well, this inquiry is concluded. Gentlemen, I remind you this discussion and all information associated with this incident are classified at the highest level, and any disclosure will have the gravest impact to your country, not to mention yourselves. That’s all. Thank you.” He nodded to the door, and Ben and Sam stood up to leave. Ben turned to see Simmons still sitting.

  “So long, friend,” the agent said.

  “Yeah, please tell Victoria I’m thinking of her, and I’ll write as soon as I get my head straight.”

  “Will
do.”

  Ben glanced at the panel of interviewers, now standing and chatting amongst themselves, and leaned down, whispering, “How are you going to tackle this new… thing?”

  “Fortiter et Fideliter, amicus,” Simmons whispered, offering his right hand as he smiled. “Good luck, Ben.”

  Ben shook his hand warmly. “You too, Pete.”

  Ben rejoined Sam, and they were making their way out of the room when Mercier pulled them aside. “Listen, I know you guys are tired, but let’s chat down in my office,” she said.

  “Very good, ma’am,” Sam replied.

  “I’ll meet you down there in about ten minutes.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Sam and Ben said together.

  Captain Mercier’s Office, Brickell Plaza Federal Building, Miami, Florida

  0442 EST, 21 January

  “I’ll start by saying I’m sorry we had to keep you guys on edge for so long—it can’t have been easy, after the grommet you’ve been pulled through,” Mercier said.

  “We understand, ma’am,” Sam led off. “Frankly, I’m feeling pretty lucky right now, still having a job after shooting up two civilian vehicles on U.S. soil without an SNO.”

  “The circumstances were what they were, and nobody will second guess you on that call. Changing focus, how did your crew do with all this?”

  Sam leaned forward. “They could not have been better. Ben, in particular, deserves the highest praise and reward. I’ll be putting him and the bridge crew in for personal awards.”

  Ben was deeply moved at the recommendation from the man he admired so highly. “Ah…” was all that he could say before Mercier interrupted.

  “No, we can’t have documentation referencing this mission.” Seeing Sam’s face darken, she added quickly, “What I mean is we have that covered. You two will each be getting the Coast Guard Medal. I’m afraid all that will show up in the official record and your fitness reports are you received it for a ‘Classified Action.’ I presume you want individual awards for some of your crew, as well?”