The Gods We Seek Page 4

  #

  “The targets entered the Keku straight,” General West said. “Our sonar network can’t get a fix.” A map of Alaska’s panhandle dominated the augmented reality conference space. Solid red icons representing the aliens turned to a ghostly outline, now showing their estimated position as they traveled the seabed. “They should make landfall on Prince of Wales in ten minutes.”

  The situation room was still as time ticked by. Someone sneezed. It took seconds for a muted “bless you” to be spoken.

  “There’s one,” the General said.

  Sara’s eyes zeroed in on General West. She’s a lioness hunting dangerous prey. Focused, calculating, aware of the cost of failure.

  “There’s only one,” the General said. “The other should have emerged by now. Hold on, we have a hit from the sonar network. The other one’s traveling south-east along the bottom of the strait.”

  “Damn.” President Billmore stepped closer to the virtual battle map.

  “If we can get one, it’s a victory,” Sara said. “It would prove we’re able to harm them.”

  “One.” Ms. Kido sipped a cup of tea. “There are two more threatening the United States and a third headed for Beijing. If they reach population centers, it’ll be a lot harder to use a nuke.”

  Sara walked her avatar to Ms. Kido. “You’re right. But if we don’t try to stop them, we’ll be at their mercy.”

  “We will stop them,” President Billmore said. “We have to. We’ll keep looking for new ways to communicate, but we won’t let them work their will on humanity.” He rubbed his eyes. “We’ve been up all night. Looks like, what, an hour and a half until the thing reaches the uranium mine? There are cots in the Roosevelt Room. Everyone catch an hour’s sleep. That’s an order.”

  General West opened her mouth to protest.

  “That’s an order, General. Go close your eyes. Addie will wake us immediately if anything out of the ordinary happens.” The President ushered his staff out. “You too, Ms. Wells,” he said over the virtual link. “Rest. See you in sixty minutes.”

  Sara disconnected. She reclined her office chair then gestured toward the blinds covering her window. They retracted, revealing a bright, snowy morning. The light made Sara’s exhausted eyes twitch. She shut them and gently touched her lids. What the hell do they want from us? What could we possibly have that’s worth traveling here to get? A gust of wind howled outside. Our technology is bound to be inferior. If they want to make friends, they have a bizarre concept of how to do it. Sara breathed in deeply and let the air flow out between her lips. She faded into a light sleep. She dreamed, her mind incorporating status updates from the real world. Mechanical aliens crashed up through the streets of DC and smashed icons of the United States. The Washington Monument toppled, massive tentacles sprouted in the ceiling of the White House and tore it to shreds. Some part of her was amused. The scene looked straight out of an old J.J. Abrams movie. The things were coming for the NSA building now, for her office. Metal shattered her window and clawed at her desk. She rolled onto her back and floated through an opening that somehow appeared in the floor, or perhaps the floor was no longer there, in the way scenes blend in dreams. Sara was falling, arms apart, through the cafe, into a fiery cave, further still. She landed in a place of smoke and flames. Thousands of abstract humans moaned in agony. The aliens poked and prodded at them, laughing at their plight. There was a disjunct, pleasant voice. It was calling out to her.

  “Ms. Wells, it’s time. Thirty minutes until detonation,” Addie said. The President’s virtual assistant spoke through the aiDe interface.

  Sara woke, rubbing her eyes. “Thank you, Addie.”

  “You’re welcome.” Addie vanished from Sara’s augmented reality.

  “Coffee,” Sara said. A bronze-and-crystal contraption on the corner of her desk whirred into action. The steampunkish device was a gift from Jake. The aroma of fresh brew and cinnamon wafted through the air. Sara took a steaming mug. “That’s the ticket.” She reconnected to the situation room in the White House.

  “Welcome back, Ms. Wells,” President Billmore said. “The alien’s moving faster than expected. It should reach the mine in twenty-five minutes.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Sara said. Video feeds from multiple drones trailing the alien displayed in the situation room. Sara tapped one. The 3D video played through her aiDe. It was like she was flying, like she was the drone. The drizzle had become a stiff downpour. That’s a break. It’ll help contain the radioactive cloud we’re about to create. The alien slithered over the landscape like a bus-sized lump of metallic snakes, leaving a muddy trail in its wake. “We don’t have a feed from the mine?”

  “Dr. Okoye suggested we don’t transmit from ground zero,” General West said. “The alien might pick up on any signal and change tactics. The bomb will decide when to detonate using passive sensors. It will favor detonating when the thing’s a hundred meters into the mine so that bits and pieces might survive for analysis.”

  Sara nodded. A nuke will decide on its own when to go off. This is insanity. Absolutely necessary insanity. She zoomed in on the alien, studying its mesmerizing means of locomotion. That’s hardly efficient. Wheels or treads would use less energy. It’s… creepy. The jumble passed over hills and through stands of old forest, preferring valleys to the low mountains of the island’s interior. It entered a circle overlaid on the video showing the five P.S.I. boundary, the overpressure radius that would collapse residential buildings. The alien didn’t slow or sway. It passed into the twenty P.S.I. ring, the zone where hardened, concrete buildings would fall. It continued directly into the projected fireball area. Without pausing, it entered the mine.

  There was a blinding flash. Sara’s video feed failed. She switched to the situation room, then picked a feed further from ground zero. She was in the perspective of a drone flying high over the storm. A fireball a mile in diameter pushed through the clouds, lifting far into the atmosphere. The orange-and-yellow sphere pulled itself into the distinctive mushroom shape of a nuclear blast.

  A rush of applause flooded the situation room.

  But did we get it? Sara replayed the video frame-by-frame. No sign of anything exiting the mine. Ground zero of a one hundred fifty kiloton blast must have destroyed it. Right? It must obey the laws of physics. Doesn’t it?

  The mushroom cloud climbed into the stratosphere. Storm clouds crept into the blast zone, obscuring all trace of the explosion. A transport jet came into view, its cargo hatch hanging open. Half a dozen bundles plummeted toward the ground, popping parachutes before disappearing into the weather. Six new video feeds presented themselves. Sara selected the one closest to the epicenter. She was now in the perspective of an ant-like drone, two meters long, climbing around the two-hundred-meter hole in the side of Bokan Mountain that was the mine entrance half an hour before. Data from infrared, magnetic, and radiation sensors blended with the visual feed. The mechanical insect and its counterparts scurried and dug until the sun, peeking through the dissipating rain, was high overhead. A magnetic anomaly sensor sounded a high chirp. The ant hurried toward the source and threw back layers of dirt. A glint of sunlight reflected off a chunk of chrome-like material the size of a quarter with veins of matte black woven along the surface. Blood-red specks of pulsing light drifted through the veins. Hell, yes! We got it!

  #

  “Do you want to see it?” Dr. Okoye asked, his eyes sparkling with paternal, holographic delight.

  “See it?” Sara asked. She sipped coffee then leaned toward the projection of Abel’s torso hovering above her desk.

  “They’re sending one of the alien fragments to my lab. I thought you might want to see it in person.”

  “They discovered the first fragment an hour ago. How many do they have now?”

  “Five,” Abel said.

  “You’re getting one of five? I’m glad to see your reputation as a brilliant scientist is strong as ever,” Sara said, then sighed. “We’re in the mi
ddle of a global emergency, Abel. I can’t leave now.”

  “You’ve managed your job from the confines of your office, haven’t you?”

  How did he know? Am I that predictable? “Abel-”

  “From the looks of it, you haven’t slept much. Get on a plane, catch a few winks. NASA has an interconnect node to secureNet, and so does your plane. You’ll be able to handle anything that comes up.”

  “But-”

  “When you get your mind set on a problem, you hyperfocus. You don’t eat or sleep, and you consume far too much caffeine. Get on down here. I’ll cook you a real meal and we can talk about the crisis in person.”

  Last night’s dinner with Jake was her only home-cooked food in weeks. “All right, Abel, you convinced me.”

  “We’ll need to eat in my office,” he said. “They still didn’t give me secureNet at home.” Dr. Okoye made a wry expression.

  “Bureaucrats.” Sara chucked.

  “Bureaucrats,” Dr. Okoye said. “Something about protocols to restrict hacking vectors.”

  “Do you still have that cooking plate?”

  “Every time the office cops try to come take it, my hearing aid seems to malfunction.” He flashed ivory teeth. “Hop on a plane and be sure to rest on the flight. I want your mind fresh when you get here.”

  Sara nodded agreement.

  Twenty minutes later, Sara’s Audi delivered her to Tipton Airfield. Captain Hayes met her in the small terminal and escorted her to a five-seat business jet. The cabin door transformed into a staircase as they approached.

  “Why don’t you fly us down today?” Captain Hayes asked.

  “Me? I’ve only had a few lessons. Anyhow, I didn’t get much rest last night. I plan to nap on the way.”

  “Understood,” Captain Hayes said. “Why don't you handle the takeoff, then I’ll do the rest?”

  Sara’s eyes lit. She climbed into the pilot’s seat.

  Captain Hayes sat in the right-front passenger seat and clipped a tablet computer onto the armrest. It showed a video feed from the plane’s nose and provided a set of virtual controls he could use to override Sara’s actions. “Ready back here, Ms. Wells. Get us clearance.”

  Sara set the tower frequency and keyed the microphone. “Tipton tower, November Four Two X-ray, at jet parking, request eastbound departure.”

  “November Four Two X-ray, cleared to taxi to the Runway Two Eight run-up area,” the tower replied.

  “Cleared to the run-up area, November Four Two X-ray.” Sara released the parking brake, inched the throttle forward, and the jet began to roll. She steered it to a pad adjacent the runway and ran through the pre-takeoff checklist. “Tower, November Four Two X-ray, ready to roll.”

  “Four Two X-ray, landing traffic a Citation three miles out, winds two niner zero at four knots, cleared for takeoff.”

  A smile crossed Sara’s lips. “Four Two X-ray, cleared for takeoff.” She edged the throttle forward, steered the aircraft onto the runway, and applied full power. The plane scooted down the runway and lifted into the air. She flew it north of DC, then set the auto-pilot and turned command over to Captain Hayes.

  “Well done, Sara,” the Captain said as they changed seats. “You’re a natural.”

  Sara settled into a plush passenger seat and closed her eyes. She mumbled, “The credit goes to my outstanding flight instructor. You’re good at…”

  Bump! Sara awoke with a start. “Huh?” Buildings rolled past the window, the silver-and-gray structures slowing as she struggled to move her seat upright.

  “Welcome to Ellington Airport. The temperature is sixty-four degrees with clear skies. Local time is one thirty in the afternoon.” Captain Hayes pulled the jet to a stop outside the passenger terminal.

  An SUV pulled up to the plane, and a man stepped out. He extended a ceramic, coffee-filled travel mug emblazoned with the NASA logo.

  Sara took it and smiled. “You remembered, Ethan.”

  “How could I forget?” Ethan said. He opened the door for her then slid into the driver’s seat. As the car pulled away, he turned to face her. “Dr. Okoye is expecting you. Any stops on the way?”

  “No stops.”

  Ethan returned his attention to the road. “Is it as bad as they say in the news?” He cleared his throat. “I’m not asking for national secrets. It’s just… I’m scared. For me, for my family.”

  “The honest truth, I don’t know. The alien has done violent things. If it wanted us dead, there are easier ways for it to kill us off. You’d think it could drop an asteroid on us or create a deadly virus. It’s hardly efficient to attack a few people in a remote city.”

  The driver nodded. “Thank you, Director. I appreciate your frankness. Of course, our conversation will remain private.”

  “No,” Sara said. “You asked because you’re scared. Lots of people are scared. They have a right to know what I just told you.” An overloaded RV passed in the opposite direction, headed out of town. “I’ll recommend the President give that message to the world.”

  #

  A fragrant, complex aroma greeted Sara as she walked through Dr. Okoye’s office door. He stood by a side table, stirring a gently steaming pot.

  “What’s cooking?” Sara asked.

  Dr. Okoye added a pinch of spice. “Tikka masala,” he said. “It’s good to see you, Sara. Thank you for coming.”

  He’s worried. Worn out. She hugged her mentor. “How could I say no?” Sara tasted the sauce. “You had me at home-cooked meal. Do you have it yet? The fragment?”

  “Yes, in my lab, being prepared for analysis. The equipment we need, or at least that I guess could be helpful, will be set up when we finish dinner. I’ll take you to get a peek after we fill your belly with a proper meal.” He set two bowls of aromatic food on a small, traditional Nigerian table and gestured for Sara to sit.

  She poked at the dish.

  “You didn’t come all this way to not eat,” Dr. Okoye said.

  Sara brought a fork full to her lips and took a bite. Comforting, like coming home after an arduous journey. A smile spread across her mouth, tired yet genuine.

  “There we go,” Dr. Okoye said with a paternal chuckle.

  “Why are they here, Able? What do they want?”

  “Aha. You ask the unanswerable.”

  Sara nodded.

  “Since we can’t answer your question, let’s approach it from the other side. They don’t want anything that aliens want in a Hollywood first-contact movie. They don’t want to eat us, breed with us, enslave us, steal our resources, or add our technological distinctiveness to their own.”

  “Right,” Sara said. “There’s no logical reason for them to do any of those things.” She tore off a piece of naan bread and scooped up sauce. “Maybe we’re just shad.”

  “I don’t follow,” Dr. Okoye said.

  “Shad. My first date with Jake. He volunteers with a group that monitors how the shad population is recovering from all the environmental damage we caused early this century. We polluted the waterways to improve corporate profitability, but the shad can’t possibly conceive of that motive. Maybe the alien is here for reasons our relatively puny brains can never comprehend.”

  “Hmm. Maybe. If so, hopefully, they have environmentalists among them,” Dr. Okoye said with a wry grin. “Of course, there’s also the Quadriga. No aliens in all recorded history, then suddenly two. That’s one hell of a coincidence.”

  “We’ve considered that. If they know about the Quadriga, why not just take it? Why the attack on a remote city?”

  “Questions that spawn more questions,” Dr. Okoye said.

  Sara scooped another bite. “How do we know aliens haven’t visited before? Some parts of our history aren’t easily explained.”

  Dr. Okoye raised his eyebrows. “I never took you for one of those ancient alien believers.”

  “I never was. Occam’s razor suggests when there are competing explanations for an occurrence, the simpler one is usually bet
ter. Pyramids cropping up around the world seemed best explained by independent invention, their construction by ingenious-yet-simple machinery, alien-like images in ancient art by the modern mind seeing something that isn’t there. That’s before we had actual, concrete, physical proof that ETs real. Now, I’m not sure what the simpler explanation is.”

  “Hmm.” Dr. Okoye cleared the dishes. “This scientist’s mind still demands proof.”

  An AI voice sounded in the room. “Dr. Okoye, the sample is ready for analysis.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  #

  Sara and Dr. Okoye stood in the center of a building the size of a football field with thick, concrete walls and heavy steel doors. It was designed as a large-scale vacuum chamber for testing advanced spaceflight propulsion systems but was also the most secure structure at Johnson Space Center. Housed under a three-foot-diameter transparent aluminum dome inside the cavernous room rested a jagged, inch-long piece of silvery metal that pulsed with brilliant, blood-red lights weaving vein-like, ever-changing patterns over its surface. All manner of sensors and probes were packed around the alien artifact, ready for remote activation.

  “That thing feels menacing,” Sara said. “I can’t explain why.”

  Dr. Okoye nodded agreement. “Begin x-ray spectroscopy,” he said. A hologram projected above the dome displayed a breakdown of elements in the alien metal. Zirconium, copper, niobium, and traces of several other metals showed on the graph. Three columns were labeled, “Unknown element.”

  “Unknown?” Sara asked. “Are there limits on which elements the device can measure?”

  “It can scan all stable elements,” Dr. Okoye said.

  “So… there are unstable elements in the mix? Like, what?”

  “Well, elements with more protons than plutonium decay rapidly. The spectroscope wouldn’t identify them, but the radiation detectors would go off like crazy.”

  “Another mystery,” Sara said.

  Dr. Okoye leaned over the dome, supporting his weight on his walking stick. “There are stable, super-heavy elements. At least in theory. We’ve never been able to make them, but quantum mechanics suggests they can exist. I’ll need to think about how we can test for that.”