Skunk Works

Updated Sunday 15 May, 2011 12:18 PM

Skunk Works

by Jon Surfer

Patrols, especially the longer ones were always the same, boredom, with the occasional false alarm to enliven the day. Every mile, every turn, the same as the last, every single time, the routine of the patrol never varied, even when it was in a different direction. The really strange part was that this was the best possible outcome; no one wanted to even imagine the opposite, a patrol that lead to contact with the enemy. The last time that had happened it had not proven to be a pleasant occurrence. As was demonstrated by a series of seemingly common graves in one of the many Veteran’s cemeteries that dotted the country.

At least this patrol was nearly over. At four days it had been unusually long, most of the time the patrols didn’t even move out of immediate contact with the base. This one had been sufficiently far away that the communications had been bounced off a relay emitter. The men were all tired, four days of more or less constant alertness, searching for the slightest thing out of place, a trail, some rocks out of place, trash that shouldn’t be there was more tiring than actual combat. In combat things went very quickly, at least that was the common belief. None of the men could really be sure, they, like almost everyone in the force, had never seen true battle. They had years of experience in simulated combat, where a laser beam hitting a sensor set off an awful racket & told you that you were dead or crippled, but deep down they all knew that the real thing was bound to be very different. With real lives on the line, and the results of failure having a truly dreadful potential, enemy action was never far from the men’s thoughts, even when in stand-down. Stand-down was a relative term, you could go from stand-down to Red Alert in seconds, never knowing if it was the real think or another in the endless series of drills that were designed to keep the troops drilled to a knife’s edge of sharpness.

As they came within visual range of home, the commander activated his radio.

"Control, this is Savoy Six. Repeat, Savoy Six. Do you copy?"

"Savoy Six, this is Control. Send authentication code Gamma. Repeat, Gamma."

A quick punching of buttons on the radio and the requesting code group flashed to Control at the speed of light. Even at that fantastic speed, there was the inevitable pause while the code was compared to that requested.

"Savoy Six, authentication received & checked. Welcome home."

The patrol had been holding their collective breath. There had been more than one returning patrol that had been fired on by when the wrong code had been sent. The survivors of those unfortunate groups always had the best, if most terrifying stories to tell at the Club.

"Savoy Six. Copy. Tell them to set up the first round, some thirsty Trackers are on the way in."

"Roger, Savoy Six. Three VERY cold ones coming up, Control out"

The patrol, now knowing that it could proceed without being killed by the mines, automatic defensive guns, and quick reaction forces waiting for uninvited guests, squared themselves away for return. Four days or not, a certain standard had to be maintained.

"Ready"

"Yes sir."

"Yes Sir! Very ready!" This had been the specialist’s first Long Range Recon Patrol (LRRP) and he was already feeling the water from the shower.

Grinning at the younger man’s reply, Lt. Commander Weitz responded "Very well, double check your straps, we may get a few bumps on the way in."

With that, Weitz, hit the reaction jets located in the nose of the A-26, allowing it to dip into the atmosphere. At 185 thousand feet the in atmosphere controls began to take hold, as did the gravity of the Planet giving the men a sense of weight for the 1st time in days. The sensation was welcome, but at the same time, just a bit uncomfortable.

Sixteen "S" turns, and two sonic booms later, the A-26, unofficially know as the Skunk, after the famed Lockheed design bureau that had conceived them, slotted into a smooth landing at Groom Lake, NV just past 11:00 PM. The Aviation & Technology stringer sitting just outside the restricted area surrounding the base noted the return as that of an "unidentified high-performance aircraft, most likely an F-15E". Had he known how wrong he was, the man would have fled screaming into the night.

The Skunk had just returned from a patrol mission that had taken it a half million miles into space. Even as they had begun the authentication process for coming home, a Russian Sukhoi -58 was launching from an air base in Siberia to take the Skunk’s place.

It was just another day in the unending routine of the Combined Planetary Defense Command.

Padrig Thomas hated this part of his job. The Notification. He always thanked God that he only had to do it, unless some remarkable even occurred, only once or twice every two years, occasionally 3 three times in the same year, but that was fairly rare. This was one of the advantages of a stable type of Government. Some of his counterparts were not so fortunate, they could never be quite sure when A Notification would be necessary.

At least this time he wasn’t forced to wait. He was shown into the Oval Office without delay. Waiting in the room, with a puzzled expression on his face was the new President of the United States, fresh from his swearing into Office & his, as such things go, stirring Inaugural Address. With him was the former President. They were the only three men in the room. Both men were seated, the new President, behind the Oval Office desk, the outgoing in one of the office’s wingback chairs.

"Mr. Thomas, I presume?" The California non-accent of the new President was a marked change from the New England favoring of his predecessor. "I have been told by President James, that you are the one man I must see immediately. Given that I never heard your name until five minutes ago, I cannot wait to hear what to have to say that is of such great importance. Please, have a seat."

"Thank you Mr. President." Thomas turned to the other man "Nice to see you again under happier circumstances President James." The outgoing President nodded his response to Thomas’ greeting.

Before speaking Thomas withdrew an object the size of a pen from his jacket pocket. Although it was the correct size to be a weapon, no member of the Secret Service had even commented on the object when Thomas had gone through security. Certain standing orders were inviolable, and Thomas had a number that pertained to him, and him alone. Thomas twisted the end of the object before speaking "Mr. President, I am about to brief you on a matter of secrecy beyond anything you have ever even imagined. Exposing anything that I am about to tell you outside of a list of specific persons that you will be provided, without certain actions being taken by you and several other persons, whose names will be provided to you, will result in your immediate death, as well as the death of all who you MAY have told. Do..."

The new President exploded. Thomas had seen the reaction many times before. It was why President James was in the room.

"Who the Hell do you think you are! I AM THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES, you Sonofabitch! You just committed a CRIME!"

"Mitch, calm down" began the outgoing President. "He told me the same thing, word for word, eight years ago."

"I don’t care! I’ll have him dragged out of here on his ass!"

As the New POTUS reached for his phone, President James told him "If you do that Mitch, we will be at war inside of an hour. You need to listen to what Pat has to say."

"WHAT! WHY?"

"Hear him out. After that, do what you thing is best."

"Shit. Okay, Mr. Thomas, this had better be good."

"Did you understand what I have already told you Mr. President"

The POTUS’ face was the color of a good cabaret. "Yes I did." Came hissing between the man’s clenched teeth. "Get on with this."

"Yes sir. This object" Thomas pointed to the pen, "is both a recorder AND a jammer. Everything in this room is being recorded by it, and no other electronic devise within eighteen feet will function. This is very much for your protection, as well as that of any possible eavesdropper." The look on the President’s face went from pure rage to puzzled rage.

"Mr. President, everything you know about the world we live in is a lie." As always occurred, more of the rage drained from the President’s face, replaced by more puzzlement. "There IS no massive American, Russian, British, French or Chinese nuclear arsenal, at least not as you have always believed. Each country has somewhere between 100-200 nuclear warheads that can be used against another target on the planet. These exist to ensure that the secret I am about to reveal is kept, and to prevent the rise of some madman with insane ambitions. The rest of the 30,000 warhead story is all a cover, a cover for the most important secret in human history."

The New President, Mitchell Hendriks, looked over to President James. James simply nodded his agreement with what Thomas had said so far.

Thomas continued, "On June 29th, 1947 an alien spacecraft crashed outside Roswell, New Mexico." Hendriks’ look of astonishment allowed Thomas to continue at a somewhat slower pace. "That part of the legend is true, even though we have done everything possible to ridicule it over the years since" What is not generally known is everything else that happened in Roswell that night.

"The occupant’s of the craft were NOT friendly. The first MP jeep from the nearly air base was destroyed by the aliens as it approached the scene of the crash. Fortunately, the troops in the following vehicle managed to dismount and engage the aliens. Despite their clearly advanced technology, the alien’s flight suits were NOT bulletproof and the M-1’s carried by the security team were sufficient to kill the two surviving aliens. For reasons that you will find detailed in the briefing materials you will be provided in the coming days, none of the reaction force survived more than 10 days after the encounter.

"Unfortunately, the United States decided to keep the encounter secret, doing whatever was necessary to discredit witnesses to the crash and it’s aftermath. Had this decision not been made time that was lost could have been more profitably used. In 1955 at the Northern Test Site, Novaya Zemlyain, USSR there was a second encounter. This encounter resulted in the destruction of a portion of the test facility & came close to causing hostilities between the United States and the USSR. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed and war was averted. Following this incident, high-level discussion with British authorities revealed that unknown aircraft had attempted to interfere with activities surrounding Great Britain’s Nuclear Test Facility in the Monte Bello Islands. In 1957, following additional sighting, the United States, Great Britain & the Soviet Union began informal talks regarding the Alien threat, In 1959 President Eisenhower, General Secretary Khrushchev, and Prime Minister Macmillan agreed to the creation of a special international group to study the threat, and, more importantly, keep the threat secret. As the years have progressed France, the People’s Republic of China, Israel, and India, have all been made privy to the secret. Pakistan, for reasons that I will leave to your counterparts to explain, has not yet been told of the situation. They are the only nuclear power without the information you are hearing today. The leaders of several other nations that were determined to have the need to know, mostly due to the need to base forces inside their territory, or to conduct weapons testing, know parts of the secret. All told there are fewer than eighty people on earth with the latest information on the project. In the United States there is you, President James, and I. President James will receive no further updates once I leave this room. The Majority & Minority leaders of the Senate & House, as well as the heads of certain committees, receive limited briefing, along with hypnotherapy that compels them to keep this matter secret."

"Wait!" Hendricks interrupted. "You have American politicians under hypnosis? What the hell?"

President James answered for Padrig, "Mitch, almost everyone who knows anything about this has some kind of sanction on them. The Senators & Congressmen just can’t discuss the project except with those who are cleared. They are not controlled in any way."

"How do you know that’s the case? They could be told to do anything!"

"Hypnosis doesn’t work that way. Trust me, the first time you meet with them you’ll know that they are not under any kind of control."

"What if one of them tells someone anyway?" asked Hendriks.

Thomas answered, "They die, Mr. President, as does anyone they tell. This is far too secret to allow any exposure. This is the case for anyone who exposed the main secret. People who expose, or try to expose, lesser elements of the secret, such as the weapons we have developed, or the spacecraft, or the truth about the nuclear weapons, are, depending on the damage that they could do, discredited, placed into secured facilities that pose as mental hospitals, or, in serious cases, disappeared. Generally this is not needed, as we have created such a ‘funny farm’ reaction by the world’s media to claims about aliens that people who TRY to talk are ignored or become headlines on the many tabloids that are published around the world. A VERY clever investigator would find some interesting silent partners in the more outlandish of these tabloids. They would not be the right silent partners, but the investigator would stop once the information was discovered, such are the identities of these reputed silent partners. The Project also has the major news organization thoroughly penetrated by Project security officers who function as ‘breakers’ to contain any Newsflash."

Thomas stood. "I have taken enough of your time Mr. President. One of the Project security officer’s is part of your Protective detail. He is fully cleared on Military parts of the Project, he is allowed to answer He will provided you with a series of briefing papers in the coming days & weeks. None of the papers can be copied or preserved in any way. You will have eight hours from the time you unseal them to review the contents. After that they will, quite literally, disappear. The Project officer will be able to arrange for questions to be sent to other members of the Project Team or me. Hopefully I will not need to speak to you again until I brief you successor."

"Why would you see me before then"? Asked Hendriks.

"If I have to speak to you in the interim it will mean we have learned something new about the enemy. Normally that means people have died or are about to die. The other reason I would see you again is that the enemy has returned in force.

"As I said Mr. President, I hope that we will not need to speak frequently." Padrig turned to leave-

"Wait." Hendriks stopped Thomas shot.

"Yes Mr. President?"

"How did you get your job? Whom do you report to?"

"I was appointed by one of your predecessors. The appointment is at the pleasure of the President of the United States. It is also for life. I report to the Project Committee"

"How can it be both? What happens if I fire you?"

"I will be replaced by someone of your choosing. Once they are fully vetted I will no longer be needed."

"What happens then?"

"That is up to the Committee. I am allowed to state a preference. I have request a simple household accident. A BBQ grill carelessly brought inside, staying in the garage while the car is running, something like that. There is, understandably, no way that the Committee can guarantee that they will honor my request."

The last traces of color drained from Hendriks face. "You mean you will be KILLED!?"

"Yes Mr. President. You see, just like you, I also know too much. This is not a game. It is very serious indeed.

"I hope you enjoy the parade."

Padrig reviewed the meeting in his mind as he slipped out through one of the numerous unpublicized, below ground level, tunnels that allowed visitors to exit the People’s House unobserved. President Hendriks had handled The Notification well. He had not, as one of his predecessors had, thrown up.

One had to only glance at the A-26 Skunk to recognize it’s family tree, A direct descendant of the A-12/SR-71 series it, like it’s ancestor, was much more than what it appeared to be at 1st glance.

The Skunk was black. Not the glossy black or matte black that people generally think of when they imagine a black aircraft. It was black like the absolute absence of light one might find in a windowless closed room or miles below ground in a cave. On the ground a few non-black wheel struts and hatch openings broke the inky sameness of the fuselage, but overall the aircraft gave off an almost evil presence, like nothing earthly should be the color of emptiness.

The Skunk was the forth generation in the ‘A’ series, going back to the original Blackbird. Like the Blackbird it was a creature of both air AND space. In the early 60s someone had gotten extremely careless and had allowed a Blackbird to be seen by the public. The Project had only been in existence for a few years when the exposure had occurred & it was decided that the only thing to do was present the Blackbird as what it was not. The President of the United States at the time, Lyndon Johnson, had held a press conference where he had, to the secret delight of the Project’s security staff, actually screwed up the COVER NAME for the A-12, announcing it as the SR (instead of the agreed upon RS) Seventy One. The Blackbird had proceeded to set a series of world records for aircraft and had slipped easily into the ‘Legends of Airpower’ niche that the Project had built for it. It was one of the most successful Big Lies that the project had foisted on the world’s population.

The A-12 had actually been the first attempt at a dual use interceptor. It had been able to make it into space, or close enough that it didn’t matter, fast enough that it was hoped that it would be able to intervene in case of more appearances of the Enemy. The theory had been proved, after a fashion, in January 17, 1966, far above Palomares, Spain. The Enemy ship had been intercepted, as hoped, after it had over flown a Soviet missile base by an A-12 based in England. Unfortunately, after the missiles designed for the purpose proved inadequate, the A-12 pilot used his Blackbird as a ram to accomplish the destruction of the Enemy vessel. An elaborate cover story involving the loss of an H-Bomb carrying B-52 & and a KC-135 tanker had been concocted and a huge recovery operation conducted. Fortunately for the Project the largest, most recognizable piece of wreckage fell into the Atlantic, far from the eyes of the world. The supposed search for the ‘missing’ Bomb had allowed the Project to recover a 14 foot section of the Enemy ship. No trace of the A-12 pilot was ever found. His family was informed that he had been killed during a check flight in a F-104. His was not the first, nor last, coffin the Project delivered empty to a grieving family.

After the 1966 incident, the shortcomings of the Combined Planetary Defense Command’s weapons had become glaringly obvious. A crash program had been undertaken, the American portion was hidden within the Phoenix missile development project, while the Soviet efforts were supposedly part of the MiG-25 program (thus hiding a Project program INSIDE of a Project cover story). By the time the new weapons were ready so was the A-16, the first follow-on design to the original Blackbird, and the TU-105, the initial Soviet dual use airframe. Neither aircraft was combat tested before being replaced by newer designs.

The progression of these designs resulted in the A-26, Su-58, and F.11 space patrol ships. Surprisingly different in appearance the three independent designs all have similar missions and capabilities, with differences reflecting the approaches of their designers to the challenges of spaceplane operations.

The American Skunk takes advantage of the hi-tech environment that is prevalent throughout United States industry. Reflecting this, the Skunk is, in space, invisible to any sensor invented by human science (it’s invisibility to the Enemy is a much debated question within the Project), having taken stealth design to the last degree of the art. The only way to find a Skunk is to look for what you do NOT see, even the Skunk will block out objects behind it as is passes. The A-26 is the largest of the three designs, allowing for more reaction mass & weapons to be carried; this also makes it the largest target, if you can find it. It has a maximum endurance of 10 days, with a full crew, making it ideal for close Earth patrols.

The Russian SU-58 Ferret is nearly the exact opposite of the American patrol ship. Much faster inside the atmosphere, the Ferret maintains a closer link to its ancestors than the American design. Soviet, now Russian, thinking is that the Enemy is bound to have better detection sensors than are available to the Project. This means stealth design is a waste of effort (and just as importantly, money). Su-58 designers followed traditional Russian design traditions, resulting in a handsome, brutally fast, but seeming primitive (compared to the Skunk) scout ship. This was the other difference in the designs; the Russians did not see the Ferret as a long-term patrol ship, to their way of thinking she is a scout, meant to find, track, and report on the Enemy. The Russian design carries only a single pilot, making crew endurance the limiting factor in deployments.

Lastly, is the F.11 EURODefender. The Defender is the first serious out of atmosphere design produced by a British/French partnership. Mostly the result of national pride (all the partnership on Earth has not kept nationalism totally out of the Planetary Defense Command. The need to use American & Russian designs to maintain their responsibilities to the Planet’s defense had not set well with British and, especially, French Project members. The result was the EURODefender. Somewhat less stealthy than the Skunk, slower within the atmosphere than the Ferret, the Defender’s forte was deep patrol. The Defender’s designers basic philosophy was that the further out the Enemy was found, the better it was for Earth. While the truly deep space (out beyond the Asteroid Belt) work belonged to the Searchers, there was still a great deal of space that the inner recon patrols had to survey. Defender’s carried a nominal weapon’s load, allowing for far more reaction mass. Defenders could, and frequently did, patrolled sectors as far out as four million miles from Earth, nearly double the range of the Skunk & three time that of the Ferret. The trade off was that Defenders had much less self-defense capacity then their Project contemporaries. This was, according to its Project sponsors, a good thing. The Patrol ships were supposed to patrol & report, not engage the Enemy except as a last resort. Not everyone on the Project Committee agreed, but was not worth risking major debate over something that, in the end, was a philosophical decision. Besides, the addition range was nice to have.

It would have been nice to have some idea of the Enemy’s capacities, but those were still very much a mystery.

TH’’kr’hT stood on the bridge, reading the raw report from the last recon drone. The Earthers, despite their defensive activities surrounding their Home World, continued to seem to have no knowledge of his presence. The current event flashes that seemed to comprise half of the systems entertainment transmissions continued to have no mention of the Fleet, or of the early contacts the Earthers had made with the second Survey Team. The only places that anything even approaching the Survey Team appeared were the programs that his forensic translators had dubbed wM"mw"". Why a species would want to watch made up stories based on dubious science was beyond the Commander’s understanding, their nature programming had, on the other hand, been of great use to the Habitat Team.

As Commander of the Landing Preparation Group, TH’’kr’hT had to be sure that all was in place for the arrival of the Fleet in less than a full Cycle, or one of Colony World’s years. He was not quite sure how he would accomplish that task. The mission was not supposed to be this hard.

He was able to remember the thrill that had gone through him, as well as the remainder of the Fleet when the first scout ship had found the system. A yellow Star, rocky planets and, GG"lR’o be praised! A planet that seemed almost exactly like home! He had just been a child when the First Survey Team had left the fleet, he could remember the excited smell from all the adults in the Commons on the day they left. He could remember the thrill that, as a sub-adult (not that he had seen himself as one at the time) he had felt when the Survey Team had confirmed that the Planet was even more homelike than they could have hoped, perfectly placed in the Star’s habitable zone, unlike so many of the false alarms in the past. He also remembered the alarm that had struck the Fleet when the first reports of sentient beings had come in. The perfect home, and it was already claimed. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Earthers would be willing to share. The Survey Team seemed confident that they would. The Earthers had no space flight, no sun bombs, nothing that indicated they would fight for the prize.

It was 15 years after the First Survey that TH’’kr’hT had been selected to lead the Landing Preparations Group. His entire Commons had roared with Pride when the announcement had been made, one of their own selected to command the most important mission his people had undertaken sine the GV"NC’HTR"kh". The going away celebration was bittersweet; he was going into a 25-cycle cold sleep, many of his Commons would be dead before he saw them again. He was also concerned that the finding of the Second Survey Team would not arrive until his mission was halfway to the Star System

The Second Survey Team. Second Team of Offal is more like it. The Commons of that Team’s leader should be denied birthing rights, just to get his genetic material out of the People. TH’’kr’hT paused to ask GG"lR’o to send the fool to perdition. He could understand the idiot’s surprise when he arrived. It had taken the People nearly 300 cycles to develop Sun Bombs from the time that they had begun to use radiation to send signals. The Earthers had done it under a hundred. It was either a miracle or a sign from GG"lR’o that he did not favor the Fleet. Nevertheless the Survey commander had done exactly the wrong thing. Rather than do his job, survey and report, he had tried to intervene. On his FIRST TRY, the FS"rt’PH"’ had actually LOST a scout ship, along with its entire CREW. Had that made his think twice? Of course not! He had continued his ham handed efforts.

Ten cycles later he had ATTACKED the Earthers, rather he had attacked one of the Earther’s mega-Commons. Even now, cycles after he had heard of the decision, TH’’kr’hT forelimbs shook with rage at the decision. Fortunately, or unfortunately, the Survey commander had managed to get eliminated on one of his interference missions.

By the time the Landing Preparation Team had arrived in system the damage had been done. The Earthers were most unhappy. TH’’kr’hT had tried to send two contact teams since he had arrived, using shuttles in place of the armed scouts that the Survey Team had used. He had lost one entire team, and the other had barely limped home. His translators were working nonstop on some way to translate the Earther language into the People’s tongue, but there were so many dialects that the work seemed to be doomed. TH’’kr’hT dared not use the wrong dialect, lest he enrage the Earthers even more.

TH’’kr’hT knew that the Survey commander had been trying to do the right thing, all of the People despised the Sun Bombs since the GV"NC’HTR"kh", but it had not been his place to act, any more than it was TH’’kr’hT place to do so. He was there to Survey, not pass moral judgments. He was not there to squander a third of the People’s entire Military. The idiot had gotten 25 GR’ph’fr"SR killed, even though he knew how few were born each generation since the GV"NC’HTR"kh" . The Landing Team had 30 for the warriors assigned. According to the Fleet there had been 20 GV"NC’HTR"kh" born since the Survey Team had left. What was far worse was he had gotten them killed on a RELIGIOUS quest.

Yes, it is the duty of the People to prevent GV"NC’HTR"kh", what ever the cost, but the First Duty of ALL the People was to find a new home, a place for the Fleet to finally rest. They had found that Place, now, because of the FS"rt’PH"’ Survey Commander they might not be able to land there.

WHY HAD HE DONE IT! It hadn’t done anything to help the Landing! Why worry about the Earthers?

The People couldn’t care less about the Earthers home world. How would want anything to do with the freezing icebox of water? It was the second Planet from the Star that mattered. The one the Earthers called Venus.

Dry. Hot. Acid Rain. Huge atmospheric pressures. TH’’kr’hT couldn’t help but flare his crest.

Just like home. Finally.

"They look like WHAT?" President Hendriks had just begun to read the 1st military briefing paper. In the office with him was his Protective Detail Shift Leader, Special Agent Joe Reed. Reed was also a Project security officer (truthfully, he was the executive commander of the entire Project Security force & was, unknown to even Padrig Thomas, privy to the entire Project).

"Dragons sir. Not really big ones, but dragons. The ones at Roswell were about nine feet tall. Green/yellow Blood, much thicker than anything human or mammalian."

"That’s it, this has to be some kind of sick joke."

"I wish it was Mr. President. I lost two of my closest friends in their last probe of our defenses."

That set Hendriks aback. "You used to be a pilot then?"

"Yes Mr. President. Before my posting to Security I was a Splinter Pilot."

"Wait, I remember that term from the papers." The President thumbed back two or three pages in the briefing paper, "Here it is. Splinter fighter, controlled by a ship/pilot/computer direct interface. Effectively controlled by thought"

"You, you HAVE, one of these implants?

"Yes Mr. President. Most of the active members of the Project Military Branch have one kind or another. They can be quite an asset when you need them. Even today, with my implant turned way down I still have reaction times that are better than any non-enhanced person on the Planet. My eyesight is better, and I can see into both the infrared & ultraviolet bands, not like in the old days, but it’s still handy."

Hendriks had unconsciously moved his chair away from Reed. "Mr. President, since I began to speak you moved your chair exactly 47 millimeters away from me. As I have said, the implants can come in handy."

"I can imagine." Replied the President. "Why, if I can ask, did you stop flying, or doing whatever you call it in a space fighter."

"Mr. President, as the briefing paper states, the interface is wired into the neural network of you brain. Flying a splinter is quite... challenging. After a while some pilots start to have problems, I was one of the lucky ones."

"Lucky how? "

"I survived without any measurable brain damage. About 20% of us who have problems die or wind up in persistent vegetative states. Me, I just lost my seat. I miss it, but life goes on."

Hendriks could feel the room beginning to spin around him. He had to take a couple of deep breaths before he could speak. "Twenty percent of you DIE! What the hell are we doing with this Project? My God, if the people ever hear about this they will go crazy."

"With all due respect Mr. President, that is why we keep the people from finding out. I can imagine that reaction of the Earth’s population to finding out that there is a REAL space Alien threat, one that our best science has not been able to overcome. When you are recruited for the Project you are warned that there are serious risks & that death is a real possibility. When you are given an implant you get even more warnings, same when you go into splinter training. All you have to do is say no and that’s the end of it. There are plenty of jobs in the Project that don’t need enhancement. Lots of people chose those, lots don’t."

"You mentioned recruiting. Is it within your purview to discuss that, or is it a question you cannot answer?"

Reed was beginning to be impressed by the new President. He was easily upset by the Project’s more cutthroat procedures, but he got past it fairly quickly. "I can answer that sir, at least in my case. I was identified as a likely candidate during my junior year at Northwestern. A recruiter approached me and one thing led to the next."

"What made you a candidate?"

"I was an athlete, an engineering major, in ROTC, and most importantly, my parents and only sibling had been killed in a car accident."

"WHAT!"

"Mr. President? Oh, that." Reed shrugged, "It is easier when you have no close relations. The cover story is much simpler. See I died in a rafting accident. Tragedy really, my body was never found."

"I see." Hendriks didn’t really see; he felt like he had fallen through the Looking Glass. "You are a military expert correct?"

"Regarding the Project Mr. President. I have little real knowledge of the rest of the military."

"Fair enough. Do you really believe that the aliens are actually that dangerous?"

"Mr. President, this is something better discussed with the Committee."

"I want you opinion, Agent Reed. Will you give it to me?"

"It is not forbidden sir. My military opinion of the Enemy is that they represent a lethal threat to the human race. Our first contact with them was with a crashed ship. Our people went in to see what had happened, to see if they could help. The Enemy responded by firing on the first vehicle they encountered and used poison gas against the rest of the search & rescue party. Every man in the initial contact group died. Several of them described how the last alien dragged the poison bottle out of the wreckage and tore the top off of it before they shot him. Our scientists found that the bottle was mostly full of Sulfuric and Hydrochloric acid fumes. Why would anyone carry poison with them if they didn’t plan on using it?

"They crashed, shot up & poisoned the rescue party. They blew the hell out of the Russian test site for no reason at all. Every time they show up, our people die. I don’t know what their final goal is, but I do know they mean us harm. It’s us or them and I vote for us."

"What ARE you saying? That is impossible!" TH’’kr’hT was sick of hearing half skinned theories about the Earthers, and this was one of the most outlandish that had been brought up so far.

"Commander, I humble myself before your power, but it is true." The young one was nearly on the ground, so deep was his stance. The linguist’s crest, still filling into adult size, was flattened all the way to the tail such was his submission. "I have worked at this without stop since we came out of Cold Sleep. There can be no other explanation."

TH’’kr’hT thought about it for a moment. It would explain a great many things. Still, "How is this possible, even before the GV"NC’HTR"kh" the People were one. How could the Earthers have gone so far in science and technology if the Mega-Commons cannot communicate? Why has the species survived at all?"

The linguist dared to look ever so slightly up at his Commander. It was said by the older sub-adults that the Commander was both wise and kind. It was time, he supposed, to find out. "I have spoken to some of those from the other departments who share my placement. We believe, although it has not been proved, that the huge lakes of blue that separate the lands, allowed this to happen. There is some evidence, confirmed by the latest cruncher outputs, that many of the different talks are related, based on location."

"Interesting. Rise up and continue."

"Commander. I believe that we have had no success in communicating with the Earther ships because we are not using, not just the correct class dialect, but mixes of words from many different TONGUES. It as if we were mixing the words of the People with the tongue of AU’oi"’!. It makes no sense because it is like a stew of sounds. The Earthers may even find it to be an offense to their Commons."

GG"lR’o! TH’’kr’hT saw the truth of it. He had sent eight of his crew to their death to scream animal sounds at the Earthers. Damned he should be.

TH’’kr’hT looked at the young one. Young yes, but- "Did you discuss this with your Leader?"

The crest again began to flatten "Yes Commander, but he would not see the evidence. He refused to even think of it."

"You came to me without your Leader’s blessing." It was not a question.

"Yes Commander. The survival of the Fleet demanded it. I stand ready for the consequences."

TH’’kr’hT paused to picture the young one’s Leader. Yes. He was a stubborn old fool. His common was a strong one; it was to that he owed his position, not his skill. A young one both Smart & Brave, and if he spoke the truth, others his age existed with the same skills. GG"lR’o be praised!

"Hear then, your consequences." The young one looked up into the Commander’s eyes, respectful & resigned, yet hope still colored his muzzle. "You are advanced three placements. Beginning now you are a Junior Leader. Collect those who helped you with this theory. They are all raised one placement. Construct me messages in all the different Tongues you can. I will provide you the wordings. When you succeed & contact with the Earthers is established, You will be advanced to Full Leader and your team will be advanced to Full Technician. Your rations & privileges are effective now; your Team’s will be effective as soon as you enter their codes into the main cruncher. You and your fellows have the remainder of this watch, and all of the next to celebrate. Enjoy the time. You now report directly to me, you will have little time to rest once you begin."

The new Junior Leader’s crest flared involuntarily. TH’’kr’hT ignored it. It was not uncommon for sub-adults to have such reactions. TH’’kr’hT shook his forelimbs slightly; to be young again might as bad he usually imagined.

"Go!" As the younger one turned, TH’’kr’hT stopped him. "Junior Leader!"

"Yes Commander?"

"Send word for your former Leader to report to me immediately."

"With Pleasure Commander."

The Challenger was the first of Planetary Defense’s Deep Space patrol ships. Based out of the Asteroid Belt, she and her sisters acted as mobile Mother Ships for up to 8 Splinter fighters and a crew of 18. Less than aircraft carrier, but more than a fuelling station Challenger allowed the Splinters to scout across the outer edge of what the Committee called the Outer Defense Zone. Challenger’s commander, Natilia Petrovna, often wondered how six Challenger class ‘cruisers’ with their 48 Splinters spread around a spherical space with a circumference of 44 light minutes were considered to be a defensive ANYTHING. It was true that Splinters from the PDC Resnik had managed to intercept the most recent Enemy probe and turn it back, at a cost of five fighters, four lost after running out of reaction mass during the intercept & one that had resorted to ramming after it’s weapons had failed to destroy the Enemy vessel. At that level of loss, another half dozen ‘victories’ would be the end of the Deep Space Patrol. She especially ached for the pilots who had used up all their reaction mass.

The four Splinters involved were headed out of the Sun’s plane of ellipse at the highest speed ever attained by a manned vessel. She knew that the end must have been a bad one, as they had shot out of the system one of the pilots, a new addition from the IDF, kept repeating that he had heard the Enemy ship calling in Hebrew during the attack. Neural system shock was totally understandable after what the young man had experienced and considering what his interface would have been reporting about his certain fate. No one who had heard his transmissions would ever repeat a word of them to anyone outside of Deep Space group. He had died a Hero’s death and no one would besmirch his memory simply because his implant had destroyed part of his mind. One day, there would be towns named for the man, and that was the memory he had earned. No one in the Command would keep it from him.

The name of the Cruisers themselves was a kind of apology to the rest of those who sought to reach space. Many men, and more than a few women, had died in what they believed was an effort to push Mankind’s knowledge into the ‘final frontier’. After 1961, despite John Kennedy’s "We choose to go to the moon" speech, space had become the property of the Project. Planetary Defense had permanent bases on the far side of the moon, complete with rail-guns that fired aluminium slugs almost the exact size of a beer can at 0.9c and mass drivers ready to throw 50 ton pieces of rock & iron at the Enemy should the need arise. Defense bases on both of Mars’ moon supported a pair of early model cruisers that covered the inner side of the Asteroid Belt, at least the part of the inner Belt within 10 light seconds of Mars. The outer Belt had four permanent Defense bases, complete with rail-guns, plus the six Challengers. Planetary Defense coordinated almost 60 space planes, flown by crews drawn from the best of the Earth’s top air forces. Ever the old, utterly obsolete space planes that Defense Command had discarded back in the late ë70’s could literally fly circles around the American Space Shuttle & the International Space Station. Despite these facts brave humans were strapping themselves into death traps in hopes that the Enemy, and just as importantly, the Earth’s population would be deceived about Mankind’s abilities.

For Petrovna the worst time had been just before the loss of the American Shuttle Colombia. The Project’s recon satellites had clearly shown the damage to Colombia’s tiles. According to stories only whispered in wardrooms far away from Earth, requests to conduct a rescue mission had gone all the way up the Ladder to the ‘Committee’ only to be turned down. When Columbia had broken up during landing, legend had it that three senior controllers, one from each space plane base, had committed suicide in a coordinated protest.

Petrovna didn’t know how true the entire story was, but she did now that her Siberian SU-58 base had received a new commander on February 4, 2003. Unlike previous changes in command no ceremony was held on that date, and it was made very clear that speculation on the fate of Marshall Kirich was not encouraged.

"Commander?"

The arrival of the sub-lieutenant broke the train of Petrovna’s thoughts. "Yes, David?"

"The Splinter Patrol in Sector Three has just checked in. No Enemy presence detected."

"Very well. Flash them a message to deploy the recon drones and mines as planned and proceed to the next contact point."

"Understood Commander."

The mines were of a proven type. They would lie inert until activated. Once activated they would either continue to float in space, giving off no active emissions or they would rush into the path of the Enemy ship. In either case once they contacted the Enemy’s hull, all hell would break loose. The mine would attach itself to the hull with molecular glue that was designed to react to the material in the Enemy’s hull (thanks to 30 years of research on the Roswell ship). Each mine was a one-kiloton nuclear weapon. In 1991 an Enemy Roswell class probe ship, to judge by the blurry Intel photos, had been destroyed by a minefield. Fortunately the intercept had happened on the far side of Venus, so no cover story had been required. Natilia had to give someone High in Defense Command credit for that kill, when the idea of mining the space around the Inner Planet’s had first been proposed most line officers had laughed at the thought, but the theory had been correct, the Enemy was as likely to attack from closer to the Sun as from the outer system. Natilia had never figured out how the Enemy probe had gotten that far in-system, but they had, the bits of wreckage from the ship were proof.

The recon drones were the latest in technology. The size of an orange, their sensors could detect movement a light second away and on-board AI could determine if the movement was a plain old space rock or an Enemy probe. Natilia had been briefed on the drone before Challenger had left for patrol. If they detect Enemy activity, the drone would activate the minefield that surrounded it out to almost a half light second, send a Flash message to the closest repeating buoys, and track the Enemy contact. If the enemy closed to within 25K kilometers the drone would self-destruct to prevent the Enemy learning about its capabilities. It was a very smart orange. The fact that had really hit her was that the drone’s cost a billion dollars each; Natilia had left base with 300 of them in the hold. By the time Challenger returned home, she and her sisters would have scattered the Gross Domestic Product of France across a portion of the Outer Belt. Natilia occasionally, usually while scattering Billion Dollar Oranges, thought she deserved a raise.

Mitch Hendriks had been President of almost two months when the first meeting of the ‘Committee’ had occurred. To his surprise it was a virtual meeting, not an in-person one. Once he gave it some thought it did make some sense, how else could the Leaders of the Nuclear Powers, a number of other world leader, and some of the top scientist on the Planet meet without causing mass speculation & a media frenzy? Still, it was odd to see the faces of the other members, as well as a view of the entire table (the better, Hendriks imagined, to read body language) without having any actual contact with them.

Hendriks had met a few of the others; Canada’s PM had been the 1st official state visitor, and he had met the British PM & French President during an Economic mini-Summit. Several of the others had spoke to Hendriks on the videophone since his election, including the Russian President and the PRC Chairman. Some of the others were a total unknown, as were their designated representatives. Hendriks ‘designee’, Padrig Thomas, the only other American involved, was not even present; Hendriks was alone in the conference room.

"It appears we are all here. Shall we begin?" The current President of the Committee (really the discussion leader, the post rotated yearly) was the Australian Prime Minister. His place on the Committee had been assured by the Enemy’s interest in British nuclear activities held on Australian territory.

"First, on behalf of the entire Committee, allow me to welcome our newest member, President Mitchell Hendriks of the United States of America, As one of the Charter members of the group, the United States has been an anchor of our efforts from the beginning and I am certain that President Hendriks will be an asset to your work. As is our tradition, I invite President Hendriks, as it is his first meeting, to begin with any question he may have. Mr. President?"

Hendriks was comfortable with this part of the meeting. It was political, and he was a master in that realm, one did not become POTUS without mastery of the political game. "Thank you Prime Minister. Firstly, thank you for your welcome. Frankly I am still coming to terms with this entire situation, it was, unexpected." The comment drew nods from nearly everyone; clearly The Notification was quite stunning to everyone who received it.

"I do have some questions that have not yet been covered in my briefing materials, questions that seem appropriate for the Executive Forum.

"What is the annual cost of the Project?"

One of the small group of ‘experts’ provided the response. "Last year’s expenditures were slightly above one Trillion U.S. Dollars. This amount was ten percent below the average budget for the last five years."

Only his years of experience kept the shock off of Hendricks face. The amount was more than 50% of the entire U.S. Budget. How the hell did the Project survive?

"That is somewhat higher than I had expected."

The Russian President answered Hendriks comment. "Have you never wondered why countries like mine, despite that resources we have, remain so poor? Or why, after the end of the foolishness between our countries has long since ended, your Nation continues to spend a third of your massive Budget on the Military. Surely, you did not believe it was all needed to defeat some madmen living in caves?"

"Actually Mr. President, I had. I campaigned on the promise of reducing the dollars spent there."

"As have many of us. Once in place, we have never followed through, not in any meaningful sense. Now you know why."

"The entire Arms Race wasn’t with the old USSR was it?"

"No Mr. President it was not. At least most of it was not."

Dear God, thought Hendriks. This Project is bankrupting the entire Planet.

"Thank you for that explanation. Next, I have seen no indication of attempts to communicate with the Enemy? What is the status of diplomatic efforts to bring this to a peaceful end?"

The faces on the monitors suddenly displayed a collective gasp of horror. It was the Australian PM who responded.

"We have had no contact, except for Enemy probing attacks, with the Enemy. Ever. In the early years of the Project massive efforts were made to communicate with the Enemy. We had hoped to discover if Roswell, or even the incident in Russia, was simply a misunderstanding, as can sometimes occur between deployed forces on a frontier. There has never been a response of any kind. Never."

"When was the last attempt?"

"Eight years ago. We used you SETI project, as we had in the past. Not directly of course, they have NO knowledge of us, and they are probably the worst possible group that could discover the Project, given their Pollyannish view of Alien life, but they are an excellent way to send out communications. Most people think of them as fools, but they are sometimes useful fools."

"Can we do it again?" Asked Hendriks. "Is it difficult to arrange?"

"You Americans are so sentimental." It was the French designee who had spoken "It was President James who arranged for the last communication attempt. Do you not understand that some things can not be talked out, some enemies that can only be defeated by force?"

Hendriks decided not to respond to the jab, perhaps another time, but not today. "Perhaps we are, I know I am. If we can avoid a war with the Enemy, especially since we do not even KNOW what they want, it would make sense to me to try. Can it hurt to try?"

"No it will not hurt," replied the Australian PM. "Your national designee can make the necessary arrangements. The cost is effectively zero, so no vote is needed."

"Thank you."

"Now, if you have no additional questions"

"Not at this time." Replied Hendriks.

"Excellent. Now to the primary reason for the meeting, we have come to decision time for the Titan Project. The Science Group has confirmed that the Defense Command’s plan to base cruisers out of Titan is possible with current technology. The new cruiser class, the follow up to the Challenger Class, with have to be utilized, as much greater range will be called for from both the cruisers and their fighters. The science Group has also endorsed the idea to place sensors and automated defense on a number of the larger objects in the Kuiper Belt. As was outlined in the briefing papers this will be a long-term project. Completion of the Kuiper Belt warning zone will require at least twenty years, travel time alone will consume nearly two years each way for each construction team, even if constant drive ships are, as recommended, built for them. The Titan orbital base should be operational in twelve to fourteen years. The section of the Defense Command’s plan calling for terraforming Titan, has been recommended against by the Finance Group due to the cost and lack of ROI as Defense can not demonstrate that the terraforming would enhance the Outer Defensive Zone sufficiently over the next thirty years to justify the investment required. Is there a motion to accept the sub-committees recommendations and accept the program as outline in the Briefing Documents?"

"So moved." It was the first time the Brazilian President had spoken.

"I second the motion." The second came from the PRC Premier.

"There is a motion on the table. Please vote in the usual manner."

Hendriks was amazed at the speed of the process. The Committee was voting to spend EIGHT TRILLION DOLLARS over the next twenty years and they had not even debated it. Mother of God!

Hendriks realized that he had to vote on the motion. He used the direct secure line to Padrig "Mr. Thomas, what is your position on this vote?"

"Mr. President, even though the cost is high, a stronger defense further out from Earth makes sense. If we engage the Enemy near Saturn or are warned of his approach while he is still well out of the main Solar System it is a huge advantage. The goal is to protect the Earth. I would recommend that you vote yes."

Hendriks considered the advice. He had not real grasp of the matter, and he frankly wondered how many of counterparts really knew anything about them. He was, he realized, very much dependent on Thomas for his information. If this was the standard on the Committee, the bureaucrats were spending the Planet’s fortune with no oversight. Still-

"Thank you for your input Mr. Thomas." With a very deep breath Hendriks pushed the ‘yes’ button.

Since the secure line was till open, Hendriks took the opportunity to give an instruction. "Mr. Thomas."

"Yes Mr. President."

Take whatever steps required to get the SETI group to begin communication attempts. I want them to begin ASAP and I want them to continue until I say otherwise. I assume you can make that happen?

"I can Mr. President. But why constant attempts?"

"Because I said so Mr. Thomas."

"Yes Sir."

"Good." After he shut down the link and verified that he was not broadcasting to the rest of the Committee, Hendriks spoke to the empty Room. "I be damned if I’ll destroy the world’s economy without even trying to settle this thing."

The motion passed 18-0.

It took almost two months to get the SETI message ready. To Hendriks surprise the delay wasn’t caused by Thomas, about who Hendriks had increasingly serious doubts, but by the SETI scientists themselves.

While they had been correctly described as Pollyannaish in their approach, they were also some of the most brilliant minds in the world. The group had attempted to make contact before and they had failed. They did not want to fail again. The Government controlled SETI’s access to the Very Large Array & the teams never knew when access might be cut off for some other, undoubted less important, purpose. This meant that each attempt had to be the best one that could be created.

The Communication Team had closely reviewed the efforts of the last Team that had made an attempt. They quickly found it wanting. Too little information had been sent, they believed, across too narrow of a bandwidth. The new team had a much more ambitious plan. They had, through some miracle, obtained eight transmission windows, all in the next four weeks, and promises of more in the coming months. Clearly, the new President’s Science Advisor was a secret supporter. This had inspired the team to creative heights rarely seen in such a staid group.

The Message that they had crafted was far more complete, and would go out over a much wider bandwidth, than anything before. It would also, thanks to improvements in data compression technology, be a multimedia program. Besides the normal set of dots & dashes, or even some kind of code primer, the new message would also include a video element, with various words spoken, written, AND shown at the same time. The primary messages would be heavy on mathematics, but sufficient sections in Cantonese, English, French and Russian would be sent that any recipient would be able to construct a response, assuming they used the same logic as humans did. That was the reason for the mathematical element of the message. At the insistence of one of the mathematicians the message would broadcast in relatively narrow, but more powerful sections, It would take the entirety of the eight promised windows to cover 360 degrees of the sky using this method, but since the signals would need to travel tens, if not hundreds, of light years before they were intercepted it was a smart way to go.

On the first day of the messaging, the scientists decided that they would send the message three times with each large message proceeded and followed by a simple pattern of beeps that would be enough to grab any intelligent listener’s attention by the plainly unnatural nature of the pattern. Everyone in the SETI group was confident that the message would be received, assuming there was anyone listening for it. Since they were in SETI that someone was listening was an article of faith. The message WOULD be heard. None of them expected that the reply would come during their careers, indeed during their lives, such were the distances involved in interstellar communication, but they new it would come, some day.

As the latest message from humanity shot away from Earth at the speed of light it didn’t occur to anyone on the team that it would be picked up by someone closer than 10 light years.

Occasionally, even the most brilliant minds lack enough imagination.

10.

The latest communication from the Fleet was most unwelcome. The Commander of the Fleet wanted to know what progress had been made in preparing for the People’s arrival. The fleet was only one quarter cycle away, and it was the duty of the Advanced team to scout out the best landing sites on the new world.

TH’’kr’hT was in a quandary. The Fleet had sought a new home for 6,500 cycles; every ship had been replaced many times. If this Second Planet was not the one, the fleet would need to find a mineral rich system to replace some ships. That would take them at least 75 cycles, meaning all the Adults among the People would die in space, as had so many before. So many times a world had been found, but it was too cold, or lacked the right atmosphere, or, as had happened 1200 cycles ago, was already home to others who would not share. That had been the greatest tragedy, that the others were not willing to share. There had been so few of them, less than the People of the Fleet, and the Planet had been so large, so empty that it easily could have been used by those who had been born there, and by the People. The People had offered much to the natives of the world, things that would have benefited them so greatly. The People had been hundreds of cycles more advanced that the natives. The natives would have been given access to SPACE, with all it had to offer, as well as technologies that could have made life so much better. The Commander of the Landing Preparation Group had done everything possible, even offering to keep the People restricted to a single land area that the natives had not settles, so useless it was. Still they had said no. They had said that they would fight for what they had, fought until they were all dead. So the Team had been forced to signal the Fleet that it had failed, that the natives would not share. So the Fleet had travelled on.

The leader of the GR’ph’fr"SR had argued that they could settle the empty land without hurting anyone, that any fight would have been self defense, that GG"lR’o would not strike the People down, as he had done before. It would not be a war, their leader had argued, it was not forbidden. Landing there, on the unused land, would hurt no one. The natives had no sun bombs; there was no need to fear them, and the GR’ph’fr"SR would do nothing to threaten them, just defend the new land. The Fleet commander had, rightly, rejected this foolish argument. Just landing without invitation would be aggressive.

Being aggressive had put the People where they were. Fighting on a Planet? Impossible! Trying to eliminate sun bombs, as the foolish leader of the Second Survey Team had done was bad enough. He had left 12 members of his team trapped on the new world when he had lost the last scout ship. The survivors had reported that the shuttle had exploded before it ever left the Second Planet’s gravity well. Based on the data that they had, it appeared that the scout’s power source had imploded. It was rare, but it happened.

The loss of the other scout was different. The Earthers had destroyed it, just as they destroyed the first shuttle he had tried to send. He worried that they would not share either. They may have decided that the People could not be trusted. That nothing that TH’’kr’hT could say would make any difference, assuming his translators managed to find a way to allow him to speak at all. The robot looker he had sent reported that the Earthers were building many weapons in space, far fewer than the People had once had, but enough that it was clear that, as a species, they knew war. How they knew war, had sun bombs, and had survived since the arrival of the Second Survey Team was a mystery, but they had. Perhaps they were wiser than the People, although TH’’kr’hT doubted that. Perhaps they had a better control of their GR’ph’fr"SR. Perhaps...

The how didn’t matter. The fact that they could fight, would fight, and had sun bombs was enough. If he could not find a way to ask them to share, the mission was a failure. Without sharing, the People could not even try. As Commander, he had to find a way to make contact. To lose this Second Plant, without even being able to ask, would be intolerable. He could not fail the People so, not after so much trust had been placed in him.

Using his personal code, TH’’kr’hT sent a message to the Fleet Commander. He asked the Commander to slow the Fleet’s progress. He needed more time, perhaps a quarter

Cycle to negotiate. He could only hope that his younger ones succeeded.

Hope for that, and pray that the Earthers would share.

11.

This was 1st time that Hendriks had been able to meet face to face with some of the Committee Members here at the G-8 summit. Knowing he could not be overly obvious, since some of the G-8 were not part of the Committee, something that Hendriks found to be unbelievable when he first realized it. Why Italy, Japan & Germany could not be trusted was far beyond his understanding, especially since the Project was so bloody expensive. Hendriks would have brought them on board just for the economic assist alone. It had taken some doing, especially since he couldn’t tell his staff why he wanted them to meet, but he had managed to get the Russian President and the Prime Minister’s of Canada & Great Britain to agree to a short meeting. The French President had demurred, claiming a previous appointment. Hendriks was far from a prude, but he would have thought that a discussion with the President of the UNITED STATES would have taken precedence over getting one’s ashes hauled. In any case he had to play the hand he had been dealt.

"I want to thank you all for coming. I know my invitation was somewhat vague."

"With some of us," began the Russian President, "Vague is almost like an Advertisement. You clearly wish to discuss something that is best left for other places. I know that you allowed all of our security people to sweep this room, under the very attentive gaze of YOUR security people, but how can we be sure that something has nor been added?"

"Do you recognize this?" Hendriks displayed a pen like device.

"It appears to be something that is of very limited distribution. I have one in a very safe place in Moscow." The other two heads of state nodded their agreement.

"This room is 16 feet square."

"Ah. Very wise. You will be a fine President."

"Thank you. Can we discuss a few things?"

"Yes, but let us remember how important discretion is in some matters." The British PM had spoken the words, but the looks on the other’s faces made clear that it was a common belief.

"Understood. I will try to make this as short as possible. By the way, a rumor is currently being spread that the English speaking countries are trying to cut a side deal with Russia on oil exports. I trust that meets with everyone’s approval?" Since it was the kind of backroom deal that happened at these meetings, it made a decent cover story. The other men nodded their agreement to the subterfuge.

"Excellent. We all have advisors who are sometimes holdovers from earlier Administrations or Governments, They are very important to us as the have knowledge that is often older than our own. Many of my professional State Department people are fall into this category. Do you have persons like this in positions in your countries?"

"I do." Replied the British PM.

"Since I am new in my position, I would ask if any of you have, as you became more familiar with your position, made any of your own appointments to these Foreign Service positions." Hendriks hoped that he wasn’t talking too far around the question, but far enough that it was almost safe.

This time it was the Canadian PM who spoke. "I have not, and if memory serves, no one has made a change in the last six years. Those long service folks are too valuable, wouldn’t the rest of you agree?" The tone of the PM’s voice was exactly what one would have expected in answering a simple question. The look in the eyes of all three of the other men in the room, leaders of three of the greatest economies on Earth, was far different than the tone of voice. All of them looked, to one degree or another, frightened.

So, thought Hendriks, things are not as happy as they seem. "Good to know. No sense in upsetting the applecart, I’ll keep that in mind.

"Moving on, we all know that current immigration policy is very expensive. If we could find a less expensive way of doing things, maybe even talking to the countries that are the source of the problem, and reaching some sort of an accommodation, do you think that their would be general agreement on the matter? At least enough to make some real changes?"

For a long moment no one spoke. Hendriks was about to change to another subject, thinking he had his answer, when the Canadian PM, who had been in office the longest of any of the four leaders, answered.

"I have to say, Mr. President, that a dialog would be welcomed by many of the political leaders involved, but that our professional advisors would strongly recommend against it. It would be quite disruptive to well established doctrines. Many of my people have strongly held beliefs"

Son of a BITCH! I knew it. I goddamn knew it! Advisor my ass. The rage ran quickly through Hendriks mind. Verbally he was the picture of calm, "Interesting. Well it is a serious problem in my country, with the drain on resources that the infrastructure involves. Well, on to a different matter. What do you think our position should be on..."

The meeting continued for another 15 minutes, with subjects of general interest to the four countries being discussed. When the meeting broke up, the Russian President lingered, waiting to be alone with Hendriks.

"You need to be very careful President Hendriks. You seem to be a very good man, one who I look forward to working with in the coming years. Please keep that in mind."

"Thank you. I will. There are some things however-"

"Yes I know Mr. President. Tell me, did you ever wonder why, despite all the anger between the USSR & your country, no war ever broke out between the two systems? Or why The Chinese have never moved to take back Taiwan or punished the Japanese for the damage that Japan inflicted in the Pacific War? Or even why China has not attacked my country? Especially knowing what you have recently learned about our militaries? Clearly, there were ample reasons over the years to allow a war to start. Why has war been avoided?

"I will tell you why. No sane man fights his brother when the wolf is at the door. Remove the wolf, and all manner of evil things may occur. This is something to think about before you banish all wolves my Dear President Hendriks. See you at Dinner."

Hendriks had made his mind up about the Committee, and the entire Project, before the Russian President’s remarks. Now, he hesitated. What if the end of the Project meant that the entire world suddenly broke into war? What if the Russian President was right? Was his first gut feeling about the whole lash-up correct?

Hendriks was now not as sure as he had been. It wasn’t an immediate crisis. He had time to consider his options. It was not like an Alien had parked his spaceship on the White House lawn & rung the doorbell.

12.

The permanent members of the Committee met far more often than the full Committee. On more than one occasion the permanent members had considered going completely underground, not replacing the politicians that came & went with such regularity and seemed to believe that the Committee was under their control. These changes had always been rejected since the politicians, for all their faults, were the source of the money that was needed to defend the Planet. Nevertheless the situation grated on the professionals who ran the Project.

"How much trouble will the new American President be?" asked Robert Davidson. Davidson was the senior member of the Committee, with more than 30 years of service. This made him the acknowledged leader of the professional group. Informal as the position might be, Davidson wielded tremendous power over the Project’s direction. "He seems to be, at first glance, less malleable than President James, and James was a pain in our side for eight years."

The French Advisor replied first, just a whisker faster than most of the others. "He has already begun to cut us out. His meeting at the G-8 with several other politicians was disturbing."

The head of the Finance Group spoke next. "His actions are well within standards, Every time one of the major political position changes hands this happens. We just don’t see it very often these days, so it seems unusual. We have had a very long period of stability in the primary chairs. Since the British Prime Minister came into power four years ago, none of the major nations have changed leaders. We need to be prepared for more changes, several other major seats are nearly turnover in the next year or two,"

Davidson nodded his understanding of Finance’s remarks. "In that case the Political Group needs to prepare the usual files on the contenders for the seats. Although our efforts failed in the case of President Hendriks, we need to influence as many of the upcoming election as possible. The last thing we need is a bunch of amateurs trying to take over the Project."

This time, Padrig Thomas beat everyone else with his reply. "President Hendriks will likely lose interest once his communication efforts fail. It is, as we all know, for the political members to think that this can be talked out. They are, after all, masters in that arena. When the Enemy fails to reply to this SETI effort, Hendriks will gradually lose interest as other domestic issues become important."

"If necessary we can create some internal "crisis" to draw his attention." The head of the Political Group spoke up, "it would not the first time we have done something like that. Nothing that would cause a major destabilization, perhaps a spike in oil prices, that has proved effective in the past."

Thomas grinned his reply "just as long as we let it calm down again. My gas bill is already too high!"

The laughter allowed some of the tension to drain from the room.

"Do we know," began Davidson, "what Hendriks discussed at the G-8"

"We do not." This time it was the Security Group leader who answered. "Hendriks is, unfortunately, quite intelligent. He allowed all three of the other security teams to sweep for devices before his own team checked for bugs. He was very careful to exclude Reed from any of preparations, and our other agent on the detail was not part of the sweep or security team for the meeting. He also used his jammer/recorder during the meeting. This should have given us access, since we can read anything on the recorder, but, either intentionally or by blind luck, the President placed the recorder next to a fan & we have been able to recover almost nothing."

"I believe that my President communicated the legend that I have impressed on him." The Russian Advisor seemed disgustingly pleased with himself. "He waited, as I had always recommended, until the lesser leaders left."

This description of their Prime Ministers drew dirty look from the British & Canadian advisors, amateurs or not, the Prime Ministers were still THEIR amateurs and leaders of their countries. Seeming oblivious to the reaction his remark had generated the Russian continued "If he properly passed on the legend, which is very likely, he will have given Hendriks a reason to reexamine any foolish idea he may have been considering."

The Committee nodded their agreement. The legend that the Project’s existence had been solely responsible for preventing World War Three had been carefully planted in the mind of any Political member that seemed to be likely to believe it. Currently, it echoed in the minds of the Russian, French and Chinese leaders, whispering that the horrors of the other World Wars were only held at bay by the existence of the Project. The Legend had begun as a snide comment made by Khrushchev at the conclusion of the 1962 Missile Crisis. Khrushchev had told British PM Macmillan that; "Except for those damned dragons, things would be very different." From this comment, the Project permanent members had constructed the Legend. It had served the Project well ever since.

Davidson smiled at the thought of the Russian president unwittingly aiding the Permanent Committee. Political leaders were so easy to manipulate. Some threats, some privileged access, some well thought out stories and they were puppets on a string. Soon Hendriks would join the rest, becoming nothing more that a money source in the battle to protect the Planet, as he should be. Things are always best left in the hands of the experts. Defeating the Enemy was no different. Davidson moved on to other, more important business, confident that Hendriks presented no long-term problem.

A weakness caused by years of power is complacency. It is human nature & no one is immune. The more powerful one is, the worse the effect, even for Project members. Davidson, like most in power, had long since forgotten this.

It is a very bad thing to forget.

13.

In the post 9/11 United States it was impossible for a person to be elected President without having served in the military. For the most part, this meant some reserve duty or a short stint in the active forces. Hendriks was no exception to this standard, except for one, rather important, qualifier. His campaign handouts, like those from all of his competitors, featured a photo of Hendriks in uniform. Hendriks photos always showed his left side, this was to better display his Master Parachutist Wings, CBI, Airborne and Ranger Tabs, and 75^th Ranger Unit Scroll. Hendriks had done more than simply serve in the military, he had, as the saying went, "seen the elephant", and had done so more that once in the service of his country. No one could be sure, but in a tougher than expected run for the White House the facts surrounding his service may have made the difference.

It had been several months into his Presidency before "Mitch" had been able to host a reception for his former mates in the White House. It was never too soon to get ready for the next election, as all the networks had pointed out, and Presidents loved to have receptions; two days before the Ranger group had visited the White House, Hendriks had hosted the NCAA women’s Soccer champions. The media had duly given a quick blurb about the reception, mostly due to the presence of a Medal of Honor recipient from Viet Nam, and promptly forgotten about the event, exactly has Hendriks has hoped.

While Hendriks had enjoyed seeing the old group, and he had taken full advantage of the photo ops it presented, he had wanted the reunion for a very different reason as well. Thomas & The Notification had, as was intended, had a strong emotional impact on the new POTUS. The emotions had included the desired shock and quick stab of fear, but it had also caused a couple of emotions in the former Ranger, that had not been intended. One emotion had been fairly innocent, namely curiosity; the other, rage, had not been expected or desired. The rage had settled into a carefully maintained smoldering anger, an emotion that years of political practice had taught Hendriks to keep well hidden. Hendriks first Committee meeting had not made things any better, so the photo op had also had a far more important agenda.

Hendriks had taken the opportunity to speak to several men he knew & trusted more than any other persons on Earth. He had told these men exactly what he needed them to know, not a bit more, just in case Thomas’ threat had been more than bluster; not that Hendriks worried about someone doing harm to any of the men to whom he had spoken. Lots of people had tried to bring harm to them, often in situations that remained hidden deep in classified files that would never see the light of day. None had succeeded and most had gone to their maker in the course of the attempt.

One of the first fruits of his talks was now sitting on his desk. The envelope had taken a somewhat evasive route to his desk. It had been mailed to the widow of a onetime Command Sergeant Major of the 75^th. It had then been hand carried to several different cutouts, some ex-military, others retired members of certain three letter U.S. Government agencies until it wound up in the hands of the National Security Advisor, another person Hendriks trusted implicitly. Hendriks had only the vaguest knowledge of how the letter had made it’s way to his desk and no idea who had written it. He knew it was from someone who was absolutely trustworthy, both to Hendriks, and far more importantly, to his oath to "preserve, protect, and defend". THREATEN the President of the United States? That wasn’t acceptable. This letter was the first step in proving that.

MY COMPANY WAS TASKED TO FOLLOW THOMAS, PADRIG FROM MARCH 1 THROUGH THIS DATE. SUBJECT’S MOVEMENTS WERE ROUTINE THROUGHOUT THIS PERIOD, WITH THE FOLLOWING EXCEPTIONS.

ON JULY 15 SUBJECT WENT TO DULLES INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT, WITH ONE PIECE OF CARRY-ON LUGGAGE UTILIZING TAXI. SUBJECT’S ATTIRE WAS BUSINESS CASUAL. THROUGH AVAILABLE SOURCES THE FLIGHT NUMBER AND DESTINATION OF SUBJECT WERE OBTAINED. SPACE WAS FOUND, THROUGH USUAL SOURCES, ON SAME FLIGHT. FLIGHT DESTINATION WAS SAN FRANCISCO. ARRANGEMENTS FOR BACK UP UPON ARRIVAL IN SAN FRANCISCO WERE MADE THROUGH USUAL METHODS. FLIGHT WAS UNREMARKABLE.

SUBJECT RENTED VEHICLE UPON ARRIVAL IN SAN FRANCISCO. CHOICE OF RENTAL PROVIDER APPEARED TO BE RANDOM; NO RESERVATION APPEARED TO BE UTILIZED. SUBJECT PAID WITH CREDIT CARD (TRANSACTION DETAILS ARE INCLUDED IN DETAIL DOCUMENTS ENCLOSED IN ENVELOPE MARKED ENCLOSURE #1). BACK UP TEAM ONE ASSUMED RESPONSIBILITY FOR SUBJECT DURING VEHICLE PICK-UP. VEHICLE PICK-UP APPEARED TO BE UNREMARKABLE. INITIAL SURVEILLANCE PERSONNEL RETURNED TO EAST COAST THREE HOURS AFTER ARRIVAL

SURVEILLANCE FROM AIRPORT WAS CONDUCTED BY STANDARD THREE CAR TEAM CONTACT WITHIN TEAM WAS MAINTAINED VIA STANDARD TACTICAL COMMUNICATION DEVICES. DEVICES HAVE RECEIVED SPECIALIZED UPGRADE TO ENSURE COMMUNICATION SECURITY UNDER ALL POSSIBLE CIRCUMSTANCES. SUBJECT PROCEEDED SOUTH FROM AIRPORT UNTIL ARRIVAL AT SUPPOSEDLY DEACTIVATED MILITARY BASE. ACCESS TO BASE WAS NOT POSSIBLE WITHIN CONTRACT INSTRUCTIONS. (AS REQUESTED, MEETING LOCATION HAS BEEN SENT UNDER SEPARATE COVER.) SECOND SURVEILLANCE TEAM WAS CONTACTED TO ASSIST WITH PERIMETER SURVEILLANCE. TEAM MEMBERS DID NOT OBSERVE COUNTER -SURVEILLANCE ACTIVITIES. ONE MEMBER OF EACH FIVE-MAN TEAM WAS TASKED TO OPERATION SECURITY. TEAMS WERE NOT COMPROMISED.

SUBJECT REMAINED AT SITE FOR SEVEN (7) HOURS. SUBJECT LEFT FACILITY BY DIFFERENT ROUTE THAN THAT FOLLOWED INBOUND TO LOCATION, FOLLOWING STANDARD ANTI-SURVEILLANCE PRACTICES. RETURN ROUTE AND TIME OF DAY RESULTED IN RETURN TRIP BEING CONSIDERABLY LONGER THAN INBOUND TRIP. TEAM ONE SHADOWED SUBJECT UNTIL SUBJECT RETURNED TO AIRPORT. RENTAL CAR RETURN APPEARED UNREMARKABLE. ONE MEMBER OF TEAM ONE, CARRYING SUITABLE LUGGAGE, WAS TASKED TO CONTINUE SURVEILLANCE OF SUBJECT INSIDE AIRPORT. AS WAS DONE ON INBOUND FLIGHT SUBJECT’S FLIGHT INFORMATION WAS OBTAINED, TICKET OBTAINED, AND SURVEILLANCE MAINTAINED ON RETURN FLIGHT TO DULLES INTERNATIONAL. FLIGHT WAS UNREMARKABLE. SUBJECT RETURNED TO RESIDENCE VIA TAXI (DIFFERENT CAB COMPANY USED FOR RETURN).

TEAM TWO REMAINED AT MEETING SITE FOR TO OBTAIN ADDITIONAL INTEL, PER CONTRACT. OVER 30 MINUTE PERIOD 15 VEHICLES WERE OBSERVED TO LEAVE FACILITY THAT HAD BEEN ENTERED BY SUBJECT. TACTICAL SITUATION PREVENTED ON-GOING SURVEILLANCE OF THESE TARGETS. RECOMMEND ADDITIONAL RESOURCES BE AUTHORIZED FOR FUTURE MEETINGS.

NO COUNTER-SURVEILLANCE ACTIVITY WAS OBSERVED DURING ANY PART OF OPERATION. INVOICES FOR ADDITIONAL EXPENSES ARE ENCLOSED.

Hendriks wondered exactly who his friends had contacted. He did know that they had planned to use a private company comprised of ex-Special Forces operators to do the actual work. This was a better idea than it first appeared. A number of businesses, run by former operators, had sprung up over the years to provide corporate security. His old associates would know which one to contract to do this particular job. Especially important was the fact that several cutouts existed between the contractor and the White House. Even if discovered, no one could implicate Hendriks or the American Government in the surveillance.

The first piece of Hendriks’ plan to learn what was actually going on in the Project has in place. The real question had not been addressed, but knowing a meeting place was a start. Perhaps the Committee was getting sloppy, the lack of counter surveillance was surprising. In any case no one had been killed, as his Project contacts had threatened would occur. Now, the question was if he could find enough absolutely trustworthy men without tipping his hand.

The game was just beginning. Hendriks was working two moves ahead. He could only hope that the Committee was still asleep.

14.

The SETI communication hit TH’’kr’hT command like a multi channel anvil. The amount of data his ships were receiving suddenly expanded a thousand-fold. The sheer volume of it threatened to overwhelm the recording systems. The GR’ph’fr"SR leader had tried to convince TH’’kr’hT that the energy burst was actually a weapon, but it quickly became clear that it was a communication beam. What puzzled the Commander was that it obviously had not been sent to his ships, the spread of the beam was too wide for that. This message had been beamed into deep space, at a right angle to the system’s elliptical plane. The Earther’s seemed to be sending it out into space as an invitation. Had they changed their mind? Did they WANT the People to make contact? TH’’kr’hT knew that different Species had different ways of thinking, one only had to look at the GR’ph’fr"SR and how they saw things to realize that, and the GR’ph’fr"SR were cousins of the People, They had evolved on the same Planet, in the same conditions and had shared the long voyage with the People, but they had a very different way of looking at things. The results of an entirely different Creation were bound to be almost impossible to understand.

The AU’!oi"’, those amazing spacefarers who the People had encountered so many cycles ago, had been almost impossible to conceptualize, much less talk to. They had evolved on a low gravity world and they could literally fly on their Homeworld. This had resulted in a perception and language that bore no resemblance to that of the People. Had it not been for the AU’!oi"’ translators no information could have ever been shared. The AU’!oi"’ had been spacefarers for 20, 000 cycles or more, their calling was to explore and they had learned to communicate with different species, whatever their origins. It was AU’!oi"’ translation crunchers that were trying to make sense of the Earther tongues. The AU’!oi"’ had been a wonderful race, based on the old records. They had spent almost 1000 cycles assisting the People in their search for a home world, different ships sending long-range messages with survey results back to the Fleet. The People had mourned when they reached the end of AU’!oi"’ space, in all of the days since GV"NC’HTR"kh" they had been the only ones who had tried to share with the People, actually wanted to help them end their long voyage. The AU’!oi"’ had not understood why the People would want to end their voyage, their life was voyage, but they had done everything they could to help the People anyway.

Yes, perhaps the Earthers had changed, and they WANTED to share. TH’’kr’hT hoped so, but he could not be sure until his Young Ones made sense of the bounty they had received.

TH’’kr’hT had a difficult decision that he could no longer avoid. The surviving members of the Second Survey Team were still stranded on the New World. They had asked many times when the Landing Preparation Team would be arriving. They had been without proper shelter for many cycles, since the last of their scout ships had destroyed itself. They had managed, the New World was, according to them, nearly Paradise, with sufficient supplies of food and Ship normal temperatures cycle round. Still, they had been living rough for far too long. There was also the problem of companionship. The survivors were from three different Commons, with the HT""GG’"rK" all coming from the same Common. How the FS"rt’PH"’ of a Team Commander had allowed such a situation to happen was beyond TH’’kr’hT understanding. That he had created such a powder keg on a SURVEY MISSION was nearly as bad as his decision to interfere with the Earthers. The survivors had asked, in all humbleness, that they be recovered. It was a completely reasonable request, but TH’’kr’hT was not sure if he could honor it before establishing communication with the Earthers. They could see the relief mission as a provocation or an attack, as they had seen the last two shuttles that TH’’kr’hT had sent. He had no desire to lose eight of the People in an attempt to bring twelve, who were surviving sufficiently, if not in great comfort, home.

Once again it all fell to the Young Ones. He was a wise enough Commander to know that they were working as hard as was possible; their Junior Leader had told him six watches ago that they had isolated two of the Earther tongues from the jumble coming from the Planet, that, in itself, was a miracle. Still, perhaps it was time to pay their work area a visit, just to remind them of the importance of their Task.

TH’’kr’hT decided he would give them nine watches to work before he appeared. With the new communication received, they would be too unsettled for his visit to be effective.

The survivors on the New World would have to wait until he could communicate with the Earthers.

15.

The Defense Command had viewed the series of SETI broadcasts as insanity of the highest order. Sending a MESSAGE to the Enemy? Perhaps they could follow up with serving instruction for barbequed human. Stupid civilians.

The Challenger had caught the first of the messages, as had her Splinters. Pilots in the middle of mining operations had contacted Petrovna before the third repeat of the message had even left Earth. There remarks had, fortunately, come in using the Challenger’s special code group, Planetary Command could, decode them if they wanted, but at least they hadn’t been lased off in the clear for everyone with access to a relay terminal to copy. Thank God for small favors.

Natilia had a crew of over fifty under her command, counting the Splinter pilots, even though the pilots seemed to think of themselves as a force apart from the Challenger. She knew that this was common, even in the case of the Ocean navies on Earth, but their attitude was going to make her job just that much more difficult. Petrovna had already been inundated with complaints from her department heads as the news of the message had spread. Her life would have been so much easier if the jackass that had sent out the message had simply slapped a classification on the thing, at least then EVERYONE on the ship wouldn’t be atwitter concerning it.

"Lieutenant, I have already answered that question. Are you attempting to make me lose my patience?"

The look on the engineer’s face made the answer to her question clear, but the youngster pressed on. "Captain, I’m sorry, but my team are asking for answers and I do not have them."

"Neither do I, Lieutenant. This falls under strategic policy. Planetary Command often makes strategic decisions without requesting my prior approval. This seems to be one of those cases. I suggest that you tell your team to keep themselves occupied with the drive system and leave the rest to Planetary Command. Dismissed."

The engineer brought himself into the posture closest to Attention that was possible in Zero-Gee turned and more or less swam out of the compartment.

"Captain. This is the signals officer. We have a Commander Code message that has just arrived. It has a Priority Three prefix. Would you like it sent to the Bridge?"

What now, thought Natilia. Aloud she said, "Yes send it up. I will decode here." The message appeared on her console almost instantly, with the red "Command Code" warning flashing on the screen. Setting the screen to privacy, Petrovna entered her Commander P.I.N. and waited for the computer to decide if it wanted to display the message. After a few seconds the message appeared.

****TO ALL STATIONS****

**SUBJECT: RECENT BROADCASTS**

BROADCASTS ARE PART OF ONGOING CIVILIAN RESEARCH DATING BACK FIFTY (50) YEARS.

NO RESPONSE TO BROADCAST EXPECTED.

NO CHANGE IN ENEMY STATUS IS EXPECTED DUE TO BROADCAST.

COMMANDERS AUTHORIZED TO RELATE ABOVE TO CREWS.

ALL FORCES OUTSIDE OF LUNAR ORBIT ARE TO MAINTAIN DEFENSE CONDITION THREE.

LUNAR ANTI-SHIP UNITS ARE TO MAINTAIN DEFENSE CONDITION THREE.

ALL OTHER FORCES ARE TO MAINTAIN DEFENSE CONDITION FOUR.

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT UNCHANGED. ALL HOSTILE UNITS ARE TO BE ATTACKED IMMEDIATELY UPON DETECTION. ALL ATTACKS ARE TO BE PROSECUTED TO KILL.

ADMIRAL V. ADEN SENDS

PLANETARY DEFENSE COMMANDER

****END MESSAGE****

So, thought Petrovna, it isn’t the Defense Command that has lost its mind. It is just the civilians being civilians. Again.

That will be easy to explain to the crew. They were used to civilians being weird.

To Part 2

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