ARIA (5 page)

He never doubted that Karen would try to get him patched in. But as time drifted, he worried that the pre-emptive activity of Tipless, instead of precipitating the investigation, would fudge it. Politicians might get involved. He groaned. He’d met Caroline Diazem, the President, at a rally. Her arrogance was such that nothing about the case would be released to the public unless the aliens gave her a glorious endorsement.

The waiting reminded him of his childhood weekends. Ryder’s father was a teacher in order to spend long holidays trekking. Friends were impressed knowing that Ryder had been the world over, peering over the planet from mountain tops every weekend. But the reality was a distant mother, who preferred her Surbiton wine circle to base camp. Rock scrambling over the Peak District scarp slopes was brilliant, but waiting your turn in the cold drizzle at the bottom of a near-vertical cliff drained all Ryder’s enthusiasm for the sport. On the other hand, it gave him time to listen to his digi-media player; music and
Hitch Hikers’ Guide to the Galaxy
.

Ryder’s childhood recollections disorientated his concentration; his shoulders drooped, then jolted back when the web-cam window burst into bright light.

“Teresa, we’re in.” But she’d gone to bed, leaving him a plate of sausage sandwiches for dinner.

He called Derek O’Connor at his Imax TV studio again and got the answering machine. “Derek, even if you’re not interested in this piece of history taking place, I’d like the studio to record my link, so don’t erase it, yeah?” This would give Ryder a back-up beyond his own equipment at home. He could put it on the web, but he might find himself incarcerated in the public interest.

A sudden movement on screen caught Ryder’s eye. A technician had ambled in front of the case. He wore a white lab coat but no biohazard suit.

Ryder’s pulse raced when he realized the sound was off. Oops, too loud. The speaker filled his room with laughter. Not just an embarrassed, I-shouldn’t-be-here giggle, but raucous belly busting.

Another voice joined in. “What about the one I want to die like my grandfather, happy and in my sleep, not in terror and screaming like his passengers.” Both technicians fell about in derision as if there was no mystery case in there with them. To Ryder’s amazement, the off-screen joker walked in, straight up to the case and waved his hand over the logo. His eyes widened when it opened.

For the first time, Ryder had a clear view of the strange-coloured blocks inside.

Ryder was hoarse shouting to Teresa, who strolled in rubbing her eyes.

“Bloody hell.”

“Exactly.”

Teresa slumped in an armchair. “Security’s bound to charge in at any moment.”

Ryder stood with excitement. “He’s trying to lift one of the blocks.”

“They’ve already tested for toxic emissions, yes?”

“Not finished. There’s no radiation or gases, though their temperature is a degree above ambient.”

“So something’s happening in there.”

“Producing laughing-gas, apparently.” Ryder turned his head toward the faint buzzing from the next room. “Is that my mobile?”

Teresa couldn’t take her eyes off the screen. “You left it in the bedroom.”

Ryder ran before it rang off. “Hey, Manuel, exciting stuff.”

“Yeah, we’re about to test a prototype data-gatherer into the sun’s corona.”

“Why’s that, Manuel? Did the one last week fail?”

“Sorry, Ryder, what are you talking about? I can never tell when you’re teasing. Anyway I assume you want a pass?”

“Manny, I was there for the Corona Discovery launch, but NASA sent me back to the UK when the case arrived. Remember?”

“What case, Ryder? Oh, never mind, everything’s going nuts around here. Head’s killing me. I’m desperate for some sleep. Sheila kept me up all night—you can guess, eh? See ya, Ryder.”

Mystified, Ryder sat hard on a chair. It was unlike Manuel Gomez to get so confused. It was his extraordinary organisational abilities that kept him in his job at Edwards. Perhaps he’d had a few too many. But then what was that about his fiancée, Sheila? He’d split up with her last time they talked.

Teresa’s excited voice broke through. “Ryder, come and see this.”

There were so many technicians and security people milling around in the lab, the case couldn’t be seen.

Ryder contacted Karen at her home in Washington.

“Hi, Ryder. Hurry up, Brother, dear. I’ve to get some mince for our tea.”

“Good God, Karen, never mind the shopping, what’s happening in the lab?”

“Which lab, Ryder?”

“The one with the case from Dryden—there’s unprotected people all over it.”

“Really? What case? How’s Teresa?”

“I’ll get back to you, Karen. Bye, and take care.”

He wished he could’ve seen her, but she must have been using her wristwatch-phone.

“I wish I’d talked to her instead,” Teresa said.

“Why? She’s obviously been infected with something relating to the case. Just because you talk about kids and clothes…”

“Idiot. It could be her confusion is just tiredness.”

“There’s the ultra-rational biologist coming out in you, Teresa. Been on any psycho courses lately?”

“Don’t need to. I live with a real, live nutter, don’t I?”

“I suppose the crowd of people in the room was a mass-hysteria effect?”

“You don’t know what decisions had been made higher up, do you? They might’ve determined there’s no back-contamination issues, no putative organisms floating around and so withdrew the access restrictions.”

“How likely is that?” Ryder raked his fingers through his hair as if it helped nearby brain cells.

“Fair enough. I would keep it secure for a month. So would you, but we’re not there. Perhaps you’d better try Derek again to see if his contacts can be alerted to the situation.” Her hand went to the plate. “Hey, you ate my sandwiches. Right, I’m throwing together a spag-bol.”

R
YDER
RANG
D
EREK
. “It’s about the situation at Goddard and maybe at Dryden.”

“That’s where you and Manuel Gomez had a freebie trip wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Derek, but there’s a developing problem.”

“In what way, Ryder?”

“The case that the astronauts sent back from the ISS appears to be affecting technicians who have been up close to it.”

“Who exactly?”

“Manuel, Tipless—the technician who opened the case–”

“That’s two, who else?”

“My sister Karen. She works at Goddard, and the worrying thing is that she’s not been near the case but mixed with staff who have.”

“And what’s the developing problem with these three individuals, Ryder?”

Ryder paused, tapped his fingers on his desk as if it was a miniature piano. Distraction therapy to calm himself down in case Derek thinks he’s losing it. “They’re acting strange and forgetful.”

“Like someone not a million miles from here. Ryder, you’d be worried about your sister. Maybe your creative imagination is getting the better of you.”

“Derek, just allow the possibility of something going awry because of the artefact found on the space station.”

“Go on.”

Ryder knew he could appeal to Derek’s self-importance. “You’ve met NASA’s chief administrator, Robert Keefo.”

“So?”

“Could you get on to him? Let him know there appear to be problems with staff conn—”

“No way, Ryder; three reasons. One: don’t you think he would know already if there were problems with his staff? Two: he wouldn’t thank us for interfering in what’s just your warped mind. Three: you’re not supposed to be spying for us. Brief me with an update tomorrow.”

Ryder had to leave the call empty-handed. At least he wasn’t told to abandon what he considered to be the biggest news item ever—even if he was the only one to think so. It could be that Manuel, Karen, and the techies were just overtired, confused, or intoxicated with excitement. If it was more than that, then it would be more developed at Edwards, maybe with the technicians who handled the case. Ryder banged his fist on his desk, making his cup rattle as he realized it was too late to ask Manuel for their phone numbers.

Wednesday 15 April 2015:

The day of the arrival of the case at Dryden Laboratories, Edwards Air Force Base.

I
T
WASN
’
T
EVERY
DAY
Jack Balin was told to put an alien suitcase onto the lab-specimen table. Even though he wore the anonymity of a biohazard suit, he beamed at the privilege. He couldn’t wait to tell his wife, Irene. Payback after all her carping on about his low technician’s pay. It would be sweeter still when he gathered his stepchildren to tell them. Eddie, who at thirteen, absorbed and magnified any snippet of space news. Debbie, a hardnosed cynic at nine years old would say, “boring,” but her eyes would deny it. Of course, he shouldn’t tell them anything, but it was too hard not enriching their evening mealtimes with sneaked information when the fireman next door filled his kids with incinerating awe every day.

He couldn’t leave the lab area until reporting the slight leak in his biohazard suit to his shift super. Nothing unusual, and it would be patched for the next time, again. He nattered to the evening cleaning crew as he jotted perfunctory answers on a clipboard. In his outside clothes, he sauntered down the corridor where the smell of fresh coffee drew him into the staff room.

“Hey, Jack,” called Ken Hardman, from a corner table. “Bring your coffee over here.”

“Can’t stop, Ben, bus leaves for Rosamond in ten.”

“Well, between slurps, Jack, how heavy was that case? Tony here reckons it must be full of Russian stash.”

Jack joined in the laughter. “Too heavy for any of you guys.” They knew he mustn’t talk about it, even though he was going to at home. Maybe it was a tinge of guilt making his head buzz.

He drained the coffee and nodded at the dozen colleagues before heading on down the corridor. Hurried footsteps made him turn to see his supervisor.

“Jack, glad I’ve caught you. Come in two hours earlier tomorrow, can you? Overtime rate?”

“Sure.”

Jack reached the exit and he chatted to a guard for a minute as he signed out.

With his shirt sticking to his back in the Mojave Desert heat, Jack caught the bus to his hometown of Rosamund. By the time he disembarked, his head hurt real bad, and he’d no idea what he’d done that morning. He kinda knew he should have been celebrating something. Heck, it was damned hot.

Shaking his head and stirring his legs into action, he convinced himself he’d be all right with a drink and a lie down at home.

Just in time he remembered it was his turn to provide the family meal, obliging him to call in at a KFC. The queue shuffled amiably enough. The wallpaper music masked the fuzziness in his head.

He was dizzy by the time he tumbled the paper bucket full of battered chicken and fries onto his kitchen table. He grabbed a glass and wouldn’t talk until he’d filled it with water and swallowed it. Through the distorted bottom of the glass, he saw his wife Irene holding a salad ladle up.

“Jack, you brought home dinner yesterday. I’ve started a salad for tonight.”

“I have to be in by six tomorrow,” he told her, pleased he remembered something and blurting it out in case it left him later.

Sitting at the table, he splattered ketchup over all the food.

“Aw, Jack. No.”

“It’ll be overtime rate.”

“You know I don’t eat ketchup.”

“Sorry, Reenie. You won’t forget to get me up for the bus, will you?”

“I’ll have to scrape it all off now. Eddie, don’t stuff it in your mouth like that.”

He realized his step-daughter was talking to him. “You all right, Jack?”

“He’s tired. Leave him be, Debbie.”

“I’m okay, kid. I’ll get the bread and cola.” He stood, then staggered to the sink.

Irene followed him and gave him a comforting hug. “Are you okay, honey?”

“Sure—it’s been a funny kinda day.”

“Damn hot, that’s for certain.”

“I mean at work. Can’t you get nothing right?”

“Oh, get you. Don’t take your work stress out on us, you pig.”

Eddie ran in, disrupting the developing fight. “Jack, you promised to tell me…” It broke the spell.

“What promise, Ed?”

“You know—about astronauts and stuff.”

“Well, Eddie, something different did happen today…what was it. Something to do with aliens.”

All the family shrieked with laughter. He stomped to the ugly white fridge and grabbed a beer to gulp and sulk till bedtime.

T
HURSDAY
16 A
PRIL
2015

Jack pushed soggy cereal around his breakfast bowl.

“You’ll be late for your bus, Jack. It’s half past seven.”

He knuckled his forehead. Something was missing. He pushed back his chair and strolled to the door. He looked back, still miffed he couldn’t think what was wrong.

As he paused, Eddie called from watching TV.

“Hey, Jack, you messing with this case-thing on the news?”