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“Exactly. If in 1985 ET hops to it and sends a powerful signal right back to us, it would take another seventy-five years for us to receive it. It won’t get here until the year 2060.”

“Okay, why can’t we just detect their TV transmissions?”

“Those signals are just too weak. We don’t have equipment sensitive enough to detect them.”

The president and Gordon Guccio bustled into the conference room. Charli checked her watch.

Guccio raised his eyebrows and jerked his head back when he saw Charli. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

She frowned.
What’s going on?
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“Shouldn’t you be out looking for Bubble Boy?” It got a good laugh from everyone but Charli.

The heat rose into her cheeks. Golubkhov’s prediction about seeing the man Charli loves in a bubble had gone viral within the bunker. “Very funny. I don’t know what made me share that with anyone. You know, maybe she meant ‘bubble-
head
’ and she was talking about you, Gordon.”

Seth McGraw sang a few measures from the song “Tiny Bubbles.” It was so shocking and so out of character that everyone stopped and stared at him then burst into laughter. He had a pretty good voice, too. Young clapped him on the shoulder.

“I swear,” Hallstrom said “that you guys all joined the government just for the laughs. Now you’ve even infected Seth. Can we pretend, for a second, that we are serious people running the strongest nation on earth, and that the human race is threatened?” He looked around. “Okay?”

Hallstrom sat down. “Okay. We’re here to talk about the plans that Cronkite uploaded, see what Seth has figured out about them, and decide what to do. Seth?”

“Right. Well, we knew that Cronkite’s civilization has learned our language, knows our history or they have some kind of universal translator. So it’s not a big surprise that he has access to our internet. The plans just appeared on WikiLeaks for anyone to see.”

Guccio cut in, “We tried denying access to the site, to keep the plans private, but that wasn’t practical. The instant they appeared, they went viral. You can see them on sites like AlienPlans.org and MyFavoriteMartian.com.”

Hallstrom said, “Stay serious, Gordon.”

“No, that’s a real web site devoted to Cronkite. One of many,” he said. “We tried to control it, but it was a game of whack-a-mole. Shut down one, and another would pop up.”

“Obviously, Cronkite intended to make them public,” Charli said. “That’s why he chose WikiLeaks.”

“Right.” McGraw continued. “IBSR is handling the coordination of the scientists around the world, together with the International Association of Engineers.”

Guccio said, “Hold on. IBSR?”

McGraw looked at him. “Sorry. That’s the International Board of Scientific Research. The groups are insuring that there isn’t too much duplication of effort around the world. We have plans for over forty devices, and the boards are checking that everyone isn’t making a salad.”

Everyone looked at him.

“You know,” McGraw said, “when you go to a potluck, if it isn’t organized, everyone might make a salad, with no one bringing a dessert. The coordination insures that all the plans get looked at.”

He continued. “So, back to the devices. The thing is, the plans themselves are hard to understand. You might expect each plan to start with some kind of description of what it is. ‘This is a plan for a transporter,’ or ‘This device is a raygun.” That’s not the case. And all the plans are different, like they are from totally different civilizations.” McGraw picked up his tablet to control the wall display.

“For example, here’s an image from a plan that is clearly a space elevator.” McGraw displayed a view from space of a green planet with a cylinder that extended down to the surface. He pointed. “You can see a gondola here. By the way, this is a photograph of a completed project, not a drawing.” The next slide showed a line-drawing of a small device. “But here’s a plan for something that looks like a TV remote.”

“What does it do?” asked Hallstrom.

“No idea. Some plans come with a legend. Some of those legends include the periodic table of the elements. For this one, it’s immediately recognizable.” McGraw displayed the next slide, a chart just like one that might appear on the wall of a chemistry room, except that it was upside down and backwards. None of the symbols were recognizable. “But check out this one.” The next slide showed the elements as a complex spiral with three separate loops.

McGraw turned off the image. “Because the plans are so different from one another, I’ve concluded that they were collected from a number of different alien civilizations.”

“I’m missing something here,” Hallstrom said. “I don’t see how we can have enough in common with the designers that we could possibly build these plans.”

“I understand, and for some devices you’re right, but some plans hold our hands and show us how to get started. Some of the plans are strictly software, by the way. But we’re working our way through them and hope to have some of the easier ones built soon.” McGraw put down his tablet.

“Hold on.” Young held up a hand. “Isn’t there something we’re forgetting here?”

Everyone looked at him.

“Don’t we need to decide whether we’re going to build these or not? I hate to rain on your parade, but I see some negative outcomes here.”

Guccio was nodding and the president asked, “Such as?”

“Okay. Let’s say some aliens want to destroy us, but instead of sending troops they just give us these plans and say ‘Greetings Earthlings, here’s a plan for a magic can opener.’ We build it, and it causes a chain reaction that destroys the planet.”

After a dramatic pause, Young went on. “Or maybe it’s a Trojan horse. We build a transporter and out pour interplanetary warriors.”

“It’s good that you consider these things, but I have to say that you don’t know what you’re talking about here,” said McGraw.

“And you do?”

“These are issues that have been discussed in the SETI field for years. The main problem with your idea is that you don’t see the vast difference in our technology and theirs. They’re no more threatened by us than we are threatened by the ants in the grass.”

“Then why does every hardware store carry ant killer?” Young crossed his arms.

McGraw’s shoulders dropped. When it came to arguing, politicians were in a whole different league from scientists.
Poor Seth
.

McGraw said, “The ants aren’t thirty or a hundred light years away with no ships to travel that distance. They can crawl right into our house. We’re not even on the aliens’ radar—” He bit that last sentence off, probably realizing his error.

“I’d say we just appeared on their radar, literally. Plus, we have to consider the source. Does Cronkite seem like a friendly, intellectual alien ambassador to you? Do you see him as trustworthy?” Young gave a dismissive wave.

Hallstrom put up both hands. “Okay guys, take a break here. Let’s not make it personal. This is an amazing opportunity, but perhaps Maddix has a point. Seth, if we can’t tell what a device does, can we at least decipher whether it is dangerous or not?”

“Sometimes. Also, if we were to cap the energy available to a device it could be limited in the damage it could do.”

Young was quick to pounce on that. “Unless it creates its own energy or pulls it out of the environment in a way we didn’t expect.”

Charli leaned forward. “You guys are forgetting: those plans were uploaded to WikiLeaks, and they’ve been downloaded by tens of thousands of people. The cat is out of the transporter. If we don’t build them, someone else will. Better that we do it first or at least figure out what they are, before some nerdy teenager starts making them in his or her basement.”

Young scoffed. “I can’t quite see a teenager using his erector set to build a space elevator.”

“True, but maybe Russia or China will start building these on their own. Do you want to turn on the news and see Kim Jong Un displaying his new planet-scale electron disruptor beam?” Charli stared at him.

Hallstrom stood up, signaling the end of the meeting. “Okay, let’s do this. Let’s charge ahead, but don’t hit the power switch without approval, okay, Seth? In the meantime, we’ll talk more about the dangers. I’ll continue to talk with the other world leaders on this.”

McGraw stood up. “Speaking of nerdy teenagers, there’s a set of teenage twins who have an amazing ability in both language and machine design. I’d like to get them on the team, if we can ever get out of Ruby.”

Hallstrom said, “The Carter twins?”

McGraw’s eyes widened. “Yes. You know about them?”

“I do, Jake told us about them, and we’ll have—”

“Wait. Jake’s on the team?” Guccio said.

“No, but he will be soon. Charli’s talked with him. We’ll be getting the Carter twins on board also. Okay, if there’s nothing else …” Hallstrom looked around the room, “meeting adjourned.”

* * *

June 8, 2018

In Mexico City, Jake started to give up hope. He secretly believed all was lost, that Sophia was dead, her body dumped where it would never be found. But he was trying. Trying to stay positive. He told the others, “They’re just prolonging our agony to soften us up. We’ve seen that before.”

Renata had sunk into a severe depression, and Jake spent hours trying to pull her out of it. He held her hand and talked of the years they’d worked together, and the surfing trips the four of them had taken to Baja, Mexico: Jake, Mary, Renata and her now-ex-husband, Pierre.

In the early years of the company, whenever they’d had a slow period, they’d fly over to the Baja Peninsula and rent a cabana on the beach. They surfed until their arms felt like noodles. This was before Sophia had been born, and each day ended with fish tacos, margaritas, and stories around a fire on the beach. The members of the group were perfect traveling companions; they were always on the same page and handled all the typical holiday snafus with good humor.

There was a sadness to the memories as well, since Mary was now dead, and Renata’s marriage to Pierre had ended in a bitter divorce. The only upside was that last year, Renata had sent Sophia to live with Jake for three months. Renata had wanted Sophia to have a father figure in her life. Jake agreed wholeheartedly and had devoted all his time to Sophia. Jake and Sophia developed a close bond.

What about Renata? Could he consider a romantic relationship after losing Mary? No. In any case, those thoughts would have to wait until they resolved the current crisis.

A shout interrupted Jake’s daydream. “Juan the mole is calling!” The company’s top negotiator, Senor Vela, picked up the phone, and the others rushed to the comm center and picked up the special “listen-only” extensions.

“Thank you for the money,” the caller said. “I have information.”

“We are grateful, Juan, and we will take care of you.” The negotiator had a soothing voice.

Juan spoke rapidly. “Benito, the boss, asked me for the location of a functioning pay phone in Mexico City. He wanted one on a semi-busy street in the southwest corner of the city. Since so many are broken, he asked me to find one that was definitely working. For a ransom call I think. Are you ready for the location?”

“Yes.”

“The corner of Parroquia and Jose Martin Mendalde.” Juan said.

“When do you think he’ll be calling?”

“Right now, Senor. He will be calling now. I have to—” The line went dead.

“Those places are too far from here.” Renata stared at the floor. “There’s no way you can get there in time.”

Jake barely heard her. He was already out the door with Archie Chen, the company’s top agent.

CHAPTER NINE

The call did indeed come in before Jake and Archie were in position. It ended one minute before they arrived at the pay phone. The negotiator relayed the conversation over the radio. “The kidnapper asked for ten million dollars. He said, ‘Your company has interfered with us too often. I have three guys here who would like to spend some time with your daughter.
Lo entiendes?
’”

Archie slammed his hand on the steering wheel.

“Wait.” Jake pointed out the window to a motorcycle leaving the block near the payphone. “Look there. Could that be our guy? That’s a pretty high-end motorcycle for this area.”

With nothing to lose, they followed the bike to a rundown house in the small town of Temamatla.

“That bike is way too good for a house like that,” Jake said. “It’s a long shot, but let’s check it out.”
We need a break!

Archie Chen deserved his nickname, “The Mexican Ninja.” His specialty was going in and out of occupied houses undetected. He had the chiseled muscles you’d expect from an expert climber and the intense look of someone who rarely laughs.

A few years ago, one of the company’s new administrators had voiced doubts about Chen’s exploits. Rumor had it the administrator woke up the next morning with a ninja action figure in his underwear, with a note reading “Me love you long time.” No one questioned Archie’s abilities after that.