First Contact (Galactic Axia Adventure) (2 page)

“How are the power generators?”

“Online and within specs,” co-leader Dr. Spenser answered.

“Is the alignment of the receiver completed?”

“On the money,” Dr. Oren, their third member replied.

“What about the system recorders?”

“Operations finished the final diagnostics an hour ago,” Spenser answered.

“What frequency do you want to run first?” Oren asked.

“1,420 megacycles,” Garret answered. “The research team hypothesized that it would give us the best likely return signal because of the abundance of hydrogen.”

“But we already know hydrogen exists on that planet,” Spenser objected. “Why confirm something we already know?”

“If anything, to verify that our signal sweep is correct,” Garret said. “Then we can go on to other more exotic analysis.” As second member of their leadership team, Spenser seemed satisfied with the reasoning.

“My checklist is clear,” Oren announced. Although junior to the other two members, they all agreed that Oren would act as an unofficial skeptic to help counterbalance his superiors. “How about you two?” Both answered in the affirmative.

“Well gentlemen,” Garret said, “it’s time we reveal our project to the press.” The three broke up and went to their various stations to gather their notes.

∞∞∞∞

Outside the control complex, their project patiently waited like only an inanimate object can. To the casual observer, the antenna array would look like the cross between the seating area of a large stadium and the giant metallic web of a spider. Stretching across a small hollow in the hills, the antenna was over eight hundred feet from rim to rim and one hundred and twenty seven feet deep at its center.

Construction of the giant radio antenna had been a long and frustrating effort over the last three years. Fraught with frequent transportation and supply problems, the contractors had managed to come in ahead of schedule and under budget, something unusual in joint projects between private and government groups. But that wasn’t the only problem they had to overcome.

Months of research had been devoted to finding the best geographical location for the facility on the surface of Maranar. Unfortunately, that location happened to be in one of the tropical zones with its attendant weather phenomena. The design had to be adjusted to handle the resultant weather extremes, including monsoon-like thunderstorms on a regular basis. To his credit, the main construction foreman took this challenge in stride in spite of naysayers in government offices.

The surface of the small valley had been carefully contoured to a predetermined shape and then covered with reinforced concrete to prevent shifting. Each concentric ring of the antenna was then covered with highly reflective material to augment any incoming signals. Netting was stretched over this to help prevent debris from landing on the array and distorting the reflective surface of the dish. Suspended above this were the signal collectors, each positioned so they could be used individually or in combination to aim the antenna effectively toward anything of interest in the sky. The end result was a stable parabolic reflector capable of capturing and refining any signal, passive or otherwise, passing through their solar system.

The countdown clock in the control room reached zero and power was applied. The grid hummed fully to life. As soon as it reached stability, the array technicians tuned it to a frequency of 1,420 megacycles. The harmonics startled nearby birds into flight. Fortunately, none blundered into the netting covering the antenna bowl and thus threatening today’s test run. Among those assigned to watch for such problems, Kyle and Seth breathed sighs of relief.

Outside the perimeter of the site, a small group of supporters started chanting as soon as they heard the equipment. Many of their placards extolled the effort and urged the equipment be used in attempting to contact intelligent life beyond the stars. Security personnel were amused by the antics of the group, several of whom were dressed in fanciful costumes of fictitious extra-planetary beings.

Off to one side, two people were also walking back and forth protesting against the new facility. One carried a sign protesting the use of government funding that could better serve his own special interest. The other protester’s sign was catchier, saying in bold print
SPACE ALIENS ARE AFTER OUR WOMEN.
A few camera operators from Maranar’s news services were shooting file photos and video footage of the event. Since their protest was part of the record, the two activists increased their antics for the benefit of the cameras.

∞∞∞∞

The pressroom had been set up in what was usually the cafeteria. The plans to have the press meet in the small spectator room overlooking the main operations area were scrapped at the last minute. Only an hour ago, the tables were cleared out of the cafeteria to convert it into a temporary pressroom to handle the larger crowd.

Reporters munched on assorted pastries and sipped coffee while they waited for the briefing to begin. Headline-grabbing news had been somewhat scarce lately so there were more news services present for an event that would usually only be a back page story. Among the usual staff-science reporters were many big name media reporters; people who generally only covered the sensational stories. Their lack of experience with the sciences would be augmented later by using file reports from various science editors.

The general hubbub quieted when several scientists in their traditional white lab coats left the operations area and approached the platform and podium temporarily set up against one wall. The senior scientist, Garret, an older man with silver streaking his temples, stepped to the podium while his colleagues gathered behind him. The turnout of press and media was far more than they had expected. Glancing at the gathering, Garret was pleased to see that their last minute estimate of room for the press had been accurate.

Garret shuffled his notes on the microphone-decked podium while he waited for the media people to get themselves arranged. The room quieted and the whirl of numerous cameras told him that his audience was finally ready. Looking up into the camera lenses and outstretched microphones, Garret opened with the newly prepared statement he had written only that morning.

“As of 8:43 this morning local time, the Maranar General Service Radio Observatory became operational,” Garret announced evenly. Polite applause pattered around the room. “After initial tests with signals from an orbiting satellite, the Radio Observatory will begin the electronic mapping of planets within our own star system. With the information gained, we will be better able to plan manned and unmanned space missions for the future.”

Garret paused when he noticed several hands rise. With a nod toward an older reporter he had seen before at earlier progress briefings, Garret opened the floor for questions.

“What were the final reports concerning the project’s budget?” the reporter asked. “I did note that it was finished ahead of schedule.” The last comment brought some appreciative reactions from newcomers to the briefing.

“It is true that the project finished ahead of schedule,” Garret replied. “In fact, it was completed over six weeks early. As for the budget, I am happy to report that we were also eight percent under budget. The surplus will be returned to the various contributors, both public and private, that helped make this dream a reality.”

There was total silence while everyone absorbed this unexpected good news. Then someone in the back started clapping and soon the room was filled with applause. When it died back down, the scientist continued taking questions.

Another familiar reporter raised his hand. “At what frequency will you be operating?”

“To start out, we’ll be conducting our tests using the frequency of 1,420 megacycles,” Garret began. “This corresponds to the frequency that is emitted when an electron reverses its spin in an atom of hydrogen. After that, the antenna will be employing a multi-channel spectrum analyzer that can simultaneously scan 131,072 channels or frequency ranges. Later, the system will be upgraded to 8.4 million channels as funds permit.”

One of the new faces, a media reporter, hesitantly raised her hand. “What about using the antenna to search for and communicate with extra-planetary intelligence?” The room hushed while everyone listened to hear the response of the senior scientist. Garret found himself amused by the question. Considering the number of reporters here who did not normally cover the fields of science, the question was certain to come up.

“While the radio antenna array is quite capable of receiving any signal,” Garret answered patiently, “its designed purpose is to explore the nearby planets and stars via electromagnetic mapping. There are no plans to use the array to search for that which is based in fiction and rumor.”

“But what about reports of Unidentified Flying Vehicles?” she persisted. Garret smiled.

“In all the years such reports have been investigated by the Department of Air Vehicles, not one has been substantiated. Without exception, all such sightings have been attributed to hallucinations, over-active imagination, or gases released by decaying vegetation in local swamps.”

Affirmative murmuring greeted the scientist’s response. The reporter started to raise her hand again but thought better of it and stopped. Another regular science reporter took this opening to raise his hand. “How will this mapping aide the upcoming manned missions?”

Garret smiled again. “After initial testing, the array will be used to thoroughly map Maranar’s three moons. As soon as we determine the gravitational fields and electrometric spectrum of each moon, we will be better able to plot the course necessary to complete a thorough fly-by of each on future moon missions. Since the launch and flight parameters for the upcoming launch are already known and adjusted for, what we learn with the radio telescope will not affect their plans.”

“Then it’s true that the proposed launch next month is on?” another reporter asked excitedly. Garret realized he had inadvertently slipped.

“It’s true that a manned mission is proposed for next month,” he said, trying desperately to recover. “But any statement confirming the mission is pure conjecture at this time.”

The room buzzed while the reporters considered the implications of his reply. While Garret listened to the comments flying back and forth among the covey of reporters, he found himself now hoping the press conference would end soon.

∞∞∞

The stack of reports requiring attention leaned toward the Lady-of-the-Fleet like a vengeful taskmaster. She reached over and carefully tried to stabilize the threatening pile. For two days now, she had been personally reviewing all of the reports from the watcher and picket ships in her sector of space. So far, of the hundred or more reports she had read, only three touched on information that had caused her over a week of sleepless nights.

With the stack safely stabilized, Trooper-Third Diane Zubbe refocused her attention on the open report in front of her. Three pages into it she found another reference pertaining to her search. Marking the section, she stacked the report with the other three she had found so far. Her eyes bleary from hours of reading, she took another report off the tall stack and opened it.

A knock at her office door caused her to look up. The smiling face of a fellow trooper-third stared back at her. “Trying to go blind reading all of these reports in one day?” Tim Errel asked, stepping into the small office.

Diane leaned back in her chair and returned the smile. “No. I’m just trying to get a grasp on something that’s been bugging me.”

Tim thumbed through the small stack of reports. “So this is what’s been stealing my lady’s attention.” Tim swung Diane’s chair around to face her directly. She looked into his deep brown eyes and kissed him on the nose. He kissed her forehead in return and drew back to admire her.

“Now, you know I have to finish this or I won’t be able to think of anything else,” she said, continuing to smile.

“I know. That is why I’ve come to help.”

“But it’s not even your shift,” she said, looking at the clock. “This is supposed to be your time to relax.”

“So I decided to relax by helping you,” he said. He pulled an extra chair over to her desk. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with, so what is it you’re so desperately looking for?”

“I have a nagging sense that there’s some sort of pattern to these random Red-tail sightings we’ve had lately,” Diane answered. She showed him the sections she had marked in the four reports. He took each report in turn and read the parts she had highlighted.

“I don’t see any pattern here,” he said when he finished the last one. “Exactly what do you suspect?”

“Although each incident is different, there’s one common denominator,” Diane answered, taking the reports back. She flipped open each report and pointed to brief passages in each section. “In each case, the Red-tail ship was in high speed flight and only crossed the farthest edge of the sensors of the Axia ship that encountered it.”

“So you found your pattern,” he said, looking at the material.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I believe there’s a second pattern, but I just can’t put my finger on it.”

“Maybe between us, we can find enough evidence to figure out what that mysterious pattern is,” he said, reaching for part of the pile. “Hand me a stack.”

With a final smile at her fiancé, Troopers-Third Diane Zubbe and Tim Errel again began to read the reports together.

Chapter Two

“Long range sensors clear,” Qualat reported from his station.

“Any more word on those reported Red-tails?” Captain Leatha Mordon asked the trooper at the comm.

“Just that initial warning,” he answered. “Nothing else on any of the non-standard frequencies either.”

“Pilot, take us around that asteroid field and approach our target planet,” the captain ordered. “Use the mass of the planet to mask our detectably.”

“Yes ma’am,” Trooper Delmar Eagleman replied from the pilot seat. He carefully adjusted the controls to comply. Suddenly a shudder ran through the ship.