Overture (Earth Song) (17 page)

Mindy
jumped up and screamed in triumph, then shook her head as she realized what this meant. Had this Portal been sent after an attempt to communicate by radio had failed? That was seven years ago, round trip light speed placed the signal origin at three point five light years. It didn’t add up. The probable origin of the radio signal was closer to two hundred, maybe two hundred fifty light years distant. Still, this was a serious development. It just couldn't be a coincidence, it couldn't!

“
Shit, I need to talk to Harold!” she yelled and ran out of her office.

When Lt. Billy Harper arrived for his twice-weekly briefing at the station house, he had a couple of unwelcome surprises. The first was a note on his shared desk to report to the investigation department's briefing room as soon as he got in. After a hasty cup of coffee he made his way to the designated room where he found the second unwelcome surprise. There waiting for him were his ex-wife Trisha, her new husband (none other than Assistant Chief of Police Niedelmeir), and someone he had never met before. This middle-aged and slightly overweight man exuded an air of power and confidence. Billy instantly knew he was a government agent.

“
Sit down, Lieutenant,” Niedelmeir said and pointed to a chair. Harper sat without comment. A speculative eyebrow raised at Trisha resulted in her looking down at her computer so he knew something serious was under way. “We have a few questions for you.”

“
If this is an official investigation, I'd like to speak to my councilor.”

“
It's not an investigation, Billy,” Trisha said quietly.

“
Not yet anyway,” Niedelmeir added.

“
Can we proceed?” asked the stranger with a glance at his watch. Niedelmeir grumbled and pushed some buttons on his computer before beginning.

“
On March sixteenth of this year, you reportedly accepted a duty assignment for an investigation in Central Park by Capt. Panini here...” Billy looked at her quickly, suddenly afraid that this non-investigation was against her, but Niedelmeir continued. “During that investigation you interrogated and later booked on misdemeanor possession charges, one suspect identified as Victor Huxford.” Harper was relieved that Trisha was not under investigation, but now afraid that he knew where they were going. “Can you tell me what became of the defendant?”

“
No, I cannot,” he replied casually. “Since when is a small time perp worth this kind of Q&A anyway? I've got work to do.”

“
Just answer the questions, lieutenant.”

“
Why don't you answer my fuckin’ question, Niedelmeir?!” The assistant chief came halfway out of his seat in a patented display of the temper that had kept him from the top job for so long. Trisha put out a restraining hand that was rudely batted aside. Harper's eyes narrowed slightly.

“
I don't think there is any call to let this friendly little get together become nasty, do you, assistant chief?” All heads turned to the stranger at their meeting. “Wondering who I am? Senior Sector Chief Mark Volant, NSA. Mr. Huxford is a person of interest in an investigation.”

“
He was what, a junkie? Why would a junkie arrested on a misdemeanor possession charge be of such interest to the NSA? You afraid he tried to steal your ‘satellite’ out there?”

“
That’s really none of your concern, Lt. Harper. We merely need that man, and you let him go.”

“
I didn’t let him go; the arraigning judge did that when Mr. Huxford didn’t show for the pretrial. We arrest about ten thousand people a day in this city, Agent Volant. If we put all of them in jail, the entire Upper East Side would be nothing but jail cells.”

“
Might improve the city.”

“
I think we’re getting off course,” offered Capt. Panini. “Lt. Harper followed procedures in booking the suspect and obtaining an arraignment date. Three days later the arraigning judge released Mr. Huxford on O.R. with a pretrial date set for April 15th. When he didn’t show up, just like most of those released on O.R., a plea of guilty was entered on his behalf and he was sentenced to time served; case dismissed.”

“
I’ve read it,” Niedelmeir said with a dismissive wave. “The fact exists that the lieutenant had the authority to choose the arraigning judge, all but insuring that this Huxford would be released on his O.R.”

“
Quite an accusation you’re making,” Harper said.

“
If the shoe fits…”

“
I’m not the one who’s been rooting around in the chief’s colon for the last ten years.”

“
You insubordinate little bastard!”

“
Do I need to separate you two?” Trisha demanded, “Or do you just want to whip it out and have a pecker contest right now?”

“
I’m beginning to realize you three have a history together,” Volant said with a scornful look.

“
Very astute,” Harper said.

Volant
shrugged. “Yeah…I used to be married.”

“
Capt. Panini left this loser when he refused one too many chances to be promoted in the department. We were married last year, just after I accepted the assistant chief position.”

“
How wonderful for all of you. What I really came here for was Victor Huxford. You can keep the soap opera shit. So, Lt. Harper, do you, or do you not have any idea where this Huxford character can be located?”

“
How would I know? I haven’t seen him since I booked him; the prosecutor’s office notified me he never showed for his pretrial.”

“
Thank you Lieutenant, you may go.”

“
Just like that? I think he’s hiding something!” Niedelmeir snarled and pointed as Harper got to his feet.

“
Only my loathing for you, Assistant Chief Niedelmeir,” Harper said, smiling broadly. Niedelmeir turned bright red and choked on his reply. As Harper left, he caught the slight smile on his ex-wife’s face and that made him whistle a broken tune. It was part of Three Blind Mice.

“
Think he’s telling the truth?” asked Volant.

“
I think he’s lying,” spat Niedelmeir. “Get an Internal Affairs investigator to follow him.”

“
We can’t do that without some evidence of wrongdoing,” Panini complained.

“
I’ll give you all you need to order that tail, the authority of the United States Government.” Niedelmeir nodded his head and Capt. Panini just looked away. Volant stormed out. He was used to having his orders followed.

“
Arrogant asshole,” Niedelmeir said to Volant’s back.

“
You have a great way of dealing with them,” she said, “like fighting fire with a gas pump.” His look shot daggers at her as they left.

Once
outside, Harper got into his cruiser and headed in the direction of his patrol sector. A few blocks away he pulled off the street, double-parked in front of a trendy coffee bar, and ran inside.

This
was not his regular java-stop but it had other benefits. After he ordered his coffee he stepped to an empty table. From his organizer he pulled a simply printed card and copied off the card into the tiny netbook computer that rested there. The web page for The Followers of the Avatar loaded quickly. He found the button labeled Contact Us.

Later,
driving through the bustling streets he tried not to notice the unmarked car following him. As he went about his duties that day another car took over but he was watched the whole day.

When
he parked his cruiser outside his house that evening and climbed the stairs, Mr. Nebowitz was again carrying out a bag of garbage for his wife. "How's life treating you Billy?"

"I've
been better, Mr. Nebowitz."

"That's
life!" the elderly Jewish man said with a shrug. Inside Harper tossed his keys on a table by the door and while removing his shoulder holster he stole a glance out the window. One of his shadows was parked across the street. He plopped into the faded recliner and decided to give his shadow a long and boring night.

Kadru retreated from the auditorium of the aged porn palace that served as the church and living quarters for the Followers. Twelve hours ministering to their rapidly growing flock left her shaking with fatigue.

“
They're like an army,” Gabriel pointed out at one point as she was helping him carry sacks of donated food. “Between the apocalyptic warnings from some of the press and the power of his preaching, they would do anything for him!”

That's
just what I'm hoping, Kadru thought. Now in private, she turned her attention to maintenance on their modest web page. It was mostly just a collection of pictures and some information about The Followers. The page possessed only a few functions, one of them being the contact e-mail box. There were more and more messages each day, and today was no exception.

“
You people are a crazy cult that should be outlawed,” wrote Anonymous from the Bronx. “E.T. is out there man, keep looking!” added Jeffery Finnegan from Seattle. “Do I have to cut off my balls to join?” asked someone from the Upper East Side. She deleted that one quickly, not too sure whether this person was kidding. “To Whom It May Concern, I’ve seen the Portal in pictures as well and want to exchange notes.” Kadru sat up and became instantly alert.

The
e-mail went on to describe that the sender knew of the Portal and that it was a transport to another world. She said she was an astronomer and had been trying to figure out where the Portal leads. Kadru smiled because she knew the destination was Heaven. The writer continued.

"Associates
of mine have been studying a signal of extra-terrestrial origin for nearly seven years. Recently they made a breakthrough in reading the basic structure of that message. Everything is in sequences of twelve within twelve. I realize this might mean nothing to you, but the drawings you have are painstakingly detailed and in them they show what I believe is the same pattern as our signal! Twelve data bits within twelve blocks per group. Whoever recorded that information on the Portal likely also sent the message from space seven years ago!”

Kadru
sat back and scratched her head, fatigue and her ever-present headache making it harder to concentrate. All her life’s teaching, her religious education, what her mother had believed, told her that she had seen an Avatar of Shiva that night in the park. The talk of this being a Portal to another world shook her more than her hurting head would tolerate.

Still,
a nagging truth was at the edge of her consciousness. How could Shiva have allowed this gift to end up in the hands of non-believers? They were worse than non-believers; they were spies unless she missed her guess.  Who knew where their loyalties really were. It didn’t add up.

Enclosed
with the message was a digital image. A montage, taken from dozens of other images, showed the Portal. The anonymous sender signed the message Sky Watcher, using a free public account on an Internet search engine. This Sky Watcher was not only knowledgeable about the Portal, but also careful lest the wrong person track the message back to its source.

Kadru
used another browser to bring up an equally anonymous e-mail account. She wrote a quick reply then read it. Not liking how it sounded, she deleted it and wrote a new one.  The second attempt was more to her liking so she sent it off. She didn't know what Victor would think of this and decided not to mention it. She went back to the e-mail and whatever else she might find there. She found it quickly.

The
message was from an account named NYPDblue on a free and anonymous board. The subject line said; “For the Prophet Victor!” but she read it anyway, as was her procedure. It turned out to be from Lt. Billy Harper, who had been to the mission only this morning. She got most of the way through and had to stop. Victor would want to see this immediately.

In
the hall, Kadru ran into Gabriel, now carrying a carton of soup down to the kitchen. He caught the look on her face and wondered what was wrong. “I’ve got to find Victor,” she said as she hurried by. “They know about him and that police officer, Harper. He thinks they might have been following him all along and that means they know where Victor is!”

Kadru
ran around the corner and out of sight leaving Gabriel alone. He watched after her for a moment then looked away. “They’re like an army,” he had told her. “They would do anything for him.” He had been referring to Victor, of course. And he had been right. They probably would do absolutely anything. The powers of faith were limitless. He nodded and headed down to the auditorium. Victor was sleeping in his basement quarters so he had the flock all to himself. Victor wasn’t the only one who could motivate people. It was time he gave preaching a try.

It was hard to get used to a forest at night without insects and night birds. It was even harder getting used to a slow moving black moon, and a swiftly moving green one. Lt. Colonel Dan Wilson sat at his improvised desk of cut faux bamboo on an ultra-light camp chair and typed a report. Through the open door to his tent he could see the other two tents of his tiny detachment and beyond that the alien forest. Just then, the strange ethereal light cast by Romulus, the black moon, was high in the sky. The little green Remus was due in another hour. As operational commander, he'd claimed the honor of naming the moons. No others had yet appeared.

It
was three hours after local nightfall. The planet was remarkably similar to Earth. Days were twenty-seven hours long divided into eighteen hours of light and nine hours night during a season he would call summer. The days hovered around eighty degrees, the nights sixty. The atmosphere was a little thicker, but the gas chemistry was basically identical as were the flora and fauna's amino acid chains. He didn't understand what all this meant but the best part was none of them had gotten sick. The water was safe, and they had nicknamed their camp Ft. Eden. Hell, even those Komodo sloth lizards didn't taste half bad; they just had kind of a strange aftertaste you got used to after a few days.

Lt.
Col. Wilson took a break from his report and moved to the door of his tent. His sidearm hung from his hip and his automatic rifle rested nearby. It had become quickly apparent that the Komodo sloths had no fear of humans whatsoever, and also found humans just as tasty as humans found the Komodo sloths. Three attacks marked their first night in the new world. One of his men still had difficulty using his left arm after a lizard had given him numerous deep gashes. Luckily, these Komodo didn’t have the same deadly bacterial cocktail in their mouths that the ones on Earth did. The man suffered no infections from the wounds and was recovering well enough.

That
next morning he had led his men on a half mile perimeter stalk, killed a dozen of the beasts and destroyed one nest with a huge pile of eggs. The attacks had ceased, but they could still hear them roaring in the distance. Without permanent defenses, the men would be continuously at risk. Their fabric tents were absolutely no defense against the powerful predators. He had to admit he felt sorry for Hooper, the lost scientist. Going up against a Komodo sloth with a Swiss army knife was not his idea of fun.

At
the door to his tent he listened to the strange sounds of this world. It must have evolved quite differently from Earth. There seemed to be little bio diversity. Everything had scales and nothing had fur or feathers. They hadn’t managed to catch a single insect, bird or mammal. Reptiles occupied every niche that, on Earth, would have been filled with all kinds of diverse species.

There
were lizards ranging in size from smaller than a mouse to larger than a horse. What worried him was the thought of something even bigger than the Komodo sloth. Did dinosaurs still roam this world as they had once roamed Earth? More importantly would a Tyrannosaurus Rex come walking into their camp some day? He’d rather not think about it. But what ate the Komodo sloths?

The
forest was quiet even though it teemed with life all around them. At the peak of his tent, a lizard recently named a howler was eyeing him. This eight inch long lizard reminded him that this was an alien world. It watched him with one pair of eyes while another pair regarded a smaller reptile dubbed a Scrubber. The howler was a predator, eating smaller reptiles or scavenging whatever it could find while the Scrubber was an herbivore. The Scrubber feasted on the golden moss that grew with amazing speed on any food left uncovered. Between the golden moss and the scrubbers a twelve-course meal would disappear in less than twenty-four hours.

The
Scrubber realized it was being sized up for lunch and beat a hasty retreat. The howler was undaunted and stood its ground, willing to wait for another meal to come along. Howlers were harmless unless you tried to move or touch one. They had earned their name by doing a fair impersonation of an outraged drunken Irishman howling as their football team lost. Lt. Col. Wilson had been so flustered the first time he’d reached out to move a bothersome howler and it cut loose that he’d wasted a round on the tiny predator.  To make matters worse, whenever a howler screamed every other one in ear shot seemed honor-bound to join in. That could result in a cacophonous noise to rival any heavy metal rock band ever formed. Nevertheless, there was an unsteady truce between the soldiers and the howlers. The lizards only stole an occasional bit of food, and the humans left them to their jobs.

Outside
there was silence except for the occasional rustle of leaves, scrambling sound or the barking call of a forest denizen. At first, it was easy to get spooked in the forest. On Earth it only got quiet like that when something was wrong. Here it was normal. Lt. Col. Wilson was no botanist and not much of a scientist, but he was still amazed by this world. Earth was the norm in his mind, and seeing how different a world could be while still sharing similarities was an incredible experience.

Most
of the plant life was familiar, if simpler. The forest was mainly composed of trees similar to pines, but with wide fern-lined boughs. Intermittently, you would find wide glades of gold-tinted grass and huge spreading ferns. A dazzling variety of flowers were everywhere, even sprouting in the bark of trees. He remembered reading how the time of the dinosaurs looked a lot like this. “I think this world is much younger than ours,” he'd written in his report. Later he added “You need to get some scientists over here, we don’t know what we’re doing.”

“
Why doesn’t anything fly here?” he wondered aloud from the door to his tent. No insects, no birds, and no flying reptiles. “There were flying dinosaurs, I remember that.” They had encountered one local reptile that could jump dozens of yards, and another one that had membranes it used to glide like a flying squirrel, but that was as airborne as they got here. “A pair of stray parakeets could take over the planet!” His watch beeped, warning him that the next crossing was only an hour away, so he went back inside and wrapped up his report. “Be certain no pigeons come over,” he added at last, “they could overrun this place in no time.”

An
hour later the entire contingent of Ft. Eden was standing in front of the circular Portal, nearly identical to the one they had stepped through back on Earth. The only differences they could see what that this one lacked the one hundred forty-four lights, and it didn't come alive when you stepped on the top step.

Right
on time the Portal flashed bright purple and the fifth member of his team stepped though. There were cheers and a quick reunion that had to be cut short because crates began flying through the Portal and they needed to go to work. He picked up the communicator’s handset from the laser transceiver and said hello.

“
How are things?” asked Dr. Osgood from probably billions of miles away.

“
We’re doing well. I’m transmitting the sum of our research in a detailed report. Do we have a coherent plan yet?”

“
That’s a negative. We’re to continue crossing over your men one at a time every two days until we formulate that plan.”

“
Any progress on figuring how to get us back?” the Lt. Col. asked hurriedly.

“
We’re making some small progress.” The soldier knew it was a lie but he decided not to let on that he knew.

“
Send us a scientist soon, we’re running out of things to do, except shoot lizards.”

“
I’ll see what we can-” But he never finished his sentence, the Portal had closed. The new man was standing nearby looking around and taking the measure of his surroundings. “Welcome to Ft. Eden, soldier, let’s show you around.” He didn’t like how that conversation ended, but what was he to do. It was hard to lodge a complaint when your commander was billions of miles away. Besides, he'd volunteered. Maybe on this new world, soldiers would finally learn not to do that. Right.

Harold was going over the data for the third time. Mindy had worked with him long enough to know he was having difficulty controlling himself as he compared column of numbers on printouts with those recorded in Mindy’s pictures, and then with the ones from the Followers web page.  For the first time in an hour he spoke. “There are some inconsistencies between the hand drawings and the pictures,” he said.

“
Considering they were done from memory by an eye witness, that shouldn’t be a surprise,” she said with an exasperated sigh.

“
They’re very detailed though. This is a complete validation of what we’ve been doing!” He gave up any attempt to control himself and was sporting an ear-to-ear grin. “The repetition of patterns, structure, and base pairs were all identical. There is no way it could be a coincidence. Whoever sent this Portal used the same code in this writing. And we still don't know what they were trying to say in the damn message.”

“
How about: we know you’re in trouble and are sending help?”

“
How about: better answer this call or we’ll kill you?” Mindy looked at the image of LM-245 on a display. SETI had volunteered some of its newly improved computer power to the amateur astronomy community to assist in the independent threat analysis of LM-245. The huge rock was getting closer by the day.

“
Why would they try to kill us, then provide an escape?”

“
I don’t know, but there is obviously some sort of link.” Harold’s eyes sparkled every time he looked at her composites of the Portal and the other partial image showing a man stepping through to another world. “Hard to believe SETI is now a moot point,” he said and pointed to the Portal. “The Extra Terrestrial Intelligence has found
us
!”

“
Yeah, but who are they, and what do they want.”

Harold
nodded his head and brought up another image. It was the drawing of the Angel of God that Victor had seen, now labeled as the 'Avatar of God'. “It’s an amazing creature,” he said, “just imagine what they could teach us! What kind of world did they evolve on? What rules of the universe do they know that we have yet to even imagine? What brought them here?”

Mindy
’s computer beeped for attention and she turned her chair around. She read the message then smiled. “’Nothing in the universe happens by accident’, my father said. I don’t know the answers to the questions you’re asking, but I’ve got a piece of a question.” He looked over her shoulder and could see she was running a strange image analysis program full of fragments of star fields. “I found a partial match on a constellation on the other side of the Portal!”

She
picked up the phone and called Skinner in Florida. He wasn’t there so she left a message saying she would call him tomorrow morning at 10 A.M. from the federal building, just like before. “That’s who I got these images from,” she explained to Harold.

His
mouth made an O as he nodded his head. “This thing goes high up, doesn’t it?”

“
I get the impression from the security measure Leo is taking; it goes all the way to the top. Notice how NASA is refusing to even acknowledge that LM-245 is going to come close?”

“
I’ve been wondering about the stonewalling.” Harold picked up his tea and took a sip before continuing. “In two weeks even a kid with binoculars will be able to see it. A little patience, a calculator, and a year of college astronomy will be all you need to see where this is all going.”

“
Yeah, add the killer asteroid to these Portals and what do you have?”

“
A way to save humanity?”

“
Or a way to cause anarchy?”

“
If people know there is a way to be saved, they’ll work together.” Harold, always the optimist when it came to human nature.

“
Maybe, but what if everyone doesn’t get saved? What if the Portals aren’t what they seem?”

“
Then it would probably be a disaster,” Harold agreed. “If that rock’s going to hit, and there’s no way off the planet, it will be bad. If only a million or so could get off, I don’t know, I guess it would be worse.”

“
I don’t think I follow you.”

“
Well, when faced with inevitable death, many people find the place they need to be that allows them to face the ‘great beyond’ with a certain amount of aplomb. Most find some dignity, at the very least, to die quietly. My psychology professor said it had something to do with our own innate sense of mortality. Most of us realize deep down that we are doomed eventually, when certain death looms we can adjust.”

“
Sorry I missed that class!”

“
Yeah, Professor Hitchcock, no relation. He was incredible at macro sociology and at procuring Maui weed. Remember that stuff from our junior year at UCLA? Anyway, he also said that all that dignity could go down the toilet if you give someone a way out, no matter how remote. It seems even a small amount of hope is all a human needs to go from dignity and aplomb to a savage beast whose sole goal is survival at any cost.”