The underground naval complex we lived and worked in (actually we were told it was an Air Force complex being run by the Navy) was much, much larger than I had first realized and that was a good thing because we were to be subjected to three months of training and orientation before our journey would begin. It was like an enormous underground city; complete with offices, conference rooms, recreation and exercise facilities, dormitories, commissaries, sick bays, clothing and personal supply stores (with very limited selections), libraries, movie theaters, and even a giant underground park (with trees and everything—it was incredible). There were machine shops and attorney offices (we were all encouraged to make sure our personal business was in order and of course someone had to pretend the gazillion forms we were required to sign were merely routine). There were even private and semi-private dining rooms that I somehow never received an invitation to. All in all the complex was rumored to accommodate close to 2,000 people. Our team wasn’t using but a fraction of that but I did notice that a number of darkened hallways and off limits sections were suddenly filling up with people—not that we could talk with any of them. We were required to wear color coded access cards around our neck, keep them visible at all times, and restrict ourselves to our (relatively) small section of the base.
Our Head of Mission was Brigadier General Dwight Nesbit, a big man who obviously kept himself in shape. General Nesbit was a likable enough guy that always seemed willing to listen—if you could ever get to him. He was constantly surrounded by his staff that was headed up by his second in command, Colonel Eugene Memphis. As far as I could tell Col Memphis’ sole duty was to keep the peasants in their place (me being one of the aforementioned peasants) and the riffraff away (or was I the riffraff?). Memphis took himself way too seriously and definitely had a mean streak—as we would all soon find out.
The first time we were all brought together in an auditorium to be addressed by General Nesbit I was struck by the sheer amount of brainpower in the room. I’m a reasonably bright guy and I’m used to hanging around some very smart people but the scientists, engineers and theorists in this room would get a standing ovation at MIT.
General Nesbit began his address by telling all of us to take a deep breath. He was here to explain the situation as best he could and give us as many answers as possible. He thanked us all for volunteering (I’d still like to know when I did that) and assured us that there was every reason to believe that we would fulfill our mission and return safely (Umm… nobody had said anything about danger). He turned very serious, however, when he started talking about what was at stake; literally the future of mankind. He made mention of the terrible record inferior societies had when meeting vastly superior civilizations and how important it would be for us to befriend and learn everything we could from our alien hosts. He then confirmed my worst fears by turning the briefing over to Dr. Derrick Helmer.
I am normally one of the most easy-going, positive people you will ever meet but Helmer and I had a history together. A big history. We were actually undergraduates together in the same fraternity at the same school. Although he was heavier into anthropology and I was slightly more focused on history we had many of the same classes, professors, and circle of friends. Other than that we were total opposites.
Derrick came from money and although he didn’t flaunt it his obvious disdain for anything less than top-shelf marked him.
I had been on scholarship. Son of a single, hard-working mother; I’d held a job since I was old enough to lie about my age. Between what I’d saved up working evenings and summers in high school as well as the income I earned working third shift at the local aircraft plant my first two years as an undergrad, I’d been able to finance myself long enough to start receiving grants for my postgraduate work.
With my background it was natural for some to assume that I’d be uncultured and uninformed about the ways of polite society and it never failed to frustrate Derrick when I out-cultured him at many a turn. My mother was my saving grace; a loving woman that firmly believed that having class was more about manners, respect, and how you talked and treated others more than it was the size of your wallet. She had taught me about fashion, comportment, and which fork to use (among other things)—not that I always listened (but that would be entirely another story).
To the outside world it must have appeared as if we were rivals but I don’t think Helmer ever deigned to acknowledge anyone else’s competence—especially mine. It was like he had picked me at random and then decided to make my life miserable. Everyone that counted in the department knew that he was second tier—and I’ve got to believe that deep down Helmer knew it too. I think that’s why he was so arrogant and conniving. He was actually a pretty smart guy but instead of applying himself he would work to undermine and sabotage others. You know the type; the guy that would always laugh at your mistakes to try and make himself look good; the guy that never missed a chance to tell others that he was trying to ‘help’ you if only you’d listen; the guy that always asked out your old girlfriends—within 24 hours of you breaking up. To say that we didn’t like each other would be a gross understatement. When it came to grades and athletics he could never quite best me; I even beat him out on the election for Fraternity President (he had to run again the next semester to win the office). No, Helmer was the antithesis to every ethical standard I believed in and here I was, listening to him lecture in my area of expertise!
One of my greatest abilities is that when faced with unexpected challenges I can disassociate myself from emotion and objectively analyze situations. I was doing just that when Julie nearly broke my finger off as she pried my hand away from the armrest of the auditorium seat. “Relax,” she said—misreading me completely. “General Nesbit will keep us safe and I’m sure that you and Dr. Helmer will figure something out. There’s always a way.”
“I have been fascinated by my study of your political history. It’s like looking backwards tens of thousands of years into our own past...”
We were sitting in my room watching the live interview with Jaki on our smartpads. Over the last week or so my room had become the de facto meeting place for our gang of three. Anzio and I just naturally got along well together and Julie, although still giving me a hard time, fit in well enough. Sometimes Dr. Mom (Toni) would join us but it was a small room and Toni got along with everyone so today it was just the three of us.
Dr. Helmer and Dr. Sullivan were conducting the interview with General Nesbit also in attendance. Jaki, as she asked us to call her, was one of the Noridians assigned to help us acclimate and prepare for what we’d find on their world and in their society.
General Nesbit had started the session by saying, “This is the first interview of what we hope to be many between our team and the representatives of Noridia. This first interview is live and is being blogcast on our secure network to the entire team. I’m going to turn this over to Dr. Helmer who will be speaking for us today.”