“If anyone sees us coming in, they’ll think we’re a meteor coming down in the wilderness. No one will wander into the worst of the magnetic anomalies at night. Most humans won’t willingly venture into a strong magnetic vortex at any time. Something about intense magnetic fields induces dizziness, nausea and skewed perception. I may be affected, even aboard this ship. Once the ship is on the ground, chances we’ll be seen are low.”
“Vortices?” Grisham echoed, disdain in his tone.
“You’ve seen some of the New-Age claims regarding them, I take it,” I said. “Whether magnetic phenomena are at the root of the New-Age vortex mythos, I cannot say, but I can say that magnetic phenomena were of significant interest to the US military at one time.”
The captain studied me, calculation in the narrowing of his eyes. “How do you know?”
“My father was a physicist with the Air Force. He specialized in magnetic fields. He used non-
classified data to spark my interest in science.”
“The military wanted magnetic weapons?”
“Shielding,” I countered. “Magnetic fields can make something close look far away, distort an object’s true size, thus throwing off targeting. I’m suggesting using naturally occurring magnetic fields to our advantage.”
Grisham looked skeptical, but he nodded.
“When you take off all hell will break loose,” I went on. “The military will see the ship, and they will scramble jets again. You’ll want out of atmosphere as quickly as possible, and you may need to take up position behind something of size to avoid having all of Earth’s telescopes pointed at you. Assuming you choose to remain in this solar system.”
“If this works,” Carrollus said, “this solar system will be the safest place for us.”
“Not for much longer,” I replied. “With the current speed of scientific advancement on Earth, you won’t be able to hide indefinitely. When our measurements become accurate enough to detect your mass influencing the orbit of nearby bodies, you’ll have real problems.”
“We have to survive the Orseggans, first,” Carrollus said.
“Agreed,” Grisham weighed in. “Analysis.”
“Without shields or weapons,” Carrollus said, “our options are run or hide. If we leave the solar system, the Orseggans have a shot at picking up an exhaust trail. We’d abandon hundreds of our people planetside, not to mention destroying years of intelligence work spent infiltrating native governments.”
Interesting. They’d put agents on Earth? Surely I could use that as a bargaining chip. Somehow.
“Chances we could bring weapons online before the Orseggans reach sensor range?” Grisham demanded.
Carrollus shook his head. “The real question is whether we can destroy the scouts before they detect us. This crew hasn’t faced battle. The lack of experience both with weapon systems and combat tactics gives us very low chances of ambushing and destroying them before the Orseggans fire off a distress call.”
Grisham grunted. “Thereby confirming our existence and our location.”
“Hiding is our best option.”
“What if the Orseggans decide to investigate the aurora, see if they can punch through?” I prompted, wanting all the contingencies on the table.
Lieutenant Vran answered. “If we go dark, as you’re suggesting, and if the hull has cooled in the wind and snow, we will look like part of the landscape at best. At worst, we’ll resemble one of the military installations dotting the region, assuming the Orseggans would risk detection and destruction by pressing into the atmosphere for a closer look.”
“Destruction?” I echoed.
“An F-15’s payload would penetrate the scouts’ hulls,” Carrollus explained. “Scouts are built for speed, not combat.”
“If they come poke you with a stick, they’ll have the US Air Force swarming them in short order,” I mused. Uneasiness gnawed at the inside of my breastbone. Making my species aware of aliens in the solar system could be a disaster. Chaos and panic would result. We’d made and distributed too many science-
fiction movies in the past several decades to hope humankind would welcome men and women from Mars with open arms.
“Sir?” Carrollus turned on the captain.
Grisham sighed. “If we fail, it will mean the end of our kind. And the deaths of people we’ve taken into our protection.”
Reaction rippled around the command center. Even I felt it.
I began to understand. They’d already lost. Big time. “Genocide”, Grisham had said. Did that mean they were the last surviving members of their kind?
I imagined I could see the cost of everything they’d given up in order to survive defined by the lines of sorrow carved into their faces. Sadness surged within me as if in answer. I’d buried my folks. These people had likely lost wives, husbands and children. If I looked around the room, how many other faces would mirror my wounds?
“Commander,” Grisham said as he tore his gaze from mine. “Take us in.”
“Yes, sir!”
Carrollus issued orders in the language I didn’t recognize. The lieutenant at the table bent over the console, packing and sending all pertinent data to the rest of the command crew.
Grisham mounted the steps to his post, where he sat and keyed in commands on his panel. “Ms Selkirk, join me. We don’t have the time to secure you in quarters before we hit atmosphere.”
He nodded at a seat beside his. I strode up the steps and sat down.
He pressed a colorless button on the arm of my chair. Webbing that seemed to have a life of its own snaked up over my lap and around my torso. Trepidation shot through me, but when the animate seat belt stopped moving, I wasn’t pinned as I’d feared. I could still move and I could still breathe. I noted he wore one just like it. That was vaguely comforting.
From the vibration rattling up my spine, I gathered the engines were already firing, already breaking orbit.
From the center of the floor, Carrollus called, “Permission to institute tactical alert?”
“Granted.”
The bright lights illuminating the command center died.
I gasped and dug my fingers into the arms of my chair. The floor had vanished. I was sitting in space.
From what I could deduce, the entire command center projected from the main body of the ship. The hull, so opaque in bright light, disappeared entirely in the dark. It looked as if every single station hovered in the vacuum.
My heart thundered in my chest. I’d never imagined a front-row, first-person view of my return to Earth. We’d barely begun moving and I was giddy with anticipation.
I’d been right. The ship edged away from a particularly large asteroid, crossed Mars’s orbit, and then swung toward the far side of Earth’s moon.
Disappointment stung me. I’d hoped to get a first-hand glimpse of the red planet.
Carrollus paced the central floor, flinging commands and acknowledgments to the staff manning the stations lining the now-invisible tiers. Tension stood out in the rigid set of his shoulders and in the fire I caught burning behind his eyes when his gaze sought mine for a split second.
The ship arced, altering trajectory, turning us toward Earth. Stars blurred and turned to streaks of light.
I slid sideways in my seat before the webbing caught and held me.
Carrollus steadied himself with a hand on the table.
The tug to the right eased, but I pressed back into my seat. I assumed that meant engines were hurling us at Earth.
I couldn’t see the planet. For several irrational moments, I couldn’t ease the panic clenching my gut over having misplaced home. We were aimed right at the sun. The planet had to be there, somewhere.
“We’re coming in above the ecliptic plane,” Grisham said.
Had my scanning the sky been that obvious?
“And we’re coming in fast,” he went on. “When we slow for descent, the planet will be below us and to your right.”