“Could you expand upon what a Lagrange point is for the assembly?”
“Sure,” the scientist replied. “We think of outer space as empty, but it’s not. Gravity shapes space, molding it into what could be figuratively described as different forms, different shapes. Think of a street map. Maps show us how to get from one place to another, but maps are flat, they don’t reveal the hills and gullies that define the land, and so we make topographical maps, maps with wavy lines to indicate the contours of the land. In much the same way, we see space as flat, but the gravitational attraction of the Sun, Moon and Earth means we need a topographical view of space, something to show us the gravitational hills and gullies. A Lagrange point is an area that acts like a hilltop. From a Lagrange point, any which way you move is down, as you’re pulled by the influence of gravity.”
“And so this is expected?”
“I don’t know about expected, but it’s smart. They’re sitting a way off, in a place from which they can easily go anywhere. They can come to Earth, go to the Moon, or retreat into interplanetary space with ease, with a minimum of effort.”
“So you’d say this is a defensive position rather than an offensive one?”
“I… I don’t know,” the scientist replied. “I don’t know that it makes any sense to draw military parallels with their location. It could be neither offensive nor defensive, just practical.”
“What do you think their next move will be?”
“Well, I doubt they came here for sightseeing. They didn’t just happen to cruise into our solar system, they were always headed for Earth. They knew exactly where they were going long before we ever saw them. I think it only makes sense to assume they’ll make contact.”
“How?”
“Mr. Ambassador, I’m a scientist, not a soothsayer. We’ll have to wait and see.”
“Humor me,” the ambassador said. “What’s the most likely scenario?”
“There’s no likely scenario. We’re in uncharted territory. We think they picked up on our electromagnetic radiation, our TV and radio signals as they have been beamed into space over the past century, but they’ve made no effort to communicate with us via radio waves and have ignored our attempts to dialogue.”
“And how have you tried to open dialogue?”
“With crude methods, with communication akin to the semaphore used between naval vessels in World War I. Just flashes of light deliberately sweeping across their craft, but following a pattern of prime numbers. All we’re looking for in return is an acknowledgement on the same frequency, but there’s been nothing. It’s like they’re not listening, which is counterintuitive given they’ve just flown dozens of light-years to get here.”
“And what do you make of that?”
“I think the only thing we can make of it is that their ways are not our ways, their mode of communication has nothing in common with ours. And it’s for this reason, I support the launch of the Orion, as our physical presence in space would be something they would recognize.”
“Oh,” the ambassador replied, “But there’s a danger they could interpret our launch as a hostile act.”
“I don’t think that’s likely. They would have already observed that we have thousands of satellites in orbit, that we have a manned space station, that we have deep space telescopes like the James Webb, so they know we’re capable of space flight. Even though we’ve developed nuclear weapons, it’s not likely we could be a serious threat to them. If their shielding can protect them from the fusion of interstellar hydrogen into helium, a nuclear bomb is going to be like a firecracker.”
“So you disagree with the Addison initiative?”
“Absolutely. Nuclear weapons are so devastatingly effective on Earth because there’s stuff to push around, air that can be super-heated and compressed, but in space, they’re little more than fireworks.”
Another voice broke in over the top of the discussion.
“We interrupt this special session at the United Nations to bring you news from Washington DC, where NASA special liaison Jonathan McKinsey has just announced that the alien craft is in motion, moving in an arc toward Earth. If the initial course is held, NASA expects the craft to enter a stable orbit some eight hundred to one thousand miles above Earth’s surface within the next day.”
The radio transmission was confused. There were several voices talking in the background. Bower could make out terms like perihelion and apogee from a female voice, but it was the drone of a monotonous male voice mumbling in different languages that spooked her.
“Nous venons en paix… Veniamo in pace… Ons kom in vrede… Ni revenos en paco… Wij komen in vrede… Wir kommen in Frieden…”
“As you can hear,” the commentator continued, speaking over the top of the voice. “The craft has begun transmitting a single phrase at 1420 MHz, a phrase repeated over and over again in every known language on Earth, a phrase with only one, unmistakable meaning.”
“Vimos en paz… Erchomaste se eirini… Dumating kami sa kapayapaan… Nou vini nan lape… We come in peace… Rydym yn dod mewn heddwch… dolazimo u miru…”
The radio commentator was silent, allowing the gravity of the moment to be conveyed in the rhythmic repetition of that phrase in multiple languages. The slow, plodding words cast a spell over Bower, leaving her in a trance. In the background, she was vaguely aware of the sound of a truck engine starting up and soldiers hollering.
Jameson said something, but she was barely aware of his words. He tapped her knee, saying, “We need to get the hell out of here before the rebels return in force.”
Bosco switched the radio off and Bower found herself snapped cruelly back to Africa.
“Time to get this show on the road,” yelled Elvis. “We’re going to Vegas, baby, Vegas.”
Chapter 05: Hotel Ksaungu
The road to Ksaungu was full of refugees fleeing the fighting in the rural areas. They marched along the sides of the rough dirt track, spilling into the single lane as they herded goats and cattle before them. Men, women and children called out, pleading to be taken on board the Rangers’ Hummer and the truck, but the soldiers were firm, shouting at the stragglers, peeling their hands away from the back of the truck and watching as they collapsed to the ground, still appealing to the soldiers.
“Surely, we can take some of them,” Bower said, sitting in the cab of the truck with Elvis driving and Jameson riding shotgun.
Elvis was quiet.
Jameson looked at her with eyes that pierced her soul, and for a moment she wasn’t sure if he was going to say anything at all. It seemed his silence spoke loudest, saying what she already knew, that it was a futile effort. Within minutes, they could be joining the refugees on foot if the engine on the truck gave out, and adding more people would only hasten that moment. Besides, who should they save? Those who shouted loudest? Those who pushed and shoved others out of the way? And why these people? What about others further down the road? Were they any less deserving? It was easy to drive on, these people weren’t in any immediate danger, and yet she couldn’t escape the feeling that they were somehow condemned to death.