Harmonics
A Contact/Hetalia Crossover
One-Shot
By: cultureandseptember
"I want all these people out of here. Where's the girl?"
Alfred kept his hands stuffed into his pant pockets, blond hair wild in the wind off the helicopters. "He's going to drive me nuts." Drumlin simply smirked, lowering his sunglasses from his eyes. The younger man just groaned, seeing that the old has-been wasn't going to provide any back-up. "Yeah, well, your hair is getting grayer." Quickly, he caught up with the straight-laced man entering the building.
"Don't even get me started, Alfred. I'm warning you." Kitz glared as they strode through the front doors of the facility, five fully-armed soldiers at their back. Alfred stretched his arms upward to touch the top of the door before latticing his hands behind his head. It was an obvious move of nonchalant disobedience, one that didn't go unnoticed. "You can't ignore me, Alfred. I'm telling you to just…keep to yourself."
At the top of the stairs, and after a huff from the seemingly younger man, National Security Advisor Michael Kitz stopped, turned on the heel of his Italian leather shoes and used his pad of paper to push at the Superman t-shirt. The blond went still, dropping his hands.
"I am very serious, Alfred."
"Yeah, yeah. I get it, Mike."
"I don't think you do." Kitz narrowed his eyes and took a step closer. Alfred lifted his brows in surprise at the forward move of the hardheaded, glorified security guard. "See, the only reason you're here is because the President thought you deserved a field trip for good behavior." The Nation's back stiffened as he drew up to his full height, a good head taller than Kitz. The man took a cautionary step back, clasping his folder to his chest. "This isn't a time for games."
"Do I look like I'm playing, Michael?" Alfred—No, America—challenged with a glint in his normally-pleasant eyes that promised retribution. America, in any form, didn't take kindly to being intimidated. Even the soldiers behind them stood a little straighter at his tone. "Don't even think about getting me started, Kitz." With that said, his demeanor shifted again and his shoulders slumped forward. With a wink, the younger man lifted his hands behind his head again and started through the double doors. "C'mon then, old man. Let's see what Ellie's got for us."
"Oh sure, let's skip on the way there." Kitz's sarcasm earned him a sideways smirk from the Nation.
"Don't tempt me or these people will see something stranger than an alien signal."
He kept to the edge of the conversation, looking out over the array from the wall of windows. Idly, he fiddled with a few of the knobs and buttons. For the most part, he went unnoticed—as he usually did in these circumstances. It was pretty easy to slip into the habit, the edge of the room. Kitz was keeping closeby, despite the five soldiers who were just feet away. Partly to keep him in line, partly to protect him. Alfred shot the man a sour look and crossed his arms, turning his back on the satellites outside. He leaned idly against the console and watched the scene unfold. He could hear the signal in the background, sounding like something out of a horror film.
He'd already checked with Tony, verified with him that there really was a signal. Tony had said that whoever was calling, they weren't from his neighborhood either.
It baffled Alfred. Just thinking about the mechanics of it was kind of astounding. His attention faded from the conversation as he listened to the metallic beats that were being projected into the observatory. A strange anticipation and anxiety was starting to work its way into his chest and arms. Like he needed to punch something or hug it. Either way might relieve the tension. Prime numbers—relativity. It all was a little overwhelming.
They sure couldn't actually be calling from Vega.
That's what Tony said.
He wished he could talk to Albert. The old dude always knew what to say.
"—get decryption people in here now. Lunacharsky's visiting at Cal Tech." Drumlin interrupted the glasses-bro, who seemed to just take the brush off. Alfred grit his teeth and rolled his eyes. Drumlin was a smart guy, sure, but arrogant. Once, he'd correctedAlfred on one of his equations, seeming to forget that he wasn't actually nineteen. America swore to never forget the theoretical putdown that came afterward.
Smirking, Alfred watched as Kitz stepped forward to Drumlin's shoulder.
"Explain this to me. If the source of the signal is so sophisticated, why the remedial math?"
Lowering his head, Alfred tried not to jump into the conversation. A low profile was a condition of the visit and he could see Ellie Arroway approach like a hawk on a half-dead squirrel. It made him a little too eager to see the Head-Hardhead put into place. Cutting his eyes toward the Security Advisor, he saw the man shooting him a very pointed "stay still and keep quiet" look. America narrowed his eyes–'keep quiet' was always taken as a challenge– seeing Dr. Arroway come to a stop in front of him.
"Exactly," Random Dude One nodded, "Why don't they just speak English?"
"Maybe because seventy percent of the planet speaks other languages."
Alfred had to admit— Dr. Arroway was a different level of smart. Not nearly to Alfred or Carl's level, but still very intelligent. It put the old rag Drumlin to shame. America knew it. What was probably worse, Drumlin knew it. And that made this scientist a target. Really, Alfred had been running interference for a while. Tony'd said abound the 1980s that the world should be listening. When the proposal for Arroway and her team came through, he'd backed it in a second. There was no other way for it to get through the right committees, not with something like aliens and extraterrestrials. He'd even introduced Tony to Bill, just to prove his point.
Return on investment, all that.
"Mathematics are the only true universal language, senator. It's no coincidence that they are using primes."
"I don't get it," Kitz responded.
Alfred rolled his eyes. "C'mon, man. This is grade-school stuff. Did you pay attention to anything outside of gym and bullying 101?"
Dr. Arroway shot him a surprised look and he held up both hands, not feeling too bad for revealing himself. The glare that both Drumlin and Kitz sent him might've felt a bit hotter than 1812, but Alfred couldn't really be bothered to care. An alien signal? From outer space? And they expect him to just "keep quiet"? Nah. Arroway looked away and with the patience of a saint explained, "Prime numbers. That would be integers by themselves and one." When the three men just stared at her, she shot Alfred a look.
"Two, three, five, seven…" Alfred smiled reassuringly with a gesture to continue.
A flash of confusion flashed over her face before she focused on turning off the nearby television. "We, uh, think that this may be a beacon." She stepped past him and toward Kitz, who stood a bit taller. His usual intimidation tactic. "Some kind of an announcement to get our attention." Alfred pushed off the consoled to stand behind her, giving a look of firm warning to Kitz.
Drumlin nodded. "Well, if it's attention you wanted, you got that." He raised a finger, holier than thou. "One thing. Vega. People have been looking for years. No results and then yesterday, they start broadcasting primes…Why?" He looked at her as he was looking at an ant. Alfred pushed his hands into the pockets of his suit, stepping over to the doctor that Drumlin had cut off before. Alfred smiled and held out a hand to the scientist.
"—twenty-six years."
"Hey, man. I'm Alfred Jones. You are?"
"Reed Fisher," the man responded with a kind but slightly confused smile. "Jones? Are you an agent or something?" He eyed Kitz who lurked a few steps away.
"Nah, just interested in the work you do here." Instead of following Kitz's usual interrogation tactics and Drumlin's attempts to posture, Alfred instead focused on the screen behind Fisher. He smiled and unbuttoned his jacket, leaning forward. "I mean, this is pretty sweet. Looks like it's modulated?"
"Yeah…" The guy looked a mix between impressed and confused. Alfred glanced over his shoulder to see Kitz distracted. "You—"
"Look at that!" Alfred reached forward to press a finger to the screen. "Over a hundred janskies. One-twelve. I thought they were kidding. Holy crap, dude." Oh, Tony was going to love the hell out of this. He could feel the excitement rolling in his stomach, along with the growing fear. What did this mean? "It's always been possible, but this is…"
"Alfred. Get over here."
America stiffened at the order, rising up from where he leaned over the computer monitor. Trying not to exude too much hostility, he clapped a hand on the thinner man's shoulder. "Good work, Fish. Good work." Striding past him, Alfred arrived a Kitz's shoulder. "Yeah, what's up?" He glanced over to see Dr. Arroway holding the arm of a man with long hair. Ah, Alfred grinned and bounced on his toes. "Am I getting the usual slap on the wrist then, Advisor? You gonna ground me?"
"What part about 'keep to yourself' do you not understand?"
"The part that involves the keeping."
"—could use some help with the spectrum analysis, okay?"
"You know, you're going to—"
"There's a signal from another world and you want to ride my ass?" America shook his head and gestured toward where the blind gentleman was guided to a chair. "If you don't ease up, Kitz, I'll bring Tony in as a consult."
Dr. Arroway pushed between Alfred and the Advisor, bringing attention back to herself, unwittingly. Alfred had to resist the urge to bury his face in his hands. "So, I'll just come to the point, shall I?" Kitz's tone was condescending. "Your having sent this announcement all over the world has created a breach in national security."
"This isn't a person-to-person call."
America kept back, at Kitz's shoulder, mentally counting off all the ways that this was bound to become international. Maybe even intergalactic, if Tony was right. Kitz was fighting a losing battle from the get-go. Losing interest, Alfred focused instead on the blind man who was turning up the volume on the transmission. Pursing his lips, he figured that the best place to be was in the middle of it all—as per his usual. He strolled over to the counter near the gentleman, who was staring into nothing just above Hawaii-shirt Scientists left shoulder. The sound was growing louder and louder, a grating metallic pulse that sent excitement and anxiety coursing through his veins.
"Good to smell you again, Alfred." Kent reached out to press a hand to Alfred's stomach with a reassuring pat. "I figured you would show up."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Dr. Clark."
Kent Clark was a brilliant scientist, one that Alfred really liked. He met him actually when Alfred was completing his doctorate in astrophysics at Berkeley during is crazy late-seventies and then again at the Ames RC in California. At the moment, Kent was turning the volume up and up and up, a curious twist in his face. Alfred could almost hear something in the signal, closing his eyes tightly to tune out Kitz's annoying voice. "Listen to that, Jones." Kent turned the volume still higher. "Harmonics?" Alfred opened his eyes, turning to rest a gentle hand on the man's shoulder as he leaned toward the speaker. The volume went louder.
"Harmonics-laced? Turn it up."
Drumlin entered Alfred's peripheral vision as the pulsing grew more and more metallic, a whispering of something underneath it all. It was like Tony's voice, high-pitched. It was barely-there. Drumlin shot him a look of warning, an order to back off that had Alfred guiding Kent's fingers to turn the signal even louder. The arguing between Arroway and Kitz's was matching the signal and America could feel the blind scientist growing impatient, shoulders tensing under his hand.
"Shh!" Kent threw his head back and Alfred stepped away as Dr. Arroway hurried over. "Listen."
"I hear it."
"Hear what?" Kitz threw out a hand.
"Harmonic?" Dr. Arroway grinned. Alfred almost laughed, but schooled it away.
"Bingo. I had Willie ask RATAN to re-tune to 8.9247 gigahertz. There's a lot more here folks."
Dr. Arroway flew into action while Alfred saddled up next to Kent again, listening closely to the sound. He'd heard something similar before, that other sound that was interlaced. It was garbled, like voice feedback on a radio from back in the day—which usually mean there was a voice on the other end. "Alfred—" He jerked his head around to where Kitz was shaking his head. "Low profile."
"They think you can stay away from this stuff?" Kent questioned with a slight up-quirk to his lips. "Underestimating you again, aren't they?"
"Just a bit," America muttered. His attention shifted to Kitz. "I can help. I am going to help. If you've got a problem with that, talk to the Big Boss. Until you do, I'm shifting civilian. I don't give a damn." Kitz's mouth dropped open in indignant shock. Alfred turned and glanced down at the screen before patting Kent's shoulder and moving past him.
"You can't—"
"Do I look like I'm playing, Michael?"
"—negative sideband."
"I'm already on it."
"What's going on?"
"Another signal!"
"Look at that."
Seeing the signal on the screen only confirmed Alfred's theory and he immediately turned on his heel and headed through the crowd to the back room, hurriedly unhooking the monitor from the cables. Something at the level had to be visual, and with the harmonics, that only meant one thing. He picked up the huge blackbox television and propped it on his shoulder, easy as anything, and strode back into the room, where chaos was unfolding. Gently as he could, Alfred sat it atop some red textbooks just as Dr. Arroway leaned under the desk to start attaching cables to the visual monitor. Willie—the Hawaiian-shirt Scientist—ran around and began connecting the wires as Alfred stepped away, moving to position himself with Kitz, arms crossed over his chest as the scientists worked to find the sense in the chaos of the static-filled screen. The tension of the room was palpable as both Arroway and Drumlin stood in front of the screen and Dr. Fisher worked to clean up the image.
Taking a cautious step forward, America came to stand just in front of the Dr. Clark. "There's a swirling image in the white and black lines," he described for the blind doctor. Kent just nodded, looking extremely uncertain. "It's…It's inverted."
"What the hell?" Kitz questioned as he moved closer.
"Try zooming out."
"It's smaller. Still white and black lines, swirling pattern in the center." Alfred felt a bit breathless as he described it, not really knowing how to put it to words. He felt Kent reach forward and grasp his forearm. If he felt so off-kilter, he could only imagine how Clark felt—hearing that pulsing sound, but not seeing the image that was taking form on the screen. That in and of itself was off-putting enough.
"Inverse values," Drumlin ordered.
"Try zooming out again."
An image began to come into focus as Alfred tilted his head to the right, heart and stomach dropping at a face he'd—He'd never wanted to see again. He sagged a bit, a familiar fear washing over him as the image was rotated 90 degrees. He began to breathe a little faster, almost matching the thumps of the signal. But those weren't pulses at all, were they? Chilling familiarity made him take an involuntary step back as Kent's hand dropped away.
"My God."
German.
A German voice that haunted him even all these years later. "Oh shit."
"Ok." Kitz's voice was filled with stunned acceptance—Like, why shouldn't this lunacy involve the Commander of the Third Reich? Of course, sure. Why not? Alfred felt a little sick with the gravity of it.
Damn him.
Damn it. Of course that bastard had to be the first—to be seen and heard over lightyears. Of—freaking—course.
America really wanted to punch something.
"What's going on?"
Hawaiian-shirt Scientist leaned toward Kent and muttered quietly. "You're not gonna believe this." Alfred was a little frustrated that the explanation didn't quite help his blind friend, but he couldn't quite find the gumption to explain it.
Kitz came to stand at Alfred's shoulder, still holding to his folder. He eyed the Nation up and down before looking critically back at the television. America was shaking—small jolts, but there nonetheless. It was muscle memory, hearing that voice and seeing that symbol. Kitz glanced back at the door and motioned for the soldiers to move back into the already-packed lab. "Stay very still."
"That bastard," Alfred muttered. He wasn't sure who he was referring to exactly. Germany for the technology, for cheering with such a beat that it mimicked a heart. That jerk on screen for steering so many into ruin. It was a sickening realization— that this son of a bitch was the first person the aliens saw. Tony'd never said anything of it. Tony'd recognized, probably, that it was probably a Sucky Topic. He'd be talking to Tony as soon as he got home.
"Does anybody speak German?"
Kitz gave him a warning look as Alfred started to open his mouth.
"Uh," Kent started, "I declare the Games in Berlin at the celebration of the first Olympics of the New Era as opened."
Alfred felt his arms numb a bit. He'd been there, at the ceremony with his athletes, like always. He'd seen it. He'd ranked second that year. It was all intimidating, the way they cheered. He could remember Germany's gold hair in the sunlight. And the way Prussia stood at his side. He could remember it in vivid color, not the black and white on the screen. That son of a bitch! In the present, he saw Kent's sightless gaze fall on him. Only three people in the lab knew what he really was and all three were incredibly aware of his Presence, how it was shifting from a normal person to a Nation. Those chants still haunted him.
"Sieg heil! Sieg heil! Sieg heil!"
Sucking in a breath, Alfred turned on his heel and walked out, pushing past the entering soldiers. Outside, it might be a little less stifling. It might not feel like his lungs were burning with smoke. Outside. He had to get out.
It was time to talk to a certain little gray alien and a couple Nations.
Okay, all the Nations. And Tony had a lot of explaining to do.;"Okay, all the Nations. And Tony had a lot of explaining to do./p