ACT I | THE TYRANT'S MALEVOLENCE
CHAPTER II | REACTION
CHAMBER OF THE TRIUMVIRATE | GENEVA | SWITZERLAND
"You know, I had hoped that we would have regular meetings, beyond the symbolic yearly speeches," Clovis said idly as they briskly walked down the corridors to the main chamber; corridors which were far busier than they had been during his first visit. "That said, I didn't expect for all of us to meet again quite this soon. Or under these circumstances."
President Quinn walked beside him, her face set in stony contemplation while their accompanying staff hung back, giving space for the two leaders to speak, though he could feel the cold stares of the Secret Service agents on his back. "Of all the things that could happen…" she shook her head in disbelief. "Aliens. Of course it had to be aliens."
Clovis was tempted to make a light-hearted joke about how it could just be a rogue planet or some other less harmful explanation. But the thought died before it reached his tongue, as he was also in little mood for humor. This was…well, it remained to be seen if it was bad or if it was merely problematic.
Neither possibility was ideal.
He sighed, rubbing his forehead. "A shame about Ares. It would have been useful here."
"How?" Quinn snorted, shooting him a skeptical look. "It was always a Soviet vanity project. I could have told you that the project was going to fail. Keeping the Moon supplied and armed is a lot easier than somewhere like…" she flicked a wrist sharply. "Mars."
The ill-fated Ares project by the Triumvirate had been the first – and only – major intra-system colonization attempt on Mars (or any other planet for that matter). Unlike the Moon industrialization, Ares had been a far smaller and less public endeavor due to the high potential for failure. A precaution that had served them well, as while it had shown promise at first, it had ultimately spiraled out of control.
The flagship Gagarin had taken a meteorite right into her propulsion stack just days before landing, and swung past Mars, leaving half of the manned crew and their habitats unable to land. Cargo Lander 4 had caught a computer malfunction into the final descent and smashed into the martian surface - something that shouldn't have happened, with all the experience the Triumvirate had. And then… the environmental systems collapsed.
The Triumvirate had landed on Mars in the end, but far from the proud triumph of planting the Triumvirate flag in the red dirt, it instead became a fight for survival.
The Soviet Union had wanted to stay for 500 days… ultimately the crews pulled out after just 90 and crawled home, losing four people to radiation poisoning from a solar storm to add insult to injury.
It had been a masterly proof of Orion… and an utter failure, vindicating the skepticism of the Chinese and Indians who'd minimally invested in the Soviet-driven initiative. Until they had more experience with unmanned landings, and the Near-Earth Industry project finally spun out a stable long-term life support system, there wouldn't be another Ares mission.
Those Orions had been mothballed in orbit and all but forgotten. Nobody had been willing to make another attempt at a manned landing for the decade since, content with launching, and ever so often losing, unmanned probes to the red desert. Clovis couldn't entirely blame them - the failure hung heavy on shoulders that prided themselves on solving any problem - but it also vexed him. The entire Triumvirate seemed to have forgotten, in one moment of trauma, that failures were part of the job. Playing it safe had never and would never lead to innovation and advancement.
And because we played it safe, we're half-blind on the one planet an alien decided to show up to out of nowhere.
"Vanity project or not," Clovis said, bringing his mind back to the conversation at hand. "We should hope that it gave us something useful, because that's all we have to go on."
They entered the Triumvirate Chamber where the seats were arranged in a single line, as a projector screen had been set up, with engineering staff and specialists talking to each other as they readied their presentation. Presidents Gopal and Li were speaking to each other, though stopped once they saw Quinn and Clovis walking in.
"Apologies for keeping you waiting," he greeted, shaking their hands. "Several last-minute issues to take care of."
"I suspect you are having an easier time than we are," Gopal ran a hand over his head. "In all my years, I have never seen such chaos in my nation."
"Rioters I assume?" Clovis inclined his head. "My sympathies."
"Worse. Protestors," Gopal muttered. "Demanding answers and solutions. And far too many people claiming it's the apocalypse and this alien is a god come down to Earth. Utter rubbish, but it has taken root in the minds of too many."
Clovis kept a straight face, though it wasn't easy to hide his utter lack of sympathy for the predicament. Shocking. You radicalize your citizens through your religion and then act surprised when they actually believe it. Idiot. Maybe Gopal would realize there was a reason that harnessing religious nationalism wasn't the most reliable way to build a power base.
Of course, he just had the police and military put down any that got out of hand, so he probably wouldn't learn anything.
One of the main presenters cleared his throat. He wore a white lab coat with the American Flag emblazoned on the shoulder, and the NASA one on the opposite. He was a tall man, though definitely a civilian. Short, groomed black hair covered his head, and thin-rimmed glasses were placed before his eyes.
Jacob Hardy, Director of NASA, and by extension, the main arm of the American space program and astronomical monitoring. Not surprising Quinn had brought him along. "Gentlemen, ladies, we are ready when you are."
Together, the four made their way to take their seats, though Clovis hesitated. Getting to the presentation was essential, but there needed to be something to set the proper tone as to what they wanted to achieve today. Since no one seemed willing to take charge, it appeared to fall to him.
"If I may have a word first, Director," he said, lifting a hand.
"Of course, General Secretary," Director Hardy bowed his head and backed away.
"Thank you," Clovis looked towards his three colleagues. "I won't repeat the obvious too much. We are in an unprecedented situation, both for our species and for the Triumvirate. Unless there is a contingency I am unaware of, we are, quite frankly, unprepared. This alien thing could do what nations and terrorists have schemed and failed to do – bring us down."
He lifted a finger. "However, that will only happen if we let that happen. I must emphasize that no matter what we decide to do based on the information provided today, we adhere to it without question. We must present a firm and united front to the world. This alien is doubtless watching, and if there is division, it will be exploited."
Clovis allowed a short pause, noting Quinn gave a slight nod of agreement. "I am not necessarily jumping to the worst-case scenario," he said. "The intentions of this alien may not be hostile. But make no mistake, as we cannot allow arrogance to blind us to the fact that no matter what we are facing, it is doubtless more advanced than we are."
He indicated the director. "Thank you, Director Hardy, please begin."
"Thank you, General Secretary," the Director of NASA took the place of Clovis, who sat down in the empty chair. "Approximately thirty-six hours ago, this entity appeared in orbit above Mars," the projection came to life and showed the original image Clovis had seen of the sphere hovering above the red planet.
Even having seen it before, it was unsettling.
Alien.
"We have designated this entity as ENIGMA-1," Hardy continued, turning to the projector screen with a laser pointer in hand. "Since initial contact, we have received no signals or transmissions from it. We have made multiple communication attempts in all known broadcast forms, and received nothing. It implies that ENIGMA-1 is either unequipped to receive our transmissions or intentionally not responding."
The projector screen flipped to several more, much higher quality images. "In the later hours we've acquired multiple pictures of ENIGMA-1 in more detail. Based on estimated measurements, we believe it is perhaps between one-fourth and one-third the size of the Moon. Mass is unable to be calculated."
"Any indication of propulsion or engineering?" Quinn asked.
"No, and that's something very odd," Hardy admitted, using the laser pointer to highlight several of the pictures. "We have no idea what the external shell is made out of, but there are very clear markings etched into it. We don't know if this is its language or if they have some practical function. But we see no external engines. We can't explain it, but it appears to be completely smooth. No external engines, entrances, exits – nothing."
Gopal frowned. "Then how did it get here?"
"Unknown, Mr. President," Hardy apologized. "It could be magic for all we know."
"You're a scientist," Gopal snorted. "Speak like one."
"A figure of speech, but I also say that because we don't have a plausible, let alone scientific explanation as of now," Hardy replied calmly. "And considering some of what ENIGMA-1 has done – and in the process of doing, it is capable of doing something which defies our scientific understanding. Administrator Qiao will explain." He stepped back as another man in a Chinese uniform came forward.
Ulysses Qiao was something of an oddity in the Chinese. An immigrant from America, he was ethnically Caucasian, spoke with a Texan accent, but was able to speak fluent Mandarin. Clovis wished he'd reviewed the KGB file on him, since it seemed like there was a story behind a man like that.
Regardless, his talent had led him to eventually become the Administrator of the Chinese National Space Administration, essentially the Chinese equivalent of NASA, although more militarized. "Thank you, Director," Qiao moved the projector several slides forward. "I am certain that all of you are aware of the Ares One project. It was a failure, but there were some pieces of equipment that still occasionally transmit. Usually useless data, but it has proven invaluable today."
He gestured to the screen, which was a slide of a bunch of numbers, charts, and data that Clovis frankly had no idea what it was. "This is atmospheric and environmental conditions on Mars on a typical day," Qiao explained. "If you don't understand this, it's fine, all you need to know is that Mars is a very inhospitable place. No oxygen, extremely hot in the day and cold at night, and soil impossible for vegetation to thrive in. This is Mars as of three hours ago."
A new slide appeared, with different data and charts. "The short version is this," Qiao turned to them somberly. "The alien is terraforming the planet."
The Triumvirate leaders looked between each other. "Some elaboration is required," Clovis said dryly. "How it is doing this?"
"We're not sure, but we think it has something to do with the substance it is excreting," Qiao moved to another slide that showed the golden aura and mist surrounding the alien sphere descending on the planet. "We've theorized several explanations," Qiao continued. "Powerful chemicals, advanced nanotech, but none of them line up with the readings we've been able to acquire. But according to the data we have, if ENIGMA-1 is allowed to continue terraforming, Mars will be inhabitable in no more than two months."
"When you say inhabitable…" Li said slowly.
"I mean you could live on it without a helmet, breathe the air, and grow food," Qiao finished. "It is changing the atmosphere and nature of the planet on a fundamental level. Slowly, imperceptibly, but it is happening. Of course, I can't speak to any other challenges inhabiting the planet would bring – but it would be far more successful than Ares One was."
"My question now is this," Clovis said, focusing on the image. "If this alien is deliberately terraforming Mars to make it livable, why?"
"I can't answer that," Qiao bowed his head. "Not without communicating with it. But it seems intent on ignoring our transmissions. I don't know what it intends, but for the moment it does not seem hostile."
"And you say it will be there for at least two months," Li said.
"Yes, provided the intent is to make Mars inhabitable." He said. "However, inhabitable is not necessarily ideal. If it intends to be thorough, I'd expect at least several months more."
"What is the possibility that this is a drone or otherwise automated?" Quinn wondered thoughtfully. "This can't be typical behavior."
"Truthfully, Madam President, we are dealing with an alien. We have no idea what is or is not typical," he said in a slightly corrective tone. "That said, we haven't ruled out the possibility of automation. And the behavior it has exhibited does indicate some kind of automation. But again, we can't say for sure. For all we know, it isn't aware that we are here."
The Triumvirate leaders sat in silence for a few moments in contemplation. Clovis finally leaned forward. "Well then. It appears that the next question is what we will do."
"Simple," Gopal said. "We let it be, and hope it goes away. They say it isn't hostile, and it sounds like an automated drone. That such things exist is…unsettling…but I don't think we should risk provoking it."
"That isn't necessarily the wrong approach," Li said cautiously, lacing his fingers together as he also looked up at the screen. "Intervention could cause more harm than good. If there is one here, there are doubtless others elsewhere. I would prefer we not entangle ourselves unnecessarily."
"This thing has been in orbit for thirty-six hours," Quinn pointed out. "That is nowhere near enough time to determine it's normal patterns, let alone it's motivations and objectives. Propose this again in a week and I'd give it some more consideration - and say we wait – what do we do when it doesn't leave. Or worse, if it comes here next?"
"I'm not saying we don't prepare," Gopal defended, glaring at Quinn. "I'm saying we don't make first contact."
Clovis internally sighed. Already the topic was moving in a wearily predictable direction. Exactly what he expected Gopal to do, and Li was cautious enough to consider it. Quinn was a bit more ambitious, but she was also going to have to be prodded in a different direction. But was he going to sit there and watch them play it safe?
Oh no. Definitely not.
The Triumvirate was not going to play it safe this time. Clovis didn't know what that thing was, but he had a very strong feeling that it wasn't a problem that was going to suddenly go away. Time to remind these people who they were. "Please. Listen to all of you," he began, not keeping the scorn out of his voice. "Already admitting defeat when we know only the bare minimum."
"Pragmatism is not admitting defeat," Gopal stated.
"Pragmatism or cowardice," Clovis snorted. "I would like to remind you all of the dangers of taking the safe path. Ares One scared us and we backed off. We made excuses to focus on something else. Instead of taking that experience and learning from it, we shuttered it and pretended it didn't matter. If we had decided to push forward; if we had taken the risk, then we might be having a very different conversation today."
He pointed to the screen, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on his Indian counterpart. "I cannot speak for your citizens, but I am certainly not telling mine that we're just going to wait this out. That tells them we fear what this thing can do, we fear we are not capable of defending them. I would much prefer we be proactive than hide on our planet."
"And what is your solution?" Gopal demanded with as exasperated hand wave. "We send an Ares Two to it and try and talk with it?"
Clovis smiled, and leaned back, allowing himself to relax as he swung one leg over the other. "That is exactly what I am proposing, President Kusari. This problem is not going away. Aliens are real. We know that now. Drone or not, this is now marked in some alien database, and they will come back. I'd prefer to know now if they are ally or enemy. There is one of them now. If we're afraid of confronting one of these aliens, how are we going to handle two, or Marx help us, three?"
"And what if it starts attacking us?" Gopal insisted.
"We defend ourselves," Clovis said simply. "I don't know what that shell is made out of, but to remind you: between the anti-nuclear defenses, the heavy platforms and the Orion fleet, we have enough beam weapons to defend our assets and enough nuclear systems to crack an asteroid. We have defenses, and we can launch more. I'm not saying it wouldn't be costly – but I am saying it is worth the risk. Again – this problem isn't going away."
"He's right," Quinn nodded. "I dislike dealing with the unknown or running from it. If we are strong enough to handle it, we should know, and if we can't…that's also something we should know. We have to go about this smartly. We can organize a mission to Mars, likely just in time for the terraforming to complete. If it is friendly…we negotiate. If it's hostile, we destroy it."
Clovis decided to make it a bit more appealing for the more reluctant Chinese and Indians. "I wouldn't say that you need to risk everything – I fully accept that this is my idea and I will take the majority of responsibility. But consider what happens if we succeed." He fixed Gopal with a stare, and smile on his face.
"We forge an agreement with an alien which can terraform planets," he said easily. "An alien which can give us access to technologies and sciences we only have the faintest grasp of. We can bring not just the Solar System under our control, but systems beyond. The secrets of interstellar travel are within our grasp now."
He leaned back. "Or we destroy this celestial alien. We slay a god from the stars. A being of alien might which should not fall – but it did. We take what it leaves behind, and use it. Who would dare challenge us when the Triumvirate saved the Human race? Who would question our mandate of control?"
Clovis let that sink in for a few seconds, while stroking his chin. "Now, I acknowledge the risk. Perhaps this thing has the power to destroy us, but if that is the case, then a few more years until the next one shows up won't make a difference. People may die. Our power may be threatened – but I tell you – it already is. The moment this alien appeared, the dynamics of the narrative have shifted. If we do nothing, we show our fear to the world, and it will embolden our enemies who would now understand that it is not pragmatism that drives us, but fear."
He laced his fingers together, one final point to be made. "We cannot become so comfortable with power that we fear to risk it. No power is acquired without risk. We stand to become the true undisputed power of Humanity, and we risk the unknown. We risk our destruction, certainly, but I argue that doing nothing also weakens our influence. This is the choice before us. What will it be?"
Gopal and Li were silent for several moments, a few expressions briefly flashed across their faces. He was fine with waiting, because without them even speaking, he knew what they would say.
Perhaps this situation can be salvaged after all.
He looked to the image of the alien sphere, with the power radiating off of it.
Now, all you have to do is not blast us out of the sky.
RESISTANCE COUNCIL CHAMBER | TEL AVIV | ISRAEL
It was rare for the Resistance Council, composed of each commander of the six major cells, to personally meet in one place. Not necessarily rare from a safety standpoint – all of them could make it without placing themselves in danger – but from an operational and logistical one. It was effectively impossible to coordinate where there wouldn't be operations disrupted, delayed, or canceled, and for the Resistance, where things could change in minutes, and operations were everything, constant focus was needed.
Virtual communication was too risky since it ultimately relied on Triumvirate infrastructure in some parts of the world, nor was it frankly good enough for holding such talks in real time. It was much harder for the Dead and Wheel cells operating in the caves of Iran or the nuclear wasteland of Pakistan to have quality communication to the Sterling and Jackal cells in more developed nations of Britain and Israel.
Thus, such meetings were only held on the rarest of occasions, for the most serious discussions. Since the foundation of the Resistance, they had only held these meetings two dozen times.
And this was one of those times.
The Grand Ayatollah sat at the head of the table in the enclosed and spartan room which was one small part of the underground command structure Israel had built in the event of nuclear war. There was only a metal table, chairs, and a television on the far end of the room. But they did not need much room to make decisions.
The six commanders sat around the table, three per side. On the far left sat Jilla Pitaft, Commander of the Wheel Cell. Just pushing past sixty, she was one of the oldest members of the Resistance. Formerly the Pakistani Minister of Defense, she had only avoided the nuking of Islamabad due to a mixture of timing and luck. Since then, she had been focused on gathering the remaining Pakistani soldiers, civilians, and striking back against India.
She was a hardened, broken woman who only desired India to burn. The hatred and pain she carried had never faded, and she'd admitted to him that she never wanted it to. He could not truly blame her, and had endorsed her Jihad against the Indian government who had carried out the act – but only the soldiers and administration.
There were lines he would not openly cross, though the nature of their work forced him to look the other way at times.
Sitting next to her was Jomar Liberman, a middle-aged Israeli with graying hair, and without a doubt the coldest man of the Council. Even Kane had some emotional drive to him. The Commander of the Jackal Cell, Liberman was Israel's direct contribution to the Resistance, and was clinical, emotionless, and thoroughly ruthless to a degree even the Ayatollah was surprised by sometimes.
He often worked closely with the Quds Force, and Hamaza did privately admit that the man's understanding of religious doctrine, psychology, and radicalization was superb and regularly employed. Still, he was a man to be treated cautiously, even if implicitly he had earned his place and their trust.
And to his left sat one he considered a personal friend. Father Ryan Mills, an elderly Catholic Priest from America who managed the Star Cell, which was likely the largest Human smuggling operation in the world. Though unlike the nefarious implication, this was strictly focused on extracting people living in dangerous nations, and moving them to somewhere more tolerant.
Given the state of Hindu nationalism, Chinese crackdowns on non-conformative religions, and the deep Soviet surveillance of 'destabilizing' faiths, such acts were unfortunately needed. America was not a completely safe haven for the persecuted, but it was far better than leaving them somewhere else.
And when America could not suffice, Canada, the United Kingdom and Israel were also waiting. The destination was ultimately not as important as getting people somewhere safe.
Of course, the reason the Resistance supported the largely humanitarian mission was because a not-insignificant portion of the rescued joined the Resistance. Father Ryan played a very dangerous game, using his status as a priest to travel the world and establish the networks needed for these operations, but his work was pure in a way none of them could claim.
Both certainly disagreed on topics, which was inherent given their divergent faiths, but both of them had a unique perspective. Hamaza was grateful to have him as a friend.
On the opposite side of the table was his ever-faithful supporter, Amjah al-Muhammad, Commander of the Quds Force and consequently the Quds Cell. Young, following in the footsteps of his father, and he had now exceeded them in Hamaza's view. He lacked some of the experience necessary, but he would acquire it soon enough.
Seated next to him was Isaiah Kane, Commander of the Dead Cell. He was one man who Hamaza admittedly didn't know as much about, though none of the other Commanders knew him intimately either. Isaiah rarely talked about himself, and only made clear his commitment to destroying the Triumvirate. The fact that he was a hardened veteran of the Australian Conquest and later Occupation was explanation enough for his outlook.
He was also probably the most dangerous soldier in the entire Resistance. His kill count during the Conquest ranked in the tens of hundreds. He'd hunted down spies of all nations. He'd outwitted KGB assassins and outshot the militarized American police. He'd slaughtered numerous Chinese police squads and fanatical Indian mobs. Whenever he appeared, the Triumvirate felt pain.
His habit of taking monikers, titles, and names was also a quirk of his. Usually it was based on mythology. Loki, Ra, Daedalus, and now apparently Osiris. He also tended to not respond to anything but those names when addressed. Most of the time people didn't, since he tended to figure out if someone was talking to him or not.
The final member of the Council was Arya Burns, Commander of the Sterling Cell and Britain's contribution to the Resistance. A staunch anti-Soviet, having fled as the Netherlands was consumed by a worker's revolution, she'd found her way to MI6 and was now managing the largest money laundering operation in the world.
When it came down to it, the Sterling Cell was how the Resistance could continue to sustain themselves.
Time to start.
On the television was an image of the alien starship that had captured the attention of the entire planet. "Officially, the Triumvirate has stated that the entity is an alien spacecraft they are attempting to make contact with and are preparing an expedition to meet it," the Grand Ayatollah began. "This announcement was made in a joint statement, and since then each leader has independently reinforced it."
The first days it had been a question of what the response would be. The Triumvirate had quickly put an end to the rampant speculation on the end of the second day with the joint statement, and had been making media blitzes each day since, selling the idea that they were going to launch a mission to Mars.
If there was one thing the Triumvirate was good at, it was commanding attention, controlling the narrative - and not saying anything of substance at all. So-called experts, military leaders, and political figures had all been interviewed and at the end many words were spoken, but nothing about the alien ship was actually learned.
"Let's start with the good news," Kane said. "They're focused on this now – not us. We have opportunities."
"Which we should use," Liberman added smoothly. "This opening won't come again. And unlike other situations, they cannot pause what they are doing. Compared to an alien, I believe we will be a lesser priority."
"Operational freedom in a sense," Jilla noted. "It's already chaos in New Delhi. Many opportunities to strike."
"Or the Triumvirate is going to be on high alert," Arya countered rhetorically, crossing her arms staring opposite Liberman. "Things are tense around the world. Yeah, they might not be hunting your operatives, but they're still going to be respond. In fact, it might even be more dangerous."
"And what do you suggest we do?" Liberman asked the Englishwoman neutrally, with a raised eyebrow as he rested his arms on the table. "Nothing? Business as usual?"
"What I want to know is why we're not talking about the alien that just showed up?" She demanded with some exasperation. "Are we just going to pretend that isn't happening?"
"I'll care about the alien thing when it shows up here," Kane stated flatly. "We can't do anything about it, so why should we care, exactly? And out of curiosity, are we just going to buy this alien starship, which just so happened to appear out of nowhere – literally nowhere? Isn't it a little convenient? Just the perfect excuse for the Triumvirate to potentially begin the process of 'uniting humanity' to counter the alien threat…" he trailed off as Liberman slid a file across the table.
"Read it," the Mossad operative said in a dry voice. "I don't blame your skepticism, but for once the Triumvirate isn't lying. The alien is real. Israeli astrologists have confirmed. I suspect the British have done the same."
"The Crown received a briefing this morning," Arya confirmed with a nod. "It's real. A few of our controlled contractors are working with NASA and got data directly from the satellites. They have no idea what it is, to shorten the story. But it's real."
Kane took it in stride. "I stand corrected," he flipped the packet open. "In that case…" he shook his head in disbelief. "Damn. Aliens."
"Mrs. Burns is correct that we should centralize our strategy going forward around this alien," Father Ryan said. "This world will be changed forever with this revelation. It could lead to revolution."
"Rather optimistic, Father," Arya said dryly. "I don't suppose you have some special insight into what this thing is?" She glanced to Hamaza. "Or you for that matter, Ayatollah?"
The Ayatollah gave very careful thought before giving her an answer. Although it wasn't as if he had a satisfying one to give. The world would doubtless expect the faith of many to be shaken by such a revelation, yet there wasn't necessarily anything inherently contradictory about alien life.
Although it certainly was a missing blank in theological doctrine. Not just in Islam, but most faiths.
However, alien life was unquestionably not of a godly origin. He was deeply suspicious of the alien ship and what it represented. At best it could be an ally…of sorts. Whatever this alien was, it was untouched by Allah so it could never be fully trusted. Yet he wondered if there was something important around this alien he could not see.
If it moved to Earth, what it did next would determine if it was something to be feared or not.
He knew very well that his belief different from Ryan's. Yet he answered Arya's question first. "I can give no explanation of where it came from. But it is not of earthly or heavenly origin. It is not our ally and should not be trusted."
Ryan laced his fingers together. "I seem to have a more…optimistic attitude than my friend. I cannot say for certain what this being is, but I think it is unquestionably a blessing from God, delivered to us at a time where we desperately need it."
"Please," Kane snorted, fixing the priest with a hard stare. "No disrespect, Father, but if you're suggesting that this alien is God's answer to us now, then explain where he was when the Indians were nuking the Pakistanis, when the Chinese were slaughtering and raping the Japanese, and when the Americans were running death squads in South America? Why the hell would God care now?"
"I cannot give you what you want to hear," Ryan said softly. "But all of us are aware of the reality of the situation. We stand opposed to a titan of unthinkable proportions. We chip away at power along the edges of relevance. We all know that it will take a miracle for the Triumvirate to fall." He looked to the image of the alien. "Perhaps this is our miracle. Are you really going to condemn God for not acting fast enough?"
"No…" Kane pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. "But I'm sure going to judge him for it. Fine. If this alien was sent by God – which I doubt – it better have a good reason for not showing up a lot sooner." He glanced to Hamaza. "For once I agree with the Ayatollah on something religious. This thing is probably on its own and not our friend. I wouldn't get excited yet."
"And what are we hoping for?" Jilla asked, looking around the table. "It being friendly? It being an enemy?"
"I wouldn't mind seeing if this thing can cut down the Triumvirate to size," Amjah said. "However, that would bring it towards Earth and…" He looked to the Ayatollah and shook his head.
"And what?" Kane saw the younger man exchanging a glance with the Ayatollah. "Wait, this is a religious thing, isn't it. Go on, I want to hear it."
"It…depends," Hamaza said slowly. "This alien…it appears it can touch things. Change them, if the information Mrs. Burns provided is accurate."
"And that is a problem because…?"
"If it comes to Earth, and touches the holy land of Lebanon," Amjah answered with pursed lips. "Then it would be a sign of the end of the world. It could be the Beast of the Earth, a herald of the death of the true believers."
"Right," Kane sighed. "I don't know what I expected."
The man was dismissive, but the Ayatollah wasn't offended. A man who lacked faith couldn't understand. For himself though, it was a deep concern. The sphere of alabaster and a golden aura certainly didn't match the chimera described in the texts, but only if one went by a literal interpretation…something he was no longer as strongly tied to.
This alien had patterns etched into its shell. It seemed capable of some kind of creation or terraforming. The pieces were there, and if they came together, the implications were concerning for the fate of the world. He wasn't quite ready to make such a declaration, but it was a possibility he couldn't dismiss out of hand.
He would pray it stayed far from Earth.
"The worst-case scenario is this," Arya said, brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. "The Triumvirate does their little first contact mission. It works, and the alien is friendly. It gives them advanced technology. The result? We are screwed hard."
"Would this alien assist a regime like the Triumvirate?" Ryan wondered with a frown.
"It's an alien," Liberman said calmly. "I doubt it holds morality or conscience like you or I do. What is to say it would view the Triumvirate as evil – or even consider that a bad thing. That is the issue – we don't know."
"We need to get ahead of it," Kane spoke up, straightening as if an idea had just come to it. "Good thinking Arya."
"Sorry?" She cocked her head.
"The Triumvirate is going to get there first, and we can't get to them," he said, almost to himself. "So we need to hijack it."
Amjah caught on. "Infiltrate and go along with them when they launch their mission."
"Exactly," Kane nodded. "I don't like the idea of this alien, but letting it talk to the Triumvirate unhindered is a bad idea. If nothing else it should hear the truth from some of us."
"I like it," Arya nodded. "I'm sure we can get one or two people on the engineering contracting teams. There'll be at least a few."
"And we can doubtless get some people replaced," Liberman noted. "An infiltration of this first contact mission. Feasible. More impactful than simply attempting to take advantage of their distraction."
"This will be something we need our best for then," Kane said. "I'll go. I have a few people in mind."
"Alright, but numbers will likely be very small," Arya tapped a finger to her lips. "A dozen at most. Probably less, if I'm being honest."
"I'll make it work," Kane said, a lipless smile stretching on his face. "In the meantime, I think we can still take advantage of some of the chaos around the world. The crackdowns may push a few more people into our arms."
"I'm anticipating as much," Ryan sighed. "The Triumvirate is predictable in their suppression."
"Then we are in agreement," Hamaza stated. "We will infiltrate the Triumvirate's manned mission and appeal to this alien. Then we see what will happen."
"I think so," Kane nodded. "Let's hope it's willing to listen."
TRIUMVIRATE INTELLIGENCE COMMAND | TAMPA | CONFEDERATION OF AMERICAN STATES
Some days, Hayden Fox felt like he was treated like a joke.
Or at least his job was.
An alien had appeared and was in the process of terraforming a planet. One would think that he – as the Director of the most influential intelligence organization in the world – would have a critical role to play or otherwise be heavily involved in determined the appropriate response.
Well, he had been. Initially.
Now, one month later, he was stuck dealing with the idiots and gullible of his species. This was, admittedly, something of an international security concern, and also relevant to his job, but at the same time, it just seemed so pointlessly trivial. The name his Chief Organization Overseer had said, and who had been saying for the past half hour brought it home just what he was spending his time doing.
"Could you repeat that?" He asked, thinking – and hoping - he misheard.
"Of course, Director," Andal Brask said, not bothering to hide his amusement. "The Followers of the Holy Star of Armageddon."
He hadn't misheard. Fuck me. "Another suicide cult?"
"No, surprisingly enough," Brask consulted his tablet with a quick glance. "Outside of their utterly edgelord title, this is closer in organization to a doomsday prepper militia than a cult. I suspect the over-the-top name is to make people dismiss them as a joke. Seems to be composed of your wildland folks, ex-military, and survivalists."
He looked up. "Sir, while I know this isn't exactly the most important of topics, I'm doing my best to limit myself to things of an actual security importance. A group like this could be trouble if left unchecked."
"Right," Fox leaned back, briefly closing his eyes. "What's their manifesto?"
"Officially, it is 'the acceptance of knowing that the end of the world is coming, and only by recognizing the Holy Star of Armageddon and following her teachings may we have a chance of survival'," he explained in a dry tone. "They are led by the 'Chosen One of Armageddon'. It isn't entirely devoid of effort and production value. They have a functioning website, some promotional media, though 'disciples' need to prove themselves before 'being accepted'."
"Wonderful," Fox sighed. Each of those were definitely signs of paramilitary recruitment. "And since you're talking about it, it's big."
"Bigger than is safe," Brask nodded. "And curiously enough, they have a preference for fit, isolationist, anti-government types who can handle weapons. Very picky. Can't imagine why. They have chapters in each major Triumvirate nation. I don't necessarily think they're hostile yet, but we should bring in the 'Chosen One of Armageddon' to make some things clear."
"Good idea," in the wake of the alien appearing, many Humans, as was their nature, had decided that the best way to come to terms with this revelation was to completely make stuff up. Dozens of cults and religions had sprung up overnight. Most had faded or died out quickly (the suicide cults took care of that particular problem rather fast), but a month later, and there'd definitely been some changes to the religious scene.
"Next on the agenda," Brask began as he paced. "And this is bad news – Scientology has grown eleven percent over the past month."
"I'm sorry," Fox, leaned forward, rubbing his eyes, legitimately aghast. "How the hell did that happen?"
"Ah, well," Brask rubbed his goatee thoughtfully. "You see, if you weren't aware, Scientology purportedly believes in a being called 'Xenu', who is, and I quote 'the Dictator of the Galactic Confederacy", who brought billions of aliens to Earth, put them around volcanos, killed them with hydrogen bombs, and the spirits of those alien adhere to humans and are the source of all pain and negative emotions we experience today."
Fox stared at him for a few long seconds and was tempted to throw the cup of pencils at his desk at him. "Please tell me you made that up."
"Nope!" Brask smiled darkly. "Now, that is something you're supposed to learn only when you 'advance through the ranks' – or as we say 'donate money' – to the church. But it is very much their doctrine. None of them actually believe it – I hope - but you better believe they're going to milk this for all it's worth. They used to hide that story because it made them sound like idiots, and now they're publicly stating it as evidence that they were right."
The expansion of Scientology was the absolute last thing anyone needed. Technically in America it could operate legally because it was a religion, and since the disastrous Snow White incident, they had stayed clear of interfering in politics, so the Confederation largely ignored it. But in his view, it was among the worst scams that perpetuated throughout the western hemisphere. It was not a religion. It existed solely to make money.
Despicable. Suckers the gullible people may be, but it didn't make charlatans like Scientology justified.
"Now, now," Brask said in a consoling voice, lifting a hand. "I have an idea."
"Explain."
"Since the Scientologists are bragging so much about knowing this ahead of time," he said with a smile. "I think it would be prudent to bring in the leadership, and ask them why they sat on such 'important knowledge' without sharing it with the Triumvirate. That would, I believe, be a violation of national and international law."
Oh yes, I like where this is going.
Fox smiled as he rapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. "Why yes, yes it would be. It would also authorize a thorough investigation of the church and anyone who was involved. Wouldn't it be a shame if we happened to uncover other crimes along the way."
"Such a shame," Brask mocked. "And wouldn't an omission like this technically be considered treason? Which brings the death penalty into consideration?"
Fox tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Why yes, yes it does."
"It might be harsh," Brask sighed dramatically before shrugging. "But the law is the law!"
Both men chuckled as Fox made a short note. The entire American Intelligence Community – and most people who had a brain - had wanted to punish the Scientologists for a long time since the Snow White stunt, but there hadn't been enough reason or motivation for it to justify the outcry that would inevitably follow. Now though, certain measures were more tenable.
If this brought down the Scientologists, he would thank that alien himself.
"In more serious news, our favorite Ayatollah put out a fatwa on the alien," Brask continued. "I thought you'd want to hear it."
"Took him long enough," Fox laced his fingers together, genuinely interested in what the Israeli puppet had to say. "He's usually quicker to respond, considering his outsized influence."
"He's pragmatic," Brask shrugged. "One reason he's still alive. He probably had a lot to consider. It's not really much either. He basically says that the alien is not of earthly or heavenly origin, and that it may be a force for good, yet cannot be trusted until it is observed more."
"Which translates to, 'I have no idea'," Fox grunted. "At least he's honest."
"More or less follows the rest of the established religious world," Brask noted. "A lot less condemnations than we expected overall. A lot of caution. No calls of the apocalypse outside a few extremist Christian sects. It's a bit odd that the religions are not jumping to conclusions on what it is."
"Indeed," Fox considered that for a moment. The reasons were probably more pragmatic than spiritual. The leadership of religion was often more level-headed and smarter than the followers. They knew very well that making provocative statements could cause mobs and protests and cause the state to react, cutting into their numbers, and by extension, their profits.
The western religions had seen how the Hindus had reacted and decided they didn't want any part of that.
"I have one more item worth mentioning," Brask interjected, tapping on his tablet. "Not something as pressing from a security standpoint, but something to watch for in the future."
"Which is what?"
"A new religion, or at least one forming," Brask explained. "A legitimate one it seems like. Surrounding the alien, obviously. Largely grassroots, online, and apparently decentralized so far. To my knowledge there isn't a name for it nor is there a priest or preacher equivalent per-se."
"Worship of the alien I presume?" Fox cocked his head.
"Not necessarily," Brask corrected, lifting a finger. "There's some internal debate about that going on. Everyone sees that the alien is changing Mars now. They think that the alien is an agent of that change, yes, but they're not certain if it's her or that substance she secretes."
"Her?"
"Don't ask me how they decided it," Brask shrugged. "Probably tied to 'mother Earth' and connections like that. The creation and nurturing aspect likely influenced it."
"Understood," he nodded, rubbing his chin. "As for the substance – do they mean the light?" There were a few names that were ascribed to the celestial energy or substance surrounding ENIGMA-1; aura, energy, cloud, nebulae, and light were all common names ascribed and largely interchangeable until there was an official designation by the scientists.
"Yes, that," Brask nodded. "They believe it's a fundamental force of creation in the galaxy. After all, it is turning a dead rock into something presumably alive. The whole religion is less focused on a 'god' per-se, and is more spiritual in practice. As a result it's drawing interest from a large number of agnostic and even atheist communities."
"Interesting," Fox mused. "America-localized or international?"
"International," Brask confirmed. "Ah, except China. Officially. As far as I know something similar hasn't manifested in Chinese communities, but I suspect it will spread once the concept gets past the Firewall. It's primarily American, but with healthy Soviet and some Indian contributions."
"Well, as long as it stays peaceful, I don't see it as an issue," Fox said, leaning back in his chair. "If we substitute Scientology with this…religion, I'll take that. But keep an eye on it. This is a ripe time for the cult leaders to come in and take over."
The young man made a note. "And…done."
"Good," Fox said. "Anything else?'
"Nothing except the daily ENIGMA-1 update," he said, handing Fox the latest pictures and charts collected by NASA and CNSA. "In short, everything is still on track for Ares One 2.0."
"I can't believe they're going with that name again," Fox muttered, taking the update and reading it.
When he'd first been told that the alien was terraforming Mars, he'd been skeptical. Even more skeptical that within months it could be made livable. But the data didn't lie, and the alien ship was methodical in the terraforming. It seemed to be able to ignore gravity, force, and the fundamental rules to be able to plant itself where it wanted around the planet and do it's thing.
It was bizarre, yet fascinating to witness. Within one day it could position itself in three dozen places.
It definitely knew what it was doing, and already the surface of Mars looked changed. There were more ravines, lighter shades of brown were seen, clouds of water were forming, and ice caps were slowly starting to expand. It was fantastical and surreal, but very much happening.
Fox was optimistic that no matter what happened, this was what needed to happen. With this kind of opportunity in front of them, the Triumvirate would fully unite and claim not just Earth, but the rest of the system for their own.
To think only a short time ago he'd feared the eventual collapse of the Triumvirate.
This, he thought to himself, was a good reminder of how things could change.
And how they could change quickly.
SOVIET SPACE MARINE LUNAR COMMAND | THE MOON
There were few times when Valentin saw the full Lunar battalion of the Soviet Space Marines on standby, and those had been for purely ceremonial events, such as the yearly message to Earth and that time when several film directors had come to produce documentaries on the base for recruitment back on Earth.
There was nothing quite like Soviet power projection with the utterly massive hangar which was capable of holding the entire battalion of one thousand Space Marines who were organized before an elevated platform where an equally oversized Soviet flag hung vertically from the ceiling, with smaller flags around the room, and the statues of Lenin, Stalin, and other famous Soviet leaders interspersed throughout.
Imposing, but it certainly felt unnecessary for somewhere like the Moon of all places. It wasn't as though there was a huge civilian population to bask in awe at the result of countless man hours, resources, and people who were thrown together to make something for the glory of the USSR.
Valentin supposed it could be worse. At least something was made.
And this vanity setpiece is going to do absolutely no good if that alien attacks.
He wasn't even a Space Marine, just one of the Cosmonauts who was responsible for keeping the external systems maintained. Sure, he shot rifles occasionally with Fang and Liana, though that wasn't his job, thankfully. But he was Soviet, and thus obligated to attend events like this.
The soldiers and Cosmonauts stood in silence and stillness for a few minutes more before the guest of honor walked onto the elevated platform. Valentin blinked in surprise, grateful for the helmet that obscured his features. He'd expected the battalion officer, and the woman walking out was Evie Calumet – Commander of the Soviet Space Marines.
Something big was happening then.
The mood at the Lunar Base had been tense ever since the alien ship – which had been designated ENIGMA-1 – had appeared. No one had been sure if it was going to attack, observe them, or disappear as quickly as it had come. A full seventy-two hours had passed with full DEFCON 1 status before the alert had been reduced.
But it ultimately seemed like whatever the alien wanted, it wasn't war. Yet, at least. Instead it had stayed exclusively around Mars, bobbing around the planet and changing it through means no one could really articulate. Valentin wasn't completely in the loop when it came to the latest reports, but it had something to do with that aura the alien ship was exuding.
It had captured his fascination in a way nothing had for a long time. There was something so mysterious and ethereal about it that he was drawn to wanting to know more about it. Perhaps the novelty of knowing aliens existed, but oddly enough, the more he watched the alien and saw it work, the less and less he was afraid of it.
Over a month later, and it was still there. It definitely didn't seem to be hostile.
And as far as what the Triumvirate would do – well, that was something to be decided, last he heard. They'd made public their intention to 'reach this alien and communicate with it', which he'd interpreted as a manned mission to Mars, but the details were kept under tight wraps. He wondered if those details were being shared today.
"[At ease,]" Commander Calumet said, standing before the podium and grasping the sides of it. She was an older woman, just past her fifties and her sharply cut hair was greying, but she was nonetheless a stern and imposing figure, even from a distance. From what Valentin remembered, she was one of the actual architects of the Space Marines and largely responsible for growing them into what they were today.
An admirable woman. A shame she hadn't been in the running for General Secretary.
"[As observation continues on ENIGMA-1, we are beginning preparations for the next phase, the most important mission that has even been undertaken by our nation or the Space Marines,]" she began. "[The Triumvirate has authorized a manned mission to Mars to make contact with and assess ENGIMA-1 and determine what, if any, threat it poses to the Triumvirate.]"
So this did have to do with the mission. Interesting. "[This mission has been designated as Ares One,]" she continued. "[While the mission will be primarily to both establish contact and a functional outpost on Mars, there will be a sizable military component in the event of hostilities with the alien. It is unknown how ENGIMA-1 will respond to our direct contact, as it has thus far ignored remote attempts of engagement.]"
Valentin hoped that the military presence of the Space Marines wouldn't spook the alien. That would be their luck. 'We come in peace! Please ignore these weapons pointed at you.'
Hopefully someone took that into consideration.
"[There will be a number of Space Marines and Cosmonauts who will be selected for this intra-Triumvirate mission,]" she continued. "[You will be informed soon if you are selected for this operation. As it is carried out, the Lunar Base is expected to remain on standby until we have made contact with ENIGMA-1. Your work has not gone unnoticed here, and you will be recognized for your tireless dedication to the protection of the Soviet Union and in service of General Secretary Bray.]"
She turned and saluted the flag behind her, and everyone in the hanger followed suit as the Soviet anthem played over the loudspeakers. Valentin liked hearing the anthem, but he did wish there was one speech they could get through where they wouldn't play it. Once it was finished, she turned back and gave a one-word dismissal and the soldiers filed out.
A shorter speech than he expected, but the Commander was a busy woman, and when it came down to it, that was all they really needed to know.
He took off his helmet in the pressurized breezeway where a number of other soldiers and base personnel were lingering. There was some food set out, which typically followed events like this. Good to see some things didn't change. He cocked his head when he saw Liana Collens waiting by one of the food table, in full US Space Force armor minus the helmet. "I didn't expect to see you here," he said, though he certainly wasn't disappointed.
The pale-skinned and freckled woman flashed a smile as she ate one of the sandwiches. Liana was one of the most upbeat people he knew and very extroverted compared to his own reserved attitude. Their friendship hadn't really been expected, but he wasn't going to complain as they got along surprisingly well. Americans and Soviets didn't always see eye to eye, but they both had a few things in common; namely their somewhat casual patriotism and willingness to, at least privately, question their leaders.
Well, perhaps 'lapsed patriotism' was the wrong word. Both of them believed strongly in the ideals of their country – and also believed that the leadership often failed to live up to it.
Like putting a wealthy and corrupt businessman in charge of the Party. Real working-class hero, that Clovis Bray.
That appointment still annoyed him. Purely political. At least Americans got to choose between wealthy businessmen, political establishment drones, or American Intelligence-backed candidates. Not much of a choice, but it was better than having no choice at all and having to live with what the Party decided.
Liana lifted a hand with a card between to fingers. "Guess who just got assigned to the Ares One mission?"
"Really?" He gave a wide smile and pulled her into a hug, a bit awkward with the armor, but it worked. "Great news!"
She'd wanted to see the alien up close as much as he did, probably more. But he'd suspected she would be on whatever team the Americans sent along. She was a hardworking and smart woman, and her devoted focus and interest had probably gotten some attention. "Thanks," she said. "So, you coming along?"
"Don't know," he said as they separated. "Just got out of a speech by Commander Calumet. She just shared the mission and said people selected would be notified 'soon'."
"Sounds like this is coordinated," Liana nodded. "We got the President telecommunicating up here to emphasize the 'importance' of the mission and all that. Nice of her to say that I guess. I expect the Chinese and Indians are getting their own briefings."
"Probably," he wondered if Fang was also getting selected. Between the two of them, Fang had the better chance of getting in since his family was tied so heavily to the Communist Party. In which case it would depend if Fang wanted to go. His friend was a lot more wary of the alien than he was, but there was some curiosity, even if it was tempered. "How long before you found out?"
"Not long at all," she said with a shrug. "Someone came up to me as I was preparing to come over here." She cocked her head, looking behind him. "Don't look now, but there's a few people going around and giving out letters. Doesn't look like it'll be long for you either."
As they talked for a few minutes, he did see the uniformed Soviets going around the room, handling Space Marines and Cosmonauts small envelopes, saying a few words, and leaving. Looked like they really hadn't been wasting any time. He tried not to focus on them too much, and have a pleasant chat with his friend.
A deep voice interrupted.
"[Mr. Kozhukhov,]" he turned as a tall uniformed man stood beside him, looking expectant. "[I'm pleased to inform you of your selection for the Ares One mission. Instructions are in this packet,]" he handed Valentin a sealed white envelope and gave him a short salute. "[Your service is appreciated, comrade.]"
"[Thank you, sir,]" he said, returning the salute, then taking the envelope.
He looked back to a smiling Liana. "It looks like I'm going to be coming along."
"Glad to hear it," she said with an enthusiastic grin. "So, what do you think will happen?"
"I have no idea," he admitted with a shaking head. "But…I do have a good feeling about it."
ORION LAUNCH SITE | ALASKA | CONFEDERATION OF AMERICAN STATES
It was mild day outside by Alaskan standards, and exactly the kind of temperature Clovis liked. A comfortable coolness where the bite of the cold was dispersed by a bright sun overhead. Not too hot, and not too cold.
Perfect.
He could think of no better day to witness the launch of Ares One.
They were far away from the launch site of course, given the nature of how Orion engines worked: standing too close to a series of nuclear explosions was a good way to get smashed to a pulp. And he suspected some of the project managers didn't want to risk even a little bit of contamination on the high officials.
For all of the Triumvirates heavy lifter rockets with their reusable stages, Orion put them all to shame with its awesome power. Where heavy lifters struggled to put a few hundred tons into low earth orbit, Orion could lift thousands; and where conventional rockets were practically confined to Earth and the moon for manned travel, Orion thought nothing of taking off to other planets.
It had been a power bought in sweat, tears and blood, but thanks to the noble and willing sacrifices of the men and women, they could now travel to the stars. The men of vision at the time were truly admirable.
An era of expansion and glory he wished to return. It had been a true golden age for the Triumvirate.
Hundreds of media figures and companies from all countries were scattered along the expansive viewing platform, which was to say nothing of the thousands of military, state, and administrative officials who were also here to watch the historic takeoff. Massive television screens were set up throughout the venue which would follow the launch as far as possible where many were gathered around. Multiple languages could be heard as the media anchors updated their viewers and officials talked amongst themselves.
For a few hours, for the day, friend and enemy, rich and poor, all were watching and listening.
There was, of course, potential for terrorist activity, but they'd taken extreme precautions to prevent that from happening. There were thousands of soldiers standing guard, intelligence agents combing the crowds and observing any suspicious behavior, and everyone who had been invited was cleared with extensive background checks.
Of the six available launch sites, there were only two in use for Ares One. Those two "pads" were now prominently displayed on multiple large screens: two five kilometer ponds in the tundra flats, connected by extensions to a central canal that lead off into the distance, to where the assembly facilities were located.
The first ship – the true Ares One – reached two hundred meters into the sky, and the second was only just a bit smaller. Both looked like vaguely bullet-shaped superstructures mounted on a dozen massive, multi-segmented cylinders that sprouted from a thick disk that rested on the water's surface. Ares One proper held most of the personnel and soldiers who were being sent, and the other was primarily a supply ship that held the raw materials they would need to build a sustainable outpost on Mars.
Both were manned to an extent, though the second only had a skeleton crew. The bulk of personnel would be on the first ship. The crew of which had recently filed through; men and women who would soon be famous all over the world as the pioneers of a new era of the Triumvirate.
Clovis liked to imagine the scowling faces of the defiant nations as they watched the Triumvirate claim the mantle of interstellar colonization. Granted, there was the matter of the alien, but given that it had continued to do nothing but continue its terraforming, he was far less afraid of it than he'd been at first.
Still, don't get overconfident, Clovis.
This was only the first step. There was going to be at least two months of waiting and hoping the alien didn't go anywhere. He would be extremely annoyed if the alien finished up and went somewhere else before Ares One arrived. Unless it was completely ignorant, it had to know they existed and what they were trying to do.
Though there was the risk it would leave. Mars now was technically habitable, according to data, and the images showed a planet that was hardly recognizable from the previously dead red rock. There were regular rainstorms on the planet, oceans existed, and there was even some vegetation starting to grow.
Fascinating.
Even if the alien did leave, there was a contingency. Mars was still going to have an outpost established and the foundations of colonization and industrialization were to be laid. No matter what happened, this would not be a wasted trip. Still, the alien was the wild card they wanted to lock down sooner than later.
He took a deep, satisfied breath. "Magnificent, isn't it?" He asked the woman beside him.
Zexian Bray, his wife and current Manager of Bray Incorporated stood beside him proudly, one of each of their arms around the other as they observed the triumph of the Triumvirate together. It was unfortunate Ana, Elise, and Clovis Bray II weren't able to be here, but they were performing important work for the Soviet Union and Triumvirate.
He knew they would be watching where they could.
"Indeed," she said. "Already you've done so much. In two months!"
"Now, I can't take all the credit," he chided with some modesty. "Ironically, we have the alien to thank for that. And of course, my colleagues agreeing to once more live up to our legacy. But I'm pleased with what has been accomplished." He looked to the stars where the ship would soon be heading. "I expect it to be the start of something great."
"It will be," she said, hugging him a bit tighter. "You have a habit of causing that."
He smiled, and they watched as the ship was slowly boarded. Eventually, to the cheers of the crowd, the countdown timer started. It would take several more hours as the pilots ran through the pre-launch checks and the crew took their seats, but it was time that was filled with breathless wonder, speculation, and excitement.
He waved as he saw President Quinn and her husband walk over. The leaders hadn't crossed paths as much during the event, as they had their own interviews, briefings, and little elements to handle. So it was good to see her make some time. "General Secretary," Quinn greeted. "Mrs. Bray. A pleasure to see you again."
"It's been too long, Madam President," Zexian answered, shaking her hand. "And good to see you, Markus."
Markus Quinn, whose previous surname was Rey, inclined his head. He and Quinn had been in one of the longest marriages as far as world leaders went, nearly twenty years. He was a tall man, still fit from his days in the US Army where both of them had met, fallen in love, and eventually married. It truly was, as far as Clovis saw it, a relationship that could only happen in America due to how different both of them were.
Only in America could a wealthy naturalized stateside Asian woman marry a black middle-class immigrant to Latin America, both of them serve in the same military, and one eventually become president. It certainly added a layer of unpredictability to the political scene. Still, Markus was pleasant enough to talk to.
"The feeling is mutual," he answered Zexian. "I trust the business is doing well?"
"It certainly is," Zexian confirmed. "We expect steady growth over the next year – assuming no major disruptions that this alien could certainly bring."
The conversation turned to more idle and personal matters, from business, to traveling, to saying they needed to meet more, all of the usual talk exchanged between long-distance friends. And before they knew it, the timer was almost down.
"Now T-minus 30 seconds," a voice announced from the speakers. "Please put on your provided glasses at this time. A reminder that looking at the launch unprotected carries the risk of blindness."
Clovis, and many of the people around him had put on their glasses a few minutes ago. Little point to risk waiting until the last minute. Still, he made a final adjustment to them, ensuring they were acceptable and completely covered his vision.
"T-Minus 10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. Thrust Sequence Start. 3. 2. 1. Initiate."
The water underneath Ares 1 exploded. The spaceship rose into the air on a gale of water that reached 100 meters in height, the propulsion plate visibly flattening against the bulky cylinder springs before they pushed the plate back down.
For a moment, everybody held their breath, as the ground rumbled beneath their feet, from the man-made earthquake kilometers away.
A newborn sun ripped the water column apart from within. The flash extinguished everything else.
Ares One rose higher.
Flash.
And higher.
With one flash every second, the two Orions rose higher and higher into the alaskan sky, rose over the hillside between the launch sites and the observation station, two white bullets riding fireballs.
The first shockwave of the nuclear events smashed into the reinforced glass, an almighty bang! of two kilotones of nuclear force. Applause broke out. And so it begins, Clovis noted idly as he watched the burning light slowly fade into space. It wouldn't be long before he'd lose the ability to follow it with his eyes, and they'd have to rely on video footage which would follow it for as long as possible. There were also external cameras on the spacecraft which would broadcast back for as long as it could.
Still, this event was still a few more hours yet. Ares One would be well into space.
"That was reassuring," Quinn said. "I was afraid something was going to go wrong."
"Well, there's still time," he joked. "But it did go quite well."
"Now we wait," she said, clasping her hands behind her back as she watched the cleanup crews head to the launch pads. "I suspect we can be productive until Ares One makes it."
"Certainly," he said as all of them resumed conversation for the next few hours, idly following the track of the ships before the crowds started filing out, and they figured it was time to follow suit. Clovis gave his wife a quick kiss, and joined Quinn as both began walking towards the exits, both of them finished observing. The screens still displayed footage of the spacecraft, aft faces illuminated by the flashes of light, but there would come a point where that wasn't that interesting to watch.
The affairs of state needed to be attended to.
He was about to resume talking when he heard some gasps and people rushing to the screens. Both of them frowned, stopped walking, and turned back to look, just in time to see both spacecraft of Ares One be surrounded in the golden light that ENIGMA-1 emanated, and then vanish.
Clovis blinked, unsure he'd actually seen it.
A few seconds looking at the screen confirmed it. The cameras based on the ships themselves had also gone dark.
"Dyson Space Center has loss of signal with Ares One and Ares Two." The announcer's voice was ice-calm through the speaker. "We show no debris tracks and telemetry was normal."
The ships were gone. There wasn't anything there.
Both he and Quinn exchanged an incredulous look.
"You had to say something," Quinn muttered as she charged to the nearest NASA official. "Hey! Where did it go?"
"I…I don't know, Madam President," he stuttered, looking as he was anxiously waiting for an explanation from his headset. "We don't know where it is!"
"You better find that out," she hissed.
"Was that an attack?" Clovis wondered aloud. There were very few – actually no other sources that he could think of outside of the alien where that golden light could materialize out of nowhere.
Minutes passed. "NASA and NORAD confirm we had no anomalous flash events and there is no debris tracks, no plasma cloud. This was not a bad initiation."
Clovis felt something in his throat, his previous good cheer fading as the old fear he had felt when he'd first seen the images reappeared.
This couldn't be happening.
If ENIGMA could vanish two Orions away like that… what could it do to the battleships? What could it do to anything humanity launched? Missiles, projectiles, rockets, everything they had was now at risk of being rendered useless. Worse, there was nothing indicating that power stopped at tens of kilotons of spacecraft. Could it vanish ships, carriers? Cities?
The crowds whispered in muted shock. It hit Clovis then that this thing had presumably acted from Mars.
He took a deep, shuddering breath.
It was 20 minutes since they had lost contact.
The ring of another phone went under in the environmental noise. A lot of people were talking now, a low rumble of conversation with an undercurrent of panic.
The soldiers nearby fiddled their rifles uncomfortably as officials whispered to each other; waiting for something, anything to explain what was happening, and that everything was under control
"Say that again please?"
It was the tone of voice that made Clovis turn around. For the first time, he noticed the name tag on the right breast: Williams.
William's face was ashen-white with shock, and the man seemed about ready to faint.
"Are you sure that signal is genuine?"
He listened for a moment, then looked up, making eye contact with Clovis and an expectant Quinn who'd also turned.
"Houston has an authenticated signal from Ares One."
The first thing Clovis felt was relief. So it hadn't destroyed the Orions. The second was disbelief at the news they were at Mars. He was about to say impossible, before he remembered that he and multiple people had just seen kilotons of spacecraft vanish before their eyes without a trace.
So there was only one question on his mind. "Well? Out with it."
"It..." Williams took a breath. "It's incoming over Mars Commsat 1. They are in a stable orbit over Mars… as of 20 minutes ago."
"Explain," Clovis demanded, but he knew that there was likely not one forthcoming.
"I can't explain that, sir," the man said. "We… have no idea. But the validation keys are verified, I was assured."
"If I had to guess," Quinn said slowly, looking back into the sky. "That alien hasn't been ignoring us like we thought. It wants to meet us. And it wants to meet us now."
CREW ZONE | ARES ONE | SPACE
The crew zone was one of several dozen throughout Ares One. Stretching as far as he could see, as Isaiah Kane was seated somewhere in the middle, it simply had men and women strapped in rows of six, with a break for the ladder, and then another six. The vertical launch has meant they were lying on their backs for an uncomfortable amount of time, but while some of the less-experienced crew had complained, it wasn't that bad for him.
In fact, if that was all it had been, he would have been fine.
The seats were relatively cramped, everything was enclosed and there were no windows unfortunately, though through the center aisle there were screens which projected a split-screen view of the external cameras. It had been neat; Kane had thought he might watch what the launch looked like from the outside.
Then it had started launching.
And he realized just how big a mistake he had made.
He had done some difficult, dangerous, and strenuous things in his life. He'd survived off the land in Australia for years. He'd evaded the best and brightest of the Triumvirate. He'd caused millions of dollars in damage across the world. He'd become a wanted international fugitive.
But there was nothing, absolutely nothing that could have prepared him for a flight to space.
Just sit still, strap in, and there will be a bit of turbulence, and it'll be over quickly! Easy!
Wrong!
The shaking, screaming noise, and G-forces that made him feel completely paralyzed were by far the worst thing he had experienced in his entire life. There were supposedly shock absorbers built into the ship but he was certain that was a cruel joke because he felt every single jostle and every pound of force slam against his helpless body.
It was worse than getting shot a few times. At least the bullets had the courtesy to only hurt one part of your body. This was like being surrounded by a group of very angry Australians who proceeded to kick the absolute shit out of him. But Kane felt that even that analogy could not do any justice to the utter agony he was experiencing now.
He couldn't even throw up with the amount of G-forces pushing into him, so instead he clutched the restraining vest over his chest like a child clinging to his mother while tears ran down his face and sweat soaked his entire body. His eyes were closed and mouth moving in a silent prayer.
God, please make it stop!
God, in fact, did not make it stop.
If there was a deity up there, then all he seemed to be doing was making time go by slower.
The woman next to him said something to him, or so he thought; he was so completely out of it that he didn't know if he could trust his ears to hear. Worst of all though, was the knowledge that it would be hours before the spacecraft was deep enough in space to cut the engines.
Hours!
A choked laugh bubbled up, then was quickly suppressed by the forces pounding into him. Slowly, ever so slowly, he adjusted to the flight. It was still agony, but either his body had become numb to the pain and G-forces pressing into him, or his mind had blocked them out. It had turned from unbearable, to slightly tolerable, even if he still wanted to die.
How much time was left? An hour? Two hours? How much could the body reasonably take? It had to be getting close to the end.
"Crew of Ares One, this is the captain," the Captain of Ares One said, something Kane was only just able to make out. There was something off about the tone though, which he chalked up to still being 'out of it'. "We are commencing emergency thrust shutdown. Brace for negative G's."
Oh joy, how could it possibly be more discomforting than it was now.
"Something's not right," the woman from the Indian delegation pressed out. "We're still in the middle of the launch-"
The ship seemed to run straight into a wall. A car going from 100 to 0 instantly. Falling at terminal velocity and slamming into the ground. All of which to say that it was very, very painful and the perfect end to this ride to hell.
Maybe it was in the middle of the launch. But it was over.
"American, here," he looked over to the woman who held up something he recognized as a sick bag, which he quickly grabbed and vomited hard into. He continued on for longer than he liked to admit, until his stomach was well and truly empty. When he was finished, he took a deep breath, wiped his mouth with an attached cloth, and sealed the bag.
"Sorry," he breathed as an apology. "That was…"
"Hell?" She supplied.
"Yeah, hell," he breathed, as she rustled and then handed him a bottle of water. "How did you know?"
She smirked. "You said that word a lot during the flight."
He winced, his mind returning to normal. "Sorry about that."
"No issue," she waved a hand dismissively, and that was when he realized they were weightless, though still kept in their seats by the restraints. "Though I do think you owe me your name."
"Sure," he began. "It's-"
"Ares One, this is the Captain," the speakers interrupted. Kane scowled and took another swig from the water bottle, hoping there was a good explanation for what was going on. But he noted with interest that the odd tone was not something he'd imagined. "Please remain in your seats for the time being. We have experienced a major event. I would like to stress that we are not at risk of crashing at this time. We are working to establish contact with Earth and ENIGMA-1 as we speak. We will inform you of new developments as they arise."
Both he and the woman exchanged a confused look. Very little of what he'd said made sense; speaking as though they were already in a position to communicate with the alien, and with that whole bit about not crashing…
"Woah!" Someone shouted. "We're at Mars!"
All eyes turned to the screens, which sure enough, showed the red planet, along with ENGIMA-1 on hovering around it. The entire ship burst into confused chatter, before settling into a muted shock, with whispers and low volume of discussion. For his part, Kane just stared as they floated closer to the planet, likely to enter into an orbit.
He felt numb, though if that was due to the hellish ride, or the knowledge that they had completed a two-month trip in an instant. It had to be the alien which had brought them here. There could be no other explanation. If it had done so…then it was incomprehensibly powerful in ways he was finding it difficult to imagine.
Presumably, it had teleported both Ares One and Two, intact, to a location hundreds of millions of kilometers away. Which also meant that it was paying attention to Earth, and had the power to attack it at any time.
So, if it can move a ship weighing kilotons here, then couldn't it move any battleship, missile, or war platform somewhere else?
The shock gradually gave way to a growing giddiness as he realized that the alien had probably made everyone in the Triumvirate utterly terrified. This alien with one single action had shown it could render their entire ornate, bloated, and terrifying defense systems useless.
A smile grew on his face as his heartrate gradually slowed down. He didn't know how the alien had done what it did. He didn't know why. But he had a good feeling that the alien was keeping track of them. It wasn't being idle. It was watching, and that it hadn't blasted them out of the sky did mean it wanted to talk.
Now it was up to him and those who'd come along to find a way to convince it to help them.
For the first time, perhaps in a very long time, he saw a path to the fall of the Triumvirate. Not one of dozens of pieces falling into place, and coincidences happening, or plans which could go wrong in a hundred different ways, but a true, viable path. One where this alien turned it's almighty power against the tyrants.
Don't get ahead of yourself. It's willing to talk. It means it hasn't yet decided the Triumvirate is irredeemable.
The stakes were raised ever higher. If he failed to reach the alien, if the Triumvirate was somehow able to convince it to ally with them, then not only would the Triumvirate conquer the rest of the world and reign forever, it would be the death warrant for the Resistance and anyone who dared challenge them.
He closed his eyes and rested his head back.
"Are you alright?" The woman asked, looking at him with some concern.
"Yeah," he said, his voice surprisingly calm; not reflecting his riling emotions. "Just…a lot to take in."
"I hear you," she said, looking back to the screen and the image of the alien. "Looks like my job is going to start a lot faster than I thought."
"And what is that?"
"Linguistics," she angled a hand towards him. "Dr. Milya Mihaylova. Chief Linguist to the Triumvirate."
He took it, and gave his assigned name. "Jacob Milton. CIA."
"Nice to meet you, Jacob," she said. "It looks like we're going to have an interesting journey ahead of us."
TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER III | MARS
