Prologue

The sharp rap on the double doors disrupted Jonathon's reading. Glancing at his wife, he noted she was already awake. It was late and, like he so often did, he brought his work home with him. Actually, home was in the same building as his office, but it was a decent hike from the other wing. He placed his paperwork, an economic report not scheduled to be released for another two weeks, on the bed beside him. The knock on the door told him a lot about the disruption. If they were only informing him of tomorrow's appointments, they'd knock quietly. The fact they'd risk awakening the first lady told him something significant was up.

"Enter!"

The door opened and a meek woman entered. President Taylor observed the woman stop, taking a breath before standing taller and begin speaking.

"Excuse me, Mr. President. We knew you'd want this right away, unlike the last time when everyone sat on the report for days."

Sighing, Jonathan signaled her to hurry up. He rarely saw the young woman, and couldn't remember her name.

"We've received another signal from beyond our solar system." She didn't wait for him to respond before continuing. "As you know, after the last encounter, SETI was repurposed. They no longer search for distant extraterrestrial communications since they never detected the aliens who reached Earth twelve years ago. They now scan for signals from within our system."

"Yeah, I remember voting to revoke their charter and authorizing their changes. It now looks like it was a good call. So did we decipher the message?"

President Taylor's full name was Jonathon Phillip-José Taylor. The name had served him well, but it was also a distraction. His friends and family called him Jonathon—distinct from the more casual 'John' he insisted on in public—but the rest of the world knew him as President José Taylor. The name José, which helped catapult him to office, was one he'd always hated.

His mother wanted to honor her grandfather and insisted on naming their white Anglo-Saxon son José, but his father balked. When she insisted, they compromised by combining his two great-grandparent's names as his middle name. Since his father disapproved of the name so intensely, he'd avoided it his entire life—until entering politics. Then a single name substitution granted a stable white man from an influential family a claim of Mexican heritage, making him a cultural icon. He never liked the name, but understood it was unavoidable at this point. The fact the press mocked him by referring to him as "Presidente" bothered him even more.

"No, Sir. Even with as little as we understand of the language from before, this signal is completely different. It wasn't hidden and appeared clearly across a range of broadcast signals. It was also longer, but again, not one we understand."

"Is it a clear broadcast, directed at us, or are we simply receiving it second hand?" Jonathon realized the answer was key. It determined whether the returning aliens were interested in contacting the world's leaders or in reestablishing contact with those who'd ended the Presidency of Alan Atkinson, twelve-years ago.

"No, Sir. It appears to be a tightly focused beam directed at the Earth as a whole, rather than across the entire solar system. The Mars probe didn't pick it up.

Jonathon made a vague waving motion. "Although we've been waiting for this moment for the last twelve years, such an approach isn't surprising. They're not here to establish communications, they're here to set up the satellite they threatened would restrict us from accessing space. I doubt they're trying to contact us, instead they're probably contacting anyone they worked with before."

"That may be, Sir, but the signal is different. Not only is it more detailed and clearer, but the format and language structure is distinct."

"Again, it's not unexpected. The aliens are a multi-species culture, so it's not unusual they'd speak a variety of languages. Each species would have their own vocal range. The ship is probably commanded by a different species."

"That's a possibility, but we wanted to keep you appraised."

"Good, that's better than surprising me when they land like the last time" He scowled at her, even though she wasn't responsible for those actions from so long ago. "Have we identified where the ship is located?"

"No, Sir. We suspect that, like before, they're disguising their location, broadcasting from several transmitters, far from their actual location. However, this time they're more localized, so we know what region they're in. They're just this side of the Oort Cloud where the last ship was stationed, well beyond our ability to monitor."

"Again, they're aware of our limitations. Since we can't reach them without decades of preparation, they're unconcerned with our capacity to affect them. Without plans to land or interact with anyone, they have no need for caution."

"Peter Muznard, your Science Advisor, is on his way in. He'll examine all our information and prepare a report for you first thing in the morning. Is there anything the staff needs to do before then?"

"I don't think there's an... ," Jonathon sat up, tilting his head as something occurred to him. "On second thought, I want you to arrange a Security Council meeting early tomorrow. Contact everyone involved, but don't broadcast any details over the air. These ... beings ... can clearly intercept anything we transmit, and our encryptions are unlikely to impress them. I want only face-to-face communications concerning this information."

Chapter 1 »