Aurora Wolf

          

                       Returned Message

                                     by

                        Michael C. Keith

Something wicked this way comes  – Ray Bradbury

A sudden blip on the radar screen caught his attention.  Airman First Class Raul Cartone took a long sip of hot coffee he hoped would revive him as he neared the end of an all night watch.  According to the coordinates on the screen, the object—whatever it was–had just touched down in Groom Lake north of Nevada’s infamous Area 51.

Another one of their weird experiments Raul figured, as his watch commander entered the observation building located atop a ridge in the Mojave Desert.

“Good morning, sir.  We got an unknown in Groom, again.”

“Well, you know what to do, Airman,” replied Lieutenant Bromley, yawning as he headed for the pot of coffee.

It was standard procedure to report any anomalies or unexplained activity to the 99^th Air Base Wing at Nellis Air Force Base for their assessment.  Nellis would then contact Area 51 to determine whether aircraft should be sent to investigate the unknown object.  Usually they would be called off by the Air Force Flight Test Center, which was in command of the notorious facility.  And yet another report would be compiled, classified, and filed away.

“It’s likely just residue from a comet.  Lots of activity out here this week,” replied Lieutenant Bromley when contacted by Nellis.

“Roger that.  You’re cleared to check it out.  Area 51 has been notified. Let us know if you need an assist,” returned the voice at the other end.

When Bromley received a report from the chopper he dispatched to investigate the incident, he was nonplussed.

“Say again, Alpha Nine?”

“We’ve located what looks like part of a rocket’s payload at impact point.  And we can just make out the word “Voyager” on one side. What are your orders?  Do we retrieve, sir?” inquired the team leader.

“It says Voyager?” repeated Bromley looking bewildered as he stared at the radar screen.

“Voyager.  Yes sir.  It has the word Voyager painted on one panel.”

What the hell could it be, wondered Bromley?  The only Voyager he knew about was billions of miles out in space.

“How large is the object, Alpha Nine?”

“Well it’s in a couple pieces, sir.  There’s a cylinder shaped piece and another section about the size of a trunk.  Maybe the tube piece broke from it.  Should we bring it in?”

“No, Alpha Nine.  You know the procedure.  Mark the site and we’ll hand it over to the Spooks.”

“Roger that.”

“Spooks” was the term Bromley used for the USAF’s Special Phenomena Investigation Team, better known as SPIT, an acronym that especially pleased him.  Years ago he had thought about joining the group but it required more schooling and he’d had enough of the classroom and field training to last him a lifetime. Despite deciding not to pursue the assignment, he harbored a level of envy for SPIT that resulted in more than mild contempt.

“They’ll be SPIT all over the place within an hour,” quipped Bromley.  “Return to base, Alpha Nine.  Let the Spooks do their job.  They get the glory.”

                                                            * * * * * *

The Nellis SPIT team retrieved the curious debris, which was then sent to NASA’s Houston base.  Since that afternoon NASA had been urgently trying to communicate with its Voyager deep space probe but without success.  The report of its discovery in the Nevada desert seemed to coincide with the loss of the vessel’s signal.

“How could there possibly be any connection?  Voyager could not have returned to Earth from 10 billion miles away in, what, 12 hours?  It’s absurd,” observed Space Mission’s Director Sam Klein.  “You’re seriously thinking there may be some relationship with Voyager and that junk in the desert?” he asked Voyager Chief Scientist David Poussette.

“No, not really, but I think the description from SPIT sure matches certain elements of it.  Now, whatever that means, I have no idea,” answered Poussette.

“Well, let’s check it out.  It’s been put in Hanger 7,” said Klein.

He and Pousette made their way to where the Groom Lake objects had just been placed.  As they approached the retrieved items from a few feet away, they shot a look of disbelief at each other.

“Jesus,” blurted Klein.

“Yeah,” added Poussette.

Were the objects on the floor before them an illusion or fabulous reproductions made for a Spielberg movie?  They quickly realized the objects were no props.

“If these bits are really from Voyager, then the Golden Record is in that container,” observed Klein.

After having the large box checked for contaminates and radiation, he proceeded to open it.

“Holy shit!  It’s here,” said Klein lifting the Golden Record disk from the recesses of the case.

His eyes widened as he examined the copper cover of the analog disc that had been sent into space with sound and images representing the diversity of life on Earth.

“What the . . .?  Where are the etchings that were engraved on it?  The logarithms and instructions are gone. There’s just an image of the earth with a slash across it.  Shit, I think this is a hoax, somebody’s idea of a bad joke.  Freaking 51’s been at it again, I bet!” exclaimed Klein in frustration.  “Here, look at this goddamn thing,” he said handing the disk to Poussette.

“Let’s look at the record itself,” he replied lifting the cover to expose the gold colored platter within.  “It looks okay, like the real thing.  Let’s get it played.  If what was originally recorded on it is there, then we have what was launched over thirty years ago.”

“Yeah, and like that’s going to happen?” chided Klein, agreeing to check it but clearly annoyed by the whole thing.

                                                            * * * * * *

It took several hours for members of the Voyager team at NASA to locate the right equipment to playback the inscriptions on the Golden Record. It was instantly apparent that its contents had been altered.  In place of the first sound bite that had been recorded on the album was the voice of a woman conveying the number three in French.

“See,” exclaimed Klein, “It is a phony!”

“I don’t know,” replied Poussette, “”How could anyone make a copy of the disc and why would they?  It’s so similar to the original, too.”

“Not entirely.  The recording didn’t start this way, did it Gene?” commented Klein turning to Eugene Foster, one of the original members of Voyager’s pre-launch crew.

“Maybe not, but there were dozens of foreign voices stored on it each giving greetings, and if my records are straight, and I’m certain they are, the French communiqué was delivered by a woman.  One Susanne Dubay, in fact,” replied Foster examining a loose-leaf notebook.

“Seches” was the next vocable to come out of the speakers, followed by a pause then “yedi,” “dwa,” “sextus,” “neung,” and, “alef,” divided by more spaces.  An extended pause was then followed by “quattro,” “achttien,” and “yol.”  All were spoken by different voices—some men, some women.

“Pretty sure they’re more numbers,” commented Foster.  “Let me get them translated.”

“Do that, would you, Gene?” asked Klein.

Before he could say another word strange music poured forth from the speakers.

“That I know,” said Foster.  “It’s an Australian aborigine song called ‘Devil Bird,’ a hymn of foreboding, or some such thing, as I recall.  It was on the Golden Record.”

Some three hours passed before the words on the disk were fully translated.

“Here’s what we have, Sam,” reported Foster.  “Ten different dialects adding up to a series of numbers–3-6-7-2-6-1-1-4-18-10, all spoken by the original voices on the EP.  The languages now are the same as on the original disc–French, Latin, Polish, Turkish, Latin, Thai, Hebrew, Italian, Dutch, and Korean.”

“Meaning?” asked Klein.

“That we have to determine,” replied Foster.

“And you think this is the real thing?” inquired Poussette.

“Real . . . but altered,” replied Foster.

“Continue,” said Klein impatiently.

“All the material in these objects exactly matches that used in Voyager, things that could not have been manufactured or fabricated outside of NASA . . . at least, not in the aggregate.  Impossible.”

“So how has the Golden Record been reconfigured?” inquired Klein shaking his head.

“That’s the sixty-four dollar question,” answered Foster.  “Maybe we’ll know more when we’ve analyzed the numbers, if we can break their code.”

“Code?” asked Klein.

“It’s got to be some kind of cipher, an encryption of some sort.   Whoever or whatever edited all those different voices together to form a series of numbers must have a reason for doing it.”

                                                            * * * * * *

After three days, NASA’s experts, still unable to restore contact with Voyager, had come to the conclusion that the first seven numbers on the Golden Record represented celestial coordinates.

“What about the last five numbers . . . 41810?’ inquired Klein. 

“We’re not sure yet, but we have Hubble tracking the first set of numbers right now.  We should know shortly where they lead us, if anywhere,” reported Kyle Gleason, director of NASA’s Astrophysics Division.

“Yeah, if anywhere,” repeated Klein.

“I’ll let you know,” said Gleason, leaving Klein and Pousette to continue their speculations while they awaited more information.

It didn’t take long. 

“We’ve got something going on here,” reported Gleason.

“What’s that?” asked Klein noting Gleason’s solemn tone.

“A giant asteroid about the size of Ceres.  It’s huge and . . . and it appears to be on a direct collision course with us.”

“As big as Ceres?  You’re not serious?  And this is news to everyone at NASA and Hubble?  It’s gone undetected until now?” inquired Klein in disbelief.

“There was nothing at those coordinates the last time a scan was made 48 hours ago,” answered Gleason.

“So how can that be?” 

“We’re as amazed as you are, and now we have a huge problem on our hands.  We think we’ve determined what the last numbers are.”

“Okay, I’m listening,” snapped Klein.

“April 18, 2010,” announced Gleason.

“A date?”

“That’s what we think.  April 18, 2010—4-18-10,” replied Gleason.

A pause ensued before Klein responded.  “Okay, where are we going with this?”

“The computers calculate that at the asteroid’s current speed and trajectory it will hit Earth on that date,” answered Gleason.

“And you buy this?”

“Hard not to,” said Gleason removing photographs from a folder and handing them to Klein.  “There it is.  A big bad bullet coming our way.”

“Good Christ,” grumbled Klein as he examined the prints captured by the world’s strongest interplanetary telescope.  “So what’s on the Golden Record is a warning that we’re on the verge of annihilation?”

“It seems that way,” replied Gleason.

“The aborigine song,” uttered Pousette.

“What?” asked Klein.

“The ‘Devil Song.’  It came after the voices with the numbers.  It has to be a warning from something that knows Earth is in imminent danger.”

“And this is the best theory on the table?” chimed Klein with resignation in his voice.

“What else?” replied Gleason.

“So what the hell do we do now?”

“Blast it before it blasts us,” offered Pousette.

“And Deterrent One’s booster is ready?”

“It will be,” answered Pousette

“It has to be.  We only have one shot.  If it doesn’t do the job, we’re space particles,” proffered Klein looking hard at Pousette and Gleason.  “And how long before Deterrent Two is on the pad?

“In about 6 months at the earliest,” replied Gleason.

“Well, that’s not going to help save our ass is it?” growled Klein.

                                                            * * * * * *

Word of the approaching asteroid was kept from the public fearing universal panic, and on January 18, Deterrent One was launched with the express purpose of detonating the approaching planetoid to save the Earth from destruction.  While NASA tracked the trajectory of the rocket, an hour into the launch all monitors in the observation center went blank for several seconds.  When they came back on, Deterrent One was nowhere to be found.  Technicians attempted to ascertain why the rocket was no longer visible but could find no answer.

“Like that, it just disappeared?  No explosion or debris?  Just gone?” inquired Klein incredulously.

“Unfortunately, what isn’t gone is the asteroid,” added Gleason, looking at the monitors.

“So we’re screwed?  The whole human race is about to be blown to bits?”

“What’s this?” mumbled Gleason moving his face closer to the monitor.  “Magnify image, please.”

Klein, Pousette, and several other NASA officials directed their attention to the screens, which no longer displayed the approaching asteroid but now featured a pulsating rectangular structure.

“That’s no asteroid.  That’s for damn sure, but it’s moving in our direction at the same speed,” observed Gleason.  “What the hell is it?”

“Whatever it is, we’re at its mercy,” responded Poussette.

As April 18, 2010 neared, NASA realized it had been duped into launching its only weapon of salvation at a false target.  The motive behind this ruse was clearly malevolent. Klein and his colleagues concluded they had been deliberately tricked into launching Deterrent One at the faux asteroid to prevent the nuclear missile from being targeted at the strange UFO that now was closing in fast on Earth.

                                                            * * * * * *

For days after the alien spaceship entered the Earth’s atmosphere it hovered over Washington, D.C. without making contact or taking any action.  The President and his cabinet were evacuated to Camp David and no attempts were made to fire on the vast spacecraft for fear it would retaliate by devastating the capitol.  The longer the aliens remained inert and mute, the more ominous it seemed and the more humans feared what was to come. 

However, during the week that it occupied the nation’s airspace, people around the world began to notice extraordinary changes.  Air pollution levels fell dramatically.  Skies cleared and rivers ran clean.  And all cancers went into remission, along with a host of other devastating afflictions.  Those that could not walk before could now dance.  Those that had moaned from horrible pain could now laugh and sing.  By the time the alien vessel departed, hardier strains of food crops were coming up in places that were never able to grow food before and all weapons, and the hostilities that inspired their creation, were nowhere in evidence.

As the UFO streamed skyward, it was obvious to all that benevolent forces did exist in the heavens. In fact, some thought the space visitor was God’s angels putting his creation back in order. Klein and his cronies were reluctant to subscribe to that concept.

                                                            _________

Michael C. Keith has written numerous books, articles, and stories.  He teaches communication at Boston College.