Uncle Reese returned four hours later. During his uncle’s absence Craig absorbed more information from the alien laptop, learning a lot about the Uit. He knew their
tactics from which he gleaned a general idea of the mindset informing their
genocidal behavior. He knew that against strong enemies capable of resisting
them, the Uit were fiercely relentless. The Uit would not stop attacking an
enemy until they either achieved total victory, or were themselves destroyed.
Against weaker opponents, the Uit were no less driven to victory. Stone Age
cultures they happened upon had been as mercilessly scoured from existence as
advanced civilizations.
Craig had a difficult time suppressing the cold disquiet creeping through his body. Human enemies never invoked the clammy fear coating his gut. Maybe it was because
humans, in general, were not mass murderers.
Craig wondered if the Uit predilection for killing was hardwired in
their DNA. Was it cultural? Or perhaps something in the Uit’s experience
drove them down this horrific path, something frightening, unspeakably
malign. Was there a time in the distant
past when the Uit did not perceive a universe of adversaries to be slaughtered
when they looked up into their night sky? If the human race survived this
juggernaut from the stars, would it end up like the Uit? Interestingly, the
possibility of humans emulating the Uit was more frightening to Craig than the
prospect of annihilation at the latter’s hands.
“Just received word that we’re going to have to accelerate our timetable,” Uncle Reese declared upon entering the lab.
Dr. Ling and Dr. Hecht stopped what they were doing to take in the unsettling news.
Dr. Adu barely glanced Reese’s way before returning his focus to the incomprehensible glyphs populating his computer screen.
“The Uit are moving faster than previously estimated, according to our most forward tracking data. We’ve had to revise their ETA to five months, twenty one days.”
Dr. Hecht sighed deeply. “I cannot say that I am happy that we will be meeting the Uit much sooner than anticipated. On the other hand, I am in a hurry to get this
over with. I do not like having a Damocles Sword hovering over me.”
“Agreed. Craig, you’re going to lead the spotters. Get a team together, no more than a dozen or so operators, people you have the utmost confidence in. Your job will be to
observe the Uit observers. After their robot ships attack, the observers will
scan this planet for life signs from orbit and on the ground. Your spotters
will set up surveillance posts on each of this world’s four continental
landmasses. We will also have three low orbiting satellites monitoring the
Uit’s observation craft.”
“Won’t we be detected?” Craig asked.
“Fortunately, the Piron were very generous in giving us the template that has enabled us to develop the means to shield ourselves from Uit sensors.”
Craig turned to Dr. Adu, visibly surprised that the Nigerian scientist actually talks.
Adu’s fingers did a frenetic dance across his computer keyboard as he elaborated.
“My team and I have created a detection-proof composite metal with a metamaterial outer layer.” Adu looked up, meeting Craig’s gaze. “Do you know what a metamaterial is?”
Craig shook his head. “No, but I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.”
“Metamaterial is a light-bending solid that renders any object it covers invisible to the naked eye. The satellites in orbit have metamaterial hulls.”
“And you’re iron clad certain that the Uit will not see the satellites?” Craig asked with a concerned frown.
Adu’s expression sharpened. “We have followed the Piron’s specs to the tiniest detail. The same composite metal that the satellites are made from will
insulate the bunkers that you and your spotters will occupy. You will also be
wearing field gear woven from detection proof composite fiber. Neither Uit eyes
nor Uit machines will know you exist when they descend to sweep this planet for
life.”
Craig accepted Adu’s assurances, for now. He looked at Uncle Reese. “OK. So my team is to watch the Uit observers. What are we to watch for?”
“Nothing in particular,” Uncle Reese replied. “I imagine that their sweeps will be an extended, tedious affair.” The intelligence director raised a finger of
emphasis. “It is when the observers depart that you and your team should be
most vigilant. In your bunker you will have access to an electronic
astronomical chart that shows Earth’s exact position. When the Uit’s observer
ship departs, watch it closely. If the ship’s course puts it on a heading
toward our solar system, chances are, it will inadvertently stumble upon Earth.
If that happens, Earth’s satellite blanket will do it absolutely no good, and
all of our efforts here will have been for naught.”
“And if the Uit observer ship heads in that direction then what?”
“You will have to destroy it.”
Craig blinked once, twice. “Destroy it. With what?”
“Don’t worry, Craig. The means will be made available to you. The important thing is that you keep your eye on that chart.”
Craig grinned, pinching the bridge of his nose to sooth the sudden throb between his eyes. “You’re telling me not to worry, which always means I should be plenty
worried. You realize that you’re putting the fate of Earth…the entire goddamn
planet in my hands.”
Uncle Reese slid his hands into his pockets. “To put it succinctly, yes.”
“What will the robot ships do if we have to destroy the observer vessel? Will they stop dead in their tracks or something?”
“No. They will turn around and head back home. A robot fleet without observers cannot operate without direction. The Uit high command will assume that the observers
were killed in the course of the attack. Observer casualties are not uncommon.
The Uit will accept these observer losses as par for the course, send
replacement observers, and look elsewhere for signal-emitting planets.”
“According to the Piron data.” Craig was uncomfortable having an operation rely on a single source of intelligence.
Uncle Reese sensed his nephew’s wariness and understood. “If I could have given you more to go on, I would have. I wish there were more than just the information the Piron
has provided us. Perhaps, one day we’ll be able to build the means to gather
our own intelligence first hand and unfiltered.”
Craig relaxed, panning the lab. “Judging from what this project has achieved so far, I have no doubt about that. You people have built things that are supposed to
be on the drawing board. You’re costing tax payers a fortune and they don’t
even know it.”
“This isn’t all coming out of tax payers’ pockets. Multinationals have pooled a hearty share of finances and resources into this effort as well.” Uncle Reese
snickered at the disbelieving wrinkling of his nephew’s brow. “Don’t be so
surprised. Executives are humans, too. They don’t want to die in a blaze of an
alien-wrought bombardment anymore than the average joe. They don’t want to lose
their markets, either. That would be equally devastating.”
Craig readily agreed with the last sentence.
Five months went by. During that time, Craig read and reread the Piron’s data. He familiarized himself with the dazzling technology churned out by Project Illusion’s R&D section while assembling a
team of spotters.
The civilians in the project adopted a dim view of the daily target practice and drills Craig was putting his people through. They didn’t understand that his
soldiers needed constant activity to take their minds off the fact that they
were on barren world millions of light years from home. Craig’s eighteen
operatives were a mix of private contractors and detached duty Special Forces
personnel from five countries. He worked with them all at some point in his
shadowed history. He trusted them implicitly and they trusted him.
Craig also made sure that his spotters were very well armed. Again, the civilians were perplexed, but Uncle Reese didn’t bat an eye when he acceded to his nephew’s
request for a crateload of pressure detonators.
“Explosives? What ever do you need with explosives?” Dr. Hecht queried in gape-eyed amazement. “You’ll only be watching the Uit not blowing them up.”
“Well now, I’ve always felt it’s better to be over prepared than under prepared,” Craig explained with a wink. “You wouldn’t want me to enter into a situation with my
pants down, would you?”
Dabs of red darkened Dr. Hecht’s cheeks. She covered her mouth with a hand to shield an abashed smile. “No, no, I suppose not.”
Nineteen days later. One day remained on the countdown. One day before the Uit were scheduled to appear in the skies over the planet dubbed Sirius. Most of Project Illusion’s staffers were
sequestered within the observatory building, viewing a large overhead scanner.
They waited patiently, nervously, their collective scrutiny split between the
digital time index reading at the bottom of the screen and the screen itself.
Craig entered the observatory, wearing full combat gear. Detection-proof, metamaterial fiber was woven into his gear. His weapons had been specially
manufactured from the material, rendering him practically invisible to anyone
standing within a hundred yards of him. But that was only when the light
bending optics embedded in the metal and fiber of his gear were activated.
Though tempted, Craig did not want to alarm a crowd already restive with the
fear of an alien attack…even if pulling off an invisibility prank would have
distracted Craig from his own roiling fears.
Uncle Reese saw Craig and approached him, wearing a look of concern that was genuinely familial. “Craig. How do you feel?”
“Like I should never have gotten on that copter.” Craig cracked a smile.
Uncle Reese’s grave face lightened. He gave his nephew a clap on the shoulder. “We’ll be evacuating this base when the Uit appear within range of our farthest
probe.”
“You people can leave now,” Craig insisted. “My spotters are in place. We know how to operate the surveillance equipment in the bunkers and most importantly, I’m
prepared to use the surface-to-space missile launcher if I have to.”
Murmurs arose from the staff in reaction to the sudden appearances of blips on the scanner. Craig’s and Uncle Reese’s gazes
were drawn to the screen like metal shavings to magnets.
“I guess you’re right,” Uncle Reese acquiesced. “Now is as good a time as any to get the hell out.”
Twelve black blips representing twelve Uit warships inched across the scanner grid. That those ships were actually travelling at near light velocities was not at
all reflected in the snail like progression of the blips on the screen.
Craig’s insides grew bitingly cold. For months talk of the Uit had been academic. Now, contact with those far ranging killers was real, the promise of devastation heralding
their very imminent and frightful arrival, a very sure fulfillment.
Dr. Ling broke into Craig’s apocalyptic reverie, for which the latter was profoundly grateful. “Craig, once our staff evacuates, I’m going to have to cut the
wormhole link. We can’t chance the Uit detecting any emission that they can
trace back to Earth.”
Craig saw the agony of that decision flickering in Ling’s eyes. The physicist clearly was uncomfortable with the
idea of stranding anyone on this distant world bereft of an immediate escape
route back to home.
“I understand,” Craig assured the physicist with a nonchalant grin. “It has to be done.”
“You know how to use the long range communication equipment in the bunker,” Uncle Reese reminded his nephew. “We’ll be expecting a transmission from you after you’ve
successfully completed your mission. That will alert us to reestablish the
wormhole so we can extract you and your team.”
Craig nodded in understanding.
Dr. Hecht and Dr. Adu appeared on opposite sides of Ling. Dr. Adu carried his inseparable laptop in one hand, a bulging, care worn
brief case in the other. He set the case down and extended a hand to Craig. “My
work here is done.”
Craig clasped the scientist’s hand in a firm shake. He leaned forward slightly, waiting for Dr. Adu to add more to his presumed farewell.
The Nigerian stared at Craig long enough for a certain awkwardness to settle over the scene. Finally, Dr. Adu disengaged, scooped up his case and departed
without comment.
“Right,” Craig muttered.
“I will be the last staff person to leave this base,” said Dr. Hecht. “I am going to be remote operating the vehicles outside.”
The small craft Craig saw parked outside the base upon his first arrival on Sirius was a major part of the sprawling deception that was Project Illusion. Designed by a
team led by Dr. Hecht, the twenty five vehicles were to be launched at the
approaching Uit task force. Each vehicle was armed with air-to-air missiles
modified for space use. Dr. Hecht’s assignment was to remotely guide the
vehicles into space, setting them on an intercept course with the Uit ships.
From that point on, the vehicles’ programming would take over, keeping them on
a steady trajectory until they entered engagement range with the Uit. Upon
entering engagement range, the vehicles would launch missiles, intending to
inflict no damage whatsoever on the Uit ships.
The purpose of the attack was not to halt the Uit. It was not even to slow them down. The aim was to let the Uit think that they were being met with what little resistance
a doomed planet had to offer.
The evacuation siren screamed. The staff filed out of the observatory in quick strides, each face a cloud of worry. Decades of planning and preparation to
reach this point. Yet not a single scientist and engineer could be certain if
they had done enough to avert humanity’s extinction.
“I’m going to oversee the evacuation,” Uncle Reese told Craig.
The two men were locked in each other’s gazes. They didn’t speak, but the brief embrace they shared compensated for the silence. “Good luck,” said Uncle Reese.
Craig chuckled sardonically. “Luck? My luck bailed out months ago. I’m here.”
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