At Last; They’Re Here!

By Ed Wooddell

At Last; Theyre Here! is a human drama with a science fiction backdrop. It poses the question of how Earth would react to the knowledge that an alien space ship is heading toward our planet and ample time was available to prepare for its arrival.

Matt Anderson, a nave but brilliant astronomer, creates just such a scenario when he discovers a space ship on target for Earth. Almost immediately, political and military power-brokers the world over set into motion conflicting agendas. Some of the planned actions are based on serious scientific and national security concerns, but some are aimed at personal gain and ambition.

Matt is ill prepared for the turmoil that ensues, especially when political machinations begin to recreate the Cold War. But these actions must be countered while he and his supporters pursue peaceful contact with the ship. Almost beyond Matts ability to comprehend, rogue military and unscrupulous political leaders are bent on the ships destruction, especially as the aliens come dangerously close to Earth with still no contact established.

The all too fragile and corrupt human emotions poised against dogmatic scientists as they seek to resolve what may be the greatest event in human history lead to international confrontations, public panic and personal tragedies that reveal the best and worst in the human character.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Nov 30, 2009
• ISBN: 9781440190452

Ed Wooddell

Edward Wooddell was born in Pittsburgh, PA. in 1938. He holds degrees from the University of Pittsburgh, Auburn University and the University of Virginia. He is retired from the Federal Government and worked as an intelligence analyst and technical program manager. He taught Political Science at the college level. He lives in Melbourne, Florida with his wife Shirley. They have three grown sons. At last; they’re here! is his first novel.

Book preview

PROLOGUE: EIGHT YEARS AGO

Human beings are a restless sort. Movies and the pulp media have nurtured the idea of extraterrestrial visitors for the past several decades. Not to be dissuaded, when none materialized, UFO cults invented them. Nevertheless, contrary to mankind’s hopes, desires and fantasies, during all of recorded history, extended millennia beyond by archeology, there is no incontrovertible evidence that Earth has ever been visited by beings from another planet.

Most hard core scientists would be willing to fall on their swords defending this conclusion. Hopefully, such drastic measures will never be necessary. Perhaps the Cosmos itself will intervene and obviate the argument.

Although no one on Earth knew it, the intervention had already begun more than eight years ago. The first hint occurred when Dr Albert Bernhausen was scanning the night sky on his own heuristic adventure. This was a rare, almost unheard of occasion, when an instrument in the class of the Cantonal Observatory’s telescope was free for casual probe of the sky in the hands of a man of Bernhausen’s stature. Albert Bernhausen had been Director of Astronomy at Cantonal in Neuchatel, Switzerland, for twelve years, almost from the day the 96-inch reflector was acquired by the observatory. Not once during those twelve years did Bernhausen have the luxury to do what he was doing on this night. On this piercing, brilliantly clear night.

The resources of the world’s major observatories are usually committed to numerous long range projects, consisting of many months, even years, of concentration on one small spot in the universe. Scientists very meticulously examine measure and record the various enigmas of the universe such as the quest to understand quasars, pulsars, novas, black holes, etc. It is only through these comprehensive and painfully long research projects that mankind could ever hope to begin to understand the mind-boggling extent of the universe.

Cantonal, however, was between projects and the telescope was temporarily free.

It is often during these all-too-infrequent excursions, when a facility of Cantonal’s size and capability is available for supplemental observation, that new and unusual phenomena are discovered. Usually, the discovery of virgin astronomical activity, such as previously undetected comets, are left to the efforts of the thousands of amateur, and small institution professional, astronomers. In fact, it is often their very reason for being. Their instruments, however, are generally not powerful enough to detect subtle changes or minutely different activity. To discern this type of phenomena, powerful instruments must be used, the type found only in the large observatories.

Bernhausen approached the night’s activity with understandable excitement, even for a man 66 years old. You do not need to be an astronomer to feel the ageless bewilderment and the overwhelming vastness of the universe. One needs only to gaze into a quiet, clear, star-filled night sky to feel its enveloping and mesmeric grasp.

The observatory had recently completed a 35-month research survey of the visible effects Galaxy M 52 has on a neighboring galaxy. M 52 is 10 million light years from earth and is host to a violently energetic explosion that has been underway for about one and a half million years, which in cosmic terms is quite recent. A hot hydrogen gas (equal to about 5 million suns) is spewing from M 52’s nucleus. Most new cosmic discoveries are made by astrophysicists that work in the non-visible portions of the electromagnetic spectrum (radio waves, gamma rays and infrared). However, there is still an important portion of science reserved for optical astronomy. Bernhausen was as pure an optical astronomer as was anyone on Earth.

Cantonal would be between projects for several months before preparations for their next long-term project would be completed. Naturally, everyone on the staff wanted to take advantage of this free time for some of their personal pet projects. Bernhausen, being Director of the observatory, commanded priority use of the 96-inch telescope. On this particular night of 13 January, one of those characteristically crystal clear winter skies that literally pull you into its 3-dimensional panorama, Bernhausen would indulge himself with some freewheeling perusal of the night sky.

It is just as exciting and as much fun (and therapeutic) for a grizzled old world-class astronomer to leisurely gaze at the heavens as it is for a child in a back yard on a bright summer’s night. The big difference was that instead of a three hundred dollar Sears scope, Bernhausen had a one hundred and twenty million dollar precision instrument to oblige his fantasy.

Sitting in his control cockpit 65 feet above the floor of the observatory, Bernhausen began his mind- releasing scan in the upper region of the southern hemisphere, and slowly worked his way from upper right to lower left through the familiar aspects of the constellation Ophiuchus (the Serpent Bearer). His mind was drifting almost aimlessly, caught up in the mystical ambrosia that this glorious profession can generate, and was humming a Beethoven sonata several hours later as he hit the motor mechanism to slide his field of view another half degree to the south.

He was now in the part of Ophiuchus containing Barnard’s Star. Barnard’s Star, named after Edward Emerson Barnard who discovered it in 1916, always fascinated him. Of all the multi-billions of solar systems in the universe that statistically could possess planets, Barnard’s Star is one of the few, aside from our own, where we are fairly certain a planet (in fact a binary system of planets) exists. Peter von de Kamp deduced this conclusion from 13 years of measurements and analysis from 1956 through 1969. Today, probable new planets outside our solar system are being determined with only a few observations by the Hubble Space telescope.

As Bernhausen’s field of view reached the area where Barnard’s should be, he stopped the scan and peered with a little more concentration. Although quite close to our solar system (a little less than 6 light years from Earth, about 35 trillion miles), Barnard’s is not a particularly bright star (a magnitude of 9 ½) and it would be quite difficult for a novice to quickly find. However, his trained eye easily distinguished it among the dozens of other surrounding spots of light.

Bernhausen’s imagination always stirred when he looked at Barnard’s, for even though any number of the billions of stars visible in the night sky might possess planets, here he knew that at least one probably existed. That scenario alone could evoke imaginative fantasies, even for a man who was intrinsically observant and scrupulously logical. Therefore, he did not overreact when he thought he saw something odd.

He was too engrossed in his mind wandering activity to be alarmed by a subtle peculiarity. Without deliberation, he made an innocuous note on his record pad, misty cloud? along with its location. Aware that either sleep or the breaking of dawn would soon end this pleasurable luxury, he was not going to waste a minute of it. Besides, in addition to his lighthearted attitude this night, he was constantly mindful of the astronomer’s inclination to look for the unusual, to prematurely turn science fiction into science fact. It would take a lot to turn Bernhausen’s shoulder.

It was about a week later, while transcribing his notes of that playful night for his archival records, that the notation misty cloud? tilted his head as he read it. What he remembered seeing when he made the note was not all that unusual. Formations of new stars, thousands of light years distant, look very much like wisps of clouds. However, it was the distinction between those two innocuous words that caught his attention. Why did he use the term misty instead of the term he would more naturally use to describe galactic gaseswispy?

To the layman, the subtle difference between the words would seem trivial. To a meticulously disciplined scientist on the other hand, who made a career out of recording and measuring minute subtleties most of his professional life, this notation stood out like a blinking caution light at a railroad crossing.

What if it was not a common wisp of galactic gases many light years away, but rather something quite closeperhaps emanating from Barnard’s Star itself? Bernhausen decided to take a more concentrated look. A man possessed with scientific inquisition would not let such a questionable note go unanswered. In late January, he again pulled rank on his staff and took control of the Cantonal telescope.

After determining where his observation point would be, he entered the data and let the computer put him on target. He saw a scanning blur through the eyepiece as the computer positioned and focused the telescope. Slowly, his objective came into focus and, like a clash of muffled cymbals, there was the misty cloud. This was no longer a leisurely look at the night sky. Bernhausen’s disciplined mind, honed by 42 years of cosmic inquiry, automatically went into pure and total concentration.

Several hours later, with his heart thumping at his chest and beads of sweat dotting his brow, he was positive he was not looking at wispy clouds of galactic gases. Subconsciously, his mind had noted the difference that night two weeks ago, even though his conscious attention was drifting at a different level. He felt certain the cloud was not new star formations (clouds of hydrogen and dust), nor was it characteristic of the heated gas clouds of a supernova. He also quickly ruled out the bright clouds of globular clusters (massive groups of stars or small galaxies).

A frenzied need for an answer drove him from the telescope’s cockpit and into the vast reference room of the observatory. A quick check of the astronomical charts and maps, and a scan of various computer files, did not show anything where his cloud was located. Without much thought, Bernhausen had already dubbed it his cloud revealing the universal quest of astronomers to discover something new. His excitement elevated to the fever stage, he rushed back to the scope’s controls and studied the cloud for the rest of the night. By dawn, his record pad was crammed with notes and measurements of its relative size, shape and distance from prominent cosmic reference points.

He already had decided that regardless of the tooling up that was underway for the observatory’s next major project; it would be delayed long enough for several comprehensive observations and evaluations to determine if he had found something previously unobserved. Time was now critical. All astronomers knew that a heretofore-unreported astronomical phenomenon was most likely under simultaneous examination by several astronomers around the world. The first to feel confident enough to make a public announcement would derive prestige for himself and for his institution. On the other hand, if announced prematurely and proven wrong, he and his observatory would lose considerable credibility and respect.

The next day, his hair wildly disheveled in an Einsteinian coif and blurry eyed from lack of sleep, Bernhausen ran through his findings with his staff. He had no idea how old the misty cloud might be, if indeed it was relatively new.

Although he first saw it 10 days earlier, chances were it was probably there for several months. It was unlikely for it to have existed a year or more and gone unreported. He had a tremendous advantage; other potential observers were probably small local observatories or amateurs. It would take them months to accomplish what his facility could do in a few weeks. Freely scanning the sky, as he was doing ten days earlier, is indeed unusual for facilities of his size, like Palomar, Keck, etc.

He assigned part of his staff to research-related literature and publications, and to discreetly contact their colleagues around the world for evidence of the sighting. The rest went to work on scientific measurements of all types, including radio, UV, X-ray and IR, to tentatively identify what the cloud may be and its origin. Security was established that rivaled a military operation, and around-the-clock inquiry and investigation ensued for the next two weeks.

Scientific inquisitiveness, vanity and the enormous capabilities inherent within the Center, all sparked by Bernhausen’s energy and leadership, combined to achieve in a little more than a month what normally would take a year or more.

They could find no evidence of the cloud having ever been reported, even in remote scientific journals, either at the professional or amateur level. They estimated the size and age of the object, and provided their best scientific estimate of the source of the cloud. It was, they concluded, the result of some sort of major catastrophic eruption from the vicinity of Barnard’s Star. It probably occurred a fraction over six years ago since Barnard’s Star is precisely 5.97 light years from Earth. They further concluded that if a planet did indeed orbit the star, life on the planet, if any had existed, would have been destroyed.

The announcement was made public with a statement to the news services simultaneously with submission of a paper to the Journal of International Astronomy. Bernhausen’s Cloud generated an immediate flurry of interest. A panel of experts assigned by the International Astronomical Union conducted a comprehensive evaluation of Bernhausen’s data, as did other various elements of the scientific community. The final result of all investigations essentially confirmed Bernhausen’s data without much more detail or explanation. Bernhausen himself was denied pursuing his own discovery for he died within a year from a massive coronary.

Within a year of Bernhausen’s death, most astronomers had relegated the Bernhausen Cloud to that enormous category of unexplained cosmic phenomena that can command no more than periodic observations unless a consequential change altered the situation. That change was not too far off.

***

BOOK ONE

THEY ARE COMING

Contents

1

NIGHT VISITORS

2

A TEST?

3

THE SKY

4

REVELATION

5

THE PROJECT

6

DREAM TO REALITY

7

THE LIGHT BULB

8

THE COLD BODY

9

THE NEED TO KNOW

10

THE ADJURATION

11

THE SIGNALS

12

PROGNOSTICATION

13

FISH OR CUT BAIT

14

PARTNERSHIP

15

THE BATTLE LINES

16

THE PLAYERS

17

VEILED EAGLES

18

THE RUSSIANS

19

VLA

20

THE COMING SPECTACLE

21

The Battleground

22

EAGLES HAVE LANDED

23

REALITY

24

THE COALITION

25

CHOICES

26

DILEMMA

27

CHESS WITHOUT A QUEEN

28

PAWN TO KING FOUR

29

CHECKMATE

30

THREE BLIND MICE

31

A PAWN AGAIN

32

SCRAMBLE

33

RECHARGE THE BOARD

34

RACE FOR LIFE

35

THE PLEA

36

KING TO PAWN

37

THE CONSPIRATORS

38

A NEW GAME

39

DEEP THOUGHTS

40

ANABIOSIS

41

ONWARD ANABIOSIS

42

CONTACT, OR?

43

WE SEE IT

44

FEVER

45

THE COLD WAR REVISITED

46

THE DUMB ASS CONNECTION

47

DECISION TIME

48

OPS PLAN REBORN

49

QUEST TO WELCOME

50

MESMERIZED

51

CONTACT?

52

KNOCK ON THE DOOR

53

COSMIC ALARM

54

WELCOME

55

EXHALE

56

ANYONE HOME?

57

Hortin’s Revenge

1

NIGHT VISITORS

Matt moved in slow motion with hesitant steps through what looked like a dark, murky swamp. Although it was late at night, it was not black. There was an illuminating glow that brightened the mist that swirled through the landscape. As he walked, the glow intensified and he was drawn to ita siren-like call compelling him on. His face contorted in a hard frown as he desperately tried to figure out where he was. The situation totally confounded him.

Although immersed in confusion, he made steady progress. The ground felt soft and lubricated, as though covered with liquid soap. Movement was effortless. His footfalls were easy and light, like walking on an airport people mover conveyer belt. Soon, he thought he was actually floating. But his eyes darted back and forth, straining to work through the bewilderment.

Exploding through the glowing haze, the source of the light stung his eyes. Looming high overhead was a huge saucer shaped disk perched upon three slanted pedestals. The disk emitted the glow that drew him there; a misty green flood of bursting radiation. It looked like a giant, three- stemmed toadstool, glowing green.

My God, Matt exclaimed in a burst of realization, it’s a space ship!

As though his voice had triggered an alarm, a panel opened on the ship by retracting upward and into its curved surface. The movement, though silent, froze Matt; the swirling mist binding him like invisible chain mail. He couldn’t move a muscle, not even to close his gaping jaw. A staircase, not too unlike an escalator, but at least four times as wide, slid out of the opening and down to the ground a few feet from where Matt stood. He wanted to back up and run, but he was still frozen in place. It was the same type of paralysis that grips you in a nightmare when an intruder is approaching—you are conscious of impending doom, but unable to move.

The light coming from inside the opening was bright, a very intense white. It burned through the green radiation, creating a scene as eerie as any ever envisioned by the surrealist poet Andre Breton. Matt strained his eyes to see through it and into the ship. But the light was blinding; he had to shade his eyes and turn away.

Matt looked about him and thought, Where is everyone? Why am I alone?

Like a clash of cymbals, a resonating, booming voice responded to his thoughts, not with a shout, but with such a deep bass, almost infrasonic, all about Matt vibrated, You have been chosen.

Matt tried again to look into the opening for the source of the voice, but it was still too intense and he instinctively covered his eyes with his hands. Squinting under the palms of his hands, he spoke up at the brightness, What do you mean? What is this? Who are you?

The response was the low-pitched vibrating voice, except this time so much more intense it pounded against Matt’s temples, You have been chosen.

The intensity was unrelenting and Matt’s knees started to buckle. His strength was draining and he began to wobble like he was going to fall. The bedazzling light and the pulsating sounds were hammering Matt to the ground.

"You have been chosen." The sound and voice reverberated all around him. Matt bent his head, pressing his chin to his chest, and covered his ears. His eyes were narrow slits; tears of pain and frustration streamed out of them. The throb in his head was near unbearable as the voice continued.

As Matt stood there trembling, the white light lessened, and the green glow illuminating the ship expanded like rising water forming a fountain. The scene was surreal, but also suddenly quite pleasant, wondrously strange. Although his panic was subsiding, Matt continued to search all about him,

He exclaimed out loud, Where is everyone else? Why am I alone here?

Someone, or something, in the ship was reading his thoughts, for every time Matt questioned his plight, even silently to himself, the booming voice would immediately rumble in response, You have been chosen.

The light at the top of the staircase softened several more degrees. The air and mist became still. The hammering voice spoke yet again, but this time it demanded, Enter!

Matt didn’t think he had the strength to move, let alone climb the steep staircase. He was also petrified at the thought. However, with the second pounding order of Enter! he felt compelled to go.

Something seemed to be trying to hold him back, but the command, like the call from the Sirens, was driving him to move forward and to ascend the steps.

Matt wanted to cry out, but he was paralyzed and couldn’t open his mouth. Someone help me, he was trying to shout, but no sound emerged from his lips.

*

Matt’s entire body jerked with a vibrating spasm, and he bolted upright in bed. His head was soaked with perspiration and he was shaking. Sucking in a deep breath, he collapsed back into his damp pillow and stared blankly at the ceiling. He glanced to his left and was relieved to see Gloria sound asleep, her raven black hair spread out like woven silk on her white pillow.

Thank God she’s asleep, Matt thought.

This wasn’t the first time he had the dream. It was recurring, and coming too often.

Shaken and distressed, Matt silently slid out of bed and went into the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and leaned against the sink, propping himself up with quivering arms.

With effort he raised his head and he didn’t like what he saw staring back at him in the mirror. His skin was tight and colored a sickly gray. His boyish features were grotesquely strained out of shape. He shook his head and blinked hard trying to make the agonized reflection disappear. It didn’t. He had to admit to himself that he needed help.

This was hard to acknowledge. Matt was an intellectual heavy weight who took pride in solving complex problems. A research astronomer, he delighted in the intricacies of theoretical physics and mathematics. He had been certain he could handle what was troubling him. But he was wrong. His subconscious was telling him loud and clear with the recurring nightmare that he was wrong.

Nevertheless, he hesitated. He didn’t know whom to turn to, at least not yet. He needed a little more time.

Time is the bane of all scientists. They all thought time was the cure all.

***

2

A TEST?

For eons, mankind has watched and waited for visitors from outer space. We have reported, speculated, imagined and dreamed of alien encounters. From cave drawings to radio shows, from ancient religions to modern-day cults, from medieval literature to spectacular movies, all manner of aliens have been described, drawn and envisioned that haunted our psyche.

We imagined, we conjured, we fantasized, but they never came. Not a scintilla of hard data has ever been gathered that prove beyond a doubt that Earth has been visited by intelligent extraterrestrial beings. Until now. At least that was Matt Anderson’s conclusion. And Matt did not believe he was nuts, in spite of his bizarre, repeating dream.

For whatever reason, perhaps a test by some higher level of intelligence, or by the Supreme Being himself, Matt had been convinced that Earth will be visited from beyond our planet and soon. Even more mystifying, for some unexplainable reason, he had apparently been chosen to proctor the exam. He had no idea why.

Accompanying this belief was a persistent, unsettling anxiety. It crawled with slow deliberation into the pit of his stomach, tightening as it went until it seized him like a vise. It was an unusual sensation for him, and he was not good at handling mental anguish that he could not immediately control.

Matt was not a contentious person. In fact he is just the opposite; a placid, agreeable, seeker of resolution. Consequently it was quite strange for him to be in such a tumultuous clash, and he was fighting with the worst person on Earth with who he could be in conflicthimself. To add to the insult, it was also beginning to tear into his most cherished relationshipswith his wife and his colleagues.

It was three days since he last had the dream and his wife was glowering. Damn it Matt, just what is bothering you?

Matt gazed with a blank stare at the far kitchen wall as though he was looking right through it. Gloria’s voice shook him out of his reverie with a start, What? What do you mean honey?

Gloria’s dark, liquid eyes, which generally set off her exquisite beauty, were totally void of warmth as she bore down on Matt across the dinette table. Incredulity etched her face.

What do I mean? Are you trying to tell me nothing’s wrong? You’ve been lost in some kind of dark cloud for weeks. Ignoring me is one thing, but Lori just asked you to help her with her homework and you didn’t see or hear her. You just sat there, looking spaced out, like you’ve been doing every night lately. And she added with cutting sarcasm, At least on the nights you are home.

She pushed away from the table and dumped her dishes and utensils into the sink intentionally creating a loud clash.

Matt’s mouth fell open in startled reality. He was crushed; his face flushed crimson red as he stared at the back of his wife’s head. His relationship with Gloria had been so perfect it could have been used as a model for a Home Companion feature on the ideal marriage.

He walked over and put his hands on her shoulders. She softened and responded to his touch.

I’m sorry honey. I know I’ve been a loon lately. It’s just that .… He hesitated, searching for the right words. He couldn’t find them.

His grip tightened on Gloria’s shoulders in a massage-like squeeze, The new project that I started last summer has become quite a strain. It must be really getting to me. But I’m on the verge of working it out.

He hoped his words sounded sincere, because he knew he wasn’t anywhere near working it out.

Gloria turned and put her arms around Matt’s neck. Her demeanor softened considerably, but her look revealed concern, and a hint of fear could be read as her eyes moistened. It was her turn to grip Matt tightly on the shoulders. Fright was written on her face, and she held him at arms length.

I saw you in the middle of the night a few days ago splashing water on your face. You looked like you had just seen a ghost. What could be going on at work to cause all this? I mean, you’re a curator of astronomy, a teacher, for God’s sake, not a designer of atomic bombs.

Matt’s eyes blinked in blank response. He could use the nightmare as an excuse, but that would lead to the real reason for his anxiety, his growing fear of what he was beginning to believe. He wasn’t ready to explain, didn’t know how.

His silence was too conspicuous. Gloria was not used to seeing Matt struggling with control, at a loss for words. He had always been a rock of confidence and she never knew him to shy from a problem.

Is the university program in trouble?

No, nothing like that. In fact, the observatory and museum are thriving.

That was the wrong thing to say. If Matt’s professional life was going well, there could only be one other explanation for Gloria. Her hands slipped down to his elbows, scarcely touching him. Her voice cracked and was barely audible. Her head tilted, tears were forming, Is there someone else?

Matt was momentarily stunned. His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open. It never occurred to him that Gloria would think in that direction. He swiftly snatched Gloria into his arms and hugged her tightly. Oh my God, no! His right hand pressed her head to his chin. He felt her softness and smelled her scent that so often excited him into passion.

Honey, don’t even think it. No, never, never.

He pulled back so he could look in her eyes. They were welled in tears. I’m so sorry Gloria; I didn’t realize it was so bad. It’s this new research I’m working on. It’s been troubling me, more than I knew. I’ve let it get the best of me. But like I said, I’m working it out. I’ll explain it all to you soon.

He squeezed her tightly again and gave her a warm kiss. He could feel his stomach muscles relax. Stepping back, a spreading smile across his face revealed the boyish charm that had captivated her so long ago, and had been noticeably absent as of late.

Matt reached for his parka on a hook near the door to the garage. I’m looking at some new data tonight. Hopefully, I’ll be able to explain what’s going on in the morning.

He reached for the doorknob, turned back and, with a sheepish grin, said, Tell Lori, her father’s sorry for being such a shit lately. I’ll make it up to her this weekend.

The point about new data was not made up to placate Gloria. There was a new tape waiting for him at his lab. A tape he believed could confirm a developing theory so incredible that he was reluctant to discuss it even with himself. A belief had been growing within him over the past few months; but belief-to-reality both excited and terrified him, because it was nearly unimaginable.

*

It was cold; the weather report called for 10 below, which wasn’t unusual for Minneapolis in January, but all the same still cold. His body quivered with a rapid shiver as he backed out of the garage into the star-studded, crystalline night. His thoughts about the frigid weather were already waning however, as his heart raced in anticipation of what lay ahead.

***

3

THE SKY

Matt had many reasons to be very happy about his life. At only 36 years of age, he had achieved what many strive a lifetime for and never reach. He had that unique relationship with his wife rarely found these days, a lover, partner and best friend; a loving, healthy daughter; a thoroughly satisfying career (far from being just a job); and what he believed to be an interesting future, where things could only get better. The key to this positive and optimistic attitude was the sky. The sky commanded his focus, and had provided his intellectual and recreational passions since childhood.

Before putting the car in gear, Matt leaned forward and looked up. Like the three-dimensional effect produced by his planetarium, the sky hung before him, as though he could reach out and touch it. The apparent motion generated by the movement of his eyes as he scanned the sky, coupled with the sparkling nature of stars, always gave Matt the feeling that he was peering into a giant kaleidoscope. He was always fascinated by this view, just as a young child is continuously fascinated when looking into a toy kaleidoscope. He revered, and was not embarrassed by, his child-like fantasies. It was this quality that kept his mind open and objective as well as penetrating and inquisitive.

Matt’s thoughts wandered back to his childhood as he slid his car out of his driveway. His street was lined with five-foot mounds of snow that continuously grew larger as winter bore on. Canyon-like walls of snow carved by the plows, broken every twenty feet or so by driveways, appeared to Matt as guarding sentinels protecting his street, just as they did when he was a kid riding in his dad’s car. It was a soft, comforting scene that warmed him on these cold nights.

In spite of a powerful mind, or perhaps because of it, he was perpetually humbled and always amazed by the sky. The sky was, in fact, the one common link he had with every year of his life since he was ten years old, when his father gave him his first telescope. As he learned more and more about the sky and universe, from the same planetarium and observatory that he now directed, Matt was gripped by a fascination and curiosity that was to hold him for the rest of his life.

To the normal observer, Matt appeared to be an average, ordinary husband, father and scientist. At five feet eleven and 175 pounds, Matt was the description of average. He could, and did, wear medium size clothes right off the racks of any store of any mall. At middle age, he still had a soft boyish appearance with a squared jaw, blue eyes and dusty blond hair that declared his Swedish heritage. His style, mannerisms, demeanoreverything physical, all spoke average. But his intellect, integrity, and, to the dismay of many who would soon underestimate him, his fortitude was anything but average.

For the last six years since taking over as Director of Astronomical Research at the University of Minnesota, which included running the planetarium and observatory at the museum, Matthew Anderson happily plied his trade. It was not just happenstance that Matt chose astronomy for his career; he believed it was ordained, sometimes filling him with an aura of enchantment. That was the best word he could find to describe it all. And now it was beginning to haunt him.

With that thought and the strange foreboding that had been building within him over the past few months, Matt fought off a shiver cascading down his spine. He was approaching Interstate 35 West, which, in amusing contradiction, would take him south towards Minneapolis and the University. He accelerated through the on-ramp and onto the highway, which was almost devoid of traffic going toward the city.

Matt was born and raised in Minneapolis, and when the time came for college, his choice of the University of Minnesota was more of a natural act than a selection. He had won a major academic scholarship, but also had similar offers from numerous other universities. However, Matt was tied to the natural environment of Minnesota and the mid-west. The bold reality of its lakes, wildlife, foreststhe honesty and promise of it allwas in his blood, and shaped the soul of his character. These traits would place him on a collision course with professional and moral dilemmas in the drama that was soon to unfold.

He was not so structured to limit his graduate work to his native state however. Matt’s more than excellent undergraduate performance won him a series of graduate study fellowships. First at Cambridge in England, where he was privileged to study under Sir Vernon Armstrong, England’s Astronomer Royal at the Greenwich Observatory in Herstmonceux. While he did not know it then, nor even now, Matt’s lasting impressions of Armstrong would have a profound impact on his impending journey into the unknown.

Following Cambridge, Matt joined the staff of Dr. Samuel Horning at the Lowell Observatory at Flagstaff, Arizona for a two-year project on planetary mapping. While there, he obtained a Doctorate in Astronomy from the University of Arizona. Although Sam Horning applied all the persuasive skills in his arsenal to convince Matt to remain at Lowell, offering him everything but his own Directorship, Matt returned to his beloved Minnesota as Curator of Astronomy at the modest Minneapolis Museum of Natural History. He also joined the University’s professional research teaching staff.

Matt had met Gloria early in his senior year at Minnesota through, ironic as human relations often are, the girl he was dating at the time. Elaine was an assistant at the planetarium, as was Matt, and Gloria, her close friend, often came to the planetarium with her.

Although a Social Worker major, Gloria began to develop a genuine interest in the museum and specifically in astronomy. Gloria would confess later (but not to Elaine) that the latter interest was due more to a fascination with Matt than with astronomy.

Gloria was much more tied to the upper Midwest than was even Matt. She was part Dakota American Indian, via her maternal grandmother, and part Irish from her father’s immigrant farmer line. The Dakota Indian blood was obvious in her dark complexion, brilliant raven hair, and high cheekbones punctuated with wide, almost black, eyes. From the Irish side came soft feminine lips that seemed to be in a perpetual smile, and a pixie twinkle that radiated warm sparkles. Sensitive to exercise and health, her five foot, eight inch frame was stunning. She also understood Matt’s inner self better than anyone, perhaps better than Matt himself. That, plus her love of him would provide the ally and confidant he would soon need many times over.

Married four months after Matt’s return to Minnesota, they were a most interesting couple; he being the physical epitome of average and she resembling a Vogue model. A vivid testimony that deep, profound relationships are indeed cemented more with spiritual than with physical qualities.

Less than a year later, Matt formulated a proposal to upgrade the museum, along with the University’s research program. After another year of politicking, which to his amazment Matt found himself good at, the proposal was approved. Gloria had played a significant part in obtaining private contributions, together with Matt’s now-retired former mentor, Dr. Krep. Later that same year, ground was broken on the edge of the University’s campus in Mississippi Park for the greatly expanded museum, an upgraded planetarium and a new observatory. Matt was appointed both the Director of Research and the museum’s Curator of Astronomy.

An integral part of the project, in fact Matt’s only show stopping demand, was computer linkage to the WIYN observatory at Kitt Peak Arizona. Pronounced win, the observatory is owned and operated by a Consortium that consists of the University of Wisconsin, Indiana University, Yale University and the National Optical Astronomy Observatories (NOAO), thus the acronym WIYN.

NOAO manages the consortium under the guise of the Kitt Peak National Observatory. Primarily through Dr. Krep’s influence, Matt was able to cut a deal and electronically link to WIYN through Wisconsin University. This arrangement enabled Matt and his colleagues at Minnesota to conduct astronomical research using the innovative optical features of the WIYN system on a pay as you go basis. Regardless of the quality of a telescope, if located in or near a large city, light pollution precludes the conduct of advanced scientific research. That is why Matt needed the link to WIYN. Not to be able to do cutting-edge research would be the one factor that would have caused Matt to leave Minnesota.

Although the past twelve years were eventful and personally rewarding for Matt, he had grown somewhat dissatisfied. Promoting the new observatory had thrust Matt into the upper stratum of social life. Matt