Meet The Unimaginables: Chronicles of Mere Earthling, #1

By Paul Slutsky

The secret rulers of this world preparing for a war with aliens. It only remains to remove an obscure man from the path... The problem is, he is unrivaled...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Slutsky
• Release date: Jul 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9780986115035

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblances to real people or incidents are purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-0-9861150-3-5

Copyright 2016 by Paul Slutsky

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written consent of the author.

CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

AWAITING THE DOOMSDAY

MEET THE UNIMAGINABLES

CONNECT WITH AUTHOR

AWAITING THE DOOMSDAY

––––––––

CHAPTER ONE

Alan Norton, an astrophysicist at Allegheny Observatory of the University of Pittsburgh, froze in his desk chair and stared blankly at the monitor. A cup of hot coffee halted in his hand halfway up the table, where Alan had just cleared a place for the saucer between the annual report and the latest spectrograms of Lagoon Nebula star cluster. He continued to stare at the screen’s panoramic view, unable to accept the reality of what he saw. In the picture, where the summery sun was just rising in sparkles of morning dew, a second sun was quiescently settled in the zenith.

That can’t be right, he thought as the coffee steamed in his hand, forgotten. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand, he closed his eyes, willing the image to normalize. When he opened them back again, his hopes faltered. The two suns stared back at him from the sky in tandem.

Slowly, he placed the saucer on his desk, giving his coffee a glance. For about three seconds, he entertained the idea that it might have been hallucinating, but then he dismissed the notion entirely. Whatever this was, a visual glitch of some kind, Alan knew he was in full control of his faculties.

Leaning forward with his hands on the edge of the table, he brought his face very close to the screen. The picture remained placid in front of his gaze. Frustrated, he straightened and rubbed the back of his neck. Alan had never been this lost before, and as he stared, surprisingly, the first thought that came into his head was completely benign.

Why me? He thought, wearily. Why, why should I be the one dealing with this nightmare? This was supposed to be my one day off. I only came here because Paul asked me to cover for him. He was getting engaged, and I thought ‘why not?’ He groaned. This is what I get for trying to be good to someone!

Alan sighed, as his brain spurred in with a million explanations. He was desperate to find an answer; he needed to find something, anything that would simplify what he was seeing.

Unfortunately nothing came to his mind, and he could feel himself falling into the complicated whirlpool of events that this picture entailed. He never thought of himself as a coward, but this was just so beyond anything he’d ever imagined having to deal with.

Who else could have noticed this? He wondered; hoping to quietly pass on the buck and pretend as if he hadn’t seen a thing. Regardless of whether he did, Alan’s professional experience told him that this absolutely illogical picture would soon cease from being a matter of scientific curiosity and plunge into chaos, the one inflicting changes into the world.

He blew out a deep breath, a sudden calm washing over him.  As tempting as it sounded, he couldn’t just stick his head in the sand. So Alan braced himself, and decided to work through the possibilities as professionally as he could.

One step at a time, he told himself. Let’s just figure out the cause. At the end of the day, you know you have the skills - you’re one of the few, Alan. You know that too, so just examine whatever this thing is and give humanity at least some kind of an explanation.

The task, at first glance, seemed simple. If you couldn’t define what it was, then you could just define what it wasn’t. Alan smiled; this was something he could handle.

Breaking it down logically, there was one thing Alan was certain of: there wasn’t an actual second sun. For one thing, there was the sudden appearance – suns could never simply ignite themselves wherever they pleased. And then, for another, if the rogue object actually was a sun then the entire planet might have shattered, he thought, or, being unable to resist the combating gravitation of two luminaries, it would have descended right down the orbit.

However, given the fact that he was still alive and the ground underneath his feet remained intact, Alan quietly threw that theory out -  grateful, that at least, he wasn’t dying and that the end of the world was still far away. More confident than before, he started another hypothesis, assuming that this second sun was a fake.

Remembering his, now cooled, coffee, Alan took a sip and pondered over the glowing object that defiantly glared back at him. A wave of optimism had followed him, in the wake of his current chain of reasoning, but the fact remained; Alan still did not know the answers to his main question. What was the nature and purpose of this orb, that hung over the entire North American continent, with the candid appearance of a sun?

It was without a doubt that it sat, unmoving, in the sky. The real sun continued its daily plight towards the noon, but the second light stayed, in one spot, as if it were a satellite.

Satellite, Alan thought, startled. It behaves like a satellite. How could have I not seen this?

He now felt that habitual excitement that a researcher felt, when he knew that his object of interest led to an unusual problem. Apparently, this feeling was highly intensified when the course of all future events depended on their immediate solution. He knew this sensation and like a hunter chasing his prey at full speed, Alan was entitled to only one accurate shot, one solid hypothesis which would strike at the heart of the posed question.

Alan began to pace back and forth, his head swiveling to the screen, as he thought.

Let’s suppose that a large asteroid accidentally hits the Earth's gravity field and becomes the satellite of the planet, Alan paused, parsing the problem, with the pedantry common to a scientist. But... but if that were the case, then why would it glow? How close to us, his eyes wandered back to the screen, and how large must it be to look just as vast as the sun?

He stopped, searching his desk for something to work his calculations on and grabbed on whatever piece of paper he could find. Alan flipped it to its blank side, and began writing out the mathematical equations.

He coped up pretty quickly with the size calculation, assuming that the asteroid must be somewhere in close orbit – close but not as close to touch the planet's atmosphere. He whistled, impressed, when the calculated diameter appeared to be slightly more than six miles.

Shrugging to himself, Alan decided to take this figure as a working hypothesis, because if he could be in this situation, ultimately anything could be possible.

That was the easy part. For him, the real complication would be finding out a reasonable hypothesis about the bright light coming in from this newfound satellite. According to the laws of modern science, natural asteroids did not burn or shine. The most accurate answer about the causes of the glow could then only be given by a space expedition to the object, where he’d need to get samples from the surface.

Alan did not have the slightest doubt that this expedition would be organized as soon as possible. With the promise of extensive scientific knowledge and the level of danger to everyone being excruciatingly high – one that, falling onto the surface of the Earth, promised the effect of the explosions of several hundred nuclear bombs at once, he knew that it was a mandatory call.

However, Alan did not have time to wait for the results of the future research expedition. The causes of the glow demanded some reasonable explanation today, now, and he needed to find at least some clues for the solution.

Having nothing but the picture at his disposal, he didn’t know what else he could do to piece this puzzle together. He sighed discontentedly, feeling resigned. This is impossible, he thought, falling into despair. How am I supposed to find out a thing about the glow with nothing!

Never one of those to give in to a challenge however, he drew in his breath. He could always make his own way. Steeling himself, Alan decided to change tactics.

If I cannot find out where the glow is coming from... then perhaps, I could, at least find out... His mind buzzed in with possibilities, and then just one of them clicked. He sprang to his feet, I can find out what this light is made of!

Spectrometer, he mumbled, his blood filled in with adrenaline. I need a spectrometer right now.

Grasping the paper strewn with his calculations, Alan jumped out of his office. He sprinted down the empty hallways and offices, the sound of his feet pounding against the carpeted floor and echoing along the thin walls. He pushed through one of the large metal doors and descended down the concrete stairwell. Before the door could click back to its place, Alan was already at the last step and rushing over to the building’s emergency exit. He knew that he might get into trouble for this later, but he didn’t care. Right now, getting a reading was all that he cared about, and this was the quickest way to get to the thirty inch telescope tower and get it done with.

At thirty-two years old, Alan was not amused to find himself panting, as he crossed the lawn, and ran towards the tower. There were a few weekend employees inside the observatory, each stepping aside, puzzled, as he made his way down to the telescope room. As soon as he got there, he began to fiddle with the dials of the control equipment with fast rehearsed movements. The dome tower opened much too slowly for his tastes, and he drummed his fingers impatiently against the control panel. Once it did however, he immediately adjusted the device, and aimed it directly at the disk that still shone in the sky. Checking the connection to the telescope spectrometer, he turned on the recorder to output the results to a computer. It took him a few minutes, but he could have sworn they felt more like hours. He had to wait for the processed data to appear on the screen. Alan pulled up a chair, the wheels rolled loudly against the quietness of the room, and sat at the computer desk. His crumpled notes were still in his hands, and he smoothed them against the desk as he shuffled to a fresh, blank page.

The spectrometer analyzed the light, and Alan, anxious as he was, couldn’t help bouncing his leg up and down; a silly nervous tick, he’d grown since little. Finally, the charts with the results of the spectral analysis appeared on the monitor and Alan sprang into his work. He was a specialist in the spectral analysis of the stars, even those that were thousands of light years away. Decoding spectrograms of objects located at a distance of some three hundred miles? For Alan, that was a piece of cake.

When he was all done, Alan did not casually toss his pencil aside as per usual; instead he gently placed it down next to his calculations and stared at the paper for a long time. This spectral result had no scientific explanations.

A part of Alan felt deflated. Deep inside his heart, he’d always waited for something like this to happen, but he’d always hoped that even in such circumstances, he’d be able to find an answer for everything. Those dreams of his were shattering, because the paper in front of him carried a result that defied all laws of physics, and everything he’d learned and known.

The results stated that this disk emitted a visible spectrum, one that had all frequencies; and as if it weren’t unusual enough, there was something else to cross this record.

These spectral lines, commonly, have a presence and intensity through which scientists determine the composition of any normal light source. The problem was that these measurements said that the intensities of the spectral lines were absolutely identical.

More like absolutely impossible, Alan thought burying his head in his hands. This just didn’t happen in the natural world. The odds against something like this even occurring was... probably around the same odds of having a second sun.

Sitting back in the chair, he took in another deep breath. He must’ve done that a lot in the last few hours. He wasn’t sure what to do with the information that he’d been presented with. All substances consisted of multiple components, and these components and their proportions, identified the substance. If someone changed in the proportions, they would be able to modify the properties of the substance. This is how it worked, and this is how it’s always been.

There have been no compounds known to mankind that had identical proportions of component parts. Scientifically speaking, it shouldn’t be possible. Alan sat up straight, as a realization dawned in on him.

If the object is still hanging over the Earth, then its orbit must have been constantly changing.

Alan closed his eyes, his brain forcing him to think about the potential theory that he had been hoping to avoid. It felt ridiculous. He decided that he needed to say the words out loud; or else he’d never be able to accept the conclusion he’d brought himself into. The inexorable logic of his latest developments only had one answer, and then in the silence of the room, Alan rose from his chair and said them out loud.

We’re dealing with an artificial light of an extraterrestrial origin.

His words echoed under the dome of the telescope, and Alan felt a weird kind of relief, a sense of freedom from his responsibility. He had worked to justify the conclusion to himself. He had poked the laws of science, and posed an answer, despite the complications of the situation. Alan had done enough, he had played his part, and now all he could do was pass on the problem to the right people.

Alan glanced at the time from the bottom corner of the computer screen and was surprised to see that it had barely been two hours; he felt tired to his bones. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cell phone and still numb from the reality of it all, he stared at the dial pad in his hands.

Willing himself to get this done and over with, he began thumbing the numbers. He dialed his chief, wearily thinking about him and his reaction, as the dial tone rang in his ears.

They had a well established relationship. Jerry Osborn, Deputy Director, never intervened in the details of his research; except when he’d had to choose research topics or give in a turnaround time. Jerry always kept that under strict control, but either way, Alan was quite happy with this approach. It was somewhat intensive, but critical to the growth of scientific careers. And needless to say, he was in love with every tiny particle of his work.

It might have been the shock, but Alan didn’t notice the dial tone switching from its ring to the momentary silence. It was only when Jerry’s harsh and raspy voice greeted him that he got back to his senses and began to report, trying to bring in the conclusion as smoothly as he could.

Jerry, he said and got quiet for a moment, hoping to make this short and well believable. Two hours ago, I found a luminous disk on the horizon. My calculation states that object has a diameter of about six miles. It keeps a synchronous orbit and is approximately three hundred miles away from the planet's surface... I've also taken a spectral analysis, and Jerry, the results show that the light from the disk is from an artificial origin. He paused, waiting for it to sink in. He knew his boss had a flat disposition, but when he didn’t get a response - no gasp, no nothing; Alan was surprised, Do you get what I’m saying, sir? It is not possible for Earth to have such a source of light! Look outside your window, we have guests from outer space.

I can see the disk Alan, replied Jerry, after a short pause. His voice was unsurprisingly flat and emotionless.  However, Alan, who had known him for ages, did notice that Jerry was speaking much slower than usual; as if his mind was being bombarded with active thoughts. My wife was just commenting on it, and for the first time in my life Alan, I had no explanations.

Only at the end of this sentence did Alan recognize the notes of concern in his boss’ voice. Jerry was a good scientist, but he had taken on the role of an administrative position and had freed himself from the practice of scientific work. He had plunged down into the labyrinths of management; working and skillfully catching the dividends from almost any situation, while herding the scientists beneath him. Jerry prudently accelerated the projects he found favorable and ruthlessly discarded the ones he thought were superfluous.

This time, however, Alan had a feeling that Jerry did not want to make any final decisions.

I need some kind of proof, Alan. You think it’s an artificial light source hanging above the Earth? There must be a reason why you think it can’t be natural? Jerry paused in hopes that perhaps stalling for time would change the answer. What's in that spectrogram?

Jerry's question was essentially rhetorical. He knew Alan could not make a mistake in such a simple analysis, but then, he wanted - no, he needed - to hear the exact wordings of the scientific aspect of the problem. He needed a solid base for the transfer of the case to the authorities, and for that there couldn’t be any doubts.

Alan’s throat felt parched. He licked his lips, feeling the same panic, as he did when the result came out.

All the spectral lines have the exact same intensity.

The line went silent. For Jerry, that was enough. He had accepted the results more readily than Alan had, and Alan was amazed by that, but perhaps that had more to do with the degree of separation he had from the data.

It could no longer be delayed. This problem would soon be a global military-political situation and they had short time, so Jerry Osborn briefly paused and then clearly instructed him.

Alan, I need you to immediately send in the electronic copy of the spectrogram to me and to the Director of the Department. Then go back to the main building. I'll call the guard room, they will be expecting you. They will give you two keys; take them. One’s for the director's office, the other one is for the safe. Open the safe and you’ll find a built-in phone, Alan. This is a government line that will connect you to the White House Science Council. Tell them everything you know about the disk. They have a direct access to the President and the Secretary of Defense. You need to go and get this done Alan.

Alan would admit that in a matter of two hours he had seem many impossible things, but he had still not expected to hear such a turn of affairs. Even with how complicated and unique the situation was, he was counting on reporting the results of the measurements and then saying goodbye to the whole episode. He had no other reason to be involved, or so he had thought.

Jerry, I can't, Alan stated, making sure to add in his exasperation. You know I’m not much of a talker, and I don’t know anyone there. It’s you they need, not me.

Alan, of course, hoped that Jerry would accept his words as a reasonable enough argument and would come in to the observatory; especially considering how he lived nearby.

However, Jerry’s reaction couldn’t have been more different.

Don’t be silly, Alan. His voice had suddenly lost its usual huskiness. It sounded loud and clear, imprinting the non-objectable order in Alan's head. We don’t have time for political overtures. We don’t even know what’s going to happen in the next few minutes, let alone in the time it would take to get someone else down there. You need to get the information to the Science Council immediately. Take care of business, and report back.

The line disconnected and Alan closed his eyes, frustrated. He felt as if he’d just been thrown off a cliff, with a stingy rope, that might break off any moment. Having no choice in the matter, and more or less being trapped between the devil and the sea, Alan went through the conversation and set out to work. With a quick click, he sent the copy of the spectrogram to his superiors and then, sending in a little prayer, he turned towards the door and headed for the guard room.

Taking in measured steps, Alan decided to walk with speed and not sprint along the paths anymore. He could feel his cheeks burning up at the memory. Wanting to get a sense of escape, Alan took in the long route; avoiding all the emergency doors this time. It was a good thing that the security office was at the side of the building, it made Alan feel a little less guilty for wasting the time they didn’t had.

The breeze was soft and the afternoon air was warm all around him, it had a tinge of fresh flowery smell; and Alan could almost imagine himself having a pleasant normal walk. He could pretend that things were normal, and there were no illuminated ominous disk hanging over his head...

That definitely did the trick and brought him back to reality. He pushed his way back into the front lobby; the soft cloak of the air being replaced by the air conditioning system. His shoes clicked in softly with the tile as he walked past the front secretary, and knocked on the door to the guard room.

A young man in a uniform opened the door and gave him the two keys he’d been told about.

This one’s for the office, he said, holding two very similar keys in each of his hand, and this one is for the safe.

Alan nodded diligently, as the guard handed him the cards.

Return them as soon as you’re done. He requested.

If Alan could, he would have just returned them back that very instant, and make a beeline for his way home, but he couldn’t because he knew he had work to do. The sooner he did it, the sooner he’d be free.

Alan walked down further ahead to the Director’s office. Approaching the familiar yet intimidating premises for the first time, he went in ahead without knocking. He’d been taken to the authorities many times before, but it had always been with his boss and never for something quite this big.

And he’s never thrown me to the wolves by myself, he thought as he walked towards the back wall. Behind the desk, was a built in safe. Swiping the card into the slot above the keypad, Alan waited for the soft clunk of the lock to disengage. Pulling the handle, he opened up the heavy hatch, and found a handset attached to the inside of the safe. Alan was sure that no one, except the Director or his deputies, would have known about this direct connection to the White House Science Council.

He started at the phone, feeling the knots in his stomach tighten. Something told him that this call might just change his life; for the better or worse, he couldn’t tell. On the other hand, deep down, something told him that this was the way it should be. Suddenly Alan realized that he has no time for such thoughts, so he silently swallowed all of his last doubts and brought the phone to his ear.

The other end of the line was answered immediately.

Consultant of the White House Science Council; please introduce yourself, a man's baritone voice said, offering nothing - no name or greeting.

Alan introduced himself, referred to the indisposed nature of his boss and the urgency of the situation by outlining the telescope measurements he had taken with the conclusions they had led to.

The line was silent, before the baritone voice guy added in polite tone, Thank you Dr. Norton. His voice was emotionless, as if Alan had just tallied down a random days’ passing to an uninterested companion. We, as you understand, are already aware of the disk and had asked some of the largest global observatories to analyze this phenomenon. You're, however, the first one who has reached out to us with any results, despite the fact that we did not send any specific request to Pittsburgh. I will report your analysis to the management immediately.

Alan could feel his shoulders slightly rise in response to the praise, and his mind wandered off to think of some other ways he might be helpful. He cleared his throat to draw the attention of the consultant before he could hang up, I can send an electronic copy of the spectrogram to your address right now... if you want.

He was hoping for a more so to say, grateful response, but instead the baritone guy made him realize that an astrophysicist might not be fully aware of the capability of the organization he was speaking with.

That will not be necessary, Doctor, said the baritone voice instead. The White House Science Council has access to all the computer networks within the Allegheny Observatory and if necessary can immediately obtain any document at access. While we've been talking, I have already downloaded your spectrogram on my computer and have sent a copy of it to the analytical department.

Alan blinked; cursing himself. The bubbly feeling he had had from being recognized had dissipated, and had molded into one filled with unwitting embarrassment. Understood, Alan added in a purely formal tone, If there is nothing else, I would not want to keep you away from your business.

One moment, Mr. Norton, blurted the baritone. The rush in his voice, gave Alan some ease. So he did know how to display emotions, he thought. I just received an update. The government is creating a group of experts to work on this problem. Given your effective analysis and scientific qualifications I have been instructed to invite you to be a part of this group. You know that we have little time so I would need your answer now.

Only now had Alan understood how Jerry Osborn had been calculating steps ahead of him. No wonder he was so persistent about sending Alan in his place for the conversation with the representative of the Science Council. It was obvious, that in such emergency situations, the authorities would try to involve all the learned individuals with the caliber to contribute to its solution.

As for the guy who gave in the first report to the government? Of course they’d have to put everything aside and get involved for the planet’s security - whether they liked it or not. For Jerry, leaving his work would have been unacceptable for him, so he had just put in Alan on the stage. Now the government gives him the offer and it’s not like he could say ‘no’ to the government...

Alan hesitated a little, but despite his inner turmoil, he bit back his feelings, and added casually Yes of course. I will do everything in my power to help.

Very well, Doctor. Said the baritone voice, all back to their normal frequency. Expecting your agreement, we have dispatched a special helicopter your way. It will take you to Washington. You will need to be ready to depart in half an hour. The helicopter will meet you on the lawn next to the telescope tower. And as if, the baritone voice knew that Alan could use all the luck he could get, he added, All the best.

The line disconnected.

Alan sighed. Locking the safe once again, he checked his own phone for the time. Two thirty three. That meant he had until just after three o’clock to prepare for an express trip to Washington. There was no time to stop by his house and pack. It’s a good thing he had a habit of keeping some spare clothes in his office for the days, where he would chose to visit the observatory gym on his lunch break.

Alan went back to the guard room and returned the key cards he’d borrowed, and then he went by the lab, his main working area. The slight ozone smell of the electronic instruments, when he entered, revitalized him, and the familiarity of it all, relaxed him. Walking over to his desk, he turned off the machines, each buzzing off and adding to the quietness of the room. He entered his office, organized his desk, and for a moment, stared at the monitor that had tossed his life upside down, before turning it off. 

Alan felt drained; the rush of the last couple of hours had fully left his bloodstream. Grabbing the spare clothes from the duffel underneath his desk, Alan stuffed his scribbled calculations inside and poured out the cold coffee in the bathroom sink down the hall.

All done, Alan stepped back, thinking about how he wasn’t even supposed to be here today. By the time he’d made his way back to the front of the building and out the front door, he could already hear the sound of the chopper rotors approaching him. He rounded the corner of the main building and watched as the helicopter gently tapped down on the lawn between him and the telescope tower. A gust of wind flew at him, and Alan’s grip tightened on his bearings.

He slowly approached the helicopter, holding his hand up against the buffeting winds. The rotors continued to rotate at half speed, determined and set to take off again at a moments’ notice. An officer jumped out of the cab, crouch ran over to him, and held out a hand in guidance. Following the directions of the uniformed escort, Alan stepped gingerly up into the belly of the helicopter.

Once he was settled, the officer checked his straps, tugging at the four point harness to make sure it was secure. Confident that the scientist wouldn’t fall out of his seat, the officer pulled the hatch on the cab door closed before settling onto the bench of seats opposite from Alan. The soldier grabbed a large headset from a rack behind him, and adjusting his microphone, pointed at a similar set up over Alan’s shoulder.

So you don’t have to yell over the blades, said the officer, crisply as Alan placed the noise cancelling headphones over his head.

Alan heard the officer order the pilot to take off, and then watched out the window, as the ground fell away. Looking down at the trees in the park and the observatory, Alan realized that he might not be able to see this for a while. Maybe ever, he thought as the copter flew further away from the places he’d known.

Alan briefly thought of his girlfriend, Karen. They were supposed to have a romantic, candlelit dinner tonight, something he’d organized in an attempt to rekindle the ashes of their relationship. He knew that Karen resented how he prioritized his career over everything; over her, and he knew that missing tonight’s dinner would be the final call.  It was something that was out of Alan’s hands, but even then, he knew that this endeavor might very well mean the end of his short affair with the lovely Australian girl.

He wasn’t distraught at the thought though. Their relationship had been one-sided, like most of his relationships, but he did feel a hint of melancholy; it had been comfortable.

Alan wasn’t sure if the pang of that missed comfort was stronger now, because of the looming uncertainty that lay ahead of him or if it was something else. All he knew was this, that from the minute he’d set foot on this helicopter - no, from the moment he had seen that pictogram - his world had been pulled out from under his feet. In place, a new world, strange, full of dangers and with billions of people, waited to be his reality.

He, Alan Norton, by force of circumstances was now one of those who would take a direct part in the potential struggle for life on the planet. An incidental or perhaps, consequential pictogram, had entirely changed his destiny in the space of a few hours.

CHAPTER TWO

Jerry Osborn blew out a sigh after he hung up on his subordinate. Alan was lucky that he was a damned good scientist, because he’d just dropped one hell of a bomb on his boss.

If it were almost anyone else, Jerry thought, as he stared out at the artificial disk of light, I swear I would have thought they were off their rockers.

An artificial light source? Aliens? Jerry exclaimed, repeating the words of his subordinate.  Who in their right minds, would even think of a conclusion like that!

Alan Norton, that’s who, he thought wearily and would have laughed, if it didn’t feel so true at the moment.

Vigorously shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Jerry tried to get a grip on his mind. If the sudden revelations he’d heard were really true, then things could get complicated. It didn’t make sense.

Why would aliens try to keep an eye on them? They were obviously superior in all aspects. They had nothing to gain by it, unless...

Jerry’s head shot up and he grasped his phone. If his guesses were right then they didn’t have much time. He had to make another call and although he rarely used it, he had the number memorized. After a moment, he dialed in the reception desk for the Deputy Secretary of Defense, Phil Holcomb, and introduced himself, asking the receptionist to transfer the call to her boss.

To be precise it was not a call to bypass the authorities. Osborn and Holcomb had known each other ever since they were in college. While he was put on hold momentarily, Jerry’s mind went back to some of the memories he’d had with him, before time took away the old friend he knew and made him important enough to get his calls screened.

Osborn unwittingly chuckled, recalling that one time in some New York's Soho bar, where they had made a bet to drink a bottle of Scotch whisky, while being hung by their feet. The smell of alcohol, the dancing lights as he closed his eyes came back to him with the rush of the memory. Holcomb had won, but despite that all Osborn didn’t hold a grudge - it was a good memory.

A loud click drew him back to the present and Jerry heard the crisp like voice of his friend - the Deputy Secretary of Defense; energetic and domineering as always, but full of friendly attitude.

Jerry, my friend, said Holcomb, I can’t explain why but I don’t really have time to chat right now. You know I’m always happy to hear from you, and I picked up the line to tell you that personally, but we’ll have to rain check a meeting until I’ve shaken myself free of my other responsibilities.

I know what you’re busy with right now, Phil, Osborn interjected, knowing well enough that if he didn’t, his friend would have just hanged up on him. One of my scientists, Alan Norton, just made a discovery related to the disk in the sky. I gave him access to the White House line and ordered him deliver a report on his findings to the WHSC.

There was a pause.

Well, that changes things. He said with a drawl, and that’s when his voice changed, and Jerry wasn’t really surprised to see the stricter, business-like tone it brought up. He was after all the Deputy Secretary of Defense. "What do you want to