Benevolence

By Robert Borele

A highly advanced alien race arrives unannounced offering to help us make our world a better, safer place. With unbelievable technology far beyond human understanding, they seem able to ignore all known laws of space, time, and physics.

They deny all those natural laws that we find undeniable. They have the most profound knowledge of Earth’s past as if they have experienced it. They know the most minor details of our lives. They seem to know our thoughts and our personal motivations. They promise to bring peace and eliminate needs. They promise no one will ever be harmed by their presence, and they promise they will take nothing but memories. Most importantly, they promise freedom.

But there is a catch…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781035808076

Robert Borele

Robert Borele was born in the summer-browned flat-lands of rural Australia, where neighbours and drop-in visitors were like extended family. He remains loyal to that environment. The observation of people and things around him, and a life-long desire to know more, has been a hallmark of his life. Robert has been writing creatively for most of his life and would say that writing is central to it. This is the first large work he has published, but he doesn’t expect it to be the last. He hopes this book will cause you to raise your eyes and mind into the distance, and ponder…

Book preview

Chapter 1

Arrival

Jess Askin was born and raised on the wide, flat wheat-lands of Western Australia, where the only true measure of a man’s worth was ‘mateship’. Mateship was born on the battlefields; raised in an egalitarian ‘lucky country’; and now lay dying of neglect. Only to be dragged out of bed to help corporatised politicians find advantageous babies to kiss.

Mateship. The act of working shoulder to shoulder on a difficult task, or helping someone out of a bind; a circumstantial hole they had found themselves in. Maybe sharing a beer later as equals, without expectation or reward. Mateship splits worth from wealth, and self-reliance from self-interest. The only class Jess recognised, was measured against the scale of mateship.

Mateship persisted, buried deep in the hearts of ordinary people. In the peaceful responsibilities of productive work; and in the regular emergencies of bushfire, flood, drought and trouble. Mateship was unconditional. It could only be broken by betrayal.

The modern, incorporated world had betrayed mateship; by breaking the critical link between work; purpose; and fellowship. In the modern politico/corporate world; work was to make the rich ever richer. Anything to make that happen. Working people had become an unappreciated cost of the production machinery; an impediment to profit. A person could no longer share a beer with his distant boss. If he did so by programmed arrangement, it was easily recognised for what it was; a corporate plan to try to ‘leverage’ the goodwill of mateship.

Jess had been driving the farm tractor and family Ute to help his dad Jack, work their Western Australian wheat farm since he was old enough to reach the pedals. A smallish farm, measured in hundreds rather than thousands of Hectares. Jack was already in his mid-fifties by then, and Jess was very aware; even at that early age; that he was an essential cog in the family enterprise.

Jess was no country galah. With a keen eye for observation, and his flexible, remote country schooling, he had pursued every curiosity as it grabbed him. He had absorbed knowledge like a sponge. When his schoolmates had asked for bikes; air rifles, or footballs for Christmas; Jess had asked for books, and had collected an extensive library, particularly in the sciences. Farm work had toughened his body, but his desire for knowledge had expanded his mind.

His early interest in nature and meteorology flowed into astronomy. For Jess, it was a logical progression. The wide, clear night skies of Western Australia, brightly lit by an expansive milky way, looked for all the world like an enormous clear cockpit canopy above a wide black dashboard horizon. If you sat for long enough after dark, as Jess and his dad often did; you could actually see the Earth moving very slowly, across the lights of this brilliant star-field.

Relaxing his fifteen-year-old body on the veranda beside his workmate-dad one night; looking up at this spectacular night-time display; a ‘cuppa’ in hand; shirt-sleeves rolled high after helping with a hard day’s harvest; Jess gave a great sigh and said, It sure gives a man perspective.

Years later, Jess would recall that night over and over. Working on equal terms beside his dad; helping his family survive; Jess vividly remembered it as ’The night he became a man’. He wondered if many men could name a similar singular moment in their lives. He knew that some men related their manhood to the time they had lost their virginity. But Jess had known many boys who’d lost their virginity early, but remained boys until long after middle age had caught up, and passed them by.

After Jess had completed his schooling, he began tertiary studies in meteorology and planetary physics; but later diverged into astrophysics and radio astronomy. His doctorate in that field culminated in his ultimate position of chief radio astronomer at ASKAP; the ‘Australian Square Kilometre Array’, of synchronised radio dishes.

Jess always retained his thirst for knowledge; his easy country humour; and his steadfast refusal to treat even the most famous on the planet, as anything other than equal. Even then, only if they deserved it; through the quality of mateship.

With Jess away, Jack chose to sell the family farm into a larger corporate holding; while he and Jess’s mum, Heather, peacefully retired onto a manageable ‘hobby’ acreage nearer town.

After Jess married his childhood sweetheart, Meg; they and their children continued their habit of remote bush camping and natural discovery. As a family, they spent many warm Western Australian nights, laying back in a camp-chair somewhere; flying Starship Earth, across the vast Milky Way.

Jess leaned toward the ASKAP display. What the f… he muttered to himself as an intense radio burst announced itself on-screen. What is that?

He aimed the array to fix the direction of the burst, then entered an authority override code to take unilateral control of a smaller dish at Honeysuckle Creek; the width of Australia distant. The small dish confirmed the burst and helped Jess sharpen the notional distance to its source. Bloody hell? was his questioning response.

Jess typed in an address, and then the message, ‘Is there any possibility you could take a peek at this? I think it’s a potential Code Red. I’ll owe you one’. He added the directional data and pressed ‘send’. He waited and waited; tapping his pen impatiently on the desk for what seemed an interminable age. Finally, a picture came through with the blunt message, ‘Nothing, Jess!’

Jess typed, ‘This can’t come from empty space. I’m tracking it. It’s coming toward us. Can you have another look, for distortions or anything? Please!’

Too soon after he had pressed ‘send’ again, the signal stopped. Bugger, he thought aloud. Honeysuckle confirmed the result. As he contemplated this, another picture silently rolled off the printer. Jess looked at the picture with wide eyes for a moment; and said aloud to himself, Where the hell do I take this?

Looking down his long contact list, the ‘Terror Hotline’ seemed like the quickest and best backdoor avenue he could find, to reach the people he thought needed to know about this.

*********

US Secretary of Defence, Jennifer Segart was the first to speak, as everyone entered the ‘war room’. She began even as they took their seats.

Thank you, everybody. Mr President; joint chiefs; emergency services; defence heads. You all know each other. With us, we also have invited scientific advisers; Mike Sutherland, a senior adviser in astrophysics with NASA; and Trinket (Trina) Kettering who has extensive anthropological and cross-culture communications experience, with NASA and other research institutions. I’m sorry it’s only 5 am. We have a situation of potentially huge significance developing. We’ll expand on that in a moment.

It is very likely this group will be recalled urgently back here again and again for this issue. I ask you to keep your eyes and ears open for the message ‘Earth 21 Recall’.

With us on screen we have the Australian Prime Minister, Ms Jane Sellers. Prime Minister Sellers perhaps you would begin, please?

All attendees, now seated and fully attentive, turned furrowed eyes to the screen.

Yes. President Edwards; Madam Defence Secretary; esteemed executive. We have some potentially disturbing news from the chief astronomer at our advanced ASKAP astronomical research facility in Western Australia. It may prove to be an issue that perhaps only you, Mr President, will have the power and the resources to deal with. At the very least, you will need to be aware of it. I introduce to you, our chief radio astronomer at ASKAP, Dr Jess Askin. I have asked him to explain it to you directly. He will be able to answer some of your questions. Jess, will you please take over?

US President, Dick Edwards was politically sharp, amiable, and moderate. He was highly respected throughout the country; and envied for his popularity and success by his more polarised rivals. He had come from less privileged beginnings, and truly understood the burdens and dreams of ordinary Americans. They tell us a rising tide lifts all boats equally, Dick Edwards was often quoted, our job is to make sure that everyone is safely on board.

Dick Edwards always took time to know who he was dealing with; making them comfortable revealing their true motivations. He had found personal communication to be more reliable than formality. He spoke with familiar ease toward his Australian friend-in-politic. I’m never formal before breakfast, Jane, he said with an exaggerated mock-suggestive wink, first names will be quicker. He moved slightly in his chair, nodded to the screen image, and asked, What was your man’s name again? consciously laying a relaxed table for the scientist.

A sun-tanned face on broad shoulders entered the screen as it took a chair. Jess wasn’t easily intimidated; but he sure felt uneasy calling the US President, ‘Dick’. I’m Jess Askin, sir.

Me too, quipped the president. A great name for a scientist.

Jess chuckled. Yes, sir. Perhaps I could say I was named after my grandmother, like that famous American fellow, ‘Sue Yore-Ass’. Lots of your people seem to be going to him when they feel annoyed or upset. Is he a great sage; a relaxation therapist, or something?

A hesitant chuckle crept around the room, waiting for the president to accept or reject this apparent disregard for the overwhelming power in the room; but the sun-tanned face burrowed on like a discombobulated wombat. Just an issue of accents, really. At home, my name Askin has a hard ass. It doesn’t raise attention, because the word asking is stretched, as in arse-king.

That surely doesn’t fit a scientist so well, the president conceded, merging humour with Jess. I suppose such a person could call themselves ‘fat’; and start a fast-food franchise. I surely can’t imagine what they’d use for the ‘golden arches’.

The easy repartee had the intended effect. The group relaxed. A useful five minutes had passed. Lifesaving coffee and toasted sandwiches were now being served to sandy eyes all round, and they all found it much easier to focus on the serious matter at hand. The president nodded unnoticed to Secretary Jenn Segart, who called the meeting back to business.

Jess, can you expand on the news you gave me? she said.

Yes, Jenn ma’am. Briefly, we were doing a combined radio-optical study on the effects of solar flare activity on the far southern magnetosphere. Aurora seems to be changing. We question whether carbon pollution at the poles is conducting charged particles deeper into our atmosphere. We are investigating the possible consequences of that. It’s always the things we don’t see that bite us on the bum. Jess hesitated thoughtfully.

That’s irrelevant, Jess added; quickly drawing himself back to more critical matters. During our observations, ASKAP detected an unexpected and incredibly intense radio signal. A really strange radio signal; an RSRS. You couldn’t detect it from there. South toward the pole, we can track it.

It seemed to be coming from within the notional sphere of our solar system, but was impossible to pinpoint exactly. Anyway, with an extraordinary combination of luck; totally embarrassing sucking up; and extortionate favours; we managed to convince your guys to just carelessly divert the Optical Space Telescope, and take a peek while they were ‘re-calibrating’.

A picture appeared on the screen. This photo was taken by the OST today. Just after midnight there. You can plainly see there are three objects in apparent formation which should not be there.

Dick Edwards responded with everyone’s question. What are they, Jess? Are they meteors; asteroids; maybe just a radio glitch of some sort?

No, sir, added Jess assertively. They are real; they are huge; they are fast; and they are heading straight toward us. A collective murmur arose, with many sideways glances. Jess left a surprisingly polished dramatic pause, then delivered the punchline. And we’re pretty sure they are artificial; probably inhabited.

The murmur grew to a rumble.

Still cautious, the president advanced, We haven’t detected them before, Jess? Haven’t we got equipment just for that purpose? he said, his raised eyebrows searching all the faces in the room.

They weren’t there before, sir! was the quick reply from the screen. Another picture appeared beside the one on the screen. This is the first photo taken by the OST just three minutes earlier. You can see the stellar background is identical to the last. That’s what we would normally see down there. Not much at all. The RSRS was there, but there was nothing visible. While I was talking about it with your guys, the RSRS stopped, and the objects just popped into view.

Were they travelling at, or faster than the speed of light? Manipulating space-time? We don’t know. Was the RSRS a consequence of some wormhole science or cloaking technology? We don’t know. Were they behind the RSRS, or did the RSRS transport them there? We just don’t know. But once they became visible, we could measure their position and speed. Still incredibly fast.

What makes you think they’re inhabited, Jess? I mean, you’re talking about possible intelligent aliens here.

Yes, sir. Ordinary space objects don’t just pop into view like that. They have a history and a predictable future. They have a trajectory. And not too long after the RSRS stopped and the objects appeared, we detected recognisable, digitally modulated radio signals, which we believe are coming from them. There are no natural signals like that we have ever observed in space, and we took great care to make sure it was coming from space. It seems there may be someone on board communicating. It sounds like communication. We’ve got a Comms bloke looking at it right now. That might give us some information eventually.

Do you think they might be trying to communicate with us or with each other, Jess? asked Secretary Jenn Segart, not really expecting an answer. She turned and raised the disturbing possibility. They could be advising us or warning us, Dick. What if they’re demanding a response?

We don’t even know for sure that there is a ‘they’ until we can decode it, Jenn, added Jess. They could be unmanned satellites exchanging data. But if they are waiting for an answer, they may get confused or annoyed at our silence. It might be wise to send them some universal maths in our own radio format. I reason that, if they can’t decipher our message, they might assume we are answering; giving us a little time while they unscramble it. When they do, they might assume we don’t understand what they are asking; and give us more time to crack their message. They might even re-send it in our format. But if they were just chatting to each other, they would probably assume we are making polite first contact.

Trina Kettering interceded; Are there long breaks between the signals, Jess?

Not long breaks, no, replied Jess.

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