The Casitians Return

Michelle Murrain

Published by Ursa Minor Publishing

Copyright 2011 Michelle Murrain

ISBN: 978-1-4524-1094-4

The Casitians Return by Michelle Murrain is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License.

Casitian Universe at: http://casitian.com

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: Emergence

Chapter 2: Exposure

Chapter 3: Contact

Chapter 4: Plans

Chapter 5: Evangelism

Chapter 6: Liaison

Chapter 7: Betrayal

Chapter 8: Secrets

Chapter 9: Uproar

Chapter 10: Coalescing

Chapter 11: Tursiops

Chapter 12: Shutdown

Chapter 13: Chaos

Chapter 14: Opposition

Chapter 15: Conflict

Chapter 16: Campaign Trail

Chapter 17: Election Night

Chapter 18: Decisions

Chapter 19: Emigration

Chapter 20: New Beginnings

Chapter 1: Emergence

Palo Alto, California, Earth, April 20, 2011

Joel rocked back and forth in his squeaky chair and looked at the three flat-screen monitors mounted above a desk strewn with papers. He felt sleepy, even though it was only late morning; he had stayed up far too late writing a paper for the next SETI conference, which got smaller every year. He squinted at colorful graphs of data from the aging radio telescope at Arecibo, which was slated to go offline in a few months. As he scrolled through graph after graph, he got more and more bored, so he almost missed it. There it was, a real signal: clear, focused, and no doubt, artificial. It was, actually, suspiciously strong.

As the excitement of this new signal built inside him, the old sadness that he was the last scientist left working full-time on SETI came back to him. Since the big scandal three years ago, all the others had either left the field, or were doing work in small snippets of time they could spare between other projects. All the graduate students had left to do other sorts of projects. He was utterly committed to SETI, so he kept on, and refused to think about a future without SETI science. He was convinced that somehow, someday, he would find the thing that would finally validate all of his efforts.

He brought his attention back to the signal, realizing its possible importance. The first task was to look at where it was coming from. Checking the direction of the antenna at the time of the signal, he brought up a star chart on his screen, and cross-checked it with the directional information from the antenna. He cursed. Mars. Mars? Who set the telescope to be looking at Mars at this time, when everyone knew the orbiter was operating? Damn, he thought.

He flagged it, just in case, and kept going, looking at the rest of the runs, feeling more bored and more dispirited than before. His stomach started to grumble, and he thought fondly of his favorite pizza place. Pepperoni and anchovy pizza sounded like a good antidote to his current mood.

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 20, 2011

Marianne walked down the busy street, and she could see the sky darken between buildings as she looked toward the ocean. This evening she needed time to relax, and think, and her favorite watering hole seemed the best place to go. As she approached the bar, the neon lights that advertised Budweiser and Coors hanging in the glass window blinked a little, the latter lights sporting strange rainbow colored mountains. What would they think of next? “Felicia's,” the name of the bar, shone in neon above the window, with the 'l' and 'c' having small blank spots in them.

She found the door and swung it open, and familiar scents wafted to her nose. Preoccupied, she almost tripped walking in. As she made her way to a bar stool, and her eyes adapted to the dim light, she looked at the new bartender. Her spiky blond hair and tattoos, and a particularly painful looking piercing at the bridge of her nose, were all somewhat intriguing. But in the end, Marianne decided, not all that attractive.

“What would you like?” Her smile was pretty cute, though.

Marianne debated. MUNI was her ticket home, so there was little need for care. Besides, her day had been one that she wouldn't mind forgetting.

“Whisky sour, please.” She rarely drank mixed drinks or hard liquor, but today had started out badly, and ended up even worse. She watched the bartender prepare her drink. It always interested Marianne how bartenders worked; some were very utilitarian, others showing a kind of flair that she enjoyed. This one looked like she noticed Marianne watching, and wanted to show off.

After all of the flourish, the bartender finally placed the drink in front of Marianne, smiled, and moved on to other customers. Marianne swirled the thin straw, fingered the stem of the cherry, and thought back to her day. She had awoken to her phone ringing at 5:00 a.m. with the slurred voice of her most recent ex, Suzanne. She wanted to see her, and Marianne had to firmly refuse, even though she felt a little guilty.

Once she got to the office, it had been one of those days full of glitches and bugs and unexpected problems. She was a stickler for good code, which sometimes ran afoul of the goals of the company she worked for, whose only current source of revenue was contracts from NASA/JPL. Her late afternoon meeting with Chuck, the project manager, who knew too much management, and not enough project, had been a complete disaster. She'd been called into his office at 4 PM, and she walked in to see a grim look on his small, pasty, pudgy face.

“Marianne, we need to have a talk about the amount of time you've been spending on this project. We're running too close to the line on this budget.”

“Chuck, you should recall that we talked about how we would have to front-load most of the development in these new missions to Mars and Saturn, but that work would allow us to mostly sail through the work we need to do for the second mission to Mars, and the Venus lander.”

“We can't afford to do that any longer. We have no choice. I heard from the resource manager that we're running out of cash, and our investors aren't going to give us any more money. You need to trim the development budget. I can see a few shortcuts here you can use.”

He pulled out some sheets of paper, diagrams that she had worked up for the project several months ago. She could see some particular parts were circled in red. In the end, she had to cave into his demands for shortcuts for two new missions to Mars and Saturn. She had been livid, and had said some things to him that would have cost her job, had she not been one of the most important assets to the project.

As she was finishing the last of her drink, looking deeply into the melting ice, she could feel someone watching her. She turned to look down the bar, and saw a woman with the most striking green eyes she had ever seen. Her face was almost a perfect oval, with light brown complexion, and gorgeous eyes that were almond-shaped. She had close-cropped dark brown hair, and she was wearing a tank-top, so it was easy to see that she was well-muscled. She was smiling directly at Marianne, who was instantly intrigued, and attracted. She hesitated, and then got up and went to sit next to her.

“Hi. You look pretty new around here—I don't think we've met before.” Marianne felt completely lame with that beginning.

“Hello. No, we haven’t met before.” The woman's voice was melodious, her accent unfamiliar, and Marianne was enchanted. “I am new. I just moved to the city a little time ago. My name is Ja'el.”

“That's a beautiful name. My name is Marianne.” She extended her hand. Ja'el took it, almost too gently, and shook.

“What brought you here, a job?”

She nodded. “Yes, you could say that.” That was all she said.

“I've lived here for five years now. I'm a programmer. I work on algorithms for space vehicles.” Ja'el nodded. People usually looked at Marianne with surprise when she told them of her work, but Ja'el almost seemed as if she'd known.

Ja'el looked toward the pool tables. “Want to play?”

Marianne agreed immediately. She liked to play pool, it was a nice icebreaker, and she was quite good at it, beating almost everyone she played. She offered to rack, and to have Ja'el break. As Ja'el lined up her shots, Marianne watched her move her body. There was something unfamiliar, something strange about the way she held the pool cue, and made the shot. But several balls made it into pockets anyway. It was quickly clear that Ja'el was much better at pool than Marianne. She won handily, several times.

“OK, I give up! You are a great pool player.”

Ja'el looked almost embarrassed—like she'd made a mistake. “I've just had a lot of practice lately, that's all.”

Marianne smiled. “That's OK, really. I don't mind.” They made their way back to the stools, and Marianne offered to buy Ja’el a drink.

“Thanks. I'll have… what you’re having.”

“A whisky sour?”

“Sure. I’ll have that.”

As the bartender was preparing their drinks, Ja'el asked in her unfamiliar accent, “I'm new to the city—is there a place you can recommend that I see?”

“Well, there is the new museum in Golden Gate Park. It has a lot of great artwork from all over the world. Also, they have a new photography exhibit by my favorite photographer.”

Marianne could tell Ja'el looked a little confused for a minute. “Will you take me there?”

Marianne was taken aback. “Um, sure, I was thinking of going on Saturday, anyway.” It would give her the perfect excuse not to work that day. “Where do you live? I'll come pick you up.”

Ja'el said quickly, almost too quickly, “No, I'll come by your place.”

“OK, if you want.” Marianne was surprised by Ja'el, but she was far to intrigued by her to protest. She took her wallet out of her pocket, grabbed one of her cards, and wrote on the back her home address and cell number, handing it to Ja'el. “Why don't you come by around 10:00? There is a great brunch place we can go to on the way.”

Ja'el nodded. “See you then.” She slipped off the bar stool and walked toward the door. She paused, turned to look at Marianne and smile, then completed her trip to the door, and out of the bar. Marianne's eyes followed her, and when Ja'el had left, she finished the last of her second whisky sour, resisted ordering a third, and walked out herself, making her way more slowly than usual to MUNI. On the trip home, she couldn't help obsessing a bit about Ja'el, and the mystery that she was.

Palo Alto, California, Earth, April 20, 2011

Joel was daydreaming again, while he continued to sift through the Arecibo data. He was startled out of his daydream by a loud beeping sound. He looked at the small window that had popped up on the screen to his right. It was an instant message from Dwight, his old college friend from Nevada.

Words appeared in the window: “Did you hear about the sighting last week? The publicity on it is building.” Joel only barely tolerated Dwight's obsession with being a “UFOlogist” as he called it, but Dwight thought of both of them as brothers in the same obsession.” No, I haven't heard anything.” Joel was already bored.

“It was Tuesday. About a hundred people in four different locations saw them. They were different than any kind of UFOs seen before. Completely convincing.”

Joel was far from convinced. “Any pictures?”

“Quite a few, and some of the news outlets are beginning taking this seriously. I’m surprised you haven’t heard.”

Joel didn’t pay much attention to the news, and less to UFOs. But something stirred in Joel's memory. “Did you say Tuesday? What time?”

“Between 19:40 and 19:50 GMT.”

“Are you absolutely positive about that?”

“Yes, dude, totally. Everyone's timing agrees—it all happened during those ten minutes. What's up?”

He typed, keys quickly tapping, “Email me everything you've got, as soon as possible!”

“Why? What's going on?”

“Just do it. I'll be in touch, I promise.”

Joel closed the instant messenger window without waiting for a reply, and brought up the signal he'd flagged earlier that day. His stomach began to do flip flops, and it wasn't because he was hungry. That strong, clear signal appeared again on his screen, the one that was supposed to be from Mars. It had come precisely at 19:44 on Tuesday. This couldn't be a coincidence. He needed some sort of corroboration this wasn't from the Mars orbiter.

He did a search on the NASA/JPL website for the Mars orbiter mission, and according to the data there, the orbiter had been on the other side of Mars at the exact time of the signal. Further, the site said that the orbiter had stopped sending signals, because it had been in internal calibration mode for at least six hours during that day, easily encompassing all of the time during the signal.

He had to tell somebody about this—it just was too important to ignore.

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 21, 2011

The office was buzzing when Marianne walked in the door the next day. She felt a bit sleepy and fuzzy because of the drinks last night—two drinks on a weeknight were more than she could handle. As she was walking to her cubicle, David, Marianne’s best friend, as well as her coworker, intercepted her. To Marianne, he looked an odd mix of haggard and excited—he had dark circles around his eyes, as if he hadn't slept for a while. But there was also a bit of a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Did you hear about the UFO sightings?” Ah, that was what the buzz was all about. Marianne always thought that her co-workers’ obsession with UFOs and aliens was a bit over the top.

“Obviously not. What UFO sightings?”

“Like one hundred people in Nevada and Utah saw these UFOs last week. And they even got pictures! It made the news last night.” David was showing his excitement—hands waving in the air, smile on his face. She was surprised at how excited David was.

“OK, send me the links, I'll have a look.” He smiled, and looked like he wanted to jump up and down like a little boy. Marianne put her hand on his arm.

“And... I have a date. Well, I think it's a date.”

“A date? Who is she? What does she do?”

“Her name is Ja'el. I actually don't know what she does, she wouldn't tell me. She creamed me at pool. She's, well... she's interesting.”

“She creamed you at pool? And she didn't tell you what she does? Be careful—you have terrible taste in women.” David smiled.

“No, I think she's different, I really do.”

“I'll believe it when I see it. When's the date?”

“Saturday. I'll fill you in on the details, I promise.”

Marianne finally made it to her cubicle, after being interrupted in her travels three more times by co-workers who wanted tell her about the UFO sightings. She sat down to start reading her email and saw, in one of the first, that Jonathan, the programmer they had hired a few weeks ago, was having problems with vector algorithms. She got up to talk with him, and before she knew it, the day passed in a blur. Although there were moments of daydreaming of what it would be like to be with Ja'el, she never got back to David's email.

Palo Alto, California, Earth, April 21, 2011

Joel paced nervously in the waiting room of his boss Katherine's office. She always made him cool his heels and wait to see her. He stared at her office door, a dark wood paneled affair, with a silver placard announcing in bold letters, “Katherine Robinson, Ph.D. Chief of Research.”

“Joel, come in.” He heard her muffled voice from behind the door. He opened the door and walked into the office. It always seemed smaller to him than he remembered. This time, he almost felt the walls closing in on him.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me, Katherine.”

“Joel, you know that your job here as SETI researcher is quite tenuous. Last year the board almost voted to eliminate the program. The only reason why they didn't was because I convinced them that there was still at least some value left in SETI research, and that you in particular had made very valuable contributions to the SETI program.”

“Thank you Katherine, I know...”

“Joel, I may not be able to pull a rabbit out of the hat again next year. You need to start thinking about your future.”

“I know. People tell me I'm crazy to keep concentrating on SETI. But I am convinced that it's the right thing to do. And I have something that might prove it.”

She looked up at him, her long, thin face forming into a severe expression.

“I doubt that is possible.”

“Please hear me out. Last Tuesday, Arecibo picked up an especially strong signal.”

He swiveled his laptop around, and showed her the graph.

“That's quite interesting. Where was this coming from?”

He swiveled the laptop back around, clicked a few keys and brought up two new windows, and swiveled it back.

“At the time, Arecibo was looking at Mars. However...”

“Mars! Joel...”

“However, from NASA/JPL data, the Mars orbiter was on the far side of Mars at the time, and was also in radio silence most of that day, doing internal calibration routines.”

“Joel, mistakes happen. This signal must be from the Mars orbiter. There is no other reasonable explanation!”

He swiveled the laptop again, to open up windows with the pictures of UFOs to show her.

“At the exact same time as the signal, I mean within a strict 10 minute timeframe, there were several credible sightings of UFOs in Nevada and Utah.”

She sat back in her chair, and Joel could see the red starting to suffuse her face.

“Joel, how dare you come to me with this crap?” Spittle started to escape the corners of her mouth, as her face became completely red, and her eyes were wide open.

“Katherine...”

“Joel, get the hell out of this office right now! If you bother me again with any more shit like this, you are going to be out on your ass faster than you can count to one. Am I completely clear?”

Joel sighed, closed the laptop, and looked at his boss.

“I'm sorry Katherine, I won't bother you again.”

He could hear her banging things around in her office as he walked down the hall from her office. He knew, deep in his bones, that something strange was happening. He needed help in figuring it out—there must be someone who could help him.

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 23, 2011

She tossed and turned most of the night. Between stress at work and her date with the mysterious Ja'el, she could hardly sleep. She finally got out of bed and went to the shower, and let the hot, steamy water wake her up. She realized she needed some good, strong coffee, so started a pot brewing, while she finished getting dressed. As she sat at her kitchen table, looking out of the window at the fog still covering the hills, she wondered idly what her day with Ja'el would be like. How would it end?

Ja'el rang the bell exactly on time, and Marianne walked down the stairs to meet her at the front. It was still quite cool out, with the fog hanging in the air, cool droplets of water coalescing on her clothing. Ja'el was wearing only a tank top and a light pair of pants.

“Aren't you cold? Do you need something warmer?”

Ja'el shook her head, and said in her strange accent, “Thanks, no, I'm fine; it feels pretty warm out to me.” Her accent was smooth and light, almost like the accents she'd heard from people from South Asia, or perhaps the Middle East. Yet it wasn't like that at all.

“Are you used to a colder climate?”

She nodded. It was the kind of nod that was not followed by any explanation, nor did it invite further questions, so Marianne pointed the way toward the MUNI station, and they started walking. At the station, Marianne noticed Ja'el hang back as Marianne was adding money to her card. On a whim, or perhaps out of habit, Marianne bought Ja'el a card, and handed it to her.

Ja’el smiled. “Thank you.”

They went through the station, and managed to just catch a train as it was about to leave. As they sat down, Marianne noticed Ja'el's unease.

“Have you been on MUNI before?”

“I've never been on a... this kind of vehicle before.”

“Really?” Marianne was incredulous. “How do you get around town?”

“I mostly take... taxis.” The word “taxis” was said slowly, with a slight rise of pitch, as if it were a question.

Marianne was silent, as the train moved on. As she looked at Ja'el, she mused, where could she be from? A cold climate with that accent and complexion? Never having been on a train? And getting around San Francisco in taxis? She began to spin out a strange tale in her head, of rich diplomats from strange countries and their sheltered daughter finally leaving the nest and finding herself in a new unfamiliar city. Marianne felt a protective impulse.

“So where were you born?” Marianne decided to start a series of questions that she hoped would get her closer to the truth of Ja'el.

“Nowhere you would know.”

“Try me, really. I know a lot of places.”

“It's... well, it's very complicated. I'd like to tell you, but ... well, I hardly know you.”

Marianne realized that all the hints were there. She should have known that she'd hit a brick wall. She had a hard time with reticence like this, but Ja'el was pretty compelling, so Marianne decided on a different tack, to try and walk around the wall.

“Alright, how about if I tell you some things about me?”

She started to weave her tale on the train, and continued as they found their way to the small restaurant that was Marianne's favorite brunch place. There was a brief interruption as she answered Ja'el's many questions about the menu.

Ja'el did seem intrigued and genuinely interested as Marianne told her the story of her life. She was born in New York City, and lived there until her junior year in high school, when her father got a job managing a large industrial plant in rural Missouri. She hated rural Missouri—hated the closed-minded people and the small town mentality. She left as soon as she could, moving far away, and getting her Bachelor's and Master's degrees in Computer Science at MIT. Marianne's younger sister, Yolanda, had stayed in Jefferson City, getting married to a local company man, and now had two daughters Marianne seldom saw. Marianne moved to San Francisco a couple of years after she finished school.

Ja'el listened intently, almost seeming to hang on every word. She looked empathetic, and touched Marianne's arm at moments when she spoke of things that were difficult—like her time in Missouri. When the check came, Marianne took it, and said, “My treat,” even though she still was nursing the illusion that Ja'el was a rich diplomat's daughter. They left the restaurant, and walked leisurely down to the museum, still chatting about Marianne's life.

When they got into the first exhibit hall, Marianne saw an immediate change in Ja'el. This was the new museum's exhibit of abstract expressionists, with a huge Jackson Pollack on one wall, splashes of color riotously challenging each other for attention on the canvas. On another wall was a serene and simple Rothko, layers of subtly different shades of blue in rectangles sitting vertically on top of one another. In front of each, Ja'el stood for minutes, gazing at them as if she'd never seen art before.

“It's so beautiful. Where I come from... we have art all around, outside, in public spaces. We live with art constantly.”

Marianne was silent, listening to the first words Ja’el had really said about her life. As she watched Ja'el move from painting to painting, and from photograph to photograph in the Annie Leibowitz exhibit, a big alarm bell was going off in her head. This was someone for whom this art, all of the art in the museum, was completely new: the sculptures from all over the world, the impressionists, the abstract expressionists, the fabric art of South America, the photorealists, and the photographers. Marianne realized that Ja'el had never experienced any of it in her life. Yet, she had just said she had lived with art all around her. This combination, Marianne decided, was simply impossible.

They finally left the museum, after being kicked out because it was closing. The guards had been eyeing them suspiciously for quite a while. Marianne could tell that Ja'el would have stayed in there for hours more, if she had been able to.

“That art is so beautiful. I can't understand why it's hidden away in that building, instead of out in the streets.” Marianne didn't have an answer for Ja'el, because it seemed a question born out of a stunning naïveté. Marianne suggested a stroll around the neighborhood, and they came to one of Marianne's favorite churches, St. Julian's, which was only a couple of years old. It had beautiful rounded walls, with long stained-glass strips, mostly of blues, going from the bottom of the building to the top.

As they passed, Ja'el asked, “What is this—it's such a beautiful building?”

“It's a church.”

“Can we go in?”

Marianne knew that it was often open to the public, so they went around to the front, and tried the door. It was open. As they went in, they could see the high ceiling, and the last of the sun shining through the large stained-glass mural in the back. It was not visible from the street, because it faced a courtyard.

They sat down in a pew near the mural. Ja'el looked at it intently.

Marianne said, “That mural is a depiction of the life of Julian of Norwich, a 14th century mystic in England. She was what was called an 'anchoress' - she lived in a church, and spent most of her day in prayer and meditation, but she also would see lay people. She would give them advice, and pray with them, and the like. She wrote an amazing mystical work.”

Ja'el looked around the inside of the church, as if examining every little candle and chalice.

“Is it unusual to name a church after a mystic?”

“Yes, quite unusual. Christianity has had a... somewhat troubled relationship with mysticism.”

“Most churches don't look like this, do they?”

Marianne nodded. “This church has very unusual architecture.”

“The inside?”

“Well, the contents of the inside, these pews, the altar, the cross, that stuff, that's pretty standard.”

“Are these kinds of things also in the church you go to?”

“Mine is a little different. I'm not an Episcopalian. The stuff in my church is a bit more, well, muted, less elaborate.” Marianne didn't want to get into a conversation about the differences between Protestant denominations. In fact, she didn't really want to get into any more conversations with Ja'el about anything at all until she knew more. She could no longer ignore the alarms going off in her head. She took a deep breath, and turned toward Ja'el.

“Ja'el, I've had a really nice day with you, and I think I've told you almost everything in my life there is to tell.”

Ja'el smiled, and chuckled, “Well, I'm sure there is a lot more. Like you haven't told me anything about ...”

Marianne gave Ja’el a look that made it clear she was serious. “Ja'el, please. I still haven't heard a word about you. You know a lot about me now, and we've spent some time together. I'm not going to bite, or give away some secret that you have. But I need to know more about you—I mean how else...”

Ja'el put her hand on Marianne's cheek, which was wonderfully warm, and sent shivers down her body, threatening to melt her. “I understand, and I apologize. I know I have been withholding, but what I have to say is very, well, sensitive, and I needed to get a better feeling for who you are.”

“Better feeling? Sensitive? I don't...”

“Marianne, I will tell you everything, but not now. Can we meet again next week? I'll come to your place in the afternoon?”

“Um, next week? Saturday? OK.” Marianne was pretty disappointed to have to wait that long.

Ja'el got up, and Marianne followed, and they walked back to the street. Marianne started to walk toward MUNI, and noticed Ja'el wasn't next to her. She stopped, and turned around and saw Ja’el several feet behind her.

“Actually, my home is… that way.” She was pointing in the other direction. Strangely, she pointed directly toward the park. Marianne was puzzled, but decided to leave it until next week.

“Oh, OK. Well, then I'll see you next Saturday.”

Marianne waved, and turned back, and started to walk, getting lost in thought about Ja'el, and what she might learn next week. She heard a whooshing sound behind her. She turned around, and Ja'el had completely vanished.

Chapter 2: Exposure

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 25, 2011

The office was quiet as she walked in. People were hunched over their work in deep concentration. The Mars orbiter mission was doing some especially careful mapping of the poles of Mars, and her company was deeply involved in the processing of that data.

She wore a heavy jacket this morning, the fog having prevented the sun from warming things up. She hung it up on the rack nearest her cubicle, and was about to sit down at her desk, when David swooped over and stood in front of her.

“I need your help.”

“Anything, you know that, David.”

“I have this friend, an old friend, who is a SETI scientist.”

“There are still some of those?”

“Yeah, just one. Anyway, he found a signal from Tuesday the 14th—remember that day? It was the same day as the UFO sightings.”

“OK, and?”

“He says it came from the direction of Mars, and he needs official corroboration that it wasn't a signal from the Mars orbiter.”

“When on Tuesday?”

“19:40 GMT.”

“It couldn't be; the orbiter was in radio silence.”

“You sure?”

“David, I coded those diagnostic routines, I'm damn sure.”

“Well, he needs corroboration.”

“Alright, have him send me the signal, and I'll have a look.”

“Thanks!” David looked again like he wanted to jump up and down like an excited little boy. “This could be it, Marianne! Finally proof that UFOs are real and we are being watched.” He turned serious.

“So how was your date Saturday?”

Marianne thought back briefly on the day, the mystery, and the shivers Ja'el gave her when she looked at her. “It went ... it went fine. She's really interesting, and different.”

“That's what you said about Suzanne after your first date.”

“No, no, not interesting and different in that way, David!”

“Well, interesting and different how?”

Marianne relayed the whole story to David from the beginning. She told of Ja'el's not having ever been on a train, not telling her much of where she was from, her many questions at brunch, her strange accent and mannerisms, her behavior at the art gallery, and what she'd told Marianne about art “where she was from.”

“It doesn't add up, Marianne.”

“I know, I know.”

“I hate to say it, but... could she be psychotic?”

“David!”

“No, I'm serious. Really, this simply doesn't add up.”

“David, she's not psychotic. Her behavior and everything she has told me has its own true, consistent logic. But the problem is that I don't know the rules.”

“Well, my dear, you have only one other option.”

“And that is?”

“She's an alien.” David laughed, and walked back to his desk. Marianne sat down at her desk, and pondered. It was a really strange thought, but she let her mind run away with it. What if she were an alien, somehow? Grew up on a totally different planet, with a different climate, no trains, and, art everywhere. Earth was completely foreign.

But she was undoubtedly human. Ja’el had touched Marianne’s arm and face, and Marianne had seen her up close and face to face for hours. It would have to be an amazing costume or technology in order for her to have truly been an alien species.

She shook her head vigorously, and went to work. In a few minutes, the email from Joel was highlighted in her inbox, and she downloaded the huge raw signal file. After doing a Fast Fourier transform on the signal, she whistled. There was absolutely no way that this signal came from the Mars orbiter, or any human-made object in space. The frequencies and combinations were far outside the range of any equipment she knew of.

She wrote up an email, with charts of the FFT, the specifications and schedule of the Mars orbiter, and, of course, lots of caveats about not having any way of knowing where the signal was coming from. David said “official corroboration,” so she copied her boss, Chuck, and clicked “send.”

Even as that email was making its way back to Joel, and eventually to many, many other people in ways that would later create what her mother liked to call a “shitstorm,” Marianne was weighing what David had said, and came to her own conclusion. She looked forward to Saturday when she could find out whether she was right. She figured that if she was, today's email and Ja'el's identity would come together in some very interesting ways.

Hol'venif, Casiti 90 Hevl, 780

Hetl'zef kept feeling mixed emotions as he remembered his time with Silandra while they were preparing to leave to go to the spaceport. He was saying his final farewell since Silandra was to be away from Casiti so long. They had spent a long evening together, eating a dinner of Hetl'zef's mid-summer harvest, some fittls from the tank, baked in the oven, and some fermented yutzi drink. And they had spent hours in languid lovemaking, moving again and again between touching and not-touching. The invisible threads coursed between them, creating currents and circuits of pleasure and joy. Finally they slept, and just a few hours later, when the small orange sun rose in the purple sky, Silandra dressed, picked up her already packed bag, and followed Hetl'zef into his small vehicle.

After setting the destination for the spaceport, they had two more hours together. They talked about the culture of the humans on Reit'al, or “Earth,” as those humans called their planet. They speculated about how it would be for Silandra to see Ja'el again. And they marveled at Gwet'po's huge sculptures along the travel-way, and the new art pieces which had recently been added to the landscape, providing a dynamic three-dimensional display as they drove. It was very inventive, and Hetl'zef made a mental note to look up the artist later.

When they finally arrived, Silandra hurried off to meet her ship, and Hetl'zef busied himself with joinings with folks who lived in the spaceport village. He didn't go to the spaceport often, so there were a lot of people to see. It wasn't until the solitary trip home that he thought about how much he would miss Silandra. He had no plans ever to leave Casiti, his home, and he didn't know if or when he would see her again. Yet, at the same time, his heart was filled with the joy of knowing she would be happy and in her element, facilitating the contact between Casitians and Terrans. As he passed the majestic sculptures again, he realized that it might be time for him to think about a new companion. He thought of Torf'ki, with whom he'd had a very pleasant and productive joining, discussing his new ideas about greenhouse design. He thought, to himself, “Torf'ki might actually make a very nice winter companion.”

Palo Alto, California, Earth, April 29, 2011

The two security guards that Joel saw standing inside the front entrance to the building were ominous signs. Usually there weren’t any security guards around. One of them was scrawny, and the other tall and burly, with muscles bulging inside his uniform jacket.

The scrawny one said, “We are here to escort you to Dr. Robinson’s office.”

The burly one nodded behind him, looking as if he could break Joel in two with ease. Joel decided to do exactly what they said. He followed them to Katherine’s office, where the door was ajar.

As he walked in, he could see that Katherine was furious. She was standing behind her desk, her face red, her hands balled up into fists. Her eyes scrutinized him savagely. Joel couldn't remember ever having seen her so angry, not even when he'd first talked to her about the signals. Her normally controlled demeanor had completely cracked, and she actually started screaming at him, loud enough to make him want to cover his ears.

“How dare you go outside of this organization, and outside of my jurisdiction?” Her face was so red that Joel was worried that she might drop dead right in front of him.

Despite her behavior, Joel tried to keep his voice steady, even though he knew it was futile to try and save his job.

“Honestly,” he lied, “I thought the end result would be that you were right—that it was just a stray radio signal from the Mars orbiter. But I figured it was my job to confirm that, because the result was just so irregular. I wanted to avoid any possible embarrassment for the program. And I had no idea that Marianne would copy other people besides me on that message. I should have told her how classified this is. I'm really sorry my actions caused problems for you. I'll do my best to follow proper channels in the future.”

“You've made it quite clear what your priorities are,” Katherine said, with quite a bit less volume than before, but her face still very red. “Promising to 'follow proper channels in the future' means nothing when you've already violated them so flagrantly. You've dragged us into what is clearly SETI scandal number two, and this will completely invalidate any SETI research forever. To top it off, this situation has gotten the attention of the National Science Foundation, and they're re-evaluating our level of funding for all of our programs for next year. You've put us in a very precarious situation, just so you could advance your own stupid, harebrained, unprovable theories. You're fired, Joel—effective immediately.”

Joel took a deep breath. He'd known there was a good chance that his job, and quite possibly even his career, would end over this. He'd taken the precaution of cleaning his desk earlier, and he'd taken home a lot of data as well.

“Thank you for your support, Katherine,” he said, with all the irony he could muster. “There is nothing to gather. I'm happy to let your 'assistants' escort me directly to the door.” Katherine nodded stiffly. At the front door, the guards took Joel's badge and key card from him, and closed the door with a decisive click. He walked to his car with both determination and anger competing for his attention.

San Francisco, California, Earth April 30, 2011

By Saturday, there had been a veritable explosion of news, blog, and Twitter reports on the UFO sightings and the SETI connection. Marianne’s boss Chuck had apparently decided it was good publicity for the company to send a reporter the story. To her dismay, Marianne had become a minor celebrity. There had been a mountain of emails and phone calls, and she'd turned down more requests for interviews than she could count. When she heard the buzzer of her apartment ring, for an instant she feared it was another reporter. She pushed the intercom button, and said “hello” into it a couple of times. After a few moments of silence, she was relieved to hear Ja'el's familiar, melodic voice.

Marianne opened the door, and felt a warm feeling seeing Ja'el walk up the last few steps of the stairs to her apartment. Marianne opened the door wide to let Ja'el in. She went to sit down on Marianne’s couch. Marianne closed the door and joined her. Ja’el looked very serious, and had a very different demeanor from the previous week.

“The first thing I need you to promise me is that until I give you permission, you cannot tell anyone else what I am about to tell you. Not David, not Diana, not your mother, sister or father. No one must know right now. You are in the spotlight at the moment, which makes this all the more precarious.”

Marianne was only mildly surprised. It made perfect sense that Ja'el knew facts about Marianne that she hadn't told her. She had told Ja'el all about her family, and she probably had mentioned David, but she knew for sure she hadn't mentioned her friend and ex-lover Diana.

She nodded. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Ja'el continued, “If you don't believe me, you will never see me again, and there will be no evidence of my existence. Do you understand?”

Once Ja'el had walked into Marianne's apartment, and had spoken with such clarity and certainty, Marianne had known, finally, that Ja'el was completely sane, as well as being completely alien.

Marianne nodded. “Yes, I completely understand. Please explain.”

Ja'el took a deep breath, shifted on the couch, and started to tell the story. “It all started about five thousand years ago. I know about two of my very remote ancestors. Arak, my many-times great grandmother, came from an ancient land you call Sumer. Chan, my many-times great grandfather, came from what is now China, a small settlement that would become Beijing. Of course, under normal conditions, they would never have met each other.

But along with about ten thousand other people from all over Earth, Arak and Chan were kidnapped by an alien species we call the Tud'scla. The Tud'scla brought my ancestors to a number of planets, where they worked, and their populations grew. Over time, there were several revolts, and the Galactic Community learned of our slavery under the Tud'scla. After about two thousand years, and Galactic Community intervention, humans were finally freed. The Galactic community gave them an uninhabited planet to colonize. My ancestors named that planet Casiti. That is where I was born.”

“Wow. Why didn’t they come back here?”

“By then there were many of them, and it was felt that they had become too advanced, and too… different. They would have an effect on Earth that would be unpredictable. I know this must be difficult for you to believe.”

Marianne smiled. “No, it’s not. Actually, I figured out you were an alien last week. What I feel is mostly relief that you are human, too.”

Ja'el laughed. “I should have known you'd figure it out. It was so hard to not tell you last week.”

Marianne said, “So tell me more. What is this Galactic Community?”

“There is a lot to tell you... I’ll take this a step at a time. The Galactic Community is a very old civilization made up of 32 species. There are some species that have no representation, and are being restricted to their home planetary systems—including the Tud'scla.

“The galactic community watches many planets for the emergence of intelligent life—200 species are being watched for potential inclusion in the Community. Most of those are relatively primitive in development, like humans on Earth. Most of those species will not end up being members—they will either exterminate themselves, or never become civilized, and be restricted.”

“Humans on Earth are not what I’d call primitive—we’re civilized.”

Ja'el shook her head, and Marianne detected something in that motion that was both adamant and mysterious. “Earth Humans are not civilized as defined by the Galactic community. This has nothing to do with what kinds of machines you can invent, or what you can build. Of course, there is an intelligence threshold, but the most important factor is having the ability to form enduring, peaceful and sustainable communities that benefit all members of a society. In fact, there is just one species on Earth ready for membership in the Galactic Community at the present time.”

Marianne had to admit that she could see why the humans on Earth didn't meet that definition of “civilized,” so she was confused by Ja'el's last statement. “What species is that?”

“Bottlenose dolphins,” Ja'el answered, giving Marianne a moment to let that sink in.

Marianne was now trying to figure out why Ja’el was here in the first place. “So why are you here?”

Ja'el uncrossed her legs and took a sip of the orange juice Marianne had brought her.

“Basically, I'm here because the Sejo, the Casitian word for the Galactic Council, determined that it was time for the dolphins to become full citizens of the Galactic Community, and also for the branches of the human species to be reunited. My role is to facilitate the latter goal—bringing these two branches of humanity back together—in a way that also serves the former goal, Galactic enfranchisement for the dolphins.”

Marianne asked, “So, did you have anything to do with those ships that were sighted by the UFO folks two weeks ago?”

“Yes, those were ours. It was not intentional, but the fact that they were sighted—and the role you have already played—may end up being helpful to our cause in the long run.”

Marianne's was starting to feel dizzy as her brain started to put all the puzzle pieces together. There seemed to be some missing pieces, some things that Ja’el was not telling her, but most of it was making sense, now.

“So, why me?”

“Our research found you to be an ideal candidate,” Ja'el answered matter-of-factly. “We realized that you were likely to believe our story, and that you would be able to explain all of this to others in a manner that could help them to believe and understand it, too.”

And even as these thoughts swirled through her mind, Marianne was grappling with the realization that her life would never be the same. That chance meeting at the bar—which, of course, she now knew had been no chance at all—would change everything, not only for Marianne, but for all of the human beings on Earth.

Chapter 3: Contact

Moon Station, 103 Hevl, 780/April 30, 2011

Erit'ala emerged from her meditative state feeling relaxed and alert. Walking to the window, she spoke into the air, “Please determine location of Ja'el z Kadarin.”

A soft melodic voice of her AI replied, “In the presence of Relation One.” Erit'ala thought: Ja'el must be telling Marianne the story. She wondered how Marianne would react, and whether Ja'el could bring her to their aid.

Erit'ala was one of a team of ten Casitians who had spent the entire year on the planet Reit'al, or Earth. She recalled the many hours of joinings and discussions regarding which human should be their first contact relation. Many teachers thought that it was a mistake to choose someone from the United States, since that country's culture was so dominant. But Erit'ala and Ja'el had argued, not for the United States, but for Marianne. They had spent several weeks observing Marianne, and felt she was a very good candidate for contact, despite her culture of origin. She was highly sensitive, smart, open to new things, and was able to evaluate new concepts based on their merits. She didn't have a lot of intertwined family relationships, which would have made things more difficult. And she was connected to a variety of communities that would be important to the success of the mission. Interestingly, Erit'ala thought, Marianne was more Casitian than Terran in her personal qualities and orientation. She was eager to hear Ja'el's report.

Interstellar Vessel, 103 Hevl, 780/April 30, 2011

Silandra liked to look at the stars during the slow passage to the wormhole. Even though she intellectually understood why, it had always struck her as strange that it took days to get to the wormhole, and then just seconds to get to another system—even though that system might be tens, hundreds, or even thousands of light years away.

As she sat in the observation deck, looking at the constellations she'd learned over the years, she realized she wasn't likely to see them again for a while. By now, she knew, Ja'el would have told Marianne, their chosen “Relation One,” the whole story. She wondered what steps Marianne would suggest they take. They had worked out various tentative scenarios, each with apparent advantages and disadvantages. And despite their extensive observation of Earth, there was a great deal they still didn't understand.

Silandra's primary talent was in seeing large patterns, and her role was to help shape how to proceed based on those patterns. After the last report from Earth, she was concerned. The patterns which had emerged following the sightings of the ships were not encouraging. There seemed to be an effort on the part of some to discredit those who had seen the ships and those who had become aware of their signals. The SETI scientist who had first realized the significance of the signal had gotten fired, and most news stations had seized on this as evidence that SETI was futile, fraudulent, or both. It was hard for Silandra to understand the arrogance of these responses. The Earth humans—at least those who were in charge—seemed so certain of how the universe worked. Silandra suspected that the coming changes were going to be very difficult for such people.

Silandra was also troubled by some Earth humans' ways of assimilating new information. It wasn't just that they lacked knowledge; they seemed actively to resist it, to feel threatened by it. This cultural difference would make it very challenging to integrate Earth and Galactic humans. And since there were so many more Earth humans, the Caraj had become concerned that the Earth humans' ways of perceiving and responding could overwhelm those of the Galactic humans. It was going to be the Caraj's role, as the governing body of the human members of the Galactic Community, to make sure that all humans could peaceably coexist, and remain represented in the Galactic Council. The Sejo had made it completely clear that Earth human culture would not be allowed to be represented in the Galactic Community. If Earth human culture overwhelmed—or even unduly influenced—the culture of the Casitian humans, it was probable that the entire human species would be placed on a very long probation period, or perhaps even face restriction. Silandra sighed. She would have to work very hard indeed to ensure that this possibility was averted.

Silandra thought about the provisional species, which Earth humans called “dolphins.” Their culture was so different from that of the humans on Earth, even though they shared the same planet. It was such a shame that humans hadn't learned from Dolphins—in fact, the great majority didn’t seem to care in the slightest about the Dolphin's welfare.

The midday meal chime rang, and Silandra got up and left the dome, still musing. As she walked along the corridors to the dining hall, she couldn't help admiring the murals displayed along the walls. She knew they were early works of the revered painter, Ghe're z H'hult. It was amazing to see how much her work had changed over the years.

Interstellar Vessel, 103 Hevl, 780/April 30, 2011

Jal'end'a stopped dictating, because of the sound of the midday meal chime. Her stomach grumbled, as if to remind her that she'd missed the early meal. She got up, and made her way step by step to the common meal room. It had been a challenge to adapt to taking meals with others, having taken meals alone for so many years.

“Jal'end'a! Blessings on you.” She turned and saw Silandra approaching her in the corridor.

“Ah, hello Silandra, I'm glad to see you. I actually wanted to have a conversation with you sometime soon. I have some questions about Earth religions that you might be able to answer.”

Silandra laughed. “I would adore having a conversation with you, but I can't imagine that I can give you any information about Earth religions that you don't already know!”

Last summer, Jal’end’a had been asked by the Caraj to meet with spiritual teachers on Earth. She had done her homework, but was still mystified by the request. Jal'end'a was looking forward to talking with some of the religious teachers on Earth, such as Buddhists, Sufis, and those who studied the set of teachings called the Kabbalah. She thought that she could share some insights with those who called themselves Benedictines, perhaps the Jesuits as well. But she felt that she would have little to share with most religious teachers on Earth.

Jal'end'a was a contemplative—content to spend her life in solitude, supported by the community. Although she had questioned the wisdom of the Caraj teachers, she obeyed them, having lived under the support of the community for so many years.

Jal'end'a looked at Silandra. “Silandra, you are a seer of patterns, and I don't understand why people who are called 'fundamentalists' are so common in some places. I need to understand this better.”

Silandra stood for a moment, thinking. “Give me a few days, and I'll do some more research, and we'll have a joining about it then. I have given some thought to it, and I would love to share what I learn with you. Perhaps together we can solve the riddle.”

Jal'end'a smiled. She was grateful. Perhaps with different perspectives and approaches, she might be able to understand some of Earth's troubled religious landscape.

Jal’end’a hadn’t started out studying religions. Ever since she was a teenager, Jal'end'a had been on a search to understand the universe's origins. She had originally decided to study physics, and had been trained by some of the best teachers on Casiti. She had remained unsatisfied by the process of translation of texts written by the ancients, and the theoretical and experimental approaches to understanding what many thought of as the earliest moments of the universe.

The deeper Casitian physicists delved into the origins of the universe, the more they found the face of the divine. Some physicists were working to use their methodologies to understand the divine, as Jal'end'a's major teacher did. She had even begun to work with a number of other teachers in crafting theories that unified various fields of knowledge: from origins of the universe, lyre'es'gkin, theories of the mind and brain, and other phenomena.

In the end, Jal'end'a felt the call to go within herself, to sit, to contemplate, to connect deeply with the divine wisdom inside of her in order to understand the divine wisdom of creation. So she withdrew from science, requested permission to be supported by the community, and lived alone, in a small dwelling far from the city.

About two Casitian years later, she started to tell others what she was learning. She wrote several articles, and slowly, but surely, the demand for more and more writing came from many corners of the galaxy. She remembered the time that she got an official request to translate her work into the language of the Kwalloo, one of the oldest species in the Galactic Community. It wasn't the first time she'd gotten a request for permission to translate—but she was astonished that a species that was considered so wise wanted to read what she had to say. Slowly she got used to it, but it was sometimes still a surprise. She hoped that her wisdom would be of use here.

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 30, 2011

Marianne needed food. It seemed funny to want to eat after having a conversation that had shifted her entire perspective and world view, but on the other hand, cooking calmed her down, and helped her figure things out.

“Would you like to eat? Is there anything in particular that you like, or don't like? I remember that you're basically a vegetarian.”

Ja'el nodded. “Yes, we have something on Casiti that is a lot like your fish, but otherwise, we don’t eat any animals. I've tried a lot of Earth food, and like it a lot. Just go ahead and cook anything that comes to mind. I'm sure it will be fine.”

Marianne decided to make lasagna. She rooted around in her cabinets and refrigerator, and found, to her delight, that she had all the ingredients. She placed the noodles and tomato sauce on the counter. She would sauté onions, garlic and peppers to add to it, and blend ricotta, mozzarella and parmesan cheeses for the filling. She discovered that she even had some asiago cheese and fresh basil to add to it. That made her happy.

Ja'el got up. “Is there anything I can do?”

Marianne wondered about this. “Do you Casitians cook?”

Ja'el laughed. “Yes, we cook all the time. We don't have what you call 'restaurants.' So cooking is a necessity, but also, for many, it is an art. I am not one of those, but I am fairly good at it. Why don't I start with the chopping?”

Marianne nodded, and showed Ja'el where the cutting board and knives were, and she pointed out what parts of the vegetables to cut, and what parts to take out. As Ja'el was chopping, she asked, “Why is it that so many Earth humans don't cook? Why do people like to go out and have strangers cook for them? For us, when we're not in the mood to cook, we call a friend, or if it’s winter, we might switch off with our companion.”

Marianne looked at Ja'el. “What do you mean by 'companion'? Is that a spouse, or partner? Or something else, like a lover?”

Marianne could see Ja’el consider what she was about to say. “The Casitian way is very different than what I've learned is common on Earth. We do not have categories like 'spouse' or 'partner.' All we have are people we call our companions. And companions may remain together for different lengths of time, but often, especially when people are young, a companionship will generally last just one winter, or perhaps two in a row. Most people spend at least one half of a Casitian year without a companion.

“A few people do choose to have permanent companions. This is not at all frowned upon, especially as one gets older. But it is still very different from the Earth system. It seems as if on Earth, people are expected to choose permanent companions very young. And in most cases, those permanent companions are of the opposite sex. To us, this seems very odd.”

Marianne said, “I'm sure you know that we have a lot of divorces and 'breakups' in those allegedly 'permanent' companionships of ours. But are you saying that most people on Casiti are not heterosexual?”

Marianne saw Ja’el hesitate. “Most Casitians are what you would call bisexual. Some prefer companions of one sex or the other, but most of us have had companions of both sexes at some point in our lives.”

“So what about children?” Marianne asked. “I mean, where do they live if their parents are moving around from companion to companion? Isn't that unstable for them?”

“For one thing, most women have two or three children relatively early in their life. Some women choose never to have children, like me. But those who do, choose a man who they feel would be best suited to serve as a parent with them. Most often, that man has never been a companion. We have learned not to confuse these two roles, that of companions and of parents. We think that makes things much more difficult for children.

“Generally, the two parents live in communal houses of seven to ten families, all of whom are having children at the same time, so children really have many parents. These communities give us what you would call our 'last names.' All of the children are raised together, and when children reach puberty, they move out of the communal house and into youth communities. Two years later they are considered adults, and can begin to have children themselves, if they wish. Most adults are finished with child bearing and rearing at around age eight or what would around age 32, here.”

Marianne spent some time taking this in, as she took the chopped vegetables from Ja'el and started the sauté for the sauce. “Well, you're right that it's very different from our conventions. I have to admit I like it though. But it worries me.”

Ja'el looked up. “Why?”

Marianne felt pensive. “Well, I don't know if you know how polarized our society is around issues of 'morality.' People take very strong stands on things like sexuality and parenting here. Huge political battles are fought over these kinds of issues.”

Ja'el nodded. “Yes, we have observed that, and it is one of the things we found puzzling. Why would someone care so much about how another person wants to live, if they are happy? What is this 'morality' that makes people feel they can make choices not just for themselves, but also for others?”

Marianne laughed. “Well, I couldn't agree more! And fortunately, there are quite a few people who think as you and I do. Many people, especially in this country and in Europe, have an attitude of tolerance toward what they call ‘lifestyle choices.’ But there are also many religious people, both in the United States and in many other countries, who will react very strongly against the kinds of practices you have described. Tell me, what do you have in mind for the 'reintegration' of Casitian and Earth humans? Does it mean that Earth humans would have to adopt the Casitian ways of living?”

“Oh, no,” Ja'el answered quickly. “Casitians understand that there are many different cultures, and we respect people’s freedom to choose the ways they want to live—as long as those ways are not violent or harmful to others, of course. We expect that perhaps there will be some Earth humans who are drawn to our ways of life.”

Marianne pinched some herbs into her sauté pan along with the vegetables, then added the tomato sauce and stirred. “Well, it's good that you won't be imposing anything on Earth humans, as you call us. We're a pretty stubborn species.”

Ja'el nodded. “I know. But in fact, there are certain changes that will be imposed on the Earth. They don't have anything to do with sexuality or parenting, though. They have more to do with the environment, and its impact on the dolphins, as you call them. We will need your advice about how to introduce these changes in ways that do not generate so much resistance.”

Marianne placed the lasagna noodles into the pot of boiling water. “How much time do we have? I mean, when is it that we absolutely have to tell people about all this?”

Ja'el thought a moment. “It depends a little bit on how contact goes with the dolphins. I'd say that we have at least six months, but probably no more than nine months. Our activities with the dolphins will become more observable by Earth humans as time goes on. In addition, there are specific dangers to the dolphins' environment now, and the sooner those can be reversed, the better.”

Marianne heard something that disturbed her in Ja'el's voice, but she decided to let it go for now. The noodles were bubbling, so she turned the flame down under them.

“Okay. Here's what I'm thinking so far. I'm going to need a lot of help—a lot of advice and expertise from other people, who have information and knowledge that I don't have. So I think we should gather a small group of people who can keep a secret—kind of a preliminary team. Then that group can decide how to let the world know about your existence, and help implement whatever needs to happen after that. I hate to think of what our government would do with this information. The United Nations might be a better place to start, but I'm not sure. That's not really what I'm good at.”

Ja'el said matter-of-factly, “We know what you are good at, and we know that you will be able to help us. We have access to a great deal of technology that is currently unfamiliar to Earth humans. So, one way or another, we will make this work. Our concern is simply to minimize the chaos and disruption, and we know that it will take several generations before full integration can be achieved.”

Marianne felt like an abyss had opened up under her feet. She was slowly realizing that she was not only going to witness the end of her civilization as she'd known it - she was actually going to facilitate its demise. That was a good thing, in a way. It certainly was a civilization in need of change. But she was surprised by how sad she felt. And it was also quite daunting to imagine the political uproar and battles that would likely come about. She felt scared all of a sudden.

Ja'el reached out her hand and gently touched Marianne's forehead. Immediately, Marianne felt a deep sense of calm come over her. She looked at Ja'el in surprise.

Ja'el smiled. “Is there anything else I can do? I'm not familiar with what you are preparing.”

Marianne shook herself. “Yes, actually, you can help me assemble the lasagna. Basically, this is a dish made up of layers of noodles, sauce, and cheese. We put it together and then bake it in the oven.” They worked together in companionable silence for a little while.

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 30, 2011

David was working on Saturday again. He did have a big project deadline, but that wasn't really why he was working. He was working because he and Gerard were fighting.

David had been in love with Gerard since he interned at his office when he was in college, fifteen years before. At the time, Gerard had been a city supervisor, and David had found his passion and ambition inspiring, even though they disagreed bitterly on the issues. But that same ambition had turned out to be a disaster for their relationship as Gerard inched his way higher and higher on the political ladder. Gerard had been the only conservative supervisor, and had only gotten more conservative the higher up he got. He moved out of the city, officially, so that he could represent a more conservative district. He was in Congress now, and he was planning to run for president.

Of course, this meant that Gerard had to remain deeply in the closet. He actually lived with David much of the time, but his official address was an elegant McMansion in the outer suburbs that he shared with his wife—a woman who had agreed to marry him for her own reasons. David liked Juliana, but the farce was too much for him to bear. Gerard had made it very clear that he would never come out of the closet—his political ambition was the most important thing in his life. Yet he wanted David to stick around anyway.

David had finally come to the painful realization that he couldn't do it. He knew he would always love Gerard, but he simply couldn't remain in this kind of relationship. Their latest fight had been about Gerard's suspicion that David was seeing someone else on the side. Gerard had screamed obscenities at David, and had even struck him, something Gerard hadn't done in a long time. He hadn't even apologized for it yet.

Of course, it was a completely absurd accusation; David was completely devoted to Gerard, and Gerard knew that David would never cheat. But perhaps the real issue was Gerard's dawning awareness that David was going to leave. David hadn't said anything about it yet, but he knew he needed to soon, especially with this escalating anger from Gerard. His stomach knotted up at the thought.

He thought about calling Marianne. She was such a good listener, it usually made him feel better to talk to her. But talking to her would also force him to move forward, in a way he wasn't quite sure he was ready to do. So, for the moment, it was easier just to distract himself with work.

New York, New York, Earth, April 30, 2011

Diana groaned, and pulled the covers off of her body. It was four o'clock in the afternoon, and she was just waking up. The late-night negotiation sessions were really starting to take their toll. Of course, it was the best time to do virtual conferences with the Far East. But she wished they could compromise, every once in a while, and adapt their schedule to her time zone instead.

She thought about the most recent session, which had started at midnight and ended just after 7:00 a.m. They had been discussing the international treaties regarding the use of purse seine fishing nets. Through the effort of a great many people, most of the world's fishing industries had signed voluntary agreements to stop using those nets many years before. But recently, overfishing and global climate change had resulted in a decreased tuna harvest, causing many fishermen to revert to using the nets in an effort to boost their catch. This meant that large numbers of dolphins were again being killed by the tuna fishing industry.

As chair of the World Trade Organization Fisheries Subcommittee, Diana had been trying to cajole countries with the largest numbers of dolphin deaths to return to the safe methods. They had started with Japan and Taiwan. But Diana was not optimistic. The WTO lacked clout. They had no significant financial incentives to offer, and no fines to mete out on the other end. No carrots and no sticks. Consequently, even fishing fleets in the United States were starting to return to using the purse seine nets. Meanwhile, U.S. congress people were putting pressure on the WTO about their failure to enforce the signed agreements.

Diana felt demoralized. She had dedicated her entire adult working life to trying to create systems for sustainable fishing. She loved the international work, and she felt passionate about the cause. But lately it seemed as if all of her efforts were for naught.

Sighing, Diana got up. She had a few things to do this evening, and she knew she needed a shower to help her wake up. As she stepped into the hot, steamy water, she resolved to try to let it wash her discouragement away. Despair was an indulgence she simply couldn't afford.

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 30, 2011

The smell of baking lasagna filled Marianne's apartment as Ja'el and Marianne came back from their walk through Marianne's neighborhood. “Wow!” Ja'el said. “What wonderful smells!”

Marianne laughed. “Thank you. That's very sweet.” They set the table together, and sat down. “Do you say a blessing?” Ja'el asked.

“Sometimes. Usually only when I’m with other people who do.”

“Will you let me say a blessing?” Ja'el asked. “It might be a bit different than you expect—and the translations are not going to be exact.”

Marianne agreed. “Oh, yes. Please do.”

Ja'el paused, closed her eyes, and started. “We thank Creation for the nourishment here on the table, the efforts of Marianne's giftors, who grew it, and Marianne's effort in preparing it. May we remember where it, and where we, came from.”

“That was lovely,” Marianne said, as they started to eat. “But who are my 'giftors'? I didn’t understand that part.”

“On Casiti, each person either grows their own food, or, if they can't, they have food gifted to them by someone they know. All people go through time in adulthood when they cannot grow their own food -- pregnancy, sickness, old age. A few people never grow their own food because of infirmity, or other specific reasons. We understand this as normal. Everyone who grows food grows enough for the people who live with them, like their companion or children, and also some to be given as a gift to someone in need.”

“That's a very direct system, and it seems very thoughtful,” Marianne mused. “But isn't it also, well, inefficient? Here, one farmer can grow food for hundreds or even thousands of people. That leaves those people free to spend time doing other things.”

Ja'el shrugged. “Yes, your farming methods are in some ways more efficient, but efficiency is not everything—and that which is efficient in the short run is not always sustainable. We love growing food, having that connection to the land, and being fed by it. A lot of people here have gardens, right? We hope to encourage more people, even people who live in cities, to grow their own food.”

“Well, there may be a lot of resistance to that,” Marianne said. “For one thing, there are so many corporations that make money from the current agricultural system. There is a very big farmers' lobby in the government.” She thought for a minute. “Yes, I think the United Nations and other international organizations are the best place for us to start, rather than with the U.S. government. I actually know someone who will be able to help us here.”

“Diana?” Ja'el guessed. “We have actually been observing her, because she is an important person in terms of our work with the provisional species.”

Marianne was confused. “What do you mean? Diana's work involves international treaties within the fishing industry.”

“Yes, and many of those treaties are designed to protect dolphins,” said Ja'el. “Of course, Diana has been fighting—how do you call it?—a losing battle.”

Marianne nodded. “Of course, you're right.” It had been a while since she had spoken with Diana. The time difference made it difficult, and Diana was so busy. But when they did talk, they got into such long conversations that it felt as if no time had passed. And Diana was always the person Marianne went to when things got difficult.

“Okay,” said Marianne, getting up and going to her desk. “I think it's time to make a list of all the people we can ask to join our initial team.” Even as she spoke, she realized she was thinking of the team as “ours” - hers and Ja’el’s.

“I guess you already know all the people I'm close to, right?”

Ja'el nodded.

“Well, then you can tell me if I'm leaving anyone out. We want Diana, of course. I think we should also invite David, because I trust him, and he knows a lot about the political system. Also, David's friend Joel, the SETI scientist who got fired. He knows the scientific community, and his background may give him some extra credibility.” She thought a moment. “I also have an old friend named Laura Hernandez. She's the executive director of a large human rights organization—I think she could offer some good feedback about how people will react, and which nonprofit or nongovernmental organizations should be involved.”

“That sounds like a good start. Then maybe the preliminary group can figure who to bring in next.”

Marianne nodded. “So I guess the next step is to invite all of them to meet with you. But how can we prove your story to them? They trust me, but...”

Ja'el smiled. “Would a ride on a ship to the moon help? That's where we are all based.”

Marianne's eyes widened. “You're kidding, right?”

Ja'el shook her head. “No, I am not 'kidding' at all.”

Washington, DC, Earth, April 30, 2011

The remnants of her boss' reedy voice remained in Rita’s ear as she put down the phone. But that did not stop her jubilation. It had taken some wrangling, but she'd finally persuaded her boss at National Public Radio to assign her to interview Marianne Michelson. No reporter had yet succeeded in interviewing Marianne, who'd achieved instant fame through her involvement in the latest SETI scandal. Rita had been Marianne's roommate during their freshman year at MIT, so she hoped that would give her an in.

Like most of the press, Rita was convinced that the “case of the strange signal,” as it had come to be called, was merely a well-designed hoax. What she didn't know was whether Marianne herself was in on the hoax, or had actually been duped. She found it difficult to believe Marianne had been duped—she was intelligent enough to see through any but the most elaborate hoax. But Marianne was an honest person—in fact, Rita grimaced, she had been entirely too honest. Their brief friendship had ended late one evening, after a few rounds of Kahlua and cream in their dorm room, when Marianne had confided that she was a lesbian. That had made Rita so uncomfortable that she had put in for a room transfer the next morning. Except for a few awkward run-ins around campus, they hadn't seen each other since.

She was still hopeful that their old connection would make Marianne more likely to talk to her. If she succeeded, it would be her ticket to a bigger role, perhaps as an international correspondent. She had been working for years at this business, watching the profession go down the tubes in favor of independent bloggers and rogue news sources, while conventional journalists vied for fewer and fewer positions at fewer and fewer mainstream news organizations. She was ready for a leg up.

Rita immediately got online and arranged a flight to San Francisco, leaving the following day. On the Metro, heading home to Virginia, she wondered what Henry would have to say about this. He wasn't so keen on her building her career. He himself was interested in an anchor position on Fox News, and if he got it, he'd have to move to New York. He'd made it clear that he expected her to move with him, despite her career ambitions. She felt torn about this. On the one hand, his career was more important than hers on many counts. He was the man, he made more money, and he ultimately had more prospects for advancement. If they had children, she'd have to interrupt her own career anyway. She believed this was the right thing to do, yet she felt conflicted about it at the same time. The truth was, she loved being a journalist, and she wasn't eager to give it up.

Luckily, she hadn't gotten pregnant yet. But they had stopped using birth control, so she figured it was just a matter of time. And when it happened, that might be the end of her life as a journalist—at least for a while. Rita sighed. She hoped she could make a name for herself before then.

San Francisco, California, Earth, April 30, 2011

Ja'el and Marianne had talked until well after midnight. Finally, Marianne could no longer stifle a yawn. “It's late, Ja'el—would you like to stay? This couch folds out into a bed.”

Ja'el shook her head. “Thank you, Marianne. But it's actually very easy for me to get back home to the moon.”

Marianne raised her eyebrows. “Easy?”

Ja'el smiled. “Yes, easy. I come back and forth on a small shuttle. K'flef, my co-worker, hangs out down here, and can come to pick me up wherever I am. It's a quick trip. It takes less than one of your hours.”

Marianne said, wonderingly, “I can't believe you actually commute from the moon! I mean, I do believe you, but...”

“Yes, I can see why that sounds funny. The technology of Earth humans is still so cumbersome for space travel,” Ja'el agreed. “Casitians have the advantage of being able to access technology from the entire Galactic community, so our space travel is very easy and quick. You'll come up to the moon station sometime soon. It's quite nice.”

Marianne put her hand on Ja'el's arm. “Well, I don't know quite what to say. This has been the most amazing day of my life, I think. It will take some time to get used to all this, but it's been wonderful at the same time. When will I see you next?”

Ja'el gave Marianne a questioning look. “Well, it seems that your next task is to assemble this preliminary team, and arrange a meeting with them. Tell me when you've scheduled the meeting, and I'll be there.”

Marianne felt a little disappointed. She hoped it didn't show. “But don't we have a lot to talk about? Won't I see you before then?”

Ja'el shook her head. “I don't think that is really necessary. Do you?”

Marianne grew quiet. “No, it isn't. I guess I just ... oh, never mind. How should I contact you when I've set the meeting up?”

Ja'el reached into her shirt pocket and removed a small, slim box that was gunmetal gray. It had what looked like a tiny LCD display that was dark. Handing the box to Marianne, she pointed to a small, slightly recessed red circle under the display. “Run your finger over it,” she instructed. Marianne expected the display to light up, but instead, after a pause, a three-dimensional person of about 1/10 size showed up above her palm, speaking in a very heavy accent.

“Hi, I'm K'flef. Later, when use this, Ja’el will answer.”

“Hello, K'flef. I'm Marianne. Can you see and hear me?”

“Yes, yust fine,” K'flef answered, and then disappeared.

“Well, if I still needed any proof, I guess you've just given it to me! That was amazing.” Marianne looked at Ja'el. “I see what you mean about the Galactic technology. I can't wait to see what else you're able to do.”

Ja'el got up. “Thank you for... dinner. It was delicious.”

Marianne walked Ja'el to the door. She had a question on her mind, but didn't know if she should ask it. She decided it wasn't the right time.

Ja'el placed her hand briefly on Marianne's arm, and again, a feeling of calm and ease entered Marianne. Then Ja'el opened the door. “Good night, Marianne.”

“Good night, Ja'el,” Marianne echoed softly, closing the door. She wondered whether there would ever be a right time.

Sol Station 106 Hevl, 780

Silandra was in a reclined position on her bunk in the small cabin she had been assigned to on the transport ship. She had been in this ship for several days, and was getting used to living in such a small space. She was flicking through the most recent reports from the moon station looking at the AI's initial analyses of the current status of the contact with humans.

She felt a slight change in the ambient sounds in the ship, and a dulcet voice announced from somewhere above her head that they had arrived at Sol Station. She rose, quickly gathered her things into her travel bag, and entered the hallway. She walked toward the docking ring, where the transport ship joined the station. There were a few others also walking through the corridor with her. She greeted several that she knew.

She lined up with the others in the main corridor of the transport ship, taking a last appreciative look at the murals on the walls as she did so. They were so beautiful—they reminded her of home.

“Are you ready to meet some Earth humans?” A voice stirred her out of her reverie. She turned to find Re'il standing next to her. Re'il was a mining specialist who was on his way to the moon for a different project. He had been given the task of overseeing mining operations on the moon, to provide the moon station with the raw materials it needed to be self-sustaining. She hadn't seen much of him during their passage to the station.

Silandra said, “Yes, Re'il, I am. It should be quite interesting. I'm looking forward to it.”

Re'il frowned. “I'm not sure you'll like what you find. I've been watching reports from their television, and...”

Silandra knew what was coming. She'd heard quite a few similar sentiments expressed on Casiti.

“Re'il, as a culture, they do have problems. But we have had many advantages from our association with the Galactic community, and it's time for us to share those with them, and help them advance. We're all the same species, after all.”

Re'il frowned again. “Well, I wish you the best. Better you than me, if you don't mind my saying so.” As the dock doors opened, he turned away from Silandra, and joined the line of people who had begun to filter out of the corridor, through to the station.

Silandra was troubled. People like Re'il didn't seem to realize that by being intolerant, they were actually displaying the same qualities they disparaged in Earth humans.

As she walked through the docking ring and into the central corridor of the station, she enjoyed the paintings and sculptures she saw along the way. She remembered that there had been a controversy when a group of Casitian artists had proposed that half of the walls and spaces in the Human parts station be reserved for Earth artists' work. The station staff hadn’t wanted to have to live with walls without any art. So they had reached a compromise, concentrating the empty corridors in areas that were not going to be used much until the station was in full operation.

The station had a huge capacity, but only a very few ships were docked now. If everything went as planned, though, this station was projected to become a major way station for Galactic commerce. Most space stations were bustling places, with dozens of ships, hundreds of staff and thousands of visitors from many species. Fully half of the station was designed for dolphin habitation. It had corridors and open spaces almost filled with sea water. It was strange how deserted Sol Station was, but, Silandra thought, it was actually quite peaceful, too.

Silandra noticed a tall, lanky man looking at her. She guessed he must be her escort to the moon. “W'ren?” The man moved toward her, nodding.

“Hello, Silandra.” He held out his arm to her, and they exchanged the clasped arm embrace. “It's wonderful to meet you. I've heard so much about your work,” Silandra told him. W'ren was a pilot, who was also becoming known as a talented planetary specialist. He had written what many Casitians considered a brilliant plan to make Mars more habitable for human beings. He had made it his personal project to learn as much as possible about other, similar planets that had been made habitable by Galactic civilizations, a process that Earth humans would call “terraforming.”

“Likewise.” W'ren grinned back at her.

“Are we ready to go to the moon? How long will it take?”

“It's about a four day trip” W'ren answered. “We just finished refueling, and restocking the stores. Once we gather up all the passengers, we'll be ready to go.”

Chapter 4: Plans

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 1, 2011

Marianne had intended to go straight to bed when Ja'el left, but she quickly realized she was far too excited to sleep. So instead she sat on her couch, laptop on her lap, and started to write a series of emails. Quick notes, really—four of them, to David, Diana, Joel, and Laura Hernandez. The ones to David and Joel were easy; she knew they'd agree to come to a meeting about the “ramifications of the SETI signal and UFO sightings,” even if they weren't sure why Marianne was setting it up. It would be harder to get Diana to come, especially given her schedule, and the fact that it would involve a cross-country flight. But Marianne knew that if she said it was urgent, Diana would come no matter what. Marianne also stressed in the email that even though she couldn't provide details right now, the meeting was highly relevant to Diana's work.

The email to Laura Hernandez was the most difficult. Marianne had known Laura since high school, where they had bonded because they were two of the only non-white students in the class. She knew Laura trusted her, but they hadn't been much in contact in the last few years. And it was hard to explain to Laura why she should come to a meeting to talk about SETI and UFOs. Marianne crafted the message carefully, implying that the meeting was far more important than she could safely say in an email. She expected that Laura would call her before committing to flying to California.

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 2, 2011

Uncharacteristically, Marianne hadn't checked her email all day on Sunday. After the late night with Ja'el on Saturday, she'd given herself a break, knowing she needed time to rest and prepare herself. She'd spent Sunday walking along her favorite trail on a cliff high above the Pacific Ocean. By Monday morning when she arrived at work, she was looking forward to reading responses from Laura, Diana and Joel.

She was surprised on most counts. Laura and Diana both agreed to fly out for the meeting, and had surprisingly few questions for her. Joel, on the other hand, was suspicious. He'd written back that he believed Marianne was “overstepping her bounds” and moving into his territory, and that he felt it would not be “worth his while” to attend the meeting she had called.

Marianne was pondering how to respond to this email when David poked his head into her cubicle and said, “Yes, totally, count me in. Sounds fascinating.”

“Oh, it's so great to see you, David!” Marianne actually hadn't realized until that moment just how wonderful it would feel to see her old friend. She felt like at least a year had passed since the previous Friday. “I knew I could count on you. But can you talk to Joel? His feathers are ruffled and he's refusing to join us. I'd really like him to be in on this, and once he knows what's happening, he'll be glad to be included. I wish I could tell you more, but I have to wait until we're all together.”

“Well, aren't you the mysterious one,” David teased. “Well, I'll tell Joel that I've got no idea what's going on, but that you must have some good reason up your sleeve. And better he should hear it from you than read about it later in the tabloids, no?”

“Thanks, David,” Marianne said gratefully. “I can't tell you how glad I am that you're going to be part of this.”

“No problem, glad to oblige.”

Marianne looked at David. She noticed, finally, his haggard face and worried look.

“Are you OK? You look tired. What's happening?”

David hesitated before saying anything.

“I'm OK, Marianne. Gerard and I...”

She frowned, but then immediately regretted it, and said, “What's going on between you? I know how much you love him.”

“He's getting paranoid and angry. He's afraid that I'm seeing someone else. The truth is, I don't think I can live with him anymore.”

“Have you told him?”

“No, not yet, but I know I need to soon. I've started to look for places to live.”

“You know you can always stay with me if you need to!”

David nodded. “I know. Thanks. I need to get back to work.”

As he walked away from her cube, Marianne could see the effect this was having on him, and worried.

Sol Station, 110 Hevl, 780

Silandra heard the light bell of the door chime ring, and she got up from her desk and opened the door, to see Jal'end'a standing before it.

“Please, come in, Jal'end'a. I have been looking forward to this joining.”

Jal'end'a smiled. “Thank you so much for helping me understand this. The religious landscape of Earth has been somewhat of a mystery to me.”

“Well, Jal'end'a, my hope is that you'll be able to meet with people from Earth. I expect that the religious communities of Earth are the ones that might have the most trouble with the existence of other species.”

Jal'end'a nodded. “Yes, I think that is so. So what have you learned about the United States?”

Silandra frowned. “It's a very strange place. Yes, it is one of the countries where science is the most advanced—but as you know, its science of a somewhat different sort—it sees itself as an opposition to the religions of the country.”

“Well, I imagine that makes sense, given the almost enforced ignorance of many of the religions. How could anyone actually suggest that the Earth is only a few thousand years old?”

Silandra looked at Jal'end'a. “Well, I understand, actually. I did find some very interesting writings about very religious people in that country. And I read some of what they'd written, and I've read a wide variety of other things. I’ve also had my AI do a bit of research, and I have an interesting conclusion—one that makes a lot of sense. These very religious people are responding to some of the same things that we find problematic about Earth culture—they are looking for a sense of meaning—and the culture is not providing it for them, so they are defining it for themselves.”

“But the way they are responding...”

“Yes, yes, it's far from appropriate. But given historical trends, and the cultural environment in part of the United States, it makes sense.”

Silandra said, “Have a look at some of these interaction charts that my AI has developed, based on our research.”

Jal'end'a and Silandra spent the next few hours talking about patterns in religions on Earth, until it seemed to Silandra that Jal'end'a understood better what was happening. Jal’end’a finally said, “Ah, Silandra, I think I've taken in all that I can—but I feel much more comfortable with what I understand about Earth, and religion, and more about their science, too. I'm really looking forward to talking with some of their religious teachers. Blessings for the time you've spent helping me with this.”

Silandra smiled, “I am happy to help, and so glad that you are here. I'm looking forward to hearing what happens when you meet with teachers.”

Jal'end'a got up, looking a bit tired, and they shared a hug. Jal'end'a left, and Silandra decided that it might be a good time to sit in meditation, before the next meal.

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 25, 2011

Marianne woke early, as the first rays of sunshine came through her window. She was happy the day was starting out sunny, not the foggy usual. She could hear the city morning beginning outside, people chattering in the street, trucks honking. She had a lot to do, but the truth was, she couldn't stop thinking about Ja'el. She kept remembering Ja'el's touch on her forehead, or the time that Ja'el had touched her hand briefly at dinner. She had felt such calm and peace from Ja'el's touch, yet there was also a tingle or spark at the same time. She sighed. Now more than ever, it seemed so unlikely that anything would be possible between then. This time she hadn't found someone with Borderline Personality Disorder, just someone from a different solar system! David was going to laugh when she finally told him.

It was no use lying in bed any more, she realized. She was fully awake. So she gave in, sat up in bed, and opened up her laptop to start in on the day's planning. The meeting would be held at her place. She planned to start right in by introducing Ja'el, and having Ja'el tell her story. She thought about each member of the group, and how they might react. Joel had finally agreed to meet with them, but Marianne felt wary. She was worried that he would try to take over. It was true that he was the only scientist on the team, and the person who'd identified the initial signal. But he also stood to gain more than the rest of them, since there was a good chance that the information at the meeting would save his career from ruin. She hoped that David could help keep him in line long enough for Joel to make a considered response, at least.

Marianne's best guess at this point was that the initial team she had called together—David, Diana, Laura, Joel and herself—would continue to meet until they could assemble a bigger team, with perhaps as many as twenty people working on multiple committees. Then that larger team would create the plan for introducing the Galactic humans to the Earth human world. It was going to be quite an intricate process. She hoped that everyone would be able to commit substantial time and energy to the endeavor, but she wasn't sure quite how that might happen. After all, she knew there was still rent to pay, and food to buy. But perhaps Ja'el could offer some assistance. She seemed to have substantial resources at her disposal, though they weren't Earth resources. Anyway, Marianne thought that developing and implementing a detailed plan would be key for averting chaos—the kind of chaos that could ensue if the news broke too early, and they lost control of the process.

Marianne had no idea what would happen to her after the news broke. There would no longer be any need for a space program, obviously, so she assumed she'd be out of a job. Maybe the Casitians needed software developers? Marianne doubted it. She would have to find some other line of work, eventually. David would be in the same boat, as would a lot of other people. Once again, Marianne was sobered by the ramifications of what was going to take place. But she knew she couldn't let herself go too far down that road. She needed to maintain her focus on the immediate future.

San Jose, California, Earth, May 27, 2011

“Current temperature in San Jose, 82 degrees. Watch that 101 going north. Expect twenty to thirty minute delays due to construction.” The clock radio blared in Joel's ears, and he lunged for the snooze button, then turned over and groaned. Waking up was always the worst part. When he woke up, he remembered he didn't have a job to go to, or a career to care about. He could sleep as long as he wanted, and it wouldn't matter. But he couldn't give in to that. He needed to figure out a way to get back into some kind of research, even if it was as a technician. He'd work his way back up in another field. He'd leave SETI behind, and never touch it again.

Then he remembered the meeting he was supposed to go to the next day. He had been livid when he got the email from Marianne. For one thing, he hadn't forgiven her for copying other people on that email about the signal, instead of just sending it to him. Her careless move had cost him his job. And then on top of that she had the temerity to call a meeting about the UFOs, when he was the one who'd identified the signal, and his friend Dwight was the one who knew the most about the UFO sightings. Who did she think she was? But David seemed to think it was important, and had intimated that maybe there'd even be a way to save his career. Joel had no such hopes. At this point he believed the signal and sightings were real, but it didn't matter. It was going to be impossible to prove that to the people who mattered, who held the SETI research purse strings. So why bother? But he figured he'd go to the damned meeting, explain to them how wrong they all were, excuse himself, and then keep trying to find a job. He rolled out of bed and made his way toward the shower, hoping the hot water would help improve his mood.

After the shower, he decided to see if Dwight was around. He figured if Marianne knew something, Dwight probably knew more. He sat down, clicked on “Available” on his IM client, and saw Dwight was awake.

“Hey Dwight, I have a question for you.”

There was a pause, then a beep. “What?”

“Has there been any more activity or chatter around those sightings, or the SETI signal?”

Dwight replied, “Well, I've heard some reports about other sightings, but they're pretty spotty and unreliable. Otherwise, no chatter. Why? What's up?”

Joel typed, “Just checking. Marianne Michaelson invited me to some mysterious meeting about all this, so I wondered what you knew about it.”

Dwight's words appeared after a short pause. “Hmm, I don't know. Write me about it afterward, okay? I think there are a lot of people who are interested.”

“No problem,” Joel typed. “I'll keep you posted. The meeting is tomorrow.”

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 27, 2011—7:10 a.m.

Rita got out of her rental car and stood in front of Marianne’s building, deciding if it were too early to try and ring the bell. All of a sudden, a tall woman with a short afro that Rita recognized as Marianne walked out of the door. Rita intercepted her.

“Hi Marianne.”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“I'm Rita, from MIT. Remember me?”

Marianne’s lips thinned. “Rita,” she said in a polite, but strained manner, “What are you doing here?”

“I've been assigned to interview you. I just need a few minutes of your time.”

Marianne looked surprised. “What? You're a journalist?”

Rita nodded. “I work for NPR, primarily for 'All Things Considered.' I'd really appreciate it if you could help me out.”

“Excuse me?” Marianne’s tone was no longer polite. “And just why would I want to do that?”

“We were friends,” Rita said. “An interview with you would really help my career. And it's no skin off your back. I just need a few minutes.”

Marianne shook her head. “First of all, I'm in a hurry. Second of all, I haven't granted a single interview, nor do I intend to—at least not for the foreseeable future. And third of all, yes, we were friends—until you dumped me after I came out to you. What kind of friendship is that?”

“You're right,” Rita said, somewhat insincerely. “I was young, I was naïve. I'm sorry. So can you just give me a few minutes?”

“I already told you, I'm not giving interviews—to anyone. And if and when I do, you'll be last in line. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get to work.” Marianne pushed past Rita and walked toward the BART station.

Something in Marianne's manner had alerted Rita. Yes, Marianne was angry at her, and clearly didn't want to talk to the press. Rita had gotten the definite impression that there was also something she was hiding. She decided that a stakeout would be a good idea. She had always wanted to do one, and she got a little thrill at the idea of a real investigation. She resigned herself to the fact that she probably wouldn't get an interview, but she might get something else instead—something she could use in a report.

She decided to return in the early evening. Arriving early, she parked her car directly across the street from Marianne's lobby and took out her binoculars. Yes, she could see which buttons people pushed on the door. She got out her laptop and camera, and started her wait.

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 27, 2011—5:50 p.m.

Marianne inched the Zipcar slowly up until she was right next to the Jet Blue sign outside the airport terminal. She spotted Diana's short gray hair and conservative suit, and honked, then opened her door and stepped out, smiling.

“Diana! It's so good to see you.” Marianne felt the familiar feel of Diana's body as it folded into hers for a hug.

“Oh, Marianne, it’s great to see you too. I just wish I wasn't so exhausted.” They pulled apart, and Marianne lifted Diana's bags into the trunk, then started the slow drive back to her apartment.

“So what's going on?” Marianne asked, as soon as they were back on the freeway. “Pulling all-nighters again?”

“Yep,” Diana admitted. “It's been a hell of a few weeks. We're in a crisis over tuna.”

“Tuna?”

“Well, purse seine fishing, to be exact. Do you remember the whole dolphin-safe tuna issue?”

Marianne nodded.

“Well, it's back. These days, because of global warming, the tuna are scarce. So to try to up their yields the fleets are going back to old techniques—which net them more tuna, but also kill dolphins in the process.”

“Oh, no! They're killing dolphins?” Marianne was horrified.

Diana looked puzzled. “Yes, it's terrible. But I never knew you cared so much about that.”

Marianne caught herself. “Well, a lot has changed. I can't explain it now, but you'll understand after tomorrow's meeting.”

Diana shrugged. “I'll wait with bated breath, mystery woman. I know you wouldn't drag me out here for nothing, after all.”

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 28, 2011

Everything was ready. Marianne had set out some snacks, juice and coffee on the table. She figured everyone would bring their laptops, but she even had some pens and paper available, just in case. Diana was awake, but resting in the bedroom. The buzzer rang.

“Hello, it's Ja'el.” Marianne felt a thrill when she heard Ja'el's melodic voice. “Great, come on up,” she said, pushing the button. She was glad Ja'el had arrived first.

“Marianne, it's so good to see you,” Ja'el said warmly as she reached the doorway, holding her arms open for a hug. Marianne moved into her embrace, but felt herself stiffen at the same time. She'd waited so long to hug Ja'el again, and now she'd ruined it by being self-conscious. She saw Ja'el's puzzled look, and said quickly, “Diana's here, but she's in the bedroom. Apart from her, you're the first to arrive.”

“Good, I'd hoped so. I wanted to tell you a few things before everyone else gets here.” Marianne nodded, and they sat down on the couch.

Ja'el began, “Our team is in place now, and ready to work. Silandra, a specialist in pattern recognition, arrived at the moon station last week, as did Jal'end'a, a contemplative, and specialist in religious and spiritual issues. They will be part of the group that will have joinings with your group, to help move the process along.”

“Joinings?” Marianne asked.

“Hmmm, it might be an odd translation. It means a gathering of people for a specific purpose, to listen to each other, and come to consensus.”

“Oh, you mean a meeting. Although for us, a meeting doesn't necessarily mean consensus. It could mean the boss decides what to do anyway.” Marianne grinned, but Ja'el looked very serious.

“Well, by consensus I mean that everyone agrees on the outcome, or at least agrees to go along with it.”

“It's very rare that people work by consensus on Earth,” Marianne explained. “In the old activist days people used to do that sort of thing, but it took forever. No one does it now.”

“It is imperative that your group work by consensus,” Ja'el said firmly. “We take that very seriously. Your team must operate in the same way a Casitian team would operate.”

The bedroom door opened and Diana emerged, looking a bit more rested. “Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Marianne greeted her. “Diana, I'd like you to meet our guest of honor this evening. Her name is Ja'el. Ja’el, this is Diana Westinghouse.” Diana reached out her hand, and Ja'el shook it, looking a little uncomfortable.

“It's nice to meet you, Diana.”

“It's nice to meet you, too, Ja'el..?” Diana hesitated. “And what is your last name?”

Ja'el said, “I don't really have a last name, but my full name is Ja'el z Kadarin. Kadarin is the name my family group chose for themselves.”

Diana looked puzzled. “That's all part of what we'll be talking about,” Marianne reassured her, just as the bell rang again. “I'll bet that's David.”

Everyone arrived quickly after that. Soon David, Joel, Laura, Diana, Ja'el and Marianne had settled into Marianne's living room, munching on food and sipping drinks. Finally, Marianne decided it was time to start things going.

“Hello everyone, and thank you for coming. Without further ado, I'd like to have you hear from Ja'el. She's the real reason I've invited you here.”

Joel's face clouded with suspicion. “What do you mean? I thought this was about SETI and the UFO sightings?”

“It is, Joel. Please be patient. It will all make much more sense in a little while.”

Ja'el got up from her seat.

“The story I am going to tell you will be hard for you to believe. I can also say that it will go much better for everyone if you can keep this a secret until you are ready to release it to the rest of the world in a planned manner. It all began about 5,000 years ago...” Ja'el repeated the story she'd told Marianne, with a little more detail. At the end she explained the source of the SETI signal, and the UFO sightings. She also explained how Marianne had been chosen to serve as first contact.

Laura was the first to speak. “Wow. This all helps me make sense of some of the strange incident reports I'd been getting.”

Joel was shaking his head. “What is this, a practical joke?” He looked impatiently around the room. “Do the rest of you really believe this crock? There's no such thing as interstellar flight. Most of what this woman is saying is completely impossible. You science fiction nuts can sit around and entertain each other, but I don't have time for this.” He stood up and reached for his laptop.

David stood up, too, using the calming tone Marianne knew so well. “Hold on a minute, Joel. I know this all sounds a little farfetched, but it does fit a lot of pieces together.”

Joel sat back down, looking fiercely at Ja'el. “Okay, then. If you want me on your team, I need proof. Unequivocal proof.”

Ja'el nodded. “I expected that some of you would want that. I have a plan. Would you be willing to take a short trip?”

“A trip?”

“Yes, a trip to the moon station,” Ja'el said matter-of-factly. “Would that provide the proof you need?”

Marianne could see Joel gulp. She wondered if he hated flying.

“How long will it take?”

Ja'el smiled. “We'll be back before midnight.”

David's eyebrows went up. Laura said “Um, I think I'll wait here, if you don't mind. I mean, I believe you, and I'm sure it would be very interesting, but I don't want to get sick. I get sea sick, air sick, car sick...”

“I guarantee you won't get sick,” Ja'el reassured her. “Will you come with us, please?”

Laura looked doubtful, but said “Okay, I'll come.” Marianne looked questioningly toward Diana, who nodded.

“Let's go, then,” Ja'el said briskly. She walked toward the door, opened it, and walked out. Everyone else followed her as she left the apartment building and crossed the street, heading into the park. “This way, just follow me.” As Ja'el walked forward, a rounded entryway suddenly appeared. “Just come this way,” Ja'el repeated, entering it. Marianne went last, and as soon as she walked through the doorway, it closed behind her.

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 28, 2011

Watching from her car, Rita had seen Marianne and Diana arrive in the evening the night before. She had stayed for several hours more, finally going back to her hotel to sleep. Rising early the next morning, she stationed herself in the same spot once again. She figured she had hit pay dirt when she watched four people, two men and two women, arrive one by one. Using her binoculars, she confirmed that each of them rang bell number 5—Marianne's bell—and were then admitted. She snapped photos of each of them, hoping she'd be able to find out who they were. One of the women was particularly interesting-looking, and one of the men looked familiar to her—she thought she recalled having seen him at a fundraiser for the conservative rising star politician, Gerard Hopkinson.

Over two hours went by without further activity, and she was beginning to consider a break for lunch. After all, maybe all those people would remain in Marianne's apartment all day, and even the finest stake-out reporters had to eat. So she almost missed the moment that would forever ensure her fame. Suddenly, one by one, the entire group emerged from Marianne's apartment building, with the strange-looking multiracial woman—Rita was most curious to find out who she was—in the lead. Rita snapped more photos of them as they crossed the street. They were oddly silent, almost as if they were on some sort of mission, she thought. She watched as they entered the park, curious about what would come next.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a dark oblong narrow door appeared. Rita blinked. She'd seen that same spot between the trees before, and there had been nothing there. What she was seeing made no sense to her. The strange-looking woman went first, opening the door of the oblong and walking directly in. Each of the others followed, with Marianne last. On auto-pilot now, Rita snapped photo after photo. Then, as strangely and silently as it had appeared, the dark oblong and all of its passengers were gone, leaving only a brief, strong wind which ruffled the leaves and let her know she hadn't imagined the whole thing.

Rita's adrenaline surged. It was the finest moment of her career. She crossed herself, and then, to her own surprise, she actually kissed her camera. She had no idea what she had just seen, yet she knew she had captured it for the eyes of the world. She couldn't wait to get back to Washington and show her treasures to the NPR science advisor.

Moon station, 137 Hevl, 780/May 28, 2011

They found themselves in a small corridor, lit dimly by some light from above. There were murals on both sides of the corridor. They were filled with pictures of snow and ice, mountains, and multiracial people. Marianne wondered if these were images of Casiti. Ja'el kept walking forward until another door opened, and, as each one followed her, they found themselves in a larger area, with comfortable-looking seats and rows of windows. They were still in the park—they could see it through the glass.

“How did you do this? How did you hide this ship?” David asked.

“It's a mirroring device,” Ja'el answered. “I don't really understand exactly how it works, since I'm not an engineer. From what I understand, the coating of the ship is actually a display - mirroring the environment around it. But we try not to stay in any one place for too long, because the ship is solid, so people could bump into the ship. Please, everyone, sit down.” Ja'el took the seat next to a woman who had similar coloring to her own, but was shorter and stockier.

“This is Rew'l, our pilot today. Rew'l, this is Marianne, David, Joel, Laura and Diana.”

“Welcome,” said Rew'l. “We have no—what is it you said, Ja'el? We have no carbonated beverages or peanuts to offer you. But please make yourselves comfortable.”

The scene outside the ship began to change, and Marianne realized they were in the air. But it was almost like a movie—she couldn't feel the motion.

“Laura, if you start getting nauseous, let me know,” Ja'el offered. “But the flight is very stabilized, so I doubt you will be bothered by it.”

The spaceship built up speed and flew relatively close to the ground for a while, until it was over the open ocean. Then something changed, and suddenly it seemed to shoot up into the sky. The sky quickly went from being blue to being completely dark and lit with stars.

“So that's how you avoid radar,” David mused. “You just fly underneath it until you get out beyond the land-based radar, then go straight up. Our systems wouldn't catch that at all.”

Rew'l nodded. The ship began to rotate, and Marianne could see a part of the Earth out of the rear windows of the craft. She realized that she was not weightless—they must have artificial gravity.

Diana said, “Wow!”

Ja'el looked meaningfully at Joel. “If you aren't convinced yet, there is far more to come.”

The moon swung into view as they orbited around the Earth. Rew'l adjusted direction, and began to fly directly toward it. The Earth got slowly smaller and smaller behind them, and the moon became larger and larger. In about half an hour, they were moving toward the dark side of the moon. Marianne felt the ship change its angle, and knew they were getting close to landing. Their only view now was of the distant Earth, and many bright stars. It reminded Marianne of “Earthrise,” that classic image from one of the old Apollo missions, which she kept on the wall in her cubicle. It reminded her of why she did the work she did. As a child she had fantasized about becoming an astronaut, but she had long ago given up that dream, so she had never expected to be in space. Now she tried to contain her amazement. She was about to walk on the moon!

There was a tiny bump, and Marianne heard some sounds which appeared to come from outside. Rew'l explained, “That's the docking equipment engaging. We are docked, and ready to disembark onto moon station.”

Laura and Diana were giddy. David was silent, swiveling around to take everything in and occasionally giving a long, low whistle.

“Well, Joel?” asked Marianne teasingly. “What do you think?”

“I really don't know what to think,” Joel acknowledged. “I'm sorry, Marianne. I really thought it was a hoax. Now I'm starting to wonder if I'm dreaming instead. This is way beyond any technology I've ever heard of. If I'm awake, then I guess” -- he indicated Ja'el with a nod -- “the lady's story must be real. In that case, I owe all of you an apology.” He pinched his arm a few times as he spoke.

Ja'el shrugged. “I have no—what is that phrase, Marianne? My feelings are not hard.”

Marianne laughed. “She means she has no hard feelings. And neither do I. I knew this would be hard to believe, and I'm grateful to all of you for trusting me enough to come this far.”

Ja'el motioned the group back toward the door they had come in through. “Well, how about I give you a tour of my current home?” They followed her back through the narrow mural-lined corridor, then out into a larger corridor, where a tall, very thin woman with curly white hair was waiting. Like Ja'el and Rew'l, she had light brown skin and what appeared to be multiracial features.

“My name is Erit'ala,” she greeted them. “I am Ja'el's teacher, and the person responsible for the reunification program. Welcome to our moon station.”

“Ja'el's teacher?” Marianne asked with surprise. “Is she just a student?”

Erit'ala laughed. “No, no, sorry. It is a translation that is not exact. In our culture, there are some we call 'teachers.' I believe you might use the word 'supervisors,' because they 'supervise' or 'oversee' the work of others. But we do not like those English words, because the relationship between such people is more like the relationship between teachers and students in your culture. It is our role as teachers to facilitate the process for which we are responsible, while at the same time fostering the continued learning and development of the people we 'teach.' Does that help you understand?”

Marianne nodded. “Yes, that actually makes a lot of sense to me, although that’s rarely how it works for us.”

“There are many strengths which your culture has yet to develop,” Erit'ala commented gently.

Marianne nodded. “That's for sure. Sometimes it seems overwhelming, and I wonder whether people on Earth will really change.”

Erit'ala nodded. “Yes, they will. It will be gradual. But people like you will be of great help in the process.” She began walking down the corridor. “Let's start the tour, shall we?”

“This station was designed primarily to be the home base for Galactic humans who were making contact with the provisional species—those you call the 'dolphins'—as well as those, like myself and Ja'el, who are responsible for the reunification of the human species. It is largely made up of individual living quarters like this one.” She turned, and slid what looked like a standard pocket door aside. “Please, come in. This is currently unoccupied, but will allow you to see what the living quarters are like.

The group filed into the room, which was surprisingly spacious. The walls were painted a beautiful muted lavender, and there was a good-sized bed, a spacious area with pillows and a small low table, and another area with a medium-sized desk. There were also two comfortable chairs, and another small table nearby. The feeling was simple, yet so comfortable and well-designed that it gave the impression of luxury.

“Is this the living quarters for two, or someone special?” asked David.

“No, this is standard,” Ja'el replied. “My quarters are exactly this size. Two people who wish to live together are given a suite.”

“This is beautiful,” Marianne said. “I think we've all gotten our ideas about these kinds of spaces from science fiction, where everything was so cramped. And even now, in real life, the EU Space Station is very small.”

Erit'ala nodded. “Earth humans have lacked the technology to create these kinds of living areas in space. But for us, we have found it is essential to provide the best living situations we can create, given available resources and technology. It helps maintain the well-being of those who travel far from the open skies and lands of Casiti.”

Erit'ala guided the group through the rest of the moon station. They saw the common dining room, which contained much more artwork on the walls and some three-dimensional sculptures and hanging pieces as well. Marianne noticed that a strangely beautiful music was following them, seeming almost to anticipate their movements as they walked from room to room. They toured the observatory, which had a glass dome through which they could see a large portion of the moon’s surface.

“How long has this station been here?” David asked wonderingly. “And how have you kept it hidden?”

“Obviously, the placement of the station was carefully planned to be on the side of the moon facing away from Earth,” Erit'ala acknowledged. “It was constructed about ten years ago. We didn't know whether or not you would have more missions to the moon, and we also wanted to evade detection by any new moon mapping projects. We are fairly well camouflaged, but currently available Earth technology could have detected us, with some concerted effort. But we needed a base close to you, and this was the most effective. An orbiting base would have been detected quite quickly.”

She turned around, taking each group member into her gaze one by one. “So, are you ready to go back to Earth, and determine the best way to tell the rest of the world what you now know?” Heads nodded.

“Will we be able to come back here?” Marianne asked.

Erit'ala smiled. “Of course. You may return as often as Ja'el feels it is advisable. And someday, perhaps, if you wish, you may even be able to work here.”

“Wow—a job on the moon!” Joel sounded almost boyish in his enthusiasm for a moment. He really wasn't a bad guy, Marianne realized. His arrogance was mostly bluster.

“It's something to think about,” Laura mused. “Of course, I don't imagine there's any human rights work to be done here ,” she grimaced ruefully. “But there's probably a lot to learn.”

“This is all so astonishing,” Diana said thoughtfully. “You're really turning us into emissaries between such radically different systems and cultures. I suspect that's a dream come true for each of us. Thank you so much, Erit'ala, Ja'el—and thank you, Marianne, for including me in this process.”

“As with all Casitian efforts, we anticipate mutual benefit,” Erit'ala responded simply. “We serve one another as we serve all of Creation, and are served by it.”

Chapter 5: Evangelism

Moon Station, 138 Hevl, 780/May 29, 2011

Erit'ala and Ja'el sat quietly together, drinking the hot morning drink known as fuge. Neither sweet nor bitter, it had a creamy, slightly fruity taste quite different from anything Ja'el had encountered on Earth.

“What do you think?” Ja'el asked finally, although their conversation had been silent up to this point.

“There are some risks,” Erit'ala responded gently.

“I know,” Ja'el nodded. “I worry about how others will see it. But we have to find a way for the Earth humans to fully understand us. That cannot really happen through words alone.”

“That is true,” Erit'ala agreed. “And this feeling seems to have arisen naturally between you.”

“Yes,” Ja'el said simply. “Although she does not know our culture, she feels so much like one of us.”

“You have my blessing,” Erit'ala said, communicating her warmth and affection for Ja'el with a touch on her arm.

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 29, 2011

Marianne woke up exhausted. The group had talked for hours after getting back from the moon station, until they were so tired they could barely think. Then Joel had gone home with David to crash on his couch, Laura had taken a cab to her friend's house, and Diana had retired to Marianne's study.

Ja'el had stayed behind on the moon station. She had taken Marianne aside for a few moments and explained that she felt the group needed to spend some time bonding as a team, and that that would be easier without her presence.

Back at her apartment, Marianne had ordered a couple of pizzas, and then had taken on the task of explaining the Casitian emphasis on consensus. That had led to a heated discussion, primarily between Joel and Laura. In moments those two appeared to be shaping up to become bitter enemies. It was clear that Joel's attitudes rubbed Laura the wrong way, and she responded by coming up with exceedingly well-worded arguments in response. Finally, in the end, they had agreed to proceed according to the Casitian model, although Joel expressed his doubts about whether the Casitians were truly culturally more advanced than Terrans.

“I've got to give them the technology piece,” he'd said finally. “But consensus? And all that amateurish art everywhere? They're like a throwback to some cheesy hippie commune from fifty years ago! And how come they've got women in charge of everything? Did you notice that we have yet to meet a single Casitian male ‘teacher’? Are they all staying home with aprons on, or what?” At that point the others just sighed and rolled their eyes.

Upon parting, the group had agreed to meet again this afternoon. They all felt it was imperative to begin work on the two key tasks they had identified: drafting an initial plan to create a larger team, and creating an FAQ document to identify and address the kinds of questions Earth humans were most likely to pose.

Marianne was eager to have the larger team in place. It seemed quite clear that the work involved was going to exceed the capacity of the five of them. But she also knew that, for better or for worse, their five-person team was going to be under a lot of pressure over the next six months. They would be the point people, answering first to the larger team they assembled, and then to the entire rest of the world. It was this second thought that scared her.

Even through her exhaustion and fear, though, Marianne found herself thinking of Ja'el's face. She sighed and decided to indulge herself by letting herself remember, yet again, the feeling of Ja’el’s fingers on her arm. As she did so, she felt her heart rate rise a little, and a tingle came into her body. She had known she was attracted to Ja'el ever since they had first met, although of course at that time she had had no idea of what was to come. Then, it had seemed like—well, like a relatively ordinary flirtation, one which might possibly have developed into the kind of relationship to which Marianne was accustomed. Now, of course, she knew that was impossible. But she didn't know what, if anything, might be possible between them. She thought again of Ja'el's green eyes, the depth of her gaze, and shook her head. She was used to being able to tell whether someone was attracted to her, but Ja'el was difficult for her to read. She felt Ja'el's affection for her, and her esteem. But she had to admit to herself that she hoped there could be more.

Washington, DC, Earth, May 29, 2011

Rita took a cab directly from the airport to the NPR building where her office was located. She'd loaded the photographs onto her laptop on the plane, and had done some initial enlarging and image enhancement. Afterward, she'd been so excited she could hardly sit still. Although she wished she'd thought to take a video rather than still shots, what she had documented was still astonishing. That black oblong just sat there, with nothing else visible around it. People entered it and disappeared, and then it, too, disappeared. It was the stuff of science fiction, but there it was. She hoped that Rob, the science editor, could explain the technology to her. She couldn't quite believe her eyes, yet at the same time, she knew what she had seen.

When she got into her cubicle, she called Rob right away. “Rob, do you have a minute? There's something I'd like to show you.” She waited impatiently for Rob's distinctive heavy footsteps.

“Hi Rita, what's up?”

“You won't believe this.” She told Rob why she'd wanted to interview Marianne, and explained about the stakeout, and the photos. She swung her laptop toward him. “Look at these!” He sat in silence for a few minutes, moving his finger on the trackpad, clicking the button, checking out each one. Finally he looked up at her and laughed. “This is some amazing Photoshop work. How did you do this? You almost had me fooled for a minute there.”

“I swear on a stack of Bibles,” Rita said pleadingly. “Honestly, Rob, have I ever tried to fool you about anything? This isn't Photoshop. I saw it all with my own eyes.”

Rob shook his head. “I don't know what you're up to, Rita, but this is just too weird for me. It's National Enquirer-worthy, for sure, but it's not NPR material. At this point no one reputable believes in that SETI signal, either, or in those supposed UFO sightings.” He stood up, giving Rita a concerned look. “Hey, are you sure you're okay?”

Rita felt crestfallen and furious at the same time. “Yes, I'm fine! You're making a big mistake, Rob. This is big, really big, and we could be the ones to break the story. If you don't approve it, you'll be sorry later.”

“Rita, I know your career is important to you...” Rob started gently.

“This has nothing to do with that! I mean, of course it does have to do with my career, but only because it's the truth!”

Rob shook his head. “I've got to get back to work. I'm sorry.” He was still shaking his head as he left Rita's cubicle.

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 29, 2011

Diana bustled in, carrying a large bag. “Good morning! I thought I'd take a trip to the bagel place, for old time's sake. I got a few cinnamon buns, too.”

“Mmmmm. I'm grabbing one of those before everyone else gets here!” Marianne smiled. “Thanks so much, Diana.”

“No problem. You've done so much for all of us already. It's the least I could do.”

Marianne grew serious. “I'm so glad you're part of this, Diana. This is going to be quite a challenge. I'm pretty worried about how we're going to be able to pull it off without unleashing World War III. This is going to hit an awful lot of buttons for people.”

Diana said, “I think we can do it. I know some folks at the UN who should be able to help us out. I have a friend who does communications for the UN we should definitely include. She's a good egg, and she's got connections. But at the same time...” her voice trailed off.

“What?”

“Well, there's something bothering me about this. I feel like there's something Ja'el hasn't told us.”

Marianne looked up. “What do you mean?”

“The timing seems fishy to me. Why did they pick this time in history to reunify the Casitians and the Earth humans? They've been observing us for hundreds of years, supposedly. They could have chosen any point during that time. They've certainly had the technology. And there have been some horrible things they could have stopped, if they'd come sooner. Both World Wars, the Holocaust, a huge number of civil wars, AIDS... So why now?”

Marianne thought a moment. “Ja'el said the Sejo said 'it was time'—for both the dolphins and for us. What are you thinking?”

Diana paused. “I think it's mainly time for the dolphins. Humans have been destroying ourselves and the Earth for a long time, but it's only recently that we've really made serious inroads toward extinguishing dolphins. I'm wondering if maybe the Galactic government—is that what the 'Sejo' is?” Marianne nodded.

“I'm wondering if the Sejo doesn't care a whole lot about us. The human species is already part of the Galactic community anyway, and they see us as just a more primitive version of the Casitians, so what we do to ourselves probably doesn't matter much to them. It's what we're doing to the dolphins that matters. And when push comes to shove, it's the dolphins that will be the priority, not us.”

Marianne nodded. “Yes, you're probably right. It's a little adjustment for us to think that way, because we're so used to seeing ourselves as the center of the universe. But ultimately, I don't think the interests of Earth humans and dolphins have to be opposed. If we can help people align themselves with what's best for the dolphins, it will work out well for everyone.”

Diana nodded. “Well, that's what I've been trying to do for a long time.”

The bell rang, and Laura, David and Joel arrived in rapid succession. Marianne noted an odd, almost flirtatious exchange between Laura and Joel as they bantered over a cinnamon roll. It surprised her, considering how completely at odds they'd been the night before. But then, she knew that Laura had recently divorced, and was now single for the first time in many years. And she remembered David mentioning that Joel hadn't been involved with anyone since his girlfriend had walked out on him during the SETI scandal five years before.

They had agreed to use the Casitian term, “joining,” rather than “meeting,” for their gatherings. Marianne suggested they begin by checking in.

There were a few moments of quiet, and then Diana began. “I'm excited. The Galactic humans are going to help create solutions to problems I've been working on my whole life. I'm going to get to work with people I like and respect in the UN. So overall, this feels to me like an amazingly exciting time. I'm tired, but happy.”

Laura spoke next. “I'm happy and excited, too. I'm a little nervous about how some of the organizations I work with will react, but I'm glad I'll be in a position to help them. And, of course, I'm also tired. When you emailed me about this meeti… this joining, Marianne, I had a strong gut feeling that I should be here. But of course I had no idea how it was going to change my life!”

Marianne waited a few moments before speaking. “On a personal level, I'm somewhat overwhelmed. I've realized that my career is over. There's no reason for us to proceed with the space program, and since the Galactic technology is already so far beyond what we've developed, most of my skills will be useless. I've decided to quit my job, and I'm glad at the thought of freeing up more time and energy for everything which is going to be involved in this endeavor. But I'm also worried, on a practical level, about how I'll survive. And like Diana and Laura, I'm excited about being involved in all of this—but I have to say that I also have some fear about how the rest of the world is going to react.”

David spoke next. “I hear you, Marianne. I've realized that my career is over, too. And at the same time I feel hopeful and excited. That Galactic idealism is pretty contagious.”

They all waited, each involved in their own thoughts, until Joel finally spoke. “I don't really know what to say. This 'check-in' thing is a little, well, touchy-feely for me. But I'm glad to be vindicated, and to have proof that the thinking behind SETI was valid all along. And, frankly, I'm looking forward to watching this show unfold.”

Diana began to speak, and then hesitated. “This is slightly off-topic, but I think it might be useful for people to hear. I'm in a position to authorize the addition of as many as four new staff people on my team, without much explanation. In other words, I can hire those of you who need it, so you can work full time on this. I think it makes sense, since our work will have direct impact on my program’s central concern, the international treaties on fishing.”

“Huh?” said Joel. “Did I miss something? How are we going to be working on fishing?”

“Well,” Diana explained patiently, “One of our key tasks will be to communicate to people that our relationship with dolphins has to change—that we can no longer kill them, and that in fact we'll need to take immediate actions to improve and protect their environment. That is directly in line with the work my group has been doing for years.”

“Why is that part of our task?” Joel countered. “I thought our job was to tell people about the Casitians.”

Marianne stepped in. “You're both right. Ja'el explained to me that two things are going to take place: the dolphins are being recognized as full Galactic citizens, which means human beings will have to treat them very differently. And the Galactic humans and Earth humans need to become unified. Of course, both the technology and the attitudes of the Galactic humans will help Earth humans change our relationship to the dolphins. So both processes are very much related.”

Joel looked skeptical. “I've always been interested in outer space, and in the idea of life on other planets. That's my connection to this whole thing. Frankly, I'm not much of an environmentalist. To be perfectly blunt, I don't really give a shit about dolphins.”

Marianne felt her temper flare for a minute. Then she took a deep breath, let it out, and laughed. “Well then, you'll be a perfect 'focus group' for our efforts in that realm, Joel, since a lot of other Earth humans feel the same way you do.

“Thanks, everyone, for checking in, and thank you, Diana, for that information and that offer. I suspect that at least three of us will need to take you up on it. Now, we have a lot to figure out...”

Washington, DC, Earth, May 29, 2011

Rita dragged her suitcase up the front steps, and unlocked the door. She wasn't surprised to see that Henry wasn't home yet. She figured he was probably still in the Fox newsroom. But she felt eager to have him get home, so she could tell him what she'd seen. She knew he'd believe her. He had to believe her. She paced back and forth from the kitchen to the living room, then sat down on the couch, opened her laptop, and looked at the pictures again. She thought about trying to do some Google research, but she didn't even know what search terms to put in.

She looked again at the pictures of each person in the group, wondering how she could find out who they were. Then she thought of Pierce. He was an attorney, he was well-connected, and he owed her big-time. They'd been lovers years ago, before she married Henry. Rita had finally ended it when Pierce refused to divorce his wife. Even though years had passed, Rita thought, she could call any one of a dozen reporters and blow the whistle, not only about their relationship, but about a number of Pierce's other activities. And of course, there was always the option of calling Pierce's wife and blowing his cover that way. It was only out of the goodness of her heart that she'd refrained from doing so, but she'd never really been sure if Pierce was sufficiently grateful. This would give him a chance to prove it to her.

Rita scanned through her phone, located his number, and reached him at the office. Like Henry, he was working late. She seemed to have a penchant for that kind of man, she thought ruefully. Pierce seemed glad to hear from her, and promised to “do what he could” with the photos once she emailed them over.

Still musing, Rita boiled some potatoes and defrosted some steak for dinner. She was just setting the table when she heard Henry's key in the lock.

“Hi, honey,” he hugged her. “How was the trip to Sodom and Gomorrah?”

Rita scowled. “Don't tease me, honey. This is serious for me.”

“I'm sorry. So how was it?”

Rita sighed. “I didn't get the interview.”

Henry was sympathetic. “I'm sorry; I know you were hoping that would be a big break for you.”

“But I did get some pretty interesting photographs. Can I show them to you?” Rita grabbed her laptop from the couch and brought it over to the dining room table.

“Wow, these are strange,” said Henry thoughtfully. “But there must be some kind of logical explanation. I know some people who might know, do you want me to...”

“No, no, I'll handle it.” Rita suddenly had the chilling feeling that Henry might try to build up his own career by taking advantage of her big break. That was something she couldn't risk.

“Okay,” Henry shrugged, smiling. “It's your call.” They sat down to dinner, talking mostly about Henry's week at Fox. After dinner, Henry settled himself in front of the two TVs they had in the living room. One was set permanently on Fox, while the other roamed between CNN, CNBC, MSNBC, and then C-SPAN. They seemed to mostly be covering a Senate debate over a bill which would permit much more extensive dumping of chemical wastes into the ocean. Rita yawned, excused herself, and went upstairs to bed. She was asleep almost instantly.

San Jose, California, Earth, May 30, 2011

Joel and Laura had volunteered to work together to craft the FAQ document regarding the Galactic human civilization, and their purpose in coming to Earth. The two of them would draft a list of questions, incorporating suggestions from the rest of the team, and then come up with answers based on the information they had. They agreed that Marianne would then look over this draft, and then pass it on to Ja'el for further input and editing. They hoped to have it ready to distribute to the larger team, as soon as that team convened for its first meeting on the moon.

Joel found himself looking forward to working with Laura. He was primarily interested in questions about Galactic technology, and he knew that Laura's interest in Galactic culture was very different from his own. At first that had irritated him, but finally he had realized that the adage, “opposites attract,” was at work again.

Joel set up instant-messaging on Laura's computer. That way the entire team would be able to connect that way, as well as via email. Ja'el didn't have instant-messaging, of course. But, through means Joel didn't understand, she actually had an email address. So they would all be able to email back and forth as they worked on developing the questions, and then drafting answers.

Joel opened his laptop and began to type in his own questions. He figured that was as good a place as any to start. “How many Galactic humans are there? Are they all on Casiti? What role have they played in developing Galactic technology? What are their plans for making that technology available on Earth?...”

Chapter 6: Liaison

San Francisco, California, Earth, May 30-31, 2011

Diana had finally returned to New York, and it felt strange to Marianne to have her apartment to herself again, after their long days of joinings. But she felt satisfied with what they had achieved. David and Diana were assembling the list of prospective members to invite. Marianne would coordinate both the larger and smaller teams, and serve as the liaison between both teams and Ja'el—who in turn served as liaison between the Earth humans and the Casitians. Marianne sighed as she thought of Ja'el. She knew it was time.

She took out the slim communicator, and called Ja'el. In about two minutes, Ja'el's image appeared. “Hi, Marianne. How are you doing?”

“I'm fine—a bit tired, but feeling like we accomplished a lot.”

“Yes, you did. I am quite proud of you.” Ja'el's image smiled perceptibly. “How can I help you?”

Marianne hesitated.

“Marianne?”

“Could I see you in person? I have something I need to talk with you about. I'm happy to come up there, if that's easier.”

Ja'el seemed to be looking at Marianne, but it was hard to tell, given the perspective. “No, I can come to see you.” She looked away momentarily, then looked back and asked, “Is tomorrow evening all right?”

Marianne nodded. “Yes, that's fine. I'll see you then. Thanks, Ja'el.” Ja'el nodded, thoughtfully, and her image disappeared.

Marianne felt both excited and nervous. It was the same feeling she'd had before their second date, but it was much stronger now. She wondered how much she would be able to say to Ja'el about what she felt.

Fortunately, the next day was quite busy at work. She divided her time between catching up on what she'd missed while she was away, and thinking about how to prepare to quit. She had no idea what to say in her letter of resignation. Moreover, she had no idea what she'd be doing long-term, although she was grateful for Diana's offer in the interim. Eventually she wanted to work for the Casitians in some capacity, but she didn't know what that might involve. And she knew it would take a while for the Galactic systems to become integrated with the economic realities of Earth.

She thought about Ja'el on the whole trip home. A knot had formed in her stomach, and she doubted she'd be able to eat dinner. Instead, she took a long, hot shower, letting the water sluice over her and breathing in the steam. Finally she figured she'd better eat something, so she microwaved a frozen tamale—which, when eaten, sat heavily in her stomach.

She put on some music—Tuck and Patti. It was old, of course, but wonderfully romantic. She wondered what Ja'el would think of it, and realized, to her surprise, that she had never played any Earth music for Ja'el.

Finally the bell rang, and Marianne watched as Ja'el mounted the last flight of stairs. She felt suddenly awkward, unsure. Should she hug Ja'el? Kiss her? Ja'el took care of that, by opening her arms for an embrace. Marianne returned the hug, and for the first time she allowed herself to really feel the sensation of touching Ja'el's body. Finally, Ja'el pulled back and looked at Marianne with a mixture of tenderness and concern.

“Are you all right?”

“Oh yes, I'm fine,” Marianne responded, a bit embarrassed.

She had learned Ja'el's preferences. “Would you like some juice, or some tea?” Ja'el usually chose juice, so Marianne had taken to keeping a wider variety of juices in her refrigerator. Tonight she had pineapple juice, which she knew would be new for Ja'el. Ja'el took the glass, sipped it, and smiled.

“Mmmm, this is wonderful. Thank you.” She patted the couch beside her. “Come and sit down.”

Marianne perched herself awkwardly several feet from Ja'el. She felt at a loss for words. Ja'el put her juice down on the coffee table, and moved closer to her. They began to speak at the same time, both saying each other's names.

“Ja'el...”

“Marianne...”

Then they both laughed, and it broke the ice.

“What is it you'd like to talk about?” Ja'el asked softly. In that moment, Marianne realized that Ja'el knew exactly what she was about to say. Somehow, that made it easier. She took in a deep breath, and then allowed it to emerge in the form of words.

“Ja'el... ever since we first met, I've liked you a lot. I've felt... well, very drawn to you. And of course, I've gotten to know you much better, over these past few weeks. My feelings for you are very strong, and I would like... well, the truth is, I would like to be your companion.”

Ja'el looked at Marianne and smiled gently, with her eyes bright. “Marianne, I have liked you since I began to observe you, even before we met. And I've been attracted to you since we met, as well.”

Marianne was surprised. Her heart began to pound.

“But...” Ja'el continued. “I'm concerned that you may not understand what it would mean to be my companion. Also, we don't usually take companions when we're away from Casiti—it's not considered appropriate. And of course, I am serving as your teacher, which also makes it more complicated.”

Marianne felt crushed. She realized that what Ja'el had said made sense. “I'm sorry I brought it up,” she said quietly, not looking at Ja'el.

Ja'el placed her hand on Marianne's arm, and quite suddenly Marianne felt flooded with a gentle sense of hope, possibility, and well-being. “Yet,” Ja'el continued, “These are unusual circumstances. I have discussed it with my teacher, and she has given me her blessing.” Even before Marianne had time to fully absorb Ja'el's words, she felt Ja'el's body moving closer to hers. Then she felt her whole body respond as Ja'el took her face in her hands, moving her into a kiss. Marianne felt as if she was diving into the ocean of Ja'el.

Ja'el was the one to break the kiss. “Marianne, there is something I need to show you.” Marianne felt puzzled. “Show me?”

Ja'el nodded. “Close your eyes, I think it will help.”

Marianne sat back a little, and closed her eyes. She felt Ja'el touching her face, and felt the sense of calm and opening come into her. It felt as if Ja'el had actually transmitted those feelings to her with her fingers.

“How did you do that?”

“It has to do with focus, and intention. Basically, I am letting emotions move through my hands the way electricity moves through a conductor, in your system,” Ja'el explained. “All Casitians learn to do that when we're very young. You could do it, too, if you learned how. It takes some practice, but it's a basic human ability.”

“What if someone were to use that ability in a threatening way?” Marianne wondered aloud. “Could it be used to produce fear or intimidation, or to cause harm?”

“Yes, it could. In fact, Terrans do a lot of that, although often their techniques are less subtle!” Ja'el laughed. “This form of communication can transmit many of the same things that can be transmitted in words, or in touch. It's just a shortcut. And many of us find it more powerful.” She took Marianne's hand in hers and held it lightly. Suddenly Marianne felt an intense sensation move through her body, almost as if Ja'el had begun to make love to her.

“That comes from my thoughts,” Ja'el explained. “It appears that you are a very good receiver.”

“Do you…” Marianne hesitated. “Do you also make love in the usual ways, with your bodies?”

“We do, but that is much less emphasized than it is here on Earth.”

“I'm realizing I know very little about your customs,” Marianne said thoughtfully. “I don't even know whether you lie down to make love, as we do, or whether you spend the night with your companion.”

“Yes, we usually lie down—although not always, of course. I believe that is true here on Earth, as well.” Ja'el looked at Marianne mischievously. “And yes, we sometimes spend the whole night together with our companions, although that is considered a very intimate act. There is much sharing that happens during the night, while both people sleep. It is not something we take lightly.”

Marianne sat very still, holding Ja'el's hand. Suddenly she felt very shy again.

“You are shy,” Ja'el acknowledged gently. “All of this is so new. But perhaps our bodies can communicate with more ease than our words.” She held Marianne's shoulders in both of her hands, and again Marianne felt the calm and opening she had sensed before, along with just a hint of the more intense sensation. When she allowed herself to pay attention to it, the experience was exquisite.

“Would you like to invite me to your bed?” Ja'el asked. “We don't have to do anything you don't feel ready for. We could simply lie together.”

At that, Marianne suppressed a grin. Knowing how she felt, she thought the odds that she and Ja'el would “simply lie together” were pretty slim.

“Come, then,” Ja'el said, taking the lead. Hand in hand, they walked together into Marianne's bedroom.

Bahia de Los Angeles, Mexico, May 30, 2011

Raul and Paulo stood on the deck of the boat, preparing to drop their nets into the water. They had come out further than ever before, and there was very little fuel left. The winds would help push them back to shore, but the stakes were high. They both knew that if they didn't get a decent catch today, Raul would lose the boat.

Raul had inherited the fishing boat from his father, Fernando, who had bought it proudly thirty years before. Fernando had begun as a hired hand on a large fishing vessel out of Cabo San Lucas, and then moved to Bahia de Los Angeles to start his own business with a leased boat. Eventually, he was so successful that he became the owner of his own boat. Raul had worked with his father on this boat for many years, until Fernando's health no longer permitted him to fish. At that point, Raul had taken over.

But the business had hit its peak while Fernando was still fishing. Since then, things had gone steadily downhill. Five years ago, things had been so bad that Raul had been forced to take out a loan, using the boat as collateral. Now he was terrified of having to turn the boat over to his lender. He hadn't been making enough money to feed and clothe his family, let alone pay back the loan. He was months behind.

A very loud sound jerked him out of his thoughts, pulling his attention away from the nets and up to the sky. When he looked up, he saw a large ... thing. That was the only word that came to his mind. He didn't know what he was seeing. Paulo started to scream.

“Calm down!” Raul shouted, though he was far from calm himself. He ran into the pilothouse and grabbed some binoculars, so he could get a better look. The thing was roundish, and appeared to have windows. As he looked more closely, he was almost sure he could see people in the windows, looking down toward the water. All of a sudden, another ... thing ... came up out of the water, hovering directly underneath the larger thing. Raul gasped as the smaller vessel kept rising, eventually disappearing into the larger vessel, which then flew off at an astonishing speed. Paulo was so frightened he was speaking gibberish, and praying non-stop.

“Paulo, everything is fine. It's just some new thing the Americans are doing. Let's finish this,” Raul said, trying hard to sound more certain than he felt.

Within a few minutes Paulo had managed to compose himself. Without speaking further, they dropped the nets into the ocean. But the day went as Raul had feared. The catch was dismal. They fished for as long as they could, hoping for a sudden break that never came.

Finally, after the sun had nearly set, they turned the boat toward the harbor and let the winds push them in. As they approached the harbor in the dim light, Raul saw Christofo, the money-lender, waiting there for him.

As soon as they docked, Raul dismissed Paulo. “Go get Ernesto. We need his help to unload the fish.”

Paulo gave Raul a questioning look, then left.

Raul stood very still, looking straight at Christofo. “I've been expecting you. Have you come for the boat?”

“No, Raul. You can keep the boat. No one would want it now, because there is no good fishing anymore, anywhere. But you'll still have to pay me back somehow. I'm taking this load of fish from you, and after this, every second load until you have paid what you owe.”

“You can't! I have to feed my family! And Paulo! I have nothing to pay him with.”

“I have no choice, Raul. I need the money.” Christofo turned to another man, who Raul hadn't seen before. “Take this haul and bring it to Tulo for measuring,” he said curtly.

Paulo returned a few minutes later, after the fish were all gone. He and Raul could barely look at one another. Paulo knew it wasn't really Raul's fault, but his own situation was dismal. Now he would have to beg for food. What would his wife say? She'd been urging him to move north to Tijuana for months now. The sea was in his blood and he hated the thought of working long days in a factory, but maybe she was right. It appeared he had no other choice.

San Francisco, California, June 4, 2011

The group had reconvened in Marianne's living room. Pizza boxes, soda bottles, scraps of paper and laptops were scattered all around. The place was a mess, but Marianne felt they had made some significant progress.

“Okay,” she announced. “It looks like we're ready to assemble the larger team. We'll shoot for meeting all together on the moon, one month from today. Let's take the list that David and Diana have generated, and divide up the contacts between us.”

They had agreed that each one of them would make personal contact with four to five members of the larger team. They had even developed a basic script which each one of them would loosely follow. It was designed to convince listeners how important the issue was, and to provide enough information to be credible, without telling the whole story. They were prepared for the fact that not everyone would believe them, and that some people would decline the invitation to the meeting. But they hoped their personal connections would make most of their contacts set the day, and their reservations, aside. The trip to the moon and the meetings with Casitians would take care of the rest.

Together they pored over the list of names they had generated, dividing them up. Marianne spoke first. “I can be in charge of contacting Brit, the physicist, since I knew him at MIT. I can also contact Peter and Kyla; I have friends who know them. And Ginny Smith is an old friend. I'll contact her.”

David volunteered, “Okay, I'll take Joanne, the dolphin scientist. I can get her number from one of my other contacts, Maria Gomez. John is a friend, and Patricia is my pastor, so those are easy, too.”

“My contacts are all people I deal with on a regular basis, no problems there,” said Diana.

“I might need a little help getting through to Nicholas, the TV producer,” Joel mused. “Anyone know someone who knows him?”

“I think Gerard was interviewed by him for some documentary. I'll ask him,” David offered.

“Thanks, dude, that might help.”

“I've spoken to all my contacts in the last few months,” Laura said. “So I'm covered.”

Marianne closed her laptop, feeling exhausted but pleased. “Okay, then, it looks like we won't need to meet again for several weeks—I think we can do everything by email and IM. Then we can gather once more to finalize the agenda for the large team meeting, and make any last personnel changes that are necessary for that team. Any other issues or questions?”

As she looked around the room, she realized that everyone else was as exhausted as she was. It had only been a week since that fateful first meeting with Ja'el—a single short week made long by all the joinings, emails, instant messaging, phone calls, thinking, writing, talking. Essentially, in addition to all the strategic planning, they'd been working separately and together to adapt to a whole new understanding of life on Earth. And of course, Marianne had been doing all of that plus getting used to a wonderful new relationship with—she laughed silently to herself—a woman from another planet. It was no wonder she felt tired!

Without talking much more, everyone got up, cleaned up the room, and filtered out. Marianne yawned and headed to bed, knowing she needed the rest. After all, she'd be seeing Ja'el again the next night.

San Francisco, California, Earth, June 4, 2011

Gerard sat at David's desktop computer, feeling both guilty and enraged. He'd been spending so much time away from David that he was pretty sure David must be seeing someone else. He'd mentioned Joel a few times lately, but Gerard knew it couldn't be him—Joel was too straight.

Gerard couldn't stand the thought that he might be losing David. He needed to know who it was that was taking his lover away. He hesitated, then quickly typed David's password in. They'd exchanged email passwords years before, back in the days when they'd sworn there would be no secrets between them. Of course, Gerard had changed his password immediately, but he figured that David—sweet, trusting David—had not. And he'd figured right.

Opening David's email box, Gerard scanned through the list of messages. There were a lot from Joel - that was odd. So maybe Joel wasn't as straight as he'd always claimed. Randomly, Gerard clicked on an email headed “Questions, Draft One.” What he saw made no sense to him whatsoever. “How many Galactic humans are on Casiti? Are all Galactic humans bisexual?” What was this? He clicked on a second email, labeled “Draft talking points.” Reading it, he couldn't believe his eyes. David involved in something that had to do with humans from another planet coming back to Earth? What was this, some kind of science fiction club?

Gerard looked at his watch. It was just past 9:30, and David had said he wouldn't be home until at least midnight—he'd claimed he had a big project to finish up. So Gerard had time. Methodically, he went back to the beginning of the emails with Joel, and read through every one—not just the ones to and from Joel, but the others as well. As he did so, the story emerged.

It was even worse than Gerard had feared. The betrayal was far bigger. Although there was nothing to suggest that David had a new lover, he had been working with Marianne, Joel and others to create a team to “tell humanity” some very dramatic, fairly unbelievable things. He had kept all of this from Gerard, excluded him from important information—this, after having pledged so many years ago that there would be no secrets between them! Worst of all was that David had obviously not recommended Gerard's inclusion on the larger team. Gerard could barely contain his rage. Here he was, a rising political star in the dominant political party in the nation, and his own lover was leaving him out—in favor of Joel Gugenthorn, a Democrat?!

Gerard switched off the computer, then the light. Sitting alone in the dark, he rubbed his temples and tried to decide what to do. He always did his best thinking in the dark. The urge to confront David was strong, but as he sat, he realized he could do something even better. He could take the information he had learned and use it for his own political gain. There was no telling how far he could go with this information—in fact, he probably could win the presidency. The timing was perfect. David's “team” - Gerard winced as he thought of it—had planned to release their information to the general public just a month before the beginning of next year's primary season. All of the other candidates would be taken by surprise—but not Gerard. He would have his entire platform prepared. He would make the most of it. David's betrayal would backfire. He would get in touch with Pierce—together, they could find out everything. Yes, this was going to mean that Gerard would become the next President of the United States. The thought of that eased the sting of losing David, and replaced it with a fiery hot throbbing of adrenaline in his veins.

Still sitting in the dark and rubbing his temples, but gripped with excitement now, Gerard realized he would need to leave David immediately, live permanently with Juliana. After all, the United States would want a happily married president.

La Jolla, California, Earth, June 5, 2011

Something strange was going on. Joanne sat at her computer, looking over GPS data on the three dolphins they had tagged last year. They were part of a pod of offshore bottlenose who generally stayed close to the Hawaiian island of Maui. Suddenly, in the past month, they had left that area and swum all the way over to Baja Mexico. Now they were spending their time in the Sea of Cortez, the body of water between Baja and the Mexican mainland. This was extremely unusual behavior for Tursiops truncatis, who rarely strayed far from their home waters.

This might make a good paper for the upcoming conference, Joanne thought—but she'd need more information. What could have caused this? Weather? Water temperature? It was true that the temperature of the waters off Hawaii had increased, but that had happened everywhere. Joanne was just starting to look up weather patterns in the Pacific area near Hawaii over the past few months, when she noticed she had some new email. It was a message from her old thesis advisor, Blix, who'd been studying Atlantic Tursiops for years. He wrote that the pod he'd been studying, which frequented the waters off the Georgia Sea Islands, had suddenly disappeared. Unlike Joanne, Blix relied on old radio tagging, so when the dolphins got out of range, it was impossible for him to know where they were—but they'd been heading south, toward the Caribbean sea. He'd written Joanne to find out whether she had any ideas about what might be going on.

Joanne decided it was time to do some informal information gathering. She emailed five colleagues, representing many different geographic areas: Thomas, who studied dolphins in the Indian Ocean; Alex, who was from New Zealand, and followed at least three or four pods in NZ and Australia, Kevin who followed dolphins off of Madagascar, and Andres from Chile, who followed dolphins in the Pacific off of the coast of Peru. She hesitated about emailing Gustavo. The last time she'd seen him at the International Marine Mammals conference, he had come on to her, and she knew he was still interested. She, on the other hand, had no interest in him at all. She sighed. She really needed information on the Mediterranean dolphins he tracked. She added him to the list. She was a bit vague in the email—just mentioned that she and Blix had observed strange behavior on the part of the pods they were tracking, and she wondered whether or not they had noticed anything odd. Thomas, Alex and Andres used modern GPS tracking, so they could easily find out where their dolphins were, if they left their home waters. Kevin and Gustavo, she remembered, still used radio tracking. Because dolphins were generally so bound to their home waters, radio tracking had been fine for most scientists, and the small power radio transmitters that had been in use just prior to the advent of GPS tracking devices were small and easy to use. It was completely understandable that they would still be in use. However, in this situation, it made things more difficult.

Just a few minutes after she sent the email, her phone rang. “Joanne? It's Kevin. I just got your email.”

“Wow, that was fast. Hi, Kevin, how are you?”

“I'm fine, really fine. I've been spending the summer at Harvard, working with Harold on some genetics stuff. But I got an email two weeks ago from my student, who was going to spend the summer in Madagascar tracking the dolphins we'd tagged last year. She said the dolphins they had been tracking had disappeared. She was finally able to schedule an afternoon on the ship to do some dolphin hunting, so she could track some more, but there were none left in the home waters, so she went home.”

After talking more with Kevin and getting emails back from the others, Joanne had her confirmation. Indeed, something very strange was going on. Everyone's dolphins had left their home waters at approximately the same time. Her stomach started to grumble, and she realized she hadn't had lunch. Since it was way past dinnertime, she decided to head home. She left her office, and got in her car. As soon as she got into her car, her cell phone beeped to let her know she had a message.

“Hi, Joanne, it's David Lopez. I got your number from Maria. We met briefly when you two were together, when you visited here a few years ago, but you probably don't remember me. Anyway, some things are happening right now, and I remember that you study dolphins. There is something very important I need to speak with you about. Please call me as soon as you can. My number is ...”

Joanne's mind flashed first back to Maria. Their brief, fiery relationship had taught Joanne a lot about herself, including the fact that she preferred relationships with men, after all. But Joanne still thought the world of Maria, and still loved her. She remembered David only vaguely, and wondered what he could possibly want. And why had he mentioned dolphins? Well, she was too tired and hungry to call him back right now. She put the car into gear and headed home.

Moon Flyer/Moon Station, 1 Gont, 780/June 5, 2011

K'flef greeted Marianne with his broken English. “Hi Marianne, how you?”

“I'm fine, K'flef, thank you. And thank you for this ride to the moon.”

“Oh, pleasure mine, yes.” K'flef turned toward the controls of the small aircraft, and they took off. This was Marianne's second trip to the moon, the first in a small craft. It was just as smooth, and the view was just as wonderful. She took it in, wondering at the beauty of the Earth.

“Is Casiti this beautiful?” Marianne asked K'flef.

“Sorry, it more beautiful!” K'flef grinned, and Marianne nodded.

“Of course, it's your home.” Marianne smiled.

Ja'el greeted Marianne in the corridor as soon as they landed. They embraced, and then Marianne followed Ja'el back to her quarters, where they half-sat, half-lay on a mound of soft pillows in one corner of the room.

“I've been missing you, Marianne,” Ja'el said, stroking her hand.

Marianne was surprised. She had assumed that her feelings for Ja'el were stronger than Ja'el's for her.

“I've missed you too, Ja'el. But I've been so busy with all of the preparations that I feel like I haven't had time to integrate everything that has happened—including, well, including you.”

Ja'el smiled. “It's fine, it will take some time. We have plenty of time.” She leaned forward, allowing her lips to lightly touch Marianne's. “So, how are the preparations going?”

Marianne forced herself back to cognitive thinking. “They're going pretty well, I think. We've decided who's going to be on the larger team, and we're almost finished with our list of questions. We'll be in good shape for the meeting next month. How are things going here?”

Ja'el looked serious. “They are fine, really. But we are more worried about the dolphins than we were at first. From what they have communicated, their situation is rather dire. We're still gathering more information from them; we'll brief you at the meeting next month. But the timetable is probably going to be much tighter than we thought.”

Marianne nodded. “Okay, we'll take that into consideration. It will be easier to know how all of this will go once we have the larger team working together. We have a dolphin scientist on the team—she can probably be of help.”

Ja'el looked puzzled. “It's not really necessary. Our contact with the dolphins is—direct.”

Marianne was surprised. She thought back to Diana's comments, and wondered how much to say.

“I want to change the subject,” Ja'el said in a different tone. “Close your eyes. Okay, now put out your hand, and place it right over mine, but not touching.”

Eyes closed, Marianne stretched out her arm and put her hand over Ja'el's.

“Imagine energy from your heart pouring out of your fingers. How does that feel?”

At first, Marianne felt nothing. Then, slowly, she started to feel a bit of a tingle in her fingers. It was almost imperceptible, but there. She opened her eyes, looking at Ja'el.

“That's the first step. I'll teach you more. But you have the same abilities I do, Marianne. I know you find that hard to believe. Just for your information, we call this 'lyre'es'gkin.'”

“Yes, I do find it hard to believe that I have the same ability you do.” Marianne cocked her head. “But, having experienced your ability, I would certainly like to think that I could return what you're able to give to me.”

Ja'el smiled, reaching out her arms. As they embraced, then kissed again, lingeringly, Marianne let herself lose track of her sense of time and place, giving herself over to the pleasure of Ja'el's presence, their touching, their not-touching, and the power of lyre'es'gkin.

Chicago, Illinois, Earth, June 6, 2011

Pierce sat at his desk, thinking about what he'd heard from both Rita and Gerard. He had realized fairly quickly that they were both telling him pieces of the same story—like mosaic pieces which fit together to give a greater intimation of the whole. He wasn't sure what his role was to be in all of this, but he figured that aligning himself with Gerard would be a good bet. He could use the information he'd gotten from Rita to help Gerard, and Gerard would do all sorts of favors for him, in exchange. Rita, on the other hand, had nothing to offer him—so there wasn't much point in keeping her in the loop. But he would tell all he knew to Gerard. The five people, the other people they had contacted, the relationships between them...everything. He'd paid a cracker to tap into David's email on an ongoing basis, so they'd have that steady source of information coming in.

He'd thought of something else, too. Joel's friend Dwight owed money to someone who, by coincidence, owed a lot of money to Pierce. So it had been easy to convince Dwight to be their mole in the upcoming meeting. He'd attend it wired for sound and video, with the most sophisticated equipment in existence.

Moon Station, 32 Gont, 780/July 2, 2011

They had decided to have the final joining of the small group on the moon, since Marianne was spending more time there than in her own apartment. David had thought it really strange the first time Marianne emailed him and told him she was on the moon. He wondered exactly how the Galactics had been able to tap into the internet, but Marianne hadn't found out yet.

Everyone was seated at the table in the small joining room. It had a view of the moon's surface, which seemed to be teeming with activity at the moment.

“What's going on there?” Joel asked.

“We're starting up mining activities, so that we can be self-sufficient here on the moon,” Ja'el answered matter-of-factly.

“Self-sufficient? How is that possible? There's no water here.”

“Actually, there's ice, in craters near the poles. We've been melting it and piping it to the station. This mining operation is for building materials, and for creating fertilizer for the plants we grow. We expect to be fully self-sufficient in a year.”

Marianne said thoughtfully, “Yes, I remember a few years ago the Lunar Prospector sent back some data suggesting that there could be ice. That's fantastic, to be self-sufficient on an airless moon!”

“The Galactic community has a lot of technology resources. You'll be exposed to more of them as time goes on,” Ja'el said.

“Let's start this joining, shall we?” David said, taking charge. “The agenda for the first joining with the larger team is drafted. Has everyone had time to look it over? Any comments?”

“I think you need more time for the team members to get to know each other, and to talk about what implications they see in their own spheres,” Ja'el responded.

Marianne nodded. “Yes, I agree with Ja'el about that. This agenda only allows for brief introductions. Remember, they will have just arrived on the moon -- they'll probably be in shock. Let's give them some time to verbally process this.”

Joel furrowed his brow. “Do we really need to spend time on touchy-feely stuff? Aren't these people professionals? We won't have a lot of time at this meeting, and we really need to get down to business.”

Laura, who was seated next to Joel, put her hand on his arm. “Joel, calm down. You're right that there's a lot to do, but not everyone is like you. Some people need time to let it all sink in, and to reorient themselves. We need to provide space for that. If we don't, our later steps might not work as well.”

Joel's face softened as he looked at Laura, and Marianne realized suddenly that they must have gotten involved. “Okay, Laura. I hear you. I'm just worried about the time factor.”

Diana spoke up next. “I'm worried too, but I'm more concerned about the point of no return—that is, the moment when this information gets leaked, and things get beyond our control. The more we can do before that happens, the better off we'll be.”

“We also need to talk about the budget,” Marianne commented. “We've been using our own resources for things, but that's going to have to change as the group gets bigger. Also, Silandra and Ja'el are thinking about how to interface with Earth economic resources. Does anyone have any ideas about this?”

“Well, I do have some funds we can use,” Diana offered. “By the time the budget review gets done, a few months from now, the world will know what's happening, so I can't imagine my supervisors will object to the expense. I can contribute 100,000 euros or more without much problem.”

Marianne nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Diana. You've definitely been our economic benefactor.”

Diana smiled. “Well, it's really the World Trade Organization at your service. They just don't know it yet.”

They moved through the agenda fairly smoothly, checking in about the contacts they'd made. “From my list, Ginny refused to come,” Marianne reported. “I think she thought I'd had a psychotic break. But I got in touch with Ira, who was an alternate, and he agreed.”

Diana spoke next. “I had to do a bit of fancy footwork. One of my contacts got fired the day before I was going to call him, so I had to pick an alternate. Apart from that, they were all eager.”

Joel reported, “Amazingly, enough, I was able to get Nicholas Johnson to come. And all of my other contacts are coming too.”

David looked pained, and Marianne wondered what was up. “All of my contacts are coming,” he said softly. “Joanne, the dolphin scientist, got very interested once I explained the dolphin connection. It turns out that the cetacean science community has been noticing strange events, and was starting to investigate. So it's a good thing this is going to get out soon.”

Laura spoke last. “We're all set from my group. I think the Lama is coming just to humor me, I don't think he actually believes what I've told him. Jerome from the Kinsey Institute is quite intrigued, especially after I told him about Galactic human sexuality.”

Ja'el looked toward Laura. “What is the Kinsey Institute?”

“It's named after a researcher, Alfred Kinsey, who was the first person to really explore human sexuality from a scientific perspective.”

“Ah, that makes sense, then,” Ja'el nodded. “I will look forward to joining with them.”

As the joining came to a close, Marianne caught hold of David's arm. “You don't look so good. What's going on?”

He avoided her gaze. “Gerard moved out last week.”

Marianne raised her eyebrows. “Oh, I'm sorry. But I thought you'd wanted to ask him to do that anyway...?”

“Yes, I thought I did too. I guess I didn't realize how it would affect me. I really love Gerard. I want him to come back. I'm willing to stick with him through his campaign and everything.”

Marianne put her hands on David's shoulders. “David, that's crazy and you know it. Yes, you love Gerard. But he was also making you miserable. Let him go. You'll be better off.”

David hung his head. “I know. I just hate losing him.” He straightened a little and looked into Marianne's face with just a hint of a smile. “And by the way, your relationship with Ja'el has not gone unnoticed.”

“I told Diana. Does everyone know?”

David nodded. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“I was worried about what you might think. I'm worried about what everyone else might think, too.”

David's smile grew bigger. “I don't think you need to worry. If Laura weren't involved with Joel, I think she'd be looking for a Galactic herself. Joel, on the other hand...”

“Do you think he's going to be a problem?”

“I hope not. But his reactions are making it clear to me that it's pretty likely the world will be divided into two groups: those that welcome the Casitians, and those that will oppose the Casitians with everything they have.”

“David, we won't have a choice, you realize. We can't fight the Galactic Community. If we tried, we would lose, terribly.”

David nodded, “I know, I know. But that doesn't mean people won't try.”

Chapter 7: Betrayal

San Francisco, California, Earth, July 2, 2011

There were two types of people who had clustered around Gerard. The first group was made up of people Gerard trusted completely -- people who were fiercely loyal to him, who would align themselves with him no matter what. The second group was made up of people whom Gerard knew he could trust to follow their own self-interest, no matter what. So, as long as Gerard's interest was in line with theirs, he could trust them, too. He went to the liquor cabinet, and got out a bottle of his best 15-year-old Scotch, and offered it around.

“I want to thank you all for coming. Pierce, please start your presentation.”

Pierce, a tall, lanky man with a bit of a pot belly and a small mustache, went to the front of the room, and pointed a remote toward a projector. A photograph of a dark two-dimensional oblong, with people entering it, came up on the screen. Using the photo for emphasis, Pierce told the assembled group everything he knew.

Gerard got up again. “Thank you, Pierce. So, you can see, we are heading into a very interesting time. And I have more information than anyone else except the small group in the photograph. With your help and support, I can become President of the United States, which will, of course, benefit you greatly.”

The only woman in the room, who was medium height, and wearing a business suit, said “What is your strategy going to be, Gerard? How will you use this information to become President?”

“Most people in this country will oppose these alien humans, these Casitians, they call themselves. They will think their culture is decadent, and they will oppose any off-Earth governance. It is these people I will represent, and they will vote for me.”

“What if your opponents also voice their opposition?”

“I have had more time and information to craft my message. I know about the sexuality and parenting habits of the so-called Galactics. We can be in the position to expose what they don't choose to tell the world.”

The woman nodded, but something in her manner sent up a red flag for Gerard. She might not be so trustworthy, after all.

San Francisco, California, Earth, July 2, 2011

Anna realized she would have to think fast. She sensed that Gerard's plan was likely to work, but the cost to the American people would be enormous. Anna was only the third woman to head a Fortune 100 company, and she had used her political savvy to help Biosis Pharmaceuticals reach the top of the industry. She had always supported Gerard; even now, she knew that as president he would represent her business interests. In the past this had mattered to her. But the information revealed at the meeting had changed her thinking. She had realized very quickly that big pharma was dead. All the major companies would undoubtedly be supplanted by the Galactics' superior medical technology. Not just her company, but her entire industry would be ruined. She was surprisingly philosophical; she had come to terms with that quickly. Since her career no longer mattered, it seemed right, at least, to try to save her country.

She remembered a few of the names Pierce had mentioned. Marianne Michaelson -- she'd heard of her in connection with the SETI scandal a few weeks back. Anna wanted to make contact with Marianne, but she would need to be careful. Gerard might be watching her now.

La Jolla, California, Earth, July 9, 2011/Moon Station, 35 Gont, 780

Joanne picked up her briefcase and stood at the curb outside her house. David had told her someone would pick her up promptly at 10:00, but it was 10:02 and there wasn't a car in sight. She shifted impatiently, then felt a sudden gust of wind. She looked up, but nothing was there. All of a sudden, a dark oblong shape, looking to be a doorway, appeared next to her driveway.

“Joanne Henry?” A man appeared inside the shape. Joanne got up, and walked toward him. He held out his hand. “Hi, I'm K'flef. Come with me?” He had a heavy accent of some sort. She followed him, and realized she was in a small vehicle of sorts, with only two seats. It looked, oddly enough, like a spaceship.

“Welcome. Please sit.” She heard a low whooshing sound behind her. When she turned around, the oblong door had shut. The view outside shifted as they started to fly over houses and trees, then into the open ocean off of La Jolla. They flew over the ocean for a while. Then, suddenly, they were flying straight up.

“I was told to, uh, let you enjoy view for a bit.”

Joanne was indeed enjoying the view. She had never in her wildest dreams expected to be in space. The moon came into view, and they shifted direction to fly towards it. Slowly, the moon got larger and the Earth receded behind them. This gave Joanne a bit of time to let the new experience sink in. She hadn't completely believed David, but the new dolphin behaviors made his story more compelling, so she'd figured she should at least attend the meeting. But David hadn't told her that the meeting would take place on the moon!

They touched down, and K'flef led her out of the vessel, through corridors with lovely paintings and drawings, into a large conference room where others were gathering. He then turned and left, presumably to pick up other people. Two more people arrived, and she noticed there was food in one corner. She saw David talking to Maria, and went up to them.

“Ah, Joanne, it's great to see you.” Maria gave Joanne a big hug.

“Thanks for coming, Joanne.” David hugged her too.

Joanne saw Kyla Morgenstern across the room, who was coming their way.

“Hi Joanne, it's great to see you!” Joanne had last seen Kyla at a climate conference at UCSD. Joanne had wanted to know more about global climate change because of how that might affect the dolphins, and climate change was Kyla's specialty. They'd spent several hours talking over drinks.

“Hi Kyla, I'm so glad you're here.”

“It was hard not to come.”

As they all caught up with each other, more and more people filled the room. Finally a tall African-American woman stood up on a chair and said loudly, “Thank you all for coming. Please take a seat.”

They all filtered around the very large conference table, and sat down. Apart from David, Maria and Kyla, all of the faces were new to Joanne. There looked to be quite a range of people present, men and women of varied ages, races and nationalities.

“Hi, my name is Marianne. We have a very interesting story to tell you, some of which you may already know, since we're here on the moon. We have a big job ahead of us, and a short time to do it in, and we'll be hoping for help from all of you. So, without further ado, I'd like to introduce Siladra z Vezeldame, who will head up the Casitian team, and Erit'ala z Helhum, who is the primary liaison between us and the Caraj, which is basically the Casitian government.”

Erit'ala was a tall woman with striking white hair, who spoke with a light accent. “Hello, and welcome to moon station.”

Moon Station 35 Gont, 780/July 9, 2011

Dwight was sweating. It always happened when he was nervous, and he just hoped people here wouldn't figure that out. He regretted having agreed to come to this meeting wired, but he had felt he had no choice at the time. He owed Enrico a lot of money, and it was probably the only way to prevent getting both his legs broken -- or worse. He tried to bring his mind back to the present, to listen to what the Casitian women were saying.

Silandra was standing up now. “Before we proceed, we have one small thing to bring up. We are choosing to attend to it publicly, so that all of you understand the gravity of what is involved. Dwight Marks, please stand up.”

Still sweating, Dwight looked helplessly at Joel, hoping he would intervene. Joel shook his head. Dwight was trapped. So, avoiding Silandra's eyes, he stood up.

“Please take off your shirt.”

“Why?”

“You know exactly why.”

“How did you know?”

“We have sophisticated technology that you don't have. We knew that you were wearing taping equipment from the moment you arrived at the station,” Silandra answered calmly.

Dwight realized he'd been busted. Very, very busted. What next? Were they going to kill him? Kick him off the moon? He unbuttoned his shirt, and took it off. Everyone in the room could see the set of wires that went from the microphone and camera in his shirt to the recording devices underneath his pants.

“Why have you done this?” Silandra asked, still seeming surprisingly calm.

Dwight looked at Silandra. “Someone I know - um, someone I owe money to, this guy Enrico, asked me to wear it to the meeting. He wanted to know what was going on.”

“Who is Enrico? Why did he want you to record this? Do you know how he knew this joining was happening?”

Dwight was embarrassed. He'd really had no idea how Enrico had found out about the joining, or why he cared. All he'd thought about was the fact that he owed Enrico money, so he'd better do what was asked. Now that he thought about it a little more, it made sense that Enrico was probably working for someone else. But Dwight didn't know who.

Dwight decided he couldn't possibly get in any more trouble by being honest. “The truth is, I really don't know. I'm just afraid if I go back without information, I'll get hurt.”

Now Silandra looked both perplexed, and a little sad. “Why would you get hurt?”

“I owe Enrico a lot of money. He's the kind of guy that hurts people that don't pay him back. I thought I could pay him back, but I couldn't. So he asked me to do this.”

“What if you come back with money instead?”

Dwight looked confused. “I don't know. I guess he might leave me alone.”

“Please remove the device, and give it to Marianne.”

Dwight removed all of the wiring and the recorder, and handed the bundle to Marianne, who looked like she didn't want to touch it.

“How much money do you owe Enrico?”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

“We will provide you with that amount before you go back.”

David was shocked. He stood up, getting a little red in the face. “You mean you're not only going to let him stay, you're even going to give him money? That's like saying what he did was okay! And how do you know he won't still betray us?”

“You don't think this is the right approach?” Silandra asked with some surprise. “I believe we are running into what you might call a 'cultural difference.' Joel, he is your friend, is he not? How would you suggest that we handle this?”

Joel hesitated. “Yes, he's my friend, or at least he was. But he betrayed me, and all of us. I really don't know what to do here.”

Silandra looked at Marianne next. “What do you think?”

Marianne said, “I don't see what good it would do to kick him out at this point, anyway. He already knows plenty. Dwight, if we let you stay, will you promise not to tell anyone?”

Dwight, relieved, nodded vigorously. “I really didn't want to do this in the first place. The only reason I agreed was because I was scared of what Enrico would do to me. I won't tell a soul.”

Silandra folded her hands. “I think that is sufficient.”

Dwight could tell that David was still fuming. Silandra looked back toward Marianne. “Do you have any other information to share that might relate to this matter?”

“Yes, Silandra. I got a phone call from a woman named Anna Gezelle. She had been to a meeting with Gerard, David's former companion. From what she said, it appears that Gerard has obtained quite a lot of information, which he is planning to use to try to win the Presidential election. I wonder whether perhaps 'Enrico' is somehow connected with Gerard.”

David put his face in his palms, and was shaking. Dwight sensed a change in David’s emotions, and he could imagine why.

Silandra sighed. “I see the larger picture now. It is important for all of you to understand that we find this kind of behavior both troubling and mystifying. We understand that it will be difficult to avoid this sort of, what do you call it, 'intrigue.’ But this is not how we operate. And this is not how we want you to operate, either. You have been called together to work as a team, and given the task of conveying very important information to the world. At every point, and at every level, you must be completely honest and straight-forward. Is that clear?”

Silandra looked around the table. Dwight got the message, and he imagined everyone else did, too.

“Okay. So let's get started, shall we? We have a lot to accomplish.”

Moon Station, 35 Gont 780

Ur'lef sat in front of a three dimensional display of the Earth that showed the gatherings of the species that the Earth humans called dolphins. Of course, the dolphins had a name for themselves that could not be heard by human ears. The Casitians also had a name for the dolphins, which was “parn'litd'shoms,” or “parns,” for short. The rough English translation was “swimmers in wisdom.” Ur'lef's students were at each gathering, communicating with the parns. The parns had become aware of the Casitians very soon after first contact—a fact which had not surprised them at all. However, Ur'lef imagined that the Earth humans would be astonished, considering that most of them considered dolphins to be good at acrobatics and not much else. Ur'lef shook his head sadly. He was glad that he had been assigned to work with parns rather than with Terrans. He lacked the great patience of Erit'ala, Silandra and Ja'el.

He brought his attention back to the display. The parns were in the process of choosing their representatives to the Galactic community. Two or three parns from each of the twelve gatherings would go to the main station to further solidify the relationships between the Galactic community and their home system. Ur'lef wondered whether or not Silandra had told the Terran team that from now on it was dolphins, in collaboration with the Galactic Community, that would determine the fate of Earth.

Moon Station, 35 Gont 780/July 9, 2011

After the break, Marianne stood up. “You've now heard everything we know. We would like to give you time to talk about how you're feeling about all of this. We know it is a lot to take in all at once.”

Kyla, the climatologist, raised her hand, and spoke a little nervously. “I'm excited about how the Galactics can help us clean up the environment. But I'm worried about how much obstruction and resistance we'll encounter.”

Joanne spoke next. “Yes, I'm worried about that too. I think there are a lot of people who will avoid making changes. I'm sure there are people who couldn't care less about dolphins, and that won't change overnight.”

A short balding Asian man in a suit said, “I work for a company that has championed dolphin-safe tuna - I believe many companies will try to comply, as long as they understand that it will benefit them to do so. I think that's the key -- making sure that everyone understands the benefits. Once they understand the benefit...”

Another man raised his hand. “I'm an economist, and I'm concerned about the massive shifts in the economy that will result from the changes proposed by the Galactics. Between the potential shutdown of so many companies and the re-orientation of so many others, and all of the associated job losses and changes, I think we're in for some serious economic quakes. I don't know how individuals and countries will deal with that.”

An older woman with graying hair raised her hand. Marianne recalled that she was Patricia Warren, the pastor of the church where she'd taken Ja'el on the first day they'd spent together.

“This will lead to a complete upheaval in terms of religious belief for many people,” Patricia was saying. “As a reflex, some might consider this a deception of Satan. It's also possible that people may lose their faith entirely. I also wonder how the Pope will respond—a lot of people listen to him.”

Jal'end'a said to Patricia, “I would love to spend some time talking with you about these issues. I've been doing research, and thinking a lot about what I've learned. I think perhaps we can help each other.”

A slight, bald man in saffron robes, who Marianne remembered was the Tibetan Lama Chatral Nangwa, smiled, “Yes, there is much to learn, for all of us.” Marianne noticed a look of recognition pass between Jal'end'a and the Lama.

The conversation continued, with many in the room expressing both their concerns and their excitement about the future. A few seemed to have deep reservations about the culture of the Casitians. They discussed the things that some Earth humans might find the most difficult, and also explored the things that most Earth humans would have a more positive view toward.

Marianne said, “The Casitians have come to realize that complete re-unification of our two branches of the species isn't going to happen as quickly or as easily as they had thought. They imagine that Earth culture will remain fairly different than Casitian culture for many generations to come. I agree with them on that.”

They took a short break so that people had time to stretch their legs, eat some snacks, and talk a bit with each other. After the break, Marianne stood. “We have some things to hand out that will make our tasks a lot easier.”

Marianne turned toward the door, where a Casitian man was standing, with a large carton in his arms. She motioned him to come to the table. He put the carton on the table next to Marianne, and she pulled out a thin, metal object.

Marianne said, “This is going to be your primary tool for work and communication. It is, of course, of Galactic origin, although it is designed for us. Galactic technology might be hard for us to use initially, but this will be a gentle start. You can think of it as a very souped up laptop. There is no keyboard, because you can speak directly into it, as well as use the touch screen. It will display whatever you would like, or need. All of these units will be keyed to your own identities, so that they will be inert without your voice signature. They will allow communication between the units and to the moon. They also can connect to the Earth Internet.”

Marianne and the man started to hand out units. “The first thing you need to do is just speak into it. The unit will instruct you from there.”

Some aural cacophony ensued as people spoke into their units, and followed instructions. Marianne had already worked a little with hers—it was very intuitive and amazingly capable. The sounds in the room died down, as people had completed the first stage of using the devices.

Marianne stood up again. “Once we break for the day, please spend time with the device, and get used to working with it. Our next step is to lay out the detailed process for how to break the news to everyone on Earth. We have come up with a tentative plan; we want everyone's feedback on this plan as soon as possible. Please look at your units, they now should be displaying the tentative plan for dissemination of information regarding the Galactics, and your role in that plan.”

Marianne asked, “As you can see, there are different teams—governmental, commercial, public and NGO, and scientific. We'll be doing a lot of this in parallel, until it all has to come together when we finally go public. Are there any immediate comments on this draft?”

Gita Padath, a UN communications official, looked up, and raised her hand. “I'm concerned about the vulnerability of the UN to the US government, given that the physical location of the UN is on US soil. If the US government decides that it is uninterested in UN oversight relating to environmental issues, it will be in a position to cripple the UN efforts. I am worried about possible violent conflict.”

Silandra stood. “We understand that it is possible that violence will occur because of this process. It is important that you understand that Galactic ships have no weapons. We have no military. However, we do have technology far exceeding what you even would expect. We can, and will, if necessary, make it impossible for the US military, or any military for that matter, to interfere with these plans. We need to communicate this clearly to all governments.”

John Gugenthorn, who had been a congressperson several years ago, spoke up, “Unfortunately, Silandra, you may well be tested on this one, especially by the US government, and possibly by the Chinese.”

Silandra nodded solemnly.

Marianne asked, “Any other comments? The details of this plan are to be hashed out in teams. If you look at the display, you will see the team you are assigned to. If you feel that is in error, check with me.”

Marianne paused, and looked around the room. “I think it's a good time to break for the day. We won't be meeting together for quite a while. We'll be doing everything in smaller teams and electronically. We have a very tight timetable. We start the UN dissemination process in two months, and let the press know in about three, if we can hold it off that long. It's going to be quite the ride for a while. Also, there are detailed guidelines in your unit about press contacts, and the like. The more people that know, the more chance that this will get out, so please limit the number of people you tell —for example, please wait as long as you possibly can to tell spouses and family.”

People started to get up and move around, and as Casitian pilots entered the room to announce rides home, they filtered out, and the room emptied, except for Marianne, Ja'el, David, Laura, Joel, Diana and Silandra.

“How are you all feeling now?” Ja'el asked.

Joel looked at Ja'el. “I'm overwhelmed. I don't know how I'm going to manage to lead the science team. I know I can do it, but there feels like so much to get done. Just to let you know, Joanne is feeling very left out of things. I had a talk with her at the last break. She feels that she should be involved in dolphin contact—because she feels that she's knowledgeable, and can help.”

Silandra laughed, realized that might seem rude, then looked solemn. “No Joel, there is nothing she could do to help. Her understanding of the dolphins is not as advanced as she thinks it is. There is nothing she knows that we do not. I'm sorry that she feels left out, but she has no role to play except as one of the dolphins' advocates among humans.”

Joel looked at Silandra with some degree of suspicion. “OK, I'll tell her, but that won't make her happy.”

Diana leaned forward and spoke “I'm actually in pretty good shape. Gita and I have talked a lot about the UN issues, and I'm confident that everything will be in place within our deadline, especially if we've got some Galactic help.”

Ja'el nodded, “That's good to hear Diana, thank you.” She turned, “David, what do you think about contact with corporations?”

“Well, I'm worried. Corporations, especially in the US, are used to operating with little oversight. I'm not sure how they will respond, especially if they have to radically change their practices. And those that will simply go away because of Galactic technology will create a lot of disruption that we have to prepare people for.”

Ja'el nodded, “Yes, there will be disruptions in a lot of different places and for a lot of people. We'll have to find ways to minimize that. I'm sure, though, that there will be some things we can't anticipate.” She turned toward Marianne. “Marianne, how are you feeling in your leadership role?”

Marianne hesitated. “It's alright. I was cornered a lot at breaks, and I imagine I'll be getting a lot of email and phone calls. David has been helping a lot as my primary, um, student, and this team has been working quite well together.” Marianne smiled, “Everyone has been a great support for me.”

Silandra nodded and said, “You all have done incredible work here. Congratulations on making it to this step. Two more months, and we will be in a different season, as it were. Thank you all for a great joining, as well.” She smiled, got up, and left the room.

K'flef came in, and said “David and Joel, I'm ready to take you home. R'ewl will take Diana and Laura.”

“Are you staying here, Marianne?” Joel asked, suspiciously.

“Yes, Joel, I am staying for a day or two.” Marianne looked Joel straight in the eye, as if in challenge. He backed down.

They all walked out of the door, with those going back to Earth following their rides, and Silandra going back to her quarters. Ja'el and Marianne walked back to Ja'el's quarters.

As they opened the door and went in, Marianne sat heavily on the pillows. “I'm worn out, Ja'el. I don't know how long I really can handle leadership, and the shuttling back and forth from the moon to home. It feels overwhelming at times.”

“Would living here help? You'd be free of the distractions of the city, and I'd be here.” Ja'el smiled. “I would enjoy having you here.”

Marianne looked up at Ja'el, who was approaching the pile of pillows she sat on. Ja'el moved to sit down next to her, and began to massage her head, which made Marianne feel so much better. “Yes, it would be nice to live here with you. Would that be OK with everyone on moon station?”

Ja'el said, “Of course. Everyone understands what's happening. We could move into one of the suites, where there would be plenty of room. You could communicate with everyone on Earth just as easily from here.

Marianne felt relieved, and started, in her head, to move out of her apartment, put everything she owned in storage, and move to the moon. On one hand, it sounded completely absurd—living on the moon! On the other hand, she rather liked the moon station, and she loved being with Ja'el. And it would provide her with some insulation from the chaos that was going to happen on Earth. She was going to need all the insulation she could get. It was going to be a wild ride.

Chapter 8: Secrets

New York, New York, July 11, 2011

Gita Padath rode up the elevator to the twenty third floor. They had finally reopened that floor, after months and months of renovation. The communications office had rented space on Park Ave. and 48th street, a full six blocks away from headquarters, which had been completely inconvenient. She guessed, though, that she had gotten some very good exercise over those months, since she was back and forth at least twice a day.

Gita had a difficult time at home, after her day on the moon. She had to lie to her husband about where she had been, which was impossible—she was a terrible liar, and they both knew it. He had finally said that she was lying, and she admitted it, and told him that she would be able to eventually explain where she had been, but for security reasons she couldn't. He didn't buy that, because he worked at the UN too, and he knew procedure; he also knew exactly what she was privy to. She promised him that everything would be alright, but he had decided that it was something she was purposefully hiding from him, like an affair. The argument that ensued agitated their daughters, ages five and nine, and it ended up being a miserable night.

She was glad she could escape their apartment. She wondered when she could finally figure out how to tell him, and how long she would have to endure his anger until she could. Ever since he hadn't gotten the last promotion, and she had, putting her at a higher pay grade than he was, he had been oversensitive and angry. She didn't know what she could do about it. He was trying hard to not bow to traditional Indian ideas about gender, but she could tell that this had been very difficult for him. This secret she held made it worse.

She walked down the hall, and past the main receptionist, who greeted her warmly. She went down to her office, and sat at her desk. She had quite the task ahead of her. Do her regular job, as if nothing was happening, and, on top of that, help to plan how to tell the UN about the Casitians. She had begun to articulate some ideas that her team, which included Okolo from UNICEF, and Gunther from WHO, had hashed out a bit over email. It needed a lot more work, but she thought the basic idea was viable. Orchestrate a series of meetings with the highest officials before informing any of the ambassadors, and set in motion the process of mobilizing the UN to respond to the Casitians, and their conditions for environmental cleanup. Then call a general meeting with all of the ambassadors, with the full details, that they would then communicate to their heads of state. The heads of state would probably not be happy finding out about this via their UN ambassadors, but the team all felt that was the best way to secure the UN's role. That large meeting would include a visit from Casitians, with open dialogue between all parties. It would also include video footage that the main communication team was working on. She was sure this video would be convincing—Nicholas Johnson, a famous documentary video and film producer was part of the video production team. She knew they were working on two videos, one for the general public, and one for governmental agencies, organizations and corporations. This second video would have much more detail on the steps that needed to be taken. Yes, she thought, it would be possible to alert a small cadre of high officials, and have it not get out. She started to consider the options, and the ways that she would put together this group. She also needed to put in place a contingency plan, in case of a leak, which she thought was not unlikely.

San Francisco, California, Earth, July 11, 2011

David walked into what felt like a completely empty apartment. Gerard had moved out two weeks ago, quite in a hurry. David was feeling devastated, betrayed and angry. He would always be in love with Gerard and would always wish they could be together. David loved Gerard even though he had always known about Gerard's ambition. It was, of course, that very ambition that had caused Gerard to spy on and betray David. David wished, in retrospect, that he'd seen that coming. But that was water under the bridge. Gerard knew what was happening, and knew about the Casitians, and planned to use that knowledge in order to win the presidential election.

They had recently discovered that someone had an ongoing tap on David's email. It had been impossible to convince Silandra, Ja'el or Erit'ala that it was a good idea to send emails that looked authentic to that account so that Gerard and the others would not find out that the tap had been discovered. But there was really no way to convince them—they were completely committed to truthfulness, disagreeing with any level of misleading information whatsoever. So they had shut the account down. David figured that whoever was spying on him had enough information at this point, and it was important to be prepared for what they might do with it.

David's role was to lead the team that was responsible for contact with corporations, particularly those that had large effects on the oceans, such as companies that caught, packaged and sold fish, companies that dumped waste of any sort into the ocean, and petrochemical companies that explored the oceans for oil and gas reserves. Some of these companies would have to be shut down, or their activities in the ocean discontinued. The Galactics were going to provide for alternative energy, so that eventually oil, gas and coal would no longer be needed. All fishing that wasn't limited kinds of fish farming would be shut down. No waste of any type could be dumped into the ocean any more. David did not in any way relish the thought of being in boardroom after boardroom explaining why they had to radically change their business, or go out of business altogether. He knew that he would be the target of many angry executives and workers who realized they had no future. He could relate: his career also had no future. But it was going to be a tough slog. It helped that Sunan Chulaborn, an executive of the BanPad Group, which packaged huge amounts of fish, was upbeat, and thought that his company would be able to adjust and be a model for others. He and David had talked about the idea of writing up a report, and perhaps doing a documentary on the changes that his corporation did, with the hope that such a report could help other companies along. But both David and Sunan knew how difficult this was going to be.

David turned on his Galactic information unit, and asked the Artificial Intelligence to make a list of all companies that had anything to do with catching, packaging or selling ocean products. This was the first group that he and Sunan were going to work on. On the corporate team was also Maria Gomez, who owned a PR firm, and was going to help them shape their message most effectively. Primarily, that message was shaped around the big opportunities for Galactic commerce. David only half believed that Earth businesses could begin to enter the Galactic marketplace, but it was a good way to start. He'd had a frank conversation with Erit'ala about that. She assured him that she knew there were things that Earth humans would have to offer the Casitians in particular. She talked about food and food products as one large area of possible offerings. David didn't quite know how many companies would go into those realms, and couldn’t quite understand the economics if the Casitians didn’t have any money. David suspected that given the advances in Galactic technology for energy and growing food, a lot of people would be happily unemployed.

San Jose, California, Earth, July 12, 2011

Joel sat at his desk, feeling uncomfortable. Laura had just left, and they were arguing bitterly about Marianne. Joel felt that it was a problem that Marianne was living on the moon, and involved with Ja'el, which meant that Marianne was probably more Casitian than Terran, and when push came to shove, which Joel thought that it would, Marianne would choose the side of the Casitians. Joel had thought that since she was the nominal leader of those who were responsible for letting the world know about the Casitians, that she compromised the whole endeavor. Earth humans had to be the priority. Laura had felt that Joel was overreacting. Laura felt so strongly about it that she had decided that it might be a good idea for them to stop seeing each other, which made Joel even more angry at the Casitians.

Joel had been far more suspicious of the Galactic culture than Laura was, and the more he learned about it, the less he liked it. Joel felt that a planet full of mostly bisexual people was not something that he was comfortable with. He imagined that most people on Earth would not be either. And, well, they didn't do anything. They sat around, growing their stupid little crops for themselves, and, from what Joel could tell, hung out and just simply took advantage of Galactic technology, but didn't do much themselves. They hadn't developed any new technology, the science they seemed to do was completely dependent on other Galactic species. What was wrong with them? And they wanted Earth humans to be like them? Joel shuddered. This was not what he had thought aliens would be.

He opened up his IM client, and looked to see if Dwight was around. He was available. “Dwight, how's it going? I need to talk with you.”

A beep. “Yeah, I'm here. I'm surprised you are still talking to me.”

Joel typed “Look, just meet me at Archie's at 7:30, OK?”

Words appeared on his screen, “OK, I'll see you then.”

Joel left his computer, and went to take a shower, and get ready to meet Dwight. He felt nervous about what he was about to do, but he felt that it was important. No, it was necessary. He had to oppose the Casitians, even though their arrival had vindicated his career. He realized that he could use that to his advantage. He left behind the work of creating a plan to disseminate information to the scientific community. He didn't care much for that anymore. He got dressed, and walked out of his apartment.

“Dwight, I need you to go back to Enrico, and find out who hired him.” It was a dimly lit bar, and Dwight and Joel were in a back booth. Joel had ordered a whiskey on the rocks, Dwight was drinking a beer. The Giants–Yankees game was playing loudly on the big screen on the side of the room.

“You are crazy. Enrico had a hard enough time with the twenty-thousand. I don't think he ever wants to see me again.”

“I need to talk with them. I'm not happy with this situation, and I want to help oppose what's happening.”

Dwight peered into Joel's eyes. “What's wrong? They seem cool.”

“Are you nuts? Have you read the cultural summaries that are being prepared for the UN Ambassadors?”

Dwight sighed, “No, I haven't. I've been busy researching our big database of UFOs, and linking them with known activity of the Casitians over time. They match really well.”

Joel yelled at Dwight, “Dwight, this is important! Don't you get what's happening? This so-called Galactic 'civilization' is going to take over Earth civilization unless we stop them! We have to stop them!”

Dwight looked surprised. “OK, OK, I'll have a look at the cultural summaries. But anyway, I'll talk with Enrico, and give him your number—right?”

Joel nodded, “yes, that's right. Thanks. We'll be in touch.”

Joel quickly got up, left a partially finished drink, and walked out of Archie's, fuming. Why didn't people understand?

Moon Station, 41 Gont, 780/July 18, 2011

Jal'end'a looked out the window, as K'flef piloted the small shuttle. She had waited about as long as was possible to take this trip—it was time for her to visit Earth in person, meet with spiritual leaders, and better understand Earth human spirituality. She had come to realize that doing research on the moon wasn't going to be enough.

Her first stop was to visit with Lama Chatral Nangwa at his monastery in Dharamsala, India. She had decided to begin, and end, her tours at contemplative communities. The end of her tour was to visit a Camadolese Benedictine monastery in Big Sur, California. Patricia, whom she had already spent some time with, knew one of the monks there, and had gotten her invited. In all her research, she had felt that the contemplative and mystical traditions on Earth were the closest to what she had come to, in her own path. Spirituality on Casiti was a far less structured and organized thing: there were “schools” and traditions, and she was a part of the Gultur'we school, which was contemplative, and focused on understanding the mind and the heart by looking within, and by experience. Other schools were different, and had different foci and different practices and rituals. Some schools were much more focused on rational and scientific thought and practice. But people came and went from each school freely. Even teachers might start teaching in one school, then move to another, or even mix schools in how they taught. Some of what Jal'end'a did in her own practice came from a different school, the Habi'ru school, which had specific holidays that she liked to observe.

She was brought out of her reverie by a soft jolt. They had landed, right in front of the main building. She got out of the shuttle with her small bag, and she felt a brief wind, as K'flef took off. He would pick her up in a couple of days.

She walked into the main building, and saw the Lama walking toward her. “Welcome, welcome, Jal'end'a. I am so glad you have come. We are just about to start the afternoon sitting period, then after that, you can watch the dharma combat. I'll do my best to translate—but you'll probably miss some. I'm glad to answer any questions you have.”

A very young monk walked in, and the Lama and that monk exchanged a few words Jal'end'a didn't understand. “Jal'end'a, this monk will take your bag to your room. I'll show you where it is later. Do you need anything else before we sit?”

Jal'end'a smiled, “no, I'll be fine.” Sitting in meditation was exactly what she needed right now. And she was looking forward to talking with the Lama about some of the more interesting and complex parts of Buddhist philosophy she'd come across. She expected that this would be a good trip.

Moon Station, 50 Gont, 780/ August 1, 2011

Marianne felt like she was swimming up to the surface of her consciousness when the waves of pleasure finally subsided. There was Ja'el's face, looking at her with care. She bent down to kiss Marianne.

“It's wonderful to be here, Ja'el.”

Ja'el smiled, and kissed Marianne again. As she opened her mouth to speak, a soft chime sounded on the desk. Marianne groaned.

“That must be Gita, getting back to me on the final timing of the meeting I'm supposed to help facilitate at the UN.” Marianne got up from the low bed, put on her robe, and walked over to the desk, sitting down in front of the display. Gita's face appeared in the display. It appeared that she was in her car, and she looked worried.

“Hi Gita. What's going on?”

“Marianne, things are not going well. Somehow, someone leaked the information about the content of this first meeting to the US Ambassador, who is insisting on being at the meeting.”

Marianne groaned. “He believed it?”

“Apparently he has some inside information from some other source that I don't know about.”

“So what do you think?”

“We can't invite him. It would decrease the authority of the UN, and it would also raise the ire of a dozen other Ambassadors. I think the only thing we can do is skip the first step, and move onto the big meeting.”

Marianne turned to Ja'el. “Did you get that? What do you think?”

Ja'el inclined her head slightly. “Well, it sounds like the original intentions of the first meeting are now unattainable. I think it makes the most sense to move to the big meeting.”

Marianne turned back to the display. “Gita, do you think you can get all of the Ambassadors as well as the high UN officials to the meeting? And set up a follow up meeting for just the officials?”

Gita nodded, “Yes, people can feel the tension in the air. The buzz is growing.”

“Let's get this set up as soon as possible, before the press gets hold of this on their own.”

Gita said, “OK, I'll keep you posted on the meeting schedule, so that Ja'el and Silandra can be there. Is the video ready? And what about the basic materials for the UN?”

Marianne nodded, “The video is just about done, and the basic set of documents for the UN are complete. We'll be ready to go when you are.”

Gita nodded, then signed off. Marianne turned to Ja'el. “I expect that within a week, this will be public, one way or another.”

Ja'el said, “Yes, I imagine you are correct. Erit'ala, Silandra and I had a joining with Ur'lef's team. They feel prepared. The first teams of dolphins are now at the station, and discussions about the needs of the dolphins have provided all of the details that are necessary right now. The AI's have adjusted all of the documents regarding human use of the oceans. Tell me more about how the, what did you call them, 'public interest spots' are going?”

Marianne thought of her joining a few days ago with Nicholas Johnson, who was producing the videos with a combination of Casitian and Terran crew and cast. “He'd screened some of the first cuts with me, and I was impressed. His expertise, and his work with Maria, the PR woman, has helped them to create very compelling videos. I really think that that these will be convincing. When I checked in with Maria, they were in the last phases of editing.”

She worried a little bit about what they didn't talk much about. They had decided not to discuss in the first level of videos Casitian sexuality, in particular. They did decide that the basic family structure, which was similar to that of some cultures on Earth, would not be so foreign to people of Earth, and would be a good place to start. But they did intend to do interviews with the press, and be clear about all aspects of Casitian life. People would find out, eventually. But their most important focus was the beginning of the cleanup of the environment and oceans.

Marianne looked at Ja'el, who looked back with a smile. Marianne got up, shed her robe, and got back into bed, kissing Ja'el. They lay together, side by side for a while, until they could stand it no longer. They embraced, and moved together in rhythm, as the moon continued its endless journey around the Earth.

La Jolla, California, Earth, August 2, 2011

Joanne was frustrated. She was part of the team planning the process of making liaisons between the Casitians and the scientific community. Primarily, the role of this team would be to help coordinate efforts among scientists to facilitate the cleanup of the ocean. Then, after that, their role would be to do information sharing—facilitate educational processes for Terran scientists to learn from Galactic scientists. Joanne had been excited to be on this team that was headed up by Joel, and included herself, Brit Morgan, who was a physicist that studied gravity, Kyla Morgenstern, the climatologist, and Hassan Jammar, who was a radio astronomer like Joel.

The problem right at the moment was that Joel seemed to have dropped off the planet. He wasn't answering his emails, both his home and cell phones had been disconnected, and apparently he hadn't been home in days. She'd contacted Marianne, who was trying to find out what happened. In the meantime, they could do nothing.

Further, Joanne had felt completely out of the loop in terms of the contacts that the Casitians were making with the dolphins. Joanne felt like there was so much that she could share, and explain, but they were completely uninterested in her input. She felt insulted and belittled. Unlike many scientists studying Tursiops, Joanne had been convinced of their advanced intelligence very early in her career. She had to keep that understanding close to her vest. But now she was being lumped in with those who continued to promulgate the assumption that humans were the only intelligent species on the planet.

The team had a joining in two days, and unless Joel re-appeared, Joanne had no idea what would happen at that joining. She hoped that they would be able to move forward.

Moon Station, 109 Wend/August 2, 2011

“He is where?” Marianne spoke to her AI.

“Washington, DC. He is staying at a townhouse that is owned by Gerard Hopkinson.”

Marianne sighed. Damn. Joel had defected. She wasn't really surprised—but she was saddened, and Joel had a lot of information that would be very useful for Gerard. She wasn't sure how she was going to explain it to Ja'el. Casitians were terrible at understanding things like this. She also had to figure out what to do with the team of scientists—they were going to be very important. She considered the options to replace Joel as leader. Joanne had an axe to grind, and had been clearly angry at having been left out of conversations regarding the dolphins. Kyla, however, would make a good leader. She was as rising star in climatology, and had a good dose of common sense. Marianne spoke into her unit. “Please advise Kyla Morgenstern that I'd like to speak with her at her earliest convenience.”

The AI spoke “it is presently 2:45 AM in her time zone. I will leave her a voicemail message.”

Marianne heard the meal chime, put the unit down, and walked out the door.

Chapter 9: Uproar

New York, New York, August 8, 2011

The large hall was in chaos. Silandra and Ja'el had just finished their presentation. The video had been shown, and the enormity of the situation was beginning to sink in to the ambassadors and UN functionaries. The Secretary General banged a gavel. “Please be seated” boomed out, amplified. Marianne knew that this would be projected into the earphones of participants in many different languages at once.

“Please be seated!” The sound slowly began to die out. He said, “There is one more speaker, Marianne Michaelson. She will describe, in detail, the proposed next steps.” Marianne got up from her seat at the front, and moved to the podium.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know that this has been quite a shock. I know that some of you probably still don't believe this. I know that many of you are wondering what this means for the future of Earth. Let me say that I believe that the future of Earth is much more secure than it was before the Galactic Community decided to intervene. We will have help cleaning up our environment. There will be no more reason for war. Galactics have superior medical and agricultural technologies, so no one on Earth, no matter what country they live in, need die of starvation or of a disease such as Malaria or AIDS.

Yes, in the process there will be a lot of disruption. Whole industries will cease to exist. Many industries will need to radically shift the ways that they work. Many people will lose their livelihoods and careers, as I have. As Galactic culture begins to shift the way that we live and work, there will be even more changes. I imagine it will take until your children or grandchildren grow up for the changes to be complete.”

Marianne looked at the audience, who were, for the moment, attentive. “But we must start, and we must start now. For the good of ourselves, as well as the good of our compatriot species, the dolphin. It is our first priority to reverse the severe damage to the ocean that is threatening the lives of the dolphins. So I will now outline the steps that we propose the United Nations take in implementing the requirements that the Galactics have placed on Earth.

First, these requirements are broad-brush requirements, and it is up to humans on Earth to implement them. But they must happen, within the timeframe specified by the Galactic Community. There are three basic requirements we must meet: a decrease in atmospheric carbon to 1960 levels, a decrease in a specific list of air and water pollutants down to levels specified, and an increase in ocean biodiversity. The good thing is that we have Galactic scientists to help us meet our deadlines—we would be completely unable to do so with our own technology. Even though it seems impossible, it can be done, but we must start now.

It seemed to make sense to us, the initial team responsible for being the liaison between the Casitians and the Earth, that the United Nations was the body that was best in position to facilitate the implementation of a plan to reach these goals. We suggest that the United Nations be empowered by the nations of the world to act to reach these goals. However, it is ultimately up to the individual countries to make those decisions, and to empower the UN to act in their territories.

You have been given a set of documents which outline and detail the goals, and the timeframe for these goals, as well as suggested steps for implementation. We are leaving the implementation in your hands. We have liaison teams for the scientific community, corporations, and the NGO sector to help facilitate their role in this transformation. There is also a leadership team, which consists of myself, David Lopez, Diana Westinghouse, and Laura Hernandez, whose role will be oversight, direct liaison with the Galactic community, and press contact. Diana will be the UN contact person.

We would, at this time, welcome any questions you'd like to ask, or concerns you want to raise.”

The Secretary General stood up. “We will take a 15 minute break. We will entertain questions from the ambassadors after the break. If you wish to have time to speak, to ask questions, or raise concerns, please add your name to the list, and we will give each the floor to speak.”

The din was deafening as people got up and started to talk with each other, and to talk on their phones. The word would be out in minutes. Luckily, they had arranged a full press conference after this session was over. But at this point, it was unclear how long the session would last. They had decided to delay the broadcast or webcast of the session until tomorrow, after the news broke. Marianne imagined that almost every ambassador would have a question or a concern. She wasn't looking forward to it. She thought she'd take this time to go to the bathroom, and get a moment out of the din.

She walked toward the back of the hall, where she'd been told the restrooms were. She rounded a corner, and saw the large door, with the standard symbol for women on it. She walked in, and was in momentary quiet. She washed her face, and as she stood upright to find a paper towel, a hand was at her right, holding one. She looked at the woman whose hand it was, smiled, and took it, and dried off her face.

“You must be under a lot of stress right now,” the woman said, with a heavy accent.

“Well, in some ways, yes. It is going to be a long week. I don't think I know you.”

“My name is Ritva Söderström. I'm the Finnish Ambassador to the UN.”

“Hello, Ambassador Söderström. I guess you already know who I am.” Marianne smiled, and put out her hand. She clasped it enthusiastically, and shook it.

“It is very nice to meet you. Please call me Ritva. I just wanted you to know that there is at least one country that will be in full support of the Casitians.”

Marianne smiled. “To be honest, Ritva, there are only a handful of countries I'm especially worried about. Finland wasn't on that list. But I appreciate your telling me, in any case.”

“Yes, I imagine you will have your hands full with the US and China.”

Marianne grimaced. “Yes, indeed, we will. Well, I think it's time to go back.”

They turned toward the door, and made their way out, and back to the assembly hall.

New York, New York, August 8, 2011

Kirk Angler had made sure he was first on the list to speak. He had done some quick work, and made some important phone calls, and pulled all the strings he could. He even used some of his well-earned political capital. He had quite a bit to say, although he was saving most of it for the press conference afterwards. He had gotten the White House to schedule a very quick press conference the next day, to completely own tomorrow's news cycle.

He'd known about this all along. He had been at that early meeting with Gerard. He was an old political ally of Gerard's, and he'd decided that it made sense to hitch his wagon to his. He thought that Gerard could, if he used the information correctly, become president in this next upcoming election. And Kirk was going along for the ride, which is what he always did. He was going to use this to help Gerard, and help shape the opposition to the Galactic takeover of the world. He fantasized a cabinet position, or perhaps even chief of staff.

The moderator spoke. “The representative from the United States is first.”

Kirk moved forward into his microphone. “With all due respect to the Galactic community, to which Earth has not been invited, I would like to voice a real concern about the effect that these changes will have on the lives of millions, in fact billions, of people. You can't just yank out their livelihoods and lifestyles from them. This has to happen much more slowly. Give us 50 years. It can't be done in the 5 year timeframe that is required by the Galactics. The United States will not agree to this, no matter what.”

The woman named Marianne looked at one of the Galactic humans, who nodded. Marianne then stood. “Believe me, I understand the kind of disruption that will happen. But no one will starve or die, because of these changes. Everyone's needs will be taken care of. We don't need 50 years to accomplish these goals.”

Kirk then said, “Well, whether we need them or not, we are going to take longer.”

Marianne said, “You have no choice. You must implement these changes immediately, and meet the 5 year deadline.”

“Why? What will happen to us if we don't?”

Marianne then looked toward one of the Galactic women. Kirk had forgotten her name. She spoke.

“If you don't implement these changes, the Galactic community will implement them for you. This will be far less pleasant to your governments.”

“Well, how can you force us? Will you go to war with us?”

The woman smiled. “We do not go to war. That is uncivilized. Suffice it to say that our technology is far beyond what you can imagine. These changes will be implemented.”

“So if you can implement these changes without our support, why are you bothering to go through all of this trouble in getting us to implement them?”

The woman smiled again. “Because we believe in free will, and do everything we can to allow species the will to determine their own fate. However, your fate happens to include the fate of the dolphin, who is a newly introduced species in the Galactic Community. We are giving you as much room as we can, given that reality.”

Kirk then said, “So in effect, what you are saying is that dolphins are more important than people. We will not stand by while this happens. We will fight, if necessary. The American way of life and freedom is at stake here.” Kirk was angry, and he let it show. He got up from his chair, and stalked out of the room, into the crowd of reporters. He had plenty to tell them.

New York, New York, August 8, 2011

Marianne watched Kirk leave the room, and sighed. She thought that there would be half a dozen countries that would, in fact, fight. The good thing was that they didn't realize it didn't really matter. As long as the majority of the countries gave the UN the authority to act, the technologies involved in cleaning up the environment would work fine, even if a few large countries didn't get involved. There would be the mess of the selective disabling of industrial technology in those countries that did not agree. But that was the price those countries would pay, and the Casitians would make sure that they fully understood that before it happened.

The rest of the questions were mostly mundane. China also made it clear that they would not agree with the UN. The representative from Russia, surprisingly, seemed to indicate that their country would go along. Most countries, it seemed, would need time to figure out what was best. The predictable allies of the US, including the UK, Israel, and Australia, all made noises. Marianne was reminded of gorillas beating their chests. It would be interesting to see how the countries finally made up their minds.

So, what remained was the press conference. The press didn't yet have as much information as the UN delegates had. But Marianne was sure that information was making its way already out into the press, and then into the world. She realized, in retrospect, that the minute they were forced into making this large assembly meeting, instead of having the smaller meeting with just the UN staff and officials, that was the moment it all got out of their hands. Marianne chuckled at herself. All of the time they had spent preparing for it were basically of no use. The moment had passed them by without notice. Well, here they were, and she had to make the best of the chaos.

New York, New York, August 8, 2011

Silandra watched the proceedings with interest and concern. She could see an emerging pattern. Larger, more powerful countries would resist, and most of the world would not. It was the larger countries providing a nexus of resistance that Silandra found troubling. In her many hours of analysis, Silandra had mostly been puzzled by Earth politics, and although she was learning much more as this went on, but she didn't feel like she understood it any better. Certainly, the Galactic community had its politics. She remembered the dispute between the Grentia and the K'l'l'iilith about the planet they both claimed. Some species thought the Grentia had the best claim, others felt that the K'l'l'iilith were the best stewards of the planet. There were some heated discussions, and some favors exchanged. But, in the end, the Galactic community decided that they should jointly control the planet, and both species had settlements on it, that were in harmony with each other.

Silandra was beginning to predict what Marianne had called “a mess.” She tried not to encourage that set of thoughts in herself, but as the patterns began to emerge, she could see that there would be large groups of people that would be adamantly opposed to any changes in Earth societies or industry. She had known all along that there would be some resistance, and a few problems and chaos. But the patterns emerging suggested much worse. She thought that a conversation with Erit'ala was in order, as soon as possible.

New York, New York, August 9, 2011

Rita stood in the middle of the room, waiting for Marianne Michaelson and the Galactic humans to enter. Henry was also in Manhattan, having just been given the promotion to anchor a Fox news segment that was late at night. They had decided it would be best to share a hotel room, so they had booked a room at the Transcontinental, which was one of her favorites. She knew that he would be anchoring during this press conference. She hoped that she would be able to ask her questions so that he would see her.

She had tried valiantly to get people at NPR to believe her story, but no one would. Then the story broke. Because of this, she was catapulted into being the primary reporter for NPR on this story. That made her very happy. She expected that perhaps this would mean big things for her career.

She looked at her watch. It was 1:35 AM, and they had given her until 5:00 AM to get a report into NPR for Morning Edition. She was worried. If she had to, she had enough information to make a short report, but excerpts of the press conference would be key.

Another hour went by, and then she heard a lot of noise outside the room they all had been in. This suggested that the Casitians and Marianne were arriving. She had her questions ready, and was hoping that one of the Casitians would be fielding questions, because she knew that Marianne would not be likely to call on her.

A large crowd burst into the room, with Marianne's tall figure obvious in the middle, and the Casitians next to her. They all arranged themselves behind the long table in the front, and sat down. One of the Casitians said, “We have a short statement, then we will take questions.”

The statement was very much like the information she'd gotten from that UN staffer that she had talked with. There was no information she didn't know already.

“Why are dolphins considered intelligent enough to become Galactic citizens? Our scientists don't think that is possible.”

One of the Casitians said simply, “Your scientists are wrong. You did have some scientists that insisted upon the intelligence of this particular dolphin species. Most other scientists didn't listen.”

Another hand went up, “Why is it that since there are more humans on Earth than on Casiti, that Earth government doesn't become the representative to the Galactic community?”

Marianne answered, “Because human civilization on Earth does not fit the criteria for membership in the Galactic Community. The environmental degradation that we facing is only one of a number of factors disqualifying Earth society from Galactic representation.”

Questions like this continued, and they were deftly answered by Marianne, or by one of the Casitian women. One of them said, “I think we've answered enough questions for tonight. It has been a very long day, and we are all very tired. We have given out information to all of you for interview scheduling, as well as more general information sharing. Please refer to those. Thank you very much for your patience in waiting until the UN assembly was over.”

They all got up, and left the room. Rita rushed to her sound man, checking to make sure he'd gotten a complete recording. They then both got in a cab and went to the NPR studios, where they could edit the recording, and Rita could prepare her report.

When she was done, the exhaustion that she had been pushing back finally made her stumble as she walked down into the street. She wanted to grab a cab to go back to the hotel, so she could get a little sleep. It would be a busy day of getting and lining up interviews with a variety of people, watching the news coverage, reading what was being said online, and putting together another story for the evening show. She expected that it would be important for her to file two stories a day on this for at least a week. Then, perhaps, she hoped she'd finally be moved up to a host position. She knew at least one person on Morning Edition who was leaving to join CNN. At the very least, she would be the primary person who they would depend on for news and analysis about the Casitians.

She arrived in her hotel room, to find Henry sleeping on the bed. She quietly undressed, and slipped into bed next to him. She was almost instantly asleep.

She woke to the sound of a news show. She saw Henry sitting in front of the large TV in the room, watching MSNBC. That was odd, when they were somewhere with only one TV, Henry always watched Fox, or perhaps CNN, but he never watched MSNBC.

“Henry?”

He turned and looked at her. “Hi honey. Sorry to wake you. I had to see what they were saying this morning.”

“Why MSNBC? I thought 'liberal wingnuts' was how you described them.”

“Well, right now, they seem to be having the most reasonable coverage of this whole thing. Fox is getting weird.”

“Weird?”

“Well, yes, more than usual. They are talking about the US destroying the UN as a threat to US security, and suchlike.”

Rita thought a moment. “Well, I could see how they might think that. These Galactics are a real danger!”

Henry frowned. “A danger? How is that? They don't even have weapons, and what they are doing doesn't sound so bad.”

Rita scowled. How could he be so naïve? “Henry, that's ridiculous. They are lying to us, and they will continue to lie to us. They are hiding some things, I just know it. I don't think the world will end up the rosy place they say it will be. They want to control us.”

Henry got up. “I'm going to take a shower. There is no point in arguing about this now.” He went into the bathroom, and shut the door. Rita lay back in bed, pondering. She was surprised at Henry's reaction. He was usually so reasonable. So, well, conservative. She didn't like this, not at all.

Jefferson City, Missouri, Earth, August 9, 2011

Yolanda watched her sister on TV. Marianne had called her the day before, to warn her that something big was happening, and that she'd be on TV. Yolanda hadn't really believed it. But, here it was: her big sister, on the TV, talking about Galactics, humans, and dolphins. Yolanda had spent most of the past 10 years paying more attention to diapers, toys, scrapes and teaching her kids to read than she had paid attention to the world.

She was wary, though. She wondered what kind of culture those Galactics had. Especially given that there was Marianne, telling us all that Galactic human society was better than Earth human society. Yolanda didn't judge her sister, really, but her sister didn't live the lifestyle she wanted her daughters to live. She wanted them to live in a comfortable town, go to church, marry, have kids of their own. She didn't know whether this would be the kind of life Galactics lived. She doubted it. She would talk with her pastor. He would have a good answer.

The phone rang. “Hi Yo, it's mom.”

“Hi mom. Did you see Marianne on TV?”

“Yes, isn't that great, my Mari on TV!”

“I don't know mom, I'm a little wary of all that.”

She heard silence on the other end. “Yo, I think it will be good for all of us.”

“I'm going to talk with Pastor Richard. Then I'll know.”

More silence. “Yo, I think you should think for yourself sometimes.”

“Mom, please, not this again.”

“OK, Yo, I'll leave you alone. I have to go anyway. How are Bee and Leet?”

Yolanda sometimes hated her mother's penchant for abbreviating names. Beatrice and Leticia were her daughters. “They are fine, mom. When are you coming over to visit?”

“This weekend honey, OK?”

“OK mom. Bye.

“Bye.” Yolanda heard the click, and put the phone down. She could tell this might get tense between them. It didn't help that Yolanda felt that Marianne was her mother's favorite daughter, having gone to MIT and gotten a hot shot job in a big city. And all Yolanda did was stay here, and have children. She sighed. Well, best not dwell on that. She had to pick up Leticia from ballet, and she knew she'd be petulant. Yolanda wanted Leticia to grow up to be a cultured woman. Leticia seemed to only want to play basketball with her friends. She said that she hated ballet. She gathered up her keys and walked out the door.

Washington, DC, Earth, August 9, 2011

Joel and Gerard sat in Gerard's living room, which had been newly equipped with several televisions, each tuned to a different news channel. Gerard had just formed an exploratory committee, a fancy term for a group of people who were going to start to raise money for his presidential primary campaign. He was coming into the race late; the primaries were only a few months away, and the other candidates had been campaigning in Iowa and New Hampshire for months already. But Gerard thought he had an advantage. Especially now that all of the Republican candidates were voicing what he would call “lukewarm” opposition to the aliens. That's the word that Gerard was going to use. Aliens. Heck, if they could use “aliens” as a term for Mexican immigrants, he certainly could use them for the Galactic humans, and their truly alien Galactic community.

Joel had turned out to be quite useful—not only as a source of information—but in other ways. It had become clear that having a scientist bitterly opposed to the Galactic community connected to his campaign was a real asset. Gerard couldn't believe his luck in connecting with Joel.

During the coming weeks, Gerard would pull out all the stops. He had a lot of information about the alien lifestyles that the press hadn't gotten yet. For some reason, the press wasn't asking the important questions about what life was like on Casiti. Some press were going to Casiti, but by the time they got back, Gerard would have told the public everything they wanted (or, really didn't want) to know about the Casitian lifestyle. Once they knew that, Gerard felt confident that the Presidency was his.

Chapter 10: Coalescing

Moon Station, 71 Gont, 780/August 25, 2011

Marianne sat at the desk, with the large display showing multiple news shows. She was carefully observing how this was playing out. She wasn't too surprised by the range of reporting, and the way some networks were stridently opposed to them, and others much more supportive. She asked the AI to put up the most recent tally of countries that were going to work with the UN to implement changes to help reach the required goals. Very predictable, Marianne thought. Small, southern countries, with nothing to lose and everything to gain, had agreed. Nations like Finland and Sweden, more aligned culturally, saw the reasonableness of what was happening, and had also signed on, some quite enthusiastically. There were a few surprises. Russia and Israel decided to go along, and China seemed to be backpedaling from its initial stance as opposed. Marianne would be very interested to see how that finally resolved itself. India, Australia, the UK, and the Philippines hadn't decided yet. She expected them all to eventually go along. She'd had private meetings with of those heads of state, and knew that their private opinions and public stances were somewhat different, given US pressure. They were on their way to signing on as well. What they were mostly concerned with was the United States, and what it would do. She had, she thought successfully, explained that it really didn't matter. The US remained staunchly opposed, as did Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, North Korea, and Saudi Arabia, among others.

She sighed. She'd had a long joining with Silandra, Ja'el, and Erit'ala earlier. They had spent some amount of time talking about Silandra's concerns, and the probability of some major problems, both at a governmental level and at the societal level, primarily in the US. The election was coming up, and it was clear that Gerard was going to run, and provide a major focus for the opposition to the Galactic plans. They had decided to have Marianne and Ja'el give an in-depth interview on the lifestyle of the Casitians, to take the surprise about those particular issues away from Gerard. They thought that would help, but they doubted that it would be enough. The unrest and chaos that would ensue from a US with Gerard as President was troubling.

She looked over at Ja'el, who was sleeping on the bed. One of the hardest things for her recently was knowing that this relationship with Ja'el couldn't be very long-lasting. Ja'el seemed to be very much interested in continuing the Casitian habits of having a new companion every Casitian year. Yes, that still meant that she and Ja'el had some time together, but Ja'el was due to return to Casiti in about an Earth year, in Casitian winter. And after the spending the winter together, that would be the end of her relationship with Marianne. Marianne understood this at one level, and at another found it very difficult. How could all Casitians live that way?

Marianne then thought about her own future. What was she going to do? The work on Moon station, after the chaos died down, would be mundane—even boring. She needed new challenges, new things to do. But she didn't have any of the skills Casitians had. She had been meaning to have a conversation with Erit'ala about it.

In any event, she had plenty to deal with right now. She shut off the display, and slipped into bed next to Ja'el. Ja'el stirred, turned, and gave Marianne a kiss. Marianne drifted off to sleep.

San Francisco, California, September 4, 2011

“Thank you so much, Jal'end'a for coming to visit me.”

Jal'end'a smiled. “Patricia, I've wanted to see this church of yours, dedicated to a mystic, for a while now. It is quite beautiful.”

Patricia smiled in return, exuding quiet pride. “Yes, it is, isn't it? Thank you. It was quite the challenge to raise the money to get it built—but we finally did it.” They finished the tour, then went into Patricia's office. “So, not to change the topic but... I need to ask you some questions.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“We've already talked in detail about the different religious traditions of Casiti and Earth. I'm finding myself in a place where I'm having to describe Casitian religions, and I am not sure that I am doing them justice. I also have been faced, primarily by very conservative Christians, with the questions about what this means in terms of who Jesus Christ was, and who he died for. This is a very big issue for many Christians. If God is God, that means that God created all Galactic species. Some Christians think that this means that only humans fell, so Jesus only died to save humans. But that, of course leaves out other species. Others say that all intelligent creatures fell, and Jesus died for all of them. But then how do you deal with any being, human or not, who never did hear about Jesus—since, basically, the whole galaxy hasn't heard of him. Some, like the Calvinists, don't have a problem with that. Anyway, it's created quite the theological conundrum for Christians, especially. I think that Jews and Muslims have a different set of theological issues. Anyway, I have to figure out how to explain what Casitians think about who is chosen, or who is saved.”

Jal'end'a was quiet for a moment, then spoke, “Patricia, we haven't ever had theologies like those that suggest that some are 'saved' and others damned. These are foreign to us. No Casitian school has a theology which suggests that some beings are 'saved' and others not, no matter what the criteria. We do have theologies of evil, and we have struggled with why evil exists in the universe. As you might imagine, given our history as slaves, that struggle with the presence of evil in the universe was a very important question for us for a long time. Different schools have settled that question differently.”

Patricia sighed. “Yes, I imagined you would say something like that.”

“All Casitian schools basically believe that the divine is present in all beings, small and great, all over the universe. We believe that we must respect the divine presence in all beings, and work to deepen our understanding of the divine. Some schools do that by contemplation, others by ritual and worship, others by scientific investigation. Does that help?”

Patricia nodded. “It helps, I think, but it won't help those who are conservative theologically. I do have a question, though. Would you be willing to meet with the Pope, and with the Dalai Lama?”

Jal'end'a smiled. “I would love to meet with both leaders.”

Patricia furrowed her brow. “Don't think meeting with the Pope will be a cakewalk. He's very conservative.” At the puzzled look on Jal'end'a's face, she said, “I mean—don't think it will be easy.”

Jal'end'a grinned. “I didn't think it would be.”

New York, New York, September 5, 2011

Marianne and Ja'el sat at a comfortable distance apart, obviously intimate. The producer had been very intentional in the setting and arrangement. They had explained that they felt that it was important that people know that they were involved. The interviewer, whose name was Cate Ricouki, walked into the room, and smiled at them, and sat down in her chair.

“Are you ready?”

Marianne nodded, and Ja'el smiled, “Yes, we are ready.”

Cate then signaled to the producer, who looked at all of the crew, and said “We're all set, Cate.”

Cate said her introductory comments, and then started the questions.

“So, Marianne and Ja'el, why are you doing this particular interview?”

Marianne said, “We felt that it was important that people learned as much as possible about life on Casiti, and how humans have been living in the Galactic community for thousands of years.”

“Would you say that the lifestyle that is led today on Casiti is similar to that of a thousand years ago?”

This time, Ja'el answered. “We have been living in very similar ways for approximately twenty-five hundred years. It took us about five hundred years after being given the planet of Casiti to stabilize our society.”

Cate decided to shift the questions a little. “So, give me some details of how Casitians live, then.”

Ja'el then talked about basic family structure, explaining that most Casitians spent almost three-quarters of their year in their own dwellings, working, growing food, and possibly raising children.

“And the other half?”

Ja'el said, “The other part of the year is from very late Casitian fall, after the end of the fall harvest, through early Casitian spring, before the beginning of planting. During that time, Casitians who are not in the early stages of raising children, or in the later stages of their lives, find a companion to spend that time with.”

“So you are telling me that Casitians spend a quarter of the year with a “companion”—would that be a lover?”

Both Marianne and Ja'el nodded.

“And then you move on, the next year? To more work, more planting, then, a different companion?”

Ja'el said, “for most, yes, basically. Remember, the Casitian year is four Earth years.”

Cate nodded. “And I am to understand that at the present time, you are companions?”

It was Marianne's turn to speak. She had rehearsed this part. “Yes, we are. It was a somewhat unusual circumstance, since we are not on Casiti. Both Ja'el and I have had previous women companions, or what I would have called lovers.”

“Do most women on Casiti have women companions? And I guess that also includes the corollary question, do most men have male companions?”

Ja'el shook her head. “No, not at all. Almost all Casitians have companions of both sexes during their lives.”

Cate looked surprised. “So you are saying that most Casitians are bisexual?”

Ja'el nodded. “Yes. There are a few who choose companions of only one sex, but most have had companions of both sexes, and continue in that way. I've had two male companions, and three female companions.”

Cate went deeper. “So do the Casitians who choose to have companions of only one sex choose companions of the same, or opposite sex?”

Ja'el shook her head, perplexed. “Why does that matter?”

Cate said, “I think our viewers will be interested.”

“I'm not even sure I know. I've known people who choose to have companions of either the same or opposite sex. I imagine it's about even.”

Marianne jumped in. “Actually, Kinsey would be completely unsurprised by Casiti. It's what he discovered about human sexuality 50 years ago. Most humans are bisexual, with a few on either end who are exclusively heterosexual, or exclusively homosexual.”

Cate said, “Well Kinsey was somewhat discredited in his time, and people nowadays don't pay too much attention to that research. Do Casitians expect Earth humans to adopt Casitian social norms?”

Marianne had also rehearsed this. “We assume that most people in most countries will continue within their own social structures. We have no intention of imposing Casitian culture onto Earth. However, we also expect that some people on Earth will find Casitian social and family structure to be better suited to them, and will adopt it.”

“Don't the Casitians have anything to learn from Earth social structures?”

Ja'el visibly blanched, and Marianne looked surprised, and said, unguardedly, “Like what?” She realized her mistake too late. She knew already that the producer and Cate were interested in making the most out of the cultural clash between the Casitians and Earth humans. And that exchange was going to make it worse.

Cate said, “Well, I think that in certain circumstances, Earth humans have done well. I have come to understand that your technology hasn't improved over three thousand years, and that you depend on Galactics for all of your science and technology. It seems to me you could learn something there.”

Ja'el said, “As for science and technology. Well, we were doing complex quantum physics and computational biology when you were still writing on stone tablets. Yes, most of that comes from Galactics, but we live in a Galactic Community that cooperates.”

Marianne jumped in, “You wouldn't say that it was a problem that American scientists used research from other countries, like Germany or the UK, would you? I don't think they have anything to be ashamed of.”

There were more questions, but Marianne realized that this was not going to be the positive interview that she had thought it would be. She had been naïve about the intentions of Cate Ricouki, and she thought that it was possible that the interview would end up being divisive. She hoped not.

Detroit, Michigan, September 5, 2011

David and Sunan were cooling their heels in the waiting room outside the boardroom. David was nervous about this board meeting. Except for the US, every country in the world that produced or bought cars, under UN leadership, had now adopted CAFE standards for cars that were dramatically better than previous standards. Some in the US car industry had called them draconian. The UN CAFE standards were such that no car sold could get less than 150 miles per gallon. The Galactics had given all of the car companies of the world a host of technologies that would allow the creation of cars that used alternative fuels, electricity, or used very little gas.

The trick would be to convince the US car companies to use that technology, and sell cars throughout the world, including inside the US. But Motors Universal, and other US manufacturers, were up against both the US government, which was asking it not to use Galactic technology, and unions, who felt that it was too much of a burden to ask their members to get re-trained so that they could build these cars. David had to first try and convince the board about the reasonableness of the new standards, the ease of transition, and the increased markets overseas, which had the higher CAFE standards. If he couldn't convince them that way, he then had to tell them that if they did not adopt the new technology, they would be shut down. He hoped he didn't get to that part.

The doors opened up, and someone beckoned them inside the room. David started the presentation he'd given to two other auto manufacturers already, to positive responses. He was stopped half-way through.

“There really is no point in trying to convince us. We've made our decision already. We will not be using Galactic technology. Period. We can still sell cars in the United States.”

David sighed. “I think you need to reconsider. It really would be in your interest...”

“Save your breath. Is that all you have to say? If there is nothing more, you can leave now.”

David held his breath for a moment. “Well, there is one more thing. If you choose not to adopt Galactic technology, you will be shut down.”

“Who is going to shut us down? The US government is behind us!”

“The Galactics will shut you down. We cannot have cars that get less than 150 miles per gallon of gasoline on the roads. They will prevent you from making any new cars as of December 31st, unless you choose to implement the new technology.”

“They can't do that! We'll get the government to intervene.”

David sighed again. “There is nothing you, nor the US government, can do about it.”

The chairman got up angrily. “You have no right to threaten us! Get out of here.”

David and Sunan got up, and left quickly. In their vehicle, they looked at each other. Sunan said, “That wasn't so surprising. They, on the other hand, will be surprised come December.”

David nodded, and recorded the failure in his device.

San Francisco, California, Earth, September 9, 2011

It was late Friday night, and Patricia was writing her sermon. She hated when she had less than 48 hours for a sermon to percolate in her mind before she gave it. But in this case, she'd had no choice. The things that were happening were happening so fast. She was to give a sermon this week on the Casitians—and their spirituality. She really had learned a lot in her time with Jal'end'a, and she was becoming rather fond of Casitian theology. She was happy with the sermon, but she was not looking forward to tomorrow evening, when she was to be on a live news show opposite Jason B. Modes. He was a right-wing evangelical who had been all over the news and TV spewing hatred toward the Casitians, and suggesting that they were a tool of Satan and a harbinger of the end times.

But she felt nothing except her continued sense of the mystery and wonder of God manifest in the new things they knew about the universe. And it was this feeling she was trying to convey in her sermon.

It was amazing to her how similar their views on God were to her own, and to a whole host of mystics of all traditions. Casitians did have a diversity of religious practice, but they seemed to be able to live with that diversity, and also live with a wide diversity of ideas about God and the nature of the universe. Her discussion with Jal'end'a had been fascinating, and one which allowed her to better understand why human societies ended up with such different beliefs and practices. Casitian approaches to understanding God were sometimes similar to those of Earth humans. Yet they held onto their own beliefs and opinions much less tightly than we did on Earth. She thought that perhaps we could learn something from them.

The next afternoon, as she was reading over a printout of the sermon, she heard a honk outside. She gathered up her things, walked out of her door, and into the car that had been sent to collect her. The driver greeted her, and she answered briefly. They spent the next twenty minutes in silence.

He then asked, “Excuse me, but aren't you going to talk about the religion of the Casitians today?”

Patricia smiled, “Yes, mostly. I'm also going to talk about how I think it impacts us, and our religion.”

He nodded. “I think it's a good thing, really. I mean, there is nothing saying God couldn't have created more planets than this one. My pastor thinks this is all a ruse, all a big game that Satan is playing. But I just can't believe that.”

Patricia answered, “I don't believe that either. The Casitians and other Galactic species have beliefs that are very similar to many of the beliefs that we hold. I think that it makes the most sense to go with a more expansive view of God. Don't you?”

He nodded. “I might visit your church sometime.”

“Please do!”

They arrived at the building with the studio. Patricia thanked the driver, and went upstairs to the studio. It was a surprisingly busy place, with people running to and fro, and rooms full of screens and equipment. She was guided to a smaller room that had a couple of couches, and a few people milling around.

“Reverend Warren, this is the Reverend Modes.” She shook his hand, and he smiled. He seemed a nice fellow, although she knew that his ideas were far from her own. They made some small talk, as the producers and crew came in and out of the room. There was a TV monitor on the wall, with whatever was happening on the channel at the moment. It appeared to be a heated discussion between pundits about whether or not the US should oppose the Galactics.

Shortly after the makeup artist had finished with them, a producer came into the room, telling them it was time. They were directed to a larger room, with a couple of desks, and lots of cameras. She sat down where she was directed, as did the Reverend Modes, and the host, a younger man, asked them whether they were ready. They both nodded.

A crew member pointed at a digital clock on the wall behind the cameras, which was counting down from thirty. Patricia straightened up and looked at the host, ready for the conversation. She knew it was going to be difficult.

“Welcome all, to Point-by-Point. I am John Chan, and with me are Reverend Patricia Warren, of St. Julian's Episcopal here in the city, and Reverend Jason B. Modes, of Trinity Church of Christ, in Sacramento. I want to welcome you both to the show.”

“Thank you John, it's great to be here,” said Jason Modes.

Patricia said, “Thank you very much, John, for this opportunity to talk about the religious issues around our new reality as a part of a Galactic community.”

Jason frowned, but said nothing. John said, “Rev. Modes, may I start with you? What has the arrival of the Casitians, and the knowledge of a Galactic civilization taught you about what the truth might be, and about God?”

He straightened up, and said loudly, “It has taught me the length that Satan will go in the last days to deceive us, and put in place the government of the anti-christ! Nothing that the Casitians say is true.”

Patricia had to suppress rolling her eyes. She looked at him and mustered as much tolerance and compassion as was possible, given what he had just said. John turned to her, and asked, “What is your response to that?”

“What I have learned from the arrival of the Galactic humans is that God is a lot bigger, and a lot more interesting, than I originally thought. What I have learned from the Casitians is that all Galactic civilizations have some notion of the divine, or the supernatural. The structure of that belief and the structures of religious practice differ widely, just as they do here. And within most Galactic civilizations are individuals and groups with diverse notions about God.

What has been fascinating to me is that although the Galactic community has technology that is far beyond ours, and some of its societies have a recorded history that spans back from before we were even primates, they all still ask the same questions that we ask. Why are we here? How did we end up here? Who or what was behind the initial events that created the universe?”

Jason was clearly uncomfortable, and John called on him. “Reverend Modes? What do you think about what Reverend Warren had to say?”

Jason said, “I don't need Casitians to ask my questions for me. All of my answers are in my Bible. Anything that is not in the Bible is not of God, but of Satan, and a deception of Satan. God created only one Earth. Only one Adam and Eve. This is all a deception, and we will soon see what that looks like, after they have taken over the world.”

Patricia looked at Jason Modes. “Excuse me Reverend Modes. The Bible says that God created the Earth. The Bible doesn't say that God didn't create others. Are you suggesting that we limit God to what the Bible actually says God did? Doesn't that limit God to human imagination? Don't you think God is bigger than that?”

When Jason pulled out his Bible, Patricia knew that she'd lost, even though most people in the audience would agree with her, in the end. But she couldn't win an argument with his worldview. The conversation continued along in that vein, with Jason quoting scripture, and Patricia having to be in the position of saying things like “Well, if you want to take it literally...”

John, thankfully, gave her the last word. “I think there is a lot to learn from the Casitians. Their systems of belief are remarkably similar to those of mystics of many traditions, including Christian. No, they haven't answered any big questions for us, but they have shown us that we have been asking the right questions all along.”

She left the studio with a better understanding of what was going to happen next. Opinions were hardening. Opposition was growing, and fracturing relationships between people. Things were going to get much worse before they got better.

Tijuana, Mexico, Earth, September 12, 2011

Laura got off the plane, and entered the airport. It was hot and stuffy. She remembered that the Mexican government had been having some trouble with its electricity grid. She hoped that the new Galactic power generating technology would be able to help them soon. She was in Tijuana to meet with a few NGOs, to talk about ways that they could tap into the system that the Mexican government and the UN had set up, with Galactic help, to provide people with adequate food, water and medicine. The Earth team agreed with the Casitians that this was a good avenue to provide everyone in the world the basics of living. Housing was going to be one of the hardest things to tackle. Water wasn't so easy either, but the Galactic desalinization technology could provide enough fresh water for everyone. They all knew that what was ultimately necessary was a decrease in population, but that would take decades to achieve.

A stocky man with a sign with her name on it was standing in the large group of people waiting for people to arrive.

She walked over to him, and said in Spanish, “Hello, I'm Laura.”

“Hi, I'm Raul. I'm working with Citizens for Health here in Tijuana, and I've been assigned to take you to your hotel, and then take you to our offices.”

“Thank you Raul. Have you been working for CFH for a long time?”

“No, I'm new. I just moved to Tijuana about two months ago. I used to own a fishing boat, and would fish off of Baja. But there was no fish to catch anymore, so I came up here. My cousin Panchita works for CFH, and when they got all of the new money from the government, she offered me a job. I like it a lot. I feel like I'm doing some good. And I can take care of my family.”

“That's good to hear, Raul. We have a lot to do, of course.”

Raul nodded, and showed her to his car. He opened the trunk, and put her bags inside. She got in, and they started the drive to downtown Tijuana.

Washington, DC, Earth, September 12, 2011

Rita turned the key in the lock of the door of their home. What a disaster. She slammed the door behind her, and threw her bags on the couch in the living room. She'd eventually deal with them, but not now. It had been the worst month of her life.

First, Henry quit Fox. Quit! After working so hard, and getting an anchor spot, he decided that they weren't covering the Galactic story correctly. So he quit. And he got in touch with his old friend Maria Gomez, who owned a PR firm that had been working for the Casitians. She offered him a job, which he took. So he had flown immediately to San Francisco, and would be living there. Rita had been taken off the Galactic beat on NPR, because, in the words of the news director, “she wasn't objective enough.” In other words, she opposed the Casitians, and that showed. These things had been too much for both her and Henry, so they had decided to separate for a while. She hated how much he liked the Casitians, and she hated how much they had changed her life. She hated their lifestyles, and their smug self-importance. She hated their insistence that Terrans were inferior, and that they had messed things up for dolphins. Dolphins! What did she care about dolphins?

Moon Station, 98 Gont, 780/September 15, 2011

Erit'ala and Marianne were sitting at a table in the common dining room, having a cup of fuge. Marianne had come to like fuge. It was kind of like mocha, but kind of like tea. Maybe a mix of coffee and chai. And they used some sort of creamy thing, but she knew it wasn't milk, since they didn't have dairy products.

“Marianne, I don't think that you need to worry about your lack of scientific or technical training. Honestly, I think that the best role for you is to be involved in the human species relationship within the larger Galactic community. You have shown yourself to be quite good at organization, and good at talking to different people and helping them work together. I think you would make a very good student of the human contingent of the Sejo, for instance. When this has all settled down, and it is time for you to move on, I think you should visit Casiti. You have done so well here. Working under one of the Sejo teachers for a time would be exactly the right thing for you. And they would appreciate your perspective and point of view.”

“Thank you for your confidence Erit'ala. I am learning the Casitian language, so I hope that when I am able to go to Casiti, I'll be able to speak to everyone.”

Erit'ala nodded. “Good, that's the most important part of your training at this point.”

They finished their fuge, got up, and went their separate ways. Marianne felt better about things now. She felt like she had a future, apart from Earth.

Chapter 11: Tursiops

Hol'venif, Casiti, 140 Gont, 780

Hetz'lef was in the process of harvesting his crops. He was happy with how this year's plan turned out. He had tried a couple of new varieties, and already it was clear that the result of those experiments had been quite positive. He realized that next year, quite likely, he would be trying some of the Earth food crops. He had been keeping track of what was happening in the Sol system. He had signed up to be part of a test group who would grow Earth plants next year. He had heard such wonderful things about Earth food.

He hadn't, however, heard much wonderful about Earth, although he thought that much of what he heard must be exaggeration. It couldn't possibly be that bad. People killing other people every day? Killing a more intelligent species, and a peaceful one at that? Making women act and live in specific ways? Limiting who people could become companions with? It all sounded, well, impossible. He looked forward to hearing from someone who had come back, and had actually been on Earth.

In any event, he looked forward to next year, when he could try some Earth crops. The head teachers in agriculture weren't sure that the Earth plants would grow well on Casiti, but there was no way to finally know until experiments were done. They had suggested that perhaps there might be some limited tests during the winter in the communal greenhouses. Hetz'lef wanted to be sure to visit those when the time came.

He went inside his dwelling, and noticed the message chime ringing. Two messages, one from Silandra, and one from Torf'ki. He read the one from Torf'ki first. Hetz’lef had brought up the idea of being companions this coming winter. Torf'ki seemed to be very interested. His message was a wonderful, playful one, full of affection, with a tinge of desire. Hetz'lef decided to set aside some time the next day to compose a message for Torf'ki. It was worth working on a good one.

He opened the message from Silandra. She was doing well, and wanted to know how things were going back home. She wondered what things he was hearing about Earth on Casiti, and how people were reacting. He settled in to send her a message. He was glad they were corresponding; he was interested in her experiences and point of view.

Moon Station, 140 Gont, 780

Ur'lef got up from the display, and went to the common room for the midday meal. He had been very happy about what had been going on with the parn'litd'shoms, or as the Earthers called them, 'dolphins.' Ur'lef had spent the last few days on Earth, at one of the gathering points. The AI's had finally gotten the last of the translation issues resolved, and it was relatively easy for the Casitians and the parn's to talk. He had spent a wonderful afternoon swimming with them, communicating what was happening, and describing what the next steps would be.

Ur'lef had a knack for working with other species, especially those that lived in different kinds of environments. He'd just finished work on the fifth planet of the Hulteron system. The planet was a gas giant, and had a species that they called the Gl'liferon. They were a lot like the parn's in a way. They swam in the atmosphere, especially deep down in the lower layers. He had been in a specially designed ship, so that he could communicate with them. They had been the newest species before the parn's to join the Galactic community. He was still in touch with a few friends he'd made among the Gl'liferon, especially AiiAooa, who he had become very close with. AiiAooa now lived on the station close to the Hulteron system, and was working with the Galactic Community.

Ur'lef went back to thinking about the parn's, and the humans on Earth. He knew that there had been a diversity of opinions about the intelligence of the parn's, but there seemed to only have been feeble attempts to help them. And when human self-interest came into play, the parn's always lost. Well, that train of thought was really not especially useful, Ur'lef realized. That time was over.

He walked into the common room, looking forward to the meal. He'd heard that the group cooking this week had incorporated some apparently very tasty Earth food into the meal. Like all Casitians, he had learned that they had a natural taste for food from Earth.

They had brought up an Earth agronomist, who had helped them establish an efficient hydroponics system, based on Galactic technology. It would soon generate enough Earth produce to feed the entire station. But for now, there were just tantalizing tidbits of food. They had also found an Earth chef who was interested in working on the moon station.

There were an increasing number of Terrans that wanted to work on the Moon. Last Ur'lef heard, there were 10 Earth humans living on the moon, including Marianne, the head of the liaison team. Ur'lef hoped that no more came up. He didn't much care for Terrans, for the most part, although he got along fine with Marianne.

He went to the large hot table, and took samples of the varied food that had been prepared. It all smelled wonderful.

“Hi Ur'lef. Oooh, sweet potatoes! I have been craving them enough that I might have had to go back down to Earth for a meal!” Marianne smiled at Ur'lef, and added in Casitian, “They are really good, you'll like them.”

Ur'lef was surprised. She was learning Casitian? That seemed so unlike the other Earth humans he had interactions with, especially the ones from that dominant country, the one Marianne came from. He said in Casitian, “I am grateful, Marianne, I'll try them.”

He took some sweet potatoes, something that Marianne told him was a kind of steamed green, and something else he was told was fermented soybeans. He sat down at a table near one of the large windows, looking out at the new construction. Re'il came by, and, with an inclination of his head, wondered whether he could join Ur'lef. Ur'lef nodded, and Re'il sat down. They both sat for a bit in silence looking at the construction activity.

Re’il finally said, “Many blessings, Ur'lef. It's been a while since I've seen you.” Re'il and Ur'lef had been companions, many years ago, back on Casiti. They knew each other well.

“Blessings on you, Re'il. Yes, I've been pretty busy with the parn's, and you've been busy with the new mining project. How is that going?”

“We basically have completed the first phase. All of the basic mining equipment is in place, and we are generating several tons of raw materials for the construction project each day, so we're ahead of their demand. It feels good to have completed it so quickly. I expect I'll be able to return home before the end of Paqn. And the second phase is so easy to handle that the students I've left here can take care of it.”

“That sounds wonderful. I'm looking forward to some extended time back home. I had been on Hulteron before this, and I haven't been home in a couple of years. I want to spend a year at home before I go out and work again. Luckily, there aren't any new species on the horizon for a while.”

Re'il said, “Well, this assignment certainly has been, well, like getting stuck in a northern cave for the winter, and wondering if one will get eaten by the garl'olia!”

Ur'lef laughed. “You really don't like it here, do you?”

Re'il frowned. “The Earth humans are worthless. I can't believe what they have done to their planet, and what kind of society they have constructed.”

“Well, remember that if our ancestors had never been kidnapped, this is all that humanity would be.”

Re'il snorted angrily. “It is my contention that the Tud'scla took the most intelligent and wise of the humans to be slaves, and left the rest.”

Ur'lef furrowed his brow. “You know that is unlikely. Besides, we had the benefit of help from, the Galactic Community. Earth humans had no such help, until now.”

“You sound like you are defending them!”

Ur'lef sighed. “Re'il, I don't like them anymore than you do, but we have to live with what exists. We have to help them come to a new place of understanding. My responsibility is to the parn's, and if we don't get Terrans to understand, and change, the parn's will suffer.”

Re'il said, “Well, I don't envy you your task. I can just work with my students, and my mining equipment, and go home when I'm done.” He seemed agitated.

Ur'lef put his hand on Re'il's arm, sending calm, and love. “Re'il, you think this won't affect life on Casiti? There are 60 million of us, and 7 billion of them. It is inevitable that this will affect life on Casiti, in some way, eventually.”

Re'il said, “Ur'lef, there will be Earth humans on Casiti when I can grow crops outside during Klef. I can’t believe the Caraj would allow any Terrans on Casiti, and I don't imagine many Casitians willing to have them.”

Ur'lef sighed. “Re'il, first of all, not all Terrans are problematic. Take Marianne, for instance. She is learning Casitian, has Ja'el for a companion, and seems, from what I can gather, to much prefer our culture to her own.”

“Yes, there will be a few of those, I'm sure, but not many. And I don't think that any should come to Casiti without having discarded Earth culture.”

“I don't know how you can control that entirely, Re'il. I'm sure even Marianne has remnants of her culture that will come out now and again. Things will change.”

Re'il scowled. “I won't like them, you can be sure of that.”

Ur'lef said, “Re'il—if we go about this carefully, the changes might even been good ones. Change can be good. I think we've gotten a little stagnant, honestly.”

Ur’lef could tell that Re'il remained unconvinced. They finished their meal, got up, and gave each other a farewell blessing and clasped arm hug. Ur'lef was troubled. He wondered how many other Casitians had the same prejudices against Terrans. He left the common dining area, and went back to his quarters to prepare for another period of time in the Earth ocean.

Moon Station, 1 Paqn, 780

Erit'ala got up from her meditation and sat at her desk, requesting information from her AI about the status of the implementation of plans at the UN. Erit'ala had been worried early on in the process, when it looked as though many countries would go against the Galactic community. Now it seemed that the United States, together with a handful of small countries, would oppose the Galactic community. Otherwise, everyone else was willing to work with the UN. They had been able to start medical and food programs going in the poorest of countries, and also begin working with local organizations to improve overall conditions for people. Most of that hadn't required very much Galactic expertise—once people had been given the permission and resources, the technologies that were already in existence on Earth had been sufficient. A few desalinization plants, and some nanobot colonies—to digest large dumps, and reclaim the land and the materials, as well as clean up waterways—had helped quite a bit. The good news was it seemed that this had helped the world take the Galactics much more seriously.

All of the wars, except the one war the United States had with Iran, who had also rejected the UN and Galactics, had stopped. Erit'ala was scheduled to go to a joining the next day to discuss the war, as well as the general question of disabling US technology. They had already delivered to the current president their ultimatum, which he had considered. It seemed that perhaps he was going to give in, after all. Marianne and Silandra had many meetings with him, and it seemed that perhaps that was helping. Marianne had tried to explain to Erit'ala the “pressures from different constituencies” that the president had to deal with. It confused Erit'ala. She thought she never would understand Earth politics. It was clear what had to be done. People were being killed, and it was silly to continue to do that. Why couldn't they understand how uncivilized war was? She was mystified.

For the most part, it seemed things were going well. The nanobot colonies that they had released into the ocean were beginning to have their effect, as had the atmospheric scrubbers. She had gotten a report from the team responsible for that work, and it seemed likely that they would reach their goals well within the timeframe originally specified. She hoped the US would go along. If it insisted on obstruction, it would have to be disabled. She didn't like that possible outcome, and didn’t like the attitude of the current president, and hoped that a new president would help matters. They had been unsuccessful in working with the front runners of one of the “parties” as Marianne called them, but were working closely with the candidates of the other “party.” Erit'ala shook her head. She was glad that she had Marianne to help. This would have been an impossible task without someone translating what was happening for them.

A quiet chime beeped on her display. She had a new message from Gler'yon, her companion of last year. She wondered how he was. She listened to the message, which was created in Gler'yon's wonderful style. He was so artistic. She wished she had been able to create more than the generic messages to send. She could have had her AI generate something, but that felt like it didn't really reflect her. In his message he wished her well, and wondered how she was doing. He had started on a new project, which sounded fascinating. He had read about the Terran art of plays, and thought that if they created plays for Terrans using Casitian subjects and stories, that Terrans might understand them better. It was a wonderful idea. Casitians had never developed that particular art form, probably because “pretending” was so difficult for Casitians. He would be coming to the moon within the year. It would be nice to have Gler'yon here. She thought, too, that this would be a perfect kind of collaborative project for Earth humans and Casitians. She took the short synopsis of the project he'd attached, and sent it off to Marianne for her information, and comment. She looked forward to hearing what Marianne thought.

Erit'ala thought a little bit about the varied reactions that she'd encountered in Casitians about Terrans. It ranged from Re'il's—who openly hated them—to Gler'yon, who wanted to take an Earth art form, and help them understand Casitians using it. That sounded enlightened of him, especially given the preponderance of people like Re'il. She wondered what kinds of other artistic exchanges she could encourage. It might help both sides. It amazed her how divided they could be, even though they were the same species.

She realized that Casitians had 780 years, or about 3000 Terran years, of peace and unity, with virtually no hard and fast divisions between them that caused conflict. On Casiti, there were always differences of opinion about all sorts of things, but Casitians seemed to be able to take all of that in stride, in a way that Terrans were not. She wondered what Casitians might be like if they hadn't had the unifying experience of captivity by the Tud'scla. Would they be just like the Earth humans? And then she remembered the Za’aref, the accursed. She shuddered, and drove the thought of them from her mind. It was something the Terrans didn’t need to know about.

Sol Station, 1 Paqn, 780

H'terinon sat at his desk, impatient. He asked his AI about the status of the Keeelo decks. “They are within 95% of completion.” H'terinon was responsible for the entire station, and lately it seemed like things were going wrong. The decks for the Keeelo were taking too long to finish. The decks for the parn'litd'shoms were also not complete. Part of the problem was that the Caraj and the Sejo seemed to be at odds over how many resources to send to the station. The Galactic council wanted as many resources as possible, so that they could provide for the parn's. The Caraj, on the other hand, wanted to limit the amount of personnel required at the station, because they were afraid of too much interaction between the Terrans and Casitians. The Sejo was bowing to what they felt was the greater wisdom of the human council, but H'terinon was on the wrong end of that disagreement. He needed more students!

And, in the last message from Ril’tor, his Caraj liaison, Ril’tor made it clear that he wasn't going to get them, and he would have to make due. He explained to Ril’tor that the Caraj and Sejo could not expect things to get completed on the same timetable as originally planned. Ril’tor had bowed to the inevitable delays.

H'terinon liked his role. He liked working with the Keeelo, and he was looking forward to working with the parn's as well. He hadn't yet met a Terran, but everything he'd heard about Earth didn't really make him enthusiastic. He had even watched a bit of “television” that had been translated by AI's. It was astonishing and confusing. He had read much of the recent analysis by Casitian healers and teachers, but that didn't help much. The writing of the historians was even more confusing. Ah, well, luckily that wasn't his job.

He turned back to his display, and tried to work with his AI to figure out how to get the Keeelo decks complete before the shipload of Keeelo engineers showed up in a month.

Moon Station, 1 Paqn, 780

Silandra was happy they had decided to do this joining here, on the moon, instead of on Earth. She didn't much like going down for meetings. The noise, the heat, the crowds—it was often too much for her. Around her sat three Earth humans, Maria Gomez, Nicholas Johnson, and someone she'd not met yet, Henry Reid. Maria had given her a synopsis of his story, which she had promptly forgotten, something about a strange television network. Also with her was Jur'tic, who had worked with Nicholas on the videos to show to Terrans. And Erit'ala had wanted to sit in on this joining, even though it wasn't necessary. She was taking an increasing interest in the ways that Earth and Galactic humans were communicating with each other.

“Thank you all for coming. We're here to talk about the upcoming, what did you call them?”

Maria filled in, “Public interest spots. They will primarily go on the net, some will be broadcast.”

“Yes, the public interest spots. Thank you. I understand that you have a few done, around particular themes. Shall we screen them now?”

Maria nodded. She asked the AI to project the first, which had the theme of Casitian art. It was a nice overview of the ways that Casitian art was displayed, with comparisons to Earth murals and other forms of public artwork.

“We were careful to steer clear of one particular public art form that many Terrans find problematic—graffiti.”

“I've seen some art that I was told by Marianne was considered graffiti. I thought it was quite creative and wonderful. Why do some humans dislike it?”

Henry answered, “Well, many people feel it is a defacement of public or private property.”

“You mean they would rather look at blank walls? That seems odd.” Silandra looked genuinely puzzled.

Erit'ala asked, “Is this because the artists were not given permission to do their artwork?”

Henry answered, “Yes, basically. People who do artwork in ways that are not permitted are considered criminals, not artists.”

Erit'ala said, “As you know, this seems completely strange to us. Even beginner art is better than a blank wall in a public space!”

Maria spoke next, “Well, remember that on Earth, there are few truly public spaces. Almost every space is owned, or controlled by individuals, companies or governments.”

Nicholas said, “Let's move on, please? We could get caught in this kind of discussion for hours, and I have to return to Earth soon.”

Silandra was slightly insulted, but let it go. “OK, let's look at the second one. This is about raising children.” Maria asked the AI to bring up the second video, which they all watched.

Silandra said, “I don't think it's clear enough that the parents are not also companions. Earth humans will make that assumption, and it's the wrong one to make.”

Nicholas nodded. “I agree, except I'm not sure how to incorporate that in a way that won't be too awkward.”

Maria suggested, “Why not include some shots of adults gathering, in ways that include the adults’ companions—so it's obvious what's going on.”

Silandra said, “that sounds like a good idea.”

Nicholas agreed, and said, “why don't Jur'tic, Henry and I work on revising the script for this spot.” Henry and Jur'tic agreed.

They went through the rest of the spots, suggesting changes and additions, and set a timetable for completion, translation to other languages, and netcast and broadcast. Most of the TV networks around the world had agreed to broadcast these. Some networks in the United States refused, but others agreed. They would go up on video streaming sites everywhere. Both Silandra and Erit'ala were interested in the results of the videos.

Maria said, “After the videos run, we have a series of evaluation studies planned. First, a large set of phone surveys, and then some focus groups, at varied intervals. It should be interesting to see how this works.”

Erit'ala said, “I'm glad, Maria and Nicholas, that you had these ideas. We would have never come up with such a technique to inform, and, as you say, persuade people. On Casiti, we just inform, and assume Casitians will come up with the proper decisions. But Earth humans seem not to work that way. That said, I’m beginning to be afraid that some Casitians might need persuading to accept Terrans. Anyway, thank you all for your work, and for a good joining.”

They said their farewell blessings and went their separate ways, Henry and Jur'tic to work together on the videos, Maria and Nicholas back to Earth. Erit'ala and Silandra stayed and talked a bit, and switched to Casitian.

“Silandra, I was, for a while, worried about Terrans, and how they will respond to us. Now, I am worried about Casitians.”

Silandra nodded. “I understand, but I am not so worried. I think that we will all come around, soon. Especially as the Terrans become more accepting of the future.” Silandra placed her hand on Erit'ala's arm, sending her emotional and psychic assessment of the other Casitians she'd talked with. Erit'ala accepted the sending, and incorporated it into her own sense of what was happening. It was encouraging.

“Thank you Silandra. I'll take this all into consideration. I told you about the upcoming joining that is about this topic. Will you come?”

“Yes, I'll be there. Blessings, it's time for me to go.”

“Blessings, Silandra.”

They left the joining room, and went to their respective quarters.

Waters Off of Baja California, Earth, 6 Paqn, 780

He was getting splashed mercilessly. The parn’ named Q'q'aaliiin, which was the AI's translation of a name he couldn't hear, was playing with him.

“So... you aren't so good in water! You people think you're good at everything!” Q'q'aaliin was teasing him.

“You know as well as I do that we aren't so good at things you are good at.” He dived under the parn,’ tickling him on the belly, and came back up.

“But I can tickle you!”

Q'q'aalin gave a sound that the AI translated as a laugh. Ur'lef was equipped with earphones and a subvocalization pickup, with the translation system the AI's designed, so he could freely swim, and talk with the parn's. He loved it. He had been swimming with this pod all afternoon. They would take turns towing him around, and then they would stop and play some, then tow him some more.

Parn's tended to have their most complex discussions while they were deep underwater. The surface was for play. He was also equipped with a gill system, so he could follow the parn's as deep as they went, as long as they towed him, and allowed him to come. This afternoon, they hadn't wanted to. He wasn't sure why—he'd dived deep with them before.

On that previous occasion with them, where he'd spent a full day diving and playing, he learned a lot about how they felt about Casitians. They thought of humans in general as less intelligent beings that they loved anyway, they could be a lot of fun to play with, but often did mean things, so they needed to be forgiven, because they didn't understand what they did. Parn’s thought of Casitians as not any more intelligent, really, but more compassionate. It had sobered Ur'lef. They didn't think of the Casitians as their saviors in any sense. They'd known that they would be saved by the Galactic Community all along. It had come as a surprise to them that the agents were humans. Ur'lef wasn't sure why or how they'd known that they would be taken care of and would join the Galactic Community. He suspected that there had been more contact with the parn's than some members of the Galactic community had admitted.

Ur'lef realized that the parn's would find deep friends in some of the other species of the galaxy, but would probably always regard humans paternalistically.

Ur'lef had tired of the play, and decided to call it a day. “Q'q'aalin, I need to get dry.”

“You go get warm and dry, and rest. You humans get so tired in the water. See you another day?”

“Yes, Q'q'aalin, I'll see you another day.” Ur'lef watched Q'q'aalin and the rest of the pod swim off, then dive deep. He signaled his flyer, which appeared above him in a few minutes. The ladder came down, and he climbed on it, and was taken up into his ship. After taking off all of his equipment and drying off, he flew back to the moon, pondering the day's events.

Waters Off of Baja California, Earth, 6 Paqn, 780

He dived, deeply, with the rest of his pod. They swam in their usual formation, with the younger ones inside the older ones for protection. As they got into the colder currents, they started to communicate. They communicated to each other in a combination of sounds, movements, and energetic patterns sent between them. The conversation would not have been intelligible to even the Casitians. The one the humans called Q'q'aalin wondered if they even understood how little of their language was communicated to the humans. He gathered the oldest in the pod around him, because it was time for them to decide who would go to the big station. He had described in detail what was needed. The most important thing was to make contact with the ancient ones, the species that the humans called Kwalloo. He felt that the Kwalloo would be in the best position to help them make their way in the Galactic Community. He appreciated the intent of the Casitians, but he realized they didn't have enough wisdom to really help them.

Moon Station, 26 Paqn, 780

Jur'tic was looking forward to the second visit by Henry, the Terran she'd been working with. She liked him, because he seemed very open and willing to look at himself somewhat critically. He took far too much personal responsibility for the things that Earth humans did, like the ways in which people in his country were acting. Jur'tic didn't hold any of that against him—she appreciated him for who he was. She also learned, at one point in a very brief moment when they touched accidentally, that he had a compelling energy about him. She was drawn to him. She thought it might be interesting to see what it was like to have an Terran companion. Ja'el seemed to like it.

She felt she should be careful, though. According to him, he still had one of those lifelong companions that Terrans seemed to prefer, although he said he was in the process of separating from her. But she didn't know what stage that was, or how serious he was about it. She didn't want to step on any boundaries of his. So she would just take it slowly.

She walked into the joining room they had been using for the work. It had been especially set up for multiple screens, and had a special AI who was designed for video editing. Casitians hadn't developed this particular art form. They did send video messages—either simple video recordings of someone speaking or a joining. Some people send video messages that were a mix of a video recording and animation: an artistic rendering of a person or a situation. But Casitians hadn't developed an art of creating stories like this on video. It was a very interesting art form to Jur'tic.

Henry had already arrived, and was speaking to the AI about putting together specific small pieces of video. He looked up as Jur'tic walked in. He smiled broadly. “Hi Jur'tic. I think I've got this part down, where we include the companions. Have a look and tell me what you think.”

They had gotten a number of Casitians to “act” as they called it, in certain ways. It was a bit of a challenge for some of them, but others learned quickly. Jur'tic sat down in front of the display, and watched the video from the beginning. She liked what she saw. It seemed realistic.

“Yes, Henry, that's exactly right.” She pointed to the screen with characters talking. “I like the way that you put them in the right place. You seem to have a feeling for how the companion custom works.”

Henry looked at Jur'tic and smiled, “Yes, I think I'm learning a lot about that custom. I had a long talk with Marianne about it, when I saw her in San Francisco a few days ago.”

Jur'tic inclined her head. “You did? What did you learn?”

Henry blushed. “Well, I was just, well, curious, about what it was like for a Terran to have a Casitian as a companion. Marianne told me quite a lot. She told me about something you call lyre'es'gkin. It seemed like it made things, well, a lot more interesting.” He blushed again.

Jur'tic leaned forward, and put her hand on his arm, sending him curiosity. He raised his eyebrows.

“Wow.” She then sent him calm. “Wow again. How did you do that?”

“We learn when we are children. It is a human trait—it is not just confined to Casitians, although some are better at it than others. Some are better senders than they are receivers. Some are better receivers than they are senders. Some are balanced. I think that you are a very good receiver, because I'm not such a good sender, but you sensed what I sent. For some reason, on Earth it is not a talent that is acknowledged or cultivated.”

She still had her hand on his arm, and she considered what to do for a moment. Then she sent him affection. It wasn't what she really wanted to send. She'd wanted to send what she felt: arousal and interest. But she thought he might get scared at that. He looked up at her, and had this odd expression on his face, a mix of surprise and incredulity. Then he began to smile again. It was a smile that made it obvious how he felt about what she sent, about her. And then she picked up his arousal, his lust. She realized then that he was also a very good sender. She thought that this was going to be an interesting day.

Moon Station, 28 Paqn, 780/January 1, 2011

Marianne and Ja'el were sitting in their quarters, watching a display that had multiple video streams and news channels. About one hundred companies, primarily in the United States, had just been shut down, because they that had refused to change some aspects of their operations. It happened at the stroke of midnight on December 31st. All of the companies had been given multiple warnings, and had visits by David and Sunam, some multiple times. Some had even had visits by Marianne. They had all flatly refused to change.

Knowing that economic disruption would result, the Casitians had partnered with many nongovernmental agencies in the US to provide food, medical care, and housing vouchers that could be used to pay rent and mortgages.

Some of the news channels from the US had debates between this pundit and that, talking about the relative merit of the shutdowns. Others, however, were only covering one side, the side of outrage. There were speeches by the presidential candidates, many of whom suggested caution before jumping to any conclusions. A couple in the Democratic race were fully behind the Galactic actions, and explained in detail why they thought it was reasonable, and what they would do as president to rebuild the economy. One candidate in particular, Gerard Hopkinson, was virulently, adamantly against the Casitians, and used this shut down to further his point of view. It was gaining in popularity. Some polls put him in front of the rest of the Republican field. And many polls suggested that a match between him and most of the Democrats would slightly favor him.

Marianne was not happy about this scenario. It had been bad enough to have a government that was moderately against the Casitians. But a Hopkinson presidency would mean all out conflict with the Casitians. That was not something that Marianne thought would be tenable.

“Ja'el, I hope that Gerard doesn't win. I know we have a while before that might happen, but it doesn't look good now. And with people feeling displaced because their jobs have disappeared...”

Ja'el reached over, and held Marianne's hand, sending calm. “Sul, I have confidence things will get better.”

Marianne remembered when she learned the word 'sul.’ It was an endearment used often on Casiti by companions. It was a mix of 'love,’ 'friend' and something akin to 'darling.’ She liked when Ja'el used it. She felt Ja'el's calm, but also still felt her own deep unease, which she sent back to Ja'el, to show her how she felt. Ja'el responded by taking her in her arms, and holding her for a while. “I know that this is hard for you. But I think it will work out. In any case, you will be fine, here, or on Casiti.”

“I know, but it's hard to watch this, even though I know it won't really affect me. I worry about my family and friends.” They had taken to speaking Casitian to each other, as much as Marianne could handle, and understand. Casitian didn't really have a word that was the same as 'family.' But Marianne had adopted the Casitian word that signified the group one grew up in. In English, it had been translated as 'family group,' which wasn't quite accurate.

They held each other for a while, as Marianne let the scenarios play out in her head.

Moon Station, 28 Paqn, 780/January 1, 2011

Silandra had just disconnected with her contact at the World Bank. The process of translating Galactic technology and resources to actual money that they could use had been complicated. But the UN, the World Bank, and other banking institutions had been surprisingly cooperative. They now had all of the economic resources they needed to support what they were doing in terms of humanitarian aid all over the world. Some of it was raw materials from the moon. It also helped that Galactic technology made some things, like growing food, cleaning up the environment, and providing water and health care, so much easier and more efficient. Earth companies were beginning to buy those technologies.

Silandra did a crash course in Earth economics. Things worked so differently on Casiti, and in the Galactic community in general. There was no such thing as money, per se, which the people at the varied financial institutions had found very hard to believe. The closest thing that the Casitians had to money was their access to wormholes. Some individual species did have their own monetary system, but Silandra had never worked with one of those. Casitians shared everything. They collectively contributed to Galactic exports so that collectively, they provided Casitians as a whole with access to the wormhole. Individual Casitians traveled through the wormholes on assignments from teachers, or they might get on waiting lists for pleasure trips to one system or another. The average Casitian could expect to take four or five interstellar trips in their lifetime, unless their work was such that they were often needed elsewhere. But many Casitians chose never to travel from Casiti.

One of the bankers at a large American bank that was working with the Casitians had asked her once about private property and ownership of land. It was a baffling discussion. Silandra had replied that everyone had access to enough land to grow food for themselves and others they would gift food to. The banker then asked if someone wanted to have another person grow food for many people. Couldn’t that lead to the owner of the land making more money? Silandra explained that they didn't have money, and asked, “Why would anyone want to grow more food than was needed?” It went back and forth like that, the banker not understanding why no one wanted to accumulate “things,” and Silandra mystified as to why people would want to accumulate “things.” They both agreed that they each needed to actually physically visit the other, and talk more. But that would have to wait until things calmed down.

She was still not so worried about the responses of the Casitians to Terrans, but she did know, even after all of this calmed down, that it would be difficult for the two sides to really understand each other.

Chapter 12: Shutdown

Jefferson City, Missouri, Earth, December 31, 2012

Stan had been asked to do the third shift this evening. He was respected as one of the best managers, and the higher-ups thought that there might be some trouble overnight, since the Galactics had threatened to close the plant down. It was 11:00, and everything was going perfectly smoothly.

Stan was glad that they had installed the new monitoring system—he could see all of the conditions of the varied processes right on his laptop. Before they'd installed the system last year, he had to physically go to each of the different parts of the plant, and manually check all of the varied heat exchangers and flow meters. He did miss roaming the plant, saying hello to the workers, and “feeling” the place. Sometimes he could tell something was going to go wrong before anything registered on the instruments. He decided maybe it was a good idea to go roaming, in spite of the monitoring system. But he could take his laptop with him.

He left his office, and went down the metal stairs to the main plant floor, and started his tour of the plant. He ran into a few people along the way, who smiled and waved. He liked working here—it gave him a sense of importance. He'd started out at the plant right after high school, and he felt that he knew it better, perhaps, than he knew himself.

He looked at his watch. 11:50, and all was well. He figured he'd go back upstairs to his office and watch one New Year's webcast, or another. He sat on his desk started to check his email, when some of the readings on his monitor started to change, radically. The power going to just the production processes was slowing down, although the power to the exhaust systems were intact. The phone rang. It was one of the line workers.

“Stan, we have a big problem. The power supplies to all of the production processes are, well, not working right. They aren't failing—they are just dropping in amperage gradually. They'll be out of power in about five minutes.”

Stan figured he should go down and see if he could re-start those power supplies. If that failed, he'd have to call the engineers in—that would be lots of fun. He ran downstairs, and into the room with the power supplies. By the time he'd gotten there, they were completely shut down. Then, an alarm rang, loudly. He recognized that one: the exhaust power had failed, which could lead to a deadly buildup of gases. Except—there hadn't been any production in several minutes because of the power failure of these units—so nothing bad would happen. Stan was puzzled. He then realized that what had just happened was the standard procedure for bringing plant production to a halt—except that they hadn't done it. He called the exhaust section, and told them to turn off the alarm.

He went upstairs, and then called his boss. It seemed the Galactics had made good on their threat.

Jefferson City, Missouri, Earth, January 6, 2012

Yolanda hung up the phone. Her attempts to reach Marianne had not been successful. She'd left several messages over the past few hours, to no avail. Marianne's strange voicemail system sometimes baffled Yolanda. She decided to try sending an email. As she walked over to the desk that had the computer, Stanley walked into the living room. “Have you gotten hold of Marianne yet? We really need to speak to her. She's got to change the Galactics’ minds about the plant.”

“No, Stan, I haven't yet. I'm still trying. I'm about to send her an email.”

Stanley shuffled back into the room with the TV, to continue to watch the news, nonstop. Yolanda sighed. She hated to see him this way. He was always so anchored to work, and without it he didn't know what to do. He had worked at the chemical plant since he graduated from high school fifteen years ago. He had progressed from an entry level job to managing a whole department. It had been devastating to him when the plant was shut down five days ago, on midnight of New Year's Day. She sat down at the computer, and logged in. Leticia bounded into the room.

“Mom, dad won't let me watch my show. He only wants to watch the news.”

“Leticia, your father has had a horrible thing happen to him. You have to be patient.”

“Well, then can I get my own TV?”

“Leticia, we don't have any money right now, your father got laid off. I'm sorry. Can you see the show at a friend’s house?” She hoped this would help get Leticia out of the house. Both Leticia and Beatrice were at their wits’ end, with their father being at home. It would help when they went back to school in a week.

“I'll call Felice. She might want to watch it.”

“Thank you, honey. You can go over to Felice's house to watch.”

Yolanda went back to the computer, and typed an email to Marianne. She had been answering her email lately. She couldn't understand why she hadn't called her back.

Moon Station, 30 Paqn 780/January 6, 2012

Marianne woke up, and Ja'el wasn't next to her. Ja'el liked to eat the first meal of the day much sooner than Marianne—Marianne could usually skip it, because she got up later, and she was never hungry in the morning.

Marianne heard the insistent chime, and the soft voice of the AI. “Bright morning, Marianne. You have one hundred and twenty-five messages on Earth internet email, forty-three Earth voicemail messages, and seven Galactic messages.”

Marianne groaned. She said, “Can you prioritize them for me?”

“You do have three voicemail messages and one email from your sister, Yolanda.”

Marianne sighed. She knew exactly what that was about. Chap, Cue and Dot Limited, a very big chemical company, had been shut down due to their lack of interest in making any changes in their procedures or processes. Stanley, Yolanda's husband, had worked all of his adult life at one of the CC&D plants, the one in the town that Marianne had lived in once.

She asked the AI, “Please try and connect a call to Yolanda.”

There was a bit of silence, then she heard ringing.

“Hello?”

Marianne spoke, “Hi Yolanda, how are you? I'm sorry that I didn't get back to you sooner, it was sleep time up here.”

“I figured it was something like that—you always were prompt before. I don't know how the time is different up there.”

“Well, there is no exact correspondence, since we are on Casitian time, which is totally different. I just woke up. Anyway, I know this is about the CC&D plant.”

“Marianne, I know you are in charge up there...”

“No, Yolanda, I am not 'in charge.' What I do is a lot like being an ambassador. I have no control over the decisions made by the Galactics. There is nothing I can do to help Stanley, except to tell him that he should get together with the other managers and workers, and pressure CC&D to do the changes necessary for them to be restarted. There wasn't much, really. They had to install some new equipment from the Galactics that would convert their waste into inert compounds, and change a few procedures so that they didn't risk spills. That's all. It's not such a big deal, and would not have cost CC&D a cent, except for some staff time to help with the process of conversion. If they would rather be shut down than change, then that's their choice.”

“But Marianne, hundreds of people here have lost their jobs and livelihoods. Stanley is going around the house like a zombie. He has no idea what he will do.”

“Have you been down to the local aid center?”

“I won't go there! I refuse. We can manage.”

“Yolanda, they are providing replacement money, food, full health services, and counseling for people who were laid off, helping them plan next steps in their lives. This could be a great thing for Stanley. He's talked about wanting to go to college—he could now.”

“We always took care of ourselves. I won't get in line for any government, or Galactic, handouts.”

“But isn't that what you just asked me for?”

Yolanda sputtered. “I knew I wouldn't get any help from you. I hope you are happy with all of the chaos you have caused!”

“Yolanda...” but there was nothing but dead air.

“The other side terminated the connection,” the soft voice of the AI said. Sometimes, Marianne thought her AI had a very strange sense of humor. Marianne decided she needed first meal before she could deal with any more calls this morning. She got up, got dressed, and walked to the common dining space.

Washington, DC, Earth, January 6, 2012

“The Iowa Caucus is three weeks away, and the New Hampshire primary is nearly four weeks away. How do you see the shutdown of hundreds of US companies affecting your chances?” The blogger asking the question seemed young and earnest. Perhaps a bit too earnest, Gerard thought.

“Well, since I've been the candidate with the most consistent message against the Casitian alien threat, I think that people know exactly who to vote for. I'm the one who can start the process of getting those companies up and running again. I'm the one who will get the Casitians out of our country once and for all. Did you know that they have made partnerships with some non-profit organizations in the US, and that they have a presence here, even though we have rejected them? I will use force, if necessary, to get them out of this country.”

“That's strong language, Mr. Hopkinson.”

“This is a big problem that needs to be solved. And I know there are a lot of Americans who feel the same way. And they will vote for me.” Gerard looked at his watch.

“I need to end this interview—I have a plane to catch to Iowa this afternoon—and then it's off to Michigan and Georgia. I have a lot of ground to cover.”

Gerard got up, and waited for the blogger to rise. He grabbed Gerard's hand, a little too enthusiastically.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Hopkinson, for the interview. I know my readers will be interested in what happens here.”

“You are welcome.”

The blogger turned and walked out of the room. Gerard went to his phone, and called in Joel. In a minute or two, Joel walked in. “Hi Gerard. How can I help you?”

“I need you to go to Arizona, and then California, and give some speeches on my behalf. Talk with Angela. She's made the arrangements. It's with some scientist crowds. She knows the details.”

“OK, Gerard, I'm on it.”

As Joel walked out of Gerard's office, he was annoyed. Angela was one of Joel's least favorite people. She used to work for a Christian right presidential candidate whose name Joel had forgotten, when he ran some years ago. She still believed he should have been president. She was very pious, and very conservative, herself. She and Joel had almost come to blows about Gerard's position paper on teaching evolution in schools. They had managed to be able to work together, but it was a challenge sometimes. Gerard was attracting particular kinds of people—the Christian right, the NRA, people Joel never would normally associate with. He sighed. It had been increasingly bothering him. Something was wrong if these people made up the majority of those opposing the Casitians.

Joel had had some conversations with other groups opposing the Galactics—some scientists who thought that the Casitian science was too spiritually-based. There were others, like the libertarians, who didn't like the idea of the UN running things. But these folks would not join Gerard's campaign because of the radical right wing support he had. He'd tried to explain to Gerard that moderating his tone on moral issues would broaden his base, but Angela refused to agree, and Gerard sided with Angela.

He left Gerard's office and walked down the hall to speak to Angela. As he walked into her office, she was on the phone. She waved his hand to come in, so he did, and sat down.

“Yes, Senator, I know that you have been opposing the Galactic threat as adamantly as the candidate. He's interested in your support. Yes, Senator, he is a little bit less conservative than your positions, but he really wants to protect American freedom, and I am sure that you can support him in that. Yes, Senator. He would be happy to. Indeed. That's wonderful. I look forward to our meeting in a few weeks. I'll talk with your people about scheduling. Thank you very much, Senator Grimsford.” She hung up the phone smiling.

Joel cringed. Senator Grimsford was the most conservative Senator by far. Draconian in terms of law enforcement, he supported the death penalty for offenses short of murder. He was against abortion under any circumstances, even if the mother's life was at risk. Joel never liked him much, and although he came from his old home state of Texas, Joel never voted for him. That Gerard would be aligning himself with people like that deeply disturbed Joel. As Joel looked at Angela, he was sure his face showed how he felt.

“What's wrong, Joel? Senator a little bit too conservative for your taste?” It was a mocking tone.

“Well, honestly Angela—yes, he is. But I know he's right up your alley, so to speak.”

Angela smiled. “Yes, in fact, he is, and I am thrilled that our candidate is getting his endorsement. It will make a big difference in the primaries.”

“And sink us in November.”

Angela shook her head. “Joel, November is eons away from now in the public's mind. And who knows what the Casitians will pull next. I don't think it is a danger.”

“Well, the press has a short memory, but bloggers don't. Believe me, there will be blogger after blogger who will drag this out in November.”

Angela started to look angry. “Joel, I am the campaign director, not you.” She shuffled some papers. “The candidate wants you to speak to the Union of Nuclear Scientists in Palo Alto, California, and then there is a conference of some kind of scientists... oh, the Public Health Association, in Scottsdale Arizona. Here are the talking points.” She handed Joel a piece of paper.

Joel looked them over, dismayed at their tone. “Public Health Association? Are you sure? Those people are basically pro-Galactic, because they have managed to wipe out most infectious disease in the world already! I can't use these talking points there!”

“If you feel you can't speak for the candidate, then perhaps you should find a new line of work.”

He was furious. He couldn't possibly use these vitriolic talking points with a crowd of people who honestly thought that the Galactics were a positive thing. Over the past few weeks, as all of the good things that had happened in the world because of Galactic help and technology were becoming known, and started to sink in for Joel, and he had gotten less and less enamored with being in opposition. He still didn't much like Casitian culture, but it was hard for him to keep up the idea that they were a bad force. He realized that, when push came to shove, he couldn't hold the radical opposition corner. And he felt bad about the things he had done for Gerard's campaign. It was time to leave. It had been brewing for weeks, but here it was, out in the open.

“Well, I might indeed have to do just that. Goodbye Angela, I think it's time for me to quit. Give my regards to Gerard, will you?” He spun on his heel before Angela could speak, and walked out of her office, to his desk. He quickly gathered a very few personal items, feeling something vaguely familiar about all of this. He stuffed them in his backpack, and walked to the elevator, where Gerard was waiting.

“Angela tells me you are leaving us. Joel, I don't think that's a good idea.”

“Gerard, I'm sorry. I've been feeling uneasy about this for a while. I'm beginning to think that perhaps the Casitians aren't so bad after all. I can't go and speak to hostile audiences with your rigid stance toward them. Plus, I can't deal with the people you are gathering around you. This whole thing is not working for me, Gerard.”

“I understand what you are saying Joel, but I truly think that the Casitians are a threat to American freedom. They have a communist, morally decadent culture. I can't let our country succumb to that. And I know that there are people I would normally not agree with on my side, but we've got to find friends where we can. And I think I am the best person to lead this opposition.”

“Gerard, you know that even your 'friends' would hate you if they knew the real truth about you.”

Gerard's face went white. “You wouldn't...”

“No Gerard, your secret is safe with me. Just be careful about what you are doing.”

“I see. Well, I'm sorry that you are leaving. I wish you the best. I do appreciate all that you've done for me, really I do.”

Joel said, “Good luck, Gerard,” even though he didn't really feel it.

They shook hands. Joel punched the elevator button, and took the elevator down to the first floor. He went to the Metro station in order to find his way home. He'd rented a small apartment, and he had no idea what he was going to do with his life now. He couldn't go back to the Casitians, and he couldn't in good conscience belong to the opposition anymore. He needed to think.

Birmingham, Alabama, Earth, January 6, 2012

Patricia was at yet another town hall meeting of religious leaders and the public. She'd gone to more of these than she could count, all over the country. Today's meeting was in Birmingham, Alabama. This was the first one she'd been to in the South.

“I think that the Bible doesn't talk about a situation like this, and can't address it. We have to use our minds, and search our hearts to find the answers here.”

A tall, stocky man, with balding blond hair stood up. Patricia knew him to be Reverend Jackson, the senior pastor of one of the largest churches in the United States, here in Birmingham. She thought she'd heard they had 25,000 members. Churches of that size simply staggered her.

“The Bible does talk about the lengths Satan will go to deceive, and test, mankind. Take Job, for instance. Satan took everything away from Job, to test Job. This is our test.”

Patricia happened to know the book of Job well. She had taken a course on Job by a noted Job scholar in seminary, and had read the book in the original Hebrew. She thought a minute how to say this so that the audience could understand.

“Reverend Jackson, using Job as an example of how far Satan will go is not appropriate.” She turned to the audience. “As many of you might know, translations of the Bible from Hebrew to English are not always exactly accurate. Jews, who wrote the Old Testament, didn't have a being called Satan. The real translation for that would be “the adversary.” Jews thought of “the adversary” as one who was, in a sense, like a prosecutor. One who would challenge God. And it was not capitalized. It was a generic term, not meant to be a specific being.”

Reverend Jackson countered, “Well, here is these fancy-dancy people who went to fancy-dancy seminaries talking about things you can't really understand. You don't need to understand all that. The Bible says exactly what it means, and means exactly what it says. Satan is Satan. Satan will deceive, and will twist, and will test us. We must not give in to Satan's deceptions. And what better way for Satan deceive us, than to supply us with cures for diseases, and all sorts of food, and good things, and leisure. And what's bringing that? A host of communist homosexuals! That is Satan's work!”

The meeting went downhill from there. The other clergy, who included a Catholic priest and an African-American preacher, who tried to be a little more conciliatory than Reverend Jackson, but they basically had the same, or similar things to say. The morality of the Casitians was suspect, and we should not adopt their values, their perspectives on God, or, really, anything they could give us. It was the road to hell. Patricia could tell that her moderate tone, and her positive perspective on the Casitians, was lost on this audience.

She walked out of the building toward end of the parking lot, where a Galactic flyer was waiting for her. She heard footsteps behind her, and she turned to see a young man trying to catch up to her. “Reverend Warren!”

She stopped. “Yes, can I help you?”

“Hi Reverend Warren. I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate your being there. There are more people than you think that agree with you, but it's just hard for people to show their support.”

Patricia smiled at the young man. “Thank you, I do appreciate hearing that. It felt pretty hopeless in there.”

He smiled, “I understand. Some of those people are, well, a bit out on the edge. But so many others are simply scared, and they will believe their leaders.”

Patricia nodded. “I know. I hope that changes.”

“So do I. Anyway, thanks!” He turned around, and walked quickly back to the building. Patricia finished her walk to the flyer, and climbed in. Re'wl, her favorite pilot, was going to take her back home.

New York, New York, Earth, January 6, 2012

Rita entered the large corner office nervously. Here was the news director of Fox, and she had to make a good impression. She wanted this job so badly she could taste it.

“Hello, Ms. Reid, please have a seat.”

“Thank you Mr. Moore. How are you today?”

“I'm just fine, thank you. I see that you were let go from NPR a few months ago. Can you tell me about that?”

“Mr. Moore, NPR, as you know, is a news organization that has decided to not tell the public the truth, but has sided entirely with the Casitians. They felt my reporting was biased, so they fired me.”

“And why do you want to work here?”

“My husband always told me what a stellar news organization this is, sir, and also, I think that your reporting and opinions on the Galactic threat are really right on the money. I'm a good investigative reporter—it was me who first alerted NPR to the Galactic threat.”

“Yes, Ms. Reid, I know that story, thank you. I have to tell you that there is some concern about hiring you, because of what happened with your ex-husband. I understand that he now is working with the Casitians?”

“Yes, he is. He joined the PR firm of an old friend of his, one that has been hired by the Casitians to produce public interest video spots.”

“Have you spoken with him recently?”

“We talked last week. He asked to start the process of finalizing a divorce.” Rita had been surprised. She had thought that perhaps it would have been possible for them to have gotten back together, even given his change in views about the Casitians. But he was not at all interested in that. He wanted a clean break. He had even mentioned something silly about visiting that Casitian home planet. Rita had been angry at him.

It seemed that Mr. Moore had possibly picked up on Rita's anger. “Ms. Reid, are you sure you are in a position at this time to report on this issue?”

She nodded. “Yes, yes, Mr. Moore, I am completely ready.”

He nodded, and said, “OK, Ms. Reid, we'll give you the position. You will be on a 30 day probationary period before we will sign a contract. Is that agreeable to you?”

“Yes, yes, that's fine. I completely understand.”

He got up and extended his hand. She hastily rose and extended her hand out, and they shook.

“Please go to the Human Resources department, and go through all the paperwork, when you are done with that, please show up at the Galactic news desk, on the 4th floor, to find your desk and your assignments.”

Rita smiled, possibly too broadly. “Thank you so much, Mr. Moore. You won't be disappointed.” She turned, and walked out of his office, and could almost whistle. A job reporting the Casitians! She could really uncover the truth. It was her wish come true.

She walked down the hall and found the Human Resources office, and spent an hour or so there filling out and signing various papers, showing identification, and giving a retina scan and a fingerprint. She then went down to the fourth floor and found the head of the Galactic newsdesk, who was a very young looking man, named Peter Tinch.

“Hello, Rita, welcome to Fox News!” He was very enthusiastic.

“Hi Peter. I'm looking forward to working here.”

“Follow me, I'll show you your desk.” Peter turned and started to walk back into the newsroom. Finally, they arrived in front of an empty cubicle.

“Phone, computer, etc. Probably everything you need. Your first assignment will be to research Marianne Michaelson. I understand you have a personal connection to her. We want to know everything about her. Basically, we want to do an exposé on her—how she couldn't possibly be the right kind of person to be doing what she's doing. How's that?”

Rita thought that was a project she could really do well. “Thanks, Peter, that's fine. What's the deadline?”

“Next week, on Thursday. We'd like to run it during our Friday afternoon Galactic roundup. Sound OK?”

“Yes, sounds good.”

Peter smiled and walked away, leaving her to her desk and to her assignment, which she relished.

Los Angeles, California, Earth, January 6, 2012

Kyla realized that she was enjoying herself. She had the rather enviable job of contacting the scientific community, and of sharing with them the science and technology of the Galactics. This was going to allow them to catapult themselves several millennia forward in science and technology. Her team was also tasked with the process of introducing the concepts of individual and small-group farming, which was the basic way that Casitians grew their food. She was working with Gretchen Polhey, who was connected with the Food and Agriculture organization of the United Nations. It wasn't nearly as complex a problem as Kyla had originally thought. A large percentage of people in the third world already were doing it that way, and they were so happy to get new tools and technologies that made their work easier. They were able to grow enough food for their extended families with about 20% of the effort.

The first world, however, was a little harder. The increased popularity of farmer's markets, community supported agriculture, and organic produce, as well as the already popular hobby of gardening, made it easier than she had expected, especially in rural areas. And it would be many years, if ever, before most people in urban areas grew much of their own food. A small migration outward to more rural areas was needed, but not enough of a migration to strain the sustainability of those areas. Increasing the efficiency of those who provided food to urban markets, plus the introduction of rooftop gardens, and small garden plots within cities, would provide the gradual steps.

Kyla thought that it would take decades for the kinds of values that caused the Casitians to do their own farming to make their way into the minds of many people, particularly those in developed countries. She was trying, with efforts such as the video she and Gretchen were working on today. They were sitting in Kyla's office at USC.

“I don't want to be too, well, pedantic.” Gretchen looked up from the video editing screen. “I think we need to cut out that short lecture on the planetary spirituality of Casiti. I think we should highlight the stuff that's Earth-based.”

“Yes, I guess I see the point. Perhaps we'll also move that short piece by Patricia, the Episcopal priest, up closer to the beginning, then add that small piece on the pagan group.”

Kyla liked working with Gretchen. She seemed very straightforward, and they had a lot in common. Kyla thought that this video would work well as one of the many public interest commercials that were being produced by the Casitians.

Moon Station, 30 Paqn, 780/January 6, 2012

Marianne started to wade through the large number of voicemail and email messages. They were mostly from harried UN officials, who had been harassed by varied levels of US bureaucrats, who had, in turn, been harassed by CEOs and board members of corporations that had been shut down. She kept repeating the same information, over and over again. For a few companies, shutdown was permanent and irreversible. Something that they did was completely incompatible with the environmental cleanup, and the health of the dolphins. Whalers, large fishing operations, coal and oil-based power plants, and some others were included in that list. Some companies on that list were shut down because they refused to change their operations. Motors Universal had refused to change and build cars that met the UN CAFE standards (although all of the other US car manufacturers had complied). CC&D, the chemical company that Yolanda's husband Stanley worked for, had also refused to comply to changes mandated by the Galactics.

Then, of course, there were all sorts of downstream problems. Some of the oil refiners that refused to use Galactic anti-pollution and anti-spill technologies were shut down, creating shortages of gasoline for cars and trucks.

Basically, the United States was slowly grinding to a halt. It was all preventable. Government officials, company executives, workers, and the general public were all notified, and the companies had been given almost five months in which to make these changes. There really was no excuse, except that they didn't want to change, and didn't see that the requirements that the Galactics imposed upon them as important enough. They somehow thought that there was no way that the Galactics would be able to do anything. They had vastly underestimated them.

Marianne remembered meeting after meeting where she had explained all of this. She was honestly frustrated and out of patience. Some of the voicemails were from company officials who had changed their mind, and were going to implement the changes that were required. This felt good to Marianne. Perhaps, she thought, it will all work out in the end. She did wonder how long it would take, though.

One of the last voicemail messages was from the President's office, asking for a meeting. She sighed. That was one of the parts of her role she had liked the least. The current president clearly hadn't felt like Marianne was someone who should be in her role (he had, on more than one occasion, suggested alternatives). And it always felt like he thought he was talking to an inferior. But she had no choice but to answer the call, and schedule a meeting with him.

“Please put a call into the President's office, and set up a meeting with them according to what makes sense for my schedule,” she asked the AI.

“You have several meetings in Northeastern North America scheduled three Earth days from now. Would that be a good time?”

“Yes, thank you, that's perfect.” Her first work with this AI (that was, officially Ja'el's AI) had been rough, because its English hadn't developed too far. Over time, though, this AI had come to speak virtually perfect English. She didn't think that the President's office had any idea that they were not even speaking to a human being.

She liked the Galactic AI’s. They seemed to be amazingly intelligent and resourceful, but at the same time there was strong consensus about their lack of consciousness. She remembered reading all of those science fiction novels about Artificial Intelligences, and emerging consciousness. What she hadn’t known was that many species had tried many, many times to create intelligences with consciousness, but had uniformly failed. The current theory among the Galactics was that consciousness required biological life to emerge, and was not something that could be created by any species, no matter how intelligent. This was presently a very active area of Galactic research.

“The President's office has confirmed a meeting with the President and some of his staff on the day that is Earth Monday, at 9:00 am. That will be your first meeting on that trip. For your information, that is the 32nd day of Paqn, at 3rd hour.”

“Thank you. Can you set an alarm for one hour before that meeting, and set up a transport for one quarter hour before?”

“Certainly, Marianne.”

She thought that the hour (which was three Earth hours) would help her get prepared. She had quite a number of meetings, mostly with varied officials at the United Nations. There was a lot to talk about these days.

Chapter 13: Chaos

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, January 8, 2012

Laura Hernandez sat in the too-cold office of the Columbia, South Carolina aid office. She was there as a part of her team's work monitoring the use of the aid offices, and making sure that people who needed to get help were getting it. Her team's work, which theoretically encompassed the nongovernmental sector of all countries of the world, had, of late, shrunk down to working specifically in the US. Things in other countries had been handed off, and were working smoothly. A few countries had inexplicably chosen to oppose UN and Galactic authority, and had excluded any UN, Galactic-related, or international aid organizations from helping people in those countries. It was frustrating to Laura, because there was no reason that the people of those countries needed to suffer. But they would.

Conversations regarding those situations were ongoing on the moon, but no decisions were being made yet. The Casitians were, it seemed, very much in favor of giving countries the right to self-determination when it did not interfere with the environment or the well-being of the dolphins. The Terrans on the team were trying to convince the Casitians that it wasn't fair for the people of those countries to suffer for the decisions of their leaders, and that the Casitians needed to step in, which they were capable of doing.

There was going to be another joining about this issue in a few days, which Laura looked forward to. She was going to try and really push the Casitians on this issue. In the meantime, she was in South Carolina, freezing to death. It was January, and because the local electric plant had just begun to make the changes necessary to keep from being shut down, it wasn't able to put out very much electricity, and there were rolling brownouts and blackouts. She was glad that all of the electric companies in the northern part of the US had agreed months ago to comply with the necessary changes. Otherwise, there would have been a very hard winter for many.

“So, we've had a steady stream of families here, and most have been eligible for replacement income and health care.” The small, African-American woman, whose name was Wanita, was running this center, and had been a pleasant change from some of the other people she'd been dealing with lately. She seemed keenly interested in making sure that people in her district got the aid they needed.

“How have they seemed, coming in here? Disgruntled? Upset?”

“Most of them, yes. But many, once our caseworkers talk about the educational programs, and the fact that the replacement income is for as long as they want, until they find another job, or move onto a different career, they soften up. They are realizing that their lives actually might be better now than they were before.”

Laura smiled. There was so much bad propaganda floating around, that people were taking in, hook, line and sinker. That the Casitians were lying, and would never help them, or worse things. So, it seemed, finally, that perhaps the beneficence of the Casitians was sinking in.

“Is there anything that you need, besides heat?”

“No, we are all set. We have finally gotten our quota of doctors and nurses for the health center, and we have been able to hire enough case workers, and train them. I want to thank you for this visit. It's nice to know that people are paying attention.”

Laura smiled. “We are trying. We've greatly increased the size of our team, so that we have enough people to travel around and see how things are going. So far, we have seen very little government interference, which we've been very happy with.”

“Yes, I had been prepared for that, especially given the President's stance. But I'm getting the impression that his position is softening somewhat.”

Laura nodded, and rose. “Yes, we hope so. Thank you so much for taking time out of your busy schedule here. We will be in touch. And please don't hesitate to ask for anything.” She put out her hand to shake, and surprisingly, the woman grasped her forearm, and embraced her in the Galactic clasped-hand embrace. Laura had known that this was a spreading custom, but was surprised to find it here.

She smiled, and said, “Farewell blessings.”

“Farewell blessings to you too.”

Laura walked out of the office and into her car, which she quickly started to blast the heat in. She was cold! Her next stop was Charleston. It would take her a couple of hours to get there, and she could check her email and get a bunch of work done in the process. She loved the new AI that had been installed in her car. She didn't have to drive anymore. Just tell the AI where she's going, and watch the landscape roll by. She was looking forward to getting one of those new vehicles that had seats that moved and rotated, so she didn't have to feel like she was stuck behind the driver’s seat. She told the AI her next destination, and started on her backlog of email.

Washington, DC, Earth, January 8, 2012

“Thank you for taking the time out of what I know is an incredibly busy schedule, given all that is happening right now.” The President seemed different today. Almost, well, respectful.

“I am happy to be here, Mr. President, if it will help us figure out how to get the US out of its current predicament.”

“Yes, well, this is why I've asked you to be here. I have decided that it is time for the US to work with the UN and the Galactics. For one, I've been impressed by the aid that has been given to all of those that have been displaced by the shutdowns, as well as the changes in living standards for those in the third world. And, quite honestly, the fact that the Galactics were able to selectively, and completely, shut down certain companies exactly on schedule was, well, impressive.”

“Mr. President, I'm glad that you have begun to change your thinking—we tried to explain all of this in detail over the past five months. But I know that sometimes it takes actual experience to change people's minds.” Before this meeting, Marianne had done a perusal of the varied polls that had come out in the wake of the shutdowns. She was surprised that on the whole, especially in the most recent polls, the majority of Americans were pro-Galactic. She imagined that this was a big part of what had changed the President's mind.

“So, I've been calling quite a number of executives of the companies that were shut down, and have been urging them to contact you and set up plans for accomplishing the changes required. I've also talked with some of those that were permanently shut down, to discuss plans and help on how they can find new areas of revenue generation.”

“Thank you Mr. President. Many of those companies have had departments, or units that were not affected by the shutdowns. We would be happy also to work with those companies to help them rework what they are doing. The Galactics have been very willing to lend any technologies that they have to help the Earth economy be sustainable.”

“I will be giving a press conference this evening, where I will make it clear that the US government is now fully cooperating with the United Nations and the Galactics, in terms of the requirements published a few months ago.”

Marianne was relieved. She had been afraid that would be another meeting full of bluster and arrogance. It was so nice that this was different. And she was gratified that basically, the last big hurdle had been jumped. Perhaps, maybe, the worst was over.

“Thank you Mr. President. Is there anything more that I can help with?”

“No, Marianne. Please send my regards to...” he paused, thinking. “Silandra and Erit'ala.”

Marianne nodded, and rose. They shook hands, and she was ushered out of the oval office. The chief of staff, John Worden, whom she'd met with several times, sidled up to her in the hall as she was making her way toward the main exit.

“Marianne, the Vice President is visiting the UN next week. Would it be possible to get a joint meeting with Silandra or Erit'ala and the Secretary General at that time?”

Marianne remembered that the VP was one of the Republican candidates challenging Gerard in the primaries. Any help she could give to him would help. It was essential that a pro-Galactic candidate won the presidential election, and the VP defeating Gerard in the primaries would basically seal the deal.

“Yes, certainly, I think we can arrange that. You know the number to call my staff, right?”

“Yes, yes, I do. I'll call. By the way, about your 'staff’..”

“Yes?”

“Well, I always seem to talk to the same person, who seems quite pleasant, and always knows who I am, but...”

“But what?”

“There is something, well, kind of funny about him.”

“'Him' would actually not be accurate, although he has a male voice. 'It' would be. It is an Artificial Intelligence.”

John's eyebrows raised. “Ah, I see. A computer.”

“An extremely advanced computer. Yes. But it takes care of everything quite efficiently, doesn't it?” Marianne smiled.

“Yes, indeed it does. Thank you for that information and clarification.”

“Certainly. I look forward to working with you, and with the rest of the White House staff.”

John smiled. “As long as we're here.”

Marianne walked out to the lawn, where her flyer, and K'flef, waited to take her to New York, to meet with UN officials. She could give them reassuring news about the US, finally.

Washington, DC, Earth, January 8, 2012

Gerard watched the news conference, and worried. He had been meeting with his pollster earlier today, and they had made it clear that he was likely to be able to win the Republican nomination on his anti-Galactic platform, since a majority of active, voting republicans agreed with him. But the general election would be difficult. The majority of Americans were pro-Galactic or neutral. The shutdowns had had the reverse effect than he expected, because of the availability of aid. People were taking vacations, deciding to go to college, changing their careers, and starting new businesses. In general, the shutdowns were mostly good for people. In addition, most of the companies would be up and running again quite soon, now that the president had come out pro-Galactic.

He was frustrated, and he worried about his campaign. Maybe he shouldn't be so strongly anti-Casitian. Maybe he should change his tactics. But he realized that he couldn't do that. There was no way he could win anything if he became less strident in his approach. So many of the other candidates had more governmental experience than he did, like the Vice President, who was the current favorite to win the presidency. And most of his supporters would abandon him, and perhaps even pick another, if he changed his position. He had no choice. He had to stay on his present course or drop out. He'd come so far. Dropping out just didn't seem like a reasonable option.

He called in Angela, who appeared almost instantly. Clearly, she had been waiting for him to call her in.

“Angela, I need you to contact our supporters. I need you first to assure them that I maintain my stance of being anti-Casitian. And also let them know that I will need more support—we have to begin to mount an enormous ad campaign. We need to activate Plan B.”

Angela nodded. “I'm sure we'll have no problem getting them on board. Also, I am having our pollster do an independent poll, asking deeper questions, like how people feel about Casitian lifestyles, or possible hidden agendas of the Casitians.”

Gerard smiled. Angela was always so on the ball. “Thank you, Angela. That will be wonderful. And contact our PR firm, and our ad agency, and have them start on the Plan B publicity. We want this to coincide with the early primaries.”

“Certainly, Gerard. I think that will be in place in time for Iowa, certainly.”

The Vice President was from New Hampshire, so Gerard had basically written that primary off, and hadn't even campaigned in that state, like most of the other Republican candidates. His focus was on the following week, on the Iowa caucus. If he could come in second there, he had a good chance of continuing on to win the nomination.

He remembered he had to prepare for the Republican candidates’ debate, which was happening next week. “Angela, how is the debate team going? I think we set aside this weekend for preparation?”

Angela said, “Yes, and we've got everyone and everything in place so that we can be sequestered in preparation for two solid days.”

“Thank you Angela. I think that's it for now. It's late, I'm going to head home.”

Angela left his office. He was tired and needed to sleep. But he also realized that he would be going home to an empty house. Juliana, his wife, was on vacation in the Caribbean with her lover, and was away for the next week and a half. And it didn't matter anyway, since he and Juliana were in a marriage of convenience. He sometimes missed David, and part of him felt terrible for what he'd done. But he couldn't let go of his ambition. He got momentarily angry. He would show everyone that he could go as far as he wanted to.

Gerard realized there was no profit in going down that road. He thought perhaps he could go down to that park he used to go to, before he met David—but it was too risky. He couldn't take any risk at all. He sighed. He was tired of satisfying himself with videos, but he felt that was the only thing he could do until he finally got into the White House. Then, he could do anything he wanted. He grabbed his briefcase, in which his assistant had put things to read for debate preparation, walked to the elevator, and out of the building to his car.

Moon Station, 32 Paqn, 780/January 8, 2012

Marianne was lying down on the pillows, her head in Ja'el's lap. A recording of one of her favorite Casitian composers was playing. She loved Casitian music. It was unique, and yet familiar. It used some of the same rhythmic structures and tones as Earth music, but in different kinds of combinations. This particular composer was one that liked to use rhythms and scales that were found in very early Casitian music, which, Marianne supposed, would be most like Earth music. This composer, H'jrefli z Wold'rene made music that was melodious and calming for Marianne. It was just what she needed.

It had been a long couple of days. She had started out her visit to Earth with a meeting with the President of the US, which had gone very well. She'd watched the news conference that evening at her mother's house, with the entire family there: Yolanda and Stanley, Leticia and Beatrice, and her mother and father. They were all glad to see her, and she was happy to hear that Stanley had decided to go to college, instead of going back to the CC&D plant, which was scheduled to re-open in a few weeks. She had always thought that Stanley had a lot more in him than being a simple manager. He had been excited to think about studying architecture, which had always interested him.

Yolanda, though, seemed unhappy. She kept talking about her pastor, and what her pastor said about the Casitians. She frowned when their mother asked Marianne about Ja'el, and Leticia then asked Marianne the innocent question of what it was like to live with Ja'el on the moon. Yolanda chose that exact time to hurry their whole family out the door. Yolanda clearly didn't want Leticia to talk much with Marianne about the moon, or about Ja'el. Marianne saw a budding tomboy in Leticia, and was reminded of herself, at that age.

Then, she'd spent the next day in more meetings at the UN, and with a few large corporations in New York. She met with the CEO of Travelbank, one of the largest banks in the US, who had some good questions about Galactic economics, questions she couldn't answer. She promised to get a joining with him and one of the Casitian economists.

She got back to the moon completely exhausted, and ready for a break. Ja'el had been so wonderful. She'd gotten some food from the common dining hall, and had created a soothing atmosphere for them to eat in, and then suggested they spend some time just relaxing, and not think about anything going on. Although she'd arrived late in Earth evening, it was the middle of that Galactic day. One of the things that Marianne had the hardest time getting used to the time difference on the moon they used the Casitian system: a Casitian day was divided into eight hours, each lasting the equivalent of three Earth hours, resulting in a day cycle lasting 32 Earth hours. Because the station was on Casitian time, it was completely out of sync with Earth time. She had slowly begun to get used to it, but it was also nearly impossible to explain to people on Earth the difference in time. And the Casitian sleep cycle went along with the Casitian day. They spent about 20 Earth hours awake, and 12 asleep. When she was on the moon for extended periods, she got used to that pattern. But whenever she had to go back and forth between the moon and Earth, everything got messed up in her body and head, and she ended up exhausted and cranky.

Ja'el massaged her head, and she calmed down. She wasn't ready to sleep yet, and she was happy just to be in Ja'el's presence. In all of her meetings, she was beginning to get the sneaking suspicion that things were not going to be as smooth as she'd hoped after hearing the President tell her that the US would cooperate. There were still very solid pockets of resistance, and those were coalescing and strengthening. She knew that she needed to have a joining with Silandra, who was good at seeing patterns, as well as Ja'el, Erit'ala, David and others, to talk about what she was seeing, and to think about things they could do. But all of those thoughts began to melt away under the gentle touch of Ja'el's hands, and her lyre'es'gkin, sending calm, and something else... Marianne looked up at Ja'el and smiled. Ja'el bent her head down to kiss Marianne, who became lost in the sensations between them.

San Jose, California, Earth, January 20, 2012

Joel sat across from Dwight, who was busily eating his french fries. “Dude, are you listening to me?”

With a stuffed mouth, Dwight looked up and said, “Yes, yes, Joel, I'm listening. I just don't know what to tell you. I don't think that Marianne will ever trust you again. But then again, she forgave me, so I guess you never know.”

Joel sighed. “I know, I know. I just need to figure out a way to make better what I screwed up. I really screwed up. I don't know what I was thinking.”

Dwight said, “I know what you were thinking. You were jealous of Marianne, and you were pissed off at Laura. You were thinking with your...”

“Alright, already! Look, can you talk with Marianne for me? Tell her I don't expect her to forgive me, or take me back or anything, but if she can think of a way I can help, I'm willing.”

“OK, dude, I will. I'm sorry that you haven't been with us. It's been fun working with the scientists. I'm almost, like, well, respected now that they realize that there really were UFOs.”

Joel smiled, and was genuinely happy for his friend, who had survived years and years of abuse for being a UFOlogist. They finished their meal, and said their goodbyes. Dwight took Joel in a clasped-arm hug, which surprised Joel, but he went through it. Joel walked to a house he was presently sharing with a bunch of other people. It had seemed to make sense for him to move back to San Jose, since he was so familiar with it, and most of his friends lived here. He hadn't liked DC much anyway. He got back to his house, and didn't know what to do, so he started surfing the web, the news sites, and blogs he usually read. One blogger, whom he'd started to read while working for Gerard, was talking about a new organization—the Front for Liberation from Galactics, or FLG. Joel didn't think this was too serious, but he went looking for it anyway. He found an incredibly well done website, with bulletin boards, a blog with about ten authors submitting articles, and an upcoming conference.

Joel had a thought that took him by surprise. He was a known anti-Casitian. He'd worked for Gerard, he'd made statements. He could infiltrate this organization, and find out how serious they were. That was something that perhaps Marianne and rest of the Casitian team would appreciate. And he was going to be careful. He sent an email to the owners of the FLG website, indicating his interest. He started his own blog, which was something he had wanted to do for a while, and his first post was about the FLG, and other opposition bloggers and websites. He went out of his house, and walked down to the local library, and signed up for an anonymous account. He then sent Marianne an encrypted email, with a short message, that basically told her what he was going to do, and that he would contact her on a regular basis using this email account, with any information that he felt was useful to her and the Galactics. And he apologized. He felt better. Maybe he could make up for the mess he'd made.

Lubbock, Texas, Earth, January 20, 2012

Dennis’ email beeped. It beeped constantly these days. He figured it was time to turn that notification off, since he was getting several hundred emails a day, now. But for some reason, he was curious what the next batch of emails had in it.

One stood out, from Joel Martin. That surprised Dennis. He knew Joel's story pretty well. SETI scientist, discredited in what was called, at the time, SETI scandal number two, but which turned out to be a signal from the Casitians. Joel had been vindicated, and had started to work for the Casitians, but had become disillusioned, so he started to work for Gerard Hopkinson, who was running on an anti-Galactic platform. Then, all of a sudden, he disappeared. He had stopped working for Gerard, but no one knew what had happened. And here it was, an email in his box, suggesting they work together.

The explanation Joel gave for why he left Gerard's campaign seemed reasonable. Joel felt that it was likely that Gerard would not win, and he felt a need for more direct action. Dennis was hearing from people all over the country, in fact, all over the world, who wanted to be involved in direct action. He wanted to meet Joel in person, and if he felt comfortable with him, he would introduce Joel to the key players of FLG. The website of FLG was designed to make people feel like the FLG was well organized, but it was mostly for show. But Dennis had put months into going into the underground of a variety of already existent movements, getting them on board. He had made contacts with conservative religious leaders, such as evangelical preachers in the US and Catholic bishops from around the world. He had connected with mullahs from a variety of Muslim countries as well, so that when the movement went international, they would be ready.

There had been planning meetings, and assessments of Galactic technology. They had come to the conclusion that they could not use any advanced weapons. They had made the assessment that Galactics likely could not deactivate firearms that did not have any electronic components. Dennis had gotten funding from a number of sources, and he had contracts with several arms manufacturers for weapons that were, in some senses, vintage. No special sights, none of the new technologies available for firearms. But there were a whole host of firearms they could use, including machine guns.

One of the ongoing disputes was how to start. Some felt that it made sense to take over the Galactic aid offices. Others thought that a takeover of the UN was a good first step, although Dennis was doubtful about that. There was a week-long retreat of the highest FLG members set up for a few weeks from now, and he hoped to get more information in preparation for that meeting. He wondered whether Joel could help with that.

He responded to Joel's email with a suggestion that they meet in person. He gave Joel a time and a place. The location was close enough to Dennis' home so that it wasn’t much of a burden for him, but far enough away not to clue Joel in on where he lived. He gave Joel enough time to arrange a plane, since Dennis lived in Texas. He sent off the email, and wondered whether or not Joel would choose to make the meeting.

His phone rang. “Hello.”

“Hi Dennis, it's Thomas.” Thomas was chair of the FLG board. He was a member of the state senate in South Carolina.

“Hi Thomas, what's up?”

“Well, you'd never believe this, Dennis. I had a brief meeting with some of the leaders of the state senate and house, and, well, a bill with a lot of co-sponsors is making its way through the system. It basically repudiates the President's position on the Galactics, and solidifies an opposition to it in South Carolina. It criminalizes any Galactic funding of any program, provides for state trooper and South Carolina National Guard protection from Galactic influence of any sort. It provides for the immediate imprisonment of any Galactic agents.”

Dennis was amazed. “What prompted this?”

“People down here are pretty angry at the President for going off and just caving in to the Galactics. And the Governor is willing to sign this bill—he is angry that the president never consulted him on that decision.”

“How can I help?”

“I think this can spread, Dennis. I think we can pass this bill, and there are other states that can use it as a model. I think we can get at least six or more states to get on board.”

Dennis didn't want to get too far into politics, though. “Thomas, you know how I feel about politics. The FLG is about direct action.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Once we get a good number of states in on this, we can mobilize the FLG to help with the situation in other states. This bill, by the way, will provide for what we're calling a 'citizen militia' to fight the Galactics. That's going to be the FLG.”

Dennis realized what a sea change this might cause. He suddenly wondered whether or not they could actually win.

“That's great, Thomas. Thanks for the info. Please keep me posted. We'll incorporate this into our planning at the retreat.”

“You are very welcome, Dennis. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

As Dennis hung up the phone, his brain started to work very fast. And he realized how Joel could be of help to him. He hoped Joel would agree to a meeting. He heard another beep of his email, and saw a reply from Joel, that was simply, “See you there, then.” Dennis was elated.

Washington, DC, Earth, January 22, 2012

“I think it is of the utmost importance that we are very sure that the Casitians are truly trustworthy, and benevolent, before we agree to let them rule our country, which they are doing now. I have not seen enough evidence to convince me yet.” Gerard used a strident, but measured tone to reply to the question put to him by the debate moderator.

The moderator said, “Mr. Vice President, do you have a response?”

“Yes, certainly, I do. Mr. Hopkinson, you don't take the virtual elimination of the scourges of Malaria, AIDS, and Cholera as evidence for the benevolence of the Galactics? What about the systems they have put in place to provide clean water? What about the aid centers in the US which are providing superior health care, free education, and replacement income for those displaced by the company closures? There is, in fact, not one shred of evidence that the Casitians wish us harm. They seem to be interested in our welfare. They are human, after all, and Earth is the home of their ancestors. I can't see why they would not be completely interested in our well being. And they seem willing to let us run our own country, except where it conflicts with the requirements that provide for the healthy environment for dolphins, which, I might add, provides a healthy environment for humans as well.”

Gerard watched as the other candidates made similar statements. The moderator asked the next question of the Vice President. “Mr. Vice President, how do you think the Galactic environmental requirements are going to affect the economy long term?”

Gerard loved this question. This would allow him to focus on the uncertainty, because there was a lot of uncertainty in the future. The Vice President answered it in a predictable fashion. With Galactic help, and modifications to their economy, they could get back to where they had been, or even better.

“Mr. Hopkinson, do you have a response?”

“Yes, I do indeed. We have no assurance that they will provide the kind of assistance which would allow us to fully regain our economy. First of all, Casitians are, basically, communist, and don't understand or approve of market capitalism. Millions of people have been displaced by the shutdowns, and by the downstream effects of those shutdowns. Some will be getting back to work, but many will remain outside of the economy for years. People are being encouraged to leave the economy—to go to school, or just, well, not work. That will not be good for the US economy in the long term. The environmental regulations are extremely strict, and will continue to hobble companies from making useful products and providing shareholder value. There is no evidence I've seen that we will ever recover from this debacle.”

This was, in fact, the truth, and they all knew it. They all were doing their best to work their way around this elephant in the room, but it was plain to everyone. Their economy would never be the same. This was one of Gerard's main points, and he had honed this particular part of his message very well.

More questions about the economy and other things related to that were asked, and answered—predictably, as Gerard thought.

“Last question, to Mr. Hopkinson. You have stated on many occasions that you felt that the lifestyle of the Casitians provided a particular danger to the United States. Can you elaborate a bit on that, please?”

This was Gerard's favorite question, and it was another question he felt that he could work well with. “Yes, I'm happy to. The Casitians have a stagnant society. They have lived in the same way for over two thousand years. They have not improved their technology, explored new galaxies. They have basically done nothing except sit around idle, grow just enough food for themselves, like poor subsistence farmers, take advantage of Galactic technology that they did not invent, and practice immorality and promiscuity. I hardly think that this is the kind of model we would like to have for our society.”

“Mr. Vice President—a response?”

“Yes, thank you. Mr. Moderator, ladies and gentlemen, we are not suggesting that we adopt the moral values of the Casitians. We think that they can learn a lot from us. But we feel that the positive work that the Casitians have done here on Earth outweighs the negative aspects of their lifestyle.”

The rest of the candidates had similarly weak responses, Gerard thought. Luckily, this was a Republican contest, after all. None of the candidates were going to suggest that the Galactic lifestyle was superior to ours, like some of the Democratic candidates had.

After the debate, Gerard watched multiple reactions and analyses. Fox news, of course, thought he had won the debate, hands down. Other networks, like CNN and MSNBC, were less certain. Bloggers were all over the map, but the prominent conservative ones were on his side. But they all thought that the Vice President had not held his own as well as they thought he should have. And they were all acting as if this was now a race between the Vice President and Gerard. That was good news for Gerard, as well.

Moon Station, 35 Paqn, 780/January 30, 2012

Rita's voice sounded very strained. “Henry, have you spoken to the lawyer about the house closing?”

Henry had not been looking forward to this conversation. He had been, frankly, avoiding it for weeks. “Yes, Rita, I have. She seems to think that it will all progress fine. The buyer is using cash, apparently, so the closing should happen within two weeks. Once it happens, she will add that amount to the escrow account. She will then do the final split of the escrow. She has all of your financial information.”

Rita sounded as if she was going to cry. “Henry, please, is there any way we can talk about this. We need to sell the house anyway, I understand, since you are living in San Francisco, and I am living in New York. But I'd like you to reconsider making the divorce final. I love you, Henry.”

Henry sighed. He still cared a lot for Rita, even given her limitations. And, ultimately, the major difference of opinion that they had about the Casitians was only the final straw for Henry. And, of course, it didn't help that he had Jur'tic to compare Rita to, which was, in a sense, completely unfair. But Henry had been unhappy in their marriage for years. He realized that it was mostly because he had been unhappy in the role he had assigned himself. Their marriage was wrapped around that role. He'd tried to be the perfect upright, conservative man that his parents had expected. He went to the right college, studied all of the right things, got the right jobs in the right places, married the right woman. Henry was happy they hadn't had children.

“Rita, I'm sorry. I still care a lot about you, but our marriage can't work. I'm not the same man you married, and, honestly, I don't think you'd like the man I've become. I can't fill that role that I so carefully made for myself. It never really fit me, and I see that now. I'm sorry that I hurt you in the process of discovering this. Someday, perhaps, you'll understand.”

Henry could hear Rita crying on the other end of the phone. He hoped she didn't realize that he was on the moon. He'd been spending more and more time here, and he expected to move here in the next few weeks. He was in love with Jur'tic, and he liked being on the moon, and being among the Casitians.

“Rita, I need to go. Please take care of yourself. I know that your job at Fox will be good for you. I hope that you eventually will forgive me.”

Henry waited a little bit for a response, and when none came, he indicated to the AI to disconnect the call. He worried a little bit about Rita, but he knew she would bounce back.

Chapter 14: Opposition

New York, New York, Earth, February 1, 2011

Rita was nervous, but she tried not to let it show. She had an on-the-air report that was part of the show called, “They're Here!” The show focused on the Casitians, or, in the words of the show, the “alien threat.” Her special report on Marianne Michaelson, was something she had worked very hard on. Amazingly, Marianne's sister, Yolanda, had agreed to an on-camera interview. She would only show a short excerpt of it. She was trying to get the network to set aside a half-hour slot to show the whole thing. It was pretty damning, from Rita's perspective.

Make-up had spent far too long on Rita. That made her feel, well, not photogenic. They had fussed over her hair and put on tons of different kinds of makeup. She didn't like the way it felt. She received the signal from the producer—thirty seconds. She straightened up, did a last quick check of her notes, and then waited.

“Rita Reid reports on the Galactic ambassador, Marianne Michaelson. Rita, what did you find?”

Rita looked toward the camera, and did a good job of pretending that she was talking directly to the host. “Keith, what we've found was quite disturbing. Marianne has had, of course, no diplomatic training whatsoever. She graduated from MIT with a degree in Computer Science, and then worked for a large database company in Boston. She was interested in the space program, and vied for a job with APSS, or Applied Precision Space Systems, based in the Bay Area. She has held only two jobs since graduating from MIT, and both of them were jobs doing low-level computer programming. There was little management involved there, and certainly no negotiation skills or diplomacy of any type.

Marianne's only qualification seems to be that she has been connected to the space program, and, perhaps, is similar to the Casitians because she is a lesbian. We did an interview with her own sister, and here is what she said about Marianne's role:

The screen cut to Yolanda, on her couch in her home. “I really have no idea why they would have chosen Marianne. She doesn't know anyone in government, or any diplomats. All she did all day was sit and do that programming stuff. I guess maybe because those Casitians are all, well, you know they do all sorts of immoral things, and Marianne has sort of always been that way, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I remember when she was fifteen, our parents found out that she had a girlfriend. Well, it was quite an issue, I remember. Mom and Dad forbid her from seeing that girl, of course. That's what I would have done.”

“Any other reason why you think the Casitians might have chosen your sister?”

“I can't think of one reason. It seems to me they should have chosen someone, well, with a bit more importance or something.”

The screen with Yolanda Jones switched back to a side view of Rita, who turned her head to look into the camera again.

“Keith, we can't figure out why the Casitians would have chosen Marianne to represent them, except that, perhaps, they knew she would easily become loyal to them, which she has. I talked with several CEOs and federal officials, who felt that Marianne was not taking their concerns seriously enough. It is a disturbing issue. Requests to Marianne and the Casitians for an interview have gone unanswered.”

“Thank you Rita, for that information. You can get more in depth information and an interactive feature on our website. Next, why you should not let that garden grow. The aliens think you should grow your own food. We think that's a throwback to the Middle Ages.”

They cut to commercials. Rita relaxed, and gathered up her notes. She walked out of the studio, and ran into Peter Tinch. “Nice job, Rita. I have a new assignment for you. We need to understand better this whole thing about how they raise their children. What do you think? Talk to some child psychologists, that sort of thing?”

“Sure, I can handle that. For next week’s show?”

“Yes. Thanks Rita. I think you'll do fine here.”

Rita smiled. She thought so too.

London, England, Earth, February 5, 2012

Augusto Sanchez paced in the hotel room. The name the public knew him by was Papa Ioannes Paulus Tertius, or Pope John Paul III. He had been elected Pope just last year, after Benedict the XVI's relatively short reign as Pope. He was the first Pope ever elected from the developing world. Of course, like all spiritual leaders in the world, he had been caught completely flat-footed by the Casitian arrival, by and all of the changes and challenges they had caused. Because he had been Pope for only a few months when the Casitians arrived, he had kept a very low profile, waiting to see what developed. His home country, Argentina, had enthusiastically embraced the Galactics, and had benefited greatly because of it. This had made Augusto even less inclined to oppose them. He had done a lot of research, and had kept a careful eye on the Galactics. He didn't think it was possible to oppose them. He did have to admit he liked their stance on non-violence.

But the cardinals were having fits. Most of them, because of moral reasons, had opposed the Casitians strongly, and they wanted Augusto to publicly make the same stand. And, for the most part, Catholics from most of the world agreed with the cardinals. Augusto felt he had no choice. At the moment, he was waiting to meet a group of religious leaders who were in opposition to the Casitians. Among them was Imam Ayatollah al Kalyani, who had lately gathered together a large group of conservative and fundamentalist Muslims to fight the Casitians. Al Kalyani was from Iran, one of the few countries to oppose the Galactics, and they were working on gathering forces to actually fight them. Augusto thought this was a very bad idea. Another of the other people at this meeting was Jason B. Modes, who was becoming the leader of the fundamentalist and conservative Christian opposition to the Galactics.

One of his assistants came into the room. “Your Holiness, the meeting is ready.” Augusto turned, and followed his assistant out to the hotel elevator. Waiting next to the elevator was his secretary, who inclined his head. These days, Augusto felt it hard to trust those around him. He said nothing to the secretary, but did smile. The elevator came, and took them up several floors, where the meeting room was. His assistant preceded him into the room. When he walked in, everyone stood, and bowed. He sat in his seat.

The Imam started speaking in Arabic, and his translator started after a short pause. “Good morning to all of you. We join together in the knowledge that the Casitians, and the Galactic Community, are not good for the Earth. We have, perhaps, different perspectives on why this is true, but we all agree that it is not God's will that we bow to the Galactics.”

Jason Modes started to speak. “I think we can all agree that the Casitians do not obey the God we obey, do not worship the God we worship. We need to make sure that they leave this planet alone.”

Augusto felt called to a moderating tone. “Gentlemen. We really can't say anything about the God the Casitians worship. We differ between ourselves on this matter. I do think it is important for us to limit the influence of the Casitian culture on Earth culture. But I think expecting that they will leave this planet is rather unrealistic.”

The Reverend Modes looked upset. “Excuse me, your Excellency, but I know that we can oppose them. I am in contact with a group of people who have been researching the aliens, and they feel confident that with the right tactics, we can kick them off of Earth.”

Augusto shook his head sadly. “I'm afraid, Reverend Modes, that you are misinformed. Have you looked at the reports of how precisely, and completely, they were able to shut down hundreds of companies? I think you are underestimating them.”

The Imam cleared his throat, and started speaking. His interpreter started, “Please, each of you. Ultimately, we all agree that the aliens should not be on Earth. We all agree that we must do something to at least limit, or, perhaps, eliminate their influence on Earth. And, ideally, we can try and eliminate them. What we need right at this moment are public statements that are in solidarity against the aliens. Can we do that?”

The conversation continued, and finally a draft statement that they all agreed with was finished. They would print a full page ad in all major world newspapers, in every language. They agreed they would get as many religious leaders as possible to sign on to the statement. The Imam and the Reverend Modes seemed gratified, and satisfied with this as the first step toward, as Reverend Modes said, “Kicking the aliens back to their stupid cold little planet.” Augusto was not so sure.

Amarillo, Texas, Earth, February 5, 2012

Joel parked his rental car in the parking lot of the restaurant. It was a little run down sort of place that clearly had seen better days. It was on the old Route 66, east of Amarillo. It was basically in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but cattle. There were lots of trucks parked, and a few cars.

He wandered into the restaurant, looking for Dennis. Dennis had refused to describe what he looked like, but had asked Joel to send him a picture.

A muscular man, with dark red hair and stark blue eyes, came up to Joel and put his hand out.

“Hello Joel, I'm Dennis.”

“Dennis, hello, good to meet you.” Joel shook his hand. Dennis looked to be in his mid-40s, although he had a full head of hair, without gray. He was wearing a pretty standard Texas outfit: jeans, a western shirt, and cowboy boots. His accent sounded like he was from Texas.

“I've got a table over here.” Dennis led him to a table in the back. They sat down, and a waitress came over to them quickly.

“What can I get y'all? We have a great special on T-bone steaks tonight.”

Joel looked at the menu, and decided that a steak would be a good idea, even though he didn't really like steak much. But he wanted to make a specific impression. “Yes, the T-bone sounds great. Medium-rare please.”

Dennis looked up. “Yes, darlin', I'll have the T-bone as well, thank you. Well done, please.”

Joel inwardly cringed. He could have ordered his steak better done. He wondered whether he really knew what he was doing. The waitress asked about drinks, and took their order, then took their menus and walked off.

“So, Joel, how did you find the FLG?”

“Well, as you know, I'd been working for Gerard Hopkinson, but had been frustrated by politics. First, it's not clear that he can win in November, and I think we need to do something direct, something that will have an effect. Even if he won, I think that it would take a lot to get congress to reverse what the current President has done. I felt the need to find people who are working to really get these aliens out of here. There is a blog I was reading a lot, and they mentioned you. So I looked the FLG up. I was impressed, frankly, and glad that you exist.”

“So why did you defect from the Casitians in the first place? You were working with them for a while.”

“Well, not so long actually. When I first heard about the whole thing, I was very skeptical. Then I heard about their lifestyles, and I really didn't like it. But I wanted to be vindicated, so I helped with that initial process to get the word out. But I was disillusioned by them, and I don't trust them. So I left, and Gerard seemed the best bet at the time. But I think the FLG is better.”

Dennis looked at him, weighing what he said. Joel could tell that Dennis wanted to believe him, but that there was a part of him that didn't trust Joel. He didn't know what he could do to make Dennis trust him.

The waitress came back with their steaks, and the beer that they had ordered. Joel was hungry, and the steak, even though it was less well cooked than he generally liked it, was quite tender and tasty. Joel and Dennis talked about the Casitians and about Joel's life. He didn't mention Laura. He thought it would not be a good idea to let Dennis know that there was an emotional tie to the Casitians. He had thought of Laura often, and hoped that whatever he did, he would be able to get back together with her someday.

“Well, Joel, I have an assignment for you, if you're willing. You can, if you want, see this as a test. I need to know whether we can really trust you.”

Joel nodded his head. He was a bit afraid of what this assignment would be. He hoped he could actually do it.

“We are doing a raid on a small aid facility in Louisiana. We want to shut it down, and see what the Galactics will do when that happens. I want you on that team. The raid will be during the business day. I have information that there will be a Galactic agent visiting that facility on a specific day. We want to kidnap the Galactic agent, and get information from them.”

Joel was worried. It seemed straightforward. The question was, how to warn Marianne about it, and not tip off the FLG that the Galactics had been warned. He'd have to discuss that with Marianne.

“OK, sure, I can do that. How many others on the raid?”

“There will be three others. It will happen in about two weeks. And you will be staying with Albert Festulo, in Shreveport. He'll be expecting you 12 hours from now. Here's his address, and directions.” He pushed a piece of paper with a printout of directions.

“Please give me your cell phone.” Dennis put out his hand. “You'll get it back when this assignment is over.”

Joel realized that he was stuck. He either could forget the whole thing, and walk out the door, or go through with this. How could he warn Marianne? He would have to figure it out, while he was driving. The good thing was that he knew no one from the Galactic team would be calling him. Joel took his phone and its holster off of his belt, and handed it to Dennis. Dennis turned it off.

“OK, well, I'll either see you in a few weeks at the FLG retreat, or I won't ever see you again.” Dennis had a crooked smile on his face. Joel nodded. Dennis got up from the table, and walked out of the restaurant. It was clear that he did not want Joel to follow.

Joel finished his steak, took a pit stop in the bathroom, then got into his car and started driving. He realized that he could get one of those pre-paid cell phones at most convenience stores. He did a good job of making sure he wasn't followed, and in about 3 hours he found a store that had them. He bought one, and then as he was driving, called the number he knew for Marianne.

A voice he did not recognize answered. “Hello, this is the number for Marianne Michaelson, liaison to the Galactic community. How may I help you?”

Joel explained patiently who he was, and that he needed to speak to Marianne within 5 hours. He felt he needed to ditch the phone at least 3 hours away from Shreveport.

The voice said, “Please wait a moment, I will find her.” He heard silence, then “Joel? It's Marianne. I got your email. What's going on?”

Joel explained what was happening, and what was going to happen. “I don't know exactly when it is supposed to take place, or which aid center in Louisiana. And I don't think I will be able to tell you, either.”

“Actually, that's easy. It's the Shreveport office. Laura is the only Galactic agent slated to visit an aid office in Louisiana this month. Thanks, Joel. We can handle it fine, it will work out, without them figuring out you warned us.”

Joel heaved a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Marianne. I need to ditch this phone.”

“Good luck. I look forward to hearing your report after the retreat.”

“Thanks. Goodbye.”

Joel took the next exit, and drove down one road for just a little bit. He took the phone, and used the tire iron in the trunk to smash the phone to bits. He then took some of the bits, and buried them next to the road. He scattered bits of the phone over the course of 100 miles. He'd paid cash for the phone. He figured there was no way that anyone in the FLG would know he'd bought or used a phone, or that he’d called the Casitians.

He cruised fast, to make up a bit of time. He arrived at the house he'd been directed to in 11 hours and 12 minutes, with plenty of time to spare. He wondered whether or not he would get to talk to Laura.

South San Francisco, California, Earth, February 5, 2012

Henry carried the last box into the little storage pod. That was it. Most of the possessions he had taken with him after separating with Rita were in this little pod. He had no idea whether or not he would ever get this stuff out of storage. He was moving to the moon, and moving in with Jur'tic, which made him very happy. He liked the moon, liked Casitians, and finally felt useful in a way he'd never managed to feel as a journalist. He thought that perhaps he would even move to Casiti, when things on Earth settled down. He got out of the pod, closed the door, and locked it. He took out his cell phone and called the storage company, and told them that it was available for pickup. He went back into his house, looked down, and saw the three bags sitting on his living room floor. That was everything he'd need for quite some time. He took out his slim Galactic communication device and called Rew'l, who had promised him a ride up to the moon. Rew'l appeared.

“You're ready?” Henry nodded.

“I'll be right there.”

Henry wandered around the house for a while, remembering the short time he'd lived there. He moved out to the Bay Area to work with Maria Gomez only four months ago, and rented this little furnished house in South San Francisco. He'd never really settled in; he never really got to know the neighborhood, or the neighbors. He spent most of his time either in San Francisco, at the offices of Maria's company, or on the moon.

He picked his bags up, and left the keys on the table in the hall. He closed the door, and walked out toward the street. A gust of wind signaled the arrival of the flyer with Rew'l. An oblong door appeared, and he entered it.

Moon Station, 46 Paqn, 780/February 5, 2012

This joining was turning out to be much more difficult than Marianne had anticipated. She kept forgetting, for some reason, the Casitian's aversion to subterfuge. They couldn't understand Joel spying on the Earth organization for them, they couldn't understand why Marianne wanted to set things up so that the people doing the raid would fail, but also would not be able to tell that it was because the Casitians had been warned.

Silandra said, “Marianne, we don't understand why we should not just shut down that aid center, now that we know it is a target.”

“Because then they would know that Joel warned us. That would put him in great danger.”

“Why? Would they hurt him because he told us the truth?”

Marianne was exasperated. Ja'el tried to come to the rescue. “Why don't we not worry about the reasons, and just try and do what Marianne wants.”

Silandra shook her head. “That would be against our principles, and we have been told quite strongly by the Caraj that we cannot act in ways that are against our principles. I cannot allow it.”

Marianne said, “So what can we do?”

Silandra looked sad. “We need to simply shut down that office, now that we know it is a target. Laura cannot visit.”

“But they might target other aid centers. If we don't have Joel to warn us ...”

Laura spoke up. “What if we do nothing?”

Marianne looked at Laura, surprised. “But you would be at great risk.”

“I trust Joel. I think he would prevent anything horrible from happening.”

Marianne said, “But Joel will be with other people, people he doesn't know. I don't think he will be in control.”

Laura looked at Silandra “Is there something that you can give me that will protect me?”

Silandra thought a moment, then nodded. “Yes, we have a device that will basically put everyone within a given radius to sleep immediately, except the person using the device. And there is an antidote, to wake selected people up.”

Marianne had her answer. “Then we should do nothing, but give Laura this device to use as she sees fit. That would still be within your principles, wouldn't it?”

Silandra looked doubtful, but nodded slowly. “Marianne, I don't like this very much, but I will allow it. Laura, talk to G'rrilzi, He will show you the device.”

Marianne thought that perhaps, in the end, this might all work out.

Shreveport, Louisiana, Earth, February 6—17, 2012

Joel had company almost all of the time. They clearly didn't trust him. He wondered whether they thought that perhaps he'd made some contact with people during his drive here, but they didn't ask, or mention it. They had, however, searched him and his car.

They hadn't told him yet which day they were going to do the raid, but he had been briefed about the procedure. They would go in with their weapons concealed, acting as if they were trying to get aid. They would then take over the center, and find the Galactic agent. Joel, it turned out, would be securing the door. He didn't like that he might be far away from Laura, but Marianne had been warned, and he would do what he could to protect Laura.

The days wore on, and more than a week had gone by. He was starting to get bored. One day, he was shaken awake. “Today's the day, dude! Get up! We're leaving in one hour.”

He showered, got dressed, and went to the living room to get his firearm. He'd had to practice at a firing range, since he'd never used a gun before. He went outside, where the other men were gathering and getting into the car. He got in the back.

It was a short drive to the center. They parked the car in the back, in an alley behind the aid center. They walked around to the front. The center seemed deserted. Joel saw a flyer parked on the lawn across from the center. So, they hadn't shut the center down. He'd been afraid that the Galactics might do that, instead of helping him.

They walked casually into the center, as they'd discussed. Joel looked around. There were two people waiting in the waiting area, and one person talking to a caseworker. The rest of the building seemed to be empty of people.

Albert, who was the leader of this group shouted, “Everyone! This is a raid! Hands up in the air!” One of the other men had plastic handcuffs, which they used to tie the hands of the caseworker and the three clients. Joel stood just inside the door, guarding it and looking out in case someone came in. The last man, someone named Leo that Joel had not liked at all, went into the back. In a few minutes, Joel saw a woman and Laura walking into the front. They were both quickly tied with handcuffs.

Leo said to Joel, “Which bitch is the Galactic agent?” Joel was surprised. There wasn't necessarily any reason that Joel would know who it was. He had told Dennis he had worked for the Galactics for a very short time, and had gotten to know only a very few people who were agents. But in this case, he knew very well who it was. He struggled, and looked at them both, pretending to try and figure it out. He didn't want to give Laura away.

“I don't know, Leo, I don't know either of these women. Sorry.”

Leo looked angrily at the woman who was not Laura, and held his gun to her head. “I bet it's you, is it?”

Laura intervened. “No, it's me. I'm the Galactic agent. My name is Laura Hernandez.” Leo threw the other woman down, and pointed his gun at Laura, who looked surprisingly calm.

“Good, good. Joel, you have your assignment, and I have mine. He pulled the safety off of his gun, and Joel began to leap in his direction, when everything went black.

He had a splitting headache. Everything was swimming in front of his face. He heard in the background “Shit, shit, shit.” He tried to get up, but he couldn't really see anything. He heard sirens. Oh, no, the police. He was carrying a weapon, and he'd been part of a raid. That woke him up more, and he took in what was in front of him. The only people in the center were the four men. Everyone else—Laura, the caseworker, and the clients—were gone. Joel stumbled up and lurched toward the back door, and the others seemed to be following. Albert had been driving, and he got into the car, and got it started. They drove into a different alley, and slowly emerged onto a street a couple of blocks away from the center. Albert tried to nonchalantly drive the car toward the highway and back to his house. Joel was shaking uncontrollably. What had he gotten himself into?

Moon Station, 50 Paqn, 780/February 18, 2012

Laura was sitting with Marianne in the common dining room. “It was awful. There was no question that Joel had been misled about the purpose of the raid. It wasn't to get information. It was to kill me. And they would have succeeded if Joel hadn't warned us.”

Marianne said, “Well, I am glad that you engineered it so that Joel didn't get caught. But I'm not so happy about the rest of those people walking around. It sounds like they have a pretty nasty agenda.”

“Yes. I think we need to give all of our agents this protection.”

“I agree, and I imagine Silandra will agree as well.” Marianne sighed. When would violence stop?

Chapter 15: Conflict

Near Lubbock, Texas, March 3, 2012

The gathering was impressive, Joel thought. Several hundred people, almost all men, gathered at a large compound in Texas, owned by some old oil gazillionaire. There had been meetings, and talks, and lots of informal conversations over beers or martinis. There was golf and target shooting, and even some quail hunting. He saw Reverend Jason B. Modes, and a number of other prominent Christians who were against the Casitians. He had gone to a presentation that Modes did, which talked about the meeting he'd had with the Pope and some Imam from Iran, who had all agreed on a statement strongly opposing the Casitians.

Joel had come to realize that the information that he could gather here would be enough. He could be done with all of this. He hoped that he would be able to move to the moon—for one thing, he had come to realize he might actually prefer it there. And, of course, once he skipped out on these people after this retreat, he was going to be a marked man. The moon would be the safest place for him.

“Joel, so good to see you again.”

Joel turned toward the hand on his shoulder.

“Hi Dennis. Good to see you.”

“I hope you are not angry at me.”

Joel had been extremely angry, but he couldn't let it show. “No, not really, Dennis. I understand. You really don't need information from the Galactics, you wanted to make a point. I get it. It's just that perhaps you underestimated them.”

Dennis looked at Joel, as if to examine him. “Yes, well, you are right. We did underestimate their capabilities. I guess it makes sense, of course. But we think that we can circumvent their protections.”

“How? That's pretty good protection they have.”

“It won't protect them against snipers, or against rockets, will it?” He had a smirk on his face.

Joel raised his eyebrows. “No, I guess it wouldn't.”

“That, my friend, is what's next. We did hope that the death of a Galactic agent in the raid would send a message. But there will be other messages we'll be sending. In fact, one is being sent right now.” He smiled. And pointed toward the TV screen. “Any moment now, there should be a very interesting story reported. Keep watching.” He walked away.

He wandered around the compound, noticing who was here, who was talking with whom, and what was being said. He was filing it all away. He had lots of information for Marianne and the rest of the team. Also, Albert had given him access to his laptop, and Joel had surreptitiously copied an enormous number of files onto a thumb drive. These people trusted him now, which was their mistake.

He heard a shout, and walked quickly toward the sound. Dennis was in front of the large screen TV in the main gathering room.

Dennis smiled, and said, “Yes! It worked!” CNN was showing a large building that was a smoking ruin.

The anchor said, in a droning voice, “At least 20 staff members were killed in a rocket attack on a Galactic aid center in Columbia, South Carolina. An organization called the FLG, or Front for the Liberation from Galactics has assumed responsibility for the rocket attack. More people would have been injured or killed, except the center had been closed that day for a staff meeting.”

Joel mentally prepared how he was going to get himself out of this group. The retreat would be over in a couple of days, and he would ask for a little bit of time off, to take care of things at home in San Jose. He would pretend he was moving to Shreveport, which was one of the main centers for the FLG. He'd then contact Marianne, and get transport to the moon.

Moon Station, 61 Paqn, 780/March 3, 2012

The AI disconnected the call, and Laura was stunned. How could they do that? How could they just send a rocket and kill people? She cried for the life of Wanita, who she had visited a number of times. The Columbia center was one of the best run of all of them. She'd met the doctors who worked there, and the caseworkers.

She hoped that Joel had managed to get enough information out of those people to stop them. Laura had been unsure of Joel, until that day in the center, when he had chosen not to identify her, and she saw him so clearly about to jump in to save her life. During the raid, she hadn't been able to risk waking him up separately and talking with him. But she knew she'd be able to talk with him again soon.

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, April 15, 2012

Dennis was wilting under the abuse of Thomas' ranting. Thomas was chair of the board of the FLG. He had been quick to remind Dennis that Dennis was simply an employee of FLG, not it's leader.

“I can't believe you actually let that man into our retreat! How could you be so stupid? You should have known that the reason he left the Hopkinson campaign was to go back to the Casitians. Hell, maybe he never left the Casitians, but was a spy all along! What an idiot you were! And why didn't it occur to you that the reason why the raid in Louisiana failed was because they were warned? Yeah, I heard, you took his cell phone! So what? You can pick up a phone anywhere these days. You are such an idiot!”

Thomas stopped shouting, but Dennis realized that there was nothing he could say in his defense. He had been stupid. It had all been wishful thinking. He'd gotten virtually no information on the Casitians from Joel, and Joel had managed to get an incredible amount from them. Albert had finally confessed to Dennis that he'd given Joel his laptop to borrow, which contained a lot of inside information about the FLG. It had been a complete fiasco.

“So now, what are we going to do? Every single bombing since the first bombing in South Carolina has failed. There has been no successful action in weeks. They know too much!”

Dennis said, “They have no way of knowing what actions we are planning—that wasn't in any information Joel might have gotten. They have technology superior to what we knew. We have to rethink our approach.”

Thomas got up. “Yes, we need to rethink our approach. I think we also need to rethink our staff.” Dennis knew that meant that Thomas would have the board get rid of Dennis. It was time, he supposed, to go find another avenue to fight the Galactics. Perhaps one of the other organizations he'd made contact with could use some help.

He made himself sound conciliatory, even though he knew it was futile. “Thomas, I made a mistake, and I intend to do everything I can to make up for it. Yes, it was stupid. It will not be repeated.”

“Yes, Dennis, in that you are correct. It will not be repeated.”

Thomas turned, and walked out of the restaurant, leaving Dennis to pick up the check. He was glad the FLG credit card was still good.

Washington, DC, Earth, May 15, 2012

Gerard got out of bed, and immediately turned on CNN. He hadn't gone to bed last night until they had proclaimed him the winner of the California primaries. That primary was one of the most important, because California had the most delegates to the convention. It was late in the game, and Gerard was only slightly ahead of the Vice President in the delegate count. California carried him over the edge. He was going to win the nomination.

It had been a slog, these last couple of months. The bombing of the aid center in South Carolina had come just after “Super Tuesday,” which was fortunate. Super Tuesday had given him a lot of delegates, but he'd lost several primaries the weeks after the bombing. He vociferously spoke against people who would become terrorists, and kill innocent civilians in order to fight the Casitians. Eventually, he had turned the opinion back in his favor. California had been the big ticket he needed.

He would campaign for the rest of the primaries, but for all intents and purposes he was the Republican nominee for president. It was clear from CNN's reporting that they thought so as well. It felt good, but also daunting. He had to begin to position himself to win in November.

Moon Station, 130 Paqn, 780/May 15, 2012

Marianne was deeply worried. Gerard had all but won the Republican nomination for President. There were full page ads in hundreds of newspapers around the globe from religious leaders of many faiths that talked about how Earth needed to rid itself of the “evil influence” of the Casitians. The FLG had bombed an aid center. The information from Joel about the extent of the FLG, and who was involved in it, was staggering to look at. It went so much farther, and had many more government officials involved in it than Marianne had even thought possible. Public opinion continued to be basically in favor of the Galactics, yet there were very strong pockets of opposition to the Galactics. South Carolina had a bill that was still pending that would criminalize all Galactic activity in the state. The Governor said he would sign it.

Once the bombing of the South Carolina aid center had occurred, the Galactics had considered releasing a kind of nanobot that would incapacitate all projectile weapons, including guns and rockets. What they did instead was set up AI observation of all aid centers, and monitor activity within a 10 mile radius. That sounded impossible to Marianne, but they had already found, and inactivated, another possible rocket that was aimed at a center in Louisiana.

Marianne thought that the time would come when the Galactics would have to do something. She'd talked with Silandra and Erit'ala, who seemed not to understand. They thought that since public opinion was in their favor, it would all eventually work itself out. Marianne knew better.

Los Angeles, California, Earth, July 25, 2012

Gerard walked slowly onto the stage. He could hardly believe he'd gotten here. He had managed to get enough of a majority of delegates that he would be the nominee without a floor fight. It had been a long, long road. He had managed to come in second in New Hampshire, and he had won the Iowa Caucus. It had been touch and go for months. The other candidates besides himself and the Vice President had backed out, and most throwing their support to him. The base of the Republican party—the white, middle and upper class conservatives, most of whom were Christian—were deeply troubled by the Galactic threat, and threw their weight in his direction. Some conservatives, particularly the neo-cons, were much more lukewarm towards the Casitians, and aligned themselves with the Vice President. But that hadn't been enough. And the fact that most industries in the US had bounced back from the shutdowns hadn't mattered, either.

As he walked to the large central part of the stage at the convention center, he could hear the crowd yelling and clapping, and shouting his name: “Hopkinson! Hopkinson!” He was elated. He was one small step away from the White House, the goal of his life. He wished his father were still alive, to see him on his puny television. He remembered how his father used to sit in front of it and say to him, “Look there, that's a man you'll never be like. You'll never amount to anything.”

It gave Gerard some small sort of satisfaction to know that his older brother, who shared his father's opinion of Gerard, was still alive, as were the rest of his siblings, and his mother. It didn't matter that he hadn't spoken to them in years. Here he was, on this big stage, almost President of the United States.

He got to the podium and raised his arms wide, and flashed a broad smile. He let the adulation of the crowd wash over him for just a minute, as he took in all of the signs, and banners, and buttons with his name on them.

“Hello, my fellow Americans, and fellow Earth citizens.” At that, the crowd went crazy with claps and yells. He raised his arms again, to try and quiet the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you all. Tonight is an historic moment. Tonight is the beginning of the process to take this world back for Earth!” More claps and screams.

“Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we will fight to make the United States a safe haven for the people of Earth who want to live their lives the way they want to! People of Earth who believe in the American dream of freedom, and an enjoyable life. People of Earth who do not want to live by the arbitrary strictures of the Galactic requirements. People who think that humans are more important than big fish!” The crowd again went wild. He waited a bit to let it quiet down.

“People who don't believe a life of subsistence farming and immoral liaisons are the kind of life they want for themselves or their children! My candidacy is about living the Earth lifestyle, the lifestyle that the United States is known for, and the lifestyle that was emulated all around the world. There are many people who agree with us. Even this President has caved in to the immorality of the Casitians, and decided that it was better to go along with their 'requirements' than to fight them. Well, if you elect me President, I will fight. I will use the might of the United States to fight the Casitians, to oppose them wherever they are! We can win! We can send them back to where they came from!”

The crowd erupted. He knew he had them. And he knew he could tap into the deepest part of the unease that many felt about the Casitians. He could win, he knew it.

Moon Station, 40 Musb, 780/July 25, 2012

Marianne, Silandra, Ja'el, Henry, Jur'tic, Joel, and Erit'ala sat in the joining room, looking at a large screen, which showed Gerard speaking. They silently watched him as he gave his speech, full of triumph and vitriol. Marianne was stunned, and unhappy. She had known for weeks that Gerard was going to win the nomination. But the way he spoke was chilling. She knew that it would tap into the fears and uncomfortableness that Americans had felt towards Casitians, even as the Casitians had made their lives better. There was an increasing amount of nostalgia present in society for the “good old days” before the knowledge of a Galactic civilization, and before the knowledge of the greater intelligence of the dolphins—the time when humans were at the top of the totem pole, instead of low down in the hierarchy of sentient species.

At the end of the speech, Silandra spoke. “Dear ones, I am quite worried. The patterns I am beginning to see in the Earth community are quite troubling. He is just a small part of the pattern. My AI has been doing some analyses of Earth public communications. At this moment, there is the full spectrum of opinion present, but there is more and more weight at two disparate ends. For a long time people were undecided, or could see both the advantages and disadvantages to aligning Earth with the Galactic Community. But increasingly, people are making choices. And there is a strong coalescing force on the anti-Galactic end. I don't think it will take over, but it is very strong, and we have to find a way to deal with it.”

Joel said, “I'm not sure that there is a way to deal with it, Silandra. The people that I interacted with in the FLG would die to get rid of the Galactic influence. They will stop at nothing. They can't be reasoned with, or given anything—they have made up their minds, and they will die trying to get you off of this planet.”

“But don't they understand that the Galactic Community cannot, and will not, leave? This is the home planet of the parn's, and the parn's are a represented species in the Galactic community. They take precedence.”

Joel shook his head. “Silandra, all of that is lost on them. For them, Earth is the human planet, and always has been. Earth is for humans, Earth was created by God for humans. They don't care about the dolphins. To them, dolphins are still just big fish.”

Ja'el sighed. “So what is possible, here? What can be done?”

Joel said, “I don't have any idea. They won't back down. They might just all have to die trying.”

Marianne spoke up. “Well, that's not going to happen. The Casitians won't kill people.”

Joel said, “But Earth people kill people. I imagine that what might happen is that pro-Casitians end up fighting anti-Casitians.”

Silandra looked shocked. “We would never let that happen!”

“How will you prevent it?” Joel asked.

Silandra was silent. Marianne said, “What if, instead of them kicking the Casitians off of Earth, which is, as we've said, impossible, we kick them off?”

Joel turned to look at Marianne in shock. “What do you mean, kick them off?”

Marianne turned to Erit'ala. “Erit'ala, are there planets without sentient species that could support human life?”

Erit'ala nodded. “Yes, there are quite a few. The Galactic community controls colonization, and keeps track of planets that are habitable for a variety of species, but have no sentient life. That is how we were settled on Casiti. What are you thinking?”

“What if we offered the holdouts a brand new planet for them to colonize?”

Joel laughed. “Forget it Marianne. They would never agree to that.”

Ja'el said, “That may well be, Joel, but I think we should leave it on the table as something we might possible want to think about.”

Erit'ala said, “I'll talk to my contact at the Sejo. Perhaps they’ll have an idea for us.”

Chapter 16: Campaign Trail

Chicago, Illinois, Earth, September 20, 2012

The campaign was grueling for Gerard. They had a plane and several buses, and it seemed that he spent all of his time in the plane, or in a bus, or on a podium. He hadn't been home in weeks. Juliana accompanied him at times on the campaign trail, but only minimally. She clearly hadn't thought he would get this far, and hadn't been prepared to play the Presidential wife quite so soon. Gerard thought she was having second thoughts about the whole thing, but he knew she wouldn't leave until after the election.

He was, at this moment, on the plane, going somewhere. “So where are we going today?”

Angela looked up from her notes. “Ohio, sir. First stop is Cincinnati, at a rally for Veterans. Then we drive to Columbus for a conference—you are the keynote speaker for the conference on ‘Opposing Alien Influence in our Schools.’ On the way, we'll stop at as few towns—Lebanon, Wilmington and Octa, and you’ll speak at rallies that we have set up. We should arrive in Cincinnati in about an hour.”

“Do you have my speeches?”

“Yes, sir, the speechwriting team is working on them now. We'll be all set.”

For Gerard, this was all beginning to run together. He knew he'd been in Ohio before, but Ohio was a critical state, and campaigning there was crucial.

They arrived, and when his feet had just touched the tarmac, one of his assistants came up to him. “Sir, I have an urgent phone call from Thomas Martin.”

Gerard had been introduced to Thomas Martin. He was a state senator from South Carolina, a big political power player there, and increasingly elsewhere. He was strongly anti-Galactic, and had thrown his weight, power, and some money, in Gerard's direction. He had to take this call.

“OK, where can I take the call?”

“In the bus, sir.”

They walked toward the bus. Gerard loved the buses. His name was in huge letters on the bus, and it was festooned with lots of red, white and blue. They got on the bus, and Gerard found his way to the back, where the office was. His assistant gave him a cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Gerard, it's Thomas Martin.”

“Yes, Thomas, sorry to keep you waiting.”

“It's no problem. I made this urgent call because the governor is about to sign that anti-Galactic bill, and I thought that you might want to bring your campaign here for that. The governor wants you at the signing, which is tomorrow morning.”

“He wants me at the signing? Yes, we'll make it happen. We'll rearrange whatever we need to so that we can be there.”

“And Gerard, we need to have a private meeting while you are here, the two of us. I have some very important things to discuss with you. There are some very important things coming together now, and you need to know about them.”

“Thank you very much Thomas. I'll make room for that as well. My people will be in touch.”

“See you tomorrow.” The call ended.

“Please get Angela in here, now!”

The assistant scurried off, looking afraid. Angela appeared soon after.

“We need to reschedule tomorrow. The governor of South Carolina is going to sign that anti-Galactic bill, and he wants me at the signing. Can you work all of that out?”

“Gerard, we don't need to be in South Carolina. We already have those electoral votes in the bag. We had planned to go to California, there are some important rallies, and you were invited to speak at the AFL-CIO conference. We can't miss that!”

“Angela, we are going to the signing in South Carolina tomorrow, and I need you to set up a private meeting with Thomas Martin after the signing. There is no conversation here. This has to happen.”

Angela furrowed her brow and stared at the schedule, deep in thought. “OK, Gerard, whatever you want. I'll set it up. But I think it's a mistake. That bill is very extreme, more extreme than even many anti-Casitian people are.”

“That bill is a model for bills around the country, and I want to make sure that it spreads.”

“But Gerard, you want to win in November. This will alienate voters who might be swayed in your direction.”

At that moment Gerard realized that he had come to fully believe in the things that he said. Yes, he wanted to win in November, and he was sure that he would. And he wanted the Casitians off of Earth.

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, September 21, 2012

Thomas Martin was taking a risk. Telling Gerard Hopkinson about the FLG, and about the coalescing opposition to the Galactics and the actions they were beginning to take, seemed to make a lot of sense. He wanted Gerard to be in place as an ally when he won the White House. If he didn't win the White House, well, it would all be moot anyway. He didn't know how Gerard would react. He imagined that Gerard would be on their side, based on what he had said.

The signing ceremony had gone well. Gerard had played his part perfectly. Thomas knew that Gerard would get some bad press because of it, but he was gratified that Gerard realized how important it was to be here. The same bill was already pending in Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana, and he was working hard to get it introduced in Texas, Oklahoma, Utah, and Missouri.

He heard a knock on his office door. “Yes, come in.” His secretary entered, with Gerard in tow.

“Welcome, Gerard. I'm glad you came to make this meeting.” Thomas got up, and extended his hand. Gerard took it, and they shook hands. None of that clasped-arm hug business, never for Thomas.

“Thank you, Thomas, for all of your support. It will be critical to our victory in November.”

“Yes, yes, Gerard, you know I believe in your candidacy, and that we share the same cause—to get the aliens off of Earth. I wanted to talk with you in more detail about what I've been involved in, and what's happening, and get you and your organization connected to what's going on. What's amazing is that there is an incredible coming together of the varied threads of alien opposition, and I felt that you needed to know about this. I feel that if, in a month, you win the presidency, you need to have all of this in place.”

“Thank you. I'm glad to know what's going on. You've clearly been a leader in a lot of the efforts against the aliens, haven't you?”

Thomas was gratified that Gerard understood his role. So many did not, and didn't give him credit for all that was happening. But he was the man behind it all. “Yes, Gerard, I have been a leader, and I continue to be.”

“I think you might be quite helpful in a Hopkinson administration, Thomas.”

Thomas smiled. Yes, Gerard got it. “So let me tell you about three different, but connected, efforts you should know about. First, the political. The bill that was signed into law today, which takes effect immediately, is a model for bills now pending in three states, and it is in the process of being introduced in at least four other states. I have a whole group of people working to spread that bill as far as possible, so that as many states as possible criminalize the alien influence.”

Gerard smiled. “Yes, I'm so glad that is happening. And, of course, when I win, we will press for a federal bill much like that.”

“Yes, we will want and need such a bill. Also, these bills provide for what is called in them a 'citizen militia'—which might seem unclear, but actually is already set up. It's called the FLG.”

Gerard was surprised by this. “The FLG? But that's considered a terrorist group. I mean, they were the ones that bombed the aid center in Columbia! How could that be?”

“We are in a position to put the FLG in place as the citizen militia that will enforce the law, in collaboration with the state and local police forces, most of which, at least in South Carolina, and increasingly elsewhere, are all FLG anyway.”

“How do you know this, Thomas?”

“Because I am the chair of the FLG. It is a risk telling you, but I hope that you know that the FLG is on your side. We want the aliens off of Earth as much as you do, and we are willing to put our bodies on the line to make it happen.”

Gerard sat back for a moment. Thomas wondered what he was thinking.

“OK, Thomas, this makes sense. I can go along with it. I can see how having the FLG would be incredibly useful.”

“Now for the third piece of the puzzle. As you know, there is a network of religious leaders all over the world that are anti-alien. What you might not know is that they are talking to one another, and coordinated. Their numbers include the major Imams of the Middle East, the Pope, and people like Reverend Jason B. Modes here in the US. And they are tied into the FLG. We've been meeting with them for months. They will be ready to act when the time comes.”

“Act, how?”

“They will be ready to mobilize their followers, and have them act when it is time for the uprising.”

“Uprising?”

“Yes, the plan is that when you are inaugurated in January, and the US puts into place a process which pushes the aliens out of the US, then cells in every country of the world will begin to protest the aliens, and target their centers, and sabotage their facilities. We also have gotten in place hundreds of fishing boats, who will start a large dolphin hunt. We will overwhelm the aliens.”

“This sounds like a good plan. And I imagine you will need the full might of the US military behind it?”

Thomas nodded. “That would be the key to success, yes.”

“Well, then I can guarantee this. You'll be on my transition team. Is there someone from your staff you can assign to my campaign so I can keep updated, and we can keep in touch?”

“Yes, indeed, I have an assistant, Justin, who will be perfect. He is quite gung ho for your campaign, as well. He'll be a real help to you.”

Gerard smiled, and got up. “Thank you Thomas, so much, for the information and the contact. This is very important.”

Thomas rose and gripped Gerard's hand. He was elated. This was all going to work. “Thank you Gerard. We will be in touch.”

Gerard turned and walked out of Thomas' office. Thomas went back to his desk and started on his long list of phone calls and emails, in the wake of this meeting.

New York, New York, Earth, September 21, 2012

Marianne had gone down to Earth to meet with Laura, as well as meet with White House staff. Things were getting out of hand. “So we have to simply stop all of our work in South Carolina?”

“Yes, we have to fire everyone who works for us, shut down operations, and stop giving aid to everyone we've been helping. Anybody who works for us will be arrested, and anyone who is getting aid from us will be arrested. None of us can go inside South Carolina, or we will be arrested, and tried, and, I imagine, put away for a good long time.”

Marianne groaned. “This is absurd!”

Laura nodded. “Yes, it is, but there isn't much we can do about it. And worse yet, this is spreading. This same bill is pending in Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana, and will almost certainly pass in the next few weeks.”

Marianne sighed. “Well, do what you have to do? We don't want anyone to get arrested because of it.”

“We'll set up extra aid centers near the borders of North Carolina, but not Georgia, since it's almost certain that we'll have to shut those down within the month. But people visiting those centers will be taking a risk, when they return to South Carolina. But I expect they won't bother people much. It's really us they want to get rid of.”

Marianne realized that it was likely that her nightmare scenario would become true. Eventually, they would be forced out of the United States. There wasn't much that she could do about it. States that passed anti-galactic laws would be prevented from re-starting industries that were harmful to the environment, and they would be prevented from going back entirely to how things used to be. She didn't know how much they realized this. And criminalizing Galactic aid would simply make people impoverished. The US would become like a third world country, with an economy in shambles, no health care, and millions upon millions of people unemployed and hungry. But she knew that Silandra and Erit'ala would never agree to more forceful intervention.

“Well, I have to go to the White House to speak with some folks about this situation. Thank you so much, Laura, for filling me in. Let me know if there are things we can help with up on the moon.”

Laura nodded. “Actually I hope to make a visit in a week or two. Joel invited me up to have a long talk. I think we need it.”

Marianne smiled. She always thought that Joel and Laura made a good pair, but she was pretty angry with Joel when he skipped out on them. But he seemed to have more than made up for that early mistake.

“Farewell blessings, Laura.” Marianne and Laura embraced in a clasped-arm hug.

“Farewell blessings.”

Marianne got up, went out of Laura's office, and rode down to the ground floor, where she got out of the building. Her flyer was waiting outside. She got in, and Re'wl asked, “Ready for the White House?”

Marianne smiled. “Yes, Re'wl, let's go.” The flyer rose up, and flew straight south, toward Washington DC. She imagined the meeting with the White House chief of staff would be a doozey.

Moon Station, 126 Musb, 780

Erit'ala's AI spoke softly. “There is a message from Galactic central that just arrived.” Erit'ala had been waiting for this message. Messages from other star systems had to be carried by ships through the wormholes, and were then transmitted from the large station by laser to the moon.

“Display, thank you.”

The message was straightforward. The Sejo did, in fact, consider the solution of moving intransigent humans to another planet to be preferable to other avenues. Other solutions seemed to jeopardize the safety and quality of life of the parn's. There was a planet that they considered perfect, although a bit on the warm side, and rather large, that was available for colonization by humans. Research suggested that not only were most of the plant and animal species on this planet compatible with human biochemistry, but that the land would likely support many Earth plant and animal species. There were a large number of colony ships that had been in storage for hundreds of years, last used to move a large population of F'zziliard, a banned species, out of a system that had a population of a particularly peaceful and passive species. Those who knew about these sorts of things thought that it would take approximately six Earth months to take those ships out of storage, prepare them for humans, and get them to Earth. They thought that the whole group of one thousand colony ships would hold close to 100 million humans. It was always possible for the colony ships to do multiple trips.

Erit'ala, however, did not like this solution. She wanted to find a way to let the humans of Earth determine for themselves how to live, within the constraints that the Galactics had set. She thought that perhaps it would take a few generations, but eventually, Earth humans would come to appreciate the Galactic community of which they were a part.

But she felt it was good that this option existed. She would wait some time, however, before telling them to send the colony ships through the wormhole to Earth.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Earth, October 30, 2012

“The polling numbers don't look good, Gerard. I'm just being honest. With only one week to go in the election, and with the double-digit lead in most states that the Democratic candidate has on you, it's just not likely that you can pull this off.”

Gerard was angry at his pollster. Didn't she ask the right questions? Ask the right people? “I'm sorry, but I just don't believe that. I've talked to people all over, and they are so against the aliens. There must be something wrong in your numbers!”

“Gerard, it's not just my numbers. It’s also CNN, The New York Times, Fox, even, has you from 50 to 80 electoral votes behind the Democratic candidate. I'm sorry, Gerard.”

“Get out! Get out of here. I'm not going to lose, and I don't want to hear what you have to say!”

The pollster was startled, and gathered up her papers, and ran out of the room. Angela came quickly in to the office. “Gerard, are you OK?”

“I'm not going to lose, Angela, I refuse to lose. Please get Justin in here, will you?”

Angela looked at Gerard in a way he thought might be a bit worried, then turned and left. He needed to talk with Thomas Martin. He figured that there was a lot Thomas could do to turn this around. Justin came in, after a few minutes.

“Hi Justin, I need to set up an in-person meeting with Thomas. I'll fly down to South Carolina, if necessary.”

“OK, Mr. Hopkinson, I'll set it up, and arrange scheduling with Angela.”

“It needs to be very soon, like tomorrow, or at worst, Friday.”

Justin nodded. “I understand, sir, I'll make it happen.” Justin left the room, and Gerard was alone. He didn't want to give into the fear that he would lose. If he lost, all was lost. Yes, four more states had passed the anti-alien bills. The FLG was getting stronger, and opposition to the aliens was getting stronger in other places in the world. But they needed the US military, he was convinced.

After a few minutes, Justin came back. “Sir, we can fly to Columbia tomorrow morning, and meet with Mr. Martin at 10:00 AM.”

Gerard nodded. “Thank you Justin.”

Angela came into the office. “Gerard, we don't need a new trip to South Carolina.

“I need to meet with Thomas Martin, Angela, it's important. He can save this election for me.”

“Gerard, we need to stump in California and New York. We only have a few days left, and wasting a day in South...”

“It will not be wasting a day! You don't understand! You never did understand, did you?”

Angela looked shocked. “Gerard...”

Gerard's voice moderated. “Angela, please just trust me. I need to talk with Thomas.”

Angela backed down. “OK, but we'll be flying up to New York by noon tomorrow.”

Gerard nodded. He would have enough time. Thomas would make sure he won.

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, October 31, 2012

Thomas watched Gerard leave his office, and shook his head. There had been no way to promise Gerard a way to save the election. He knew it was lost. He'd thought that they could tap into the fears and uncertainties that people in the US had. It turned out, that passing those bills criminalizing the aliens had worked against them. People liked getting free education, and more leisure time. People seemed to like... gardening, and all of that silly new public art work that the aliens had promoted. People seemed to be taking to the alien culture. Thomas shuddered. Well, they would not win the election, but they had a Plan B. And he decided that Plan B should go into effect as soon as possible after the election was clearly lost by Gerard.

The good thing was that he got Gerard to promise his voice and aid for Plan B. Gerard would be the rallying point for all of the opposition, as it gathered force across the country and around the world. Thomas had confidence in Gerard as a leader, and Gerard seemed to realize that he could do something that, in the end, would mean more than being President. Gerard would be an emperor of a new Earth, the Earth united against aliens, and without aliens. If they had to fight those who supported the aliens, they would.

Chapter 17: Election Night

Moon Station, 136 Musb, 780/November 6, 2012

Marianne had decided that the certain election loss by Gerard would be a great way to introduce the Casitians to an old-fashioned Earth party. She had gotten a bunch of varied alcoholic beverages up from Earth, got the AI’s to load up on great Earth music, and set up the large common dining room with all sorts of decorations. A large screen on one end of the room showed the election results. They were going to have a blast.

She had been surprised to learn from Ja'el early on that Casitians didn't have the equivalent of alcohol. There were a number of plants on Casiti that were soporific, euphoric, or hallucinogenic, and they used those on occasion, but no one had managed to invent alcohol. Some Casitians had sampled alcohol, and some liked it and some didn't. She figured that she'd give them the widest array possible, from beer and wine, to varied mixed drinks and liquors, and see what they thought. Gerard's loss to the very pro-Galactic Democratic candidate would be a good reason to celebrate.

She walked into the common dining room, and the party had clearly already started. Most of the larger team from more than a year ago had come up for the party. They had been working hard over the past months. She saw Laura and Joel dancing in one corner, looking very much in love with each other. Marianne was glad that particular story had turned out well. She saw Kyla, and Gita and her whole family. She waved to Sunam, who had come with his family. This was an international affair. The polls on the East Coast were just closing, and they had already called all of the New England states for the Democrat. They had also called the states of South Carolina, Georgia and Mississippi for Gerard. No surprises there, although what was a surprise was how narrow the margins were. The Democrat almost won South Carolina. New York and New Jersey were heavily in the Democrat's favor, but not enough precincts were reporting in, so they hadn't called it. The same was true for Pennsylvania and Florida. This looked to be a rout. She had seen an electoral map a couple of days ago. The only states that Gerard was likely to get were all of the states of the south, except Florida, and North and South Dakota, Utah, Indiana, maybe Colorado and Arizona. Not California, not New York, not Florida, not Ohio. There was no way he could win.

She joined the party and had a beer, and walked around talking with people, feeling happy. She thought, this is going to be the end of it, finally. Gerard loses, the opposition loses its force, it all works out. She had been foolish to worry about it, and foolish to suggest the idea of getting people off of Earth. Over the past month, things had been quiet. No more attempted bombings of centers, not much activity in countries overseas. She had overreacted. Already, voter rebellion in the states that had passed the anti-Galactic bills were likely to precipitate new administrations in those states, which would reverse the bills.

As they partied, slowly, but surely, Gerard lost states. The very instant that the polls closed on the West Coast, every single news outlet, even Fox News, called the election for the Democrat. Gerard had lost, and lost decisively. Marianne was elated at this final news. She hung around the party for a while, as many did, waiting for Gerard's concession, but it didn't come. She wasn't so interested in waiting around anymore. She sidled up to Ja'el and whispered, “I'd really like to get out of here. What do you think?”

Ja'el turned toward her and smiled. “Yes, I think we can find better things to do than wait for Gerard.” They said their farewell blessings on the way out, and went back to their quarters.

They had told the AI to not disturb them “unless very urgent,” so it was a surprise, a few hours later, to be interrupted by an insistent, loud chime from the AI.

“What is it?” Marianne was annoyed.

“Silandra is calling a joining. She feels that it is an emergency.”

“An emergency? What happened?”

“Would you like a run down of all of the events of the past three hours?”

Marianne groaned. “No, no, when is the joining?”

“In one tenth hour.” Marianne always needed to do a translation to Earth time. 24 minutes until the meeting. Time enough for a shower.

Ja'el and Marianne arrived in the joining room, where Silandra, Henry and Jur'tic were sitting already. In very short order, Joel, Laura, and Erit'ala came into the room.

Silandra stood up. “I'm sorry to interrupt your festivities and relaxation, but some things have happened that are quite disturbing. First, I need you to hear Gerard's 'concession' speech.”

She turned toward the display, and a scene of Gerard in a hotel ballroom appeared.

“I want to thank you all for the hard work that you did. We may have lost this election, but we have not really begun the war against the aliens. We will fight, tooth and nail, to get them off of our planet.” The speech kept going in the same vein. It was not so surprising. Marianne didn't really think much of his blustering. What could he do?

The speech continued, “Join with me. We will fight the aliens. We will win against the aliens. You will hear more about how this will happen. We will win, and kick them back to the cold planet they came from.”

“This is a little unexpected, but what can he really do? It seems to me that he is in a position to bluster and bluff, but not actually take any actions.” Marianne said.

Silandra spoke softly to her AI. “Display, thanks, the news story that followed the speech.”

An anchor of CNN was reporting, “Apparently, just minutes after the concession speech by Gerard Hopkinson, hundreds of armed, uniformed men have shown up at most of the Galactic aid centers in the country, and shut them down. This is also apparently happening in many countries overseas.”

Silandra said, “We had detected this activity beforehand, and since the centers were closed, there was no danger to the staff. We decided to let this happen. We are afraid, however, about what will happen in a few hours on the East Coast, when morning comes, and people try and go to the aid centers. But there is more. Display, thanks, the next story.”

Another anchor, speaking somewhat hurriedly, and seeming worried. “It seems that a number of churches and mosques around the world are becoming gathering points for people in opposition to the Casitians. We're not clear what's happening at those sites at the present time.” He paused, and touched his ear plug, then looked up.

“We hear that there will be a press conference first thing tomorrow morning in Columbia, South Carolina, with members of FLG, as well as some religious leaders. We'll keep you posted.” The display went blank.

Silandra continued. “We have detected a wide variety of activities, all over the world. Firearms are being distributed, people are gathering. It looks like this is coordinated, and has been planned out quite far in advance. Finally, some of the patterns I'd been noticing over the past weeks are making sense. I wish I'd seen this more clearly.”

Marianne shook her head. “Silandra, this surprises all of us, I think. I had hoped that this wouldn't happen, that...”

Joel cut in, “Marianne, you were always too optimistic. I told you how serious these people were. This actually doesn't surprise me in the least. I don't think there is anything we can do to stop them.”

“Joel, I know, I realize now I was being optimistic, much too optimistic. Silandra, what can we do?”

Erit'ala and I have decided that we will release the nanobots that will prevent the use of any projectile weapons. We also will be activating sleep defenses where it seems that conflicts are going to start.”

“That's a good start, but there must be something else.”

“Marianne, we think that you should hold a press conference tomorrow, to answer any questions and respond to what has been said by Gerard and others. You have been almost invisible for the past couple of months, and we think it is time for you to make yourself known again.”

“I think I should do that press conference together with the President, and President elect. I think that would have the most impact. I'll try to arrange that.”

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, November 7, 2012

Gerard and Thomas were about to enter the room with all of the reporters, along with Jason B. Modes, and the governor of South Carolina, who was about to declare the November election moot, and take his state out of the United States, joining the Federation of Free States, or FFS. Seven other governors were poised to do exactly the same, and together, they had chosen Gerard to be the President of the FFS. Columbia, South Carolina would be the new capital of the new country. And this new country would form the nexus of opposition to the aliens. It was a bold plan, a plan that Thomas had set up months ago, and it made sense. He expected that at least twenty states would eventually secede, creating a strong opposition.

They entered the room one after the other, and sat at the long head table along with Reverend Modes and the Governor. The press were clearly jumping all over themselves to ask questions.

Gerard got up, and read a prepared statement.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are prepared to do all that we can to fight the aliens. We have concluded that the best way to go about this would be to become independent of the United States government. Thus, today, South Carolina is a free state, a state of the Federation of Free States. I have been asked to serve as the President of this new Federation of states. Other governors are now poised to join with us, and we will become a strong new nation, bound and determined to eliminate the alien threat from the world.” He ended his speech, and the room erupted in shouted questions from the press. The questions were all expected: why, how would they be governed, what would happen to the aid centers. They had planned out the answers to all of these questions very carefully. But then, a question came from a reporter that surprised Gerard.

“We have reports that all projectile and explosive weapons, which include guns, bombs, rockets, and missiles, have been deactivated. They just don't work. In addition, we've heard of several incidents of conflict where, without explanation, everyone within a radius of about a mile just falls asleep for several minutes, and then they wake up, forgetful of why they were there, and go home. Do you have any comments about this?”

Gerard was stunned, and completely taken aback. He turned toward Thomas, who had become quite pale. He turned back, “I haven't heard these reports, and I would have to assess whether or not they were valid. In any event, we can find ways around any technology that the aliens have. We are resourceful, we can win.”

Gerard realized he had to end the press conference immediately. He had to find out more and, he couldn't have the press asking him any questions along those lines. If what the reporter said was true, that would radically change what they could do. It scared him.

They all got up and walked out, without much warning. The press yelled and shouted after them, but they did not pay attention. On the way out, Thomas hissed, “That reporter was lying, it's not possible.” Gerard wasn't so sure.

Washington, DC, Earth, November 7, 2012

The press were far more deferential toward Marianne and the President and President Elect. Marianne got a question about whether or not those reports of inactivated weapons and sleep defenses were real. She acknowledged them.

“The Casitians, as you know, have no weapons. However, they do have technology that can be used in defense. They are completely committed to having no one hurt or killed in any kind of anti-Casitian/pro-Casitian conflict that Earth humans might have. They have implemented a number of defensive technologies, including nanobots that deactivate all explosive and projectile weapons, nanobots that deactivate all chemical and biological weapons, and sleep defenses that are automatically activated in a conflict situation.”

A reporter stood up. “So, Mr. President, you are going to depend on Galactic technology to defend people from the FLG and secessionists?”

“Well, honestly, the Casitians can do a much better job than we can. And if they have deactivated all weapons, there isn't much we could do in any event. We've sent some national guard to guard the aid centers that were not taken over, and we will stand by to move into areas where we can be in a position to provide protection. But I think, honestly, the Casitians are best at this.”

More questions came at them, and they answered them in turn. Marianne felt like a broken record. She said, “We will make sure that no one is hurt” over and over again. She wondered, though, whether they could actually follow through that promise.

Vatican City, Earth, November 9, 2012

Augusto had finally been stretched beyond his ethical bounds. He could not find a clear way to align himself with the likes of Reverend Modes and Gerard Hopkinson, and still feel he was doing God's will. He thought back to that conversation he had with the Galactic contemplative, Jal'end'a. He had truly liked her, and their discussion had been wide ranging and deeply theological. He had learned a lot about Casitians then, and he could no longer agree to continue this present course.

He had gathered his closest associates and cardinals, and had told them that he was making a statement to the world, to welcome the Casitians. He was completely distancing the papacy from the anti-Casitian movement. They had all agreed, and encouraged him to include something about limiting the influence of the Casitians for the good of Earth, which he did. He did still feel that the Galactic moral influence was problematic.

He wrote his encyclical, which was short and to the point. He denounced the actions of anti-Galactic groups all over the world. He welcomed the Casitians, and he expressed a wish for a peaceful reunion and gentle coexistence. He put his weight behind the UN, he wished the best for the dolphins, and, finally, he wished for a minimization of Casitian cultural influence because of what he described as immoral cultural practices.

He felt it set the right tone. He asked Catholics to play nice, but stay Catholics. And he made it clear that the single largest group of people of the Christian faith had decided to peacefully coexist with the Galactic Community.

Moon Station, 140 Musb, 780/November 21, 2012

After two weeks, it was clear that the whole situation had gotten completely out of their control. Since the FLG and others couldn't shoot anyone, or gather in groups, they would harass people individually, with knives and clubs. Anyone who had gotten aid from the Galactics, or was known to be sympathetic, was a target. Anyone who didn't agree to join them was harassed. A number of people had been stabbed or clubbed to death. It was impossible for the Casitians to keep track of everyone, everywhere. They had taken to giving sleep defenses to people who volunteered to patrol their neighborhoods and protect people. It helped, but didn't do enough to stop the violence. Everyone was afraid, and many were hiding in their homes, or moving north or west. The number of refugees from the FFS was increasing. And the harassment wasn't limited to the FFS. There were harassments everywhere, all over the world, in many countries and cities. It was clear that the FLG tactic was to simply scare people into agreeing with them about the Casitians. It was largely not working, but it created a climate of fear and uncertainty.

Marianne, Joel, Ja'el, Silandra, and Erit'ala were in a joining. Marianne spoke. “We have to end this, Silandra. There is just no way that this will end well, as long as these people continue to be able to do this. And honestly, we can't stop them.”

Silandra said, “Yes, indeed, it does have to end. I spoke with Ur'lef last day. The parn's have been disturbed by the energetic patterns they are picking up from the humans. They explained to Ur'lef that the current situation was not acceptable to them, that it must change.”

Marianne's mouth was wide open. She was completely taken by surprise by this. She had no idea the dolphins had that sort of ability. And no idea that they would demand something of this sort from them.

Marianne said, “So we really have no choice, do we?”

Silandra shook her head. “But the question is, how do we get them to agree?”

Marianne said, “I think we just tell them what we can offer them, and see what they say. We can explain that we have a number of plans in place to cut off food, water and energy going to the FFS states and to the countries that have opposed us, and any to cities that are presently in the hands of our opposition. We can tell them that will be permanent. They know there is no way they can survive under those conditions. Giving them their own planet would seem, I think, to be the best option for them. I think they might even see that.”

Silandra asked, “So how do we offer this to them? Have a joining with them?”

“Yes, I think that's what we do. Tell them to gather anyone they would like at a meeting, and we'll be there. Tell them we have something to offer them.”

“I sent a message to Galactic central to send the colony ships through the wormhole. They should arrive at the station in a few days. Luckily, the space docks where they were stored are close to that system’s wormhole. They will be at Earth within twenty days.”

Joel, who had been quiet, spoke up. “What if they don't agree? What if they completely refuse?”

Silandra sighed. “We will have no choice but to force them. It won't be easy or fast, but it is possible. We can do it.”

“But why weren't you willing to do that sort of thing earlier?” Joel was clearly both angry and perplexed.

“Because the parn's did not ask us, and we would have preferred a solution that preserved Earth human autonomy. But, in the end, this is the parn's planet, not ours, and not yours. They are the final authority. They are asking us to do this now, and so we must.”

Marianne nodded. “I'll try and set up a meeting. We'll see how this goes.”

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, November 30, 2012

Marianne, David, and Joel were in the flyer, piloted by Re'wl. They were flying to Columbia, South Carolina, where they would meet with Gerard, Thomas Martin, and others, including an Imam from Iran. They had no idea how this meeting would go. Marianne was pretty nervous. They were carrying sleep defenses, and other precautions had been taken, although Marianne didn't think that they would try anything. She looked down, and the city came into view. As they flew low over the city, they saw abandoned and gutted buildings and people in the streets, picking over garbage. There was debris strewn everywhere. Marianne knew that many people had fled South Carolina for other places such as Florida and North Carolina and other states, because people couldn't stand the harassment and lack of resources.

They flew over the statehouse, and landed on the lawn in front. A number of people came from out of the statehouse toward the flyer. They looked like staff. Marianne, David, and Joel left the flyer, and walked toward them.

Joel said under his breath, “That is Angela, who was Gerard's campaign manager, and the kid is Justin, who works for Thomas Martin.” Marianne nodded.

Angela said, “Hello Marianne. I'm Angela Johnson, Gerard's chief of staff. Welcome to the capital of the FFS.”

Marianne looked at Angela, and said “Thank you. Please direct us to the meeting.”

Angela nodded and said, “Please follow me.”

They walked up the stairs and into the statehouse. They went down a long corridor, and arrived at a set of double doors. Justin opened the doors, and waved them inside. Neither he nor Angela followed them into the room. Justin closed the door behind them.

Marianne looked at the men assembled in the room. She recognized almost all of them. There was the Reverend Modes, Thomas Martin, Gerard, and a man whom she recognized as the Imam from Iran, with an unknown man next to him. She assumed that man was his translator. She looked carefully at Gerard, who seemed to be frightened. She had brought David completely on purpose, but she hadn't quite expected this reaction from Gerard. He seemed petrified.

“Hello gentlemen. This meeting, I hope, will be short and sweet. I bring an offer from the Galactic Community.”

Jason Modes stood up. “An offer? What kind of offer? There is nothing we need or want from the Galactics. We are solving our problems ourselves.”

Marianne laughed. “Oh, really? People are starving in the FFS and there is virtually no energy. People are leaving FFS states in droves. You won't have much left.”

The Imam started speaking, and his translator said, “The United States is unfortunately undergoing some problems. But there are many places in the world where opposition to the aliens is strong.”

Marianne sighed. “Look, let me just make this clear, before you all start telling me what it is you can do. This is the offer. There is a very nice planet, uninhabited by any intelligent species, that the Galactic Community is offering to the anti-Galactic population of Earth. This includes anyone anywhere in the world who doesn’t like it that Earth has become a member of the Galactic Community. We have a large fleet of colony ships waiting to take people to a planet that is twice the size of Earth. You can do whatever you want on that planet, the Galactics will not intervene in any way.”

Thomas spoke, “And why would we accept that? What's in it for us?”

“A whole new wonderful planet to colonize as you wish. Plenty of room, plenty of food. You can do what you want, and you'll never be visited by the Casitians, or by any member of the Galactic Community, if you don't want them.”

“Why would the Galactics do that?”

“Because, frankly, the dolphins, want you off the Earth.”

Jason Modes stood, red faced. “This is the planet that God gave us. God created this planet for human beings to live on, to be in dominion over. This is our planet, no other. Those fish are not going to force us off of our home planet.”

Marianne looked Modes in the eye, and decided it was time to play all of the cards. “Reverend Modes, God is not calling the shots right now. The dolphins, and the Galactic community on behalf of the dolphins, are in control here. If you don't go willingly, you will be forced to go. You basically have no choice. Forcing you to go is not something the Casitians like to think about. But the dolphins have made it clear. This conflict must end. As they say, harmony and quiet must finally be present on Earth, now that they have a say in the matter. Apparently they are getting tired, or perhaps bored, with Earth human conflict. They have been living with it for a long time.”

“And how would they force us? We can stop them!” Modes was still red-faced.

“And how much luck have you had stopping them so far, eh?” Joel seemed to be toying with Modes, who got even more red in the face, if that were possible.

Spittle started to come out of his mouth as he said, “How dare you! You traitor to your country!”

“OK, please, everyone calm down. Look, I've put the offer on the table. You have 72 hours to decide. If you don't simply agree within that time frame, the Casitians will begin putting in place the processes necessary to gather up anti-Galactic individuals and put them on the colony ships.”

The Imam started speaking again. “How much geographic space would Muslims get?”

Marianne shrugged, and thought fast. “The planet is rather large, and would be divided up proportionately by population. I imagine that it would be divided up by original country, and population.”

The Imam smiled. “How much bigger than Earth is it? What kind of planet is it?”

Modes interrupted. “It doesn't matter, we won't ...”

The Imam rose, and shouted in Arabic. His translator spoke quietly, “If we wish to go to this planet, we will go. That is not up to you to decide.” He turned to Marianne and spoke. The translator said, “Please, continue.”

Marianne took out the flash chips that she had prepared for them. “This has all of the information you want on the planet. The planet has a diameter that is approximately twice that of Earth, which means that the surface area of the planet is much larger. Further, Earth’s surface, as you know, is 70% water. This planet is mostly land. Only about 30% of the surface area of the planet is water, and all of that is fresh. The planet is a mix of rainforests, arboreal forests, mountains, and prairie. There are no deserts. I would bet that Iran, for instance, would get the equivalent of ten times the amount of land that it presently has. The planet is abundant in all sorts of things that you would need to create a successful society of any type.”

She handed the Imam a chip, which he took eagerly. She held out the other chips to Thomas, Gerard and Modes, but they did not reach for them. She put them on the table in front of them. She had a suspicion that the Imam, and his followers, would agree to go. She imagined that Erit'ala and Silandra might even be willing to give them a few extra incentives. She looked over at Thomas Martin and Modes. They, she thought, weren't going to budge. Then she looked at Gerard. He was staring rather obviously at David. He had a look on his face that was unreadable. David said nothing.

Marianne broke the tension. “Look at the information on the chips. It's really a nice planet, and you are getting an incredible break here. Just go for it. I don't think you want to go through the process that the Casitians will have to implement in order to force you on those colony ships. And they will, I guarantee it.

We are going to webcast and broadcast this offer to everyone, everywhere, after your 72 hours are up, so that your followers can make up their own minds, if you don't go along with this. As you know, that might put your leadership at great risk. That's something to think about, isn't it?”

Gerard seemed to come alive at that moment. He leaned forward and grabbed one of the chips. Modes looked at him sharply. Thomas Martin said to him, “Gerard, we can't agree to this. We will not leave Earth.”

Gerard looked back at him. “I don't think we'll have a choice. Listen to what she says about all of that land. People would like it, and we can create a society without any Galactic interference at all.”

Chapter 18: Decisions

Sol Station, 12 Klef, 3146

H'terinon stood, looking out of the observation deck, toward the wormhole. He knew that the colony ships would be coming any minute now. The wormhole was far enough away that he wouldn't see the ships for a couple of hours, but he looked in that direction anyway, knowing that they were on their way.

It had been a good thing that they'd been able to finish the Keeelo decks before all of this chaos was about to descend on them. The Caraj had finally allowed the Sejo to bring more staff here, including some very industrious Twaddlego. H'terinon loved the Twaddlego. They were a short, squat humanoid species, very intelligent, amazing at engineering, and very industrious. They had a spirituality that was hard for H'terinon to grasp, but in his talks with Tywo76, he was learning. A contingent of Twaddlego were sent here to facilitate the completion of both the Keeelo and parn’ decks. And just in time. Everything was in place, and the large contingent of Keeelo had arrived only 10 days ago.

H'terinon was not looking forward to the thousand colony ships docking here. The station was well able to handle a thousand ships—in fact, it was designed to handle several thousand at any one time. This was the true test as to whether all of the systems H'terinon had put in place were going to work, since they would now have more ships than had ever docked since construction began. Each colony ship had a crew of five hundred, of varied species. Mostly Topli, Twaddlego and Krumptia. Topli were the species that were the best navigators in the galaxy. They built most of the ships in the galaxy, and were always in demand. They also ran the premier astrogation and piloting school in the galaxy. The Krumptia were adept at management and bureaucracy. Casitians found the Krumptia to be annoying, largely because of their need for hierarchy, but from what he knew, H'terinon figured the Terrans wouldn't mind them so much. The station would be inundated with half a million beings of different species, all at once. Luckily, they would only be staying a few days, then they would be off to Earth.

It was also time for H'terinon to take more of a management role, like that of a Krumptia. He didn't like that much. Luckily, he only needed to fill that role for a short time. A Krumptia would be taking his place, once the station was put into standard operating mode. H'terinon's specialty was getting stations up and running. Running them long term was something he had no interest in. He thought it was getting near time for him to request his replacement. Once the colony ships had finished all of their necessary runs, and things were settled down, it would be time for him to leave.

New York, New York, Earth, December 1, 2012

Marianne had decided to spend the 72 Earth hours waiting for the answer from the anti-Casitians on Earth. She was in NYC, staying with Diana, whom she hadn't seen in a while. She hadn't realized how badly things had deteriorated in the US. It was sad.

She'd recently visited Geneva, Beijing, and Kampala, which were cities that were greening, bustling, and happy. Visiting NYC was troubling. All of the US was suffering from the decisions of the FFS. There were disruptions in food and fuel supplies, and there were refugees everywhere. There were a lot of Galactic agents and aid centers, and they were doing their best, but the situation was unstable and deteriorating.

Diana and Marianne were sitting in front of Diana's video panel, watching CNN's webcast. It had only been a day since Marianne, David, and Joel had delivered the ultimatum. She had decided to keep the whole thing very close to her vest. Everyone in the original team knew what was happening, but they had told neither the larger team, nor the UN, nor the White House. Marianne had realized that a press leak about this could lead to disaster.

A commercial for a new Galactic device was cut off in the middle, and a harried news anchor appeared. “We have just learned from Al Jazeera News, that Imam al Kalyani has made a statement to his people in Iran, and Muslims worldwide. We are going to play this statement in its entirety, then come back. We are gathering some experts who can talk about what this all means. It's staggering.”

The screen went momentarily blank, and the familiar form of the Imam appeared. He started to speak, and then the translator began.

“Asalaam alaikum. Greetings to all in Iran, and the world. The Galactic community has made an offer that we will not refuse. They have offered us resettlement on a beautiful planet that is much larger than Earth, with plenty of food, and water, and space. They have offered to let us live there completely free of Galactic influence. We have decided that we will create a new Iran, and we invite all of those in the Muslim world to create a new Islamic world with us.”

Marianne groaned. “Oh, no, now I have to make it clear that they don't get the whole planet!”

Diana said, “That was quite brilliant of him. He knows you won't give him the whole planet, but he's put you in a tough position, and will likely get more out of you than he would if he hadn't said that.”

Marianne nodded. “I should have thought of that.”

Diana smiled. “Well, you are thinking more and more like a Casitian these days, it's no wonder.”

They continued to watch the statement, and the coverage and analysis of it. Marianne made some phone calls, first to the White House and UN officials, to calm them down and explain. Then, to get interviews on some major programs, to clarify what the offer was. They were eager to have her speak. She called K'flef, and told him she'd have some trips to make over the next hour or two. He said he'd be in DC within the quarter hour.

While she was waiting for K'flef, a news anchor said, “We now have a report that Gerard Hopkinson got a similar offer from the Casitians of land on that planet, and he will lead as many Americans who wish to follow him to that new, Galactic-free frontier. Rita Reid is reporting from South Carolina. Rita?”

Marianne was surprised to see Rita on CNN. She'd thought she'd been on Fox most recently. Marianne had never forgiven Rita for that terrible exposé which included an interview with Yolanda. She hadn't talked to Yolanda since that interview, because she really hadn't forgiven her, either.

“Hi Chuck, I'm here in Columbia, the capital of the FFS. Gerard Hopkinson, president of the FFS, has said that he will lead as many Americans as want to go to this new planet, to create a new United States, free from Galactic influence, with plenty of land to go around. He likened this to a new era of the frontier. There will be lots of space to grow and expand, and, as he put it, no 'Injuns.’”

“He didn't actually say that, did he?”

“Yes, Chuck, he did. I think he's trying to connect to the American frontier spirit, which he thinks still exists.”

“Thank you Rita. We now know that we will have an interview with Marianne Michaelson, a few hours from now.”

Marianne wondered about Reverend Modes and Thomas Martin. She had expected that Gerard was already leaning in this direction, and that the Imam's statement pulled the rug out from under Modes and Martin, so that Gerard won the argument.

K'flef signaled that he was arriving in NYC, so Marianne got up. “Diana, it was a great, but brief, visit. It will take me a while to get all of this straightened out. Hey, visit the moon sometime soon, OK? I've missed you.”

Diana smiled. They said farewell blessings, hugged, and Marianne went downstairs to catch K'flef.

Hol'venif, Casiti, 13 Klef, 3146

Hetz'lef had been keeping close tabs on the Earth situation. He worried about Silandra constantly, although he knew she would be fine—she was on the moon of Earth, after all. He had been amazed at the kinds of things that the Earth humans would do. It baffled him, frankly. What was happening on Earth was the talk of Casiti. You couldn't go anywhere where people weren't discussing it. Sometimes arguing about whether or not the Earth humans were really the same species. Which was an assertion everyone knew was ridiculous. But it didn't stop people from suggesting such a thing.

Hetz'lef thought that what most mystified the Casitians was the Earth penchant for violence, and for hating people who looked, or thought differently. Hetz'lef looked forward to a long conversation with Silandra, or perhaps Marianne, the woman that had become a companion of Silandra's student, Ja'el. He felt, for some reason, the need to understand these differences between the different branches of humankind. What was behind those differences? How could Earth humans become more like Casitians? Would they want to?

Hetz'lef had been very happy to be part of the first experiments in greenhouses growing Earth plants. They had done quite well growing a large number of Earth crops, including peas and beans, squash, potatoes, onions and all sorts of other root vegetables. Some crops—such as tomatoes, some herbs, bananas, and other more warm-weather crops—were complete failures. Hetz'lef and the others working on these experiments were fairly sure that there just wasn't enough light and heat coming from their star for those crops.

He had given a presentation of the results, and had accompanied that with a feast of all Earth foods. It was a total hit, and the number of people signed up for the next round of growth experiments, where they would try these crops in the Casitian soil, instead of in greenhouses, was staggering. People really liked the taste of the Earth crops.

It had also taken some time and work to adapt the Galactic agronomy technologies to the Earth crops, but the group felt that they had come most of the way, and that the second group would help to finalize how those procedures would work. They would be working harder that growing season, but many felt that the result would be completely worth it. Hetz'lef wished that everything coming from Earth would be as positive and trouble-free as the crops.

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, December 3, 2012

The interviews and the follow-up meetings at the UN and White House went very smoothly, although there were some noises about feeling insulted for not being in the loop. She let those pass. She then had been asked to go to Columbia, to discuss issues with Gerard. As she prepared to leave the flyer once they had landed in Columbia, she turned to K'flef and said in Casitian, “You have gone far beyond Kren'a in helping me, K'flef. Many blessings and thanks for your piloting.”

K'flef smiled. “I feel as if I am doing Pho'sia's work here, Marianne.”

Pho'sia was one of the manifestations of God that one particular school of Casitians worshipped. Pho'sia was a female aspect, one that was the holder of peace and wisdom.

“Yes, K'flef, I think you are correct. Blessed be Pho'sia.”

Marianne got up, and left the flyer, turning around to face K'flef briefly. “I should be back in about one half hour or so. I'll signal you if it will be much longer.”

K'flef grinned. “I brought a giv of Ul'tretor.” A giv was the Casitian equivalent of a very long biography. Ul'tretor had been one of the earliest Casitians, and had been responsible for the origin of much Casitian culture. She had learned that K'flef was a real fan of Ul'tretor. There were about a hundred givs of Ul'tretor, some better than others. Marianne wondered which giv K'flef had chosen to read. Someday soon she would read one.

“Enjoy.” She walked out of the flyer, into the cold winter of South Carolina.

Columbia, South Carolina, Earth, December 3, 2012

Gerard was pacing. He had been planning to come out first with an announcement, but that darned Imam beat him to it. He wanted to make sure that his 'New America' would get enough land, and prime land. Martin and Modes had left him, and he had no idea what they were planning, but it didn't matter. He knew that most people would agree to leave, and go to this new land. And he would lead “New America.”

The door opened, and Marianne walked in. “Hello Gerard.” She reached out her hand. Gerard hesitantly took it, and shook.

“Marianne, you know that I was quite concerned about the Imam's statement on Al Jazeera. He cannot create an Islamic world! We deserve at least one half of it!”

“Gerard, we will be as fair as possible. The land already has some natural boundaries. There are several groups of people wanting to settle on the new planet, plus hundreds of thousands of individuals. All of the land on this planet is prime. It's almost all arable, there is adequate water and food everywhere. There are no polar ice caps, and it is only 30% water, so there is an enormous amount of space for people to inhabit.

“The Casitians do not want to be in the position of making decisions about who goes where. So we have come up with a plan. A leader of every identifiable group will come to a conference that we are holding at the UN. At that conference, you all, with the help of the UN Secretary General, will hash out what pieces of land go to whom. The amount of land will be directly proportional to the population in your group. For you, that is the remaining population of the FFS.

“People who are not attached to any group will be settled in an independent zone, and they can find the land that they want as they land in the colony ships. There are hundreds of billions of acres of land on this planet, which means more than enough room for everyone. You really don't need to worry about this, Gerard.”

Gerard was reassured, but he still was troubled by the fact that there were so many other groups, and that he would be competing with them for space. But he knew that his group was the largest next to the Muslims, which made him happy.

“Well, I guess that all sounds reasonable. I'll be at the conference. I want you to know that Jason Modes has decided not to leave, and some of his followers are staying.”

Marianne shook her head. “No, Gerard, they are not staying. They will be forced to leave.”

“Well, good luck with that. They are holing up at a compound in Texas.”

“Thank you for that information Gerard. The conference will be in one week. Here is a list of things that you will have to have prepared by then, and other directions and instructions.” She handed him a flash chip, and looked at him. “Is there anything else, Gerard?”

Gerard smiled. “No Marianne, there isn't anything else. I want to thank you, and the Galactics, for this opportunity. It's the right choice, and I see that now.”

Marianne got up, shook Gerard's hand, and left the room. Gerard put the flash chip into his laptop, and opened up the list. It was a very long list. He needed to identify one representative for every 10,000 people. They didn't care how it was done, but it had to be done. And then, another representative for each 1,000 people, who would answer to that leader. There would be 100 groups of one thousand on each colony ship, and there was a lot to coordinate. Luckily, the trip to the planet was only a couple of weeks long. But there was food to produce and coordinate, determinations of what things people could, and could not, bring, how much they could bring, and how they would be gathered, and placed on the ships. Gerard started to think about who he should tap to start organizing all of this.

The ships could hold 100,000 people, and about one ton of cargo per person. It sounded like a lot, but then it wasn't so much if they were bringing things like horses and cows, or heavy equipment. It was clear that they would receive little, if any help or support from the Casitians. That wasn't what they wanted, anyway.

San Jose, California, Earth, December 15, 2012

Hassan and Joel sat at a café in San Jose, which was crowded at this time of day. San Jose, like all of the Bay Area, was mostly insulated from the chaos happening elsewhere in the US. Hassan Jammar was a radio astronomer like Joel, although he hadn't been involved in the SETI program. Hassan had been tapped by Joel to be on the larger liaison team.

“My father called. He has decided to follow his Imam to the new planet. I'm not happy about this.”

“I've been reading about the divisions in the Islamic world about this whole thing. It seems like conservative Muslims are mostly emigrating, and moderate or progressive ones are staying. It's actually pretty similar to what's happening in the Christian world.”

“But my father has been a moderate Muslim all of his life, even though he is very observant. I think that for him, the romance of living in a completely Muslim environment really appeals. His Imam has likewise been moderate. I'm worried that moderate Muslims will be drowned out in the new place. What's worse is that it's splitting my parents up. My mother refuses to go.”

“I can certainly understand her desire not to go.”

“She is bucking a trend, though. It seems that Muslim women are going with their husbands. I probably will never see my father again. All of the people emigrating there agree on no contact with any Galactic community civilization. That means no messages, no visits, nothing. I don't know whether they will open again, but it means a one way ticket to a black hole.”

Hassan looked disturbed, and Joel could understand. Joel wondered what kind of life people would have on this new world. No Galactic technology or contact to help them.

Joel said, “I'm sorry about your father, Hassan. I hope that you get to spend time with him before he leaves. On a different topic—what are you up to these days?”

“Ah, mostly spending time with the Galactic stellar databank, which is an amazing resource. I don't know where my career will take me. Somehow, the funding for our program at Stanford has been maintained, so I will have a job. And my tenure review is next year. It shouldn't be a problem. What have you been up to?”

“Not a whole lot. I've been living on the moon, which has been wonderful. I've been involved with emigration logistics, but that's coming to an end. All of the original team have been offered the opportunity to visit Galactic worlds, to tell the story of the Casitians’ arrival. Diana declined, she wants to stay on Earth and continue her work with the UN, strengthening the world government. Marianne also declined. She decided to move to Casiti with Ja'el. I expect she'll stay there. David, Laura, and I agreed, and we'll be traveling together, along with K'flef, who is David's new companion. We've been given this really cool ship, and we'll be traveling at least for the next Casitian year. I don't know what will happen after that.

Hassan looked surprised. “I'd heard that all requests of Earth humans to move to Casiti were being denied. I had toyed with it until I heard that.”

Joel nodded. “All of them except Marianne. I don't think they would deny her anything. But I have heard that will be relaxed in the future, so it's not permanent. They are quite wary of the influence of Earth humans on Casiti. I am not so surprised about that.”

Moon Station, 40 Klef, 780/February 21, 2013

Silandra was looking at her AI's analyses of the preparations for the new Earth colony. The resourcefulness and cooperation that Earth humans had shown in this process was, for Silandra, a complete surprise. She felt that she was finally seeing more of a Casitian side to Earth humans. Once the land mass of the new planet had been equitably divided by the United Nations, different groups that were emigrating started cooperating with other groups, and they collaboratively planned how to bring equipment, animals, and food crops. All conflict, except for small pockets of anti-Galactics who were refusing to leave, had stopped. Earth humans who were not leaving were helping those who were leaving. Since the humans remaining on Earth would have the help and support of the Casitians, they were being surprisingly generous in giving planetary resources to those who were colonizing. In the US, 35% of the soldiers in the armed forces were interested in going to the new colony. Those who volunteered were being discharged so that they could provide logistics for “New America.”

The different analyses that Earth news organizations had were similarly fascinating. It seemed that a consensus was emerging among the humans that would stay. They hoped that the new colony would be created in such a way as to make the Earth humans proud of what the emigrants had accomplished.

Those emigrating, however, had a completely different consensus—one that was less surprising to Silandra. It was primarily one of complete self-interest, or, in the case of select groups, interest in the group welfare over all others. Silandra thought that all of this, the colony preparation and formation, as well as the next decade or so both on Earth and on the new planet, would be a subject for both Earth and Casitian researchers for a very long time.

Everything was smooth, and on schedule. There would be four waves of colony ships. The first wave, which would include half of the ships, would take the “New Americans.” The second wave would take most of the Islamic emigrants. The third wave, which would include most of the returning ships from the first two waves, would include the rest of the Islamic immigrants, and the many smaller groups and independent emigrants. The final wave, of just a few ships, would carry all of those that were being forced to leave, which included the twelve enclaves of fundamentalist Christians, about 95,000 in total led by Reverend Jason Modes, and a few other small enclaves of people.

Silandra had spent many, many hours over the past few months trying to understand Reverend Modes and the people who followed him. Patricia and Jal'end'a had helped, a little. She understood that their rigid belief system dictated that they would try their utmost to stay on Earth. But she didn't really understand their beliefs. Every time she read something about him, or heard him speak, she was completely flummoxed. She knew that his thinking wasn't logical, and that using logic to understand it wouldn't work. But she couldn't get her heart to understand it either.

They had gotten the help and support of the UN peacekeepers and the US National Guard, to gather those who were resisting. The plan was to put them all to sleep, and physically carry them and the contents of their compounds onto the colony ships. They would wake up on route to the new colony. The US was going to provide them with logistical help, food, water, and all of the necessary tools for survival on the new planet. But they were going to be at a major disadvantage compared to the others that had prepared.

Silandra and Marianne had actually argued about whether to put them with the “New Americans” or in a separate area. Silandra felt that all the anti-Galactics were pretty much all the same. Marianne argued that this group would severely undermine the ability of “New America” to get off of the ground without too much conflict. These folks needed to be on their own land. Silandra had finally agreed.

Chapter 19: Emigration

Moon Station, 110 Klef, 780/May 10, 2013

Marianne watched the first wave of ships leave from a display on the desk in her and Ja'el's quarters. Ja'el was in another part of their suite, reading some reports from the initial loading of the colonists. Marianne thought that the whole first wave had gone very smoothly. The second wave of ships were starting to load up, and would be leaving in about a week or so. The first wave ships would be back in about a month.

It all would be over in about three months. The most surprising change was the followers of Jason Modes. Just about all of them had decided, pretty much at the last minute, to join the “New Americans.” This hadn't made Marianne happy—she worried about their influence, but Gerard was happy to take them in, so they were added to the first wave. In the end, she expected that the few hundred left in the one enclave that Reverend Modes lived in would also leave him, and the UN peacekeepers might just have to carry only a few people onto the last ships. The other enclaves that had been holding out had similarly emptied, and joined one group or another of emigrants.

Marianne didn't really have a job to do anymore. The UN was becoming quite a strong government. People were adopting some Casitian customs, like the clasped-arm hug, different greetings, growing their own food, and other things. They were using Galactic technologies, listening to Casitian music, and doing public art. Some groups were going much more slowly than others. Marianne could tell that Earth culture was always going to remain different from Casitian culture. But the point had never been to make Earth into Casiti.

Interestingly enough, there were quite a number of Casitians that wanted to live on Earth. About five hundred had emigrated to Earth, mostly choosing to live in Europe and Asia. But some were living in some very unlikely places. Marianne wondered how they were doing, and what they would do as time went on. She'd heard that as many as five thousand Casitians might move to Earth.

Ur'lef had come back from a long stint with the parn's, and had expressed their relief at the huge changes in the energy of the planet. They were grateful for everything we had done. They were beginning to take their place as a Galactic species.

She thought about her future. She and Ja'el were moving to Casiti, and would arrive in the middle of winter. Ja'el had rights to a dwelling that they would share for the winter. But Marianne had no idea what she would do once she got to Casiti. She also knew, and Ja'el and she had discussed, that she and Ja'el would part perhaps not at the end of this winter, but certainly by the end of the next one. She didn't really like that idea, but she knew that was Ja'el's custom. Even so, she would have been with Ja'el longer than any other companion Ja'el had before. It was something that would take time for Marianne to get used to.

New York, New York, Earth, August 15, 2013

Diana was putting the finishing touches on the report about changes in agricultural practices in western Africa, when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hello, Diana, this is Doug Williams, at the emigration office. How are you today?”

“I'm fine, Doug. How can I help you?”

“Well, I need to talk with Marianne, if possible. Something rather odd is happening.”

“Something odd?”

“As you know, we were getting ready to wind down, since all four waves of emigration had been planned, and filled.”

“Yes, and?”

“As you know, the first wave of ships has been back for a few weeks. Apparently, several people came back from the planet, and have been publicizing it.”

“Yes, I've heard that.”

“The requests for emigration have gone from a small trickle each day, which we deal with fairly easily, to thousands a day.”

“Thousands?”

“Yes, thousands! We have received over 25,000 requests for emigration in the last four days, and the trend is upward.”

Diana wondered about this. Well, lots of land, people could spread out, something new. It wasn't too surprising.

“OK, Doug, I'll call Marianne, and get her in touch with you. I'm not sure what she'll say.”

“Thanks, Diana, I appreciate it.” She hung up the phone, then called Marianne's AI on the moon.

Moon Station, 40 Wend, 780/August 16, 2013

They sat in the joining room: Marianne, Silandra, and Erit'ala. Marianne said, “It seems that finding out how wonderful and big the planet is has made more people want to move.”

“But do they understand that they will be cut off from Galactic contact?” Silandra asked.

“Apparently they do, and they want to go anyway. There is plenty of free space. Most of the planet hasn't really been allocated.”

“About how many are we talking about?”

“It looks like about another 10 million, only 100 or so ships. We can easily add that to the fourth wave.”

Erit'ala said, “But we must publicize that they will be cut off from all Galactic contact.”

Marianne nodded. “I talked to Henry and Jur'tic—they are preparing a video, and getting it translated into many languages. Plus, we've told the emigration office to make that entirely clear. Everyone will know.”

Chapter 20: New Beginnings

New America, New Earth, November 12, 2013/Month 3, Year 1

Gerard looked around him, quite satisfied. Here were his leaders, his two hundred men, who were creating the New America. They listened to him, they trusted him. He was the leader of the new country. He listened to their reports, all of them favorable. This planet was a paradise. There were abundant edible plants and game and lots of fresh water. It did get hot, and there were some nasty biting insect-like things. But all in all, it was easy to survive here, and he thought they would thrive. They didn't need Galactic technology.

One particular man, Dennis, was a good leader. He had already put together a team of people to build the capital city. They were investigating the different kinds of trees, to determine how good they would be for building. They were all in pre-fabs and tents, and would be for quite some time. He admired Dennis. He was also quite handsome, and definitely Gerard's type. Gerard hoped sometime to figure out what Dennis' story really was.

The colony was going very well. Planned communities were forming, farmers were beginning the process of figuring out how to grow crops, and raise farm animals. Companies were forming and developing and finding markets. It was coming together in ways that made Gerard happy. The whole development process showed off his leadership skills. He could have been President of the United States, but President of New America was a lot better.

Independent Christian State, New America, New Earth, Month 3 Year 1

Yolanda walked out of the tent, and looked around. At least she could stand inside the tent. Poor Stanley was always stooped down. It was Sunday, and time for church. Her pastor and virtually all of the congregation had joined a large group of Christians forming a state within New America. Yolanda was glad that she had come. Her daughters, however, had not been so happy. Leticia had run away at the last minute, but she had been found by a friend. Neither daughter could understand why Yolanda and Stanley wanted to come to the new planet.

Of course, Marianne hadn't understood either, nor had their mother. But Yolanda was determined to raise her children in a place that was free from Casitian influence. She thought this was the best thing she could do for them, even if they didn't understand.

New America, New Earth, November 12, 2013/Month 3, Year 1

Rita had managed to snag one of the large pre-fab units, which were much more comfortable than the standard size. She was a minor celebrity here. She was one of the very few journalists to come to New America, and she'd been known for her anti-Casitian reporting. She was the only reporter for a new paper that her boyfriend, Frederick, had started here. She had bought a new laptop just before she had left, which was chock-full of Galactic advances. But she was really happy with it. It would help her reporting immensely, given the primitive nature of New America. It would take years, she suspected, for many of the things that they took for granted back on Earth to be available here. But she was willing to wait. And as one of the few journalists here, she would be going places.

New Aard, New Earth, Month 3, Year 1

Abdul Jammar thought briefly of his son Hassan back on Earth, and wished for a moment that he hadn't left. It was a regret that he could do nothing about. His decision had been irreversible, which he had known when he made it. He also missed his wife, but he was now glad that she hadn't come. Women were not being treated well here.

He heard the call to prayer, got up from his tent, and made his way to the makeshift mosque. His Imam, a moderate, had been replaced by a much more conservative Imam. This had happened all over the colony. The conservative Imams had made sure that their influence was strong. Abdul had yearned for a new way to live his Muslim faith, but he feared that he was only going to find the old ways. He hoped that someday he could find a way to make his dream happen.

Interstellar Transport, 120 Wend, 780

It was strange, finally leaving. Marianne had not been on Earth for weeks, and now she was leaving the solar system entirely. She was in a ship with a large contingent of Casitians, on their way home. The moon station was now populated primarily by Terrans, who had been trained by Casitians. Some Casitians remained on the moon for the time being, but eventually, most of the Casitians would go home. Silandra and Erit'ala, as well as Re'wl, Ur'lef, and many others, were on this ship.

She was sitting in the observation bubble, watching Earth and moon recede quickly from view. They were traveling amidst the last wave of colony ships bound for the new planet. She had never quite gotten an appreciation for how enormous they were until now, when she could see the bulk of her ship and compare the size. She never lost her amazement at Galactic technology.

She didn't know what Casiti would be like—except, of course, cold. Ja'el kept telling her she would get used to it, and that people spent the entire winter indoors anyway. She had a lot to learn about Casiti. She was looking forward to meeting Ja'el's family group, and her friends, and seeing more of Casitian art, and hearing Casitian music in person. She had become fluent in Casitian, and people to seemed always commend her on her great accent.

She found it almost impossible to believe that she was on the way to another star. She found it hard to believe all that had occurred since that single melodic “Hello” three years ago. But she had no choice but to believe, as she was watching her home fade into a canopy of stars.

###

About the Author

Michelle has been a science fiction fan since she could read. She has written and published poetry and technical writing. This is the first novel of a trilogy. Michelle lives and works in Oakland, CA.

Connect with me online

Twitter: http://twitter.com/pearlbear

Blog: http://murrain.net