Xenophobia (35 page)

Suddenly, the violent rumble of thunder broke around her. Bower found herself instinctively cringing beneath the breaking, raw power above in the darkness.

Was she right? Was this what they had endured? Were they playing out the same paternal acts that had once been forcibly imposed on them? Had their innocence been taken from them? On one hand, she wanted to ask, but deep down she felt these were questions she didn’t need answered. She felt she knew the answer.

In the darkness beyond the light, thunder rolled, staggering around her, giving her a sense of an immense void above. What did this mean? Had she said too much? She had to close this out, to solidify her argument.

“Of all the lessons we have learned, the greatest is what it means to have contact with another interstellar intelligence. You must give us time to learn from this.”

Bower paused, breathing deeply before presenting her final appeal.

“Your restraint is the only possible answer. To intervene would prove mankind was right to be afraid of you. To intervene is to admit reason has failed both species.”

Bower was exasperated. She didn’t know what more she could say.

The brilliant white light saturating the ground immediately around them vanished, plunging them into pitch black darkness as the thunder continued to rumble.

The ground beneath them shuddered and Bower dropped to her knees, feeling the warm sand beneath her hands.

“What’s going on?” she called out.

Elvis touched her arm, saying, “Don’t be afraid.”

She wanted to believe him, but words were cheap, meaningless. Bower was terrified. The ground beneath her pitched and tilted. Even though she was crouched on all fours, she lost her balance and fell sideways against Elvis in the darkness. He put his arm around her, holding her tight.

“It’s OK,” he said. “We’re going to be OK.”

How did he know that? Her rational mind demanded answers, reasons. He had no way of knowing they would be OK, and still the sandy ground shook beneath them. They were sinking. Bower could feel the sand shaking, enveloping her legs.

They dropped, plunging into the darkness. One moment, she felt as though she was sinking in quicksand, the next she seemed to be in free-fall. The sandy floor dropped away. She could still feel the sand beneath her fingers, but it no longer provided any substance. She felt detached from the ground, as though the cable in an elevator had snapped and she was plunging down a darkened shaft.

In the chaos of the moment, the only constant was Elvis. He never let her go, and she found herself clinging to him as she screamed.

Bower shut her eyes. They were useless in the darkness, but she shut them anyway, if only to mentally shut out what was happening to her. She had to hold on, to endure, to make it through the moment. Still the ground shook, and then as suddenly as it had begun, the tremors stopped. The sand seemed to surge beneath her before settling.

Bower could hear the sound of the ocean.

Waves lapped at the shore.

She opened her eyes, as did Elvis. They were kneeling on a beach at night. Moonlight lit up the shore. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Leaves rustled as the wind blew through shrubs on the edge of the beach.

“Where are we?” Elvis asked.

Bower had no answers.

Waves crashed, breaking on a distant reef. She could hear the sound of an engine in the lull between the rhythmic surge of the waves, a motorboat was racing toward them.

Elvis stood, helping her to her feet. She dusted the sand off her trousers.

“Hey,” Elvis said, staring up at the stars.

Above them, a floater rose into the air, returning to the mothership visible high above the stratosphere. Already, the floater’s tentacles looked distant. From what she could tell, the alien vessel had to be several thousand feet in the air and climbing fast.

She turned, looking around.

They were on an island. Tall palms stretched along a beautiful beach, curving away from them into the distance. The sand was pristine, as though no human had ever set foot in this paradise.

“There’s a ship,” Elvis said. “I think it’s the Lawrence.”

A calm lagoon opened out beside them. Beyond the lagoon, breakers crashed on the outer reef. Sitting on the horizon was the distinct dark silhouette of a warship. Two inflatable boats raced into the lagoon with flashing lights marking their position in the night.

“We’re home.” It was all Bower could bring herself to say. Physically, mentally and emotionally, she was exhausted.

“Everything’s going to be OK. We’re going to make it,” Elvis said, putting his arm around her.

Bower hoped he was right. She couldn’t help but feel this was the end.

Dr. Elizabeth Bower stood beside the United Nations building in front of a statue dedicated to the premise of peace on Earth. Seagulls floated on the breeze behind her, drifting above New York’s East River.

She couldn’t get use to reading from a teleprompter, but her producer said she looked natural. As she came to the end of her speech, Bower smiled graciously for the camera, watching as it panned to capture the freeze-frame action depicted by the statue.

How remarkable, she thought, looking up at the statue as the producer called, “Cut.”

She was standing before a bronze statue of a man beating a sword into a plowshare. The weather had long since rendered his muscular frame a pale green color, but his physique spoke of strength, discipline and determination. He stood mid-stride, his hammer raised high above his head, poised for another blow.

Was it irony, she wondered, that such a testimony could come from a communist country at the height of the Cold War? At that time, fingers on both sides had been poised over the mythical red button that could have destroyed civilization. Times had changed, but the message was the same: reason was mightier than the sword, strength could be a catalyst for peace.

Humanity was changing, but not because of any alien intervention, not out of fear, but out of a desire to grow up. Whatever that alien species was, regardless of where they originated, reason had convinced them mankind deserved a second-chance. Reason had given them hope.

Perhaps they’d seen statues like this one, Bower wondered. Perhaps they understood that, even in the darkest hour, reason shone as a beacon of light for humanity.

Dr. Ambar walked up to her. Bower hadn’t seen him for months.

“Liz,” he said warmly, shaking her outstretched hand with both of his hands. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” she replied, smiling.

She seemed to do a lot of smiling these days. Apparently that was part of the job description of UN ambassador to the stars. It was a figurative title. There was no real representation. There had not been any contact with the aliens since the mothership had left orbit barely an hour after Elvis and Bower found themselves on the northern beach of a small island off the coast of Madagascar.

The world was still obsessed with celebrities. A lot may have changed since the aliens came, but that particular fascination seemed only to have grown, and the UN Secretary-General had used Bower’s popularity to drive forward dialogue between nations. What her personal presence meant was somewhat lost on Bower as she didn’t see herself as overly important, but she was important to others. Change was in the wind. These days, she smiled so much her cheeks hurt.

“Can we talk?” Dr. Ambar asked.

“Yes,” Bower said, turning and walking away from the film crew as they packed up their equipment.

“Are you in touch with Elvis?”

“From time to time,” she said. “He’s been seconded by SETI as part of a global awareness campaign and spends even more time on the road than me. He’s so gregarious and outgoing. The NASA guys love him, especially when he strikes up an old Elvis Presley classic at the end of a rally.”

Dr. Ambar smiled.

“I’ve got something I’d like you to see,” He said, pulling a photograph from a plain manila folder and handing it to her.

Bower looked at the glossy sheet of paper in front of her as she walked along the path by the river. The image was grainy. A moon orbited Saturn, just outside one of the major rings.

“I don’t get it. What am I looking for?”

Dr. Ambar grinned, handing her another photo that showed the same image enlarged, but the resolution was so poor the enlargement was pointless.

“I thought NASA’s budget had been increased,” she said. “Surely you can afford digital photos on a tablet.”

“Ah,” Dr. Ambar replied, with a subtle tone in his voice that suggested he was uttering a secret. “These images are far too important. Even the digital versions are individually tracked.”

He was smiling like a kid in a candy store. Bower could see he expected her to notice something, but she thought the telescope lens needed cleaning.

“There,” he said, pointing at the picture as they paused.

“Is that ...”

“Yes.”

Bower stepped off the path, walking out of the shade of a tree to allow the sunlight to highlight the subtleties in the image.

“Are you sure about this?” Bower asked.

“Yes,” Dr. Ambar replied, walking beside her.

“But how? Why?” she asked, not sure which question she wanted answered first.

“It’s been six months,” he said.

“I don’t understand?” Bower replied. “I thought they left our solar system. We watched them go. We tracked them as far as Neptune.”

“We did,” Dr. Ambar agreed.

“So what does this mean?”

“Interesting you should ask,” he replied. “Given your experience with the aliens, we were hoping you might be able to provide some insight.”

Bower thought for a second.

“Which moon is this?”

“Enceladus. It’s an ice moon. We think there’s an ocean down there beneath the frozen surface.”

Dr. Ambar handed her some more photos, saying, “Their activity doesn’t match anything we saw when they first approached Earth. This mothership is in a highly eccentric orbit around Saturn, reaching out as far as the distant moon Titan, while never approaching closer than the orbit of Enceladus and the outer rings as she swings around the planet. The thing is, their free-fall is exquisitely timed so as to pass within a thousand miles of each of these moons on each of their orbits.”

“I don’t get it?” she said.

“They’re buzzing these two moons,” Dr. Ambar replied. “Titan orbits Saturn once every sixteen days. Enceladus orbits once every day and a half. The alien craft is, in effect, conducting a fly-by of Titan and Enceladus roughly once a week. It’s almost as though she were chasing them.”

Bower was silent, lost in thought.

“There hasn’t been any surface activity on Enceladus, at least none we can detect. Although they could have floaters on Titan and we wouldn’t know it. Whatever the case, they’ve been at this for a while, probably for a couple of months before we noticed them. As best we understand this, though, the alien activity around Saturn commence well after their encounter with Earth, and with a different mothership.”

“Are there any spacecraft that can take a closer look?” Bower asked.

“We’re trying to re-task Cassini. She went quiet several years ago, but if we can coax her back online we’ll get a better look. Personally, I don’t like our chances.”

Dr. Ambar examined one of the photos as he stood beside her, saying, “Can you think of any reason they’d be out there?”

“There’s only one thing that interests them,” Bower replied. “Life. If they’re exploring Enceladus and Titan, then they’ve found life down there.”

“That’s what I thought,” Dr. Ambar replied. “But NASA isn’t convinced. Why linger? Why sit in such an eccentric orbit? It’s almost like they want us to see them.”

“It’s like they’re waiting,” Bower said.

“Waiting for what?”

“For us.” Bower handed the photos back to him, saying, “It’s an invitation. They found life in our backyard and they’re waiting for us to join them.”

The Beginning

I’d like to thank the following people for their support in writing
Xenophobia
. In no particular order, thanks to Commander Mike Morrissey (USA, Retired) for his assistance in the military aspects of this novel, my unofficial editor Brian Wells for his patience,
Jae Lee
for convincing me to delete 25,000 words in the rewrite, and my ever encouraging wife, Fiona, for putting up with my crazy ideas, and my copy-editor
Gillian Peterson
.

The cover art for
Xenophobia
has been graciously provided by
Jae Lee
.

The major premise within
Xenophobia
is that the way we treat each other on Earth will impact how we approach an intelligent alien species. In other words, if we can’t get it together between ourselves, we’re not going to get on well with the neighbors.

There are no easy answers to the dilemma of xenophobia, as is borne out by the social, religious and cultural clashes that occur in regions like Africa and Central Asia, or in Chicago and London for that matter.

Here in Australia, elections always seem to herald a fresh round of xenophobia as politicians seize on the fear of foreigners and the bogus concept of “border security” to secure votes. With
170,000 immigrants arriving each year
, a few thousand arriving by boat makes no difference. The only real concern is that migration through unauthorized channels is a dangerous proposition and somewhat illegal. Asylum seekers with a genuine case should be accepted regardless of whether they arrive by boat, by plane or on a sleigh from the North Pole, but fear is seldom rational, and that’s the perspective I’ve tried to capture in
Xenophobia
.

Any visiting alien would be astonished by the interconnectivity and interdependencies of life on Earth, and this concept extends beyond what we’ve dared imagine until recent times.

The science of biology is continuing to learn more about the intricacies of human life. One aspect touched on in this novel is the concept of the microbiome, or the influence of the microorganisms inhabiting the human body. Technically, they are distinctly separate lifeforms, but in practice they have a profound influence on our lives, one that has parallels to our genome, having a profound impact on our health and physiology. There are ten times as many microbial cells in and on the body as there are human cells, although they are small in size by comparison. Some consider the
microbiome
as vital as any other organ of the body. If you’re interested in learning more about this fascinating, emerging field, check out
Jonathan Eisen’s blog
.

We live on a remarkable planet. For us, life is commonplace, but as best we understand the universe at this point, life is astonishingly rare. Hollywood has aliens attacking Earth, plundering mineral resources or sucking water from our oceans, but the reality is, these commodities are found in absurd abundance throughout space.

If an intelligent alien species ever does come across Earth, the jewel they will seek is one we can freely share: Life.

From an alien’s perspective, it would be fascinating to explore the diversity of life on Earth. They’ll want to understand our evolutionary pedigree and will probably spend more time in museums and universities than they ever will at the White House.

Any alien intelligence that reaches Earth is going to be far more interested in our art, music and literature than they will be in world domination. You won’t find them buzzing around in flying saucers making crop circles, they’ll be on archeological excavations, or conducting biodiversity surveys of the Amazon rainforest, or helping out on a paleontological dig, as that’s where the true riches of Earth lie. Life is the greatest treasure.