CHAPTER 7
The Samaritan and the Emissary had been back at Proxima b for just over two weeks when the news of their discoveries on c Prime broke, including both the real, live (and deadly) Atlantean and the radio message she’d sent to Luyten’s Star. The news was not well received among the general public. In fact, for the government and overall social order, it was an unmitigated disaster.
Fear. Though most of the population had been ignorant of the details revealed from the forbidden continent of Misropos until they were recently made public, their culture was full of myths, fairy tales, and angst related to their prehistorical enslavement by the Atlanteans. To the anthropologists from Earth, looking at Fintidierian culture with the knowledge that mass enslavement of their population had occurred in a largely forgotten history gave them an entirely new perspective to interpret what they observed.
Children’s stories describing in gory detail how misbehaving youngsters would be punished by gremlins and evil creatures that lived for no other purpose than torturing miscreants were now seen as the product of oral traditions handing down the all-too-real experiences of their ancestors when they did not satisfy their Atlantean masters. Similar to Grimm’s Fairy Tales, which, when read from an adult perspective, were quite grim, to Struwwelpeter, old German folk stories were the closest things to which the anthropologists could compare Fintidierian stories. In Struwwelpeter, a boy sucks his thumb and has it cut off. The Fintidierian counterpart has a boy who refuses to do his household chores and gets his toes removed; his teenage brother is castrated. Gruesome stories all. Most had to do with children who did not meet their parents’ expectations suffering dismemberment, torture, or death. It was easy to see how these transitioned from an oral history of enslavement—which would have been passed on to future generations by telling stories, primarily to young people who had not personally experienced the horror—to becoming cautionary stories intended for children.
Adult literature, radio, and television drama also had elements that were undoubtedly derived from stories handed down across time. The Fintidierian version of Shakespeare did not write about such things as love, power, and conflict. Rather, she wrote of the consequences of disobedience to authority, the dangers of innovation and critical thinking, and the fear of the outsider. When looking with this new awareness, the Terrans could see the influence of the long-dead and departed Atlanteans everywhere they looked.
The latest news appeared to have uncovered deep-seated fears among the population.
And the situation was quickly moving from the cultural and historical to the current and political. At first, there was condemnation of the Terrans violating Misropos and endangering the Fintidierian population. When it was clear that there was no disease risk on Misropos, and the Atlantean history became well known, the public began to get xenophobic. Outside of the medical and governmental districts, where Terrans were once enthusiastically greeted, they were now merely tolerated. That initial outrage soon cooled and the public’s view of the Terrans plateaued. Then came the news from c Prime.
Terrans must stop meddling in Fintidierian policy and law! was a popular headline in the newspapers. Earthers violate Fintidierian sovereignty and Earthers will bring destruction to the planet were others. Each contained lengthy editorials describing how the discoveries should be carefully managed by the Fintidierian government with the Terrans participating only as observers. Some were even beginning to question the motive of those who came from Earth. Saviors? Or Enslavers? was the most disturbing headline. Shortly after it appeared, Roy and Chloe Burbank’s home had rocks thrown through their windows, prompting the local authorities to post around-the-clock guards at their house. They were not alone. In just one week, there were over a hundred acts of violence or credible threats made against the newcomers.
When news of the Atlantean’s escape and radio message to Luyten’s Star was made known, the mass protests began. Around government buildings all over the world, crowds gathered and asked their leaders what they were going to do to protect them should the Atlantean enslavers return. Would those from Earth protect them? Would they run away? Or worse yet, would the Terrans join the Atlanteans in oppressing the Fintidierian people? And was the fertility crisis just a convenient excuse for welcoming their Earthly saviors who might actually just be there as puppets for the Atlanteans—as an interplanetary Fifth Column?
It was with this as backdrop that the Fintidierian government called for an emergency meeting with Ambassador Jesus.
“And why, exactly, do I need the SEALs to accompany me to the meeting?” Jesus asked. He and his advisors had just completed their own emergency status meeting, going over the rapidly worsening situation and the steps they would need to take to preserve their primary mission, that of helping the Fintidierian people, while at the same time protecting their people from the Fintidierians.
“For the same reason we’re bringing many of our people back into the compound, at least temporarily,” Mike Rogers replied. “The threats are increasing and all it will take is a few hotheads to ignite a riot, or, worse yet, a massacre. We may still have a technological edge when it comes to protecting our people, but there are too few of us for that to be able to keep us safe. There are a couple hundred of us and a billion Fintidierians. Allowing you out of the compound to cross public streets and into the governmental sector for the meeting provides too easy an opportunity for those hotheads to make their first move. Are you sure Secretary General Arctinier won’t come here?” Rogers was usually a silent member of Jesus’s cabinet meetings, but Jesus was not surprised he spoke up in this meeting. Since the Misropos fiasco, there had been virtually no need for him to bring up any security matters. Things had changed.
“Given that we are the visitors on their planet and that we are trying desperately hard to not be perceived as a threat, asking her to come to us would be a public relations disaster and only embolden the opposition. It would look like she was coming to us because we are somehow her superiors. No, I need to go to her,” Jesus stated in reply.
“I’d like to accompany you, along with at least three of my team,” Rogers offered.
“I’m planning to meet with the secretary general alone. If I agree to a security detail, it certainly won’t be four heavily armed SEALs. We aren’t at war with these people and the display of force, or potential use of force, will send the wrong message,” Jesus said.
“Mr. Ambassador, I must disagree with you,” Captain Crosby countered. Jesus respected Crosby’s judgment on most matters, particularly in matters of security. He had juggled the roles and responsibilities of his shipboard security detail versus the role of the SEALs with clarity and forethought. So far, they had seen eye to eye on the precautions taken planetside with regard to protecting their people.
“Captain, you’ll have to explain,” Jesus said.
“It isn’t organized violence we’re concerned with here, at least not yet. It’s the opportunistic hothead that we need to deter. There isn’t much better a deterrent than seeing fully suited, armed-for-bear soldiers. Otherwise, you will be needlessly exposing yourself to danger that, if the worst happened, would make the situation here much, much worse.”
“Especially for me,” Jesus noted. He wanted to disagree, but he could not. His instincts told him to decline the military escort, but his brain said that would be foolish. Instead, he decided to compromise.
“Very well. Mike, you and one additional SEAL can accompany me in the transport we will take to the meeting. Others of your team can be in one of the shuttles overhead keeping an eye on things, preferably out of sight way overhead and only making their presence known in the event of an emergency,” Jesus said.
“I can live with that,” Rogers agreed, leaning back in his chair.
“I can have the shuttle in place with an hour’s notice,” Crosby added.
“Well, then. We have a plan. I’ll respond to the secretary general and let her know we accept her meeting invitation. Is there another item of business?” asked Jesus.
“Yes, sir. There is,” Crosby said. “And you will likely want to bring it up in your meeting with Secretary General Arctinier.”
“Go on.”
“Captain Jacobs and I met with Dr. Gilster to review the results of her analysis of the radio signal’s source and to discuss the unknown message the Atlantean sent there. We agreed that he should take the Emissary and depart immediately for Luyten’s Star.”
The room was silent. Even Jesus was at a loss for words, a situation that no one close to him would ever believe possible.
“That would take years, correct?”
“About eighteen years absolute, yes. Not so many for the crew,” replied Crosby.
Jesus looked across the table at Captain Jacobs, who nodded in affirmation.
“Why?” Jesus asked.
“Because we need to know what’s there,” Jacobs asserted. “It sure looks like the Atlanteans are a threat not only to this planet, but also to Earth. We’ve got two ships and both are not needed here. Your work on Proxima b requires the medical teams, not the ships and their crews. It won’t be too much longer before those aboard the Samaritan start wondering why they are remaining aboard and not intermarrying with the locals and establishing new lives planetside. They signed up for a one-way trip and the latter part of that plan has not yet materialized. My crew is a different story. They are mostly active-duty members of the Space Force and did not necessarily sign up for a one-way trip, though as members of the military, they know any trip might end up being so. Many are starting to wonder what their next assignment will be. Many, perhaps most, think that they will take the Emissary and return to Earth. And we would, if circumstances had been different. So, from a personal point of view, if we are going to make this trip, then we need to get going. There is no time to ask Earth for permission. With the time lag, we’d have to wait at least nine years to get our answer.
“That explains why we need to go soon, but not the urgency of going as soon as possible,” he continued. “It is our opinion that we need to depart immediately so that we don’t allow too much time to pass between the arrival of whatever message our Atlantean friend sent and our arrival. We may need to diffuse what is likely to be a complicated situation, rife with potential misunderstanding. And that requires expediency.”
“And you are telling me, not asking?” Jesus retorted. Though he phrased it as a question, it was a statement of fact. He had jurisdiction on all matters relating to the Fintidierians and some say in Captain Crosby’s actions since his was a diplomatic, not military, ship. Captain Jacobs, however, had complete and independent control of his ship and crew. Where and when he decided to go was his responsibility to decide.
As expected, Jacob’s affirmative response to Jesus’s non-question was to simply remain silent.
“And I am the one who has to inform Secretary General Arctinier that her visitors are sending a ship to call on the people who once enslaved them. I’m sure she will simply love that,” Jesus said.
“I really don’t see any alternative,” Jacobs countered. “As an officer of the Space Force I am sworn to protect the United States of America and, in this case, all of Earth, from all enemies—foreign and domestic. The Atlanteans are as foreign as one can get. Before we depart, I plan to send a complete status report of the situation and my plans to Earth so they can begin preparing for what might be a future confrontation with the Atlanteans. Hell, they might decide to send some newer ship to join us there. I doubt the timing can be worked out to have us arrive at the same time, or even close. But that will be up to them to decide. My course of action is clear.”
Jesus had to agree. If the Atlantean had awakened and been cooperative, then it might be a different story. But she wasn’t. And they have no idea of the contents of her radio message. There did seem to be a compelling case for the Emissary to make the trip. He just did not yet know how he would deal with the diplomatic fallout.
“Alan, I know you have a dedicated and fiercely loyal crew. But as you just said, they didn’t necessarily sign up for a one-way trip. With the travel times we’re discussing here, for all practical purposes, that’s what it is going to be. With the time it took for the Emissary to get to Proxima b, plus the time spent here, adding another eighteen years to Luyten’s Star and then, optimistically, a decade or so to get home, their tour of duty will end up being as much as thirty years or more. Any family or friends they left on Earth will have long forgotten them when…if…they finally return home,” Jesus noted.
“As you said, my crew is dedicated. They swore the same oath to the Constitution that I did, and I expect they meant it. They will also understand the importance of our mission. It would not be an exaggeration to say that the survival of the human race might well depend upon the actions we take. I can count on them. Besides, the relative time aboard ship will be much less than thirty years,” Jacobs added.
“May I ask about Dr. Gilster’s plans?” Jesus asked.
“She and Mak want to join the Emissary. In fact, I think we would have to use Commander Rogers’s team to keep them, mostly her, from doing so,” Crosby said, rejoining the conversation. “Which brings to mind another pressing question: Will any of Rogers’s team be joining the crew of the Emissary?”
“That’s a damn good question!” Rogers exclaimed. “My team signed the same oath Captain Crosby mentioned, but like the civilians aboard the Samaritan, they signed up for a trip here, not a series of interstellar deployments. I’ll have to meet with them and see what they think before I make a decision. I believe you’ll need some protection when you arrive, but I sure as hell don’t want to order any of them to go.”
“Well, no offense to Commander Rogers, but the Emissary did come with its own contingent of Space Force spec ops personnel,” Captain Jacobs asserted.
“None taken, General.” Rogers nodded, using Jacobs’s official rank and not his ship title.
“How soon do you plan to depart?” asked Jesus.
“Next week,” Crosby said.
* * *
Fintidierian Secretary General Balfine Arctinier sat in her office, alone, having just dismissed her closest aides to give her time to mentally prepare for the meeting with Ambassador Jesus. The more she considered the symbolic nature of his name, given that he was the political leader of the Terrans sent to Proxima to “save” them from extinction, the more she wondered if it was his real name, one he assumed to intimidate them, or The One True God’s idea of a joke. With the seriousness of every crisis now faced by her people, if it were a joke, then it was not a very funny one.
The fertility crisis was not any closer to resolution and the people’s hope that was aroused by the Terrans’ arrival was definitely beginning to fade. Her political opponents, primarily Senator Garpur and his acolytes, were using the events in space to destabilize their society, stoking fears and encouraging the riots, all in the name of weakening her ahead of next year’s election. There was outrage when the people learned more of the nature of the ruins on Misropos and that their leaders knew about them and yet continued to keep it secret, promulgating the “contagion” lie regarding why the small continent was kept off-limits. A lie that spanned millennia.
She did not believe the Terrans were conspiring with the mythical Atlanteans, which the general public now knew were not so mythical, yet she couldn’t help but wonder about the timing of the events that had recently transpired. The Terrans just happened to find Atlantean ruins and a live, murderous Atlantean as they were trying to figure out the exact source of the mysterious radio signal from space—which, coincidentally, was the destination of the radio message the rogue Atlantean transmitted before her death. Coincidence after coincidence, after coincidence.
It was too much for the population and almost too much for her. She was going to suggest the Terrans temporarily return to the compound they’d lived in after their arrival and while under quarantine. She could protect them there. Many had moved out of the compound to live among her people; some had actually married Fintidierians and “gone local.” For the former it would be inconvenient; for the latter, difficult on the Fintidierians involved. But it was for their own safety, and she hoped Ambassador Jesus would accept that.
The door to her office opened with her assistant announcing that the ambassador had arrived.
“Send him in,” she said as she rose from her chair, then walked around her desk to greet Jesus as he entered.
“Thank you for coming to meet with me on such short notice, Mr. Ambassador,” Arctinier remarked, offering her hand in the type of handshake she knew the Terrans preferred and to which they were accustomed. She tried to smile.
“It is my pleasure, Madam Secretary General,” Jesus replied, taking her offered hand and grasping it. His grip was not too tight and not too soft. She returned it in kind.
They sat in the two chairs on the area rug in the center of her office. She found it much easier to negotiate and reach agreement with a peer this way. Remaining behind her desk for meetings was something she only did with subordinates or those she was trying to intimidate. She knew intimidating Jesus would absolutely not work, so she did not even bother trying.
“Mr. Ambassador, I am sure you are aware that the threats and acts of violence against you and your people have increased dramatically since their return from the outer solar system,” she said.
“We are. And I am concerned,” Jesus responded. “Not only regarding the safety of my people, but also about the success of our mission.”
“I’m glad we are in agreement. I hope you will also agree that we need to take some measures to keep both safe, even if they are somewhat…unpalatable.”
“That depends. What do you have in mind?” asked Jesus.
“I would like to move all your people and their families back into the compound until this all cools down. Even better would be if some or all of your people returned to their ships. This would, of course, be a temporary measure,” she added.
“Temporary? How temporary?” Jesus asked.
“Just until the threat against them subsides—a few months, perhaps,” she said. Of course, they both knew that such measures could quickly become permanent. It would all depend upon the fickleness of the public—and the actions of the opposition.
“I share your concern for the safety of our people, but I don’t believe retreating into an armed compound and separating ourselves is the best way to win over hearts and minds. Please don’t forget that the crew of the Samaritan are here to stay. They gave up their lives on Earth to live among your people and help solve the crisis you now face. Placing them in the compound for any length of time, especially after living for nearly a year of intermingling, would be akin to placing them in jail for a crime they did not commit.”
Damn. He was not going to make this easy. Though she firmly believed he and the Terrans were peaceful, she could not forget that as long as their ships orbited the planet, they could do whatever they damn well pleased. Since their arrival, she had learned a great deal of their history and technical capabilities, even though they had skillfully left out information from their encyclopedic data dump beamed from Earth over the years. Most notably, she’d learned about the whole Cold War thing and the tens of thousands of atomic bombs that ostensibly kept it “cold.” From what her cadre of aerospace engineers told her, their visitors could also simply drop projectiles from orbit, with their kinetic energy upon impact having effects similar to those of atomic weapons but without the radiation. No, she could not force them into their compound. Jesus had the upper hand here, ill intent or not.
“I see. We both know that I cannot force you into the compound and, I assure you, I would not do so even if I believed I could. Other than the increased police presence near where your people live and work that we’ve already put in place, there is not much more that I can do. We must work together to ratchet down the threat of violence. It would help if we were able to announce significant progress in the search for a cure. Do you have any notable updates?” Arctinier was briefed daily on the joint team’s progress in searching for a cure, but she also knew that there might be work going on that her team was not part of. It did not hurt to ask.
“Unfortunately, I don’t have any news on the biology team’s work. I will let you know as soon I hear anything,” Jesus offered with a frown and a shrug.
“I would like for you to look at this.” Arctinier handed him a folder. Jesus opened it and started reading.
“What’s this? Graggyon Oo’ortava?” he muttered through the pronunciation of the name. “Physics student at Gwonura Institute for Learning…”
“The first volunteer apprentice,” Arctinier said with a raised eyebrow.
“Apprentice?” Jesus repeated rhetorically. “Okay, a physics student. He could sit in with Dr. Burbank or maybe Rain’s team…”
“No!” Arctinier exclaimed—a bit too harshly, perhaps. “I’m, ur, sorry. But, please no. I want him on the fertility crisis team. This young man is smart and talented. He will learn anything and everything he can and not be in the way.”
“Why the fertility crisis team?”
“We have to show a combined, ur, team effort,” Arctinier insisted.
“Oo’ortava? Related to Secretary Harma Oo’ortava by any chance?” Jesus asked.
“Ambassador, I must explain,” Arctinier added shyly. “We queried thousands of potentials. We have a few who agreed to meet, but none are willing to immediately start work. Harma’s nephew was one of the potentials. He’s a good kid. I asked her to pressure him to say yes. We must, Charles, must start showing some solidarity. Please, help me here. Put this young man as an apprentice to your fertility crisis team.”
“I see,” Jesus agreed. “Sometimes, who you know turns out to not be a blessing, huh?”
“A blessing?” Arctinier took a moment but then smiled. “Haha! Yes. But, I think this is the opportunity of a lifetime for any young scientists from our people, even if they do not realize it yet.”
“We have a saying back on Earth, Madam Secretary General,” Jesus said. “‘Fortune favors the bold.’ If this lad is bold enough to take the position, I will get him there. And hopefully, his fortune will favor us all.”
“Indeed.” Arctinier leaned back in her chair and exhaled as if she were happy to have gotten that conversation off her shoulders. “Was there more?”
“Well, yes. I do have another item to make you aware of. I would have requested a private meeting to discuss it if you had not already done so,” Jesus said.
“Go on.”
“Given that we are now certain that the radio broadcast Dr. Gilster and her team detected originates at Luyten’s Star and that this was also the intended destination of the message broadcast by the Atlantean when she commandeered the communications system on the Samaritan, we are dispatching the Emissary there immediately. This should alleviate some of the safety concerns you raised earlier. Just over half of our people will be departing on the Emissary within the next several days.”
Do these people realize how difficult they are making my job? This news caught Arctinier flat-footed, and her mind began spiraling into speculation of how the people would respond to this bit of news. Outwardly, the only way she was able to remain calm was by relying on her years of training as a professional politician. Inwardly, well, that was a different story.
“I am glad you informed me first. I will need some time to figure out how, in turn, to inform the public without further inflaming them. That will make my deployment of additional police protection all the more important,” she said.
“And we certainly appreciate that, Madam Secretary General. I realize you are not happy with this development, but I believe the impact will be minimal. Given the distances involved, the Emissary will not reach Luyten’s Star for another eighteen years—plenty of time for our team to have found a cure and for things here to calm down.”
Arctinier knew that in eighteen years, either she would be in retirement sipping mixed drinks at cocktail parties as a large cohort of children, male and female, were graduating from schools all across the planet, or she would most likely be dead from the chaos that would inevitably be part of the collapse of the civilization if no cure were found. She could not imagine anything in between.
“Well, then, let’s plan on success and see how we can get the people to share our optimistic views,” she said, painting her most convincing, though totally artificial, smile on her face as she extended her hand to formally end their meeting.
“I am all for optimism,” Jesus returned as he grasped her hand and rose from his seat. “For what it’s worth, I mean that. I am convinced that if a cure can be found, then our combined team will find it. As for the Emissary, I simply cannot predict what they will find at the end of their journey. For that reason, I choose to be optimistic there as well.”