The Angels of Destiny Read online

  Hunter spent some time introducing Rob McPherson to each of the assembled members in turn. Of all the members only Raymond Strong Jnr. was familiar to McPherson.

  After the formalities were over, Hunter stood up. "Ladies and Gentlemen, looking around the table today, I feel a certain — self-satisfaction. It has taken a considerable amount of time, money and effort to bring together such an eminent team, and I’m sure that after this afternoon, you will all agree, it was essential to do so. Before I talk to you in detail, I want to ask Walter Rottenberg to spend a little time setting the scene, so to speak." Hunter then sat down; as he did he offered his hand to Rottenburg, in a gesture to take over.

  Walter Rottenburg stood up, cleared his throat and moved to the audio-visual unit on a raised floor section, slightly to the right of Hunter. He was a senior astronomer, in his early sixties. He had white bushy hair and large black-framed glasses, which looked too big for his face. He reminded McPherson of the mad professor. His latter years had been dedicated to understanding Black Holes, but he was also renowned, worldwide, for his knowledge of ‘Pulsars.’

  At the press of a switch the room-lights dimmed and the first presentation slide lit up the big screen. In a very confident and clear voice he began. "Forty years ago on November 16 1974, a radio signal was transmitted into space from the Arecibo Radio Telescope, in Puerto Rico. The dish was three hundred and five metres in diameter and so powerful it could communicate with an identical twin of itself anywhere in our Galaxy." A photo of the Telescope filled the screen.

  Rottenburg paused; he had everyone’s undivided attention. "The radio signal was pointed at a star cluster of some 300,000 stars called, M13, in the constellation of Hercules. What was special about this signal is that it consisted of 1679 digital pulses. Any intelligent life form would soon realize that the pulses could be arranged to form a picture of life on Earth. Information about our chemical make-up, our position in the Solar System... and Man’s image, of course. On the basis that the signals travel at the speed of light, we do not expect to get a reply — if at all, until the year AD 50,000." Without waiting for questions, or a thank-you from Hunter, Walter Rottenburg returned to his seat.

  Hunter, once again rose to his feet, and took up the same position on the raised floor as Rottenburg had. "So why bother you're thinking, aren't you?... None of us will be around in AD 50,000. I’ll tell you why.”…Hunter paused. "Central Intelligence has discovered that China has decided to spend money, and I mean big money on a secret project called Sky Watch. They are not waiting until AD 50,000 for an answer. Their argument is that if there is intelligent life out there, they may, just may, be trying to communicate with us, now.”

  McPherson watched and listened intently as Hunter’s tone became more serious.

  "NASA is barred by Congress from spending public money looking for aliens and so far SETI has failed miserably; but this project will be under the guise of Astrobiology, as you know that’s looking for evidence of life beyond our planet. In the end it’s just words ladies and gentlemen, but one thing is clear and unequivocal, America cannot allow China to get there first. Consider the following argument... We now have available to us the biggest, fastest, Super Computer Network in the world, we also have the new generation of high sensitivity x-ray, radio and optical transceivers, recently positioned in space and capable of detecting signals one hundred thousand times weaker than anything the Chinese can detect. Together with this, we have Dr McPherson’s specialist knowledge of filtering out the mass of unwanted ‘Fusion Noise’ from the incoming signals. 'Don't ask me what that means, ask Dr McPherson," Hunter said, smiling. He continued. "All of this means that it will be possible to scan M13, that is 300,000 plus, stars, in a period of approximately three weeks. That means, systematic searching of the entire universe, as we know it today, is probable within our life times."

  “Perhaps not mine,” joked Walter Rottenburg.

  “Do not forget — China cannot do this yet. Presently, they only have land based technology. Our advantage has cost the US a considerable amount of money, the majority of it, from the defense budget, and we now need to capitalize on the technology, to see the returns on our investment. Making contact could mean knowledge beyond our wildest dreams, knowledge, that would be owned and controlled by the US, ladies and gentlemen. We would be the world super-power without rival. Think about that.” He paused, glancing around the table at the individual members.

  "Please Raymond." Hunter said, pointing to the presentation area. Raymond Strong Jnr. stood up and inhaled before stepping on to the raised floor area. He stood still for a moment and faced the group with both hands linked and resting on his large belly, acquired by years of excessive food and drink at expensive restaurants. His black curly hair hung over his forehead in little ringlets and his fat, flushed face was almost expressionless.

  McPherson remembered him when he was a lot younger and very handsome, but now, he thought, he’d let himself go. He wondered what his wife looked like now. Probably still petit and elegant, like he remembered her, in Cleveland, Ohio.

  Raymond Strong then began speaking. "This may come as a surprise to some of you but we already know that we are not alone in the Universe.” He quickly looked around the table at the team, sitting in silent disbelief. “The official line of course, is that we deny all knowledge of this, but the reality is that we’ve already been ‘visited.’ The Fermi-Hart Paradox, is no longer a paradox. But what we have failed to do is communicate with these beings. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have two dead alien bodies in Washington."

  Silence filled the room.

  McPherson glanced at the others around the table. It was not news to him; he had seen them, lying naked side by side.

  "Who they are, and where they’ve come from, we don’t know. What we do know is that they are, humanlike, in appearance. Ladies and gentlemen we are not alone. Statistically, it means there are probably millions of other advanced civilizations out there, and the United States of America must be the first to communicate with them." He paused as the assembled members wrestled with his words. "We now estimate, given what we know, that there’s possibly millions of potential signals that we can listen to, with the expensive hardware, floating above our heads. Our future could be shaped from the superior knowledge that they have, knowledge, that could otherwise take us thousands of years to possess, if at all. We could use such information to develop new techniques in medicine, genetics, agriculture, industry, and defense: the list could be infinite. It would make us, the Super Power of all Super Powers: Arabs, Russians, Asians, even the Chinese, would be clambering, just to lick our ass."

  "Where were they found?" asked Vicki Stark.

  Raymond Strong paused, and smiled — “I’m sorry, that’s highly classified information."

  Three

  It was the second day, and Samuel Black entered conference room B14 for the second, Project M13 meeting, due to start at eight o’clock. He had worked for the US Government for the last eighteen years, having joined them straight from Harvard University with a double Major in Systems Behavior and Logistics. His ability as an organizer and man-manager became obvious very early in his career and promotion followed very quickly. Within six-years he had reached Level three management status, and enjoyed the life style it brought with it. His wife, Kim, was two years younger than he was, attractive, intelligent and a professional golfer. Money was not a problem to the Blacks. With no children and both partners dedicated to their own professions, they lived, almost separate lives, but their sybaritic existence suited them, and from the outside, it appeared to work.

  Within minutes, Rob McPherson, arrived with Vicki Stark and Yuri Klyushin, closely followed by the rest of the team.

  "Good morning, everyone," said Samuel, smiling.

  "Good morning," came the communal reply.

  "Please be seated."

  After everyone settled, Samuel Black began.

  "As you know from my email, I want to discuss, in an open
forum, the tasks that you have each been given to make this project a success. Linda will be here soon," he said, glancing at his watch…"She will be responsible for all meeting notes. They will be emailed to you at the end of every meeting: Please acknowledge them as true or false within twenty-four hours. This morning, I have arranged for a working breakfast, it will be here in thirty minutes; I trust the choice is acceptable to you."

  There was a knock on the door at seven-fifty-nine and Linda Washington entered the room. Samuel Black introduced her to the team and invited her to take a seat at the table, at the only available chair. He then continued. "Before we get down to the business of the day, has anyone got a problem with their accommodation?" He looked around the room, for comment. Clearly, everyone was delighted with the project complex. It was of the very highest standard, with a large gymnasium, therapy pool, solarium, and a very impressive, UV filtered, glass-domed pool. Each apartment had a bedroom, large lounge, kitchen and office. Government guards were responsible for 24-hour security within the walled complex. Black wasn’t expecting any problems when he enquired.

  Samuel Black raised his right hand to his mouth and quietly coughed to clear a small amount of cocaine from his throat.

  "I want to start with you, Yuri," he said. "Your task is to produce the raw information for analysis by Rob. Would you like to comment on how this will be done."

  "Certainly," he replied. "Within the last three years, in conjunction with the international space station and the Super Shuttle ‘America 3,’ we’ve positioned ten transceivers in various strategic positions approximately one-thousand miles above the Earth’s surface. They are fixed units not orbiting satellites...They communicate directly with four Earth Stations in turn, giving data twenty-four hours a day. That means, Houston is able to constantly analyze the raw data.”

  "Any questions so far?" Samuel enquired. There was silence.

  "Please continue, Yuri."

  "We estimate it will take about three-weeks to scan M13 in its entirety."

  McPherson nodded his approval at the methodology. "At least we won’t have to contend with the problems caused by the Earth’s atmosphere,” said McPherson.

  "Precisely," replied Yuri, but the Chinese will.

  "So what are our chances of making contact, Yuri?" asked Vicki Stark.

  "Good question.”

  “And one paramount to this whole operation,” interjected Black.

  Yuri appeared to be enjoying every moment, pausing for thought before he continued. "Carl Sagan, using the famous Drake equation in 1966 estimated that there could be as many as one million advanced civilizations in existence communicating within our Galaxy. This was based on the fact that he thought there were over a billion stars in our Galaxy alone. We now know, thanks to Hubble, that Sagan grossly underestimated the number of stars. Hubble's deep space images of what we thought was just darkness have shown many more galaxies that at the time, Sagan knew nothing about. We now know that there are some eighty-billion other galaxies in the observable universe and seventy-sextillion stars, that’s 7x10 to the power of 22, in the visible universe alone. We are also finding more and more planets circling stars that could be the home of our two dead aliens. What is more important though, is that we find a communications ‘window,' that is a civilization, that is similar to ours in its development, and able to communicate in a way that we can understand.”

  He paused to take a drink of water. “Civilizations far more advanced than ours may well use techniques that we don’t understand, so we couldn’t listen to those signals even if we wanted to. More primitive civilizations, of course, will not be transmitting anyway, so this ‘window’ as we call it is crucial, if we are to be successful and make contact, but when you consider the massive numbers of stars, our chances must be high. This was the argument that persuaded the government to invest in M13 in the first place. Ironically, if we do make contact, the civilization that sent the signals might well be extinct, due to the long time delay in sending the signals across the Universe. We start sending the co-ordinates to point the transceivers at M13 as soon as the data network links are in place. In essence, Vicki, it's a numbers game,” concluded Klyushin.

  "That’s your job, Vicki," said Samuel Black, and she nodded in agreement.

  "The amount of data we expect to receive is massive," continued Yuri.

  "That’s no problem,” responded Vicki Stark. "We have enough disk space, believe me."

  "My problem is analyzing the huge mass of data," replied McPherson.

  "Okay...okay...lets keep some order to the proceedings," interrupted Black, authoritatively. “Have you finished for the time being, Yuri?"

  "I think so."

  "Thanks for your input, Yuri. It sounds like we’re in good shape."

  "We are.”

  Continuing, Black asked. "Okay, on the basis that we can get the information ...explain how we get it to Houston, Vicki."

  Looking at Black, McPherson thought how tired and drawn he looked, his face was pale and sad, and yet, he appeared to be in good spirits.

  Vicki Stark then gained his attention. She was the only female on the team, very attractive, and clearly very confident, thought McPherson, as she began to address Black’s question.

  "Well, as mentioned earlier, we have four base stations; one in Australia, one in Kuwait, one in Europe and one in West Virginia. They are globally positioned to take account of the Earth’s rotation so that at any one time at least two of them will be communicating with the Transceivers in space. Each station on Earth communicates with Houston via satellite. We have already tested the local satellite links from the stations to here in Houston and everything’s fine. This afternoon I finish checking the communications from the base stations to the transceivers. We believe, however, that a small meteor has damaged one transceiver, but that has to be confirmed."

  "What will that do to our schedule, if it’s true?" Yuri Klyushin asked Samuel Black.

  "In fact, our schedule, is based on using data from only eight of the transceivers."

  "Good," replied Klyushin, sporting a large smile.

  Linda Washington recorded every word being spoken, for automatic conversion to text.

  McPherson noticed that she spent a lot of time making eye contact. She certainly was very attractive, he thought, and he estimated her age to be about twenty-five, maybe a little older, considering the position she held. Linda Washington was actually twenty-four, the youngest PA in the building...and by far the best.

  "We now need to look at the way the data will be analyzed and that is your department, Rob."

  Back to full concentration, McPherson answered, “It certainly is. The gathering of data is easy with modern technology; the trick, is in analyzing the useful information you get, from that data; if at all. I suspect, that over ninety-five percent of the data we will gather will be meaningless rubbish, or cosmic noise, as we call it. What I've developed is an algorithm that can filter this noise, and look for patterns. Patterns are important, because they indicate structure, and any intelligent life form will be transmitting signals that have structure. We can do this in almost realtime, so for instance, if there is someone sending out signals, and we pick them up then within days we will be able to identify them. With this algorithm and the availability of very sensitive twenty-four hour data, we are in a much stronger position than the Chinese. I must add a caveat here though, and that is, if we do identify a structured message, there is no guarantee that we will be able to understand it. The life-form that sent it may be far more advanced than we are. It’ll be outside of the so called Window of communication."

  Black smiled. “Thanks for that, Rob.”

  Three weeks had quickly passed and the team was working well together. Long working hours and many technical problems, though, had taken its toll on all of them. Their social lives had vanished; replaced, with long, stressful, hours resolving the difficult technical problems that just seemed endless, and Samuel Black’s constant reminder of
the President’s personal interest in the project, was really beginning to irritate them.

  It was seven-thirty when Vicki Stark arrived for work one particular morning. She was not her normal, confident, smiling self but looked rather tired and pale from the relentless workload she’d endured. Things weren’t going to plan and she had to accept personal responsibility for the delay, a delay that affected the whole team.

  After going through the usual security, something she found more irritating each time, she finally reached her office, situated next to McPherson. It was a small room with little in the way of decoration, other than a scenic calendar on the plain cream papered wall in front of her, standard issue, computer desk, two chairs, some empty shelving and a filing cabinet to the left of the door, on top of which stood a large framed family group photograph.

  She was the first team member in, knowing that there was no time to waste in resolving the software problem that was holding up the entire project. Slowly, she lowered herself into her swivel chair and stared at the scribbled notes all over the calendar with an unusually blank expression.

  McPherson looked in through the open door of her office as he passed by. "Have you been here all night?” he asked, and watched as she jumped in surprise.

  "Oh shit! You gave me a fright"

  McPherson had never heard her swear before, and strangely, it made her seem more approachable to him, more human. As if she had lowered her guard at last. "I’m sorry... It must be your nerves."

  "Don’t joke about my nerves," Vicki said, pleadingly.

  "Hey...come on, things can’t be that bad?" he said, entering her office and smelling her perfume.

  "Can’t they? — I know I’m holding up the entire project Rob, but it isn’t easy, and I feel exhausted with all the hours I’m putting in. My bloody career’s on the line here."