Dr
Klaas Joost was ushered into a spacious room for a brief audience
with the Prime Minister of the Republic of Epsilon. He had a satchel.
He was informed by the Minister's Assistant at the front office desk
that the meeting would be so brief that Dr Joost need not sit when
the Minister arrived to talk with him.
The
Prime Minister was not in the mood for meetings with persons who were
not Politically important. In the Politics of the Republic, Dr Joost
was an utter nobody.
The
Republic was in crisis. A week ago, it had been expelled from the
United Nations because of its refusal to change some of its
repressive laws against large segments of its population. The
President, Balthasar Vorster, had resigned in protest against the
Prime Minister. All the major nations of the world had closed their
embassies. If the Prime Minister and his Political Party did not show
a willingness to change, the next disaster would be disruptions in
the Republic's international trade and other financial business.
The
Prime Minister walked in. "Dr Joost?" "Yes, sir."
"What it? Be brief. You said to my Assistant, it was about
rescuing the Republic." "Sir, it's about radio contact with
an intelligence several thousand light years away." The Prime
Minister stared at him, completely not understanding.
Joost
hastily continued. "Only we have been contacted, sir. And if we
respond in the next few days, we will have incredible
extraterrestrial military might."
The
Prime Minister went to his desk and sat. "Pull up a chair, Dr.
Tell me everything." He pressed the intercom on his desk. The
Assistant answered. The Prime Minister spoke, "Keep everybody
out." "Yes, sir." He looked at Joost. Joost spoke,
nervously.
"Sir,
about fifty years ago all the major nations formed an organization to
search, by radio transmissions, for life in Outer Space. They built
telescopes in many countries, including ours. For the next twenty
years, or so, no contacts were made. All the major Nations, and most
of the others, lost interest. All the telescopes gradually shut down.
Except the one in this country.
It
was in my small town, Eridani. We named our telescope Epsilon
Eridani, in honour of our Republic, and after the star, ten light
years away, from our Solar System. A business man there, Ozma Sagan,
at his own expense, kept the telescope from closing down.
Nothing
happened until a few days ago. We received a signal that has been
repeating. Sir, I and the late mister Sagan's family, have
interpreted the signals. That Civilization sent out probes about
forty years ago, in search of civilization with whom to communicate.
One of those probes, sir, is deep underground in this country. Sir,
we have worked out the code that will trigger that probe to come to
the surface."
They
stared at each other in tense silence. "Sir, the code must be
radioed no later than September eighth, three days from now. Here,
sir. The radio transmitter and the code." He handed the Prime
Minister his satchel. The Prime Minister did not take the satchel.
"Dr
Joost, this is phenomenal luck. You must be in charge." "I
cannot, sir. I am dying. Terminal cancer. I have only days. It's not
complicated, sir. Any radio operator in our army, can do it. I am
returning to Eridani, sir, to die."
After
he left the satchel with the Prime Minister, Klaas Joost was never
seen or heard of again. The Prime Minister was too busy to notice.
Far
away in the office of a President of a Super Power, a similar urgent
secret meeting was taking place between a General and his President
while they intentionally and cautiously walked about in a home's
backyard garden. The President was angry that it was the first time
she was being informed of a matter of such importance.
"Madam
President, this began about fifty years ago. Nobody is alive today
who was involved at the beginning. Long before we had satellites in
orbit." "The satellite that picked up the radio signals,
has it been repositioned?" "We are trying. We have
re-aligned others."
"And
you say we are not in the direct line of fire." "Not any
specific country, as we have calculated so far; just the Earth, as a
whole."
"What
do you recommend we do, General?"
"Madam
President, our secret agents have evidence there was only one radio
telescope that likely picked up the whole transmission. In the
Republic of Epsilon." The President abruptly turned away at the
mention of the name of the Republic.
"I
know, Madam President. But it is such a small country that espionage
will not work. You have to make concessions, or, at least, appear to
make concessions in order for us to enter and investigate." They
paced about in silence for some seconds.
"Anything
on how or if other Nations are responding?" "Nothing
definite, Madam President, although we have noticed two have been
re-aligning some of their orbiting satellites. And our agents have
uncovered increased illegal infiltration into the Republic of Epsilon
by high-placed foreigners, in the last few weeks."
"All
right, General. Prepare your people to be ready to enter in full
force within hours." "How soon, Madam President?" The
President stopped pacing, and silently made calculations. "At
least three weeks." "That will take us to September.
Cutting it close. But we will just have to make it work."
September
sixth, two days from the deadline, the Prime Minister of the Republic
was assassinated; stabbed in the neck as he sat in a full session of
Parliament; stabbed by an in-house nothing-delivery person; a
foreigner.
Joost's
satchel with its contents were never found.
Two
days later, September eighth, a few capable telescopes on Earth
registered a star-shattering explosion, hundreds of light years away,
in a straight line from the star Proxima Centauri, approximately four
light years from our Solar System.
Mysteriously,
the town, Eridani, disappeared without a trace at about the same
time; not that anyone of note on Earth noticed. None of the scores of
anonymous foreign agents illegally in the country, found evidence
that Epsilon Eridani, the telescope, had ever existed.
A
few of those agents did spend a few hours, in casual passing, in a
roadside tavern that claimed to be on the spot of a telescope that
functioned years and years ago. The two elderly gentlemen owners of
the tavern, Ozma Sagan and Klaas Joost, were not taken seriously by
anyone.
Contact
Ezra (Unless
you
type
the
author's name in
the subject
line
of the message we
won't know where to send it.)
