The Black Ships (4 page)

Sixty
Meter Observatory

Mauna
Kea, Hawaii

January 4th, 2026

"E
vening, Mike.” Pete McGregor walked into
the control room with a bag of food, handing it to the Red Flag astronomer. “Mr.
Gray tells me you’ve been up here since the discovery? Sorry to barge in, but
he wanted independent confirmation.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m glad to have
someone else look at this; I’m worried that I might be losing it!” Mike set
down the bag, pulling out a burger with a fried egg on it. During his time on
the islands, he had never been tempted by any of the variations on the local
loco
moco
dish, but he was too hungry now to care. He crammed the burger into
his mouth, biting off half while Pete looked up at the stills on the monitor.
Mike wasn’t sure if it was just hunger, but it was the best damned burger he
had eaten in his entire life. Having taken the edge off, he finished off the
remainder at a more normal pace while watching his friend’s reaction.

The engineer from NASA was shaking his head
as he looked at the screen. “It’s crazy. They knocked out both facilities?”

Mike put down his food. “I don’t see any
bodies but those little guys are all over the ISS site
and
our mining
operation.” He walked over to the touch screen and turned to face Pete. “No
human activity since we started seeing them, and then, they did this last
night.” He reached up to a cluster of control tabs and hit a play icon. A
window flew up in the center of the screen, showing a video recording from the
mining site.

Pete watched for a moment. “They’re
fiddling with the rovers? Stands to reason; they want to gauge our technology
and the obvious place to…”

Mike had raised his hand, cutting Pete off.
“What ever reason it stands to, Pete, it’s not the one you’re talking about.”
He stepped away from the screen to watch with the engineer. The small figures
were rapidly moving away from the rover park.

“What the hell …” Pete stopped suddenly as
a series of orange-red blossoms replaced each rover. “They blew up all of your
rovers?”

Mike nodded. Picking up the tablet on the
table behind them, he stabbed his finger at the control widget, then grabbed
the remains of the burger, stuffing it into his mouth. “Not jush oursh,” he
mumbled, dribbling bread crumbs into his scruffy goatee as a new window opened,
showing the habitats of the Vinland station. Their rover park had been blown as
well.

Peter stared at the screen. “So much for
paying off my student loans.”

Washington, D.C.

January 4
^th
, 2026

P
arnell stared up at the monitor as the last of the stills filled the
screen, ten scorched wrecks that used to be rovers.
What the hell am I
supposed to do about this?
 he wondered.
Good God, what president
has ever had to deal with anything even remotely like this?
He came out of
his reverie when he realized that the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff was
speaking.

“…makes it abundantly clear that these are
hostile forces and we have to prepare to face them.” Admiral Kelly pounded his
hand on the table in emphasis. “ Despite what Administrator Gray thinks, I
would rather meet them with force and be wrong than meet them in peace and be
wrong.”

Charles Gray leaned forward, turning to the
right to aim his retort at the Admiral. “Why do we always fall back on
Hollywood and assume that an alien presence will automatically mean a violent
invasion? The destruction of our equipment might have had a less sinister
purpose.” He glared about the room. “Let’s consider for a moment that these
creatures come from a civilization advanced enough to travel between solar
systems. Isn’t it possible that they might be just a bit more enlightened than
us?”

Parnell had been listening idly, still
wondering what he was supposed to do in a case like this when the NASA
Administrator’s comment brought him back to the present. “No doubt the native
tribes had similar arguments when they spotted the first European ships
anchored offshore,” he interjected with a dry tone. “Things didn’t go too well
for them, as I recall.”

Kelly sat back, looking across the table at
the president. “Sir, it may surprise you to learn that NASA has had a team
working with DARPA for almost eight years now and this type of scenario has
pretty much been the sole focus of their work.

Gray was obviously caught off guard by this
but kept silent.
Good,
thought Parnell.
He has the sense to know when
he’s been flanked. He knows not to compound his lack of knowledge with empty
bluster.
“What do you have, gentlemen?” The plural was a salve for Gray.
It’s
like looking after my brother’s kids sometimes.

Admiral Kelly touched the remote pad,
bringing a series of schematics up on the screen. Each set of drawings was
followed by a three dimensional rendering. The Admiral was showing them ships –
spaceships. “Essentially, the plan is similar to one of our current carrier
groups. The recommendation is for a series of carriers each with a collection
of escorts. Obviously, launching such vessels from the surface would be
impossible so we would have to get the construction materials into orbit and
assemble everything up there.”

“Obviously,” the president interjected
dryly. “Charles, do you have any comments about the feasibility of shipping a
fleet’s worth of steel into space?”

Gray took a sip of his coffee before
setting the mug down. “Sir, our primary bottleneck would be the physical
dimensions of the payloads. We wouldn’t even be able to ship an F-22 into space
in one piece.” He leaned forward, looking directly at the president. “And we’re
talking about building a carrier in space?” He glared down at Kelly. “Do you
realize how much welding would have to be done in space suits? How many
astronauts would be needed for that kind of work?”

Parnell watched the grin spread on Kelly’s
face.
Chuck, you might be a hell of a smart guy, but Tom Kelly makes a
living as a fighter and there’s no way he would walk into this meeting with his
agenda and not have you firmly tied down.
The Admiral had something tucked
up his sleeve.

“Perhaps, Mr. Gray, you could explain the
orbital airship concept that your administration has been holding back for the
last few years?” Kelly leaned on his right elbow, enjoying the look of anger on
Gray’s face.

Maybe it’s time to reign them in,
Parnell mused.
Still, there might be more useful information to
shake loose while these two are riled up. Time to poke the fire a bit.
“Chuck,
what’s Tom talking about?” he asked, all innocence. “What technology are you
holding back? I thought it was your mandate to expand on any possible advances.”

Gray bristled. “Mr. President, there are a
few organizations out there advocating the use of airships to get into orbit.
My predecessor had a policy of discouraging private capital from backing the
concept and, frankly, I agree.” He sounded defensive but certain. “The last
seven decades, we have poured Billions into rocket development. Now that
private enterprise has started to step in and pick up the torch, we’re supposed
to simply throw all that away and start over again with a whole new concept?”
His tone was becoming strident. “How the hell are we supposed to get out there
if we can’t pick a method and commit to making it work?”

  Parnell looked back at Kelly. “Tom,
you better have a reason for bringing this up; we don’t have time to sit around
taking pot-shots at each other. Do orbital airships come into the DARPA plan?”

Kelly nodded, his face now under rigid
control – the sparring was over. “Sir, the plan calls for the construction of
the ships in modules that we fabricate here on the ground. We load them onto
heavy lift airships that would then transit to a way station at forty thousand
meters. The way station then transfers the cargo to a second type of airship
that’s designed to go into low Earth orbit. Orbital assembly would be greatly simplified.”

Director Perdue cut in. “Admiral, are you
saying that this can’t be done with current launch capabilities?”

Kelly’s face showed the slightest hint of a
smile. “Mary, that’s exactly what I’m leading up to.” He looked down the table
at Gray. “How much can you put into LEO with those old engines from the
shuttle, Chuck, seventy tons?” His smile grew. “Or as your press release put
it, the equivalent of forty SUV’s?” Gray fumed as the room broke out in
chuckles. “Were you worried that the American public wouldn’t understand?”
Kelly was making sure he kept Gray on the ropes. “Maybe you should throw in a
conversion factor for
stadiums full of popcorn
?”

“And how much did your team tell you it
would cost?” Gray wasn’t about to just lay on the floor and take a pummeling.
He may not have earned a living in combat, but he knew what weapons he could
use in a situation like this.

The president looked at Kelly and he could
see the hesitation. Parnell was a politician, and like the rest of his kind, he
could smell blood in the water.  “Tom, how much are we looking at,
including the cost of getting these airships up and running?”

Admiral Kelly had been staring at Gray,
knowing the moment had been forced too soon. He turned to Parnell and looked
him straight in the eye. “Mr. President, the total budget will be thirty-four
Trillion, including assembly.” He remained stock still, looking at the man with
the purse strings.

Parnell stared back at him in a silent
room.
Did I hear that right?
“Tom, did you just ask me to spend one and
a half times our current national debt?”

Sam, oddly enough the only economist on
Parnell’s staff, spoke into the silence. “Sir, even if we nationalize the
contractors and suppliers to enforce cost controls, this would completely
bankrupt us. No bank on Earth would touch us with a ten foot pole. Our economy
would tank within a year; massive unemployment, rampant crime, riots.” He shook
his head. “We might save the planet from aliens, but we would end up a failed
state. It would turn America into a massive prison with Tom here as the
warden.”

Silence fell again on a sobered room.

Charles Gray broke the silence. “We’re
talking about this as if the aliens would only be interested in attacking the
United States.” He looked around the room. “We have a whole planet full of
countries to work with. We didn’t send up the ISS missions on our own; we
spread the work and costs between ourselves, the Russians, the Japanese, the
Canadians and the Europeans.”

Parnell felt a surge of hope as Gray spoke.
He has the right idea, his scale is just off.
“Charles is right, Sam. We
just need to expand on it. Dividing the cost five ways still won’t work; it’s
not enough.”

“We need China,” Kelly said flatly.

“We need everybody,” Sam insisted.

Parnell sighed. “Everybody. Suddenly I’m
not so sure I like where this is heading.” He turned his head to look at Sam,
sitting to his right. “If we go down that road, we may not be able to come
back. Don’t they still claim we owe them money?”

“They can go suck eggs!” Kelly’s sudden outburst
had every eye in the room on him. “What are they talking about, a couple
Billion? We’ve given them ten times that in military support but they
conveniently forget that when they come calling with their hat in hand.” He
pointed a finger at Sam. "If we give them more money, they're just going
to waste it on magic beans, and you sure as hell can't put a military force in
their hands. We need this force under NATO command."

“And what are you going to tell the
Chinese?" Sam raised an eyebrow. "I'm no fan of giving money to the
UN either, but imagine what would happen if we went to the Chinese and asked
them nicely to give several Trillion dollars to NATO." He kept his
trademark deadpan expression as he continued. "They'd probably wonder if
we should be kept under observation for a few days, just to be sure we're not a
danger to ourselves or others."

Parnell nodded. “You won’t find me
disagreeing, Tom, but Sam is right: this has to happen, and we can't coordinate
this through NATO. We need an organization that everybody belongs to and there
just isn’t time to build one from scratch. We need to use what tools already
exist. NATO will have to 'encourage' the western financial contributors, and
China will do the same in the east.” He looked back to Sam. “Get me a meeting.”

Turtle Bay

Manhattan, New York

January 6
^th
, 2026

J
ess Sisulu came out from behind her desk.
No matter what
direction this meeting takes, let it not be said that I didn’t start it on a
friendly footing.
She smiled as her visitor was ushered in, noticing his
involuntary reaction to her appearance. In her thirty eight years of public
service – first in her homeland of Transkei, later in post-apartheid South
Africa - she had little need to rely on her looks but she didn’t begrudge their
effect.  

She shook his hand in the center of the
office. “Mr. President, please, won’t you have a seat?” She indicated an
arrangement of lounge chairs to one side of her office.

Parnell sat down, looking around him. “Very
nice, Madam Secretary General. They’ve really captured the look of the fifties
in here.”

Jess smiled. “I believe
maintained
is a more accurate description. I’m pretty sure this paneling was here since
the building was completed. It still smells faintly of cigars if you stand
close enough; I was told once that Dag
Hammarskjöld
stocked up on Cubans when things were heating up
.”
I
can chat all day if you don’t want to come to the point. I know what brought
you here,
she thought.

The American president brought his gaze
back from the décor to look at his host. “I suppose you have some idea of why
I’m here…”

“I imagine it has something to do with the
startling news out of Oxford?”

Parnell nodded. “We were hoping to keep
things under wraps for the time being to avoid panic but when an entire lecture
hall filled with students conducts a teleconference with aliens…” He spread his
hands. “Half the world thinks it’s just another tabloid headline, the other
half is stocking up on water and dry goods.”

“And assault rifles, no doubt.” Jess
smiled. “My people tell me that the NRA website has crashed,” she continued as
the President nodded. “It’s only been a few short hours and the world is going
mad. We need to show them that we are taking this seriously.”

“We need to show the world that we are
taking appropriate, concrete action to protect our planet from outside
aggression,” Parnell jumped in.

Jess looked at the President for a long
moment, sensing that something was not being said. “Are you aware of evidence
beyond what was discovered at Oxford?” She leaned forward. “You speak of
aggression, but the video link merely showed an alien walking past the camera a
few times before he heard Dr. Colbert’s voice. At that point, he disabled the
camera. What else do you have?”

Parnell didn’t hesitate; he had obviously
decided beforehand that he would reveal his knowledge if pressed. “We have
video evidence of equipment being destroyed by armed individuals. These
creatures want Mars all to themselves. How long before they decide the same about
Earth?”

“Why do I get the feeling that you have
come here to press your own idea of
appropriate concrete action
?” Jess
asked.

“Probably because I have.” The American was
certainly frank about it. “Are you familiar with the Defense Advanced Research
Projects Agency?”

“Typically referred to as DARPA?” Jess had
been briefed on them as part of the weekly intelligence roundup.

Parnell nodded. “They’ve been working on
designs for a space-based combat fleet for several years now. I don’t think any
of them ever expected it to be taken seriously but events have overtaken us.
They have an impressive series of designs for three groups of carriers and
escorts but…”

Jess knew the next step in this dance. “But
the costs of building such a fleet would be ruinous.”
So that’s it,
she
mused.
I knew what brought you here; now I know what you want from the UN.
“You wish to use us to coordinate the effort.” Her mind was racing through the
implications, both near-term and long. “No country will give you a single
dollar if they think it goes to a unilateral response, no matter how
necessary.”

Parnell sat forward in his chair, resting
his elbows on his knees. “We could pay for the fleet ourselves, but it would be
an extreme difficulty,” he said with the air of a man making a minor
concession.

Jess schooled her features to show nothing
of what went on in her mind.
He wouldn’t come here unless they really needed
the money. No American president would ever bring this plan here if he could
act on his own. Paying for such a fleet might be possible but it would destroy
them in the end.
“The best option would likely be to share the total costs
based on each member nation’s GDP,” she said.

“Our thoughts exactly,” agreed Parnell.
“Even if that nation only pays a few million dollars, every bit will help. It
should help to keep the planet’s economies from self-destructing.”

And if you tried on your own and failed,
thought Jess,
we would all have to learn a new
language when our new neighbors get here.
A sudden thought prompted her.
“The fleet will be a permanent trust of the UN of course. The rest of the world
will hardly be keen on paying to provide the United States with such a potent
force.”

The American looked as though he had been
expecting this. “As this fleet is proposed and designed by us, we believe it
should be led by an American,” he stated evenly.

Jess nodded. “Led by an American general
officer, seconded to duty as a UN officer.” She saw the unmistakable tells of a
man who believes he has won and she finished her proposal. “The commanders of
the three carrier groups to be commanded by general officers and staff from the
three remaining nations of the ISS group.” She could see that this was not
being received well but she still plunged ahead with the final idea; one which
had just crystalized for her. “The fleet captain should be a general officer
from the Chinese military.”

“How the hell do you expect such a
hodgepodge of different languages to work in combat?” Parnell was scraping the
bottom of the barrel with that excuse and had to know it.

“The same way it works when you operate
with NATO. The working language of the fleet will have to be English and I’m
sure the nations who are going to be providing their hard-earned capital will
be able to find plenty of competent personnel who speak English.”
And the
Chinese own a large portion of your national debt,
she thought, looking
down at the coffee table. She looked back up at Parnell. “There is one more
thing,” her tone was darker.

“What?” Parnell looked guarded.

“I will need your support to sell this to
the General Assembly; we need a firm commitment from everyone for money and
material support. We will need all of the diplomatic pressure that you can
bring to bear and,” she paused for a moment, taking a deep breath, “and, God help
us, force.”

“We've already been in touch with the PRC.”
Parnell sighed. "They will support this measure. The moment it passes the
vote downstairs, troops from both our countries will be boarding
transports."