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Authors: Steve Karmazenuk,Christine Williston

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ANCHOR

The World Ship Summit has announced who will be the new head of the Ship Survey Expedition: Colonel Margaret Bloom. Bloom is one of the top test pilots in the United States Air Force and is reputed to be one of the best aerospace engineers to come from Government service in years. Bloom is also the ex-wife of the late Professor Mark Echohawk, who was at the time of his death the head of the Ship Survey Expedition. The Expedition itself is set to resume later this week, once the new head of security at the Site and added patrols have been put in place.

♦♦♦

Bloom found herself back at Space Command in Houston, recent site of what she had thought would prove to be the end of her career.

 

“I should have hijacked a space station years ago.” She was ushered into a different office in a different wing of the Administration building across the small courtyard from Colonel Hays’ office. The corner of her mouth turned up in a sneer at the thought. He’d be shitting himself if he knew she was here. When her new Control Officer stepped into the office from a door behind the desk Bloom nearly shit herself as well. No lesser person than the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff presented himself. She rose to her feet, saluting immediately. His station alone demanded it. Here was the man who had ordered General Harrod to Concord Three; the man who’d ordered her flight group into Australian airspace fifteen years before. The Chairman had kept his position through four consecutive Presidential Administrations run by three different political parties. He was a hero of War Three, and had been a trusted advisor to three of those four Presidents, and a respected, trusted and often controversial public official.

 

“Lieutenant-Colonel,” He said, “Please, sit down.” He opened a file which held an optic slip and a sealed envelope. He placed the slip into his console and watched the screen a moment, keying something with deliberate precision into the console.

 

“Given your reputation and record,” he said, “I suspect you’d rather not stand on ceremony.” He slid the envelope across his desk. She opened it. Inside were two gold clusters.

 

“Therefore, consider yourself promoted to full Colonel.” Bloom actually gasped. She’d held the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel for the better part of ten years. After her second career court-martial before that, she’d never expected to advance farther than Major. Being promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel had been a shock. That she was now a full Colonel, with the privileges and duties implied therein, was inconceivable. More so, the detached analyst in her head remarked, than the existence of an alien Ship thirty-two kilometres across being buried in the New Mexico desert.

 

“I…I’m…honoured…”

 

“More thanks than I was told to expect,” The Chairman said, “Colonel Bloom I want to make something clear. Although you are assigned to the World Ship Summit, although the Ship Survey Expedition will probably be your command under them, you are still an Officer in the United States Air Force. And as such you will report your activities to my office, through General Harrod for the duration of your tenure. You will report all discoveries made about the Ship and you will be expected to carry out any orders you are given through this office; even if those offers are in conflict with orders given you by the Ship Survey Expedition. The worst you’ll face from them is expulsion from the SSE. Disobey me and you will face your last court-martial. I’ll make the charges of hijacking an orbital station look like a jaywalking conviction. Your primary concern is the national security of these United States. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes Sir,” The Chairman turned back to his desk and keyed a command into his console. A printer on the other side of the desk began shooting out sheets of paper into a tray facing Bloom.

 

“Among the burdens of command associated with being a full Colonel are certain facts, certain pieces of information and certain orders kept secret from the lower ranks,” The Chairman explained, “The file printing now contains a summary of that information. For now absorb the basics. As you’ve recently come from a posting at Groom Lake, I’ll assume you know the penalties for divulging top-secret information. You’ll be briefed in full later. You can take the printout to the study behind me. The printout stays in there when you are done.” Bloom collected the papers as they finished printing. The Chairman continued speaking.

 

“For expediency’s sake we have to get you to New Mexico as soon as possible. You’ll be briefed in full on your orders for that post after you’ve set up your command. I’ve decided that your command will also incorporate Site security, so the SSE will be moved into the base there. Fort…Arapaho, I believe it’s called. Congratulations, Colonel.”

 

“Thank you, Sir,” was all Bloom could think of to say.

Life is in constant motion. It is always evolving, forever changing. With change comes adaptation. With adaptation, comes learning. The price of failure to adapt has always been death. No greater change had happened throughout Human history than the discovery of the Ship. No greater opportunity for Humanity to learn, to grow. No greater potential for Humanity to fail, to die.

 

NINE

DISCOVERIES

 

Major Jack Benedict sat at his desk in the offices of Fort Arapaho. He was reviewing reports by Laguna Police Chief Sharon Raven, who had been assisting the military police with their investigation into the slayings of Professors Echohawk and Scott. Francis George Franck had indeed been a member of Gabriel Ashe’s cult, but there was nothing beyond that to tie the United Trinity Observants to the killings. Benedict finished reading the Police Chief’s report and closed down the screen. There was a note at the end of the report requesting that he linx her once he was through. Benedict slipped his earpiece on and keyed in Raven’s linx address. An instant later her image appeared onscreen in three-quarter profile. She looked at the screen momentarily before turning her gaze away again. Background noise filtering in over the linx made Benedict realize she was driving.

 

“Major Benedict,” She said, “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

 

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Benedict asked.

 

“No, right now we’re just patrolling around town,” She said, “I had to get away from my desk for a while. You read my report?”

 

“Yeah,” Benedict replied, “Ashe’s one clever son of a bitch.”

 

“Then you agree he’s behind this?”

 

“Him or someone high up in his organization,” Benedict said, “Looks like Francis George Franck was basically riled up by Ashe’s preaching. I’m willing to bet that was the idea.”

 

“We have to find some way of getting him,” Raven said, “We can’t prove that Franck was given specific instructions by Ashe; no witnesses to speak up. I know the Feds have people inside his organization, but they aren’t talking. What about the gun used in the attacks?”

“Bethesda’s got the gun,” Benedict replied, “No serial numbers and the ballistics registry’s turned up negative.”

 

“The ballistics registry is voluntary.”

 

“Thank you, NRA.”

 

“Even if the gun shows up in the registry we’d only be able to tie it to the original owner, if any, and trace it back through any crimes it was used in. While that might give us a chain of suspects to follow back to the person who supplied Franck with the gun, there’s no guarantee that it would lead to someone in the United Trinity.”

 

“More good news,” Benedict added, “I just caught a newsflash from INN. The World Court has turned down Washington’s request to expel the United Trinity Observants from the World Ship Preserve.”

 

“Theywidt ere going to wind up regretting that decision,” Raven said.

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

“Experience,” Raven said, “I used to be a Fibbie; worked with ViCAP, the Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. Groups like this almost always wind up causing or being the cause of worse and worse trouble.”

 

“Wonderful,” Benedict growled, “I’m sure that’s just the sort of thing the new base commander’s going to want to hear.”

 

“Yeah…I heard she’s coming in today.”

 

“That’s right; Colonel Bloom.”

 

“I read in your jacket you two served together a few times.”

 

“A few times; she was my wing commander in Australia and she was Station Commander aboard Concord 3.”

 

“What can you tell me about her?”

 

“She’s a hard-ass. She’s had two court-martials; one for disobeying direct orders during the Australian Conflict, the other for assault with deadly intent. She was exonerated both times and the record expunged.”

 

“Impressive.”

 

“She’s always had a problem with authority and despite a natural command ability of her own, she’s avoided it as much as possible; even dodged squad leader when she was still a fighter jock. But when she
is
in charge, she’s the best you can have.”

 

“I thought she was commander of C-3.”

 

“Orbitals always have temporary command staff,” Benedict said, “And they’re almost always flyers who need to be kept busy when they’re grounded.”

 

“Is that what you think she’s doing here?” Raven asked, “Killing time?”

 

“No. She’s an engineer. Most flyers have some engineering skills. She has a lot of them. She’s going to roost.”

 

“Any idea why Bloom was selected?” Raven asked.

& nbsp;

“Apparently, Bloom’s attracted the right kind of attention,”

♦♦♦

Santino’s group had been assigned to work on the problem of how creation beliefs would be affected by the Ship’s presence on Earth these past sixty million years. It was a burdensome question for many reasons. Although some religions, such as Catholicism, had long ago accepted that the creation stories and myths were for the most part allegorical tales not to be taken literally, Humanity’s exalted status among God’s creations was now called into doubt. Had God been revealed to the aliens who built the Ship in some other manner? If so in what way? What was
their
place in the grand scheme of things? The problems inherent here lent themselves to other religious aspects being explored, such as Gaiansm, Messianism and Reincarnation, which although anathema to Catholics, Muslims and Jews, was an integral part of Hindu, Buddhist and some Aboriginal belief systems.

 

The free flow of ideas thrown about the room became more heated and more confrontational as the morning wore on into the afternoon. A debate waged after lunch after it was suggested the Ship may have been some kind of seeder vessel designed to populate barren worlds; a terrifying possibility that had generated a long argument. All the world’s beliefs would become invalid if that was the case. In the silence that followed that exchange it seemed to Santino that his fellow delegates had more questions than they had possible answers for. It wasn’t that they were attempting to fit the Ship in to their creation myths, or explain the Ship away. Their task was to discover how the Ship affected the lessons taught in the creation stories; to determine whether those lessons remained valid or not. Many faithful of most religions had been thrown into crisis by the Ship; many more were questioning outright not just the validity of their chosen religions, but the very existence of God. The expressions on the faces of the delegates gathered around this table and no doubt every table in every conference room reserved for the purposes of Vatican IV showed that even the leaders and scholars of these religions were not entirely immune to the same doubts, the same questions.

 

“I think that the worst thing,” Rabbi David Abrams announced to the group during that ponderous, introspective silence, “The absolute worst thing about this whole business is that the Scientologists are having a field day.” Everyone laughed; a needed ejaculation of mirth that broke through the theological tension felt by everyone. The mood was lightened by the exchange, but the “let’s talk about everything but what we’re supposed to be talking about” murmur of conversation filling the room convinced everyone that little else would be accomplished today. Not that they’d expected to wrap up their committee’s business on the second day of the conference. Nevertheless it was Abrams, whose gently persuasive manner and cast-iron religious conviction had turned him into the group’s unofficial leader, who made it official:

 

“People, I really think we should call it a day,” He said, “We’ve overwhelmed ourselves with ideas, problems, questions and arguments. What we should all do now is go home, or back to the dormitories anyway, relax and digest what’s gone on here today. Or better yet, we should take in the sites. We are in Rome, after all: one of the oldest, most beautiful cities on our planet. Above all else, we can’t let our questions, doubts and insecurities about the Ship cloud our judgment, or our faith. We Believe,”

 

He capitalized that last word, by pausing, letting them absorb the strength of the statement, then continued: “Perhaps what we Believe is wrong. It’s a point we all have to concede; we’ve had the argument about whose beliefs are right and wrong among ourselves for millennia. But
that
which we believe in, God, the Almighty Creator, will always be a part of who we are. Even if the Buddhists are right and the only God is the God within; we Believe, we have Faith. That Faith can and must be allowed to sustain us.” They were silent, all pondering his words. Finally, the day’s conference broke up for good and everyone began leaving.

 

“That was impressive Rabbi,” Santino said as the two men passed on their way out of the conference hall.

 

“It’s just common sense,” Abrams demurred, “Which all too often has no relevance to religion.”

Santino chuckled.

 

“I have to agree with you there,” He said and then a little more bitterly added, “That’s certainly been my experience.”

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