One of the many frustrating things was our inability to predict their arrival on earth. No matter how hard the scientists at S-4 tried, the concept of a scheduled time of arrival could never be conveyed. The concept of time simply was not the same in their world. A huge amount of money and resources had been poured into the project of communication but it was still in its infancy. It would take many more years, and billions of dollars, before a breakthrough could be achieved.
Almost immediately after the test firing of the BlackStar they arrived at Area–51. It was apparent from their demeanor, more than anything else, that something had disturbed them. When they had arrived in the past they usually wanted to touch and be near the humans. This time they were more reserved and did not come near like they usually did.
General Devin needed to find out what they knew and how they knew it. Dressed in a white gown and breathing mask, he was sitting beside ‘J’. Four of the aliens were standing behind J. They were probably communicating by telepathy from the looks of it. None of the strange sounds was being used. The general was going to try to use tape recordings of their language that had been pieced together.
He signaled the technician to ask "are your people upset?” J showed no comprehension. The other aliens were looking at him with their large black, unblinking eyes. It was unnerving. He tried again with a slightly different message ‘are your people angry?’ J stared with his unblinking eyes at the general and made a noise. The general quickly looked at the people behind him for a translation.
“Something like, ‘concern or distressed’ the technician replied.
“Why?” he asked ‘J’.
Again a series of noises, hissing, and clicking sounds.
“About machine or maybe mechanism”.
“On our planet?”
“Yes.”
“Tell him there is no need for concern. The mechanism is for defense.”
The technician took several seconds to translate the words into the proper sounds.
‘J’ clicked and hissed again.
“He said 'not sure or not believe', something along those lines.”
“Damn.”
“Sir?”
“Nothing. Tell him they have no need to worry.”
After translating, the response from ‘J’ was ‘you worry’.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” the general asked.
“I think it means that they are not worried but we should be. Why, I don’t know?” the technician replied.
All five of the aliens were looking at him; he wanted to choke the life out of the expressionless weird creatures. If they were so advanced why couldn’t they learn to use our language?
“This is useless. We have poured millions into translation technology and we still don’t know what the hell they mean. I would give my left nut for one straight answer that I could understand.”
The general left the cubicle and ripped off his mask and dropped his gown on the floor. Let the little shit die for all I care, he thought as he stormed out of the lab.
J was saying something when the door closed but he didn’t bother to wait for the translation. He cursed all the way to his office. He slammed the door causing the glass to rattle. He pulled open a cabinet drawer. A bottle of twenty year old single malt scotch greeted him like a long lost friend.
He poured two fingers into a water glass and downed it in one gulp. It was not the recommended way to enjoy a fine scotch. He poured another glass and downed it just as quickly. To hell with the scotch, to hell with the aliens and to hell with the damned President. He was sick of all of them.
He sat down and placed his head on the cold surface of the desk. So much work and just when he was almost ready to enjoy his greatest accomplishment, everything was coming unraveled. He poured another scotch but this time he let the warm alcohol with the smoky peat flavor swirl around in his mouth before letting it slide slowly down the back of his throat. He recapped the bottle and placed it back in the cabinet.
He needed to stop feeling sorry for himself and devise a plan of attack. Only a weak person sinks to self-pity and he did not get where he was by being weak.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Sarah walked out of her first formal staff meeting. It had gone well for the most part. She was somewhat surprised that Laura Posner, Station Head for the Midwest was the most openly antagonistic. They had always gotten along well and even had lunch together on several occasions. Today, Laura was sullen and brisk in her comments.
Sarah decided to not dwell on it, she was the Assistant Director and Laura would just have to deal with it. Willis Garner was perhaps the most surprised when she announced that he would be replacing her as head of the west section. She was halfway down the hall when Laura caught up to her.
“Steel, I would like to have a private meeting with you,” she said.
Sarah thought, ‘Steel’ rather than her first name. It was the first time Lara had ever called her by her last name.
“Ms. Posner, I would be more than happy to meet with you. Actually, we can do it right now if you have the time,” Sarah replied.
“Yes. I think that would be better than waiting.”
They walked in silence to Sarah’s new office. It was certainly larger than her old office and the view was better but it lacked warmth. She had not had time to take care of the creature comforts yet. Her pictures leaned against the wall waiting until she had the time to hang them.
“Now, what’s on your mind?” Sara said after she had sat down behind her desk.
Laura continued to stand.
“I want to know what this means to me exactly.”
“I’m not sure I understand the question. I thought I covered this in the meeting. Your job description doesn’t change one bit in terms of duties. The only difference is that you now submit your reports to me rather than Director Eller.”
“I have always reported directly to him. Now I have to report to you?”
“Well, Yes. I don’t see the problem, do you?”
“We have been equals and suddenly I report to you, and you don’t see the problem?”
“I’m afraid not. Laura, cut to the chase. What’s got a bug up your ass over this?”
“I was here at least four years before you came onboard. Four years of hard work. Now I find that you are supposed to be my supervisor,” she said with her fists balled on her hips.
“Laura, how much time you have in doesn’t count unless you are in a union. Eller picked me for whatever reasons he determined were best for the department. I didn’t ask for the job. I didn’t even know the position was going to be created until he asked me to take it. Your anger is misdirected,” Sarah said.
“No one works longer hours than I do. It’s not fair,” she said her voice starting to rise.
“It’s not how many hours you put in, but what you accomplish in those hours. I don’t doubt that you work more than me but the quality of the work has to be considered as well,” Sarah said.
“Quality? You don’t think I do quality work,” Laura said, her neck and chest were starting to show red blotches.
Sarah immediately realized that her choice of words was wrong, “Laura. Calm down. You’re working yourself up and you don’t want to say or do something foolish. If I didn’t think the quality of your work was excellent, I would be looking for a replacement for your position. I’m not.”
“Don’t do me any favors,” Laura spat out.
“You don’t realize it but I am doing you one right now. As the Assistant Director, I have all of the same powers and duties as Eller when he is out of the office. All of them,” she said, letting it sink in.