The observatory had become a hive of activity in recent days, with so many astronomers coming and going at all hours to such a degree that the parking lot was often filled, with many cars parked haphazardly along the road leading up. Scott was manning a large optical telescope, while Luke sat in a chair to one side, chowing down on a lukewarm pizza that they’d had delivered a few hours ago, browsing on his phone with his free hand. “Did you see my contributions to the research? I think they’re quite critical,” said Luke, texting Scott the day’s seventh overly deep-fried meme of gray aliens making incomprehensible–to Scott’s generation at least–statements.
“Uh-huh,” murmured Scott vaguely, twiddling a knob on the telescope without looking up.
Luke picked up a few printed pictures scattered on the floor, depicting nothing but scattered white pixels against a grainy black background, with various equations and numbers scribbled on the margins with a pen. “So each ship is literally just one pixel? How have you guys been studying them for weeks?”
“Oh, that’s just light curves.” Scott looked up from the telescope. “Sometimes the pixel changes color a little bit. It’s because light keeps hitting it at different angles as it moves relative to the Sun, so we can guesstimate the shape and size. We think each ship is about 800 meters long and 100 meters wide. It’s very rough, but probably the right number of digits at least.”
“So not O’Neill Cylinders. Or Death Stars.” Luke’s tone of voice had the vaguest hint of disappointment. “Anyway, it’s probably a cylinder, right? Or a torus? Maybe a Bernal Sphere if they’re feeling spicy?” Luke studied the pixels closely, as if trying to somehow spot a pattern with the naked eye. “Anything that gives them that sweet spin gravity.”
Scott showed Luke a panel full of wireframe models in the draft of the First Contact Research Group’s report. “We think it’s likely oblong, but with a bulge in the middle reaching out to about 240 meters–”
“That would be the spin gravity ring,” Luke butted in.
“And some models tentatively show large planar protrusions–”
“Radiators!” interrupted Luke, “Those engines give off a lot of heat.”
“Er…how do you know all this? You don’t even read.”
Luke shrugged. “I dunno, YouTube mostly. There's a guy called Isaac--”
“Oh and, albedo readings suggest that the surface is shiny and metallic. So yeah, they’re probably ships.”
“Told you,” said Luke smugly.
“Yeah but,” Scott reached out to ruffle Luke’s hair, “you had no proof.”
As Luke indignantly fixed his hair, the loud droning of a helicopter became audible outside, quickly drawing closer until it was deafening. Luke and Scott scrambled to exit the building. Dozens of other astronomers were also pouring out of their respective buildings, necks craned to the sky. A Blackhawk was touching down in the middle of the parking lot, its rotors roaring as it kicked up dust and pebbles. Two Humvees rolled up, screeching to a halt next to it. At last the rotors came to a stop, leaving a tense silence in their wake. Scott shot a glance at Lauren, who was standing about twenty meters away, wide-eyed with disheveled hair.
The doors of the vehicles slid open and over half a dozen men with rifles and military uniforms jumped out, led by a tall, broad-shouldered man from the helicopter, a fifty-something with a graying buzz cut. “Everyone!” he shouted, “I’m General Steven Grey from the US Army, and this site is now under DoD supervision. I’m only gonna explain how this works once, so everyone better drop what they’re doing!”
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Grey and the other soldiers began herding everyone into the visitor center. “What the fuck is happening?” muttered Luke as they shuffled in in the midst of the chaotic crowd.
“Just try to be quiet and keep your head down,” whispered Scott back.
When everyone was in the visitor center, Grey went on, “Okay first, I’m gonna need to see some ID from everyone. Anyone who isn’t a US citizen will need to leave immediately.”
“But we work here!” protested a man in the back in a thick Chinese accent.
Boyle stepped forward. “Look, sir, this is a civilian observatory. You can’t just barge in like you own the place!”
“Your ID, sir,” said one of the soldiers, holding out his hand.
When the soldiers were done examining everyone’s ID, Grey said, “Sanders, Martinez, go escort these people off the mountain and set up a checkpoint.” Two soldiers left, taking over half the astronomers with them. Flanked by several soldiers standing ramrod-straight and completely silent, Grey turned to face the remaining observatory staff. He went on, “It’s come to the government’s attention that this observatory is central to an ongoing investigation into an alien fleet entering the Solar System as we speak, and will arrive within several weeks.”
“Based on what evidence?” piped up Luke. Next to him, Scott facepalmed, shaking his head slightly.
Grey turned to Luke impassively. “A little something we in my line of work like to call the Pizza Index. A surge in late-night deliveries to the Pentagon means we’re probably planning to invade someone. A surge in late-night deliveries to an emminent observatory? That means that a whole lot of astronomers are onto something…interesting.”
Grey cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’re hardly the only ones. Our intel tells us the National Defense University in China has been studying the fleet’s X-ray signature for a couple of weeks. They’ll probably figure out it’s artificial any day now, and others won’t be far behind. Most of our allies and about half our enemies have figured out there’s some funny business going on at this observatory.
“As I’m sure you’re all aware, this is an unprecedented situation in all of human history, and it’s thus imperative for national security that we retain information superiority. That’s why this observatory is now under DoD control. All telescopes and all personnel will be redirected to observing the approaching ships at all times until these aliens arrive. The federal government will pay your salaries and overtime. Needless to say, all activities conducted here will be done in absolute secrecy. Further, for the security of the project, you’re all to remain in the Flagstaff area for the duration of this project. Troops will be posted here to protect you in the meantime. Now, do we know where they’ve come from?”
“Tau Ceti, probably,” said Lauren, her expression tense and strained.
“Then contact whoever you have to contact, call in whatever favors you have to, just get the James Webb Space Telescope pointed at Tau Ceti 24/7. We need to know what kind of planet they come from and if there are any more ships on the way. Have you or have you not attempted to contact the aliens?” demanded Grey.
“No…not yet,” said an astronomer.
“Good. You will transmit any and all messages the federal government instructs you to, and no others.” Grey clapped his hands. “All right! Let’s go! Back to work!” He stopped, turned, and suddenly stared at Luke. “Who the hell are you anyway? You don’t look like an astronomer.”
“That’s my son,” said Scott, moving ever so slightly between Luke and the general.
“Well, he’s non-essential. I’ll have one of my men drive him home,” said Grey.
“I can walk,” said Luke tersely, giving Grey a distasteful look. Grey just shrugged and motioned him to the door.
The remaining astronomers trickled out into the parking lot to head back to the telescopes. Perhaps it was Scott’s imagination, but everyone seemed to be carrying themselves in a stiffer and more regimented manner now, more like soldiers marching to their posts. Scott’s and Lauren’s footsteps crunched on the gravel as thunderclouds gathered overhead. It didn’t matter–there would be plenty of work to do with non-optical telescopes or examining old data.
Scott put his arm around Lauren, not so much because of the chilly wind picking up as to have something warm and solid to hold onto. “This decade really is the gift that keeps on giving,” he muttered.
Lauren smiled wanly. “Interesting times.” She stood up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek.
