Hangar 17 at Langley Air Force Base in Virginia was locked in complete and rigid security. Outside, four armed marines guarded the perimeters of the building, and inside, three high-ranking Army officers stayed on alternate watches of eight hours each, guarding a sealed room inside the hangar. None of the officers knew what he was guarding. Besides the scientists and doctors who were working inside, there had been only three visitors permitted in the sealed chamber.
The fourth visitor was just arriving. He was greeted by Brigadier General Paxton, the officer in charge of security. “Welcome to our menagerie.”
“I’ve been looking forward to this.”
“You won’t be disappointed. Come this way, please.” Outside the door of the sealed room was a rack containing four white, sterile suits that completely covered the body.
“Would you please put one on?” the General asked.
“Certainly.” Janus slipped into the suit. Only his face was visible through the glass mask. He put large white slippers over his shoes, and the General led him to the entrance of the sealed room. The marine guard stepped aside, and the General opened the door. “In here.”
Janus entered the chamber and looked around. In the centre of the room was the spaceship. On white autopsy tables at the other side lay the bodies of the two aliens. A pathologist was performing an autopsy on one of them.
General Paxton directed the visitor’s attention to the spaceship.
“We’re dealing here with what we believe to be a scout ship,” General Paxton explained. “We’re sure it has some way of communicating directly with the mother ship.”
The two men moved closer to examine the spacecraft. It was approximately thirty-five feet in diameter. The interior was shaped like a pearl, with an expandable ceiling, and contained three couches, resembling recliner chairs. The walls were covered with panels containing vibrating metal discs.
“There’s a lot here we haven’t been able to figure out yet,” General Paxton admitted. “But what we’ve already learned is amazing.” He pointed to an array of equipment in small panels. “There’s an integrated wide-field-of-view optical system, what appears to be a life-scan system, a communication system with voice-synthesis capability, and a navigational system that, frankly, has us stumped. We think it works on some kind of electromagnetic pulse.”
“Any weapons aboard?” Janus asked.
General Paxton spread out his hands in a gesture of defeat. “We’re not sure. There’s a lot of hardware here we don’t begin to understand.”
“What is its source of energy?” “Our best guess is that it uses monoatomic hydrogen in a closed loop so its waste product is water that can be continually recycled into hydrogen for power. With all that perpetual energy, it has a free ride in interplanetary space. It may be years before we solve all the secrets here. And there’s something else that’s puzzling. The bodies of the two aliens were strapped into their couches. But the indentations in the third couch indicate that it was occupied.”
“Are you saying,” Janus asked slowly, “that one may be missing?”
“It certainly looks that way.”
Janus stood there a moment frowning. “Let’s have a look at our trespassers.”
The two men walked over to the tables where the two aliens lay. Janus stood there, staring at the strange figures. It was incredible that things so foreign to humanity could exist as sentient beings. The foreheads of the aliens were larger than he had expected. The creatures were completely bald, with no eyelids or eyebrows. The eyes resembled ping-pong balls.
The doctor performing the autopsy looked up as the men approached. “It’s fascinating,” he said. “A hand has been severed from one of the aliens. There’s no sign of blood, but there are what appear to be veins that contain a green liquid. Most of it has drained out.”
“A green liquid?” Janus asked.
“Yes.” The doctor hesitated. “We believe these creatures are a form of vegetable life.”
“A thinking vegetable? Are you serious?”
“Watch this.” The doctor picked up a watering can and sprinkled water over the arm of the alien with a missing hand. For a moment, nothing happened. And then, suddenly at the end of the arm, green matter oozed out and slowly began to form a hand.
The two men stared, shocked. “Jesus! Are these things dead or not?”
“That’s an interesting question. These two figures are not alive in the human sense, but neither do they fit our definition of death. I would say they’re dormant.”
Janus was still staring at the newly formed hand.
“Many plants show various forms of intelligence.”
“Intelligence?”
“Oh, yes. There are plants that disguise themselves, protect themselves. At this moment, we’re doing some amazing experiments on plant life.”
Janus said, “I would like to see those experiments.”
“Certainly. I’ll be happy to arrange it.”
The huge greenhouse laboratory was in a complex of government buildings thirty miles outside of Washington, DC. Hanging on the wall was an inscription that read:
THE MAPLES AND FERNS ARE STILL UNCORRUPT,
YET, NO DOUBT, WHEN THEYCOME TO CONSCIOUSNESS,
THEY, TOO, WILL CURSE AND SWEAR.
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Nature, 1836
Professor Rachman, who was in charge of the complex, was an earnest gnome of a man, filled with enthusiasm for his profession. “It was Charles Darwin who was the first to perceive the ability of plants to think. Luther Burbank followed up by communicating with them.”
“You really believe that is possible?”
“We know it is. George Washington Carver communed with plants and they gave him hundreds of new products. Carver said, ‘When I touch a flower, I am touching Infinity. Flowers existed long before there were human beings on this earth, and they will continue to exist for millions of years after. Through the flower, I talk to Infinity’ …”
Janus looked around the enormous greenhouse they were standing in. It was filled with plants and exotic flowers that rainbowed the room. The mixture of perfumes was overpowering.
“Everything in this room is alive,” Professor Rachman said. “These plants can feel love, hate, pain, excitement … just as animals do. Sir Jagadis Chandra Bose proved that they respond to a tone of voice.”
“How does one prove something like that?” Janus asked.
“I will be happy to demonstrate.” Rachman walked over to a table covered with plants. Beside the table was a polygraph machine. Rachman lifted one of the electrodes and attached it to a plant. The needle on the face of the polygraph was at rest. “Watch,” he said.
He leaned closer to the plant and whispered, “I think you are very beautiful. You are more beautiful than all the other plants here …”
Janus watched the needle move ever so slightly.
Suddenly Professor Rachman screamed at the plant, “You are ugly! You are going to die! Do you hear me? You are going to die!”
The needle began to quiver, then it moved sharply upward.
“My God,” Janus said. “I can’t believe it.”
“What you see,” Rachman said, “is the equivalent of a human being screaming. National magazines have published articles about these experiments. One of the most interesting was a blind experiment conducted by six students. One of them, unknown to the others, was chosen to walk into a room with two plants, one of them wired to a polygraph. He completely destroyed the other plant. Later, one by one, the students were sent into the room to pass by the plants. When the innocent students walked in, the polygraph registered nothing. But the moment the guilty one appeared, the needle on the polygraph shot up.”
“That’s incredible.”
“But true. We’ve also learned that plants respond to different kinds of music.”
“Different kinds?”
“Yes. They did an experiment at Temple Buell College in Denver where healthy flowers were put in three separate glass cases. Acid rock music was piped into one case, soft East Indian sitar music was piped into the second case, and the third had no music. A CBS camera crew recorded the experiment, using time-lapse photography. At the end of two weeks, the flowers exposed to the rock music were dead, the group with no music was growing normally, and the ones that heard the sitar music had turned into beautiful blooms, with stems and flowers reaching toward the source of the sound. Walter Cronkite ran the film on his news show. If you wish to check it, it was on October 26, 1970.”
“Are you saying plants have an intelligence?”
“They breathe, and eat, and reproduce. They can feel pain, and they can utilize defences against their enemies. For example, ter-penes are used by certain plants to poison the soil around them and to discourage competitors. Other plants exude alkaloids to make them unpalatable to insects. We’ve proved that plants communicate with one another by pheromones.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of that,” Janus said.
“Some plants are meat eaters. The Venus flytrap, for example. Certain orchids look and smell like female bees, to decoy male bees. Others resemble female wasps to attract the males to visit them and pick up pollen. Another type of orchid has an aroma like rotting meat to coax carrion flies in the neighborhood to come to them.”
Janus was listening to every word.
“The Pink Lady’s-Slipper has a hinged upper lip that closes when a bee lands, and traps it. The only escape is through a narrow passageway out the rear, and as the bee fights its way to freedom, it picks up a cap of pollen. There are five thousand flowering plants that grow in the northeast, and each species has its own characteristics. There is no doubt about it. It’s been proven over and over that living plants have an intelligence.”
Janus was thinking: And the missing alien is at large somewhere.
DAY THREE Bern, SwitzerlandWednesday, October 17th Bern was one of Robert’s favourite cities. It was an elegant town, filled with lovely monuments and beautiful old stone buildings dating back to the eighteenth century. It was the capital of Switzerland and one of its most prosperous cities, and Robert wondered whether the fact that the street carswere green had anything to do with the colour of money. He had found that the Berners were more easy-going than the citizens from other parts of Switzerland. They moved more deliberately, spoke more slowly, and were generally calmer. He had worked in Bern several times in the past with the Swiss Secret Service, operating out of their headquarters at Waisenhausplatz. He had friends there who could have been helpful, but his instructions were clear. Puzzling, but clear.It took fifteen phone calls for Robert to locate the garage that towed the photographer’s car. It was a small garage located on Fribourgstrasse, and the mechanic, Fritz Mand
The huge mothership floated noiselessly through dark space, seemingly motionless, travelling at 22,000 miles an hour, in exact synchronization withthe orbit of the earth. The six aliens aboard were studying the three-dimensional field-of-view optical screen that covered one wall of the spaceship. On the monitor, as the planet Earth rotated, they watched holographic pictures of what lay below, while an electronic spectrograph analysed the chemical components of the images that appeared. The atmosphere surrounding the land masses they passed over was heavily polluted. Huge factories befouled the air with thick, black, poisonous gases, while unbiodegradable refuse was dumped into landfills and into the seas.The aliens looked down at the oceans, once pristine and blue, now black with oil and brown with scum. The coral of the Great Barrier Reef was turning bleach-white and fish were dying by the billions. The Amazon rain forest was a huge, barren crater, where the trees had been
The Bundesanwaltschaft – Geneva,1300 HoursThe government minister seated in the inner sanctum of the headquarters of the Swiss Intelligence Agency watched the Deputy Director finish reading the message. He put the message in a folder marked Top Secret, placed the folder in the desk drawer and locked the drawer.“Hans Beckerman und Fritz Mandel.”“ Ja.”“No problem, Herr Minister. It shall be taken care of.”“ Gut.”“ Wann?”“Sofort. Immediately.”The following morning on his way to work, Hans Beckerman’s ulcers were bothering him. I should have pushed that reporter fellow to pay me for t
DAY FOUR -London,Thursday, October 18thLeslie Mothershed’s role model was Robin Leach. An avid viewer of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, Mothershed carefully studied the way Robin Leach’s guests walked and talked and dressed, because he knew that one day he would appear on that programme. From the time he was a small boy, he had felt that he was destined to be somebody, to be rich and famous.“You’re very special,” his mother would tell him. “My baby is going to be known all over the world.”The young boy would go to sleep with that sentence ringing in his ears, until he truly believed it. As Mothershed grew older, he became aware that he had a problem: he had no idea exactly howhe was going to become rich and famous. For a period of time he toyed with the
How long is this assignment going to take? Robert wondered, as he strapped himself into his first-class seat on the Swissair flight. As the plane rushed down the runway, its huge Rolls-Royce engines hungrily swallowing the night air, Robert relaxed and closed his eyes. Was it really just a few years ago that I took this same flight with Susan to London? No. It was more like a lifetime ago.The plane touched down at Heathrow at six twenty-nine p.m., on schedule. Rober made his way out of the maze, and took taxi into the sprawling city. He passed a hundred familiar landmarks, and he could hear Susan’s voice, excitedly commenting about them. In those golden days it had never mattered where they were. It was simply enough that they were together. They brought their own happiness with them, their own special excitement in each other. The
Robert took the bus into Richmond and began strolling the streets. Within five minutes he identified his trackers. There were two of them. One was on foot and one was in an automobile. Robert tried ducking into restaurants and shops and hurrying out back doors, but he was unable to shake them. They were too well trained. Finally, it was almost time to return to the Farm and Robert still had not been able to get away from them. They were watching him too closely. Robert walked into a department store and the two men took up positions where they could cover the entrances and exits. Robert went up the escalator to the men’s department. Thirty minutes later, when he came down, he was wearing a different suit, a coat and hat, talking to a woman and carrying a baby in his arms. He walked past his pursuers without being recognized.He was the
The following Monday morning Robert reported for his first day of duty at the 17th District Office of Naval Intelligence at the Pentagon.Admiral Whittaker said warmly, “Welcome home, Robert. Apparently you impressed the hell out of Colonel Johnson.”Robert smiled. “He’s quite impressive himself.”Over coffee, the Admiral asked, “Are you ready to go to work?”“Eager.”“Good. We have a situation in Rhodesia …”Working in the Office of Naval Intelligence was even more exciting than Robert had anticipated. Each assignment was different, and Robert was given the ones classified “extremely sensitive”. He brought in a defector who revealed Noriega’s drug-smuggling operation in Panama, exposed a mole working for Marcos in the American Consulate in Manila, and helped set up a secret listening post in Morocco. He was sent on missions to South America and to the East Indies. The only thing that disturbed him was the long separations from Susan. He hated to be away from her, and he missed her ter
When Robert broke the news to Susan, he said gently, “This is my last overseas assignment. After this I’ll be home so much you’ll get sick of me.” She smiled up at him. “There isn’t that much time in the world. We’re going to be together forever.” The chase after the Fox was the most frustrating thing Robert had ever experienced. He picked up his trail in Argentina, but missed his quarry by one day. The trail led to Tokyo and China and then Malaysia. Whoever the Fox was, he left just enough of a trail to lead to where he had been, but never to where he was. The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months, and always Robert was just behind the Fox. He called Susan almost every day. In the beginning, it was, “I’ll be home in a few days, darling.” And then, “Imight be home next week.” And then, finally, “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” In the end, Robert had to give up. He had been on the Fox’s trail for two and a half months, with no success. When he returned to Susan, s