Paranormals (Book 2): We Are Not Alone (23 page)

Only a small percentage, which included Michael Takayasu, kept their cool, but only barely. He looked over at Mark, who was already looking back at him, wide-eyed. He then glanced over to Powerhouse, who was likewise awestruck; Pendler just looked confused.

Several thoughts tried to form in Michael’s mind before settling on a simple,
Whoa!
Having lived in a world of superhumans had inured him to things previously thought impossible, but still ... real, honest-to-God aliens from another world? Could this
be
? Sure, most people knew about the signals SETI had been listening to since the White Flash ... but to have extraterrestrials
here
!

It took Brunn the better part of a minute to get everyone to shut up so Panettiere could proceed. And when she did, her next words were simple.

“This,” she proclaimed with flair, “is the transmission.”

She tapped the tablet computer again, and what sounded like male voices began playing from the speakers. Judging solely by their timbre, they could have easily been mistaken for human, which was both exciting and disconcerting to the group as a whole.

“Is that Russian?” someone in the back asked.

“Are they speaking Russian?” someone from the front asked at almost the same time.

Panettiere shook her head. “Negative. This issue has been investigated, both when it was first detected years ago and again last night. As familiar as it sounds, as similar as the cadences and inflections might be, the language is definitely
not
 Russian. But ...” she added with another touch of drama, “hold on to that thought.” She smiled knowingly to Captain Brunn as the audio continued.

“Sure sounds like Russian to me,” Powerhouse commented in the meantime; Pendler nodded in agreement.

Mark disagreed, “I think it’s closer to Polish, maybe.” Michael glanced at him, but he wasn’t being truculent with Powerhouse for once. “My mother’s family was from Poland. My grandmother spoke it some.” He shook his head. “Nah, I guess not. Kinda like it, though ...”

Michael had only listened to most of this with half an ear. Something about the speech was nagging him, too. Not like he’d heard it before, as Mark had thought, but something about its sounding Russian; it was triggering a feeling close to déjà vu. What was it ...?

And at that point, one of the voices on the recording said something that sounded pretty damn close to the name “Steve.”

Wait, wait! Hadn’t Vortex’s first email about the “new recruit” mentioned something about Russia?

Then the other voice in the conversation said it again: “Steve” — pronounced closer to “stee-ef” with their accent, but still hard to miss now that he was paying closer attention.

And just in case he had any doubts, Mark leaned closer to him and whispered, “Did he just say ‘Steve’?” Michael cocked an eyebrow at his partner to indicate
Interesting, huh?

The recording came to an end, and Panettiere spoke up. “That,” she said, “was the raw transmission.
This
 is what SETI’s paranormal translator has to say about it; he was asked to create this translation in a hurry, so this is a rough, close-to-literal interpretation.”

She tapped the tablet a few times, and the transmission started over from the beginning — but this time, the words for SETI on the screen behind her disappeared, and a running text took their place, allowing the crowd to follow along.

Now the words had a different effect on the audience, ranging from excitement to apprehension. It wasn’t a perfect transcription, as literal translations rarely were, but the gist was more than clear: According to SETI, the voices talked about things like stasis fields; “flying up and down” and contact from the surface; something called “prolight” technology and our not having it — and their erroneous belief that we couldn’t hear them. Talk of “convert” activity; a phrase that meant either “caped” or “cloaked” figure, and his being more than something called “Taalu-tek,” which had no literal translation but might mean “humanoid”; eating of food and resistance to harm from it; finally, the double mentioning of the name “Steve.”

And the biggest kicker of all: A word that meant whirlwind or maelstrom ... or
vortex
!

Mark and Powerhouse turned toward Michael at the same time, each of them opening their mouths to speak. Michael quickly waved them to silence, nodding to indicate that he caught it, too. They both, reluctantly, backed down.

When the recording ended the second time, Brunn stepped forward. “Now you can see why we prohibited any electronic discussion of this meeting. These ‘people’ think we can’t hear them, but
we
are not going to make the same mistake.”

“Wait,” said someone behind Michael. “If they’re really aliens, with spaceships and everything, how do we know that’s enough? They’ve obviously got stealth technology for their ships, right? How can we know they aren’t listening in on us right now?”

“We can’t, Ensign,” Brunn admitted. “But this transmission suggests their guard is down. We want to
keep it
that way. Avoiding cell phone or email chatter gave us somewhere to start.”

Panettiere picked it back up. “This,” she reiterated, “is potentially
beyond
exciting news! But ... as I’m sure many of you here are thinking, those in authority — and this includes the President himself — are concerned that the ‘Arthians’ have chosen stealth over open contact with us. To be fair, reconnaissance is an understandable desire on their part, but
we
want as much of the same as we can get. SETI is working alongside the military and operating on high alert for any more Taalu real-time transmissions. In the meantime, meetings like this synod are taking place at the NSA, FBI, and the CIA.  The PCA has been included in this critical loop, since our paranormal agents may prove vital in the unfortunate event of conflict with the Taalu. SETI’s translator also believes that ‘convert’ might be
their
 word for ‘paranormal,’ which makes this doubly crucial.”

“Now,” Brunn said, taking back the lectern, “all of this was in motion
before
our rash of rogue breakouts occurred. In the history of the PCA, we’ve never had two breakout attempts within the same week, let alone
three
in a single eight-hour period. So the natural question becomes: Are the aliens and breakouts related? Because if they’re not, that’s an awfully big coincidence in my book. Remember the issue of
stealth
assistance from the outside.”

Lots of heads nodded all around the room.

“As you can see,” Brunn went on while clicking up a specific set of text on the screen above, “the aliens twice mention the name ‘Steve.’ This is
not
a Taalu word that just happens to sound like English. According to SETI’s translator, this
is
the name ‘Steve’ ...”

Powerhouse and Shockwave again peeked over at Michael; he gestured for them to stay eyes-front.

“It’s been suggested that this ‘Steve’ must be a contact here on Earth, and I agree with this assessment. It’s just too damned bad this alleged contact has such a common first name.” Brunn leaned forward over the lectern, like a politician driving a point home. “And this
still
isn’t the final twist.”

“Jesus,” Mark muttered under his breath, “what more could there be?”

Michael shushed him.

“Not half an hour ago,” Brunn stated as he gestured to the male officer Michael had not recognized earlier, “Lieutenant Haryana was informed of the following: In spite of SETI’s repeated assurances that the aliens are
not
speaking Russian, right after the FBI had their own meeting about this, some Fed decided to cross-reference our computers for any new rogues of Russian heritage going active recently.” Brunn gave an exaggerated shrug. “I have no idea what they thought alien transmissions would have to do with our rogues, but this has everyone in an uproar, so I don’t really blame their left hand for not knowing what our right hand is doing. But what makes it
really
interesting is the result of that cross-check ...”

Brunn cleared the lines of text with “Steve” from the screen, and replaced them with a headshot of an odd-looking young man. The photo was a little out of focus, but that did not hide the subject’s strange features.

“Our FBI friend found this photo in our system. It was evidently part of its own search parameter, which included tags for both ‘rogue’ and ‘Russian.’ It seemed to fit exactly what the FBI agent was looking for, so he inquired about the strange absence of information linked to it ... and that’s when we learned that we have
no idea
where this photo came from. We have no profile associated with it, no date of entry into our computers, no user-ID connected to its search parameter. Nothing useful at all. So where the hell did it come from?”

Although it sounded like a rhetorical question, Brunn paused long enough for anyone to shout out their theories. When none were offered, he continued.

“Now, the PCA knows better than most how the Paranormal Effect can and has physically altered its recipients. Under ordinary circumstances, we would assume this is just another individual who has gone paranormal, and was unlucky enough to get his face scrambled in the process. But just like the timing of the breakouts,
that
face showing up in our system now, and under such bizarre circumstances,
cannot
be a coincidence.

“So, people, here’s my personal theory at this point: The aliens arrive under stealth and decide to make limited contact with us. They select someone, for reasons unknown at this time, who happens to be named ‘Steve.’ Then our mysterious ‘Steve’ decides to do some background checking on
this
alien,” Brunn jabbed his thumb over his shoulder toward the photo, “and whoever ‘Steve’ is, he has access to the PCA mainframe.
Skillful
access, I should add, as we’ve been unable to trace or backtrack this photo’s origin.

“And let’s not forget the breakouts! How all of this is tied together — the aliens; their alleged contact; this photo; and rogues getting sprung left and right — we have no idea. But we
do
know that at least one of the aliens has been down here, probably this guy, and that’s a place to start. So at the risk of sounding like a typical government lackey from some science-fiction movie ... boys and girls, we need to
find this alien.

“All paranormal agents with extrasensory abilities are being called in. Canine and Avian, that’s why you’re here today — maybe your dog or bird friends can help us out. All other agents, you are to keep this as electronically quiet as possible, but do whatever you have to, anything you can think of. We want the aliens ...” He punched up the previous section of text so that it appeared right over the alleged alien’s face. “... and we would
love
to talk to this ‘Steve’ fellow. Any questions on this matter can be directed to myself or Panettiere. Any interdepartmental inquires, go through Lieutenant Haryana. Dismissed.”

The room rumbled as people immediately stood and started chattering in earnest.

Mark turned to Michael, and even included Powerhouse, as he commented, “Well, with all this craziness, maybe Brunn’s too distracted to chew our asses off right now.”

Michael offered him a courtesy grin, but his attention was focused on the screen, on the image of the mystery man and the text superimposed over his strange face.

Vortex
.

“So ...” Mark asked, “... what do we do, Mike?” Powerhouse and Pendler were also looking to him for their next move.

Michael turned his phone back on, checked to make sure that Brunn and the others weren’t looking, snapped a photo of the suspect’s image above, and started typing an email.

SHINING STAR AND THE PARANORMALS

Callin launched himself from the lead Taalu ship as he had done the past two evenings. He was pleased that they had finally compiled a comprehensive enough database on this planet’s English language (how strange, it seemed to him, that a world that had accomplished limited space travel and could split the atom still spoke so many different languages!). He had spent the better part of this day receiving a phrenic impression of English — he might never speak like a true native, but it would function far better than the translator.

Indulging Larr, who was still perturbed at him for contacting the ship from the surface, Callin dampened his energy sheath to minimal levels, just enough to keep himself steered true through the buffeting atmosphere and to control his velocity. He may be smaller than any aircraft, Larr had lectured, and his aura may confuse the simpler detection technologies, but why draw such vibrant attention if he could avoid it?

As he descended toward Steve’s headquarters, he considered his expectations for tonight. He should probably offer to demonstrate more of his abilities before asking for some “field work” as a new superhero. He would observe the native people in general, and Steve in particular, a few days more. Then he would decide if it was time to reveal his true nature ... or risk moving on to another world.

As Callin braked hard for his touchdown, he could barely make out Steve, waiting for him below — he was in full Vortex attire once more, his black cape pulled forward over his shoulders, rendering him well camouflaged in the shadow of the building; it was only Callin’s own glow reflecting off the metallic shimmer of his Vortex uniform that gave him away. Perhaps this was an indication that he was not “Steve” tonight?

With a soft landing, Callin smiled and approached him. “Vortex,” he said with respect. “Good. I had hoped we would venture out this evening.”

Vortex nodded in return, but it was far more subdued than the usual exaggerated head movement these people had adopted. Was Steve trying to mimic Callin’s own style? When Vortex spoke, however, he said, “You aren’t using your translator tonight, huh?”

“No,” Callin answered, a touch surprised by what seemed like a blunt tone of voice. Had the language imprint not gelled properly? Perhaps such mood shifts were normal for these people (that would be disconcerting). Or maybe this was simply Vortex’s “professional” demeanor? Regardless, when Vortex continued staring at him without speaking, Callin realized that his own clipped, curt reply could be considered uncivil. So he added, “I was using my translator as a guide, to make certain my English was acceptable. I have decided that it was inhibiting our conversations more than helping. If you will forgive some mistakes on my part, I wanted to try not using it tonight.” All of which strained the truth, but would have to do for now — so long as Vortex accepted it, of course.