Retired Col. Frank R. Bannister, founder and president of the Glimmerings Society, which investigates moonrider sightings and other paranormal events, warned yesterday that we were running out of time. Bannister maintains that the government has been hiding the truth for years. He will lead a demonstration outside the capitol building tomorrow.

Popper Industries will offer a line of moonrider T-shirts for sale, beginning Monday. The shirts depict a squadron of lights and mottos like WATCH YOUR ROCKS and INVASION TUESDAY.

A consortium of animal rights groups issued a series of wide-ranging protests yesterday demanding that the World Council intervene to turn aside the Terranova Rock. Friends of Animals, headquartered in Jamaica, said that standing by and doing nothing is “every bit as barbaric…”

Senator Hiram Taylor (G-GA) stated today that “we’re a long way from knowing what really happened at Ophiuchi,” and that the government should wait until the facts are in before deciding what action to take. “If any.”

“We don’t know what they’re trying to accomplish,” the former German president said today after a press luncheon. “If there really are aliens involved, they may be conducting an experiment of some sort. We just don’t know, and I would be cautious about interfering until we have more information. Whoever did this seems to be at least at our level of technology, and possibly considerably higher. We have everything to gain and nothing to lose by waiting until we are sure what’s happening. Certainly, with a lead time of seventeen years, there is ample opportunity for consideration.”

SIKONIS WILL BE JUDGE IN HELLFIRE CASE

“Maximum George” Has History of Handing Out Stiff Penalties

The development of faster-than-light technology expanded humanity’s psychological as well as physical boundaries. During the early years of the twenty-first century, human security could be challenged only by lunatics, fanatics, and crazed politicians. That is, by other humans. Beyond Pluto lay only unbroken silence. Nobody even thought about it, let alone worried about any deep-space threat. Even the occasional deranged author who wrote about such things took none of it seriously. But when the Centaurus tossed off its restraints in March of 2171 and engaged Ginjer Hazeltine’s new engine, the world changed more than anyone could have imagined.

— Gregory MacAllister, “Aliens in the Attic”

Hutch was lounging at home when Peter’s call came in from Union. He was in his office. Papers were scattered around, displays lit up, data chips piled in a candy box. “We picked up a transmission from Origins. I thought you’d want to hear it.” Origins operated under the auspices of the International Science Agency, headquartered in Paris. “The message was sent to their ops center. Union sent a copy to us a few minutes ago.”

All incoming messages passed through a central communications center at Union, where they were relayed to the appropriate addressees. And also were frequently lifted as “information copies” to other agencies that might be interested. The practice was officially denied, but it happened nonetheless. And because everybody benefited, no one complained or tried seriously to get it stopped.

“Okay, Peter,” she said. “Thank you.”

It was flat-screen traffic. First the Origins Project seal, God’s arm stretched out toward Adam’s as in the Michelangelo, followed by the director, Mahmoud Stein. Stein was reputed to be brilliant, but in Hutch’s view he was stiff, formal, self-important, scripted. Everything he said sounded rehearsed.

He was average size, in his sixties, with dark hair and deep-set eyes. He wore a permanent squint. “David,” he said, “we’ve got another sighting.” A banner at the base of the screen indicated the AI was interpreting from the French.

She didn’t know who David was, but suspected he might be David Clyde, one of the assistant directors at ISA in Paris. “We didn’t get this one on record, either. We’re just not equipped for that sort of thing. But three of our people saw it. They were working on the tracks, outside, when it showed up. Big black sphere. No lights.” He was seated, upright in his chair, looking grave. “When it got close, within a kilometer, it stopped. Hovered. Just sat out there for almost five minutes. Our people called in and we tried to get something on it, but it was well down the tube and we just didn’t have time.” His eyes revealed a touch of annoyance. He didn’t like having to deal with moonriders. They were an intrusion, something not provided for in the job specifications. “I’ve talked to everyone involved. Separately, as you suggested. They all tell the same story. David, there’s no question they saw something. It took off finally like a bat out of hell, unquote.

“The incident took place near Ring 66. If it happens again, I’ll get back to you.”

WHAT WAS GOING on? Hutch let the transmission run a second time. Whatever was happening, it was beginning to scare her. An hour later, Senator Taylor called. “Sorry to bother you at home, Hutch. I couldn’t reach the commissioner. Truth is, I’d rather talk to you anyhow.” He looked unhappy. “I keep hearing all these stories about moonriders. I’m worried about Amy.”

So was she, although there seemed no basis for it. “There shouldn’t be a problem, Senator. There’s no report of any hostile action being taken by these things. Ever.”

“Except throwing asteroids around.”

“We don’t really have a sense yet what that was about.”

“It sounds crazy.”

“I know.”

“And malicious.”

“Senator, Valentina’s one of the best people in the business. Nothing’s going to happen to them.”

He hunched down, as if to avoid being overheard. “Can you guarantee it?”

Hutch shook her head. “You know I can’t,” she said, finally. “I couldn’t guarantee Amy’s safety if she were sitting in my living room. But I don’t think there’s any need to worry.”

His eyes got a faraway look. “I’m sorry I let her go.”

“Senator, do you want me to bring the Salvator back? I can do it.” It probably didn’t matter at this point. The mission had become almost redundant.

That disconnected gaze turned inward. “If you did that, she’d know I was responsible.”

“I wouldn’t tell her.”

“It wouldn’t matter. She’d know.”

“Your call, Senator. We’ll handle it as you wish.”

“How much longer will they be out there?”

“They’re scheduled to go to three more places: Arcturus, Capella, and Berenices.”

“Okay,” he said. “Try to keep them out of harm’s way.”

TEN MINUTES LATER, Asquith called. “We’re putting together an impromptu conference,” he said. “I thought you might want to be part of it.” He was seated in an armchair in his living room, holding a glass of wine in one hand. A notebook rested against his knee.

Tor was watching a ballgame. She excused herself, retreated to her office, closed the door, and brought the commissioner and his armchair up on her desktop. Charlie Dryden appeared, seated behind a table. And two women and a man, none of whom she knew.

Asquith made the introductions. The strangers were Shandra Kolchevska from Kosmik, Arnold Prescott from Monogram Industries, and Miriam Klymer from MicroTech. “Hutch,” he said, “you should be aware that we’ve gotten clearance to divert the Terranova Rock.”

“Good.” Politically, it was a move that couldn’t lose. “Have we decided how we’re going to do it?”

He turned to Kolchevska. “Shandra, do you want to explain?”

She appeared to be an energetic, forceful woman. Middle-aged and blond, she’d have been reasonably attractive except for her eyes, which were unreservedly competitive. “Ms. Hutchins,” she said, “it’ll be a team operation. Kosmik will be diverting two freighters from salvage.” Nod to Prescott. “They’ll install drive units. MicroTech is doing the systems design for us, and they’ll provide the AIs.”

Klymer picked up the explanation. “The freighters will be taken out to Terranova — ”

“Piloted by the AIs?”

“Oh, yes. Of course. The ships wouldn’t be safe. But we’re pretty sure we can get them there. Once they arrive, we’ll put them in front of the asteroid. Same course and velocity.”

“And,” said Prescott, “gravity will do the rest. The ships have sufficient mass to accelerate the asteroid. It’ll miss Terranova by a substantial margin.”

“Very good,” Hutch said. “I’m impressed.”

“Ms. Hutchins,” said Prescott, “when a contribution needs to be made, we can come together.”

She looked over at Dryden, wondering what role Orion Tours was playing.

Asquith delivered a broad, satisfied smile. “Hutch,” he said, “we want to announce the project at a joint press conference in the morning. Can you set it up?”

“Sure, Michael. I can do that.”

He looked at the others. “Is nine o’clock okay?” Nobody had a problem. “We’ll want you there, too, Hutch,” he said.

She turned to Dryden. “Charlie, can I assume Orion will also be part of the effort?”

“Yes, indeed.” He gave her a broad smile. “We’re contributing an engineering team to restore the freighters so they can make the flight.”

Asquith beamed and went on about how it was a shining moment for all of them. “A lot of people, and I’m thinking here especially of professional cynics like your friend MacAllister, would deny that major corporations can collaborate in a public-spirited enterprise.” He smiled at each of them in turn. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I think we can all take a bow.”

SO MUCH FOR a quiet evening at home. She had one of Eric’s staff members send out notifications for the press conference, explaining that it was concerned with the “recent events at Ophiuchi.” It prompted a quick flood of inquiries, which he duly passed to her. Had there been additional developments? More sightings? Online Express wanted to know if it was true that aliens had landed in Arizona.

Her workload had declined considerably as the missions dropped off. She had time now to wander the corridors, stroll through the grounds, listen to the fountains. She wondered where she’d be in another year. Sitting on the front porch, maybe, writing her memoirs.