Leviathan

Contact has not been made

“Dad? What was Ahmoo … ow … moo …”

“Oumuamua,” I finished for him. “It came from outside the Solar System more than a century ago. By the time we spotted it, it was gone. Just a chunk of rock.”

“But this one’s aliens?”

“We’re not sure, Kyle. It changes course, though. We’ll find out soon enough.”

“Is it coming here?” His ten-year-old voice wavered as if asking about a ghost.

“No, buddy. Whatever it is, it is heading for Jupiter. We’ve got a ship there — the Hai Hu. They report to me every day.”

Kyle frowned. “But what do they want from us?”

I shook my head and forced a grin. “I wish I knew.”

He didn’t need to know that I was terrified. Not just for him — for everyone.

*****

Camilla burst into my office, her dark hair tied back today. “Time for iron pants to call?”

My finger wagged at her. “You are awfully brave, considering Commander Ndiaye is only 40 light-minutes away. What did Sousa want?”

She chuckled. “The Brazilians think they should be in charge of first contact.”

My eyes rolled. “Not my fault the United States is the only country that still has people on board ships. Robots can’t do everything.”

“Union of the Americas, Mr Chairman. You are the Chairman of the Union of the Americas,” Camilla chided me with a slight grin.

“Yeah, right. The Union.”

“They also think the aliens want to trade cultural artefacts.”

I sighed. “Everyone has a theory. Enslave us, eat us, preach to us. No one knows.” I reached forward to acknowledge the incoming call from the Hai Hu.

The screen lit up, and Commander Ndiaye appeared. “Mr Chairman,” she said, her weathered face filling the display. “The Hai Hu’s HD telescope picked up this.” The image flickered, revealing an endless, off-white surface marked with regular patterns. “We don’t know what it is,” she continued, “but it’s definitely artificial.” You could see unnatural lines and angles etched on it and symbols that had to be some language.

The camera panned. “The scale is… beyond anything we imagined. The ship’s a half-sphere, 120,000 kilometres wide.”

Camilla gasped. “Did she say —?”

“Bigger than Earth,” I murmured. Jupiter itself was only 140,000 kilometres. What did beings capable of building that want with us? It could probably destroy Earth easier than I could kick over an anthill.

The report droned on, but I wasn’t listening. The future preoccupied me. Would history remember me as the leader who handled first contact — or the fool who got us all killed?

*****

Days passed with no change. Leviathan, as the press called it, loomed closer to Jupiter, silent and indifferent. The thing ignored our communications from Earth and the Moon’s distributed antenna array. My orders to the Hai Hu were to avoid beaming anything at it lest it be misinterpreted.

In the situation room, we watched Leviathan’s rendezvous with the gas giant. Ndiaye’s video streamed live, albeit with a 40-minute delay. “Mr Chairman,” she said, her voice tense, “this thing is massive. We can’t see its edges.”

Someone shouted behind her, and the screen switched views. Jupiter’s clouds were moving — no, being sucked towards Leviathan. The alabaster flat surface rippled as it consumed the gas like a pond drinking rain.

“We think it’s refuelling,” Ndiaye said. “But the volume is … staggering. Helm, back us away. Maximum acceleration.”

No one in the situation room spoke, but for the first time in my life, I understood why they say you can smell fear. We were all staring at the screen like figures in a wax museum. Glancing back at the science adviser, I said, “Are we in danger?”