War Room, Universal Resources

Marin County, California

February 21

Weaving his way through the crowds of scientists, techs, medical personnel, and civies, Jack joined Harry on the far side of the room at a large, glass workstation set off from similar workstations positioned in three rows on concrete risers climbing toward the back of the War Room.

Dr. Quinn Sanchez, astrophysicist, and UR's youngest and newest recruit, stood to the side of the holographic screen, arms crossed, a study in obsession. Her black-rimmed glasses, too big and chunky for her delicate features, sat perched on the tip of her nose. Her long, curling black hair framed a heart-shaped face rarely graced by a smile.

Engrossed by what was happening on the screen, she barely acknowledged Jack as he approached, and he shook his head.

If cut, I'm sure she'd bleed pure science.

Sitting in Quinn's ergonomically correct chair, his long, lithe frame perched on the seat's edge, Walter Bennett, UR's billionaire creator and sole owner, mirrored her intensity as his fingers danced across the computer's keyboard. Ignoring Jack, he glanced over his shoulder at the view screen on the wall and the woman who graced it.

"There," Walter said in his rich gravel-and-silk voice. "That should give you another seven minutes."

Astrophysicist Dr. Helen Ironhorse, Eddie Ironhorse's wife and colleague, glanced up from her observatory workstation, nodded, and went back to work. But not before Jack saw the disquiet in her dark-brown eyes; he shook his head.

What horrible thing has Eddie done now?

"I've been trying to reach you." Though Walter's gaze remained on Helen, there was no doubt to whom he was speaking. "Lose your phone?"

"No," Jack said, too tired and too buzzed to attempt a lie. "Just not that interested."

Walter's golden, lion-like eyes sparked with displeasure as he continued to run his fingers across the keyboard. "Jack, you're one of the most gifted scientists I've ever known. And that sixth sense of yours makes you invaluable to me. You're also my friend. So, you've got one minute to convince me why I shouldn't fire your ass."

Jack heaved a quiet sigh. He could think of a thousand reasons why Walter should get rid of him. Even he had to admit he'd become a distraction. His moodiness and short temper. Any affair with a scotch bottle that sauntered his way, it was the stuff of legend.

Some remorse, maybe even a little groveling, would go a long way to put him back in Walter's good graces. He might even keep his job. But it just wasn't in him.

Walter had lied to him. Baited him with the Bug Tussle to bring him in, and he was disappointed. No, he was pissed. He thought they were better friends than that.

Grabbing a nearby chair, he pulled it even with Walter's. "You look like shit."

Walter's gaze found the floor and stayed there. When he looked up again, Jack noted the skin tugged a little tighter around his eyes, the grooves at the corners of his mouth dug in a little deeper. Still, his tailored khakis and lightly starched white shirt were neatly pressed, a crisp line down each arm and leg.

Jack had no doubt that if invited to the world's end, Walter wouldn't attend unless he could bring his iron.

Elbows on his knees, Walter leaned in until he was practically whispering in Jack's ear. "Either you're in this with me all the way, or you're back with your wife, holding down a regular nine-to-five, doing the whole picket-fence thing."

As always, Walter struck like a sledgehammer at the root of his problem.

"I told you it'd be impossible for you to do this work and lead a normal life when I hired you. I reminded you of that when you decided to get married. Now, it comes down to your job or your wife. You make that choice now, Jack. Because neither of us can use you while you're in this in-between, feeling sorry for yourself, your brain in a bottle."

Jack scratched the stubble on his face as he leaned back in the chair, trying to quell his growing fury. At that moment, he hated Walter more than any other human being. He hated him because Walter was right. He was useless in this kingdom of self-imposed self-pity he'd proclaimed.

Time to choose. My wife or my job. One obsession over the other.

Odd thing was he'd already chosen. Thirty years earlier, as an eleven-year-old boy running through the night across the scrub grass of Northeast Texas as he chased a dream: a sleek, long-nosed alien ship that fell to Earth through a dark summer sky and crashed on his father's ranch outside the town of Bug Tussle, Texas.

Running across the scrub after the low-flying craft, he'd been tossed to the ground when the ship did a nosedive and smacked into the sand, cracking into pieces. He still carried the scar where a scrap of tissue-thin alien metal sliced through his filthy jeans.

That night, he'd found salvation. And his purpose. If there was one ship, there were others. Others who would rescue him from his alcoholic father's abuse and neglect. He raked a hand through his hair again as he looked up at Harry. "What about those seven minutes?"

"We realigned the gamma-ray telescope on board the Andromeda," Harry said. Arms locked across his chest, he'd been watching Jack and Walter spar like a spectator at a tennis match. "Gives Eddie's people seven more minutes to track the gamma-ray signal before it passes out of range."

"And we're sure these are real gamma rays and not some botched signal piggybacked off some random satellite?"

Jack knew it was a stupid question. Of course, the signal was real. Fitzgerald wouldn't have been sent to fetch him if there'd been the slightest doubt. Still, he needed someone to say it, reassurance that he was giving her up for a worthy cause.

The only cause.

"Repeating gamma rays vibrating at the wrong end of the radiation spectrum, traveling several times faster than the speed of light." Walter's smile said it all.

"This just keeps getting better and better," Jack agreed. "So, the gamma-ray signal is being transmitted through the Andromeda from somewhere out there." He gestured toward the ceiling. "Where out there?"

"We don't know," Harry said.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Jack said.

"He means we can't get a fix on the transmission source." Quinn's small voice faltered as she looked everywhere but at him.

What was there about him that made her so uncomfortable? He wasn't classically handsome like Harry, nor as smooth around the edges as Walter. Having practically raised himself, he'd missed a lesson or two in the social graces. Still, he was a nice guy at heart. Too intense. Obviously, too obsessive. Not very loyal either, he decided as he thought about his soon-to-be-ex.

"The signal's too hot," Quinn stuttered. "Blurring across the electromagnetic spectrum, coming at us from every angle. It's like someone set off this gigantic noise bomb, and that's all we hear everywhere we look."

"That's impossible." Jack regretted his words when Quinn's gaze found the floor and stayed there.

Repressing a sigh, he stood to face Helen. "Where's Eddie?"

"He's meeting with the elders.

"You're kidding."

"You know Eddie. Mystic first, astrophysicist—"

"Four minutes until Andromeda moves out of range," Harry warned.

"Son-of-a-bitch." Jack uttered each syllable like a punch to the air. Screw the meeting. He needed Eddie now. Too bad he couldn't teleport Fitzgerald to Colorado. She'd proven herself good at retrieving the reluctant.

Gasps, followed by a rolling flood of shocked voices, and the War Room swept into bedlam. Jack looked toward the front screen just in time to see the lone gamma-ray flicker, fade, and flicker again before it disappeared, replaced by snowy static.

"What the hell?" Harry literally did a double take.

"I thought we had seven minutes?" Jack's eyes bore into Helen's.

"We did," she said, struggling to be heard over the roars of disappointment and frustration on her side and theirs. "We should have. But there's nothing. Nothing."

"Two minutes." Somewhere along the way, Harry had become the unofficial doom keeper.

"It's out there." Walter's voice was low enough that only Jack could hear. "The signal."

"Out there where?" 

"Consider that a spacecraft is coming toward us at an incredible speed. Maybe we need to look for its signal closer to home."

Jack shook his head. "The signal can't be coming at us from millions of light-years away one minute and in our backyard the next."

"You never read Carl Sagan's Contact, did you?"

"At least three times, just to make peace with the vocabulary."

Walter chuckled. "His hero travels through a series of black holes, traversing from one edge of the universe to another in milliseconds. Who's to say Carl wasn't right?"

It took a few seconds for Walter's words to sink in and a few more for Jack to grasp their meaning, and he turned to face Helen. "Pull back the range on the telescope," he told her. "Bring it into home."

"Why?" Helen looked perplexed. "The signal's source has to be millions of light-years away. Seriously, Jack. It can't be way out there one minute and in our pocket the next."

"Humor me."

Helen looked unconvinced.

"Alright." He gestured at Walter now standing beside him. "Humor Walter."

Helen blew out a frustrated breath. "It's going to take time to readjust. You guys didn't exactly make this telescope of yours signal-sensitive."

In a hurry to get the telescope on board the Andromeda, Walter hadn't allowed the time needed to install modifications that would enable the telescope to automatically push out to capture weaker signals or pull in to collect ones closer to home.

He'd never seen the point.

"Since we're searching for electromagnetic radiation from millions of light-years away," Walter had told them, "there's no such thing as a noise too strong."

"Walter, it's going to take time to manually adjust the telescope," Helen said. "Time, we don't have."

"Mind if I take a shot?" Walter asked.

"Help yourself," Helen shrugged.

"Ninety seconds," Harry said.

The tension in the air, you could cut it with a knife, and Jack locked his fingers behind his head fighting the urge to pace. And to find Quinn a chair. Standing so close to him, he could feel her apprehension. It was distracting.

"Fifty-three seconds—thirty seconds—ten—" Harry's voice was like fingernails on a chalkboard. "Four—three—" Silence, and then, "She's gone. The Andromeda's passed out of range."

A thick quiet filled the room. Jack glanced at Walter, surprised to see him still hunched over Quinn's keyboard. About to ask what he knew that everyone else didn't, he was interrupted when Helen barked out a laugh of surprise.

"Look at the front screen," she said, and he whirled to see the missing gamma-ray's reappearance.

"It's a 'Wow!' signal," she shouted over the whoops and cheers that filled the room. "We've got ourselves another 'Wow!' signal!"