Probe

(continued)

By John C. Weil

Suddenly a representative of the Department of Defense, in green captain's uniform, with neatly combed black hair, entered the room with a full entourage.

Bruckman met his eyes as he stood at the foot of the table, two guards with sidearms alongside him. He said sternly, "Sorry to intrude, gentlemen and women. But you are no closer to an answer today than one week ago. The military has decided to act. Regardless of what you have told us so far, we are not going to rule out terrorists."

The secretary and a few scientists glanced at one another and groaned. "The enemy wouldn't target frogs," the secretary said.

"It could be a test," the captain said as he leaned forward on the edge of the table. "Needless to say, from this point forward, the department takes this situation very seriously. You are now under strict orders not to share your information with any government outside those that are represented in this room. A foreign power or terrorists could be testing a biological weapon. Add it to the water stream at a certain level and it kills a sentinel species. Triple the dosage and it kills raccoons or wolves. Quadruple the dosage and it kills humans!"

He was standing up very straight now, red-faced, the tips of his fingers on the table.

"Add a few vials to our aqueducts and reservoirs and our water becomes unusable," he said sternly. "Chaos ensues. Governments fall. Americans and our allies go belly up just like frogs."

The meeting ended at midnight in the midst of a blazing argument. The scientists were still no closer to an answer than when they started. Military escorts accompanied each of the representatives to their hotel rooms. Several of them were still arguing all the way down the hall.

"Idiot!"

"At least I have a theory!"

Guards ushered them inside their rooms and stood watch outside their doors. Other teams of scientists representing Latin America, Africa, and parts of Europe concluded their meetings with a one-hour phone call to the U.S.-led team. Their governments also had put them on lock-down. None of the teams had uncovered any new facts.

Later that night a shaken and beaten Bruckman admitted to himself that the captain's terrorist scenario was not as far-fetched as it sounded. In fact, he found it to be the best explanation for how a toxin could spread to so many waterways in so many countries. He was already convinced it had to be hand-carried.

"Whatever the source," he had told the group, "whether terrorists or environmental catastrophe, we must find out what's causing it. It was true that if the dosage increases and continues in the water stream or in the soil for another month it will work its way up the biological chain quickly and kill other species. In two months most of our waterways will be rock hard and useless. We can expect half the animal population throughout the world to die. Many will wander down into towns and cities in search of water and food. In three months the toxins will begin to affect humans. In six months our bottled water supply may be used up. You can expect millions of deaths almost immediately."

Bruckman knelt beside his bed now to pray. "Sometimes the answers are simple," he said. "Help me to see it."

In another solar system on a planet revolving around three suns, a race of people far more advanced than mankind fired hundreds of thousands of pellets the size and shape of pumpkin seeds into space. Del, a renowned scientist, oversaw Project Make Contact.

Fifty Projectors forty feet long protruded through windows of the largest government laboratory. They were cannon-like in their firing, but silent. Not one disruptive sound.

Millions of their citizens lined up ten abreast, for twenty city blocks. From that vantage point they watched the Projector fire.

This race looked human, but they possessed six fingers, three arms, three legs, skin as white as milk. Eyes luminescent green. This race of people always had children in pairs.

The Projectors could fire almost any small projectile across many solar systems in a matter of earth-minutes. Each shot slowed down before impact to that of a fly settling on water. Then the pellets would slowly drop to the bottom of streams or rivers.

Maps of the solar system and maps of planets that had been explored were on visuals. They knew the location of all the planets, the geography of each planet, a little about each planet's inhabitants, and all the waterways. The scientists knew earth well. They had chosen earth for contact.

Teams of scientists had visited earth many times. The visits had been brief, and just like all visits to earth by their race, undetected by humans.

They had found their first experience with frogs particularly interesting. They really didn't know why, but they were drawn to frogs and had taken many home in specimen jars. They thought it was some kind of a bug. They experimented and played with the frogs for weeks on end. They poked them with a stick to jump over little homemade barriers. They loved when the frogs made a baritone "ribbit" at night when they shut out the lights.

When the frogs finally died after numerous tests, the scientists were pleased. It was the day of the great three-sun festival, a day of celebration for this race of beings. They had discovered what might kill a sentinel species from earth. The frog experiments could guide them in their first contact. They now knew what to do and what to avoid.

Secretly, they spent years perfecting pellets. They reviewed the star system maps, reviewed travel and distance calculations, calculated the best route to Earth.

They modified the Projectors to achieve rapid-fire shooting like machine guns. A Map-Screen on the Projectors depicted the direct hits with red dots that burst like fire. When they missed, the Projector told them so in a male voice. "You have missed the target. Please try again."

The scientists screamed joyfully with every hit. A contest for accuracy started between them. "Frogs must be jumping out of the water!" one yelled. They all looked at him curiously.

The pellets were coated with a clear gel that protected them through space until they struck the water on Earth. The shots across the stars went unnoticed. Most made it to earth, others went awry, spiraling off toward other planets. This only made the scientists even more determined. "Six ponds in thirty minutes," they said in their native language. "Splendid."

The map on the Projectors included information about the terrain of their targets. "Swamp, fertile, soil surrounding the target. Earth growth called, 'moss.' The tall pillars you see are known by earthlings as, 'tree.'"

The more meticulous began keeping score on a computer screen. Some scientists began to wonder if this was an effort at first contact, or a contest to see who could wipe out more frogs. "Why are frogs so fascinating?" one asked another.

Making a disturbance no greater than that caused by a rain drop, thousands of pellets struck the earth every ten minutes. The pellets quickly dissolved and did their damage. They knew eventually humans would notice. The pellets struck a river from one end to the other, a distance of forty miles. Privately, they knew they were disturbing the frogs and their habitat. They imagined the pellets hitting frogs and surrounding waterways, doing little more than scattering the frogs for cover. Perhaps it gave them a sharp burn that lasted no more than seconds. Frog hits registered on the Projectors as a blue dot.

This went on for days. Every afternoon, they tallied the number of direct hits. Every day millions of citizens lined the streets. First scientists kept track of the number of pellets that landed correctly. Then privately they marked down the number of frogs sent scurrying for cover. They used this sheet hidden in a drawer for side bets.