Probe

(continued)

By John C. Weil

Back on Earth, forty percent of America's waterways were now hardened and blue. Twenty percent of the rest of the worlds' water had transformed. Oceans were not affected. The dosage from the pellets was not enough to overcome the volume of water. But rivers and the Great Lakes were now in peril. Cargo ships were stuck in thousands of yards of hardened water.

Then the unthinkable happened.

After one week the Projectors were redirected to take aim at man-made aqueducts and reservoirs. They decided to go after bigger game.

To these alien scientists — with far superior intelligence — this was both work and recreation. They were enjoying the frog competition more than making first contact.

After firing a thousand shots into the Colorado River, Del reviewed the charts of Project Make Contact. He noted the progress for his report to the high command. He scooped up a handful of pellets and examined them under a microscope. Things were progressing nicely.

Back on earth Bruckman gazed out a window in frustration when the phone rang. "Secretary Bruckman," he answered.

"Mr. Secretary, this is Special Agent Lawson of the FBI. I have been told to report this to you. We have a situation. You need to see it for yourself."

Forty minutes later Bruckman's driver parked the Crown Victoria alongside a dozen black cars and military vehicles haphazardly and hastily parked at the side of a dirt road. He was met by Agent Lawson and a dozen other agents and heavily armed soldiers. The soldiers were in full battle gear. Bruckman shook hands and followed the detail through the woods. The afternoon light was waning, and layers of shadow filtered between the heavy trees. Dark shadow blanketed a small open field just outside the woods. Tall grass blew in the breeze. He saw a wide stream snaking through the field. The surface reflected the fading orange light. He realized immediately that the surface of the stream was blue and JELL-O-like.

Agent Lawson led him to the bare embankment alongside the hard stream, where two fishermen sat on a log, covering their faces in their hands. The log was well-worn on top, as if many men had sat there. Long fishing poles were strewn beside them. Face down on the embankment alongside the hardened water was another man in full fishing gear. His head was split wide open in the back, his brain crushed like soft cauliflower. Blood was splattered everywhere.

"Gentlemen," Agent Lawson asked the fisherman. "Please tell this man what you told me."

One man, who had been crying, said, "I was fishing next to him on this log. From the corner of my eye I saw dozens of — I'd call them pin-pricks, on the surface of the water. It was just a split second — like someone hard-tossed a handful of sand, or maybe salt in a spraying motion, I don't know. I turned to my friend Ron..."

"That's Ron lying there," Agent Lawson clarified.

"He suddenly hit the water like he'd been chopped in the head with an axe," the man continued. "Or maybe he was shot. I dragged him out when the water started turning into that hard blue stuff you see there. Then I spun around with my hands up to defend myself, but no one was around. Steve here was upstream so he didn't see nothing. I called him and he came running."

The other man looked up bleary-eyed, but said nothing.

"Continue," Bruckman said.

"We both crouched behind the log for cover. We waited and waited. We watched the woods. We waited for half an hour for a charge, or a gunshot. Then I crawled to my bag for my cell phone and called the police."

"Thank you," Agent Lawson said.

Bruckman and Agent Lawson walked to the perimeter of the woods. "Here's what happened to the man's head," Agent Lawson said. He withdrew a small plastic container from his pocket. In the blood were two pellets the size of misshapen popcorn kernels. "We found these in his brain."

Thirty minutes later Bruckman felt as if he now he was on the brink of a major breakthrough. As his Crown Victoria, escorted by the FBI, rushed the pellets back to the lab for analysis, he began to believe in himself once again. He regained his confidence. Agent Lawson had explained that forensics felt the pellets were probably misshapen from the impact of the man's skull. Inside the pellets Bruckman heard a liquid sloshing around when he shook them.

Two hours later his technicians stood silently in front of him with the results from dozens of tests. Others with classified information status had crowded into the room to witness the conversation. The lead technician said shakily, excitedly, "The pellets are not from this world. Each pellet contains a precisely crafted chemical compound. Both are not exactly the same. We cannot identify the liquid."

"Space debris?"

"No... Its far more exciting than that."

The employees in the room began chattering excitedly. Bruckman hushed them, asking, "How many chemicals in all?"

"Twelve in each. Even the pellets are amazing. We removed a microscopic dot. The 'skin' dissolves in water releasing the chemicals. Yet the pellets' surface survived through space at a high rate of speed unlike anything we could ever achieve. We found traces of known atmospheric elements on the surface verifying our findings."

"The pellets must be designed to do damage."

"We don't think so. True, the force of the pellets striking a man's head killed him. But it did not release the chemicals. So it is likely not intended as a weapon."

"How do you explain the frogs and our waterways?"

"We believe that was unintentional, too. We believe the pellets are designed to be noticed once they land — like a message to tell us there is life in the universe. Undoubtedly, the pellets have struck land, too. Yet no bridges, buildings or other structures have been destroyed. That means to us that the pellets are designed not to destroy anything when striking a hard surface. That is amazing in itself. The pellets must have a slow-down mechanism of some kind. The man? That was a screw-up."

"They are designed to find water and dissolve..." Bruckman said, thinking out loud. "There must be an encrypted message in the chemicals. Their technology is likely advanced enough to send pellets across the universe, but not manned space ships."

"Our, thoughts exactly. If there is an encrypted message in the chemicals it may reveal the means to contact them. That may be how we let them know about the damage they are inflicting upon us."