This scenario plays out in space command USA and the UN Office of Outer Space Affairs committee.

In Space Command, Chip punches up a program to transmit prime numbers. He presses a red button and numbers flash up on the screen; they are transmitted on all frequencies.
‘I just hope they are friendly,’ he mutters to himself, a knot of fear in his stomach. He looks around him, at his colleagues. Some are grim-faced, a few younger ones look like rabbits caught in a truck’s headlights. His friend Leonard is dialling his girlfriend under his desk, trying not to be seen.
‘Get out of New York now!’ he whispers.
‘But I have a hair appointment.’
‘Forget your appointment. Get out of New York now. Aliens are coming!’
‘Will they be friends with us? What shoes shall I wear?’

A military space shuttle flies out of the Earth’s atmosphere into space. President Wilson and General Scott watch from the shuttle’s onboard camera.
‘What can you see, Commander?’ asked Wilson.
‘The object is approaching fast: 10,000, 3,000, 1,000 miles. It’s slowing down—it’s huge, sir!’
‘Are you able to send a signal to it?’ asks a white-faced Wilson.
‘Trying on all frequencies. Sir my controls are frozen, I cannot steer the ship. I have lost control. I’m locked in some sort of tractor beam!’ Wilson and Scott look at each other. The joint chiefs stand crowded around the screen.
‘Sir, it’s destroying all the satellites. The ship is opening—Fuck!’

Laser beams emit from the lower section of the massive spaceship. Satellites in the immediate vicinity are destroyed like a bat feeding on mosquitoes. The shuttle drifts helplessly towards an opening in the spaceship. The Space Shuttle disappears inside as the screen goes dark.

Back in the White House, an agitated Scott confronts President Wilson.
‘Shall we launch a nuclear strike, sir?’
‘We are not certain of their intentions yet, let’s wait.’
‘But they have destroyed a bunch of satellites!’ the General exclaims.
The president looks pale and ashen.
‘Shall I invoke the Sirius Protocol?’ Scott looks Wilson in the eye.
‘The Sirius Protocol? I didn’t think that was real I thought it was just a ruse to get extra funding for the Defence Department.’
‘Oh, it’s real sir, a preparation for an alien invasion. After Roswell, we knew we had to prepare for this eventuality one day. With your permission, I am invoking it now sir. We have to move you to a safe location before it’s too late.’
Wilson appears shaky and drawn.

‘Do it. Fetch my son, he’s in the East Wing. And my wife, she’s at a charity event in New York. Do it now!’
As he looks out of the White House window, he realizes that the strange creature, Cassian, was right. The question is are they prepared?

The black monolithic spaceship stays in Earth orbit, unhindered. Eighty smaller, but still huge spacecraft, each one-mile wide, emerge from the mothership at precise intervals, each one as black and ugly as the mothership, making their way around the globe to all the main cities and population centres.

Jayesh Jindal, wearing a smart suit, pin backed hair and glasses, is sitting in her office in Vienna, her brain reeling. She is on her third cup of coffee, well beyond her normal limit of one a day. She is an Indian astrophysicist and works for the UN Office of Outer Space Affairs committee. The office is charged with making first contact with aliens, and Jayesh is its ambassador.
She wipes her brow with a tissue as she strides into the small control centre where her staff of five are in a frenzy of activity.
‘Has the friendship message been translated?’ Jayesh puts her hands on her hips.
‘Yes ma’am. English to Spanish, Mandarin Chinese, Arabic and Hindi,’ says a smart looking Chinese girl with glasses.
‘Transmit now, Li.’
‘Okay ma’am.’
‘Where is your family?’ asks Jayesh.
‘Salzburg, ma’am.’
‘I have a bad feeling about this. Leave now. It will be safer than Vienna. Same for the rest of you. I will pack up. Go!’ she shouts. She watches as her staff grab their bags and rush out the door, then she walks to the window. Down below, crowds of people are running in the streets, in all directions, cops failing miserably to control the traffic, cars crashing, and shops being looted.

‘This is how it starts’, she thinks.

The story continues in


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