“So you’ve been here,” I said, “orbiting Saturn, for almost five hundred years.”
“Well, we’ve been here for that long,” said Nari. “I haven’t personally. We all sign on for staggered tours of duty of approximately one hundred twenty of your years. Since our medical technology has led to extremely long lifespans, this isn’t too long of a commitment. I’ve been in charge since just after the end of World War II.”
“Interesting timing,” I pointed out. “So did the horrors of that war, even heavily watered down, break your predecessor?”
“I’m afraid so,” replied Nari with a frown. “Badly. He was supposed to lead for another forty years.”
I understood completely. Talk about humanity at its worst. Even humans couldn’t stomach the endless atrocities of that time.
“Thankfully,” said the alien, “humanity has matured considerably since I’ve been here.”
“But we still have a long way to go, don’t we?” said Tessa.
“You do. Quite a long way. Still, you possess what none of our civilizations do—the drive, passion, and indomitable will to tame the universe. You won’t take no from the laws of physics. You’ll demand that the universe yield before you. You’re a species who will find a way to claw your way to transcendence, whatever it takes.”
I continued to be blown away by the epic paradox of it all. Timid species could survive their adolescences but didn’t have the drive to colonize, to blast through seemingly impenetrable scientific barriers. A soft, unambitious species, kind and caring and gentle—everything most of us wished humanity could be—could only go so far.
But Nari was right. Humanity was limitless. Our self-destructive qualities were the very ones we’d need to defeat the light-speed barrier, to challenge the universe on its own terms. We would manage to reach transcendence, make the universe kneel before us, through sheer tenacity and force of will.
“Incredible,” I said. “So being gentle and harmless is the disease. And we’re the cure.”
“Yes,” said Nari warily. “But a dangerous one. Not all of us are of like minds on this. The Rho think you could be our salvation. Others believe that you’ll just hasten our demise. That the cure will be worse than the disease.
“Take a thorn out of a lion’s paw and he may become your friend. Or he may make a light snack out of you. It’s impossible to tell. Humanity is like a hydrogen bomb on the cusp of detonation. If we can defuse you in time, and channel your explosive power into constructive pursuits, this enormous power can be harnessed to drive us all forward.”
“So that’s why you’ve had your ships track our fighter planes during World War II,” I said. “And muck around with missiles at nuclear silos in various countries. To be ready in case we need defusing.”
“Correct,” said Nari.
Many had conjectured that this behavior indicated the aliens were looking out for our welfare. But no one, to my knowledge, had ever guessed the aliens were doing this to ensure their own survival. That they were grooming a possible savior, hoping to defang it, steer it in a benevolent direction, and then hang on for dear life.
“Humanity dropped two nuclear bombs to end World War II,” I said. “Why didn’t you stop these from falling?”
Nari sighed. “Only America had the bomb at the time,” he replied. “So there could be no nuclear response. And it was clear that the bigger danger to your species was if the Axis Powers won the war. So we decided not to intervene, which guaranteed a quick victory for the Allied Powers. And while the math was utterly horrific, many times more lives would have been lost had the war raged on.”
I couldn’t fault this logic, as ghastly as such trade-offs were to contemplate. But this soul-crushing decision must have been the straw that broke the back of Nari’s predecessor—or his mind in any case.
Brad Schoenfeld had been silent for several minutes, but decided to chime in. “The Galactics kept to themselves for most of the five hundred years they’ve been here,” he said. “That changed twenty-six years ago, when Nari singled out my predecessor, the Marine colonel I mentioned earlier, Damian Spooner, for first contact.
“Nari sent an AI-controlled UAV to pick up the colonel and circle the entire globe—in just over thirty minutes. A demonstration that opened Colonel Spooner’s mind to new . . . possibilities. Then Nari had a long holographic conversation with the colonel, during which time he laid out everything we just told you.”
“Why choose someone in the US?” I asked.
“We were the most powerful and influential nation on the planet at the time,” said Brad.
I nodded. I’d like to think we still were, but I had to acknowledge that China may well have surpassed us.
“And why this Damian Spooner?” asked Tessa.
“Their AI carefully vetted all US military and intelligence personnel to find him,” replied the colonel. “They wanted epic competence, along with unimpeachable character. Someone they could count on to be ethical and wise—at least as ethical and wise as a human could be.”
Brad smiled. “And calm,” he added. “I reported to Colonel Spooner for several years before he retired, and let me tell you, calmness was his superpower.”
“Colonel Spooner was a great choice,” said Nari. “But you should know that we vetted Brad just as carefully, and he’s just as impressive.”
Tessa nodded at the alien. “So why did you decide to finally introduce yourselves?” she asked. “Why not just continue to be our guardian angels anonymously, as you did for hundreds of years?”