He also had the distinct feeling he was going to be working late.

X

“Someone is trying to contact us.” The Autothor bobbed patiently several meters above the floor.

Sunlight flooded in through the transparent panel, illuminating the hikers as they sampled the substitute breakfast the device had concocted for them. Follingston-Heath and Gelmann had slept well, but Shimoda had had a difficult time on the unyielding surface and Hawkins’s bad back had pained him intermittently. Iranaputra had hardly slept at all, but that was by choice. He didn’t need much sleep.

Ksarusix had turned itself off to conserve power, not wanting to miss anything the day and further interaction might bring.

“Well, there it is.” Iranaputra shoved the remnants of his meal aside. “These Drex or whatever have come looking for their property, and they are going to blame us for disturbing it.”

“Don’t you think that would be something of a coincidence after a million years?” Shimoda pointed out.

“Then who is trying to contact us?” asked Iranaputra.

“Aural modulation, linguistic organization, and style are similar to your own.”

“Of course they are.” Using Follingston-Heath’s knee for support, Gelmann worked herself erect and turned to the sweeping port. “Something like this suddenly appears out of nowhere, we should expect it to unsettle some people besides our friends in the Village.”

As usual, Hawkins’s reaction was somewhat less deliberative. “In other words, the whole countryside is probably scared shitless.”

“Can you arrange for us to listen in, old thing?” Follingston-Heath was still working on the last of his breakfast.

“Certainly.” The Autothor’s voice was replaced by that of a querulous human. It sounded slightly hesitant, which was to be expected.

“Large unidentified vessel, kindly identify yourself.” There was a pause. “Please? You have occupied Newyork Province airspace without declaring yourself. Please respond. This is Albany Operations. If you can react, we would like you to do so. Your presence is unauthorized.” The voice went on like that, tersely inquisitive, more hopeful than commanding.

After a while it was interrupted by a stronger, more forceful tone. “Intruding vessel! This is Baltimore Command, North American East Center. You must respond immediately. You are occupying …”

“We know,” Hawkins murmured aloud. “Unauthorized airspace. Hell of lot of it too.” He chuckled. “Poor sap sounds kind of upset, doesn’t he?”

“There are multiple signals now being directed at us,” the Autothor proclaimed in its own voice. “I will continue to isolate and relay only the strongest.”

“They should calm down.” Shimoda was busy working on Iranaputra’s leftovers. “Up here I don’t think we’re blocking any commercial air lanes or shuttle descent corridors.”

“I should imagine it’s our size that’s upsetting the poor chaps,” Follingston-Heath ventured.

“Request reaction.” For no apparent reason the brilliant blue ellipse had begun to rotate slowly.

“You want we should tell you?” Gelmann looked at her companions. “It wants we should tell it.”

Iranaputra considered. “Why should we do anything? Nobody is going to do anything, for a while, at least. I worked with government bureaucracies long enough to know that. First they will get together. Then they will argue. Then, with great fanfare, they will announce they have formed a committee to study the problem. Nothing will happen.”

“The only ones who could make a quick decision are the members of the Homeworld Council, in Barcelona.” Follingston-Heath eyed the Autothor. “If we needed you to, could you make contact with a city partway around the world?”

No one was surprised at the ellipse’s response. “I can contact any point on the planet.”

He put his food aside. “Well, then, perhaps I should …”

“You should not.” They turned to Shimoda in surprise. It wasn’t like him to interrupt. “Nothing personal, Colonel, but you can sometimes be unrelenting in your conversation. I hate to say military. We don’t want to alarm anyone on the ground, lest they do something rash. And I think it is premature to think of talking directly to the world council.”

“Good point, fats,” agreed Hawkins. “Especially since we’re stuck here a couple hundred meters in the air. I could talk to ’em. Always had a few things I wanted to say to the council.”

Shimoda eyed him narrowly. “Which is why it should be someone else, Wal.”

“Well, who, then?”

“Not me.” Gelmann smiled demurely. “I know I talk too much.”

“And I do not have proper experience.” Shimoda turned to the most diminutive member of the little group.

Iranaputra saw them staring at him, shrugged. “Fine. I do not mind.”

“Good.” Shimoda turned back to the drifting Autothor. “How do we send out a message?”

“Just talk. I’ll take care of the necessary electronic intercession.”

Iranaputra stepped forward, hesitated. Gelmann nodded encouragingly. Hawkins rolled his eyes and searched the hovering food platform for something to drink.

“Uh, hello. My name is Victor K. Iranaputra.”

“What? Who’s that, who’s talking?” Behind the voice that came out of the Blueness another could be heard saying, “We have contact, sir.”

In Baltimore things hadn’t been so frantic since three years previous, when a big tourist shuttle from Panming by way of orbital station Congo had lost power on descent and threatened to plow up a stretch of Atlantic coast the size of the Potomac River. The officials at Command were quietly debating what to do next, which is to say each of them was stalling desperately in the hope someone else would make a decision, thus sparing them any immediate risk.

In the end, as everyone but himself hoped, it was left to a large career civil servant named Bukowicz to formulate a response he hoped would come across as forceful without being threatening.

“Look here, whoever you are, you don’t have authorization to be in that area.”

“Sorry. This was not our idea.”

Someone behind Bukowicz muttered, “That doesn’t sound very alien.”

“Accent is Anglo-Hindusian,” someone else hazarded. “Not very thick, but unmistakable.”

“See if it’s got a name,” the woman on Bukowicz’s immediate right urged him. “Talk to it.”

He nodded. “All right. Mr. Iranaputra. You listen to me, now.”

“I am not alone,” the voice responded. “There are four other people with me.” Iranaputra proceeded to name his companions. “We are all residents of the Lake Woneapenigong Retirement Village, Newyork Province. We are approximately …”

“We have a fix on your position,” Bukowicz interrupted restively. “Are you really in some kind of vessel?”

“Oh, most definitely. I am afraid that our lift-off eliminated the lake.” He leaned over to gaze through the transparent panel. “Yes, it did. It was such an attractive lake too. We are very sorry for that, but we really had no …”

Hawkins hissed at him. “Don’t tell ’em that. Don’t let them know we’re not in control.”

Iranaputra whispered to his friend. “What difference does it make?”