Honeycomb

By Frederick Vale

The light began to blink steadily on the console.  “Sir, we’ve got an incoming transmission from Hermes.”

“Put it on screen.” 

The command center on the bottom floor of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex in Colorado, 53 floors beneath the surface of the Earth, had dozens of screens.  But on the wall opposite the hallway that led to the elevator, a 12-½ foot screen dominated the room.  Within seconds it was filled with the image of a man floating in zero gravity.  

“Major Wong, what do you have?” 

“Admiral Harris, I’m transmitting our initial analysis now.  We’ll keep working on it, but we wanted to report it as soon as it was discovered.” 

“Its orbit around Earth is stable?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How long has it been there?” 

Lieutenant Lindstrom occupied the primary terminal near the center of the room, and had been pouring over the transmission since it was received.  “We have no idea, sir.  At this point we can barely observe half of our sky at any one time.  Simple course adjustments and a bit of luck could have kept it from notice for quite some time.” 

“Sir, I think the more important question,” Colonel Sarah Nguyen broke in from the back of the room, “is what is it doing here?”

Admiral Harris turned back towards the primary screen, “let’s see it.”  His lined face was set hard as image on the screen change. 

President Wen read through the dossier while her National Security Advisor briefed her on the situation.  Data was still coming in as information from Hermes and the six satellites diverted to scrutinize the object was analyzed. 

“Regrettably, Madam President, our information is still extremely limited.  In the three hours since the object’s discovery we’ve learned a lot, but-“

“Let’s get down to brass tacks, Henry.  What are we dealing with?”

“We’re not sure, ma’am.” 

“Is it naturally occurring?”

“We don’t have a definitive answer on that yet, ma’am.”

“Dr. Torres, what do you think?”  President Wen asked, lifting her eyes from the dossier and letting them settle on Dr. Rolando Torres, the representative of NASA.  It took him a full 10 seconds to start talking, and even then his response began haltingly.  His brilliance and leadership in the aerospace industry over the past two and a half decades was unquestioned.  His strong voice was normally unwavering, demanding the attention and respect of anyone in the room.  This was, however, his first time in the White House, much less the Situation Room, and the piercing stare of President Wen’s dark, deep-set eyes watching him over the top of her glasses left him rattled. 

“Well Madam President, as you know, we have no idea how long it’s been here.  Current analysis indicates it’s been at least a few weeks, if not longer, avoiding our normal satellite and telescope sweeps through slight changes in its orbit, suggesting a level of intelligence directing its movements.  Had Hermes not had an unscheduled change in course to avoid a University of Melbourne telescope sweep, who knows when we would have found it.” 

“Dr. Torres, you’ve had three hours to study it, what do we actually know?” 

Dr. Torres looked briefly down at his notes before gesturing to the person on his left.  “This is Dr. Emily Kelley.  Her team has been in charge of coordination between the Pentagon and NASA to study the object.  I’ll turn this over to her.” 

Dr. Kelley pushed her long, auburn hair out of her face while she began speaking in her rapid, clipped style.  She flicked between images on the personal screen set into the conference table in front of her, projecting them on the larger screen behind her to show the rest of the room. 

“Here is our best view of the object.  As you can see, it has a large, uniform, honeycomb-like structure, roughly the size of a football stadium.  These indentations,” she said, using a stylus to highlight examples on the screen, “occur at regular intervals.  Each is approximately 20 meters high, 20 meters wide, and 50 meters apart.  We believe that they open and serve as doorways to the structure.  While it doesn’t appear to have any windows, we believe that the protrusions here, here, here, and here,” she said, circling various points on the object, “serve as some sort of sensing instruments that allow the occupants to-“

“Now wait just a damn minute-“ began Anthony John, the President’s Chief of Staff. 

“Tony!” The President said sharply, shooting a warning glance in his direction.  “Dr. Kelley, are you saying that this is some kind of alien spaceship?” 

Emily Kelley finally raised her eyes from the screen and looked directly at the President.  She leaned forward and placed her elbows on the polished, mahogany tabletop.  The muted light right above her head made her hair look as if it was smoldering.  The intensity in her green eyes gave President Wen pause as they locked on her own. 

“Madam President, at this point it is impossible to give a definitive answer to that question, but that is the hypothesis we are working with.  If I was to hazard a guess based on its movements and composition, then I would say yes, that is an extra terrestrial spacecraft.” 

Her matter-of-fact statement was met by a deafening silence, and all eyes in the room save hers and the President’s moved to the image behind her. 

President Wen’s face was made of granite as she spoke.  “Dr. Kelley, Dr. Torres, what can you tell us about whoever made that ship.” 

Dr. Torres, having regained his composure following his colleague’s strong performance, began with his deep baritone voice.  “Assuming that they are roughly the same size as us, and that the ship is equipped with technology to support life on long voyages, it probably holds at least 10,000 inhabitants.  Based on the observable information gathered on the structure, it appears to be incredibly technologically advanced – far surpassing us.  We are also detecting signals coming from the craft, which we’ve codenamed Honeycomb.  They are both directed towards Earth and out into space, in the direction of the Unicorn Nebula.  Unfortunately we can’t make heads or tails of what they are.” 

“What do you think they’re doing?”  Asked National Security Advisor Henry Jackson, directing the question at the pair of doctors. 

Emily Kelley moved her pale, green eyes in his direction.  “Watching us.  Studying us.”  She said simply. 

It was then that President Wen took charge of the situation.  “General Boubakari, I want all of our forces standing by at DefCon 3.  Vice President Miller, alert the Senate and Congressional leadership of both parties and the Senate Foreign Relations Committee of the situation.  I want what we know sent to the UN Security Council and the G8, and a videoconference set up with their leaders in 40 minutes.  Let’s keep this situation as quiet as possible, I don’t want a mass panic on our hands. 

“Dr. Kelley, I’m appointing you to the emergency position of Special Coordinator to make sure that all of our agencies are on the same page.  Do not make any decisions without my approval.  At this point we are just going to watch.  Tony, set her and Dr. Torres up in an office close to the situation room.  Make sure they have any materials and personnel they require.  I want updates every 15 minutes.  Let’s find out what we’re dealing with here.  Thank you.” 

With that she stood up and quickly strode from the room as everyone else jumped to attention.  The inactivity of their statue-like positions lasted no more than four seconds.  As soon as President Wen had crossed the threshold of the door, a flurry of activity began, cut off from the hallway abruptly by the heavy wooden doors being closed by uniformed marines. 

Hermes is a joint Canadian-American top-secret space station that rivals the size of the International Space Station.  Though it is officially a secret, it is probably known to at least China, Britain, France, and Russia, if not India, Brazil, Japan and Israel as well.  The joint effort is part of a strategic partnership harkening back to the Blue Devils, the Canadian-American Special Forces unit in World War II that was the first of its kind.  Hermes gives Canada the chance to participate in something it could normally never afford, and the United States somewhere to launch from that is relatively safe from the prying satellites of other countries.  The wilderness outside of Thunder Bay, Ontario, had become Cape Canaveral for Hermes. 

The funding for Hermes is hidden in the military budget of both countries.  As a result, the militaries and aerospace programs of them both are involved.  It is unusual for foreign personnel to be on the 53^rd floor of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex or even in the Complex at all.  However, Hermes is considered an important enough program, and Canada a close enough ally, to allow it.  At all times Hermes is crewed by four personnel – two Americans and two Canadians.  The command position rotates between them, with Canadian Major Jeff Wong currently in charge. 

The same is true for the ground control of Hermes on the 53^rd floor, codenamed Skykeeper.  American Admiral Walter Harris has command of the Canadian and American personnel of Skypkeeper.  In theory, all decisions regarding Hermes are made jointly.  In reality, all of the weaponry on board is American, and the senior American officer on board has launch ability, although there had never been cause for them to put it into practice. 

With Honeycomb visible by simply looking out the window and the possibility of using those weapons increasing, tensions began to mount. 

None of the four-person permanent crew on Hermes had slept in the 76 hours since the first siting of Honeycomb by Captain Kordestani, an accomlishment that would probably feature her in the historical narrative for the foreseeable future. 

“Rick,” Jeff Wong said, not looking up from the screen he had been staring at for ours.  “Go get some sleep, you’ve got first rest break.  We’ll wake you up in four hours so someone else can sleep.”

“Major, I’m fine, really, let somebody else go.”  The other two-crew members immediately looked at him with raised eyebrows.  Nobody wanted to miss a second of history in the making. 

“Lieutenant, you’re the most junior officer so you get the short straw.  Don’t worry; I’m sure nothing will happen in the next 4 hours, there hasn’t been any visible activity yet.” 

Rick sighed with resignation and started to unhook himself from the stabilizing bar on his console.  “Alright sir, but I’ll be back here in 4 hours on the dot.  Wake me up if-“

Before he could finish, Kordestani cut him off with a shout, “It’s opening up!  Something on Honeycomb is opening!” 

Wong quickly turned back to his own console.  “Lieutenant belay that order, get on the horn with Skykeeper and make sure they are seeing this.”  He looked up to the window in front of him that was facing Honeycomb. 

Honeycomb had a slight rotation, but the side facing Earth stayed that way.  Doors on one of the larger honeycombs began to retract, revealing a large circular configuration, perhaps 100 meters in diameter, with 33 smaller circular ports all around the perimeter.  After less than a minute, those doors began to open as well. 

This was followed by a full five minutes of inactivity on Honeycomb, accentuated by the frantic movement and rapid communication between Hermes, Skykeeper, and the Situation Room. 

“Admiral Harris,” President Wen said, talking to the Skykeeper commander through a video connection, “if it comes down to it, how many launch sites do we have and how many kinds of rockets that could actually hit that thing?” 

Harris looked back at Sarah Nguyen, who supplied the answer.  “Other than Hermes there are seven Earth-based launch sites in America – Mid-Atlantic Regional Spaceport in Virginia, the California Spaceport, Cape Canaveral Spaceport in Florida, Kennedy Space Center in Orlando, Mojave Air and Space Port in Nevada, Spaceport America in New Mexico, and Kodiak Launch Complex in Alaska.  Each has a mixture of Athena and Taurus class rockets, roughly 800 between them.” 

“Put them all on standby, we don’t know what that things going to do.” 

Without warning, there were objects launched from all 33 open ports on Honeycomb straight at Earth, impacting within 30 seconds.  

“Where the hell did those things hit and what was the damage?” demanded the President. 

“Ma’am, it appears that all 33 hit in either uninhabited or lightly inhabited areas.  We have no reports of damage yet, but we are sending flyovers to assess the impact,” answered Admiral Harris. 

As the flyover reports came in, they were sent to Dr. Kelley, who tried to analyze any correlations between them.  “Madam President, it appears that all of the objects hit areas that had little to no plant growth, either naturally or as a result of human activity.  We’re not sure what hit – but there is evidence of impact craters at every site so far, so nothing landed.” 

“Tony,” began the President, “coordinate with General Boubakari and the rest of the Joint Chiefs, and the governments of wherever those things landed.  I want teams on the ground to see what the hell we’re dealing with.” 

“Ma’am,” Tony replied, pulling a receiver from his ear, “the Canadian Prime Minister is on the line, they are getting all of the same reports from Skykeeper and Hermes as us, and they want to know what the plan of action is.” 

“Tell them we’re working, and set up another videoconference with the UN Security Council and the rest of the G8.  As soon as we have ground reports I want to confer with them on what our course of action should be.  This is a worldwide problem, gentlemen.  This is where the Security Council earns its keep.” 

Three hours later, reports began to stream in from the ground teams.  Emily Kelley and her team rushed to put them together into something comprehensive to give them an idea of what was actually going on.  Before she knew it, Dr. Torres was in the doorway.  “Alright Kelley, the President and the National Security Team are waiting for you in the Situation Room.  The Security Council and Canada are being video conferenced in.” 

Dr. Kelley tried to force down the panic that the situation was making her feel, and after 15 seconds found the cool and detached demeanor that she was famous for under stressful situations.  “Alright, let’s do this.” 

She walked into the room and related what the initial reports were saying.  In places like Karachay in the Ural Mountains, the Aral Sea in Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, Kabwe in Zambia, Dzerzhinsk on the Oka River in Russia, and even old mining sites in West Virginia; all that had been irrevocably polluted by human activity, that pollution was somehow reversing itself – and quickly.  The water in the Aral Sea was reappearing and the water in Karachay was somehow losing its toxins.  The soil in Kabwe and Dzerhinsk was not only doing the same thing, but was also starting to become permeated with life-producing nutrients. 

The same was true for parts of the earth not affected by humans, but cursed with poor soil anyways.  In some sites, the weather seemed to be changing.  Temperatures were lowering in the Lut Desert in Iran, and rising in the Dry Valleys in Antarctica, with rainfall increasing in both areas. 

“Madame President, it appears that, whatever it is these things are that Honeycomb sent, they are generating regions in which the natural life on Earth will flourish.  The water and soil is becoming rich with nutrients and clear of toxins.  The Honeycomb is, in essence, terraforming the most damaged and inhospitable places on our planet, with seemingly no side-effects on the rest of the planet’s ecosystem.” 

“Henry, what does this mean?  Is this hostile or friendly?”  The president asked, turning to her National Security Advisor. 

“Well ma’am, it could be either.  This could be an attempt to show that they have peaceful intentions, using their technology to improve the worst parts of our world.  It could also be the beginning of an effort to change, then invade and colonize our planet.  At this point we have no way of knowing.” 

“President Wen,” began the Russian President, “through Hermes, you have the best chance of defending this planet.  All of Russia’s space-worthy rockets are on standby, and we await the signal to attack.” 

“Madame President,” chimed in the British Prime Minister, “this must be done.  They’ve already fired at our planet, and who knows what they will do next.  This would not even be a preemptive strike, but a retaliatory one.  They are the aggressors, and we need to defend Earth, through any means necessary.  I propose a resolution releasing the nuclear codes for launch.”  The leaders of France, Canada, and current Security Council members Argentina and Swaziland all started yelling caution, while the Chinese President sat back and listened. 

The Canadian Prime Minister, Sandeep Patel, shouted over the tumult, “MADAME PRESIDENT,” and quieted the rest of the speakers.  “This is our first contact wit the rest of the Universe.  At this point we have no idea whether this thing is friendly, or deadly.  By all means, have our collective weaponry on standby, but we cannot act this rashly.  Up until now, all Honeycomb has done is help our planet become more fruitful.  This seems like a gesture of goodwill, not an act of aggression.” 

 “President Wen!” Major Wong’s voice came through the speakers and the image of him bent over is console in Hermes was projected on the screens in the room, relayed by Skykeeper.  “Something else is opening.  I’m not sure what it is.  It looks lik…” 

With that his voice cut off as the image from him disappeared from view, leaving nothing behind but the belt he had been attached to his console with. 

“Captain Kordestani!”  Admiral Harris barked at the screen in front of him.  “What happened to Wong?” 

“I have no idea sir, he just disappeared…” she replied, her cinnamon skin growing pale. 

“President Wen!  We must act” the British Prime Minister shouted.

“No James, we must wait.”