organisation could be sure of that - the same one that had the resources and the know-how to build a virus capable of getting past Freedom. Only this organisation knew the AI system aboard the Jew better than she did.
And that was High Command itself.
The motive was a little more complex. For what possible reason would HC want to sabotage its own investment? The only answer I could think of was to redirect our pooled hostility outwards, towards an imaginary alien, instead of inwards at each other. Even with the success of the soap opera, they still had eleven failures on their hands. Maybe they could see signs of stress that I had missed. Perhaps they thought the risk of pulling a stunt like this was less than the risk of doing nothing at all.
Or perhaps I was being paranoid. At the very least, it was a plausible theory.
The only problem was, I couldn’t tell anyone. If my guess was right, then HC would look poorly on the person who gave the game away - and made them the enemy.
So, like Gabe, I had to play the impartial observer and let everyone have their say, half-hoping someone else would guess. Only time would tell if I was right. Until then, all I could do was watch and, as Jake advised, enjoy the show.
And that was how I eventually worked the saucer into the episode. On other occasions, Gabe had been the star, or Myrion, or Jake. One of the reasons why I had cast myself as narrator, apart from convenience, was because I hate the look of my own face. But I had no choice this time. My turn had come. There was no other way to present what had happened.
Episode Eleven (Mu Boötis) began, not with the encounter itself, but with the debriefing in Gabe’s quarters. The interviews I had conducted followed, mixed with the survey of the system. On top of the astronomical footage, I publicly agonised over my dilemma: how could I portray what had happened without stretching the audience’s credulity? This self-reference was planned to convince the viewers of my/our sincerity. That something unusual had happened would be obvious in the way we spoke; that it was hard to credit, likewise. When the audience eventually saw the actual saucer, at the very end of the episode, they would be prepared for it. They would feel along with us, I hoped, a mixture of fear, amusement, awe, suspicion and total disbelief.
Gabe gave the episode his seal of approval and sent it on its way.
Two days later, Freedom and Steve announced that we were ready for crossover to the next system. Gabe, instead of ordering us immediately on our way, announced a twelve-hour shutdown to give us a breather. We were two months ahead of schedule and there was no denying that we were tired, but it wasn’t like Gabe to delay like this. He was always pressing on, pushing forward, over the top and no second thoughts, lads!
Perhaps he knew something the rest of us didn’t, or guessed.
Either way, it was worth waiting for.
~ * ~
SCENE:
(Control Bridge of the Wandering Jew, approximately seventy-five minutes to scheduled crossover.)
JAKE: Uh, Captain...?
GABE: Yes, Jake?
JAKE: It’s back, sir. Our friend, the bogey. Stationary, this time.
(Brief shot of the alien craft. It appears exactly the same as before: bright green, disc-shaped, spinning about its vertical axis.)
GABE: Position?
JAKE: High above the ecliptic, barely within range. We’re getting a strong fix from one of the solar-survey satellites.
GABE: Is it broadcasting?
JAKE: Negative, sir. Just sitting there.
GABE: (To himself) Waiting for us to do something ...? (Into an intercom) All-stations, all-stations! This is an alert. Prepare for immediate crossover. (Intercom off) Sara, have us ship-shape in five minutes. Steve, warm us up. Freedom, any thoughts?
FREEDOM: I’ll leave the decision up to you, sir. But please bear in mind what I said.
GABE: Yes. If we leave Mu Boötis, we’ll
And that was High Command itself.
The motive was a little more complex. For what possible reason would HC want to sabotage its own investment? The only answer I could think of was to redirect our pooled hostility outwards, towards an imaginary alien, instead of inwards at each other. Even with the success of the soap opera, they still had eleven failures on their hands. Maybe they could see signs of stress that I had missed. Perhaps they thought the risk of pulling a stunt like this was less than the risk of doing nothing at all.
Or perhaps I was being paranoid. At the very least, it was a plausible theory.
The only problem was, I couldn’t tell anyone. If my guess was right, then HC would look poorly on the person who gave the game away - and made them the enemy.
So, like Gabe, I had to play the impartial observer and let everyone have their say, half-hoping someone else would guess. Only time would tell if I was right. Until then, all I could do was watch and, as Jake advised, enjoy the show.
And that was how I eventually worked the saucer into the episode. On other occasions, Gabe had been the star, or Myrion, or Jake. One of the reasons why I had cast myself as narrator, apart from convenience, was because I hate the look of my own face. But I had no choice this time. My turn had come. There was no other way to present what had happened.
Episode Eleven (Mu Boötis) began, not with the encounter itself, but with the debriefing in Gabe’s quarters. The interviews I had conducted followed, mixed with the survey of the system. On top of the astronomical footage, I publicly agonised over my dilemma: how could I portray what had happened without stretching the audience’s credulity? This self-reference was planned to convince the viewers of my/our sincerity. That something unusual had happened would be obvious in the way we spoke; that it was hard to credit, likewise. When the audience eventually saw the actual saucer, at the very end of the episode, they would be prepared for it. They would feel along with us, I hoped, a mixture of fear, amusement, awe, suspicion and total disbelief.
Gabe gave the episode his seal of approval and sent it on its way.
Two days later, Freedom and Steve announced that we were ready for crossover to the next system. Gabe, instead of ordering us immediately on our way, announced a twelve-hour shutdown to give us a breather. We were two months ahead of schedule and there was no denying that we were tired, but it wasn’t like Gabe to delay like this. He was always pressing on, pushing forward, over the top and no second thoughts, lads!
Perhaps he knew something the rest of us didn’t, or guessed.
Either way, it was worth waiting for.
~ * ~
SCENE:
(Control Bridge of the Wandering Jew, approximately seventy-five minutes to scheduled crossover.)
JAKE: Uh, Captain...?
GABE: Yes, Jake?
JAKE: It’s back, sir. Our friend, the bogey. Stationary, this time.
(Brief shot of the alien craft. It appears exactly the same as before: bright green, disc-shaped, spinning about its vertical axis.)
GABE: Position?
JAKE: High above the ecliptic, barely within range. We’re getting a strong fix from one of the solar-survey satellites.
GABE: Is it broadcasting?
JAKE: Negative, sir. Just sitting there.
GABE: (To himself) Waiting for us to do something ...? (Into an intercom) All-stations, all-stations! This is an alert. Prepare for immediate crossover. (Intercom off) Sara, have us ship-shape in five minutes. Steve, warm us up. Freedom, any thoughts?
FREEDOM: I’ll leave the decision up to you, sir. But please bear in mind what I said.
GABE: Yes. If we leave Mu Boötis, we’ll
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