Chaney’s thoughts return to his best friend and his family. He weeps openly, not caring one bit if the driver happens to notice.

Ennis Chaney wears his emotions on his sleeve, something he learned long ago from his mother. Inner strength and the tenacity to lead are no good unless one also allows himself to feel, and Chaney feels everything. Pierre Borgia feels nothing. Raised among the rich, the Secretary of State looks at life with blinders on, never pausing to consider what the other side may be feeling. This last fact weighs heavily upon the senator. The world is becoming a more complicated and dangerous place every day. Nuclear paranoia in Asia is rising. Borgia is the last person he wants to see running the country during a crisis situation.

“You all right back there, Senator?”

“Hell, no. What the hell kind of dumb-ass question is that?” Chaney’s voice is a deep rasp, unless he’s yelling, something he does quite often.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Shut up and drive the damn car.”

The driver smiles. Dean Disangro has been working for Senator Chaney for sixteen years and loves the man like a father.

“Deano, what the hell is so goddam important NASA’d want me at Goddard on a Sunday?”

“No idea. You’re the senator, I’m just a lowly paid employee—”

“Shut up. You know more about what’s going on than most of the dummies in Congress.”

“You’re NASA’s liaison, Senator. Obviously, something important’s happened for them to have the balls to summon you over the weekend.”

“Thanks, Sherlock. You have a news monitor up there?”

The driver passes him the clipboard-sized device, already set to the Washington Post. Chaney glances at the headlines concerning preparations for nuclear deterrent exercises in Asia. Grozny scheduled the event the week before Christmas. That was clever. No doubt hoping to dampen the holiday spirit.

Chaney tosses the monitor aside. “How’s your wife? She’s due soon, isn’t she?”

“Two weeks.”

“Wonderful.” Chaney smiles, pinching another tear from his bloodshot eyes.

Goddard Space Flight Center
Greenbelt, Maryland

Senator Chaney feels the anxious eyes of NASA, SETI, Arecibo, and God only knows who else upon him. He finishes scanning the twenty-page brief, then clears his throat, quieting the conference room. “Are you absolutely certain the radio signal originated from deep space?”

“Yes, Senator.” Brian Dodds, NASA’s executive director, looks almost apologetic.

“But you haven’t been able to pinpoint the precise origin of the signal?”

“No, sir, not yet. We’re pretty certain the source is located within Orion’s arm, our own spiral arm of the galaxy. The signal passed through the Orion Nebula, a source of massive interference, making it difficult to determine exactly how far the signal may have traveled. Assuming it did come from a planet within the Orion belt, we’re looking at a minimum distance of fifteen hundred to eighteen hundred light-years from Earth.”