Something of a radical notion, Pavesi’s idea was soon shot down as the convoy turned eastward onto a dirt track. The single smaller sign they encountered along the way announced, “Lake Surprise.” Either someone had a mordant sense of humor, Dev mused, or else it was simply a charming coincidence.

As they exited their vehicle, he saw that the land surrounding the lake was only slightly higher than that body of water and equally flat. The expanse of marsh and grass that fronted the lake was broken only by occasional flare-ups of live oak and hickory, willow and ash, locust and hackberry. Small hawks patrolled the area, intent on rodent assassination. Walk eastward on the peninsula and a hiker would quickly end up in East Bay. Beyond that lay the thin strip of the Bolivar peninsula and beyond that, the Gulf.

It was dreary hot, desperately humid, and the earth underfoot exhibited a disconcerting tendency to squish underfoot. It was clear now why they had been provided with boots instead of ordinary footwear. As they were led toward the Teflon-flat, waveless expanse of Surprise Lake, the silence among the contact team and their escorts was broken only by the wet sucking sounds of boots being pulled from the muck. Despite the auditory incongruity, no one laughed. Dev had hoped for the encounter to take place on more solid ground. In case he had to run.

Raising his gaze from the GPS he held, one of the escorts halted and said simply. “Here. Stop.”

Everyone complied. Except for the Zimmers, who kept up a constant murmuring between themselves, a kind of acoustic telegraph, no one said anything. Dev thought up several amusing observations to lighten the mood only to discard them one by one. It just wasn’t the time. Humanity’s first contact with an intelligent alien species demanded that levity be set aside. This was difficult for him, but he managed.

The appearance of the arriving alien contact craft made it easier.

In mass it was larger than the biggest terrestrial aircraft. Though the silvery, almost chrome-like exterior contrasted with the somewhat darker gray of the main ship, Dev doubted the lighter coloration was in any way indicative of its occupants’ intentions. Pale blue, perhaps, might have signified something akin to optimism. Or candy-striping.

Or they might not, he told himself firmly. He was anthropomorphizing. In the litany of alien responses, bright colors might signify hostile intent. This was not the occasion in which to engage in cultural presuppositions.