Emerging into the cloud-diffused light and heat of the marina helped to raise everyone’s spirits. As they walked to the boat waiting to take them across the bay, Dev marveled at the activity around them, at the sheer ordinariness of it. So what if a giant alien spacecraft had shifted its location from Panama and was now hovering over the Gulf of Mexico? So what if rampant speculation as to the aliens’ intentions took the place of actual facts because no government seemed inclined to tell the public what was really going on? It was a nice enough morning and if one was lucky enough to have the day off from work, a day out on the water fishing or just cruising was certainly in order, even if the government had staked out a temporary no-go zone around the whole of South Point.

They didn’t know, Dev appreciated. Thus far, the four regional continental governments had managed to keep knowledge of the alien ultimatum from the general public. As far as the terrestrial population knew, rudimentary first contact was ongoing. Having spent much time in Washington, Dev knew that the secret couldn’t be kept forever. The hope of the four governments was that secrecy could be maintained until after the menacing aliens had departed. If not, there would be panic on a scale unseen and unimaginable in the modern era.

It was possible that Pavesi, at least, was having similar thoughts. It might go some way to explaining why, when their boat and its escort craft were halfway across the bay, she suddenly ran to the side, leaned over, and heaved her breakfast and everything else in her stomach into the bay. The water was green; her face was not. It was not seasickness that had suddenly afflicted her but nerves of a different kind.

Dev managed to keep his food down as they pulled up alongside the old wooden dock, scattering a flock of outraged waterfowl in the process. Then it was into the waiting Humvees and down the narrow road. The expressions on the faces of the soldiers escorting them were unchanged from yesterday. There were no signs of increased anxiousness, no suggestion of heightened nerves. The regular troops didn’t know about the ultimatum either, he concluded. The government had managed to keep the number of those individuals who did to a minimum: the president and his immediate advisors, the Joint Chiefs of Staff and their assistants, and a marginal number of civilian advisors like himself and the rest of the contact team. Undoubtedly it was the same in the halls of the Kremlin, the EU, and the People’s Republic. Dangerous knowledge had been restricted to the heads of government, the military, and those designated to make contact or analyze the results of it. Among them, still to his own surprise, was Devali Mukherjee, only son of immigrants from a poor part of a poor country.