“I’ve had all the courses, of course. But I’ve never been up higher than sub-orbital.”

Laakkonen was silent for several seconds, and took on a serious expression. “Maddie, this smells. We both know it. If we take the report at face value, you know what it implies, right?”

Narang’s voice was hushed. “First Contact.”

Laakkonen nodded. “With all the social and political upheaval that implies. Even without the Grey Goo or Space Invaders narratives. Tread carefully. Be very careful with what you say. We don’t want to start a panic.”

Narang had a feeling that some level of public panic was inevitable. “We’ll have to keep a very tight lid on this one.”

“While not appearing to be doing so. And something will get out eventually anyway. That’s my responsibility, Maddie. You just worry about the actual incident.” Laakkonen stood and stuck out her hand. “Good luck, Dr. Narang. Here’s hoping this turns out to be overblown.”

* * *

Six hours later, Dr. Narang was on Olympus Station, seated in a public lounge. She watched the crowds file past in both directions as she waited for her Navy contact to make an appearance. Meanwhile, the bench was comfortable, she was early, and she was in space! Olympus Station, the hub of the Solar System. Very possibly the most important place in the Solar System. From here, ships headed to the research stations at Mercury’s poles, to the orbiting platforms around Venus, the Lunar and Martian colonies, the Belt, even the Titan and Ganymede outposts.

The shuttle trip had been an experience, though. Narang decided she’d prefer to stay spaceside or groundside as long as possible. Commuting would be several layers of hell, although one might get used to it eventually.

The people walking by seemed an even mix of military, civilian professionals of one kind or another on some personal mission, and just plain tourists. Narang found herself mildly surprised that there were still people with enough wealth to consider a trip into space as nothing more than a vacation getaway. Like going to Miami. Back when there was a Florida.

Her phone buzzed, and Narang looked at the screen. Her Meetup app was registering the presence of her designated contact.

She stood and turned away from the crowds and spotted the uniformed man approaching. He’s just a baby. The officer looked like a poster boy for recruitment ads. Emphasis on boy. When had she gotten old enough to think of people that way?

The window behind him displayed a slowly rotating panorama of stars, with a bright three-quarter moon glowing in the background. A studio director would have swooned over the setup. Immaculately pressed uniform, short, wavy chestnut hair, and a good, strong chin completed the picture. She could almost believe his image had been digitally cleaned up, except this was live.

Unaware of the internal drama he was generating, he stuck out his hand. “Dr. Madhur Narang?”