Fifth Contact – II
Derek escorted Connor into the police station. They were the only people there, apart from the bored looking duty sergeant on the desk, but then it was Sunday morning.
“Morning sirs,” the Garda said. “What can I do for you? Got a friend who got into a bit of trouble last night and had to sleep it off in the cells?”
“No, I’m dropping off, rather than picking up,” Derek replied.
“Oh really?”
“Yes, my friend here has been missing for five years and just turned up at my house this morning.”
“Oh a missing person.” The duty sergeant turned to a computer terminal and started to type. “So what is the person’s name?”
“My name is Connor Ryan.”
The sergeant started to enter some details and then suddenly stopped. “This had better not be a practical joke. You can be arrested for wasting police time.”
“If you want to arrest someone, then arrest me,” Connor replied. “Because, Derek here hasn’t done anything wrong.”
The sergeant looked at the screen, then at Connor and then back at the screen. He lifted a phone handset and said, “I think you’d better get someone to the front desk. There’s someone here claiming to be Connor Ryan … Yes that Connor Ryan … If you wouldn’t mind taking some seats gentlemen, someone will be here to see you shortly.”
Derek nodded and dragged Connor over to some seats. “It’s too late now,” Derek said.
“That’s fine, it’s all for the best.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Derek, I’ve been …” Connor started to say, but was interrupted as two Garda entered.
“If you would come with me,” one said to Derek. Derek followed the Garda to an interview room.
“Please take a seat. You’re Derek Jones?”
“I am,” Derek replied sitting down.
“Now Mr. Jones, we’re going to video this interview as it is standard practice. Now can you please tell me when you met Mr. Ryan again?”
“This morning when he turned up at my house …”
“Morning sirs,” the Garda said. “What can I do for you? Got a friend who got into a bit of trouble last night and had to sleep it off in the cells?”
“No, I’m dropping off, rather than picking up,” Derek replied.
“Oh really?”
“Yes, my friend here has been missing for five years and just turned up at my house this morning.”
“Oh a missing person.” The duty sergeant turned to a computer terminal and started to type. “So what is the person’s name?”
“My name is Connor Ryan.”
The sergeant started to enter some details and then suddenly stopped. “This had better not be a practical joke. You can be arrested for wasting police time.”
“If you want to arrest someone, then arrest me,” Connor replied. “Because, Derek here hasn’t done anything wrong.”
The sergeant looked at the screen, then at Connor and then back at the screen. He lifted a phone handset and said, “I think you’d better get someone to the front desk. There’s someone here claiming to be Connor Ryan … Yes that Connor Ryan … If you wouldn’t mind taking some seats gentlemen, someone will be here to see you shortly.”
Derek nodded and dragged Connor over to some seats. “It’s too late now,” Derek said.
“That’s fine, it’s all for the best.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Derek, I’ve been …” Connor started to say, but was interrupted as two Garda entered.
“If you would come with me,” one said to Derek. Derek followed the Garda to an interview room.
“Please take a seat. You’re Derek Jones?”
“I am,” Derek replied sitting down.
“Now Mr. Jones, we’re going to video this interview as it is standard practice. Now can you please tell me when you met Mr. Ryan again?”
“This morning when he turned up at my house …”
“So you are Connor Ryan?” the Garda asked Connor.
“I am.”
“The Connor Ryan who disappeared five years ago beyond the orbit of Neptune.”
“I am.”
“And where have you been?”
“I’ve been in space, trying to find my way home.”
The interviewer stopped, obviously trying to think of a sensible question.
“So how did you travel back to Earth?”
“In a spaceship.”
“And where is this spaceship?”
“It’s either where I left it, or it’s gone back into space.”
“And where did you leave it?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I might need it again, if I want to return to space.”
“So how did you come by this spaceship?”
“It is a long and complicated story and it is not really that important in the grand scheme of things.”
“So what is important?”
“I am the sole human representative of a galactic civilisation spanning several systems and containing depending on how you count them, up to eight species. And now that I have found the Earth again, I am here to see if the people of Earth would like to join up.”
“I’m afraid, that’s a bit out of my league. I don’t have authority to sign inter-galactic agreements.”
“Intra-galactic.”
“Eh?”
“Inter-galactic is between galaxies, intra-galactic is with a single galaxy. We’re restricted to part of one galaxy.”
“Oh right, well whatever, I’ve not been given authority to make such decisions.”
“Yes, but that’s why I’m here.”
The Garda was obviously intrigued. “And if we don’t join up?” has asked.
“Then I go back into space and come back for short visits.”
“In your spacecraft?”
“Of course.”
“You know I am going to have to get other people to speak to you.”
“I thought that might be the case. Just a tentative ‘yes we’re interested’ would be fine at the moment.”
“And then what?”
“Then I go and report back.”
“To the aliens?”
“Who else."
“I am.”
“The Connor Ryan who disappeared five years ago beyond the orbit of Neptune.”
“I am.”
“And where have you been?”
“I’ve been in space, trying to find my way home.”
The interviewer stopped, obviously trying to think of a sensible question.
“So how did you travel back to Earth?”
“In a spaceship.”
“And where is this spaceship?”
“It’s either where I left it, or it’s gone back into space.”
“And where did you leave it?”
“I’m not going to tell you that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I might need it again, if I want to return to space.”
“So how did you come by this spaceship?”
“It is a long and complicated story and it is not really that important in the grand scheme of things.”
“So what is important?”
“I am the sole human representative of a galactic civilisation spanning several systems and containing depending on how you count them, up to eight species. And now that I have found the Earth again, I am here to see if the people of Earth would like to join up.”
“I’m afraid, that’s a bit out of my league. I don’t have authority to sign inter-galactic agreements.”
“Intra-galactic.”
“Eh?”
“Inter-galactic is between galaxies, intra-galactic is with a single galaxy. We’re restricted to part of one galaxy.”
“Oh right, well whatever, I’ve not been given authority to make such decisions.”
“Yes, but that’s why I’m here.”
The Garda was obviously intrigued. “And if we don’t join up?” has asked.
“Then I go back into space and come back for short visits.”
“In your spacecraft?”
“Of course.”
“You know I am going to have to get other people to speak to you.”
“I thought that might be the case. Just a tentative ‘yes we’re interested’ would be fine at the moment.”
“And then what?”
“Then I go and report back.”
“To the aliens?”
“Who else."
“Mary,” Derek said as he walked back into the house after his brief and quite pleasant interview. “Let’s not tell anyone about the star map.”
“The what?”
Derek picked up the box, pressed his finger on it and watched as light filled the room. “This is a star map, of part of the galaxy, apparently. And if it’s genuine, then Connor really has met aliens and isn’t just out of his fucking mind.” Derek looked out of the window. “And if that’s true there’s a spaceship parked at Tesco’s or was it Dunn’s? Anyway, let’s see if I can find Alpha Centauri.”
There was something niggling Derek, something didn’t quite add up. Then he realised what it was. If aliens didn’t drink beer, then how come there was Murphy’s Irish Stout in space?
“The what?”
Derek picked up the box, pressed his finger on it and watched as light filled the room. “This is a star map, of part of the galaxy, apparently. And if it’s genuine, then Connor really has met aliens and isn’t just out of his fucking mind.” Derek looked out of the window. “And if that’s true there’s a spaceship parked at Tesco’s or was it Dunn’s? Anyway, let’s see if I can find Alpha Centauri.”
There was something niggling Derek, something didn’t quite add up. Then he realised what it was. If aliens didn’t drink beer, then how come there was Murphy’s Irish Stout in space?
The man in front of Connor was obviously a psychiatrist or psychologist, Connor was never too sure of the difference.
“So Mr. Ryan, you claim to have travelled to Earth in a spaceship?”
“I do.”
“And where is this spaceship?”
“It was really two spaceships, the main big one is out there in the Solar System but I landed on Earth on a smaller shuttle.”
“And where is the shuttle?”
“Either where I left it, or it has returned to the Macha.”
“Macha?”
“What I call the main spaceship. I named it after a Celtic goddess.”
The psychiatrist started to make notes.
“Are you thinking that I have some sort of god complex because I named her after a Celtic goddess?” Connor asked.
“Do you think you have some sort of God complex?”
“To be honest, I possibly do, but I’d rather not discuss that.” Connor sat back and smiled to himself; that ought to confuse the doctor of craziness.
“So why do you think you might have a God complex?”
“I said I’d rather not discuss it.”
“And do you have any proof of that this spaceship exists?”
“I don’t need any proof.”
“But I do Mr. Ryan.”
“No you don’t.”
“You see Mr. Ryan, if you continue to insist that there are spaceships and aliens without any evidence, then I will …”
“But there is evidence,” Connor replied.
“And what is that evidence?”
“That I am here, the last place anyone saw me was when we left the Gagarin to explore the anomaly and now I am back here. So ask yourself, how did I travel back through space through Terametres of empty void, if not by spaceship?”
“I do not know, but I refuse to accept that there are spaceships without any hard evidence.”
“Fine then,” Connor replied. “I’m not going to try and convince you. You asked the question and I answered it.”
The psychiatrist/ologist continued to make notes. “Now how is this spaceship powered?”
“By fusion, of hydrogen. Well I assume that. It uses hydrogen as fuel.”
“Do you not know for sure?”
“No, not really.”
“Did your alien friends not tell you?”
“No, because they don’t know either.”
“I see.” The psych-whatever he was continued to make notes.
“And how do you speak to these aliens?”
“By opening my mouth and making sounds, the same way as I am speaking to you now. I speak to them and they speak back. Except for the über-slugs. They change their colour.”
“And you can understand their languages?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting … and these slugs?”
“What about them?”
“They change colour, exactly how does that work?”
“Have you ever seen film of squid or octopuses where they change colour? I imagine a bit like that.”
The psychiatrist was writing furiously. “Are all the aliens molluscs?”
“Nope, none of them are from Earth, so none of them are molluscs. There are just similarities between them and certain Earth creatures.”
The psychiatrist or psychologist put his pen down and looked at Connor. “You know Mr. Ryan, nobody is going to take you serious if you continue with this story.”
“That’s fine. It’s Sunday today isn’t it?”
“Yes, why?”
“I’ll speak to you again on Wednesday.”
“Why what happens on Wednesday?”
“I wouldn’t like to spoil the surprise.”
“So Mr. Ryan, you claim to have travelled to Earth in a spaceship?”
“I do.”
“And where is this spaceship?”
“It was really two spaceships, the main big one is out there in the Solar System but I landed on Earth on a smaller shuttle.”
“And where is the shuttle?”
“Either where I left it, or it has returned to the Macha.”
“Macha?”
“What I call the main spaceship. I named it after a Celtic goddess.”
The psychiatrist started to make notes.
“Are you thinking that I have some sort of god complex because I named her after a Celtic goddess?” Connor asked.
“Do you think you have some sort of God complex?”
“To be honest, I possibly do, but I’d rather not discuss that.” Connor sat back and smiled to himself; that ought to confuse the doctor of craziness.
“So why do you think you might have a God complex?”
“I said I’d rather not discuss it.”
“And do you have any proof of that this spaceship exists?”
“I don’t need any proof.”
“But I do Mr. Ryan.”
“No you don’t.”
“You see Mr. Ryan, if you continue to insist that there are spaceships and aliens without any evidence, then I will …”
“But there is evidence,” Connor replied.
“And what is that evidence?”
“That I am here, the last place anyone saw me was when we left the Gagarin to explore the anomaly and now I am back here. So ask yourself, how did I travel back through space through Terametres of empty void, if not by spaceship?”
“I do not know, but I refuse to accept that there are spaceships without any hard evidence.”
“Fine then,” Connor replied. “I’m not going to try and convince you. You asked the question and I answered it.”
The psychiatrist/ologist continued to make notes. “Now how is this spaceship powered?”
“By fusion, of hydrogen. Well I assume that. It uses hydrogen as fuel.”
“Do you not know for sure?”
“No, not really.”
“Did your alien friends not tell you?”
“No, because they don’t know either.”
“I see.” The psych-whatever he was continued to make notes.
“And how do you speak to these aliens?”
“By opening my mouth and making sounds, the same way as I am speaking to you now. I speak to them and they speak back. Except for the über-slugs. They change their colour.”
“And you can understand their languages?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting … and these slugs?”
“What about them?”
“They change colour, exactly how does that work?”
“Have you ever seen film of squid or octopuses where they change colour? I imagine a bit like that.”
The psychiatrist was writing furiously. “Are all the aliens molluscs?”
“Nope, none of them are from Earth, so none of them are molluscs. There are just similarities between them and certain Earth creatures.”
The psychiatrist or psychologist put his pen down and looked at Connor. “You know Mr. Ryan, nobody is going to take you serious if you continue with this story.”
“That’s fine. It’s Sunday today isn’t it?”
“Yes, why?”
“I’ll speak to you again on Wednesday.”
“Why what happens on Wednesday?”
“I wouldn’t like to spoil the surprise.”
Connor was interviewed by three people next, well only two really. The Irish woman sat in a corner and observed, again making notes. Connor found her quite distracting. She was pretty and the second woman he had seen for about five years. The Englishman and the American took it in turns to ask questions.
“So Mr. Ryan. These aliens, are they a threat to Earth?” the Englishman asked.
“No they are not,” Connor replied wondering if they were going to play good-agent – bad-agent.
“And you know this because?”
“Because I know.”
“Do you not consider it risky bringing these aliens to Earth, after all they could have a hidden agenda.”
“No, anyway, they found the Solar System and told me. And I am quite sure that there is no hidden agenda,” Connor replied. “Now assuming that what I have said is true, do you think that the Earth would be interested in joining a federation?”
“Not without more information,” the American replied.
“Obviously.”
“So if we said yes, then what?”
“Then you would meet the aliens, not you personally, well you could if I put in a good word for you, and visit other planets. A sort of meet and greet.”
“And if we say no?”
“Then I leave and come back for short visits, you know, go to the pub, have an Indian takeaway, I’ll have to pick them up because they don’t do deliveries to other planets. I’d visit people I know, offer them shots in a spaceship, that sort of thing.”
“Then I am afraid it is going to be no for the moment,” the Englishman replied.
“Day trips to the moons of Jupiter, perhaps a long trip to see the double suns of Alpha Centauri. Not fancy a trip? I can arrange it if you like.”
“Just as well I’m not taking you seriously, or else I would think you’re trying to bribe me.”
“Well just let me know when you change your mind,” Connor replied.
“Why should we change our mind?” the American asked.
“Because you never can tell. So if you’ve said no, can I go then?”
“I’m afraid you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“We have further questions.”
“Does there not have to be a reason to detain me?” Connor asked. “Like having broken a law?”
“Well if you are telling the truth, then the security of Earth. Or if you’re not then perhaps you’re mad.”
“Well I don’t think I’m mad,” Connor replied, “and the Earth is the most secure it has been for a while.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because there is a spaceship full of friendly aliens out there somewhere and if there was a threat to the Earth, they would let me know.”
“And how would they do that?”
“By appearing in orbit and saying, can we speak to Connor Ryan please? Such and such is happening.”
“Orbit?”
“Yes it’s cloaked.”
“I see, and they speak English, these aliens?”
“Gosh no, they speak their own languages, they can’t make the same sounds as we do. But then we can’t speak their languages.”
“So how do you communicate?” the Englishman asked.
“Some of us can understand other species’ languages, and if you can’t, there are always translators.”
“Translators?”
“Boxes that translate between languages.”
“So … how many species of aliens have you met?”
“Six, if you count the Oranges and Lilacs as different species.”
“And are they all on this spaceship?”
“Fuck no.”
“Why that particular answer?”
“Because there’s one species of alien that we don’t let out much.”
“Why is that?”
“I’d rather wait and explain when a treaty is signed.”
“And if we don’t sign the treaty?”
“Then you may never find out.”
“So what happened on Hades, the object disappeared and you were still on it.”
“I will explain once everything is sorted out.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it has to be this way.”
The American put down his pen and looked at Connor, “You are going to have to answer our questions at some point, so why not answer them now?”
“Because I choose to answer them not now.”
“You realise that if you don’t answer my questions, then other people will ask them and they won’t be as pleasant.”
“Meh, I’ll survive, you don’t need to worry about me. What are they going to do? Torture me?”
“You do not seem to be bothered about this possibility?”
“I’m not.”
“They could put you a room and not give you any food or water or not let you sleep or other stuff.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Certainly not, I am just pointing out what could happen.”
“Good, I wouldn’t like you to threaten me. That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Why wouldn’t that be a good idea?”
“It just wouldn’t.”
“Mr. Ryan, are you going to give us any further information?”
“Not really, I have returned. I have made my offer and now I wait for an answer. If you can’t answer, then pass on the information to someone who can and then what that answer is will determine what happens next.”
The two secret service agents or whatever they were looked at each other. They weren’t going to get much more information from him, so Connor was escorted back to a cell.
He looked at his watch. It was Sunday afternoon. Just under three days, if he could avoid getting too annoyed at the fool questions then things would work out.
Assuming paranoia didn’t take over first.
“So Mr. Ryan. These aliens, are they a threat to Earth?” the Englishman asked.
“No they are not,” Connor replied wondering if they were going to play good-agent – bad-agent.
“And you know this because?”
“Because I know.”
“Do you not consider it risky bringing these aliens to Earth, after all they could have a hidden agenda.”
“No, anyway, they found the Solar System and told me. And I am quite sure that there is no hidden agenda,” Connor replied. “Now assuming that what I have said is true, do you think that the Earth would be interested in joining a federation?”
“Not without more information,” the American replied.
“Obviously.”
“So if we said yes, then what?”
“Then you would meet the aliens, not you personally, well you could if I put in a good word for you, and visit other planets. A sort of meet and greet.”
“And if we say no?”
“Then I leave and come back for short visits, you know, go to the pub, have an Indian takeaway, I’ll have to pick them up because they don’t do deliveries to other planets. I’d visit people I know, offer them shots in a spaceship, that sort of thing.”
“Then I am afraid it is going to be no for the moment,” the Englishman replied.
“Day trips to the moons of Jupiter, perhaps a long trip to see the double suns of Alpha Centauri. Not fancy a trip? I can arrange it if you like.”
“Just as well I’m not taking you seriously, or else I would think you’re trying to bribe me.”
“Well just let me know when you change your mind,” Connor replied.
“Why should we change our mind?” the American asked.
“Because you never can tell. So if you’ve said no, can I go then?”
“I’m afraid you can’t.”
“Why not?”
“We have further questions.”
“Does there not have to be a reason to detain me?” Connor asked. “Like having broken a law?”
“Well if you are telling the truth, then the security of Earth. Or if you’re not then perhaps you’re mad.”
“Well I don’t think I’m mad,” Connor replied, “and the Earth is the most secure it has been for a while.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because there is a spaceship full of friendly aliens out there somewhere and if there was a threat to the Earth, they would let me know.”
“And how would they do that?”
“By appearing in orbit and saying, can we speak to Connor Ryan please? Such and such is happening.”
“Orbit?”
“Yes it’s cloaked.”
“I see, and they speak English, these aliens?”
“Gosh no, they speak their own languages, they can’t make the same sounds as we do. But then we can’t speak their languages.”
“So how do you communicate?” the Englishman asked.
“Some of us can understand other species’ languages, and if you can’t, there are always translators.”
“Translators?”
“Boxes that translate between languages.”
“So … how many species of aliens have you met?”
“Six, if you count the Oranges and Lilacs as different species.”
“And are they all on this spaceship?”
“Fuck no.”
“Why that particular answer?”
“Because there’s one species of alien that we don’t let out much.”
“Why is that?”
“I’d rather wait and explain when a treaty is signed.”
“And if we don’t sign the treaty?”
“Then you may never find out.”
“So what happened on Hades, the object disappeared and you were still on it.”
“I will explain once everything is sorted out.”
“Why is that?”
“Because it has to be this way.”
The American put down his pen and looked at Connor, “You are going to have to answer our questions at some point, so why not answer them now?”
“Because I choose to answer them not now.”
“You realise that if you don’t answer my questions, then other people will ask them and they won’t be as pleasant.”
“Meh, I’ll survive, you don’t need to worry about me. What are they going to do? Torture me?”
“You do not seem to be bothered about this possibility?”
“I’m not.”
“They could put you a room and not give you any food or water or not let you sleep or other stuff.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Certainly not, I am just pointing out what could happen.”
“Good, I wouldn’t like you to threaten me. That wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“Why wouldn’t that be a good idea?”
“It just wouldn’t.”
“Mr. Ryan, are you going to give us any further information?”
“Not really, I have returned. I have made my offer and now I wait for an answer. If you can’t answer, then pass on the information to someone who can and then what that answer is will determine what happens next.”
The two secret service agents or whatever they were looked at each other. They weren’t going to get much more information from him, so Connor was escorted back to a cell.
He looked at his watch. It was Sunday afternoon. Just under three days, if he could avoid getting too annoyed at the fool questions then things would work out.
Assuming paranoia didn’t take over first.