detecting the solar wind of 83 Leonis! The portal is transporting the wind of their central stars to our Solar System! It's opened!"
The flow of charged particles was increasing all the time. Steve looked at the graph of its intensity, which was slowly climbing. Suddenly, the straight line of the graph curved sharply and shot up. The flow intensity had begun growing exponentially. The graph on the display seemed to have frozen, and only the scale was changing its values, measuring in ever larger units.
Three points suddenly flared up and went out inside the triangle with which the computer had outlined the position of the portal against the star-studded sky. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve noticed that the auxiliary displays were also filling with columns of figures. The sensors positioned around the portals were beginning to send a firework display of readings.
"It looks as if there are three of them this time," remarked Kimble, who up to now had been silently observing what was going on.
Clive, monitoring the sensor readings, also livened up.
"I confirm the flight of three objects through the portal, heading towards the centre of the Solar System. All three are flying in formation on parallel trajectories. Speed constant."
All at once he shuddered and jumped up in his seat.
"One of them scanned us with a laser beam... The formation is still moving without changing its flight parameters."
Steve, without showing it, sighed inwardly with relief. Now the aliens know that we have discovered their portal and know what it's for. The drones around it are positioned so that they will not interfere with the flight of the ships, and the expedition ship itself is a bit further off. Apparently, in spite of the way our last meeting ended, they must have realised that the strike against them was unintentional and therefore don't see us as a threat. That's good. Unless, of course, they've come to settle accounts with our Solar System.
"Wait." Clive began working very fast on the console. "In my opinion, it wasn't a scan, it was some sort of message," he said eventually.
"Feed the signal into the AI and let it translate it," proposed Steve.
"Damn, where's that module?" Clive knew what to do without being told, and was feverishly looking for the necessary module of the AI.
"Here it is. It's ready."
DO NOT PURSUE, DO NOT TRACK WITH TARGETING SYSTEMS.
ANY HOSTILE ACTION WILL LEAD TO INSTANT DESTRUCTION.
Steve slowly lowered himself into his seat.
"Inform Shelby," he said.
10
At the SSS Academy's annual graduation ceremony, delayed this year due to the recent emergency, MacQueen had been given the role of speaker and of presenting awards to the particularly outstanding cadets of the past year. He was the only commander of such high rank among those present, and naturally attracted the attention of the cadets because of the position he held.
Although official speeches delivered by high-ranking officials and officers are, generally speaking, made up of vague generalities and clich?s (as their position obliges them to be), MacQueen did not consider his presence an empty formality. The cadets, many of whom were in their first year, were yesterday's school pupils. Today they were being addressed by the Commander-in-Chief of the Space Fleet, who many of them had seen on television or read about in the papers. Such events make an impression, make them understand the importance of their future work, are frequently recalled, and have an influence on the personality.
MacQueen himself was no exception. In his second year at the SSS Academy, they were addressed by the Commander of the First Fleet, who left an indelible impression on the future general, although he was two or three ranks below that held by MacQueen today. MacQueen still remembered it as if it were yesterday, how one sensed his iron will, and his crushing handshake which made the joints crackle.
The future Commander-in-Chief looked at the exalted guest with pounding heart. Before him stood a space wolf, the massive leader of a mighty pack, who had earned his position through his military talent and unbending character. MacQueen had received from him a medal for exceptional success. Although this was the least important medal of his career, like a first love, it meant more to him than all those which followed.
After the speech, the cadets due for awards marched onto the stage, and MacQueen personally handed them their certificates and pinned their medals on them. On the way to the Academy, during the flight, he looked through the dossier of each of those due for awards, so that he could say something personal to them, not just the standard empty phrases. Yes, the general felt himself personally responsible for the future of the space fleet, and took it extremely seriously.
As he was shaking the hand of one of the cadets, MacQueen noticed out of the corner of his eye that there was a sudden animation among his bodyguards. Having combat experience, he felt such small changes in a situation, unnoticeable to the untrained eye, with the back of his neck. He looked at the guard commander, who took a step towards him.
"Sir," he whispered in the general's ear, "a report has come in that several hours ago, three alien ships passed through the portal heading towards the Sun. A general alarm has been declared for all branches of the armed forces. You must leave immediately for the command bunker."
MacQueen nodded.
"Forty-five seconds, then we'll go."
"Yes, sir."
The guard commander took one step back to his previous position and said something into his microphone. Behind the barrier, on the lawn, the soldiers of his guard swarmed out of the parked escort ship and spread out, taking up a defensive formation and holding their pulse weapons, although with muzzles lowered. This ship and MacQueen's own, standing a little further off, had already vented their engines in preparation for an emergency lift-off.
There was one cadet left. MacQueen unhurriedly stepped up to him and extended his hand for a handshake. After congratulating him, and apparently unaware of his guards' activities, he took the medal off the cushion, and, piercing the cadet's tunic with its pin, asked softly:
"How's the leg?"
The cadet's eyes widened in surprise. Two days previously, to mark the beginning of the academic year, he, with others of his class, had crawled onto the barrack-block roof, far from the eyes of their commanders, for a small celebration of their reunion after the annual summer leave. But they were noticed, and had to withdraw quickly. In running from roof to roof, he sprained his ankle, so was caught by the military police. There were no serious disciplinary consequences, but a note had been made in his file.
Although MacQueen did not welcome indiscipline in the Service, this case was a grey area. A real commander must on the one hand strictly observe regulations, but on the other have a certain wildness in him, so that he can achieve the impossible in combat contrary to all logic. Those who succeed in maintaining the fine balance between these two apparently mutually exclusive character traits have the potential to become great military leaders.
"It's almost healed now, sir," replied the cadet smartly, after a moment's confusion.
MacQueen finished pinning on the medal, smiled and shook his hand.
"I wish you further successes, young man," he said, in a loud voice this time.
"Thank you, sir!"
The forty-five seconds were up. The general nodded farewell to the audience and calmly stepped down from the stage.
While MacQueen was fastening his seat belt on board his spacecraft, the guard commander took from his pocket a device for generating quantum random numbers, selected '8' on the display, and pressed the button. The '8' was replaced on the screen by a '3'. This time the space fleet command post was in Bunker No. 3.
"Destination Bunker No. 3," confirmed the pilot who was observing them through a camera, and almost at the same moment, the ship soared into the sky.
Paying no attention to the overloads or the vibration, MacQueen got out his tablet, to which all the space fleet's tactical and intelligence information was downloaded in real time.
"The expeditio
n ship studying the gravity anomaly has reported the appearance of three ships of the alien civilisation. They passed through the portal at a speed of 90 km/sec. They are in triangular formation, and are continuing to move towards the centre of the system at unchanged speed."
The report included a map of the Solar System, on which the formation's flight trajectory was clearly shown. It intersected the orbit of Saturn, and was reminiscent of the flight trajectory of the first alien visitor. But this time, they were apparently not intending to stay in the orbits of the gas giants. If the vector remained unchanged, their destination appeared to be Earth itself.
The general put his tablet aside.
By this time, MacQueen's ship and its escort were already in near-Earth space, where the atmosphere was so rarefied that there was virtually no air resistance. Having accelerated to a tremendous speed, they left behind in rapidly changing succession the fields of the East Coast, the forests and lakes of Canada, the dreary landscape of Greenland and the snowfields of the North Pole. When the white lifeless desert was replaced by the leaden waters of the Arctic Ocean, the ships re-entered the atmosphere, and losing altitude in a shallow trajectory, set course for Norway.
In the icy waters of the Norwegian coast, illuminated by the dim light of the Sun sitting low in the sky, a bright star, falling from the heavens, was reflected. A minute later, the silence, apart from the sound of the cool wind and