Date: 5/29/2440 Time: 10:08 AM
General Leonard Octavius Wood, Supreme Commander of the Amazon Military, stepped into the virtual boardroom. The titanium doors hissed closed behind him. Inside, the oval chamber pulsed with cold light. Holographic displays floated in the air—transparent projections of the most powerful corporate leaders on Earth, each joining from a different city or orbital node.
“General Wood,” intoned the AI facilitator. “Emergency session initiated. Proceed.”
Leonard gave a single nod and stepped onto the central platform.
“Thirty minutes ago, we tracked eight unidentified objects entering the system from thirty-three degrees below the ecliptic. Initial velocities exceeded three million kilometers per hour. They’ve decelerated and are now on complex, independent trajectories.”
“Alien ships?” asked Adrian Kallos, CEO of Amazon, his silver-haired projection crisp and controlled.
“That’s our working assumption,” Leonard said. “The lunar beacon activated on their approach.”
The room shifted—eight decades of dormancy had made Beacon activation almost unthinkable.
“Play the message,” said Veronica Liu, Chief Science Officer.
A calm, melodic voice filled the chamber.
“I am Captain W’ren Th’ron, senior officer of this refugee convoy. We were attacked, forced off course, and unable to resume our journey. One ship is critically damaged and under Progenitor control. It will land on your planet as safely as possible.”
Silence followed.
“A refugee convoy?” Liu asked.
Leonard nodded. “That’s what they claim. The damaged ship will make planetfall in thirty-two hours. The rest arrive roughly seventy-two hours later.”
“Progenitor control,” Kallos said slowly. “Our Beacon tech responded to them?”
“Yes. They’re broadcasting in every known format—radio, microwave, laser, even legacy encryption. Containment failed the moment they spoke.”
“I want that message suppressed,” said Harlan Reed, head of Amazon Security Solutions. His projection loomed darker than the others.
“It’s already everywhere,” Leonard replied. “We attempted a controlled reply. They answered immediately.”
“Interception options?” Kallos asked.
“Not recommended. Progenitor systems could react unpredictably—possibly trigger cascade activation across the network. We don’t know what’s buried in that tech.”
“Containment, then,” Liu said. “Medical, informational, operational.”
“They say the ship is unarmed, and their medical officer—Captain W’ren’s sister—confirms no biohazard threat. Still, we’re preparing full quarantine.”
“And you believe them?” Reed challenged.
“I believe this is the worst possible time to provoke a technological unknown.”
Kallos leaned back. “If they can activate Beacon systems, they hold a key we’ve never turned. That makes them either an opportunity—or a threat we cannot afford to mishandle.”
Leonard’s voice was steady. “Which is why I need immediate authorization: global security readiness, orbital medical units, and terrain suppression drones. We don’t know where they’ll land.”
“Granted,” Kallos said. “But once contact is made, we want negotiations—direct and exclusive. Control of Beacon tech cannot fall to Google, Meta, Samsung, or Tata.”
“The public?” Reed snapped. “They’ll know in minutes.”
“Frame it,” Liu said. “High-orbit disaster exercise. Weather data blackout if necessary. Narrative control starts now.”
Leonard’s jaw tightened. “Don’t underestimate them. If they survived pirates and FTL collapse, they’re not amateurs. And if they trusted us with this message… we don’t get a second chance.”
Kallos’s expression was unreadable. “Then don’t fail, General. If we control this, we control the next century. If we lose it…”
“I won’t,” Leonard said, already turning toward the doors.
Outside, his staff waited—silent, alert.
“We’ve got thirty-two hours,” Leonard told them. “Let’s make sure humanity’s first contact doesn’t become our last.”
