“Our cultures are unambitious,” continued Fermi. “Largely content with the status quo. After many thousands of years of stagnation, our greatest source of entertainment and stimulation is intermingling with each other. But the Seventeen haven’t welcomed a new member in twenty-five thousand years, and the current interactions are growing more and more routine, which is one reason you’re so important. A new species added to the mix adds diversity, a new way of thought, and creates endless permutations and combinations between and among all the others that reinvigorates them all. Even if you and another culture mix worse than oil and water, this still shakes things up. Makes things interesting. And with respect to advances in technology, new cultures, even those whose technology is relatively unsophisticated, bring fresh blood, and new ways of thinking about things. Which inevitably leads to some additional progress being made.”

“Fascinating,” said Hansen. “I only wish the real Enrico Fermi could be here to discuss this with you.”

“He was one of your most brilliant scientists, without a doubt. The other three travelers from Suran also adopted names of famous humans who have speculated about the existence of aliens.”

“I can’t wait to hear what they are.”

“They took the names Drake, Sagan, and Roddenberry. To honor these visionaries of your species.”

Hansen nodded. It was perhaps a measure of his level of geekiness that he was familiar with all three, as he had been with Fermi. Frank Drake had founded the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, SETI, and had come up with what was known as the Drake equation, used to attempt to estimate the number of intelligent species in the universe. Carl Sagan had been one of the founders of the Planetary Society, which was partly dedicated to the search for extraterrestrial life. A pretty heady bunch to use as namesakes. But Roddenberry? Star Trek had been groundbreaking, but the creator of a piece of entertainment seemed out of place with the other three.

“Roddenberry?” said Hansen aloud. “Why? For his depiction of aliens?”

Unexpectedly, Fuller jumped in to answer this question before Fermi did. “No, for his prime directive concept.” Fuller said it with a measure of contempt, making no attempt to hide his disapproval. “The Seventeen apparently have a similar concept. You know, an edict about not mucking too much in our scientific development, since we’re so primitive.”

“Not primitive,” corrected Fermi. “Just unpolished and not quite … ready. There are certain basic tenets of science a species has to learn the hard way to be able to build from there.”

“Which is why they haven’t shared their computer or methods with you, correct?” guessed Hansen.

Fuller didn’t answer, but his face darkened.

“We could jump humanity ahead,” explained Fermi. “But this would be like cheating in school. Things learned the hard way tend to be learned more thoroughly.”

“You can get an A in algebra by cheating,” clarified Fuller. “But then you’re screwed in Algebra II.”

“Interesting,” said Hansen.

“Yeah?” said Fuller. “Well, what’s even more interesting is they seem to want to make a minor exception for you. When we were trying to decide what to do about you, they suggested that you were important. That your theories were correct and might get wiped out by the establishment if not given encouragement. That regardless of your stubbornness, you would eventually get drummed out of the mainstream and shunted to the scrap heap of history.”

Hansen shook his head as if he hadn’t heard right. “So one of the few times they’ve chosen to intervene—other than to watch for WMD—was on my account?”

It was all too much to digest, and Hansen’s emotions were spinning like a kaleidoscope: pride, vindication, shock, disbelief, and several others.

“You came up with your theories without their help,” said Fuller. “And you basically discovered us without their help as well. So by seeing that you’re nurtured rather than snuffed out—snuffed out scientifically,” he quickly clarified, “they aren’t breaching their ethics. It goes without saying we’d love to know how to build a quantum computer. And it looks like the only way we’ll be able to do that is through you. So we’re making an effort to turn the biggest thorn in our side—you—into an asset.”

Hansen studied Fuller’s face. “So what are you proposing?”

“You tell your advisor and others you’ve pestered that you were wrong about this quantum signature thing. Fermi and his associates are now constructing a device to block this signature, by the way, but it will take a year or two to complete. So you agree not to do experiments that will allow you to locate our new headquarters in the interim.” He paused to let this percolate. “In exchange, we’ll pull strings to get you funded for your research needs when it comes to quantum computing. Even though everyone will still think you’re a crackpot, you’ll miraculously get funding. Over the objections of the entire establishment.”

“So I go back to my life, forget this ever happened, and have a fairy godmother looking out for me?”

“Exactly. Finish your Ph.D. According to the Wraps, you’ll need all of what you’ll be learning in your graduate courses at CMU. In subjects the Wraps have no interest, or willingness, to teach you. Once you’ve graduated, we’ll sign you up under a joint project through DHS and DARPA to design a quantum computer. Which you’ll do at our headquarters, so you can consult with the Wraps. As ridiculous as it sounds, it will be like twenty questions. They won’t tell you the answer. But if you guess the right answer, they’ll wink at you.”

Fuller paused. “But from here on out, if you ever breathe a word about any of this, we’ll know. And we’ll make sure you’re put in a mental institution where God himself won’t be able to spring you—or even find you.”

Hansen offered a weak smile. “That doesn’t sound too constitutional,” he said.

“According to the Wraps’ computer—the granddaddy one back at their home planet, not the laptop version they have here—there is a much better than even chance we won’t survive as a species another ten years. These Wraps are our benefactors. The U.S. Constitution is an impressive document, but when survival of the nation is at stake, people like me have a little extra leeway. The Constitution isn’t a suicide pact.”

Hansen pursed his lips in thought, making sure he wasn’t missing anything. “Okay. I accept. You make a compelling proposal. And I will keep your secret. You can count on it.” He raised his eyebrows. “But just out of curiosity, what would have happened if I had rejected your offer?”

Fuller didn’t respond for several seconds. Finally, just the hint of a smile flickered over his face and he said, “Let’s just say it’s a good thing that none of us ever have to find out.”

29

HANSEN PARKED THE Blue Medusa in the expansive Walmart lot and his mind returned to the present. He bought a prepaid disposable cell phone, not identical to Erin’s but with the same limited functionality, and called her while pacing through the store’s endless aisles.

“Has anyone kicked down the door of your old room yet?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened the curtain as much as an inch to peer out and see what might be happening. This motel could be blanketed with twenty commandoes, and I wouldn’t know it.”

Just hearing her melodious voice was causing stirrings of arousal within him. It was a wonder mankind had to wait for Pavlov to understand the whole stimulus-response thing.

Hansen told her he had had second thoughts about attempting misdirection by planting false leads in her old room. Returning to this room was too risky.

“I agree,” she said. “I came to the same conclusion after you left.”