“What happened?” asked Hansen.
“It was barbaric,” replied his guest, a faraway, haunted look in his eyes. “A carnage. An atrocity. Humanity is … brutal. Barbaric. I’m not even sure your species should be saved from itself anymore. I can’t even imagine loosing you on the galaxy. You’re like a plague.”
“Slow down,” said Hansen, his heart and mind racing. “First of all, are you okay? Physically?” he added, since it was clear that the alien was an emotional wreck.
“I’m battered but I’ll live.”
“Okay, what happened to you? Why are you here?”
The alien named Drake looked away for several seconds, the haunted look returning. “The others…” He halted as though he couldn’t go on. He turned away. “The others are all dead.”
“What others?” said Hansen. “The other Wraps?”
“Yes. And scores of humans as well. Humans who were working with us.”
Hansen felt like he had been hit with a baseball bat. Fermi dead? The emissaries who had been sent here at enormous cost to an entire civilization dead? How? Hansen didn’t have a clue about the details of their security, but it had to be unprecedented. These had been the most important four beings on the planet—apparently now down to one.
“How?” asked Hansen.
“We were betrayed,” said Drake in horror. “Utterly betrayed. By Steve Fuller.”
“What?” said Hansen, his eyebrows coming together in confusion. “Fuller is the head of the entire operation.”
But even as he said it he realized for this to have happened it almost had to have been Steve Fuller. The only person who could beat impenetrable security was the head of that security. Which explained the how. But not the why.
“Yes,” agreed Drake. “Fuller was in charge. But I’ve learned he was doing more than just working with us. For years, he was also using his extensive military connections to trade arms. He and his shadow organization have their hands in every pie across the globe.”
“That’s insane. You’re here to keep track of WMD, dictators, and disruptive elements. And you’re saying the man you were working with, the man in charge of the whole program, was the man who was supplying these same elements?”
“Yes. But not with WMD. That’s why our computer never made the connection. But when we were giving Fuller extensive lists of dangerous players around the world, we were basically putting together a customer list for him.”
“How do you know all this?” said Hansen.
“He told us. His men wiped out our bodyguards and anyone else not in his organization. They captured us. He was after our quantum computer. With it in his hands, he would have unlimited power.”
“Did he get it?”
“Physically, yes. He had been insisting that we let him use it since we arrived. Insisting that we break our own version of your prime directive. But we never gave in.”
“So he decided to take it from you?”
“Yes. But once he pulled his coup, really on himself since he was in charge, he discovered it was worthless to him. It’s programmed to only respond to Wraps. To him, it might as well be a paperweight.”
Drake looked away again. “He was furious,” continued the alien. “And when we wouldn’t tell him how to access the computer, he tortured Fermi. In front of us.”
His eyes glazed over as though this was a trauma from which he would never recover. The fact that it hadn’t driven him mad already was a miracle, given his more delicate constitution and sensibilities, and after having experienced something that would be traumatic to the most jaded human.
“Did Fermi give him what he wanted?”
“No. We were all programmed, at the genetic level, to be incapable of giving in to coercion of this type. In the end Fuller killed him. But he told us all about his arms operation while he was at it.”
The alien shook his head in horror. “I don’t understand,” he said. “Steve Fuller was our partner. How could he do this? It was like he was two people. He was so friendly and fair-minded. We all thought he was among the best of your people. How could we have been fooled so totally?”
Hansen thought of Jeffrey Dahmer and others like him. So smooth. So well liked. And yet monsters beyond compare on the inside. “I don’t know,” said Hansen. “Some people can look and act normal, even come across as compassionate, when inside they’re pure evil. I don’t understand it either.”
Drake stared at him incomprehensibly, unable to believe such evil could reside in any living thing, let along in someone able to wear the facade of good so convincingly.
“So how did you escape?” asked Hansen. “And what happened to the others?”
“The military was aware security was breached. Those independent of Fuller. They mounted a rescue attempt. During the attempt, the other two members of my species were killed, as were all of the rescuers. One man, severely injured, was able to get me out.”
The alien looked as though he was crying but no tears came out. Apparently, the Wraps had engineered this emotional cue but had forgotten to install human tear ducts, which made this act look totally surreal. “I tried to save his life,” continued Drake. “But I couldn’t. After he had saved my life.”
Hansen nodded woodenly. “And Fuller?” he asked.
Drake shook his head. “I don’t know. There was gunfire and explosions. I had my eyes closed most of the time—most on both sides were killed. Entire sections of buildings were burned to the ground or exploded into fragments. Fuller may have escaped, or he may have been killed. But without me to tell them, I’m not sure if anyone will ever know he was responsible.”
“Even if he escaped,” said Hansen with a frown, “if he decided not to resurface, the government might assume he had died trying to fight off the attack. Died a hero. One of the many who died but were unidentifiable. You have to tell them about him.”
“No,” said Drake simply. “I’ve learned from this experience. From now on I plan to limit the number of humans I trust to the absolute minimum. Especially those in a position of power. The good news is that when they don’t hear from me, they will assume I was killed and mixed in with the rubble as well.”
Hansen wondered what it would be like, not only for this to happen, but to be the last of your kind on a strange planet, without any way home.
“Okay,” said Hansen, “so you take yourself off the grid. But then what?”
“I came here sworn to a mission,” said Drake. “To save your species from itself. To be honest, I need to reevaluate if this is as laudable a goal as I had thought. I may ultimately determine the universe would be better off without you. But after giving it considerable thought I’ve decided that, for now, I will honor my commitment.” He paused. “Which is why I came to see you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“First, I had to trust someone, some human. And we’ve been watching you. You may be fooling us as much as Fuller did, but we are very impressed with your aura. In short, you’re someone I think I can trust. And you also happen to be vital to my mission. I need your expertise.”
“My expertise? You have to be kidding.”
“I need you to build a quantum computer for me. Our only one was destroyed in the battle. At least Fuller didn’t get it,” he muttered to himself.
“I’m the primitive, remember? If anyone can construct one, it’s you—not me.”
Drake shook his head. “Not true. It’s us together.” He paused as if considering how to explain. “I’m not a physicist or computer scientist on my world. And we brought a computer with us. Suppose you crash-landed on a primitive island. Just because you’ve used a cell phone your entire life, could you build one from scratch? Or a microwave oven? Or a television?”
“I get your point. But if you don’t have the skills, I certainly don’t.”
“That’s why I said together. I’m not a physicist, but I was taught big-picture things in school that can direct you. Newton was maybe the most capable and brilliant of your scientists. He invented calculus. Something you now learn in high school. But the average high school student isn’t even close to the genius he was, and couldn’t possibly understand calculus, and build upon it, the way Newton could. But if the student went back in time to when Newton was just developing his ideas, he would still know enough big-picture concepts to guide the true genius.”