and it glided to the surface and moved quietly through the city.
It stopped, and they got out and entered what appeared to be a train station. Martha walked ahead to an intersection of passages, looked both ways, and nodded: the way was clear. Sam then touched a panel on the wall, in a pattern. In a moment the panel slid aside to reveal an opening to a stairway down. Martha rejoined them and that panel slid shut behind her.
Two flights below was a waiting train. They entered the nearest car, which they seemed to have to themselves. It was plush, more like a recreation room than a transportation vehicle, with couches, TV sets, and even a pool table.
The train moved out, slowly but smoothly. It accelerated until its speed as indicated by the passing pillars of the wall was alarming. Brom remembered that they had faster trains in China than in America; this one seemed almost supersonic.
“We can watch what we want,” Sam said, turning on a TV. “Anything from kiddie cartoons to porn.”
“Nature,” Martha said.
Immediately a competent nature program came on, this one about koala bears, which it quickly explained were not bears at all, but marsupials. Aliena watched, fascinated, holding Brom’s hand.
“Now we can talk,” Sam said on Brom’s other side. “We are participating in what we nickname the Trillion Dollar Project, vital to every major nation on Earth but unknown to the general populace. There are no headlines about it, no articles. We do not risk discussing it anywhere but in secure facilities, and even then we are careful, as you can see. Keep that in mind.”
“This relates to Aliena?” Brom asked.
“Very much so. It came into being for her, and serves her; without her it would dissipate.”
“A trillion dollars. That is hyperbole?”
“No. It is impossible to put a dollar value on every aspect of it, considering that global currencies differ and some are extremely closed mouthed about their contributions. The Chinese, for example, had built this underground rail system for other purposes, but adapted it for this goal. That trillion may be conservative, but it gives a notion of the Project’s importance.”
“This is a secret Chinese railroad, that they just gave away for our use?”
“And theirs. The Project is of preemptive importance to us all.”
“The project centered around Aliena?”
“Exactly. She is the most important person on Earth, for all that she is and must remain unknown.”
Brom was feeling a bit dizzy. “And this train is going where?”
“To the space station in the Gobi Desert.”
“Space Station!”
“Surely you didn’t think she just walked up to a corner cop and said ‘Hello, sir, I am an alien brain transplanted into a human woman. Please take me to your leader.’”
Aliena squeezed his hand without looking at him. “I did not.”
“I guess I hadn’t thought about how she came here,” Brom admitted. “She’s been keeping me pretty distracted.”
“It’s called sex,” she said. “Can you wait until this show is done? I am learning much.”
“Yes, of course,” Brom said, faintly nettled as he saw both Martha and Sam suppress knowing smirks.
She turned and kissed him on the ear. “I am teasing. Did I do it well?”
“Very well, thank you.”
She squeezed his hand again and refocused on the show.
“How did she get in touch?” Brom asked Sam.
“The alien space vessel radioed our prime computers with a message intended to be readily translatable. After a week they managed to work it out.”
“Supercomputers took a week for an easy message?”
“The starfish are significantly ahead of us technologically. Good thing they choked it down to our level, or we might never have translated it. At any rate, it was a greeting and a coding table so that we could zero in on further messages and establish direct communication.”
“This happened when?”
“About a decade ago, as I understand it. The ensuing dialogue took time, and
It stopped, and they got out and entered what appeared to be a train station. Martha walked ahead to an intersection of passages, looked both ways, and nodded: the way was clear. Sam then touched a panel on the wall, in a pattern. In a moment the panel slid aside to reveal an opening to a stairway down. Martha rejoined them and that panel slid shut behind her.
Two flights below was a waiting train. They entered the nearest car, which they seemed to have to themselves. It was plush, more like a recreation room than a transportation vehicle, with couches, TV sets, and even a pool table.
The train moved out, slowly but smoothly. It accelerated until its speed as indicated by the passing pillars of the wall was alarming. Brom remembered that they had faster trains in China than in America; this one seemed almost supersonic.
“We can watch what we want,” Sam said, turning on a TV. “Anything from kiddie cartoons to porn.”
“Nature,” Martha said.
Immediately a competent nature program came on, this one about koala bears, which it quickly explained were not bears at all, but marsupials. Aliena watched, fascinated, holding Brom’s hand.
“Now we can talk,” Sam said on Brom’s other side. “We are participating in what we nickname the Trillion Dollar Project, vital to every major nation on Earth but unknown to the general populace. There are no headlines about it, no articles. We do not risk discussing it anywhere but in secure facilities, and even then we are careful, as you can see. Keep that in mind.”
“This relates to Aliena?” Brom asked.
“Very much so. It came into being for her, and serves her; without her it would dissipate.”
“A trillion dollars. That is hyperbole?”
“No. It is impossible to put a dollar value on every aspect of it, considering that global currencies differ and some are extremely closed mouthed about their contributions. The Chinese, for example, had built this underground rail system for other purposes, but adapted it for this goal. That trillion may be conservative, but it gives a notion of the Project’s importance.”
“This is a secret Chinese railroad, that they just gave away for our use?”
“And theirs. The Project is of preemptive importance to us all.”
“The project centered around Aliena?”
“Exactly. She is the most important person on Earth, for all that she is and must remain unknown.”
Brom was feeling a bit dizzy. “And this train is going where?”
“To the space station in the Gobi Desert.”
“Space Station!”
“Surely you didn’t think she just walked up to a corner cop and said ‘Hello, sir, I am an alien brain transplanted into a human woman. Please take me to your leader.’”
Aliena squeezed his hand without looking at him. “I did not.”
“I guess I hadn’t thought about how she came here,” Brom admitted. “She’s been keeping me pretty distracted.”
“It’s called sex,” she said. “Can you wait until this show is done? I am learning much.”
“Yes, of course,” Brom said, faintly nettled as he saw both Martha and Sam suppress knowing smirks.
She turned and kissed him on the ear. “I am teasing. Did I do it well?”
“Very well, thank you.”
She squeezed his hand again and refocused on the show.
“How did she get in touch?” Brom asked Sam.
“The alien space vessel radioed our prime computers with a message intended to be readily translatable. After a week they managed to work it out.”
“Supercomputers took a week for an easy message?”
“The starfish are significantly ahead of us technologically. Good thing they choked it down to our level, or we might never have translated it. At any rate, it was a greeting and a coding table so that we could zero in on further messages and establish direct communication.”
“This happened when?”
“About a decade ago, as I understand it. The ensuing dialogue took time, and
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