7

NOT TOO FAR AWAY, IN THE OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE United Federation, a desperate silence reigned.

The President sat speechless in his chair. Only minutes before he had received the news that the Mondoshawan ship, entering the system at his invitation, had been shot down.

Only seconds before he had summoned the priest and given him the bad news.

They say it is better to give than to receive, but the President had always found it better― or at least easier―to receive bad news than to give it.

Father Cornelius had responded to the president’s words by collapsing silently in a chair. The novice, David, crouched, stunned, at his side.

Finally, Cornelius broke the silence. “We are lost!” he said simply.

At that moment, the President’s highest-ranking military commander, General Munro, entered the

office with a still-warm fax. “Mr. President,” he said, “the attack was launched by two unregistered warships.”

“Close all borders,” responded the President. “And declare a state of general alert.”

“Yes, sir.” General Munro saluted and left the room.

The President turned to another officer who stood behind him. “Try to contact these Mondoshawans,” he said. “We owe them an explanation.”

“Yes sir.”

“Lost!” repeated Father Cornelius. “Five hundred years we have been waiting, and all for nothing!”

The President laid his big hand on the priest’s small shoulder.

“Father, you should go home. Get some rest.”

The priest looked up, his eyes swimming with tears. “But the Mondoshawans… I am their contact on Earth! They will come for me.”

“Father,” the President said sternly. “This is government business now. I will keep you informed.”

He motioned to two guards, who came and helped the old man to his feet.

They escorted him out of the office, and the novice, David, followed.

The door had barely slid shut behind them before it glided open again.

A captain entered.

“Sir, the rescue team has reported from the Mondoshawan crash site.”

“Any survivors?”

“Technically speaking,” said the captain, “yes.”

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