In an April Storm

I still vividly remember the day when my life turned upside down. It was 21st of April, 2185 C.E., a calm and sunny day on which the flowers had begun to bloom on most of Earth’s northern hemisphere. Yet, in London it was a breezy and cloudy day. Strong winds mixed with raindrops, once blew through the very same buildings during the Victorian Era, did also sweep through the Federal Institute on that fateful day. The Institute, with its iconic 19th Century tower in the centre of its campus, was --- and still is --- one of the premier research institutions of the Earth Federation. As a member of the faculty, I was understandably very proud of that fact. I was in a junior position, but it was a promising start for a career of an aspirant academic.

That career ended with a summon to the department head’s office, as the gentle showers escalated into a rampaging storm on that fateful day.

“You are here.”

That was the first line I heard from Jason Goodenough, the head of my department. Loud, cheerful, and carefree as the middle-aged man usually was, those words were instead calm, sorrowful, and despondent. His face echoed his words --- a face of a man aged so much that I couldn’t recognise at first glance. His eyes, still full of anger, barely contained the tears within. In his usual black attire, the man looked like a parent at his child’s funeral, as a strange silence enveloped us.

“Jason, did your son die or something?” I finally asked, knowing his son was alive and well.

Jason chuckled, briefly interrupting his troubled decision. “As insensitive as always, Constance. No, Tom’s alive and well. He’s probably having a jolly good time at school at the moment.”

“Ah, crushed by homework as always then.”

“You and your terrible sense of humour never fail to disappoint.” Jason leaned back on his holo-ergonomic chair, his eyes staring at my face. “Ever since your fresher year, you kept defying expectations. I still remember how you made our wind tunnel go kaboom in your first year. How you were failing your exams because you overslept. I still couldn’t believe, how that Constance not only managed to graduate, but became a renowned lecturer. You even got a paper on the front page of Nature! It was about Nano-Cermet, was it? You must have impressed a lot of people…”

“You are weirding me out, chief-”

“And you even impressed aliens, apparently.”

“Eh?”

Ignoring my confusion, the department head brought up something on his screen. It was a local news channel, seemingly broadcasting live. On the screen were an officer in military uniform and a reporter, talking about some brave matter on the observation deck on a space station. Unusual, but even more so was the image behind them. It was Earth: the shape of Africa, the Americas and the Australian Bomb Crater was immediately recognisable against a blue backdrop. But besides the blue marble was some strange structure: a long cone with a slit down the middle and a circular plate to the side, it was immediately obvious that the object was a starship. But it was not a familiar one; it wasn’t white like the Federal Navy’s, nor green like the Elves’. The rapier-like starship instead had a grey, smooth, yet slightly metallic exterior, a texture that is hard to mistake.

“It’s made of Nano-Cermet… it took us years to make a few grams in a controlled lab environment. How?”

“Look closer.”

“Now that you mentioned it, it seems to be slightly glowing. A blue colour? Is it using radioactive metal…? If not, then it can only be some sort of energised armour-”

“No, Constance. Look at the size of that thing! Those Federal battleships around it are less than 1/10th of its length --- that thing must be over 20km long!”

“And it is pointed at Earth.”

“And it is pointed at Earth indeed.”

With a long sigh, the department head began to spoke, the image of the lance-like starship hanging over his head.

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The ordeal was simple: I was to about to be transferred in three weeks.

To where? A Kexteran institute, located on their home world on the Perseus Arm of the Milky Way, tens of thousands of lightyears away from Earth.

Why? The Kexterans were apparently impressed by my, albeit primitive, research paper on nano-ceramic-metal composites. They claimed my talents would be better satisfied in their arcane and advanced facilities. As weak as the motive was, their technological prowess was never a question. While usually isolationist and unconcerned with galactic matters, they were not above using force to enforce their will: the starship in Earth’s orbit is both a method of transportation, and a show of force in the case Humanity refused to comply.

Were there any pushbacks? For sure, there were. Handing over a citizen to aliens, especially, if Jason was to be believed, a “rising star in the scientific community”, would be deeply offensive and unpopular. Jason and the Institute protested as hard as they could. Alas, the government had no choice. The War had just ended, and the Federation needed every bit of help it could get: the Kexterans promised exactly that.

“So, I am getting abducted by aliens?” I grabbed my mug and took a sip. The coffee was ice-cold.

Jason gave no answer.

“I guess I don’t have to endure the Library Café’s crappy coffee anymore. I never liked it to begin with. Maybe those owl-people are a bit more well-versed in coffee-making. Some Elven spices would be nice…”

“…The Kexterans has guaranteed your safety and comfort. Apparently, they also have some scientists from other races and were used to feeding them. But you will have to accept their cybernetic implants. Their machinery, apparently, could not be operated without those…”

“And their cybernetic enhancements! Maybe they will finally fix my frail body and weak eyes. Not to mention their legendary collection of knowledge! No scientist will refuse a peek into their archives. What a good deal. I am in.”

“…Constance, drop the act.”

I smiled. “The Institute and the Government would be targeted by popular outrage if I don’t pretend to be willing, right? That’s why you summoned me here, instead of just letting intelligence agents abduct me.” I continued. “Don’t worry. I was at least half serious when I said I wanted to go.”

Jason interrupted me.

“In other news… Constance Rainsford. You have been promoted to a full professor, effective immediately.” Words came out of Jason’s mouth. “The Institute Council for it voted unanimously. That’s the least we can do. I am sorry.”

“Thanks, Jason. I think I am getting some more coffee soon, so I will take my leave.”

“Take care then.”

I stood up and walked towards the door. The glass door showed the reflection of the man: he was clenching his fists, his head had sunk deep into his shadow.

I stopped. It looks like I should ask him one last favour.

“By the way Jason, can you let me take Paddington with me?”

“That… thing you ‘borrowed’ from the Department of Robotics? That thing’s not cheap.” Jason lifted his face, and for once he smiled. “But I suppose we can’t say no. Consider it a parting gift from the Institute.”

“Thanks.” I smiled back and left the room, knowing that this would be the last time I visit that office.

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Author’s note:

Cermet is the shorthand for ceramic-metal composite material.