Winter World (The Long Winter #1)(75)

I turn my back to the audience, letting the words sink in. It’s dead quiet in the gym, not even the sound of paper rustling.

“It’s obvious,” I continue, “that they are aware of our existence, and that they see us as a threat to their efforts to harvest our Sun. They have moved to counter that threat. Not only have they reduced the solar output reaching Earth in hopes of killing us, they have taken direct action.

“I will remind this group that when the first solar cell was spotted, our probe was disabled and likely destroyed. When the information was sent back to the ISS, the station was destroyed—as well as every satellite, telescope, and manmade object in orbit. We can conclude from these actions that the first solar cell and its makers sought to hide the scale of their presence in our solar system. When we communicated with one of these solar cells, attempting to established a dialogue, it once again attacked—the moment it learned that we were alien. And finally, when we counterattacked the solar cell, it chose to destroy itself rather than let us study it. Perhaps most importantly, the climate change on Earth accelerated rapidly after that confrontation. I believe that was a response to us fighting back. I believe all the pieces make sense now. The solar cells won’t stop until we’re wiped out.”

The prime minister of Canada raises a hand, and I acknowledge him.

“Dr. Fowler said that you had severed a piece of the artifact. Or solar cell, as you now call it. Can you apprise us as to what has become of that piece? And what the study of it has revealed?”

“That’s another good question. We did succeed in cleaving a part of the solar cell off. Unfortunately, while that piece was being ferried back to Pax by one of our drones, the solar cell reacted to our nuclear strike. The bomb detonated far outside of the radius we expected. I was separated from the Pax at that time, so I don’t know whether the drone with the sample escaped the blast. All I can say is that the sample hasn’t reached Earth yet, and frankly I’m not optimistic that it will. I’m also doubtful that its study would reveal anything that might alter the course of action I intend to propose today.”

“Thank you,” the prime minister says quietly.

I click the pointer, and my second-to-last slide appears. It’s a chart of the global average temperature. In a single image, it shows the fate of our planet and our species.

“The world is getting colder. The rate of global temperature decrease is accelerating. The solar cells are causing this. They are aware that we have moved to intervene in their plan. I believe we can expect the rate of temperature decline to increase further. I also suspect that it is within the realm of possibility that the solar cells and their makers will engage us more directly.”

The room erupts with questions, but Fowler is once again there beside me to force order. When the din recedes, I continue.

“The conclusion is this: our enemy wants our Sun’s output. They are willing to kill us to get it. They will freeze us, and if need be, they will come here to finish us.”

I let the words hang in the air. Every eye is on me.

I click the pointer one last time, and my final slide appears. It shows once again all the solar cells we’ve found.

“There is hope, however.” My words boom in the gymnasium, like a drum beating. “If our enemy is after energy, it would stand to reason that they are greatly concerned with the efficiency of gathering that energy. Energy is the currency that governs them, and its collection and conservation is their industry. As such, it wouldn’t make sense to send a fleet of these artifacts—these solar cells—across the vast expanse of space. They may not even be capable of travel outside of our solar system.”

I can tell the implication hits many people in the audience. Some of those assembled here are scientists.

“What are you saying?” It’s the president of the United States who speaks, his voice gruff, annoyed. Scared, probably.

“I’m saying that I believe the solar cells didn’t travel from outside of our solar system. I believe they were manufactured here. And that we can stop them.”





Chapter 39





Emma





At my routine appointment at the hospital, they run a battery of tests.

I sit in the consult room, waiting, Oscar by my side. He refused to stay home. Truth be told, I’m glad he’s here.

I’m nervous about the news the doctor is going to give me. A part of me wishes James was here. And a part of me is glad he’s not. He has seen me at my most vulnerable. He saved me when I was most vulnerable. And for better or worse, no matter what the reality of my health is… I want him to know it. Because if things between us grow into something more, I want him to know what he’s getting into. But I need time to process it for myself. Then I’ll tell him in my own words, when I’m ready.

The door swings open, and a redheaded British physician with a kind smile strides in. Her name is Natasha Richards, and she followed my treatment at the hospital. I like her. I trust her.

“Hello again, Emma.”

“Hi.”

She pulls the rolling stool from the wall and sits down across from me, eyes on the same level as mine, hands folded in her lap.

“So, I reviewed your chart, and I must say, I’m really impressed with your progress.”

“Great. What do the tests show?”