Better Lost Than Ever Found

Chapter 1

Dr Jack Johnson awoke as usual at 5.59am. HIs alarm buzzed a minute later. Every morning he wondered why he ever bothered turning the thing on. He always awoke at the same time, even in the dark, cramped cubicle that was effectively now his home.

They had said it was temporary. That was a year ago.

He proceeded down the corridor to the bathroom, nodding at a few other weary faces. He showered and then went to the canteen for a breakfast of reconstituted orange juice, black coffee and a donut. He was getting fat, but exercise was really the last thing on his agenda.

By 6.30am he was at his desk and immersed in his work. He had a lot to do and knew it was going to be a long day. Sure enough at 8am the latest visitor from Washington appeared unannounced.

This time however it was actually someone important - the Chairman of the Project Board which oversaw his work. This was not a Project you ever read about in the papers. You might read about the man now standing at the door of Johnson's office, but only about his day job, not what he really did.

He slowly shuffled into Jack's office. Without saying anything he slid into the red leather arm chair in the corner with a certain sense of ownership. It was the only distinctive piece of furniture in the room. Indeed it was probably the only thing that wasn't standard government issue in the whole complex. Jack was not sure where it had come from. It had just appeared in his office one day. He never used it himself.

How's it going Jack?

The Senator fitted the bill perfectly. Southern drawl, neatly trimmed graying hair, tall, lean and a generally imposing appearance set off by an expensive blue suit and a carefully chosen red and black striped silk tie that set off his sparkling light blue eyes.

In contrast Johnson himself was also in his early fifties, but large and ungainly. There was a tangled mass of red hair struggling to cover an expanding bald spot. He had bad skin and was badly shaven. It was not something he paid a lot of attention to in his morning ritual.

He wore the standard unofficial engineers uniform of badly creased dark trousers and open neck short sleeve white shirt, which had been washed with too many other things and was now actually a pale shade of grey. The mid-drift buttons were stretched by his girth, so that his even more off color singlet poked through. The shirt pocket was loaded with pens and other contraptions. He had his security badge hooked through his belt on one hip, and of all things a tape measure on the other.

Actually things are starting to come together quite nicely Fred. Over the last two tumultuous years they had struck up an odd friendship, and at least in private talked easily and directly.

I suppose you are busy? the Senator enquired, clearly not out of politeness, but with a looming agenda.

There was a shrug in response.

I need you for another briefing.

Again? I really have more important things to do. In fact he knew the request was coming, but wanted to make his annoyance clear anyway.

The Senator continued the game. No this one is important. It has been decided to bring the heads of the principal European Union countries as well as the Japanese into the fold.

Fredrick Harris made it clear he was politely issuing an order. In reality he was sympathetic to Johnson's pleas. He realized how critical Johnson's work was and how much effort he was putting in.

However the story was so incredible that whenever it was necessary to initiate new people he liked to have Johnson at his side. He needed his intimate knowledge and grasp of the subject to help disarm the inevitable skeptics.

Johnson sighed, Well I suppose it is important, and it is probably long overdue.

Harris knew Johnson was frustrated by the cautious political approach that had been taken. It limited his access to useful outside resources if nothing else.

When?

Noon.

Here?

''Yep."

OK.

Chapter 2

At noon Johnson walked into the briefing room with Senator Harris.

The room could accommodate over 100 people. Instead there were just six visitors - the Prime Ministers of the United Kingdom, Spain and Italy, the President of France and the Chancellor of Germany. Sitting to one side was the Prime Minister of Japan.

He knew who each of them was from newscasts.

They of course had no idea who he was.

There were formal introductions.

They all seemed very uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the lack of the usual horde of advisors and security staff. Despite the insistent round of diplomatic conferences and meetings that they all regularly participated in, it was very rare for them all to sit in the same room with each other - alone.

Harris started, We will proceed in English only if that is satisfactory to everyone.

They all nodded, even the French President who was well known for his strident views on language and who normally insisted on both English and French being used in line with what he insisted was long standing diplomatic practice. As everyone knew he actually had a Canadian mother who had ensured he was raised with an impeccable command of the English language. Perhaps curiosity had the better of him in this case.

On behalf of the President of the United States of America, the President of the Russian Federation, and the Chairman of the Military Council of China- all of whom I represent at this meeting....

There was a murmur of surprise around the room, particularly regarding the mention of the Chinese connection. The Japanese Prime Minister in particular transformed an already stony face into a granite stare.

.... I thank you for coming here today at such short notice and in such unusual circumstances.

Johnson wondered what on earth they had been told to get them here, particularly as here was not the White House or Capitol Hill or even an Embassy or a plush Washington DC hotel, but an underground military facility in Colorado.

It must have been even more outlandish than the truth they were about to hear.

I would like to introduce Dr Johnson. He will conduct today's briefing. He will explain who he is, and why it is that you are really here. Over to you Dr Johnson.

There were some startled looks amongst his small audience. Presumably they thought they knew why they were really there, but Jack Johnson gave them no time for reflection as he began his well-rehearsed patter.

Thank you Senator. Gentlemen I won't bore you with my background and qualifications other than to say that I am originally an astrophysicist and that I have worked for NASA most of my career where I became a Deputy Director. Five years ago I was seconded to work for the US military - I am not really at liberty to give you all the details other than that I headed up a program to develop various space based weapon systems.

There were grumbles around the room that Jack ignored.

"I am now the head of a new Project that I am about to describe. This facility is one of several scattered around the world dedicated to the Project, but the central point for all research is here - again for reasons that will become obvious. It is why we have taken you so far out of your way, because it is important that you see some things with your own eyes - otherwise you may not believe them.

I report to the Senator who is the appointed representative of the US government on the Project Board, but is also more importantly for these discussions the Chairman of that Board. He can explain better than I how that Board is constituted and operates, but as I believe he will discuss later the whole purpose of this morning's briefing is to invite your nations to join the Project.

All members of the Project may also consult my team and myself directly - and they do. While the mere existence of the Project is a highly guarded secret, it is imperative that there is a very high level of trust and information sharing within it - again for reasons that will be become obvious."

The British Prime Minister piped up, Sorry to interrupt, but does this project have a name? Can we at least know that without having to sign in blood and auction our mothers and sisters?

There were smirks around the room.

Yes sir, it is formally called Project LAP - that's Learn, Adapt, Prepare but everyone just refers to it as 'The Project'

The Project - so it's so important that no other name matters - is that the gist of it? the Englishman shot back.

Yes sir - it is.

There were a few quizzical looks and before anyone could ask anymore, Jack quickly continued.

In early 2017 while conducting testing of one of the space based weapon systems we were working on, my team detected an object that we could not identify in a strange very long range elliptical orbit. One of our satellite catchers was specially modified for a long range mission to recover the object.

The French President cut in, Satellite catcher? What is a satellite catcher?

Johnson looked at the Senator who nodded.

Monsieur, they are classified unmanned drones we use to track other countries satellites, capture them and return them to Earth for analysis. We also use them to retrieve our own spy satellites before someone can do the same to them.

There were a few startled looks. Johnson continued, The Russians have a very similar device.

And this space based weapon system you mentioned, what is this? This time it was the Spaniard.

Johnson briefly described a long range space based laser weapon that the United States was experimenting with. This was of course in breach of half a dozen different international treaties and that did not have to be explained to anyone. There was a burst of indignation around the room. Johnson thought to himself that would change pretty quickly when they realized the importance that weapon might have in the long run.

Senator Harris steeped in and calmed the situation with some characteristically diplomatic weasel words that actually said nothing, but which everyone seemed to accept as good cause for a temporary truce.

Johnson then raised his voice to get everyone's attention and get the discussion back on track.

Gentlemen - as I was saying - we captured the object we had identified and when we got it back here, into this very facility actually, it became clear that it was of extra-terrestrial origin.

There was a moments silence before the German Chancellor chuckled loudly. Most of the others leaned back in their chairs with looks of incredulity. The Japanese Prime Minister looked seriously annoyed.

Over a year later using technology we were able to salvage from this object, we detected another extra-terrestrial vessel, well actually vessels.

Jack stopped for dramatic effect and then pretended to count on his fingers - There was a mother vessel in high orbit, a landing vessel and two small transports based on this landing vessel.

The Italian Prime Minister now had a big smile on his face. I suppose you have these vessels downstairs? So this Project LAP - it is actually Project LAUGH - yes? A comedy - what is it in English - Candid Camera? he openly laughed himself.

The others now joined in. Even the Japanese Prime Minister was smirking.

Johnson continued undeterred, That's right sir we do have them downstairs. Well we don't actually have the mother ship. It got away. You can see the other ships later though, or at least what is left of them. We also have some of the crew.

Crew? This time it was the President of France, seemingly unsure whether to continue laughing or to just get up and walk out at being played for a fool.

No doubt like all leaders of major international powers, at some time he had asked his intelligence services for a briefing on UFO's. Curiosity got the better of everyone. Indeed one US President was notorious for having made such a briefing the first priority on his first day in office, expecting some major revelations on what really did happen at Roswell.

He was very disappointed.

The truth of the UFO industry was a combination of natural phenomena, wishful thinking and occasional outright fraud. There were some accidents and some secrets stumbled upon, but they were all classified military activities of one country or another.

That same truth, with varying degrees of detail, is what every leader in the room would have been told.

Except that someone was now telling them that science fiction was real after all.

Johnson sensed he needed to regain the initiative. He activated the wall length monitor at the end of the room. An image appeared of a small creature sitting at a table in a white room, apparently eating something out of a bowl.

If you like, we will go to see him when he finishes his lunch.

Johnson switched the monitor off.

There was stunned silence.

Usually he checked what the one they called Jata was doing before he pulled this stunt. The creature had some very strange habits that could be quite disconcerting. This time he just took the chance.

He now had everyone's undivided attention.

Chapter 3

It was a large room with a high ceiling and drab walls. There was a raised podium at the front of the room, with rows and rows of consoles stretching back its length.

The room was noisy. The consoles were occupied by lawyers all wearing similar tunics with high collars and long sleeves. They all seemed to be talking urgently and loudly to what I assumed were their clients.

Unfortunately I was one of those clients.

Seated next to me was a gray nondescript man who had introduced himself to me an hour ago as my lawyer. He wore a curiously old fashioned outfit, even more so than the others. I noted that his was also particularly badly tailored and worn at the seams.

I had already forgotten his name.

I didn't really know much about legal proceedings. Some of my work colleagues were fascinated and spent hours watching the legal channels and pouring over the most arcane disputes that usually involved either money or broken relationship or both. Several even regularly volunteered to be media jurors. I had never bothered as I thought the whole thing was tedious and boring.

However even I knew there was something wrong here.

For a start this was a real physical courtroom. I knew some existed as showpieces in important government buildings, but I had never heard of one actually being used for a trial. For a long time it had all been done on the media web, with the parties never even in the same room, indeed often not even on the same planet.

Secondly I couldn't see any of the usual media moderators or broadcast facilities.

When I asked my lawyer he told me this was a Homeland court - whatever that is. He seemed nervous - which did not exactly fill me with confidence. He also mentioned that the media had been barred.

I had never heard of the media being barred from anything.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing. For once I was quite happy to be as anonymous as possible.

There were police stationed around the room. I was not sure why as we hardly looked like hardened criminals.

Suddenly some strange music filled the room - like some of the marching tunes that were popular on festival days.

In front of the podium an elderly man in a long striped robe sat behind a desk He stood and commanded in a surprisingly vigorous voice, Stand and Show Respect!

Everyone stood.

I followed for no good reason other than it was obviously the right thing to do.

After a short while a tall, distinguished looking middle aged gentleman appeared from a side door, plainly dressed in long, elegant white garb. The man's keen eyes scanned the room as he took his place on the podium. He sat and after a dignified pause we all followed suit.

Sir... one of the lawyers was on his feet and began to mutter some introduction, only to be cut short by a piecing look.

He sat down.

The Attendant in the striped number shouted loudly, Defendants please rise!

There were lots of curious looks around the room and after a not too subtle nudge from my lawyer I stood up, as did about half the other people in the room.

The charges you face are gross breaches of the Censorship Laws on numerous and various counts.

There was no need to turn up the volume - the voice boomed through the large courtroom as the Attendant went on droning some diatribe of legal mumbo jumbo.

My lawyer had already told me that these were very old laws that had not been invoked for many years.

He also confessed he knew very little about them.

That was not very comforting.

He had also told me that as far as he was aware the Homeland Court of Censorship had not sat for a very long time and there had been a hurried appointment of one of the Homeland Supreme Court Judges as Acting Censor. The position of Censor still apparently existed, but was now simply an honorary title currently borne by some retired bureaucrat whose claim to fame had been the re-organization of the old Homeland Library.

He also told me that Homeland courts rarely bothered themselves with the comings and goings of a small Province such as ours and so we should also be much honored.

I am not sure my idea of being honored extended to being put on trial.

The attendant continued ...the penalty specified by law if you are found guilty is ten years transportation to a penal colony.

Even I knew that the penal colonies had been closed down a long time ago, but before I could even speculate as to the alternatives, my question was answered.

You may assume that in lieu of such transportation the appropriate penalty will involve a similar detention in a social correction institution.

It was not particularly the answer I was looking for. These institutions were famed more for their boredom than any particular form of rigorous punishment, but nevertheless not something to look forward to.

The man in white on the podium, who I assumed was the Judge, had not yet said a word. Perhaps it was impertinent on my part to think that he would.

In any event my lawyer whispered to me that his name was Gufo, and that he was apparently a much respected senior judge.

The attendant finally stopped, and after a short silence the Judge finally spoke.

I have been given permission to dispense with all the usual formalities of the Homeland Court of Censorship. His voice had a slight rasp that seemed too harsh for his age, while the soft lilting Homeland accent was entrancing, even if it did require intense concentration to decipher at times.

I was used to pompous Professors trying hard to intimidate their students. I must admit that I even did that myself from time to time. This Judge however carried himself with a sense of natural authority.

He went on, This has been done only because of the extraordinary circumstances of this trial. It was felt that the obvious inadequacy of your legal representation and the hurried circumstances in which you have been brought here, might both lead to a miscarriage of justice.

Being publically told that you are inadequate is not a pleasant experience.

As an academic I am almost used to it. It is simply part of the game to pick up a journal each month or attend a conference and be publically but politely lambasted by a colleague over the minutiae of your latest theory.

However I am not sure lawyers are as robust. By the look of the fixed expressions on a lot of faces there were some seriously wounded egos around the courtroom.

The Judge continued. If you pass from this court without sanction, be aware that the tax authorities stand ready for you to account for the revenues you have made from this venture. The broadcasting authorities have their own complaints, and many of you face censure and expulsion from your associations, colleges and other positions.

It was hardly an auspicious beginning.

With that the trial commenced with a flurry.

I was obviously not required for the initial stages and was promptly escorted from the room.

Chapter 4

I sat in my solitary cell for three days.

There was media access, but my favorite channels all seemed to be blocked somehow. I had never heard of anyone being denied access to media content, but then again I had never been in police detention before.

I had certainly never imagined myself as a criminal - a lot of things, but not a criminal.

I once had a favorite joke that I told everyone that I met, particularly women. It went along the lines that I could never be romantically interested in anyone who found me attractive - since they must have such terribly bad taste!

I eventually dropped that line after I found people didn't actually laugh, but rather looked at me sympathetically.

I blame my grandmother for much of it. When I was younger she used to continually remind me that I was ugly. She had a hide considering that my features definitely reflected her side of the family.

I accept that I am not necessarily the most physically attractive person. However I think I do have a certain debonair charm.

I was therefore particularly insulted not so long ago when one spiteful ex- partner claimed that I as dusty, dry and decrepit as my work.

I am currently single, but I have had several partners, though I suppose they don't usually last for long.

I compensate with an active social life. I frequent several bars and clubs in my neighborhood and I am well known in all of them. I even have a favorite seat in one club which the owner has emblazoned with my name.

I am quite successful professionally. I have appeared in quite a few documentaries and I am quite a well-known author in my field.

Of course my works have not exactly been best sellers, more detailed text books, and the documentaries did tend to be shown at odd times on science channels.

Apart from being generally obnoxious, my grandmother thought of herself as a bit of a philosopher. At innumerable boring family gatherings, held under the guise of some supposedly important festive occasion or another, she would gather all the grandchildren around.

She always started with, Is the ugly one here? He needs to pay particular attention. That was me.

She would then proceed to lecture us on her favorite saying - Always remember the 6 F's - fear fame and fortune, for failure and famine follow.

The other adults would nod politely. They had probably been subjected to the same diatribe when they were younger. The only entertaining part of the whole thing was my father's inevitable lengthy rendition on the way home of what a silly old hag she was.

I never thought I would see the day when my grandmother's favorite F words would come back to haunt me.

Chapter 5

On the morning of the fourth day I was taken back to the same courtroom and sat in the same molded chair. The chair did not actually physically restrain me, but certainly constrained my sense of freedom.

The music came on again and without further adieu the defendants were all standing and in a very stern voice the Judge started addressing us.

My judgment is this - having reviewed the broadcast and examined those responsible for its commercial genesis and production, I have no hesitation in finding that it was a breach of the Censorship restriction on matters which offend public morality and the good order of society. Therefore all the defendants are guilty.

I started to feel sick - very sick. I had not even had an opportunity to hear the evidence, let alone present my defense and now I was guilty.

The Judge went on, Secondly I find that such breach was perpetrated for profit. This is a serious matter which will adversely bear on the question of penalty.

Talk about inadequate legal representation. My lawyer simply sat there and stared straight ahead, as did all the others in the room.

Perhaps I had been a bit harsh on him when he visited me in my cell the night before to ask how I was faring and I told him he was an incompetent fool. He now seemed to have retreated into a petulant sulk.

The Judge rambled on for some time in what seemed to me incomprehensible jargon. Finally he came to something I did understand - When it comes to sentence the only available mitigating factor is one of Just Cause. We shall commence examination of the principal expert witnesses tomorrow.

I felt some relief, though this was quickly replaced by a cold sweat, when my lawyer pointed out in a low voice that I was going to be one of those expert witnesses.

I was suddenly overwhelmed by a very nasty feeling of anxiety that seemed to emanate in my bowels. That was never good.

The Judge continued .... In the meantime I have an application before me to release into the custody of the Provincial Government some of the defendants who have directly and deliberately profited by this scheme. I am told there is to be a further investigation as to whether there have been breaches of tax laws. I grant that application on two conditions. First the defendants are retained in custody during that investigation. Second they are delivered back to this Court in thirty days for final judgment and sentencing on the charges before them.

There was much shuffling as most of those in the courtroom stood and then filed out. I had only met the financiers behind the project once before and barely knew them so I felt no real emotion as they were led from the court.

However I had some quite close friends amongst the production crew. We had spent a lot of time together both during the expedition and afterwards. We had worked hard together and often played even harder together. Actually it was usually more play than work. I felt sorry for them.

I also felt sorry for myself.

In a much-thinned room, ten defendants now remained. I was one of them. The remaining lawyers started some idle banter amongst themselves which was quickly silenced by the court attendant. All the remaining defendants looked uniformly glum and were completely silent.

The Judge then addressed the few of us that remained.

He began in a slightly less confrontational tone, The onus of establishing the defense of Just Cause lies with you as the expert witnesses. It was upon your views and opinions that the content of the broadcast was ultimately based.

There was a long pause.

With a meaningful glance at each of us in turn he continued, As such the severity of the charges against you for breach of Censorship is graver than those of your fellows, who were only responsible for the production, not the actual content itself.

There was more legalese delivered in a very somber tone, which again I barely understood.

The Judge finally seemed to be concluding ...in this case Just Cause means that you must prove that was you did was truthful and that it contributed to the common good by helping illuminate the Essential Truths.

I suppose this was what I expected.

I was not so comfortable with what the Judge had to say next however, You must also understand that you bear collective responsibility for the truth of what was said in the broadcast in its totality.

He paused, presumably for effect, and continued - "That means that you bear collective guilt unless you can show that you individually were not privy to the theme and content of the broadcast