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“As a precaution, the seas around Raoul Island have been cordoned off. Research there will be limited. William Byrd is reestablishing the Titan Project in the waters nearby to oversee the effort.”
“What about the claim that the species was born out of rock, seeded by those fragments of Theia?” Monk asked.
“Too early to say,” Painter said. “According to Dr. Reed, it’s a chicken-or-egg situation. Maybe something was already in the crystalline planetoid and emerged out of its fringes, slowly shedding its silicon nature to become what was discovered. Or it could have been some deep-sea coral ancestor that abutted against the fragment and incorporated some of its silicon properties. Either way, the species does seem to have a harmonic relationship with those masses.”
Monk frowned. “Could they truly be the great ancestors to the modern-day octopuses and other cephalopod species?”
Painter shrugged. “Dr. Reed is starting to explore that very question with Datuk Lee. They’ll be bringing in scientists who have been studying panspermia, the theory that life on Earth may have been seeded—or at least, partially so—by cosmic bombardments. It’ll take a lot more research before anything can be substantiated or ruled out.”
Gray shifted, his thigh wincing in complaint. It reminded him that he wasn’t the only one suffering in recovery.
“I checked up on Kadir Numberi at the hospital in Jakarta,” he said. “He’s recovering from his belly wound. I talked to him about the Aboriginal connection to all of this. He’s already been invited to join the new Titan Project, to further explore the true history of his great-grandfather’s people. I think that story has yet to be fully told. He’s excited to challenge the Out-of-Africa theory of human origins.”
“I look forward to hearing what he discovers,” Painter said.
During the next hour, the three reviewed countless other details until the director finally stood up from his desk, clearly ready to dismiss them. But he motioned to Gray. “Commander Pierce, can you hang back for another moment?”
“Of course.”
Gray said his good-byes to Monk, hugging and clapping his friend on the back.
Monk pulled away with an amused twinkle in his eyes. “Having to stay after class? Sounds like someone’s in trouble.”
“What else is new?”
Monk left him with Painter.
Gray remained standing. “What did you want to talk about?”
“This.” Painter opened a drawer and pulled out a file that was stamped in red with the words TOPSECRET. “I was given permission to show you this by the Under Secretary of Defense for Intelligence and Security. It’s a deeply classified report by the newly established UAPTF.”
Gray frowned at the acronym, not recognizing it.
“The Unidentified Aerial Phenomena Task Force,” Painter explained. “The Department of the Navy leads this group, whose mission is to detect, analyze, and catalog UAPs.”
Gray stared down at the folder as Painter slid it toward him. “What does it concern?”
“It pertains to the topic we were just discussing. About the possibility that those fragments of Theia might have carried something with them, something that seeded our planet.” Painter pointed to the file. “The task force has noted an unusual pattern in UAP activity. It’s been noted by the general public, too, even drawing media attention. But it’s never been fully investigated.”
“Until now,” Gray said.
Painter nodded. “In light of all that’s happened, the task force believes its results are significant enough to share—at least with us.”
Gray opened the folder and read the title of the report:THEPREVALENCE ANDPREPONDERANCE OFUAPSINTECTONICALLYACTIVEAREAS.
Gray stiffened. “Is this true?”
“The report does show an unusual patterning of UAP activity in volcanic and earthquake-prone regions—especially along the edges of those LLSVP blobs, those regions that could be fragments of Theia.”
Gray flipped through the pages of charts and pictures. One showed a ring of blue lights surrounding a fiery caldera.
“It seems likesomeoneis monitoring these areas,” Painter said.
Gray looked up, his eyes huge, as he understood the implication. “Like gardeners tending a field they seeded.”
Painter reached over and closed the folder. “If so, let’s hope they don’t have a harvest season.”
2:00P.M. WITA
