AbductiCon by Alma Alexander

this, and I think it is highly irregular that they have simply been kidnapped, right along with…”
    “We’d better do something,” Libby said, interrupting, apparently oblivious that he had even been speaking – although her point did jibe exactly with what Luke had been saying. “We need to tell them – we need to let people know, before someone basically goes nuts and creates a stampede out there, if it isn’t already too late.”
    “What, you think nobody’s looked out of the window yet?” Dave said sarcastically. “You’d think that anybody with two brain cells to rub together would have panicked already, just to save time later.”
    “How do we do that ?” Xander said. “I mean, there’s the Opening Ceremonies – and we get a good turnout for that, so it might be an option – but not everyone at the con even attends them – we can’t possibly get everyone to turn up at the same place at the same time for a general announcement…”
    “There is no venue in the hotel that would support such a large number of people all in the same place, anyway,” Luke said. “The Fire Codes…”
    Dave gave him an incredulous look. “You’re flying to the freaking Moon and you’re still worrying about the freaking Fire Codes ?” he demanded.
    “We’re doing the daily newsletters anyway,” Libby said abruptly. “How about using those?”
    “Not everyone reads the gossip rag,” Xander said.
    “We could make sure everyone got a copy,” Libby said. “Even if it means standing in the corridor handing them out by hand, flyer by flyer. Make absolutely certain everyone had a copy of it in their hands. And now. Now. Tonight.”
    “But what are we going to say?” Dave asked. “Sorry, folks, we’ve been hijacked by Robot Aliens from Outer Space, wave the Earth goodbye?”
    “We can probably help with that,” Boss said. “B008199ZX5, HLL5778N44X, you will assist in the preparation of this newsletter. Please make sure the information is accurate and reassuring.”
    “Yes, that would be nice,” Andie Mae said, with a touch of acid. “It would be a lot better if we actually knew the reasons behind any of this. Maybe not everyone – maybe not the lesser crew or the passengers, maybe not yet, maybe not quite ever for some of them – but us, here, who are responsible for the ship, as it were.”
    “For now, it would help just to have it in writing,” Dave said. “A do–not–go–outside thing. Along the lines of a safety notice. We can deal with the details later, or make the necessary decisions about a need–to–know ladder. There’s always the next newsletter.”
    “And who’s going to write this thing?” Andie Mae demanded.
    “Technically, that would be me,” said Libby. “In theory, I’m on the ConCom as the newsletter producer and program booklet editor – I’m the communications node. I guess I’d better get cracking, then.”
    “Make it so,” Andie Mae commanded.
    “Right, then,” Libby said. “Bob? Helen? Or whatever alphanumeric characters pass for those names? This way, please?”
    She rose and made for one of the computers in the other room of the control suite, and the two she had named got smoothly to their feet and followed her like an honor guard.
    “Zach,” Dave said, “you’d better go out on corridor duty and report back through that positronic telepathy or whatever you all have to say howdy to one another, just in case you seen anyone going crazy early. I’ll go too. I’ll check in with Simon and see what Security’s got so far. We’ll try and keep a lid on it – I’ll make some weird shit up if I have to. But you’d better come up with something better than what I can concoct with that newsletter thing. Opening Ceremonies is in less than two hours – and I think realistically you have maybe an hour to get something organized in terms of a general announcement. Before we have a real situation on our hands. We’re lucky it’s night and not that many