Redemption: Area 51, #10

by Bob Mayer

  “It was on a secure channel and encrypted,” Turcotte said.

  “True, but encryption can be decrypted. One of my subsidiaries supplies the NSA with a great deal of equipment. It would be best for you to assume my reach is long and my knowledge deep. I listened to the decrypted version. A most interesting discourse, which I agree is most likely known only by us.

  “Certainly some intelligence agencies for various countries and corporations tried to listen in; whether they could decrypt what they picked up is doubtful. But if they have the information it hasn’t been released and any rumors of it have been lost among all the other conspiracies being bandied about on the Internet. We are in an age of so much information that almost none of it is intelligence. Or correct.”

  Turcotte remained quiet.

  “Which brings up a point you must have noticed,” Mrs. Parrish continued. “Why is a New Zealand officer leading a military force here in the middle of the United States representing the United Nations? Why couldn’t the US take care of security at one of its own bases?”

  “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Several possibilities,” Mrs. Parrish. “You are aware, of course, that the states of California, Oregon and Washington have seceded from these no longer United States. And Texas, which always considered itself a nation unto itself is seceding. The United States is a microcosm of the rest of the world. It’s falling apart.”

  Turcotte glanced at Rennie.

  “Also, where are the bouncers?” Mrs. Parrish indicated the empty Hanger One. “There were nine. Do you know where they are now?”

  “Not my concern,” Turcotte said. “But I will assume your long reach knows where they are.”

  “Dispersed among those who took them,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Quite a few people died fighting over them while you were on your Mars expedition.”

  “Again,” Turcotte said, “not my concern.”

  “I believe UNAOC diverted Colonel Rennie and his men here in an attempt to keep your craft from being grabbed like the bouncers,” Mrs. Parrish said. “There was also distrust of the United States given Majestic-12 was corrupted.”

  “Grabbed by whom?” Turcotte said. “You?”

  Mrs. Parrish ignored his question. “What are you going to do now? Since it does not appear you know what’s really happening. And you have little idea of what will happen.” She shifted to Colonel Rennie. “Have you briefed him at all?”

  “Some,” Rennie said. “Listen, lady, you’re not buying that ship. I don’t know how you got permission from New York to land here, but—“

  Mrs. Parrish waved a hand, turning back to Turcotte. “The world order is not only falling apart, it’s also at war between ideologies, almost religious in nature. Those are always the most brutal wars. When the aliens broadcast to the United Nations they spoke openly of the Grail and immortality. You say it crashed into Mars with the mothership and was destroyed. But there are significant numbers who believe that is a lie and that someone, perhaps you Major Turcotte, have it and are keeping it for your own nefarious reasons. When it becomes widely known you are back, and it will, many will suspect you brought it with you. Perhaps you’re keeping it. Or you’ve given the Grail to the UN. Sadly, you are not a hero to much of the world, Major Turcotte. You are the person who snatched immortality from the grasp of humanity. Or hid it. Perhaps you yourself partook of the Grail and are immortal?”

  “Bullshit,” Turcotte said. “Is that why you want the Fynbar? You think the Grail is in it?”

  “Your vulgar summation doesn’t change reality,” Mrs. Parrish said. “I know you don’t have the Grail. As you said, you thought your communication was secure so there would have been no reason for you to lie to Kelly Reynolds. Take my money. Use it to buy protection for you and your friends.” She indicated the four clustered by the Fynbar. “You will all need it.”

  “Lady—“ Rennie began, but she held up a hand.

  “Colonel Rennie, do you think you have sufficient force here to make a difference if someone wants that spaceship badly enough?”

  “I represent the United Nations,” Rennie said. “It has sufficient—“

  “The United Nations is unraveling,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Most people believe Major Turcotte acted on UNAOC orders to destroy the mothership and the Grail.” She shifted her attention. “Major Turcotte, there is also the fact that you must wonder if Colonel Rennie actually represents the United Nations. As you know, a force under the orders of a supposedly reconstituted Majestic-12 caused the damage behind you: assaulting Area 51, kidnapping Lisa Duncan. But it was a Majestic infiltrated by the Swarm. Who knows who is who anymore?”

  “I don’t know who you are,” Turcotte said.

  “I’m your friend, Major. Perhaps the only one you have right now. Outside of your comrades over there.” Then she indicated Colonel Rennie and the surrounding vehicles. “As you can see, there are forces which are not as accommodating as I am. They have weapons. I have come to you without weapons. With an offer of help. I appeal to the better angels of your nature. For yourself and friends.”

  “Is that a threat?” Turcotte asked.

  “Major Turcotte,” Mrs. Parrish said, “I never threaten anyone with whom I am conducting business. I don’t believe you comprehend how events are unfolding and what the most likely future is. I own the most powerful computers in the world and the smartest programmers. Combine that with the most efficient intelligence gathering in the world. We have been working on projections. There are numerous variables and an almost infinite number of possibilities, but only a handful project out with large degrees of possibility. And none of the most probable are good. In fact, not a single one. It’s rather bleak, I’m afraid.”

  “Why do you want the Fynbar?” Turcotte asked. “How will that change anything?”

  “What can I give you, Major, for the ship?” Mrs. Parrish asked. “Anything you desire and it will be yours. The same for your friends. Anything.”

  “Why do you want it?” Turcotte persisted. “Where do you want to go? Mars?”

  “You misunderstand me,” Mrs. Parrish said patiently. She pointed up. “As we are having this discourse, my company has launched two spacecraft. One will rendezvous with the mothership and the other with the derelict talon. Since you managed to destroy the master Guardian computer, the automatic defenses of the talon are off-line. Thus I will control space travel. Other than the Fynbar.”

  “You want a monopoly on space travel?” Turcotte asked. “To make money?”

  “Not at all. I don’t need more money.”

  “I’m the only one who can fly the Fynbar,” Turcotte said. “Without me the ship is worthless.”

  “The fact you are the only who can fly it is of no interest to me.”

  “Speed,” Turcotte said. “The Fynbar is faster than anything your engineers could invent. A lot faster.”

  “Since you made it back from Mars in a day,” Mrs. Parrish said, “it is certainly fast. But, again, not my priority.” She smiled. “There is no reason for us to have a disagreement. My offer stands. Anything you desire.”

  “Then why—“ Turcotte began, but he shifted. “I’ve answered you.”

  “It’s not an acceptable answer,” Mrs. Parrish said. “Surely we can negotiate something.”

  “You’re not taking that ship,” Rennie insisted.

  Mrs. Parrish gave him a withering look. “You can’t prevent Major Turcotte from selling the Fynbar to me.”

  “I believe I can.” Rennie indicated his troops.

  “Maria,” Mrs. Parrish said. Her assistant typed something on her flexpad.

  “What are you doing?” Rennie demanded. He put one hand to his ear, listening. “We’ve got inbound helicopters!”

  “Last chance before the dynamics of our relationship change,” Mrs. Parrish adjusted her hat.

  He didn’t respond, turned toward the Fynbar and walked away.

  Colonel Rennie drew his pistol. “You’re under arrest,” he sa
id to Mrs. Parrish. In the bed of one of the pickup trucks a soldier put a Stinger missile to his shoulder, turning toward the sound of the aircraft.

  Mrs. Parrish dismissed Rennie. “You have no authority. Worse, you don’t have the power. I suggest you have your men stand down, Colonel. You have a company of light infantry with small arms.” She gestured to her right rear, without looking. Two dozen black specks were coming in fast, just above the desert floor. “You’re heavily outgunned.” She raised her voice. “Major Turcotte! Call me when you’ve changed your mind. The means are in the briefcase.”

  Turcotte ignored her and kept walking.

  “Who is she?” Yakov asked.

  “No time for that, but she wants the Fynbar,” Turcotte said. “Get on board.”

  They scrambled into the spaceship. Turcotte sat in the pilot’s seat while Yakov secured the hatch. On the displays, Turcotte could see a dozen helicopter gunships, Apaches, followed by twelve lift helicopters, CH-53 Chinooks, approaching. The choppers were painted flat black, with no markings. He powered the Fynbar and took off, accelerating to the east and leaving Area 51 behind.

  Standing on the tarmac, Mrs. Parrish gave a slight nod of approval. “He’s very decisive.”

  “This is an act of war,” Rennie said, but he had issued orders for his men to stand down, accepting they were heavily outgunned in a very uncertain situation.

  “’War’?” Mrs. Parrish was bemused. “With whom? The United Nations? I don’t think the United Nations represents mankind anymore. I don’t believe mankind knows what mankind is.” Her gunships were circling while the troop carrying choppers hovered. Come,” she ordered her assistant. Mrs. Parrish boarded her jet, followed by George leading Maria.

  The door shut and they were soon airborne, leaving a baffled Colonel Rennie behind in a suddenly desolate and abandoned Area 51.

  BREACHING THE HELIOPAUSE

  The Swarm Battle Core was slowing. A relative statement considering it had come out of faster-than-light-transit.

  Much like the sun pushes a protective ‘bow shock’ at the front edge of the heliosphere, the Swarm Battle Core projects a ‘bow shield’ to protect it coming out of FTLT into STL. While the very nature of FTLT allows it to avoid contact with objects, the same is not true of STL, especially at the upper range of speed. The transition is the most dangerous time. Force is mass times velocity, so at just below light speed, 186,282 miles per second, the smallest particle of dust has a tremendous impact. Despite the bow shield at full strength, the Core takes damage. But damage is relative to size.

  Ignoring the dangers, 16 warships that were anchored on the outer hull of the Core launched as a pre-emptive defensive force against the unlikely event an enemy fleet was lurking in just the right spot to attack at this most vulnerable time. Carrying the inertial speed of the Core, just below light speed, the ships spread out. Within minutes, one of the warships was cored by a tennis-ball sized piece of ice. The damage was serious but not catastrophic, only 12% of the crew and some sub-systems. The ship continued on course.

  The Core is so massive that it generates its own perceptive gravity field. It is an oblate spheroid rotating around its minor axis. Its major axis is six thousand miles, making it just two thousand miles smaller than Earth’s equator, while the minor (vertical) axis is four thousand, half of Earth’s polar axis. However, because it is mostly hollow, it has much less mass than Earth, thus much less gravitational pull.

  The surface is black, fractured with red from within in random patterns due to the unique nature of its outer hull.

  SWARM BATTLE CORE

  The reason for the red is that the surface is under constant repair and is a combination of animate and inanimate material. The black inanimate is the dead exoskeleton. The red is where living cells much like coral grow outward regenerating the twenty-mile thick exoskeleton of the Battle Core.

  The surface bears the scars of both war and STL travel at high speeds. At one point, there is a crater over fifteen miles deep, the result of an encounter with a small asteroid while at high STL. A three-mile deep canyon, triple the depth of the Grand Canyon on Earth, stretches in a straight line for over two hundred miles, the significant scar from a battle with a Scale species most powerful weapon, but on something that big it was barely noticeable.

  Thousands of crawl drones emerged on the surface, resuming their perpetual work of repair, which was impossible at FTLT. Dozens of the drones would be destroyed by collisions with space particles, but that too was insignificant.

  Two warships were launched, set on a course for a pre-determined destination inside the edge of the heliosphere. The Swarm had been to this system twice before with scout ships.

  Any time a Swarm scout investigated a solar system, it entered at a spot that was coordinated before the scout ship left a Battle Core. As they traversed the galaxies, hundreds of scouts were sent out from Battle Cores, some with journeys of thousands of years ahead of them at fast STL. Each was given a specific location in the heliosphere of the solar system where they were to enter. These points were recorded. For this specific solar system, the Core had come out of FTLT close to that location for the first scout’s buoy as the second scout would have checked in with it.

  This particular system had warranted initial notice because of a strange radar signature that had been picked many millennia ago. While it was possible the signature had a natural source, it was more likely the result of deliberate action by an intelligent species. A scout had been sent and never heard from; More recently, the second scout had failed to report. That was sufficient to bring a Battle Core.

  The Core’s speed was dropping, but it was still moving faster than anything mankind had ever sent into space. For the present, the course was set directly for the system’s star, seventeen light-hours distant.

  THE MILKY WAY

  This system, in the Orion Arm of the Milky Way Galaxy, has a G2 main-sequence star, suitable for the development of life. A quick survey indicated there were numerous objects of varying sizes in orbit around the sun with eight of them planet-sized. Almost all the major bodies, the planets, were in roughly the same plane of orbit around the star, which was to be expected since planets normally evolved out of the same proto-planetary disk.

  That course would be adjusted once it determined where any Scale life lurked.

  ASSASSINATIONS

  MARS

  Via msat, Nyx observed the Fynbar flying away from Area 51. She directed the computer to maintain visual track of the spaceship more out of habit than curiosity. She’d only been able to see the various maneuvers of the aircraft and personnel but she assumed that whoever had arrived in the jet and been backed up by the helicopters had wanted the Fynbar. For Earth humans the craft represented a giant leap in technology, although it was subpar in several areas by Airlia standards.

  Of more concern were the two surface launches the msats had picked up from the western part of the Texas territory. The projected paths of the two spacecraft indicated they were on intercept courses with the mothership and talon. One of the craft was very large, the most powerful launch by the humans of this planet ever recorded by the Airlia.

  Which wasn’t that impressive by Airlia standards. Just enough power to get the payload into space but not enough to break orbit. Very primitive, very crude, but it was sufficient that the large ship would make it to the mothership.

  The mothership didn’t contain a ruby sphere for the FTLT drive and was damaged. However, there was much on board that would be of value to the humans. As far as the talon, the status readings indicated it was damaged but not irreparably. In fact, it was possible it might be capable of flight. Since it was STL that craft held little interest for Nyx since. If she used it to leave this solar system she would not survive any interstellar journey, even with the apparent ‘immortality’ of her species. It wasn’t exactly an infinite life, but one that lasted several thousand of years given the extensive genetic engineering history of the species and, more import
antly, the nanotechnology in their blood.

  Everything that lived eventually died.

  None of that mattered because there was nothing she could do about the humans rendezvousing with the mothership.

  But if the humans powered the talon up? Would it make a difference?

  The humans would be back to Mars even without the talon. Nyx knew this because the history of the humans indicated they had an implacable momentum. They would come back to Mars because it was here. A strange trait and not a reasonable Airlia motivation, but one her research indicated was an over-riding human impulse.

  There were so many examples of extremes in human behavior that a coherent through line of behavior was almost impossible to outline. Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Stalin’s deliberate famines which killed tens of millions, the Death Camps in Germany, but then the outpouring of compassion among humans in the face of other events; a massive airlift to feed those same people by their enemies just a few years later. There was the Christmas Truce of 1914 in World War I where the two sides played soccer in No Man’s Land, but then the same men were slaughtering each other the next day.

  She’d devoted three scrolls to this anomaly in her draft text on the species.

  Nyx laughed out loud, the sound echoing back to her in the control center.

  Who would read that now? Who would care about her research and her theories?

  One of the parameters she’d programmed into the guardian was to alert her out of deep sleep when certain thresholds were breached. Thus she’d witnessed many of the major events in human history for the past ten thousands years.

  Of course, she’d also had to factor in those events that had resulted from covert Airlia influence, such as the Black Death to cull the population of humans at a critical stage of development. Regrettably, Nyx did not have sufficient clearance to know the complete extent of Airlia interference, whether direct or indirect in human history. The Civil War between Aspasia and Artad, and the ongoing proxy battles between their Shadow had blurred the edges of human history.