by John Carrick
“Sir…” Reid drew Major Ross’s attention from Fox’s charts. “We’ve got server crashes at farms two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen… It’s prime numbers all down the row.”
“The mirrors?” Ross asked.
“Looks like one for every three of the lost originals.”
“Take us completely offline and build a new grid from scratch. Partition a disk image and initialize all the other drives. Archive half the unaffected stock and hard start replacement procedures. Vault all unaffected mirrors and replace them.”
“Storage facilities?”
“Sink the vaults and split the archives into thirteen partitions, spread them through the belt. I want two additional black boxes on the poles of Ceres, Vesta, Pallas, and Hygiea.”
“Copy that. Sinking vaults in the Atlantic and the Pacific, Mirrors in the twelve houses, plus one in Ophiuchus. Dropping cubes on Charlie, Victor, Papa and Hotel. We are one-eighty on the vaults, with seventy-two on the mirrors and an additional twelve on the cubes.”
“I want the vaults underwater in ninety minutes.”
Reid punched in the calculations. “That will add an additional five hours travel time.”
“I don’t care if it adds five weeks, get them out of the atmosphere.”
“Yes, sir.” Reid ran a couple more options. “I can get them wet in twenty, if you like, but that is a two-week cruise.”
“Better still.”
“Copy that.” Reid went to work.
Ross pulled up Fox’s conversation with Dr. Te.
"I've been working with the interface," Fox said. "I think the Micronix can do more than just communicate."
"Such as?" Dr. Te asked.
"I think it can be detonated," Fox answered.
“This is going to be a serious problem,” Ross said.
The analog phone in the lab began to ring. Ross lowered the master volume and answered it. “What’s the word?”
“Hey, boss. We outta get some noodles tonight, like ASAP.” Ross recognized his old friend’s voice, First Sergeant King. “I have something you have just got to see to believe.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ross said, disconnecting the call and turning to Reid. “Chief, go analog and prep backup numbers for all nine.”
“Copy. We are disconnecting, and we are analog. Prepping backup numbers for the nine.”
“Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Ross exited the lab, his progress toward the parking garage displayed on the overhead security monitors.
Dr. Andrew Fox landed his transport in the bottom of the depression that had been Project Epsilon. What had formerly been pale, off-white sand had now been stained with an inch of black soot. The black spread outward, in a radial gradient, fading away from his central position. The heavy black particles swirled and settled around him, hovering above the sand.
Fox knelt in the thin layer of soft dust. He appeared to be tying his shoe. When his hand touched the item, a shock went through him. The device was unique, different; it felt angry. Unlike the original device, the Micronix, this one announced itself. It told Dr. Fox, it was the Metachron.
He lifted the small device from the floor of the crater and dropped it into his pocket. The moment the device left his hand, he felt relieved.
He stood in the center of the crater for several minutes, pondering the implications of this new development.
Several miles overhead the operators aboard Kojima chuckled. "He's good," Carlson said. "I didn't even see that. Did you see that?"
"I didn't," Bryce replied. "Smooth."
"Even the cameras didn't see it. Very smooth," Wilkins laughed.
"Too bad the new spectrometer got him," Carlson said. "Oh, what? It's not recording? Fellas, we may have a glitch with the new spectrometer, it seems it has a habit of turning the record function off."
"Noted," Bryce and Wilkins laughed.
Fox knew these men personally. They were trusted agents of the highest caliber. They had each been issued their own amplifiers, albeit with limited permissions, and the orbiting lab was composed of Micronix-formatted terillium. There was no doubt where their loyalties lie.
Ross finally arrived and made his way through the crowd outside the Noodle House. The Chinatown restaurant didn't have a proper name. The symbol simply read 'noodles' and so that was what they called it.
Despite the throng flowing past the doors, the restaurant was rarely more than half full. The lack of a wait combined with the incredibly poor service, in a foreign-speaking part of town, made Noodles a winner for the quick and dirty parlay. Throw in the fact that no windows faced the street and Ross was satisfied, regardless of the menu.
King and Snow were already seated when the major arrived. Both had ordered and been served. He waved to Jenny, the manager, who waved back. Almost as soon as he'd settled into the booth, a waiter arrived with a small cup of green tea and steaming bowl of the house specialty.
“Where have you been?” Captain Snow asked, blowing the steam from her own bowl of noodles.
“Your food is still hot, what are you crying about?” Ross replied.
“We’re on seconds,” First Sergeant King smiled. Even dressed in civilian clothes, the sergeant’s sharp flattop and massive build identified him as a cop, active military or private security. He’d retired after serving twenty years with Uncle Sam’s Misguided Children and immediately been snapped up by the Secret Service.
Still serving in the Corps, Captain Snow, though female, looked equally dangerous. Her broad shoulders and powerful arms offset her natural feminine beauty. Ross never got used to seeing her in two places at once, as one of Snow’s copies had married Dr. Fox and was now raising two kids. Ross’s nine-to-five was as commander of the primary security team for this woman’s other self and her children, Ashley and Geoff.
Major Ross was, himself, just as obvious; standing over six feet, carrying two hundred and fifty pounds of lethal muscle. He also had several handguns concealed about his person. There was no way he was ‘just another guy.’
“Sorry it took me so long. I grew a couple of tails this afternoon, so I had to stop for a quick shave.”
"What have you got against good food, anyhow?" King asked.
Captain Snow laughed.
“Since when do you have a problem with Noodles?” Ross countered. "This place is great. No crowds, half the lights don't work."
"That's so you can't see what you're eating," King laughed.
"Oh come on. They stopped serving dog years ago," Ross answered.
"That's not funny," Snow smiled. "What's the emergency, anyhow?"
King sat up. "Didn’t you hear? Epsilon? Boom, gone daddy gone.”
“What?” Snow looked shocked.
Ross and King both nodded.
“It gets worse. Seems your boyfriend…” King started.
“My husband?” Snow corrected him.
“Whatever.” King rolled his eyes.
“It does sound weird, doesn’t it?” Snow smiled.
“Well, earlier today…” the first sergeant gave a newsman’s delivery.
“Can you believe I haven’t seen him in five years?” Snow asked.
“You see him every day,” Ross said.
“Only in my dreams, when we sync. But not Me. Her.”
“You can’t be jealous of yourself,” Ross said.
“Can we get back to why I called this meeting please?” King asked.
“To be continued,” Ross said to Captain Snow.
Snow waved a hand and looked away, laughing.
“About…” King looked at his watch. “Four hours ago I got called into the Deputy Chief’s office. The buzz was that the Intel desk was all hot and bothered by something they picked up. I’m still not sure how they got it, but I got a copy of what they got…”
King pulled out a stream player and set it on the table. “This has been making the rounds upstairs. And this is not good
. But when you throw in the explosion of Epsilon a couple of hours later, after they were already wound up about this…”
“Come on already,” Snow said.
King pressed play.
Ross rolled his eyes, well aware of what was coming.
The monitor lit up with the images of Doctors Fox and Te.
"You're telling me that an equation can be used to detonate, what? That little chunk of metal you carry around? Or a gravity disk?"
"Dr Te, I think this equation could detonate any sort of deposit you feed it to, a vehicle, a building or an entire district. It could burn the stagnant terillium in the air around us," Fox said.
Captain Snow hit the pause button. “What the hell?” She shook her head in shock and confusion.
“That was 4:37.” King pointed out the date-time overlay.
“And this…” He switched the player to another stream. “This is nineteen-thirty-one, pacific standard.
The player showed a satellite image over the western Mojave. Ross immediately recognized it. The flash from the Epsilon location was unmistakable.
The camera zoomed in, but there was only smoke and dust.
The footage scaled up and was examined in slow motion by an operator. There was no warning.
One moment the buildings were there, and over the course of a few frames, a bright light spread outward, engulfing them.
The singular light then contracted, leaving only dust and smoke. In real-time, the flash lasted only a fraction of a second.
“They are saying Fox can do that, at will,” King said.
“God help us all.” Ross stared at the ceiling. “If Fox could do this, at will, do you really think this would be how he announces it?” Ross answered his own question, “No. This was an accident, plain and simple.”
"It could have been sabotage," Snow suggested.
“That’s exactly what they’re saying downtown,” King said.
“It’s not sabotage.” Ross shook his head. “It’s project failure. You don’t have to read anything into it.”
“Stanwood is saying it was deliberate. He’s saying this is Fox putting the Fed on notice. This is his shot across the bow as it were, and he’s got a lot of people onboard already. Half of the cabinet is buying into it.”
“What’s Croswell doing?” Ross asked.
“I didn’t talk to him, but I’m pretty sure he’s aware of it all. From what I hear, Stanwood has the Chief of Staff, the Attorney General, the DOJ and Homeland in his pocket. Secretary Croswell holds the Joint Chiefs, the DOD and the Agency. But if our names get leaked, the game is up. He can’t bail us out if we’re all in the same cell.”
“How did you hear about this?” Ross asked.
“You’re gonna love it. I was called in for a joint-training mission, between the Secret Service, Homeland and the Bureau. They even have reps from the Coast Guard and the DEA, to collaborate on a Dr. Fox Worst-Case-Scenario. Right now, it’s a what-if, but that’s always how it starts.
“If they force the issue… If Fox decides he isn’t interested in surrendering… If he decides to run with this, just for shits and giggles, it will destroy this administration and the country.”
“They can’t beat him,” Snow stated.
“They don’t have a hope in hell,” King agreed. “But if they throw the entire weight of the government at him, and he removes the players… Even one at a time… If he decides to take it personal and political…”
“The world will be a better place? What?” Snow asked.
“They’ll be calling him emperor, and offering him a golden crown, is what,” Ross concluded.
“That sounds nice,” Snow said.
“It’s usually followed by a series of stab wounds,” Ross said.
“But they don’t know what we know,” Snow said.
“Which is what?” Ross asked. “For all we know, he could nuke Angel City if he has a nightmare.”
“Yeah, well, I never liked this place much anyhow,” Snow said.
“Are you kidding? I Love AC! Can’t get enough of this town,” King laughed.
“That’s because you’re never here,” Ross smiled.
Chapter 8 – Otto Malvinas
Across the canyon from the Fox home, rows of houses were set into the hillside. At the crest, a series of cascading balconies concealed an operations center behind tinted panes. By their dress and bearing, it was clear the occupants were field agents of the highest caliber, all but one.
To describe Fifth Gate Citizen Otto Malvinas as portly would do the man a disservice. Otto had spent a lifetime acquiring his bulk. Weighing a stout three seventy, he boasted of being as wide as he was tall.
Upon learning of the Project Epsilon failure, Otto decided to visit the Fox homestead. He was intrigued by the pipe dream of the MCX, and felt that technological breakthroughs were best intercepted early.
As the owner of the parent company that had recently purchased Washington Security, Otto had come down with his bodyguard to inspect the operation. He and Bell had arrived late in the evening, after eleven, and now stood in the central command room with Captain Faulkner.
The captain explained that the house was filled with surveillance equipment and long-range suppressed weapons, all controlled by a master switchboard. He pointed out that the recording drives were backed up to double-blind positions. Plus, the DOD had vetted all personnel to ensure competence and loyalty.
Malvinas had many questions for the captain, and it was clear the officer's patience was being tested.
Bell asked permission to step outside for a smoke and left the command center.
A young sergeant monitoring the surveillance screens interrupted the captain and chairman Malvinas. He pointed out the arrival of a large truck on the street between the command post and the client. It touched down, and three armed operatives stepped from the back of the truck.
Upon sight of the operatives, the command post came alive with activity, surveillance systems delivering high-contrast images of the mercenaries making their way across the canyon toward the Fox home.
Otto smiled with excitement. "What happens now?" he asked.
"Now it gets fun," Captain Faulkner replied, smiling for the first time since Otto's arrival.
At the Chinatown Noodles shop, King continued his protest. “It’s Stanwood, man. He’s all over this. I told you, we need to handle him. If we don’t, it is just a matter of time till he gets our records, and when he does, it’s gonna be Goodnight Gracie, for all of us,” King made a circular gesture, but Ross and Snow both understood that he was including the six absent members of their team as well. “If we don’t get proactive here, and I mean right quick, we’re not going to have a chance.”
“He’s the National Intelligence Director. What are we going to do, go after the entire cabinet? Kill everyone who disagrees with us? Take out a bunch of intelligence directors and politicians? A coup? Are you talking about a coup? That is treasonous,” Ross pointed out.
“What about this, what about just Stanwood?” King offered.
“We can’t kill Stanwood. He’s hands off, Andrew said so,” Snow stirred her noodles.
“Yeah, well, he’s not sitting at this table,” King stated.
“They have known each other since they were kids,” Major Ross said. “Fox, Stanwood and Croswell all went to school together. We’re not killing him. If he’s gotta die, that’s for Fox to decide.”
“What about exposing him?” King suggested.
“We have to get him to break the law first,” Ross said.
“I mean to the operating system, dose him with Mike.”
“What?” Ross asked, dumbfounded.
“We know Stanwood has never been exposed to the Micronix. So… Let’s expose him.”
“That’s no kind of solution,” Ross asked. “Give our enemy our secret weapon? Why not just give him access to all our gear too? Just open up our whole operation and invite him in? Make him one of us? I don’t like the soun
d of that. Not one bit.
“There’s no guarantee it won’t make him worse,” Ross added. “He’s not stupid. If anything, it might make him a much bigger threat than Fox. You would essentially be giving him everything Fox knows, to use in any way he saw fit.
“If there is a way to detonate terillium, Joseph Stanwood is the last person we want to give that to. Like giving Stalin or Hitler the nuke instead of Groves and Roosevelt.” Ross stirred his noodles. “Let’s not forget exactly ‘who’ the bad-guy is here.”
“Okay,” King said. “Just playing along here… a bad guy who might actually have a point, who we cannot kill and cannot convert. Stanwood is going to have to come to Jesus on his own? That’s our plan here? He needs to see the light, and we are just waiting for him to open his eyes?”
“How did you not see this coming?” Ross asked Snow directly.
“Don’t blame me. I can’t predict the future any better than you can.” She dug at the noodles but didn’t eat any. “I suppose we can take comfort in the fact that he can’t really kill us, and that, as of yet, they still don’t know who we are. And Fox also gave us ALL our gear.”
“Yeah, yeah, but aside from the blue goo, and the phase cam, and the gravity harness, the six months speed-bump, sure,” King said. “But the idea of being hunted forever or imprisoned isn’t very appealing either. We are not immortal. We might be backed up, but this could all come crashing down.”
“Mister Optimism over here,” Ross said.
“Do you have any ideas, Sir?” King asked.
Major Ross shook his head. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
"Why would he call Dr. Te and tell him that?” King asked.
“Maybe he can’t guess the future any better than any of us,” Ross suggested, nodding to Snow with his eyes. “Regardless, he’s really in their crosshairs this time. They’re not going to let this go. I had to shake two guys to get here.”
Snow sighed and pushed her noodle bowl away.
