Impact (Fuzed Trilogy Book 1)

by David E Stevens

  Chandra looked up at Josh and Meadows. “I know this sounds strange, but it just became real.” She paused. “A year from now, we’ll be successful and partying our brains out, or we’ll be dead along with everyone we’ve ever known.”

  There was a moment of somber silence. Then Meadows broke it with, “I vote for the party. However, to do that, we have to accelerate this program. Let’s figure out how.”

  That night, Josh felt the weight of the world back on his shoulders. To deflect the comet, they needed to be firing 27 Blasters right now. Instead, they were still trying to produce one. Even if the Blaster worked, they might not have time to scale it up. Pacing in his small apartment, he finally decided to go out for a walk.

  It was a cold, clear, spring night with no one around.

  Under his breath, he said, “Jesse, I’ve pushed the ‘secret source’ as far as it’ll go. I feel like the little Dutch boy with his finger in the dike. I may have an elevated sense of paranoia, but I also have elevated senses. Someone is watching me. I could sure use some help.”

  There will be a small precursor to the comet.

  “That wasn’t what I had in mind.” He paused. “What do you mean precursor?”

  Once again, an image appeared in his mind, but somehow he knew this image was from the past — thousands of years ago. He saw a hundred-kilometer-wide, icy planet hurling into the inner solar system. As its highly elliptic orbit whipped it around the sun, heat and tidal forces tore it apart creating a cloud of comets and debris.

  Josh nodded. “So the comet is surrounded by a cloud of debris the earth will pass through?” He thought for a moment. “A spectacular meteor shower will get people’s attention. How soon?”

  Twenty-five days

  “Good!” He exhaled sharply. Despite dark premonitions of his future, talking to Jesse lowered his blood pressure. He walked in silence for a few moments, and then said, “Jesse, I just realized I ‘died’ one year ago today.” With a half-smile, he said, “I have a feeling that even if the world gets out of this in one piece, my prospects aren’t that great. Guess this would be a good time to ask if you think there’s life after death?”

  You’re alive.

  He smiled. “Outside of being given a new body, do you think consciousness survives death or does it just dissipate?”

  What do you think?

  “Why do I bother asking?” He knew the drill. “We’d all like to believe there’s some type of life after death. Every religion believes it in one form or another. But if that’s true, where are all these conscious minds now?”

  Where do your religions say they are?

  “Most of them would say heaven.”

  Where’s heaven?

  “That’s my question. If it exists, where is it? Why don’t we see any evidence?”

  How many dimensions are there?

  He sighed. “Four. Three spatial and one of time.”

  Four?

  He paused. “Well, in an attempt to tie all the major forces together, Superstring theories require more dimensions.”

  How many?

  “The leading contender, M-Theory, requires a total of 11.”

  Where are they?

  “You mean the seven extra dimensions?” He paused. “I don’t know.”

  Then how do you know they exist?

  “They’re required to make the equations balance....” he finished weakly.

  I see.

  “You know, it’s interesting, the Bible, Talmud, Qur’an and Veda all talk about seven heavens, seven levels of heaven or a heaven with seven spirits of God. And why are there seven days in a week?” He knew he was pulling a “Seinfeld” talking around Jesse’s question. “I mean, it’s easy to figure out where the day, month and year came from, but why seven days? Five would have divided into 365 better and matched the number of fingers on our hand.”

  Silence.

  He took a deep breath. “OK, OK, I admit it. If a physics equation suggests there are seven invisible dimensions — I’m good. If a religion suggests there’s an invisible heaven — I got a problem.” With a half-smile, he said, “I promise. I’ll try to keep a more open mind.” He laughed. “It really would be pretty funny if heaven is located in physics’ seven missing dimensions.”

  Meadows called a meeting one week after Josh told them the comet’s size. Josh saw Katori was already in Meadows’ office. He was sitting across the table doodling on a pad of paper.

  After Chandra came in, Smith and Lopez joined them and closed the door.

  Meadows nodded to Chandra.

  Chandra looked at Josh. “They haven’t found anything at those coordinates yet, but they just started looking.”

  Meadows nodded to Katori.

  Katori tapped his pencil on the table, set it down and looked up. Not looking happy, he said, “We need to skip the test firing at Los Alamos and do it at the Pole. It’ll buy us back a few weeks. We fire it April 17 instead of May 7.”

  Meadows nodded. “We’ll be going for broke.”

  Katori added, “We’ll be testing everything at the same time: reactors, capacitors, tracking system, alignment system, software and the Blaster. Something we’d never do on a regular program because the risk’s too high. We have to prove this thing works as soon as possible to have any chance of scaling it up in time.”

  Sheri added softly, “It’s important for another reason. When the comet is identified, it’s critical people have something to give them hope. Without hope, bad things can happen to societies.”

  Meadows said, “Like a stock market crash?”

  “And worse. With the stakes so high, government statements or promises carry little weight. Many will assume we’re lying to them to prevent panic.”

  Chandra shook her head. “People would really believe the government would lie about something this important?”

  Sheri frowned. “I’ve been involved with several government-funded studies that asked the question: if there was nothing we could do about an apocalyptic disaster, would it cause more social damage and pain to tell people? Guess what the answer was?” She let the silence answer the question. “A successful demonstration could be just the beacon people can rally around.”

  Smith cleared his throat. All eyes went to him. He said quietly, “We may have another problem. I have indications that we’re under surveillance.”

  Meadows looked surprised. “By who?”

  Smith shook his head. “I don’t know yet. They’re keeping a very low profile.”

  “Terrorists?”

  Smith shrugged.

  Chandra said, “Who on earth could possibly be opposed to what we’re doing?”

  Sheri frowned and said slowly, “Put yourself inside the head of an outside observer. What do you see?”

  Smith nodded at Sheri, but Chandra shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  Sheri said, “You might see the world’s most powerful energy-beam weapon being developed.”

  Smith, glancing at Josh, added, “You might assume the comet is nothing but a cover story.”

  Chandra just said, “How twisted would that be?”

  Meadows looked at Smith. “What should we do?”

  “Nothing yet. I’m going to drop into the background and see if I can observe the observers. If I sense a threat, I’ll bring in support. In the meantime, if you see anything out of the ordinary, do not call me. Text me using the security app I put on your phones.”

  Josh’s brain was spinning. He felt like he was looking into one of those infinity mirrors that reflected back into itself forever. He was playing a game within a game. No, it wasn’t a game. He was facing a powerful adversary, and like Jesse, it had no face.

  He said to Meadows and Smith, “In light of this, I suggest we don’t tell anyone about our plan to move the schedule up. Let’s operate as if we’re going to do the test firing in Los Alamos, and ship the Blaster to the Pole at the last minute.”

  Smith nodded. “That might be prudent.”

>   Meadows nodded. “OK.”

  As they were breaking up, Josh said, “Oh, I almost forgot. We also found out there will be a small precursor to the comet. We’re expecting a fragment big enough to put on an impressive light show. It should arrive within a few weeks.”

  Chandra nodded. “Makes sense if the comet was part of a Centaur or dwarf planet that broke up.”

  As Josh turned to leave, he noticed Smith watching him. In fact, it seemed like Smith’s eyes were always on him.

  Davidson started the second meeting by dropping a newspaper on the table with the headline, “Earth Under Threat From Comet?”

  Buster picked it up, as Davidson said, “It says the information came from a high-level but undisclosed government source. It’s not a front-page story but it’s in several major papers, and of course, the tabloids. We also got a message from the President’s Chief of Staff asking us what we know about it.”

  Buster slammed his hand on the table. “This is going to get rapidly out of control unless we shut them down.”

  CIA Operations Director Cindy Bishara said, “We also just found out from our informant that the Prophet’s predicting the arrival of a smaller comet fragment.” She looked down at her iPad. “It’s supposed to arrive in a couple weeks.”

  Buster said, “Don’t tell me, it’s too small and too dark to be easily detected.”

  “Yup.”

  Lafferty asked, “Why would he do that? He’ll expose himself as a fraud in a few weeks when the fragment doesn’t show up. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Davidson, looking thoughtful, asked, “When are they planning on test-firing this thing?”

  Bishara looked at a paper and said, “The first full-power test is scheduled at Los Alamos in about two weeks.”

  Buster said, “Amazing coincidence! They’re behind schedule, and he’s using this imaginary comet fragment to scare his people into working faster.”

  Davidson nodded. “The informant also says Fuze is scheduled to go down to the pole base before the first firing. Since all their logistics flights have to go through the Falklands for fuel, I recommend we let him get to the Falklands and arrest him there.”

  Buster frowned for a moment and then smiled. “Yes. The island’s perfect. Nowhere to run and outside the U.S. we have more options.”

  Davidson said, “I’ll work through British SIS to get permission.”

  Buster added, “There may be hostiles at the pole to protect or take the equipment.”

  “We can have commandos assigned to secure the pole base just in case,” Davidson said, looking at Glosson.

  She nodded. “I’ll ask U.S. Pacific Command to assign an arctic-trained SEAL team.”

  Davidson asked Bishara, “What about communications when we arrest the Prophet?”

  “To prevent him from warning anyone, the Brits can jam everything in and out of the Falklands once the operation starts.”

  Lafferty added, “We’ll round up all the others in the U.S. at the same time.”

  The President said, “Buster, sounds like a good plan.” He paused. “I have to tell you though, it still doesn’t add up in my mind. Why would someone who made these inroads into our system go to such an elaborate ruse? Stealing nuclear or biological weapons would have been easier.”

  Buster retorted, “He’s using fear and playing on everyone’s desire to be a hero and save the world. It’s a brilliant strategy that keeps otherwise smart men from asking too many questions. Using our own capabilities against us, it’ll make me — I mean make us — appear weak and stupid, to the rest of the world.”

  “Maybe, but it seems too much like a Mission Impossible plot.”

  A little too loud, Buster said, “If you know any agency that could be behind this, let me know!”

  The President raised his eyebrows.

  Buster sighed. “I’m sorry, sir. No one’s claiming this joker, and I don’t believe people understand what a threat he is.”

  The President said, “All right, you’ve got a green light, but if possible, I want this Prophet alive. We need to know what’s in his head.”

  As they left the White House, Davidson got a secure text. “Got a fingerprint match.”

  38

  IDENTIFY

  Waiting for them in Buster’s office, Bishara said, “The fingerprints match a John Doe found on the side of a road a year ago. He was naked and unconscious. They brought him to Kansas City Medical Center, where he remained in a coma for several days and then,” Bishara looked up at Buster, “he woke up, claiming amnesia.”

  Buster said, “I knew it! He’s a plant.” Frowning he asked, “Why did it take so long to make the fingerprint connection?”

  Bishara shook her head. “They fingerprinted him as a John Doe at the hospital but found no matches, so they contacted Homeland Security. The Bureau evaluated him as a potential threat, but guess who the evaluating psychiatrist was?”

  Buster smiled. “Dr. Sheri Lopez.”

  “Yup. They kept him under surveillance for a while, but eventually closed the case—”

  Buster interrupted, “Based on Lopez’s assessment.”

  Bishara nodded. “The problem was that when all this was done, he was still a John Doe. The computer made the fingerprint match, but with no identity attached, it ignored it. It’s a software glitch. They’re fixing it now.” Bishara continued, “The medical report indicates the Prophet was remarkably healthy and extremely intelligent. The surveillance report says,” she looked up with a raised eyebrow, “he lived with one of his nurses for several weeks, which explains some of the phone conversations we’ve tapped.”

  Buster nodded. “Bring her in when we pull the trigger.” With a malicious smile, he added, “She might provide some leverage.”

  Elizabeth’s phone rang. It was Josh. After some small talk, he said, “Things are going well, but they’re going to get a little crazy. I may not be able to talk to you for a while.” There was a pause. “I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding this time. I haven’t been very good at showing it, but I really care about you.”

  She said, “Then why does this sound like an exit speech?”

  “It’s nothing of the kind.” She heard some irritation in his voice and knew it was mostly because they couldn’t talk openly on the phone. “In fact, I’m really looking forward to an intimate discussion on certain cosmology theories. It just would be best if you stayed there for now.”

  She smiled. So, he wasn’t infinitely dense. Sounding very positive, she said, “You do whatever you need to do. I’ll be fine here.”

  As soon as she got off the phone, she called Lesia, told her there was a family emergency and she’d have to be gone a week. Then she threw some clothes in a bag, dropped Toto off with a friend and headed to D.C.

  Davidson entered the conference room. Buster was already there. “Sir, this is Carl Casey from the Intelligence and Foreign Affairs Directorate. Carl, tell him what you just told me.”

  “Sir, I was just brought into the Prophet Operation today, but I actually met this guy, Josh Fuze — the Prophet — almost a year ago.”

  “What?”

  “Yes sir, he read me into his program.”

  Buster, looking incredulous, said, “Why didn’t you tell someone!”

  “Sir, I had no idea about your operation; I wasn’t part of it. As for his program, I went through the normal paperwork channels. It was approved, and as you know—”

  Davidson finished, “You can’t talk about it once you’re read into it.”

  Carl continued, “I assumed CIA leadership was already involved.”

  Davidson laughed. “We are ... on the opposing side.” He shook his head gently. “You gotta admire how this guy works.”

  Buster glared at Davidson and turned back to Carl. “Out with it. What do you know about him?”

  “Never met him before he contacted me a year ago. We shared a close friend. He knew details and stories that confirmed it. My wife and I have even had dinner w
ith him. I’m positive he is, or was, a military officer. He speaks the lingo.”

  Buster’s eyes narrowed. “Let’s get hold of this common friend.”

  Carl shook his head. “He was killed in an F-18 crash a year ago.”

  Buster said, sarcastically, “How convenient.”

  Frowning, Davidson asked, “Carl, what’s the name of the pilot who died?”

  “Commander Andy Logan.”

  Davidson flipped through some papers. Finally, finding it, he said, “Hmm. That’s very interesting. In the computer, there’s a link between the Prophet’s security clearance and this deceased military officer. Could he be...?”

  Carl shook his head. “I was at the funeral. It was an open casket. Besides, this guy doesn’t look anything like him.”

  Davidson continued, “Carl, what’s your assessment of this man?”

  Frowning, Carl said, “He’s very intelligent, eloquent and likable, but intense. He seems like someone you’d have a beer with or follow into battle.”

  “Great! Can you tell us anything useful?” Buster said with a scowl.

  Carl continued, “Sir, we’re all skeptics by nature. If this guy’s a fake, he’s the best I’ve ever seen. Are we absolutely sure he’s not for real?”

  Buster’s face got red. “This guy comes out of nowhere, fakes amnesia and uses a dead pilot’s security clearance. What the hell do you think?”

  The Deputy jumped in. “Sir, Carl’s worked both analysis and operations. He’s been involved with many interrogations and is a good judge of character.”

  Buster continued in a loud voice, “Am I the only one who’s not living in Disneyland? This guy has us building the most powerful energy-beam weapon on the face of the earth!”

  Davidson nodded to Carl, signaling him to sit down.

  Buster continued to look shocked while vigorously chewing his gum.

  During the uncomfortable silence, Bishara jumped in. “Sir, would you like to go over the plan for securing the Antarctic base?”