Everyone scanned the list, trying to determine which was the rogue task. Sylvia was right; none of the names seemed to have anything to do with what the task was supposed to accomplish. Logan felt his heart sink when he saw Chetan look perplexed and shake his head.
“Denique Defaeco!” Valerie yelled. Everyone turned and looked at her. “Andrea’s PCD says the task is named Denique Defaeco.”
“What does that mean?” Chetan asked.
“Of course.” Logan took a deep breath as he spoke. “In Latin, it means ‘final purge.’ ” The group looked at him for only a moment before returning to the list.
With a few motions of his hand, the staff member highlighted it. He clicked to have it removed from the list; nothing happened. He clicked again. Again and again. Still, nothing happened. “They have it protected!” he cried. “Without the proper password, it can’t be removed!”
“Chetan! We need ideas, anything!” Sylvia called.
The clock read 4:40:05.
Chetan replaced the staff member in the chair and desperately started to work with the controls. “These passwords are stored in an encrypted file,” he said. “They rotate the key every hour. It would take at least thirty minutes to decrypt the one we want.”
“That’s too long!” Sylvia cried.
Logan fell into a chair and shook his head. He stared at the displays showing people from around the world preparing for Liberty Moment. The first one that caught his attention was a view of local people from the city of Dharan, just down the hillside from the Vault. They all held lit candles, and the children played with theirs, delighting in pouring the melting wax onto the ground. The combined phosphorescence from the flames illuminated the streets. Logan thought of Jordan and Jamie. He might never see his children’s smiles again. He would have given anything to be with them. If he couldn’t protect them, he would have at least wanted to be with them.
Another screen caught Logan’s attention. It showed surfers on the west coast of the NAF participating in the annual Freedom Day surfing competition. They were riding huge waves and cutting away on their boards before the waves crashed onto shore. Waves, Logan thought. He remembered what the mysterious voice had told him in his last candle vision: “Change the waves in your life, and you change how they crash.”
“Change the wave!” Logan shouted. “We need to change the wave!”
“What are you talking about?” Sylvia asked.
“It’s like mixing paint,” he explained. “Everyone knows that if you mix two different colors together, you’ll get a third color. We know the activation frequency produces a green light. We know that if we mix blue and yellow, we get green. In theory, if we take away the yellow, the green will turn into blue. Can’t you do something similar with this wavelength pulse?”
“Are you talking about a second wave?” Chetan asked.
“Yes. Yes! That might work,” Sylvia said excitedly. “If we can get the satellites to deploy a secondary wave, it will interfere and alter the frequency of the primary wave!”
“Got it! We can program a second operating task to fire at the exact same moment.” Chetan started to play with the controls and brought up a display where they could define a new task. “But we need to have that secondary frequency right now. Otherwise, we won’t have time to program all the satellites!”
Sylvia brought up an image of the light spectrum frequencies on her PCD. “We know the primary activation frequency from our testing in the lab. Just give me a second to calculate the resonance wave . . .” The clock read 4:42:01. Most of the people in the room were looking anxiously at the clock, but a few were gazing intently at Sylvia as she did the calculations. “Two hundred forty-five nanometers!” Sylvia announced. “Set the secondary wavelength to two hundred forty-five nanometers one hundred eighty degrees out of phase!”
Chetan rapidly programmed the number into the computer and confirmed the new task. “Are we sure about this?” A large flashing green button stood ready to deploy.
Logan rose from his chair. “AzvAsana,” he said, reading out loud the name that Chetan had given the task. “What’s it mean?”
“Hope,” Chetan said.
Without further hesitation, Logan pressed the button. “We’ll know in about a minute,” he said. Then he turned back to Valerie. She was no longer leaning against the desk but slumped forward, lying unconscious on the floor. “No . . .” He ran over and knelt beside her, listening to her breathing. “This can’t be happening,” he said, shaking her by the shoulders, trying to revive her. The image of Valerie’s funeral flashed through his mind again. “It can’t be true . . .”
Sylvia knelt beside them. She put one hand to Valerie’s forehead, the other to her wrist. “She’s getting colder, and her pulse is weak. Where are the damn medics?”
“Sylvia!” Chetan yelled. “We have a problem with satellite fourteen!”
Sylvia ran back to the controls and took a seat next to Chetan. “What’s the problem?”
“S-fourteen is not acknowledging the new program!”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?”
“It has entered some kind of geomagnetic storm. The link to S-fourteen is being disrupted.”
“I thought the frequency-modulation technology was supposed to take care of that.”
“Only for low-end disruptions. But the current storm is too intense. S-fourteen can’t adjust.”
“What’s going on?” Logan called. He could see Sylvia and Chetan working frantically.
“S-fourteen is pointed directly at the east coast of the NAF.” Chetan tried one last code, to no avail. “It’s too late. It’s deploying now . . .”
“Bring Washington up on the screen, and bring up the WCF lab,” Sylvia ordered. “We have to find Goshi!”
Logan joined Sylvia and Chetan at the control panel.
Within moments, Goshi’s image was projected on another display. “How’s it going out there?” he said. Director Burke was standing next to him. Alex was off to the side.
“Not very well,” Sylvia said, her voice shaking. “We can’t stop one of the satellites from deploying. It’s pointed right at Washington. You’re going to get hit hard.”
Goshi was shocked.
“Understood,” Burke said grimly. “How long?”
“Less than fifty seconds,” Sylvia said. “We’re so sorry, sir.”
Goshi dropped his head in despair, and Burke looked around at the others in the lab.
“The coffins!” Logan yelled. “Can’t we use those coffins?”
“Yes, they will act as Faraday cages and disrupt the frequency,” Sylvia said. “Goshi! Get everyone into the bio-coffins!”
Immediately, Burke and Alex started calling out instructions to everyone in the lab. Each of the three coffins was barely big enough for two people, and there were seven people in the lab. Burke and Goshi helped the others and secured the lids of two of the bio-coffins. Then they had to decide which of them was going to take the last spot in the third bio-coffin. There was a moment of awkward silence, as the two men looked at each other.
Sylvia and Logan were aghast as they saw Burke pull out his gun and point it at Goshi’s head.
“Sorry, guys,” the director said, “but I have no choice.” Then he disconnected the call.
“What the hell just happened?” Sylvia cried. “He’s going to kill Goshi!”
Logan was so stunned by Burke’s actions he couldn’t say a word.
Chetan replaced the disconnected image from the WCF lab with one from Compass Park. The park was filled with people listening to Adisa Kayin give an inspirational speech on behalf of the Council of Satraya.
“We cannot forget our fallen comrades and what they stood for. We cannot forget Cynthia Brown’s tireless efforts to remind us of our right to be free and sovereign. Remember the words from the Chronicles, ‘Should you fail to claim your freedom, rest assured that someone else will.’ ” The camera panned the cheering audience.
The reporter
then pointed to a spot across the main courtyard of the park, where another rally was taking place. It was led by Randolph Fenquist, the leader of the Sentinel Coterie. Randolph’s right-hand man, whom Logan recognized by the scar on his face and whom he had had his unpleasant encounter with a few days before, stood next to a HoloPad that projected a double-sized image of the Coterie leader. Was Randolph not actually at the park? Logan wondered. Where was he? Despite the small size of the crowd gathered around his image, they were no less boisterous.
“The time has come for change,” Randolph announced. “Those books and that Council”—he pointed to where Adisa Kayin was speaking—“have plotted for many years to enslave you by the very words they say will free you! They want you to believe that wolves can decide what sheep will have for supper. Well, I say that a well-armed sheep gets to make his own choice.” The Coterie crowd broke out in cheers.
Meanwhile, there was utter silence in the SCC, as Logan and the others helplessly watched the clock continue its march toward Liberty Moment. Now it read 4:44:50. People around the world started their countdown, exuberantly shouting out the numbers. Satellite fourteen was still rogue, and no one in the SCC knew for sure if the interference wave from the remaining sixty-five satellites in the sky would work.
“It’s too late,” Sylvia said, tears rolling down her face.
Logan went back over to Valerie and took her hand. It felt even colder now.
• • •
4:44:55.
“The Vault satellites are charging up,” Chetan said, pointing to an image of the earth and the orbiting satellites.
4:44:56, 4:44:57.
Everyone watched as the photonic core became brighter and brighter.
“Have compassion for everyone you see, for their journeys are also your own,” Logan said, reciting a line from the Chronicles as he watched the people at Compass Park.
• • •
4:44:58.
A beam of light was launched from the Vault’s domed array and struck one of the orbiting satellites. Instantly, a web of white beams connected all sixty-six orbitals.
• • •
4:44:59.
59
What is the limit of your faith?
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
AROUND THE WORLD, LIBERTY MOMENT
High atop Peel Castle, Sebastian looked into the starry sky. Next to him stood Lawrence and Anita, who was carrying a sleeping baby. Bukya had taken up a watchful position on the ledge of the tower balcony. They all watched the vault of heaven as the night sky gradually brightened. It was as if the great Northern Lights were making their way southward. Bukya let out a bark, sensing an impending event.
• • •
The crowd of people gathered around the Eiffel Tower went silent. Even the band stopped playing. People began to point up at the night sky. An eerie silence blanketed the tens of thousands of Freedom Day revelers who had enjoyed a day of celebration at the rebuilt tower. Something unusual was happening in the sky.
• • •
An iridescent blue hue emerged high above the inlet where the Sydney Opera House had once stood. In all the previous years of celebrations, there had never been anything like this. A murmur spread through the crowd that had just finished the countdown to Liberty Moment. News reporters and cameramen pointed to the sky, attempting to record all that was taking place above them.
• • •
In a moment, the blue hue spread across the entire sky over Tokyo. A humming sound was heard, its origin unknown. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. People stood transfixed as the blue light drew closer and closer to the ground. Parents pulled their children close to them. The humming noise grew louder. When the blue light arrived, people closed their eyes, mesmerized by its warmth and entranced by the humming sound that accompanied it.
• • •
Sebastian kept his eyes open and looked around. The blue light engulfed the sky as far as he could see. The baby had awakened and moved excitedly in Anita’s arms, gurgling in delight as if seeing angelic beings in the glow. The blue energy lingered for only a few moments, and as mysteriously as it had arrived, it disappeared, along with the entrancing hum.
“I dare say that has never happened before,” Lawrence said.
“Was that the blue light that was rumored to have come from the Chronicles?” Anita asked.
“Similar in color but different in frequency and intent,” Sebastian said. “This light is a sign that young Ford has altered destiny.”
“So he has succeeded!” Lawrence was exhilarated. “He has foiled the plans of the dark ones!”
Sebastian turned and looked to the western horizon. “He has succeeded for most but not for all.” He closed his eyes. The others waited for him to say more, but he did not speak for a long time.
Finally, Sebastian opened his eyes, and Bukya came down from the ledge and joined him. “After tonight, Freedom Day and Liberty Moment will once again be viewed as more than just a summer holiday. Many people have paid a great price for the world’s renewed appreciation of this important day.”
Sebastian turned to Anita and the baby. He gently stroked the baby’s cheek with his fingers. Then he turned to Lawrence and said, “In the morning, I will be making my way back to India. A friend is in need of my assistance.”
60
Always give what you can to those around you.
It matters not if they are poor or rich, young or old.
Let not your judgments be the criteria for your offerings.
—THE CHRONICLES OF SATRAYA
DHARAN, NEPAL, 4:50 A.M. LOCAL TIME, FREEDOM DAY
Logan gasped. “So many bodies.” Seated next to Valerie, who remained unconscious, he could see the monitors displaying the scenes of carnage in Washington, D.C.
The secondary interference wave had succeeded in neutralizing the Final Purging frequency around the world, except for the former east coast of the United States. As most of the planet celebrated in the enigmatic blue light heralding the arrival of Liberty Moment, Washington, D.C. and other parts of the eastern NAF states were thrown into chaos. The deadly green pulse had hit approximately eight million square kilometers. Most of the affected area under the eye of satellite fourteen was located in the Atlantic Ocean, a fact that provided little solace to the people in the SCC as the death toll became more evident on the display screens. Frantic cameramen panned the courtyard of Compass Park, which was littered with corpses.
Sylvia tried desperately to get the WCF lab back online, but the video link to the lab was down. The monitor displayed only static.
Sylvia recalled Dr. Malikei’s estimate: approximately one out of every twelve people exposed to the frequency pulse would die. She prayed that the doctor had overestimated, but the images she was seeing suggested that he had been right on target.
Logan grabbed his PCD and quickly dialed his ex-wife’s home in Nevada. Even though they were a thousand miles away from the devastation, he needed to know that his children were safe. Jordan answered his mother’s PCD, and Jamie jumped in shortly after.
“Did you see it? Did you see it?” Jamie said excitedly.
“Did you see the blue light everywhere, Dad?” Jordan asked.
“Yes, I did see the light,” Logan said. He gave a sigh of deep relief. “I don’t have much time. I just wanted to make sure you had a wonderful day. I’ll call you back as soon as I can. I love you both, very, very much.” He closed his eyes and gave another deep sigh as he ended his call.
The link to the WCF lab suddenly activated. Sylvia felt her body sag with relief when she saw a slightly disheveled Goshi on the monitor. “Goshi! Goshi, what happened?”
“Burke made me get in,” Goshi said, still visibly shaken. “He pulled out a gun and forced me to take the last place in the bio-coffin. He didn’t make it, Sylvia. The director is dead.”
Sylvia, who moments before had been thinking the worst of Director Burke, started to weep. He’d sacrificed himself so Gos
hi could live.
She watched through tears as she saw Alex open the remaining bio-coffins, letting out the other survivors. Goshi turned on the HoloTV in the WCF lab so that they could ascertain what had taken place outside. Chetan brought up some other news feeds on the screens in the SCC. Reporters were gathering outside the Mexico City home of NAF president Enrique Salize. Word of the disaster in Washington was spreading quickly. Other monitors showed the devastation as far north as Philadelphia and as far south as Virginia Beach. The devastation reached inland to Charlottesville.
“From what we’re seeing, it’s chaotic all over D.C.,” Goshi reported grimly. “Where’s Valerie?”
“She’s down . . . unconscious,” Sylvia said. “We don’t know what happened to her.”
“Down?” Goshi didn’t say anything more except, “Look, Sylvia, I’ll try to find out who’s in charge and what our orders are. Hold tight.”
“How many do you think were killed?” Chetan asked. Goshi didn’t reply.
On one of the screens, the cameras tracked Adisa Kayin trying to revive some fallen members of the Council of Satraya. Across the park, the projected image of Randolph Fenquist had disappeared. The Coterie handlers huddled around a corpse on the ground next to the HoloPad projector. Logan could see the dead man’s scarred face. It was Randolph’s top deputy. Logan wondered if Randolph had survived the pulse—wherever he was.
“Why did Fenquist’s man die, and why did Mr. Kayin survive?” Sylvia asked, still crying. She went over to Logan, who was holding Valerie’s hand. “It doesn’t make sense. Wasn’t this about Simon and Andrea taking out their enemies?”
“They took out more than their direct enemies,” Logan replied. “The ability to think freely, unconventionally, and creatively is not limited to good people. Even the most corrupt among us can have that ability. It was not about who supported Simon and Andrea and who didn’t. They wanted to take out anyone who could pose a threat to them. Anyone who could touch the finger of God. Anyone . . .” Logan went silent as the cameras panned up and down the streets of Washington. A plane had crashed just outside the National Gallery, and firefighters were attempting to battle the raging fire it had caused. A news report from Ocean City in southern New Jersey showed a sixty-meter yacht that had crashed into the harbor. The bodies of the dead lay everywhere. Husbands clutched their wives, and wives tried to revive their husbands. Others seemed disoriented and lost, showing the effects of their activated collars. Children were crying and clinging to the motionless bodies of their parents.
Journey Into the Flame: Book One of the Rising World Trilogy Page 37
