Virus

by Bill Buchanan

  “Once you hear the warbling tone,” Guardian said, “the voice circuit is complete.”

  A warbling tone was followed by protracted silence, then Jay spoke First. There was the distinct tone of apprehension in his voice. “Linda, this is Jay, Jay Fayhee .. .”

  A pause.

  “Jay, you don’t sound exactly like I remember.”

  “Nervous, I guess ... or maybe it’s my accent. I sound more like Centurion than I used to. You stay in one place long enough, you pick it up after a while. At least, I’m told I don’t talk like a Californian anymore . .. whatever that means.”

  “Well, I’m glad you called.” Jay’s spirit took flight. “You know I’ve always loved listening to the sound of your voice. Even over this link, you sound like James Earl Jones to me.” A short pause. “But, why’d you call? ... You talk, I’ll listen.”

  / could never tell her what this call’s really about, Jay thought at first, but then somehow, somewhere, he found the courage to speak from his heart, without word games, hints, undertones, or innuendo. “We nearly lost you—and I was worried sick about you. Are you alright?”

  “It was tight, but we were lucky. Hell Fire's cooling sys-tern pulled us through. Mac and Gonzo are fine. I’m OK, but Hell Fire . .. Hell Fire's, going to need some work.” “Thank God you’re alright,” Jay said softly, without pretense. After a few moments, he continued. “I understood your comm antennas took the heat.”

  “They took the worst of it. Repairs could take as long as a week.” Scott paused. “If all goes as planned, we’ll head your way once Hell Fire's given a clean bill of health.” “Excellent,” Jay said, feeling so excited his heart might burst. “So please, tell me how you’re doing.”

  “I’ve got my work, and I’ve got good friends. The best... but no one special, not anymore. I mean I’m not married or anything.” Linda paused, debating whether or not to encourage Jay. Following her heart, she took the risk. “You know, I still carry that four-leaf clover you gave me for luck. I’m wearing it now. And you? How are you doing?”

  “Turns out, this job’s not all it’s cracked up to be, but maybe that comes as no big surprise to anybody but me.” She remembered that four-leaf clover, Jay thought. Now open up, bring down the walls. “I’m learning to live without you now, but I miss you ... I miss you every day. You may not believe this, but I have every letter you ever wrote me, every picture we ever took, even our old high school yearbook up here with me on CD. They even let me bring a few of your original handwritten letters onboard.”

  Linda was genuinely surprised by this revelation, and on hearing these words, her heart sang.

  After a brief reflection, Jay continued. “You know a funny thing about this place?”

  “I don’t have any idea what you’re thinking,” Linda said quietly. But right now, I dearly wish I could read your mind and know your heart.

  “Funny thing,” Jay began again. “When it’s quiet, I find myself wondering about you, what you’re doing, and wondering if you ever think of me?”

  “Me too,” Scott responded softly, without hesitation. “I was wondering about you on the Edwards runway before we took off. Not a day passes that I don’t think about you.” Instinctively, Scott knew she was letting her guard down prematurely. Her head understood this, understood it full well, but her heart told her to fly. Somehow, she had to touch this man’s heart.

  Feeling more and more at ease, Jay asked, “Do you remember much about our last year of marriage?”

  “I’ve forgiven and tried to forget the painful parts. A big part of life is like that, about forgiveness I mean. I can’t carry anger, it eats me up inside. Mainly I remember the good parts, our happy times.”

  “Do you remember that orange-colored cake we made? The one that looked like a pumpkin?”

  “With a plastic worm hanging out its nose. A culinary delight I can never forget.”

  “How about the Valentine Day dance? I’ve got our picture up here with me. You couldn’t have been over sixteen then. You were lovely ... and so funny. Most of all, I remember you hated your knees. I thought they were beautiful, and you insisted they were fat. Who ever heard of anyone hating their knees? Craziest thing I ever heard of anyway, but you were serious. Fat knees.”

  “We really had big problems then, didn’t we?”

  “Life seemed complicated then,” Jay said seriously. “And growing up was hard.”

  “Growing up is hard for every generation,” Linda observed with just a hint of sadness. “Even so, it was a good life, and the best way I know of to grow up.”

  “In each other’s arms?”

  “It meant everything to me. Do you remember our first kiss?” Linda asked, knowing his answer in advance.

  “You kidding? Ninth grade Christmas dance, your house, dark basement, and metal braces. It was a nerve shattering experience for me. Who could forget the feeling of flesh pitted against your cold hard steel. I never had a chance really, when you think about it. As I recall, I got the distinct impression that you were well ahead of me in this area of development.”

  “But in all fairness and to your credit, you were a quick study.”

  “I used to love the way you’d stick your lower lip out when you were pouting.”

  “A well-established, effective ploy.” Linda smiled. “Came right out of Seventeen magazine, you know. But I couldn’t sing and still can’t dance.”

  “But you’ve got gumption—an intangible thing, but it sets you apart. You did what you set out to do and not many people can make that claim. You’ve always known what you wanted, believed in yourself, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

  “I don’t know . . .” Linda said, holding back the tears. “The costs, I mean. I set out to marry the man I loved, raise a family, and fly. Now—I fly.” Her tone, one of loss. “I love flying, I’ve got to do it, but it doesn’t hold me close or keep me warm at night. Sometimes it seems the more I know, the less I understand. Everything changes so quickly I forget what’s important. Maybe I’m not as sure as I used to be, or maybe, like everyone else, life’s'just kicked me around a little.”

  “I know what you mean,” Jay said, surprised that the girl he loved, the girl he’d admired all his life, would question herself. “Life’s good, life’s hard, but it’s not fair.” Jay loved talking to Linda and shifted the topic ever so slightly, allowing them to focus on their successes. Remembering happier times, he began, “By the way, I visited our old high school my last trip home. Saw the places we used to go, stood in the very spot we used to meet between classes, even looked inside your old locker.”

  “Has it changed much? What was it like?”

  “The place was practically empty during summer school, so it seemed pretty lonely, pretty deserted. What I remember most is how empty the place seemed without you. Without you there, with only memories, the place seemed lifeless. When I lost you, I lost me, if that makes any sense. I don’t know what I was looking for really, what I was hoping to find. Memories of the heart, I guess. Whatever it was, I didn’t find it. Maybe the school reminded me of what we had, how happy we were, how things might have been.” After a few moments of careful consideration, Jay concluded, “Growing up was hard. Sometimes, looking back, I really don’t see how we got through it all and survived.”

  “When you cut to the chase,” Linda responded in a soft, compassionate tone, “I don’t think the heart of the problem is all that complicated to understand really. It’s about sex and morality ... doing the right thing, I mean. The problem may be clearly stated, but the solution’s the hard part. No one’s found a solution to make growing up any easier. At eighteen, you needed sex, and you needed it often. It was like a chemical imbalance, inhibiting clear thought, and you didn’t have an outlet. That didn’t make you fundamentally bad or much different than any other eighteen-year-old male, but it made growing up difficult.”

  “You understand me better than I understand myself. You always have.” Jay sighed, his thoughts s
cattered, shifting now to Linda’s father. He’d always admired the man, Linda’s father extraordinaire and SR-7I sled driver. He’d always been kind to Jay, and it meant all the more because at times Jay had known he didn’t deserve it. “You know, I miss your father. I still feel badly about not attending his funeral. You needed me, but I was stuck up here, stuck here on my first tour with no way back.”

  “I miss him more than I’d ever imagined and I feel cheated now that he’s gone. There were so many things I’d wanted to tell him, so many things I’d wanted us to do.”

  “He died knowing the most important things, Linda, your heart and your spirit.” Jay smiled, recalling some advice Linda’s father had given him, then continued. “You know the only instructions he ever gave me before we were married?”

  “No, you never told me Dad’s advice,” Linda replied, drawing a blank on Jay’s question, “but you two were a lot alike. You know he liked you from the start.”

  “I’m ashamed to say it now, but the only request he ever made of me was that I never, ever hurt you.”

  Linda’s eyes teared as she imagined her father talking to Jay on behalf of her happiness. “I'm afraid we both made some bad calls, Jay. Somewhere along the way, we both lost sight of what was really important in life. Dad would be disappointed in us now. but he’d never give up on us.” Following a long silence, Linda asked, “Are you happy? Is this what you want?” I dearly wish I could read your mind.

  “No, Linda. Not really.”

  “Want to talk about it?” Dear God, I'd love to talk to him again.

  “Linda, the thing I want most in my life. . . you might think this is ridiculous, but the thing I want more than anything else in the world is to talk to you.”

  Linda’s heart took flight.

  “Listen, Linda, I made some terrible mistakes when we were together. I behaved badly. God knows I did and only God knows how sorry I am. I’ve spent the last five years regretting it and if there was something I could do, something I could say that would make it right again, I would. It’s almost as if we had to get this divorce for me to see clearly what I’d lost. I dream of holding you again, but I’m afraid this dream will never come true. Not now . . .”

  “Sometimes dreams really do come true, Jay. My dreams are much like yours. We both made some big mistakes and our divorce devastated me. But you’re a part of me, a part of me that won’t let go. Let’s work through the forgiveness part first, put the pain behind us, then get on with the healing. I think we can make it work. I need you more than you know.”

  I feel like a kid again in love for the first time, Jay thought, his heart pounding. I’ll make you happier than you ever imagined in your wildest dreams!

  Linda smiled at her next question. “You’re going to call me again?”

  “Nothing in heaven or on earth could keep me from calling you. If you’ll let me, I want to show you I’ve changed. My dream is to be in your life again forever—and faithfully.”

  “Dreams really do come true, Jay. They must. Why do we live if not to dream?” Teary-eyed, Linda paused only a moment, then whispered, “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  Declaring a Dividend, 12/08/2014, 2040 Zulu, 11:40 p.m..

  Local

  Iraqi Intelligence Service Headquarters, Underground Bunker,

  Baghdad, Iraq

  The sergeant on duty in the crypto room brought in extra help tonight. Mother expected he may get a message, and the sergeant didn’t want any computer screwups fouling up the works. When the incoming message alarm bell rang, everyone anxiously watched the crypto board thinking this could be the one. It was. For the second night in a row, the crypto board flashed:

  Incoming Message—Priority:

  URGENT—FOR MOTHER'S EYES ONLY-

  With hard copy in hand, the sergeant picked up the phone and called Mother. He answered before the first ring completed.

  “Sergeant—message?” Mother’s voice was unrevealing of emotion.

  “Message reads as follows: To: mother, From: addams, Subject: Lawrence gets a horse.”

  “That is good,” Mother said quietly. “Send my reply to Livermore. It must get through.”

  “Understand.”

  “Call me when he reads it.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, now it’s my turn. Allahu Akbar/”

  Hiding the Trojan Horse, 12/08/2014, 2147 Zulu, 1:47 P.M.

  Local

  Gate 2 Security Guard Smack,

  Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory,

  Livermore, California

  Lucky sat in front of his workstation, studying the screen. Mother was right, he thought. Something most extraordinary had happened. Christmas vacations canceled—scientists and engineers called back from vacation (which explained why they were in such a foul mood today). Three Livermore computers had been running wide open all morning. SDIO programmers for the DEWSAT, Centurion, and his subordinates were involved in a marathon twenty-four-hour program build.

  Roughly twenty-four hours after Lucky received his first message from Mother, his terminal message bell rang again.

  You have electronic mail-

  He read his e-mail summary—another message from Mother. Lucky decrypted the message, guessed what it would say—and was right—again.

  FROM: mother TO: mal SUBJECT: Lawrence gets a horse-

  Come home for Christmas-

  End Of Message

  Lucky deleted Mother’s message and checked to make sure that no one was looking over his shoulder. He turned the brightness down low on his terminal, then cleared his screen. Once sure the room was empty, he didn’t take time to think. He reacted mechanically, like a robot. His practice paid off.

  Lucky struck methodically. First, he transferred PAM to the computer used by the Centurion project. Next, he logged on the Centurion project computer as a super-user and performed his programming magic. Super-user status made Lucky all-powerful on the Centurion project computer, but he had to move fast or risk detection. He moved directly to the program area on the computer where the new builds were taking place, then began looking for a pattern. The pattern was obvious.

  Lucky smiled. The rest would be easy!

  Centurion’s programmers were having a field day—taking advantage of their opportunity to bypass quality control. They threw in hundreds of bug fixes for old problems as well as the fix for their DEWSAT problem. Lucky thought it should be easy to hide PAM.

  He was right.

  Lucky quickly decrypted PAM and appended her to another program. PAM entered as a Trojan horse. She looked like any other program change—something she was not.

  With his bad seed planted, Lucky signed off, then watched the progress of Centurion’s program build.

  No problem. Everything worked.

  Perfect! he thought. Just like in the movies!

  With his bad seed planted, Lucky removed PAM from his computer workstation, then walked to security headquarters for a talk with his boss.

  As he strolled across the Livermore grounds, Lucky’s heart soared and his grin stretched ear to ear. Above all else, Merchant A. Lucky was a mercenary. He could retire on the money he’d make.

  He walked into his boss’s office. “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

  “I’ve had about all the bad news I need today, Lucky, how ’bout the good news first.”

  “I’m going home for Christmas and I’m so excited I’m about to bust!”

  “That’s great. Where’s home?”

  “The Florida panhandle and I can’t wait!”

  “How about the bad news?”

  “Mother’s not doing so well, so I’ve taken a job near her to help out.”

  “Sorry to hear it... so what’s your plan?”

  “New job starts January first—my last day here’ll be next Monday, one week from today.”

  “I wish you the best of luck. If you need any references along the way, let me know. You’re a mighty talented
character.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Lucky smiled, shook his boss’s hand, and walked back to his office in Guard Shack 2.

  Lucky didn’t understand the consequences of what he’d done—he didn’t need to. Mother’s bonus and relocation plans were excellent.

  PART

  4

  THE PROBLEM

  WITHOUT

  SOLUTION

  DAY 3-

  DECEMBER 9, 2014

  12

  Nothing to Report, 12/09/2014, 1505 Zulu, 10:05 A.M.

  Local Arecibo Earth Station,

  Arecibo, Puerto Rico

  Arecibo, the Allies’ largest satellite earth station and radio telescope, silently transmitted Livermore’s new programs to Centurion through a thirty-five-meter dish antenna pointing directly toward Freedom.

  From the air, Arecibo’s largest antenna looked like an enormous bowl spanning the valley between surrounding mountain peaks. Lining the bowl’s perimeter, blasted, turn-buckled, and bolted into the ledge stood forty plus satellite dishes, fuel tanks, plus a dozen single-story buildings.

  Arecibo’s only reason to exist was communications, but like most earth stations, once operational the communication equipment required very few technical support people. Just plug it in and let it run.

  Inside the security building, a short, stocky security sergeant watched his status board, a wall lined with TV screens and red lights.

  All was quiet.

  Just once I’d like something to report, he thought.

  The sergeant had been stationed at Arecibo nearly two years and knew nothing ever happened here ... most boring place in the world. This wasn’t what he’d signed up for, but this was the Army. Arecibo shoulda been couch potato heaven—more than six hundred television channels to choose from. But now he was sick of TV, he hated TV.

  The most excitement in the sergeant’s day were the radio checks. Once in a while, that sehorita would answer. The sound ... the tone of that woman’s voice set the blood in his veins on fire.