Landfall

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Landfall Page 13

by John McWilliams


  “Jeez, Oren.” Jan winces. “What’d you do, empty a bottle of mustard on this?”

  “Oh, that must be mine.” Oren hands Jan his half-eaten sandwich and takes his.

  “I think your taste buds must be going.” Jan examines the amount of mustard under the bread of this second sandwich before venturing a bite. “You call my sister yet? She’s been asking about you.”

  “Well, I’ve been kind of busy,” Oren says, chewing his food.

  “She’s been asking for about two months now. If you’re not interested, just let Lisa know.”

  “I’m interested.”

  “He just doesn’t know how to break the news to Kaiser,” Nate jokes.

  “Actually, at this point, I’m more concerned about what prison my mail will need to be forwarded to. And I won’t be alone.” Oren wipes his mouth and looks at Jan. “You do understand this is a one-man mission, right? We only have fuel for one—and it’s got to be you, Nate.”

  “No, I’ll be the one going,” Jan says. “Given all that you’ve been able to put together and, given the serendipitous timing of the launch window, I need to go.”

  “Jan,” Oren says, glancing at Nate, “no offense, but this is more of a test pilot’s mission. It’s hands off for the most part, but there’re some pretty serious g-forces to endure and, God forbid we have to abort.”

  “There’ll be no aborting,” Jan says. “This is just like the F-16 incident, only with a greater Monty Hall Effect. The FBI covered up our involvement in that situation, but could they really cover up a space mission disaster? One in which I get killed?”

  “You don’t think you can be killed?” Oren asks.

  “I’m just saying it’s unlikely,” Jan says. “Look, this is an incredibly risky mission no matter who goes. So, doesn’t it seem a little crazy not to take advantage of the kind of statistical boost we’d get by simply having me on board? By not sending me up, we’re choosing not to switch doors.” Jan lays his hands flat on the table.

  Oren looks at Nate.

  “I’m against it,” Nate says, “but it is nothing short of a miracle that we survived that midair collision. Also, assuming either of us were to get on board, Jan is more qualified at dealing with the experiment and, if it comes to it, the crew.”

  Oren stares at the blackboard for a long moment, then tosses his water bottle into a recycle bin by the door. “Okay, I guess we’re doing this,” he says. “Jan, I’ll need you suited up and at the tower at T minus 90.”

  “You’ll be closing the hatch?” Nate asks.

  “This is a secret government mission. I’ll be the only one in the tower. Once I get Jan situated, I’ll join you in the Control Center.

  “Of course, the moment Jan clears the tower, the Pentagon will be alerted to the launch. But it’ll take time for them to react, and hopefully by the time they start pounding on our doors, we’ll have Jan in his initial orbit. Also, I’m hoping that by then, you and I, Nate, will be able to relocate to the new Orbit One building. It’s still unoccupied, but I’ve been able to set up a pretty decent remote control center for us there. Jan, the switchover shouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but during that time, you’ll be on your own.”

  Jan nods.

  “Docking shouldn’t be a problem,” Oren continues, “as long as Dimitry is there to activate the JLA laser docking system. And…” Oren looks off a moment. “That’s as far as I’ve gotten. So, what’s the plan once you get on board?”

  “Originally, we were planning on blowing up the experiment in space,” Jan says, “meaning the end of any possibility of accomplishing the Message’s task, since crucial information contained within the Message, and now backed up on hard drives, would be destroyed. But with Plan A back on the table, maybe, just maybe, that crucial information can be retrieved. Of course, keeping the experiment out of anyone else’s hands is still our highest priority. So I suppose I should still take the C4 with me. Just in case.”

  Oren stares at him.

  Jan looks at Nate. Oops.

  “We have C4 in one of the duffel bags,” Nate tells Oren. “I guess we should have given you a heads-up.”

  “You mean before you loaded my plane with explosives? And with Kaiser on board!”

  • • •

  Minutes later, in JLA’s Spacecraft Acoustic Laboratory in the basement of the same building, Oren spreads the bricks of C4 and JD’s remote detonation devices out on a workbench. He sets the blasting caps aside and picks up a circuit board. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Look at these solder joints. And what is this, electrical tape? And what the hell is this?” He sweeps the circuit boards into a garbage bin. “I’ll make you some real remote detonators.”

  “Now, what about this stuff?” Oren picks up one of the bricks. “Is it homemade? Is it stable? Will it blow up with the vibrations at launch? Is it sensitive to heat? Pressure?” He looks at Jan and Nate. “Nothing?”

  They shrug.

  “That’s why we have you,” Nate says.

  Oren takes a sample of the C4 over to the vibration and shock-testing chamber at the far end of the lab. He places the sample into a fixture and closes the door. Then he sets the program that he wants to run, and after a moment, the pneumatic actuators begin to hiss and a distant compressor roars.

  “We’ll run this stuff through the most extreme conditions. No sense pussyfooting around,” Oren tells them over the racket. “So, besides who’ll get top bunk when we all end up in jail, what else do we need to discuss?”

  “Just how to get Jan back without him getting caught.” Nate turns to Jan. “Maybe you could land in China.”

  “That’d be a nice surprise for Lisa and Stephen,” Oren quips.

  “Yes, and a nice way to start World War Three,” Jan says. “No, what we need is some kind of diversion.”

  “Like what?” Nate asks.

  “I have no idea—”

  At that moment, an explosion rocks the test chamber. Oren shuts the machine off and opens the door as smoke filters out. He reads the display panel. “We’re good. If stresses reach this level in flight, an explosion would be a blessing.”

  Jan looks at Nate.

  Nate shrugs. “What are the odds?”

  Chapter 18

  The following evening out on Pad 3, Jan and Nate look up at the Sage IV rocket with its huge JL Aerospace logo lit up against the night sky.

  “T minus 95 minutes,” Nate says. “It’s still not too late.”

  “Not too late for what?” Jan asks.

  “I’m still willing to go. I’d be glad to go.”

  “Thanks, but I’m feeling pretty good about this.”

  “Okay—one last chance to talk you out of it,” Nate says. “If I go up and blow up the crystal, I can return and deal with the FBI with minimal consequences. You, in the meantime, would be free to remain here, under the radar.”

  “But my plan has the Monty Hall Effect on its side,” Jan argues. “Besides, you and Oren will figure something out. Or something’ll happen up there to change the situation in our favor. I’m sure of it.”

  “You mean you’re betting on it.”

  The Sage IV puffs like a seething dragon as Jan watches a jet streak across the sky.

  “Don’t worry,” Nate says. “He won’t be able to catch you. And he certainly can’t shoot you down.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you can’t die, right?”

  Jan smiles. “Not spectacularly.” He looks up at the tower. Shadowy beams of light are piercing through its crisscross framework. He feels an unexpected twinge of weakness in his knees. Launches are a scary business. Launching alone is just that much scarier.

  “Well, I guess Oren’s waiting.” He embraces Nate and quickly turns toward the tower.

  Then he stops.

  “Just in case I’m wrong about this. If you could explain to Lisa—”

  “Of course, of course.”

  “And look in on Stephen from time to time—”


  “Jesus, Jan. Of course I will. Hey, listen to me. Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes, yes. I have to do this.”

  “All right then.” He holds Jan by the shoulders at arm’s length. “How do we fight?”

  “With our eyes open.”

  “And why do we fight in this ridiculous manner?”

  “Because with our eyes open we can’t lose.”

  “You’re goddamned right.”

  “Thanks. I’ve got this. I’m good.”

  “And what else…?” Nate calls after him.

  “I can’t die.”

  Chapter 19

  “Dr. Cipriani will be with you shortly,” a heavyset woman in a green woolen sweater told Lauren, Ellis, and George as they entered the spacious, mahogany-walled office of the Director of Material Research at Iceland University in Reykjavík, Iceland.

  After getting nowhere with Stephen Lee (a mere five hours ago) Lauren had attempted to set up a meeting with Dr. Jane Carrols. When Dr. Carrols was unavailable, Lauren had agreed to meet with the Iceland Group’s “on call” representative, Dr. Cipriani.

  Lauren was, of course, familiar with Dr. Cipriani’s work in artificial intelligence. Those breakthroughs tended to make headlines and magazine covers. But on the flight, she had read that one would be hard-pressed to find an area of science that didn’t rely on Dr. Cipriani’s work in complex computational analysis—including the development of rocket propulsion systems.

  George sat down at the conference table—which appeared to be made from railroad ties—while Lauren and Ellis looked at the awards and photographs on the shelves. Some of the photos had been taken inside the labs, but most were of ski trips and other outings.

  After a few minutes, Lauren joined Ellis at the window. The sun was setting over a huge parking lot and its handful of snow-covered cars.

  “Pretty, isn’t it?” Lauren said.

  “We should have brought our skis,” Ellis replied.

  “Maybe next time.”

  The green-sweatered woman returned and set a tray on the table. “In case you’d care for some coffee or tea.” She again assured them that Dr. Cipriani would be right along.

  Lauren and Ellis joined George at the table.

  “I think I agree with Ellis about Stephen Lee.” George poured coffee into three cups, pushing one toward Ellis and one toward Lauren.

  “You mean that he’s an ass?” Ellis said.

  “I mean that he was probably the one who sent those men to detain us at the airport.”

  “So then, why not try again when we landed in North Carolina?” Lauren asked.

  “Because he’s arrogant,” George said. “And he decided to handle us himself.”

  “Handle us?”

  “Sure, by flirting with you and being belligerent with Ellis. He was messing with you—with us.”

  “I think I was pretty aware of that,” Lauren said. “But his messing with us could also be because he hates the FBI. He does blame us for his father’s death.”

  “Or maybe he’s just an ass,” Ellis growled.

  “He’s not an ass,” Lauren said. “Jeez, Ellis.”

  “Ellis just doesn’t like another rooster in the henhouse.” George chuckled. “You know, because he’s jealous of—” He looked at them. “Oh, never mind. You two need counseling or something. The point is, Stephen Lee has us completely off track.”

  “Not completely. We’re here in Iceland, aren’t we?” Lauren said.

  “Sure, but—” George set his coffee down and spoke in a hushed tone. “Let’s assume for a second that Iceland is the Sender. What do we hope to accomplish here? It seems to me, all the action’s going to be on the other side. The Receiver side.”

  “Unless we can intervene before the Message gets sent,” Lauren said.

  “Besides, what else are we going to do?” Ellis added. “Beat the hell out of Stephen Lee until he tells us the truth?”

  At that moment, a woman with long black hair entered the room. She was wearing a black and gray dress suit that Lauren might have expected to see on the streets of Manhattan, not in the Material Research Department at Iceland University.

  Lauren self-consciously touched her ponytail.

  “Special Agents Madison, Cole, and Mr. O’Kelly. Please—” The woman indicated that they should remain seated. “It’s very nice to meet you all. I suppose we’re forgoing the handshakes these days, but I’m Dr. Cipriani.” She smiled, nodded. “Oh, I see. You were expecting my brother.” She pointed at the door. “I’m pretty sure they put ‘Dr. T. Cipriani’ on that nameplate just as a tease. I’m Tara Cipriani. But just call me Tara. So, how can I help you?” Tara poured herself a cup of coffee and took the chair at the head of the table.

  “Tara—and feel free to call me Lauren—we’re investigating the Helios discovery in Alberta—”

  “Of course, it’s all over the web.”

  “Well, let me just start by asking how you and your brother are associated with the Iceland Group. This is actually Dr. Carrols’s office, isn’t it?

  “It is. Tyler and I are on the Iceland Group’s technology board, and we often borrow Jane’s office during certain operational phases of her work.”

  “Can you tell us where Dr. Carrols is?” Lauren asked.

  “She’s in the field and won’t be reachable for another thirty-six to forty-eight hours. But I should be able to answer any of your questions. Of course, if you’d prefer to wait, I could make arrangements for you at a very nice hotel off campus.”

  “Thanks, but I’m afraid we don’t have the luxury of time.” Lauren thought a moment. “What did you mean by ‘you often borrow her office during certain operational phases of her work’?”

  “I’m the gatekeeper.”

  “The gatekeeper?”

  “Sure. I’m here in case a war breaks out.” Tara smiled. “Seriously, Dr. Carrols is in the field for the sole purpose of isolating herself from the outside world. If an emergency arises, however, my job is to decide whether to contact her and, if I do, how to deliver the information. Are you familiar with her work in advanced wave interference?”

  “Time messaging?” Lauren asked.

  “Exactly.”

  “So, your job is to maintain the probability curve?” Ellis said.

  “That’s right.” Tara’s eyes lingered on Ellis. “I keep Dr. Carrols’s teams in the dark unless something crazy happens. And my brother—he’s in the field with Dr. Carrols—he gets to play God this time around.”

  “Play God?” Lauren asked.

  “Someone has to make the final decision as to whether or not to send the message. It’s somewhat more harrowing than you might imagine.”

  “Wait a minute, you’re actually doing this?” George spoke up. “You’re actually admitting that you’re sending messages back in time?”

  “I am. We are.”

  “How come we don’t see this all over the news?” Ellis asked.

  “Forty years ago,” Tara told them, “using quantum entanglement, scientists were able to take the first step toward developing teleportation by duplicating a particle hundreds of miles away. That was newsworthy for about a week.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “And since then, they’ve been able to teleport an ever-growing complexity of molecules. But who cares? It’s interesting, but until they can teleport a cat or a monkey—or at least a shoe—nobody really cares.”

  Lauren looked at her HoloWatch.

  “Why do I get the feeling that things are about to become newsworthy around here?” Ellis rested his arms on the table. Lauren noticed how Tara’s eyes were drawn to them.

  “I’m not in the field,” Tara said, “so I really don’t know what’s going to happen. But whatever will happen has happened. And I’m afraid you—or anyone for that matter—can’t stop it.”

  “With you as the guard?” Ellis raised an eyebrow.

  “That’s right, Special Agent Cole. Big, powerful me.”

  “Ellis. Call me Ellis
.”

  Okay, this is kind of annoying, Lauren thought. She realized her hand was on her gun. Just to be safe, she placed both her hands on the table.

  “Ellis, it’s not me. I’m just the gatekeeper. It’s the Wall you can’t get through. And now, I couldn’t even get a message through if I wanted. We closed the gate yesterday. So, even if you had the U.S. Air Force at your disposal—”

  “We do,” Ellis said boastfully.

  “Well, then, it’s a good thing we built such an impenetrable wall.” Tara held Ellis’s gaze.

  “So, Tara—” Lauren cleared her throat. “Do you know Dr. Stephen Lee?”

  “Of course. Dr. Jan Lee’s son. I’ve never actually met the man. But I know who he is.”

  “And do you—or any of your family members—own stock in Space America Corp., by any chance?” Lauren pretended to reference information on her tablet.

  “I wouldn’t doubt it.” Tara laughed. “My family tends to dabble in pretty much everything.”

  “Do Dr. Carrols or your brother have an interest in rocket propulsion systems?”

  “My brother has worked in the area of antimatter power sources, but I’m not really sure of the specifics. Why?”

  “Just trying to get the full picture.” Lauren looked up at the mahogany beams that ran along the ceiling. A new form of rocket propulsion? How harmful could that be? Of course, how harmful did the equivalence of matter and energy seem when it was first postulated?

  All of this, of course, was a national security concern—including the time-messaging technology itself. But George was right. It was too late to do anything from the Sender’s side. Their top priority now had to be in dealing with the outcome.

  She looked at her HoloWatch: twenty-two hours remaining. Time to do some fishing.

  “Tara,” Lauren said, “inside Helios we discovered the main components of Dr. Lee’s AWX experiment. But when we took them to Los Alamos for analysis, someone stole them.” Lauren watched for a reaction. Tara’s big brown eyes gave nothing away. “Do you have any idea who would be so interested in Dr. Lee’s work that they would go to this kind of extreme?”

  “Any material scientist would love to get their hands on those components,” Tara said. “I’m assuming they included one of his tuned crystals? An analysis of what Dr. Lee was able to accomplish would make a nice paper or two.” Tara turned to George. “Mr. O’Kelly, wouldn’t your colleagues be interested in these components as well? To them, I would imagine these pieces of history would be priceless.”

 

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