The Siren Project

by Renneberg, Stephen

  “You’re not planning on doing something stupid are you, Mitchell?”

  “I don’t plan on stupid, but it sure as hell follows me around,” Mitch said, then ended the call.

  He pocketed the cell phone, then turned the satellite truck onto a dirt road and drove north for more than twenty miles. The dirt road turned into a track, which petered out shortly after the Eagletail Mountains had risen above the horizon ahead of them. The dead end track carried no traffic, ensuring there was no chance the satellite truck would be discovered by accident. Mitch left the motor running to power the satellite uplink, and went back to check on Mouse.

  “How you doing in there?” he asked as he pulled the rear door open, and a blast of cold air washed over him.

  Mouse sat in air conditioned comfort at the control console, his computer patched into the uplink system and the small TV screens facing him all hissing static. “I’ll be ready to align the dish in about fifteen minutes.”

  “We’ll be back soon.”

  Mitch hurried over to the four wheel drive where Gunter now waited, ready for the short drive east to the ranch they'd arranged to hire horses from. The sun was now fully above the horizon, and soon the desert heat would make its presence felt, but all Mitch could think of was the implant in Christa’s head. He didn’t know how long before they tried to condition her, but he knew as soon as they did, she'd be dead.

  Mitch watched the northern horizon as they drove east across open country, wondering where Christa was, battling the sense of dread rising within. “Step on it.”

  * * * *

  They hired three horses from the ranch and a trailer to transport the mounts back to the satellite truck. When they returned, they found Mouse entering last minute corrections on the control console. The four television screens in front of him provided a continuous readout from the satellite, indicating he was receiving a signal feed.

  Mouse grinned as they climbed in behind him. “This thing is amazing! You should hear some of the stuff that satellite is intercepting. How’s your French? You want to hear the French Consulate in Los Angeles talking to their Embassy in Washington? Or how about the Chinese Ambassador talking to his bosses in Beijing?” Mouse adjusted the controls to demonstrate how effortlessly he could surf the world’s communications.

  “. . . she had a baby boy,” A woman said in a gossipy tone. “She swears it’s his, but you know how she is. I told her . . .”

  “. . . the Lakers are going to get creamed,” A male basso voice declared. “My bookie’s offering seven to . . .”

  “. . . I told you,” A frustrated male voice declared. “I’ll have the money Thursday, you’ll have the alimony by the . . .”

  “. . . but Jonnie,” A young woman pleaded, “You’ve been there three weeks. You said you’d be back home . . .”

  Mitch cut him off. “I get the picture. Does this mean you have control of the NSA satellite?”

  “I have access, but haven't sent any commands to the satellite yet,” Mouse replied as he turned down the volume on the world’s private conversations. “I’m just listening in, but I can take it any time, then I'll be able to bounce down onto the Sincom One receiver.”

  “How long before the NSA know what you’re doing?”

  “There’s got to be a way of hiding my signal in background traffic, but I haven’t figured out how to do that. If we had a couple of weeks, I could go in and out without leaving fingerprints–”

  “Not an option.”

  “So I have to hit it with a hammer, take it out of their system. Which means as soon as I grab it, everything goes dead quiet on the NSA side, except for station keeping. I can’t risk interrupting that, or the satellite would drift out of position. I’ve got a program ready to change the access code every sixty seconds. That'll stop them regaining control, but they'll know it's been hijacked within a couple of minutes. If they have a back door, they'll sneak back in and lock me out, but my code changer will let me regain control a minute later. Then I’ll know where the back door is, and lock them out.”

  “Can you keep control of it long enough to get us inside the base?”

  Mouse looked uncertain. “Maybe. Keeping the satellite is only half the game. I’ve still got to get into Sincom One’s system. I won't know how hard that is, until I kick open the door. I’m hoping the hand shaking codes we took from that satellite truck in New York still work, and I can walk straight in, otherwise things could get real complicated.”

  Mitch placed a two way radio on the console for Mouse. “If everything goes our way, how much time do you need?”

  “All I can get.”

  “Okay, get started. It’s going to take us most of the day to get near the base. The first thing to do is disable their outer surveillance system, whatever they have in the desert, but without them knowing you’ve blinded them.”

  “That’s the trick isn’t it.”

  “I don’t know how long the radio will last out there, but we’ll stay in touch as long as we can. Once we get in close, those directed energy defenses will fry the radio, then you’ll know we’ve reached the outer defenses. Plan on us penetrating the perimeter fences a hour after sundown, from the south east.”

  “Got it, south east. Report in every fifteen minutes, on the quarter hour. If you miss one, I’ll know you’re there.”

  They synchronized watches. “Now show me what you can do.”

  “Someone in NSA headquarters is about to have a very bad day.” Mouse grinned mischievously as he launched his capture program. He indicated the two right most television screens, both of which displayed the same satellite status data. “That screen is our feed, the far right is the NSA feed.” As he spoke, the far right screen blinked to white noise. “Alarm bells just started ringing all over Fort Meade.”

  Mouse transmitted orders to the satellite and held his breath as the screen flickered and a logon display appeared with the title:

  STRATEGIC INSURGENCY COMMAND

  STATION ONE

  AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY

  He typed in the access code, then a moment later the screen changed with a list of systems, each one requiring another authorization code. “Uh-oh.”

  “That’s not what I want to hear.”

  “It’s heavily compartmentalized. I'll have to crack security on each system individually, which means I’ll have to be selective.” Mouse glanced up, a determined look on his face. “If there’s a way in, I’ll find it.”

  Mitch looked uncertainly at the security lock out Mouse had to crack. “Promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you’re finished, you’ll give the satellite back to the NSA.”

  “Ahh, that’s such a waste. They’ve got plenty of satellites, and I can think of much more interesting things to do with it than they can.” Mouse sighed reluctantly. “But . . . if you insist.”

  “I do,” Mitch said as he clambered out of the satellite truck.

  Gunter waited on horseback, holding the reins for both Mitch’s mount and the pack horse that would carry Gunter’s equipment going in and Christa coming out. Mitch pulled himself up into the saddle, then pressed the transmit button on the two way radio. “Mouse, you reading me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  Mitch slid the radio into a saddle bag, checked his compass, sighting west of the Eagletail Mountain ridge. He estimated the distance to the peak, and knew it would take the rest of the day to get there on horseback. The first heat shimmers rippled off the burning desert ahead, forewarning of the blistering heat to come.

  “We have a long way to go,” Gunter said, “And she doesn't have much time.”

  “We're no good to her dead,” Mitch said, knowing they could get there faster if they drove to the fence, but the road would be watched. Going in on horseback was something they wouldn't expect. “Doesn’t mean we can’t ride these damn horses hard!” He said, spurring his horse forward, toward the rocky peaks in the distance.

  They
had a long, hot ride through the desert ahead of them, but it was what they'd discover that night that filled Mitch with dread.

  Chapter 1 6

  Mitch barely noticed the heat and dust rise around them as the sun climbed into the sky to its full power. Gunter had to force him to periodically walk the horses, otherwise he would have ridden his mount into the ground. Every fifteen minutes, they checked in with Mouse, who was making no progress against the complex Sincom security shield. They climbed into the desolate foothills of the Eagletail Mountains, once seeing a black Apache helicopter in the distance flying nape of the earth, but it had been heading away to the west and never saw them. He guessed it was conducting a reconnaissance of the approaches to the outer perimeter, confirming his decision to avoid the road. A couple of hours later, Gunter saw a rising dust trail far off toward the horizon, a vehicle speeding south over a desert track. Mitch wondered if it was Ackerman returning from the base after having delivered Christa into their hands.

  At two fifteen, Mitch made his regular contact with Mouse. “Any luck?”

  Mouse’s voice was upbeat for the first time since they'd set out. “I’ve identified the core encryption algorithms, but it's slow going. It's fifty-fifty whether I'll be online by the time you reach the fence.”

  Half an hour later, they stumbled across a narrow track, barely wide enough for a horse to walk. “Looks like an old Indian trail,” Mitch guessed.

  “It has not been used for a long time,” Gunter said, turning his horse onto it.

  It led north, under a cliff face that rose beside them. They followed it in single file, the rough hewn path providing a more even footing for the horses than the open terrain, allowing them to increase the pace. Mitch tried to recall the location of the rock formations overlooking the base he'd seen from the glider, to gauge the distance, but everything looked different from ground level, except for the high peak in the distance. At three thirty, when Mitch checked in with Mouse, the radio signal was almost drowned out by static.

  Gunter dismounted, pulled the old Geiger counter from the third horse’s pack and tested for radiation. It clicked slowly. “Just background radiation,” he said as he climbed back into the saddle, keeping the Geiger counter with him.

  The trail led into a narrow gully, then back into the shade of the overhanging cliff which gave them some relief from the oppressive heat. As they climbed toward a low ridge, the only sounds they heard were the horse’s hooves clattering on rock and the slow click of the Geiger counter. Just before they reached the crest of the hill, the Geiger counter sparked from a short circuit and fell silent.

  They stopped while Gunter tested the controls, then shook his head. “It is dead,” he declared, throwing it aside.

  Mitch tried the radio, but it too was silent. He dismounted, took his binoculars from his saddlebag and climbed the rocky slope of the ridge to their right, followed by Gunter. On hands and knees, they crawled the final few feet to the crest, then Mitch used the binoculars to study the desert beyond. Cactus, bleached rocky soil and scattered boulders lay beyond the ridge, and a mile further on was the silver line of a chain link fence crowned by several strands of barbed wire. Widely spaced along the fence were square signs, too small to read from that distance.

  Mitch passed the binoculars to Gunter. “Looks like the same fence we ran into on the road two days ago.”

  Gunter studied the terrain between the fence and their position on the ridge. “There must be something in our line of sight.”

  Mitch waited several minutes, curbing his impatience, but eventually Gunter lowered the binoculars, defeated. “Whatever it is, they have it well hidden.”

  They edged back away from the ridge top, careful not to reveal themselves to any would be observer, then returned to the horses and continued along the Indian trail under the cliff. The sun was beginning to fall in the western sky, and the shade of the overhang was lost, but the sun’s severity had begun to decline. Mitch found himself wishing for sunset and a cool evening breeze as they rounded an outcrop to find themselves standing before the chain link fence. It ended right against the cliff face, reaching back over the hills to their left and out of sight.

  They halted while they studied every rock and shadow from a distance.

  “I see no security camera,” Gunter reported.

  “Doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

  They nudged their horses forward to the fence and dismounted. Once again Mitch took the binoculars and cautiously climbed a nearby hill to gain a view of the open desert beyond. He crawled to the crest on his stomach, then studied both sides of the fence below. A few hundred yards away, a small cluster of boulders with a rock overhang that cast a deep shadow caught his eye. It could have been a naturally forming pillbox, but he detected a slow rhythmic movement in the shadows of the boulders and something else he couldn’t quite figure out.

  When Gunter crawled up beside him, Mitch handed him the binoculars and indicated the spot. “What do you make of that?”

  Gunter studied the shadow amidst the cluster of boulders, taking his time before responding. “I see movement . . . and that shadow is not real. It is non-reflective, black glass. Too black for a shadow this time of day.”

  “That’s it!” Mitch whispered, realizing what had confused him. “It’s too dark”

  “The movement is sweeping the desert. It may be the cause of our electrical failure.”

  “I don’t remember seeing boulders like that where our car broke down, but I bet if we went back there now, knowing what to look for, we’d find them.”

  “We should take it with us on the way out, as evidence, and to reverse engineer it.”

  “Not this trip, G. When we get out, we get out fast. Besides, I can’t see them leaving an energy weapon out here in the desert where anyone can steal it. We’d need explosives and cutting tools to get at it. That black glass will be bullet proof. Hell, the whole thing could be rigged to blow up in our faces.”

  They returned to the horses in the gully, where Gunter studied the chain link fence, link by link, while Mitch fetched the bolt cutters. “It does not appear to be booby trapped, or electrified. We can cut it.”

  “We’re still at the deception level of their defenses,” Mitch said. “Having a smart fence out here would give the game away.”

  “Any sensors would be damaged by the energy weapon, unless insulated, but that would make them bulky, and difficult to conceal.”

  Satisfied it was safe, Mitch cut an opening large enough for the horses, then pulled the wire back so Gunter could walk the animals through. Mitch stepped through, then tied severed links together with small pieces of wire. If the helicopter flew overhead, it may not notice the fence had been cut, especially once night fell.

  “How far to the base?” Gunter asked as he remounted his horse.

  “Another five miles.” Mitch checked the position of the sun, calculating how long before sundown and adding an hour. “We can still make it in time, if we hurry.”

  Gullies and hills shielded them from the open desert for an hour, as they made their way along the Indian trail at the foot of the cliff. It eventually petered out amongst the rocks, forcing them to find their own way through rough country, twice being forced to walk the horses down steep descents, always choosing the most concealed way, even when it was more treacherous than an easier, more visible route. Overhead, the sky began to turn orange as the sun neared the horizon and the temperature at last cooled. Leaving the horses tethered behind a rock formation, they moved forward to the last cover before a stretch of open desert that led to the double perimeter fences, corner towers, and low modern buildings of Sincom One. The base was well hidden, nestled between high rock walls and desolate ridges that concealed it on all sides.

  “We’ll wait for dark,” Mitch said as he gave Gunter the binoculars, after surveying the approaches to the base.

  “If Mouse has not disabled the south east tower, we will be seen,” he said, peering through the binocula
rs. “The temperature will drop rapidly once the sun is down. If they have heat sensors . . .”

  “I know. Or motion detectors, or plain old night vision goggles for any guards walking the fence line, we’re screwed. We’ll have to ride hard to get to the fence on schedule. The horses will be hot enough to light up any infra reds by the time we get there. We'll stick to the gullies, try to keep them out of sight.”

  They returned to the horses, and ate the last of the food they'd brought with them. When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, leaving the desert to cool as darkness approached, they climbed back into the saddle. Hugging the cliffs and using the giant rock formations to mask their movements as best they could, they pushed forward towards the chain link fence. When the light finally failed, and the sky filled with stars, they increased their speed to a canter, eating up the distance to the base. Searchlights from the four corner towers activated, casting four great sweeping beams of light across the desert, searching for intruders. The south east tower searchlight lit up the cliffs ahead of them about once every four minutes.

  Mitch reigned his horse to a halt, watching the nearest searchlight beam rake the desert. “That’s something we missed.”

  “We must go in on foot,” Gunter observed. “The horses will be seen in that light.”

  They concealed the animals in a recess in the rock wall, shouldered their packs and continued on foot toward the searchlight's outer reach. They hid and watched the massive beam crawl across the desert toward them, touch the cliff face, then sweep away slowly to the west. Once the foot of the cliff was in shadow, they ran forward over dry, rocky ground, in search of cover. Mitch glanced to his left, gauging the distance to the beam as it reached the end of its arc, and started back. Straining under the weight of their packs, they dived into a shallow depression, hidden by a boulder, and waited while the beam passed over them. It moved on, illuminating the cliff, before rolling back over them a second time on its long patrol to the west. Mitch started to rise, but Gunter’s powerful hand pulled him back down.