Dark Nights

by Christopher A. Gray

  “This is unusual. Why isn’t this meeting being held downtown?” he said, as the man unlocked the padlock and opened the door.”

  “Sir, everything will be explained to you once we’re inside.”

  The agent put his hand on Stravinsky’s shoulder and gently directed him into the large open space and locked the door behind them. He flipped on the light switches. High fluorescent lights flickered on to reveal a large warehouse with various pieces of idle machinery and a small pile of paint cans at the far end. At one side of the room there was a desk, two chairs and a desktop computer.

  The agent walked over to the desk, his footsteps echoing in the large room. Stravinsky followed. He watched the man toss his driver’s cap onto the desk and turn on the computer.

  “I am Alexei Rector, sent to ensure your safety. We need to act quickly. Virtue has access to all your personal information.”

  He opened the desk drawer, retrieved a file folder, opened it to the first page and handed it to Stravinsky.

  “Do you recognize that man?”

  It was a police mug shot of a young man, with a significant red scar on his jaw.

  “I’m not sure,” Stravinsky said distractedly. “There’s something about him. The face is familiar. Who is he?”

  “Check the name on the sheet opposite.”

  Stravinsky scanned the information sheet.

  “Daniel Santos,” Stravinsky said quietly. “Yes. He looks very different. You must have realized that I knew him. A few years ago he helped his cousin’s gang try to kidnap my mother, but they injured my housekeeper instead. He was just a kid then, fourteen I think. His cousin was killed by the police.”

  “He’s all grown up now, and he’s never forgotten the fact his cousin was killed right in front of him. Santos is as angry as ever, and wants his revenge on Mekhos, any way possible. And that includes going after you or your family again.”

  “Then why don’t you pick him up? He shouldn’t be hard to find!”

  “He’s being hidden by members of Virtue. The group has grown and has become quite skilled at evading detection.”

  “I don’t need to tell you that Mekhos is quite capable of finding people,” said Stravinsky. “Very few people can travel without being detected. Even if they use false names and passports there are other methods of identification. Face and voice recognition.”

  “That assumes people are out in the open,” Rector replied, “using public means of transportation. It also assumes they are wearing a Raim. Virtue members largely remain hidden. They move clandestinely and wear expert disguises, even changing their gait by wearing a weight on one ankle. They don’t use public transportation. They buy disposable phones, discarding them daily or even hourly when an operation is in progress.”

  Stravinsky was silent for a moment. He hadn’t ever thought very much about how far people might go in an effort to remain undetected by Mekhos and the authorities.

  “They sent this video file,” Rector said, turning to the computer.

  Rector tapped a key to start the video. Daniel Santos appeared on the monitor, gesturing with a large handgun. Other men appeared in the background. One was typing into a computer. Another was pointing at what appeared to be a map on a table. All but Santos were wearing masks.

  “We at Virtue are tirelessly committed to the liberation of humanity. We will not rest until the tyranny has been eliminated. Mekhos is an unnatural parasite attached to the world, draining us of our soul in exchange for paltry economic incentives. We believe the inventor of the machine still wields great influence over it. Kill the father of Mekhos, and it will be vulnerable.”

  Kill the father of Mekhos. Stravinsky was shocked by the stark words. To him, the research and development of Mekhos had been an intensely passionate pursuit. Mekhos now represented everything that the formerly deeply troubled people and nations of Earth had needed in order to succeed in the face of constant economic uncertainty and ideological conflict. Norman Stravinsky had never understood any of the anger directed at Mekhos or at himself. And now he felt a hollow in the pit of his stomach. He broke out into a cold sweat as he saw Santos hold up photographs of his relatives that included some of the children.

  “Thanks to Mekhos, the Limited are living a privileged life at the people’s expense. They will be sacrificed to show the world the price of imposing creeping totalitarian rule upon us.”

  Santos was looking directly into the camera lens as he spoke.

  “You can save your relatives Stravinsky. As much as we hate you, we hate Mekhos even more. Give us the backdoor codes and all will be forgiven. If you fail to provide the codes to us, or if you try to attack us, I swear on the grave of my cousin we will kill everyone you care about.”

  Santos sounded as if he were reading from a script, but it didn’t matter. The boy had grown into a man and he was frightening, clearly capable of violence. He continued his demands, reading off the names and addresses of Stravinsky’s relatives. Norman turned quickly to Rector to ask the obvious question.

  “We have already reached some of your relatives, Dr. Stravinsky, but others are missing including your mother. We assume the worst, that they have already been kidnapped,” Rector said.

  “But my mother had a security detail assigned to her. She should be safe!”

  “Those security men were found dead. We’re trying to locate the Virtue cell responsible for this, but it will take time.”

  “Where are the other security experts? Where is Charles, my regular driver? Why are you the only one here?” Stravinsky took a step away from Rector.

  Rector produced a small digital recorder from his jacket.

  “We are concerned Virtue may have operatives in the security office. Please listen to this.” He swiped Play and placed the recorder on the desk. Stravinsky recognized the voice of his regular driver.

  “Sir, this is Charles, I apologize for not being there. I just learned that Virtue has been tracking me. They are executing a well-coordinated operation that has, frankly, surprised us in its scope. I drove off from your apartment with a body double earlier, to lure them away. Right now we can’t risk using a Raim or conventional mobile phone to communicate for fear of it being tracked by Virtue. Later we will pass on a secure device to agent Rector so we can communicate with you directly. We are working on finding the location where your mother is being held. In the meantime, follow agent Rector’s instructions. He is an expert in these matters.”

  Stravinsky staggered over to a chair and sat down.

  Rector turned off the device. He looked at Stravinsky.

  “Can you account for why Santos and Virtue believe that back door codes exist?”

  Stravinsky was staring off into space.

  “Norman!” Stravinsky flinched and looked at Rector.

  “Back door code refers to lines of programming that a developer might use to gain access to a computer system without needing to go through usual security safeguards.”

  “We know that. Did you employ a back door code when doing your part in designing Mekhos?”

  Stravinsky leaned forward and ran both his hands through his hair. He looked exhausted from the stress.

  “Well, did you?”

  “Yes. But it wouldn’t do any good to have it. Mekhos has evolved beyond being vulnerable to such access.”

  “I see,” Rector said. “But even a computer as advanced as Mekhos is still built upon code that executes basic functions, like a hardware BIOS?”

  “That’s right. But in this case a better example would be the human brain, which performs many autonomous functions, like breathing and respiration without conscious input. But again, this won’t help Virtue. Mekhos shouldn’t be vulnerable.”

  “Then it is my opinion we should give them the codes.”

  “Should I give them a fake one?”

  “We must assume they have the means to detect a fake code. Who knows, they may be working with a double agent, a security expert in your office. You just said M
ekhos is not vulnerable to a backdoor attack. We’ll give them what they want, in its entirety. It may buy us the time we need to find your relatives.”

  Rector held out a pad and paper. Stravinsky took it and began writing.

  – 69 –

  After lunch there was a debriefing for each team member individually, which felt more like a cordial interview. An interviewer had set up a recording device and was also scribbling notes into a tablet computer. The officials asked about conditions on Earth, their journey and their mission. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but Doug was again surprised at the casualness – or perhaps it was the maturity – of the process.

  Doug was asked about the Envoy members still on the Twin. Aside from Bertrand, they were being held indefinitely at Andrews, virtual prisoners. They had little hope of returning home. Doug wondered how that fact might affect his team.

  “That they are being held indefinitely was not unexpected, given the circumstances,” the interviewer said. “As volunteers, the members of the expedition knew that being unable to return home was a possibility. We hope they are being treated well and expect they will eventually be allowed to return, if they wish. We received one brief and slightly disturbing report from Copernicus, from the Raims belonging to Morris and Chan. Then their Raims went silent. Of course we’ve received nothing else from any of the other Raims either since Copernicus left the Twin.”

  Doug felt uncomfortable. After it became clear that the Moon was being stolen, the members of the Envoy had been sequestered and then isolated from any further contact with anyone that Doug knew. Carl Bertrand and to a lesser extent Alfred Chan were sometimes seen at Andrews, but the others, including Cheryl McBride, were out of sight. It was rumored that they were being interrogated, and not necessarily according to the rules of the Geneva Convention.

  “I believe they’re all well and busy,” said Doug, smiling as sincerely as he could. “I was occupied by training for this mission, but I can recall seeing some members of the Envoy at Andrews, escorted of course, but they all seemed to be in good spirits.” I suppose Bertrand and Chan could be considered “some,” Doug thought.

  “That is reassuring,” replied the interviewer. “Now that we are finished the debriefing, Dr. Lockwood, would you and your team mind answering a few questions for the media? We’ll keep the session brief. We know you are tired from your journey and physically readjusting to gravity, but there is great public demand.”

  “I appreciate the demand,” Doug replied with a genuine smile, “far more than I care about my current physical condition.”

  “You may be asked some difficult questions about how your political leaders have reacted to the situation. We ask that you be forthright without being sensational. After all, we are all trying to remain positive in these uncertain times.”

  “I understand,” said Doug. And so the public relations spin begins, he thought. Better to play along rather than spout what’s really on my mind and risk being cut off from Mekhos.

  The team, minus Foley and Persaud, were on the panel facing a room full of journalists. The moderator informed the press that to keep things orderly in the short time they had, they could not shout questions. They had to raise their hands and wait to be called. A young woman in the second row was first to ask a question.

  “Dr. Lockwood, welcome to Earth, or as you know it, Foley-Lockwood Object.”

  There was some laughter after the planet name was spoken.

  “Thank you,” Doug smiled. “I know that name must seem odd, but it was chosen very early on before we knew there was life here, much less an almost identical civilization.”

  “There has been great public interest in your team, and you especially. We’ve heard the stories about how your early life paralleled that of the Doug Lockwood here, to the point of dating the same woman on your respective planets. Our Dr. McBride lost her partner, as did you, yet amazingly you found each other again. That must have been an incredible reunion. Would you describe it for us?”

  Doug was uncomfortable at hearing this deeply personal question, but his old experience with the press led him to come up with an appropriate answer almost immediately.

  “It was very shocking to say the least, as you can imagine. At the same time it was a wonderful experience. Both Cheryls will always be deeply important to me and they will both always be respected as great scientists.”

  The journalists lapped it up. It was the ultimate tragic romance story, sure to inspire novels and television shows in the coming months.

  A male reporter from the back directed a question to Bertrand.

  “Dr. Bertrand, how would you compare the two civilizations? Did you feel at home on the Twin?”

  “Yes. I felt very welcome. Our hosts were gracious and kind. However, I never stepped off the base. There were too many pressing matters. I could not take time out to be a tourist, as much as I would have enjoyed doing so.”

  Another question was directed at Doug.

  “Dr. Lockwood, what results are you anticipating from your upcoming meeting with Mekhos this Thursday?”

  “I’m hoping for an outcome that will benefit both worlds. As powerful as it is, I’m not sure Mekhos has applied full consideration to all available solutions. We’re here in the spirit of cooperation to find a mutually agreeable plan that will avert an ecological catastrophe from occurring on my Earth, one that will have been averted on your planet thanks to the arrival of my Moon.”

  The reporters and journalists immediately started yelling questions to the panel.

  “Do you think the Twin is facing disaster?”

  “How does the public on your world view us and Mekhos after taking your Moon?”

  “Are the rest of the Envoy we sent to your planet prisoners?”

  “Will you stay here if your planet takes a turn for the worse?”

  The moderator stepped in front of the panel and had to shout over the din.

  “I’m sorry, that is all the time we have for now! Our guests have a full schedule and must carry on. Thank you for your questions.”

  ‘Your planet, my moon,’ Doug thought grimly, had the predicted effect. Reporters are reporters. Hopefully there’s a court of public opinion on this planet too.

  – 70 –

  Carl Bertrand had returned to Seattle to resume his duties as a senior director of a powerful multinational technology company called TranSilica. During the long trip to FLO, Bertrand had described how deeply TranSilica was involved in quantum computing and with management of the global infrastructure that had gradually been built up to service Mekhos. Bertrand’s descriptions of a variety of other research and development work being done at TranSilica had been equally impressive. The company was plugged into half the governments on FLO and effectively controlled all R&D related to quantum computing.

  Doug, Jamieson and Smith were shown to their rooms on the base. Doug’s room resembled an executive hotel suite. It had a well appointed washroom with separate bathtub and shower stall, a tablet computer connected to the secure network on base, a wireless keyboard, a desk, a television, and a separate bedroom with another desk, tablet and television. He was exhausted but he wanted to watch the news and check the latest goings-on with the newsreader he had been given after his debriefing.

  Unsurprisingly, their arrival on FLO was the major news item. Doug had not been famous on either Earth prior to the disaster. On FLO the public had developed a particular fascination with Dr. Douglas Lockwood, the visitor from the Twin that had died years earlier on this Earth. On a news channel he saw a profile of his life, education and accomplishments, and how they started to diverge a few years before the other Lockwood’s death.

  Doug’s parents on FLO were interviewed, though they did not have much to say. “That man is not our son,” Mr. Lockwood said as a somber Mrs. Lockwood looked on. “He has his own mother and father on another planet. I’m sure they’re proud of him. Our Doug died over two years ago.”

  He felt sympathy for t
hem. It was a bizarre feeling. So familiar, yet they were not his parents. The media, Doug sighed, manages to practice this sort of cruelty on every world. He turned off the television and pushed the thoughts from his mind as he tapped the newsreader.

  Aside from being almost weightless, the tablet operated similarly to those back home with a gesture-based touch interface. When turned off the tablet was as transparent as glass, changing luminosity depending on the content. The help system was very forgiving of a new user, so he was able to navigate quickly.

  Apart from news on his team’s arrival, The Moon Returns was the dominant story. There was a section detailing the progress and how Mekhos would carefully and gradually bring the Moon into orbit in a way that would help avoid the worst of the earthquakes that had plagued the planet after the trans-dimensional transfer.

  According to the report, the Moon was already having a positive effect on the ecosystem. Its normal phases were now visible, though it would remain slightly dimmer and tides would be of smaller magnitude until it was brought into its normal orbital radius. Only Mekhos knew the exact schedule for final alignment, but it wasn’t going to take much longer.

  There had been little mention of where the Moon came from until news of an impending visit by an Envoy from the Twin was announced. The people of FLO had believed their own Moon was being moved into its natural place by just the same means that Mekhos had first moved their planet. When the facts about the Moon theft leaked, a sort of collective denial that it had been stolen from the Twin arose quite quickly. One widely broadcast piece featured a short interview with a scientist, who claimed that without its Moon the impact on the Twin would be minimal with only a few species dying off. But after all the preceding months of earthquakes, tremors, and radical climatic and environmental changes taking place on FLO, it was obviously a tough sell.

  Mekhos had been consulted by the Limited, but was silent on the matter of public denial of the incident. The Limited had then erred by attempting to disguise the enormous theft. The severity of the situation had been hidden for only as long as it took for the truth to fight its way out. Doug came across another online news piece showing protesters demonstrating in front of government buildings. Stills and video showed protest signs with a photo of the moon and the words “Replace What We Stole Now!” Doug’s comments to the Secretary General had been widely reported, as were his comments in the press conference. Lies about the real disaster lay in shreds.