by A J Marshall
Richard shook his head. “Are they sure that’s the only delivery system available on the Enigma? I mean, EMILY would know the risks associated with that profile, too . . . she’s been a long way to get those pathogens . . . it works both ways.”
“Professor Nieve has said that there is nothing onboard the Enigma that could double as a controllable delivery system and only an astroengineer would have the knowledge and skill to modify one of the sample pods in their inventory. Even if Gregory Searle is alive, he certainly does not have those capabilities.”
“So the Professor thinks that EMILY is committed?”
“In more ways than one!”
Richard nodded his understanding – it was clear that the odds were stacked heavily against them. The Dispatcher outside caught Richard’s eye; he was waving his arms in a desperate attempt to attract Richard’s attention. When Richard looked at him, the man gave an ‘away chocks’ hand signal. Richard looked down; he had deselected the ground controller’s frequency. “Oh shit!” he cursed and with his thumbs rolling outwards he gave the man the signal to go ahead and remove the restrainers. The Dispatcher pressed something in his hand and hydraulic clamps detached from the landing gear struts and descended into the concrete. A light extinguished on the instrument panel.
Undeterred by Rothschild’s news, Richard looked across at Yannick and said: “Ask for take-off, will you?” Then he turned his attention back to Rothschild. “Because of that direct attack, Peter, EMILY knows her secret is out. She will be on full alert and expecting more of the same. She also knows that a pod in free-fall is fair game. In other words, she will expect us to target it during re-entry and will use her weapon control and laser system to cover the pod’s trajectory until it is low enough to open.” Richard tapped the instrument panel cowling nervously. He had another idea, but it would have implications – possibly criminal implications. I will cross that bridge when I come to it, he thought. “Listen, Peter, I have an idea, and for it to work the window of opportunity is very limited . . .”
“We have take-off clearance, Commander,” interjected Yannick.
“Richard, what is your plan?”
“I haven’t time to explain, Peter, sorry. But I need to talk to Mubarakar. Let Roper know that I’m lifting from London Cityport and climbing directly to seventy per cent elliopheric. For this idea to work the Ares will be bait . . . I’ll call you back!”
Richard glanced at his co-pilot. “Checklist, Yannick!”
“Completed, Commander.”
“Copied! Well done! You have control. Vertical climb to the Compton Gate and then join the Dover Four Bravo transition . . .”
“Me, sir?”
“Yes you! Don’t forget, we’ve not much fuel and so we’re very light. All the same use eighty per cent combined thrust – forget burning the tarmac. When established in the transition, call London Control for an uninterrupted climb. I need to make another call.”
Richard redialled Professor Mubarakar’s number and pressed the initiate button. He listened intently to the calling tone and to his dismay the number continued to ring. Feeling distinctly uneasy he cut off the call and tried again.
Suddenly someone answered; Richard’s relief was palpable. “Hello,” the man said, and Richard instantly recognised Mubarakar’s deep, resonant tone.
“Professor, it’s Richard, I’ve been trying to get hold of you . . . Is Naomi with you?”
“Yes, Richard. Madame is here and Asharf, too.”
“What about the machine, professor . . . ? Did it work?”
“It is incredible, my young friend. Madame first tried the more modern languages, those that she speaks easily – Arabic and Latin – but to no avail. Then Coptic and Ancient Egyptian where she has less fluency – again it did not respond. But it seems that there is enough commonality between the old language of Atlantis and Ancient Greek for the figure to understand. It moves, my boy . . . it moves!”
“Where are you, exactly?”
“We approach the Plateau of Giza. There is a religious festival here . . . a national holiday! Today of all days, the way is clear.”
“Good! Please, Professor. Be specific. How long until you reach the Great Pyramid?”
“Ten minutes, not more . . . and then another ten to gain entry. Madame has taken me into her confidence. She will take me inside – to see the fabled temple. The machine moves slowly but precisely.”
“Okay, now please listen, Professor. The experiment continues. I’ll explain later. Do you have a watch?”
“Of course! I have my trusted pocket watch, handed down to me by my father. The mechanism is a century old but it keeps perfect time.”
Richard paused. “We have a critical situation but I have an idea. For it to work, everything depends on timing. I cannot emphasise that enough, Professor. There is something I want you to do and you must be absolutely precise in your timing – a second too soon or a second too late and I will fail. But first you must set your watch to Universal Corrected Time.”
“Yes, I understand. I adjust it now. What time do you have?”
“On the third mark it will be fourteen zero six. Six minutes after two precisely . . . Now, now, now!”
“I have it!”
“Good. 14:30 . . . that is the critical time. That’s when Asharf must open the trap door. The secret lies in the Queen’s Chamber – he will remember, and Naomi will, too.”
“But there is nothing in the Queen’s Chamber. Only the outline of a granite sarcophagus that was broken-up and removed in the eighteenth century!”
“That sarcophagus was placed there more than a thousand years after the pyramid was completed, Professor. You’ll have to trust me on this. The chamber has another purpose – the original purpose. It is why it has a volume of precisely nine cubits and the ceiling is ‘V’-shaped to concentrate energy, and why the walls and the ceiling are of such thick granite and why they are blackened as if by fire and cannot be cleaned. Go there first. There are inscriptions inside a square shaft . . . and a code to open a trap door inside that shaft. The trapdoor is a valve, Professor, like an old Light Emitting Diode. Only then should you all go to the Temple of Osiris. Tell that to Naomi. She will know what to do with the crystal – but only at fourteen-thirty. You must ensure that the shaft that points to Sirius is opened by fourteen-thirty!”
“Yes! Yes! It will be done. After a lifetime of questions things become clear . . . If I die tomorrow, I will be happy.”
Richard smirked to himself at the thought of Mubarakar’s enlightenment. He wished that he could see the Professor’s beaming face when Naomi placed her hand in the recess and the secret door opened between the King’s Chamber and the Great Temple. “I may not speak to you again, Professor,” Richard said finally and in a subdued tone. “I wish you good luck.”
“We will speak again, young friend.”
With that, Richard closed the channel.
Richard snapped back to reality. Yannick glanced at him wide eyed. Richard looked up at his instrument panel. The altimeter was passing 10,000 feet and climbing rapidly and the speed was 500 knots. Everything seemed under control. He gave a brief smile to Yannick. “Good flying,” he said. “Now, what’s the outbound clearance?”
“We are approaching Dover, Commander, and clear to Flight Level Four Three Zero. Supersonic approved after Dover – Mach 5 initially. Then an unrestricted climb to seventy per cent. British Control has opened a corridor for us.” Yannick’s expression of bewilderment refused to shift.
“Disregard the restriction at Dover – accelerate to Mach 10. Do it now Yannick, and we will not follow the corridor either!”
“But what about the sonic boom over London?”
Richard shook his head dismissively and then reached forward and disconnected the autopilot.
As ‘Pilot Flying’, Yannick immediately assumed control. Now clearly astonished, he looked across at Richard. “But that is our clearance, sir!”
Richard felt the acceleration t
hrough his seat back as Yannick reluctantly opened the thrust levers. He knew an explanation was necessary. “EMILY, the computer controlling the Enigma will be monitoring all ATC frequencies,” Richard said, skewing in his seat and reaching across the overhead panel to make a switch selection on Yannick’s side. “She will have heard that clearance and will be expecting us to follow it. At the moment she doesn’t know who we are or what we are doing. But there is very little global air traffic and she will be suspicious of anything launching with orbital capability. She has a very sophisticated sensor system and a laser initiator that can vaporise a pea at ten thousand kilometres. The moment we pass fifty per cent elliopheric she will treat us as a threat. We are going to be a little unorthodox from here on in, Yannick. I have control.”
“Er, yes, you have control, sir, you . . .”
“This is British Control calling Ares . . . come in Ares . . .”
Richard answered: “Five by five, go ahead!”
“Message from Canaveral Centre – the Enigma is accelerating. It’s not clear why.”
“Copied.”
Richard looked across at Yannick. “She’s on to us,” he said, and he rolled the Ares – one of the earlier models of the S2 Space Shuttle – into a steep right turn.
Fitted out with an Assault Pod that was all but empty, except for a few items of medical equipment, the Ares was unusually light and manoeuvrable. Richard was very familiar with the type and had pushed the edge of the flight envelope once by achieving 120 lutens, but the authorised limit had never been more than 100 lutens and the current limit was 90 – this because most of the fleet was reaching the end of the designed fatigue life. He would need to handle the Ares gently and coax every last luten from her if he was to execute his plan successfully and avoid EMILY’s ruthless aim.
“Sitrep, British!” said Richard.
“She wants a better look at you, currently over Japan and heading west,” was the reply over the radio.
“Copied.”
As the Ares passed 41,000 feet in a rapid climb she punched through the top of the thick, grey and insipid-looking cloud. Above this continuous emulsified layer, which appeared to congeal and cocoon Planet Earth, the brilliance of the sun was merely reflected back into Space. But the light that streamed through the broad, semi-circular windscreen and onto Richard and Yannick was far more welcome. Like an early morning lunar sunrise it filled their artificial microcosm with hope. Richard, however, remained apprehensive. Their southerly course had taken them over Spain, the Straits of Gibraltar and Morocco, and now he would avoid EMILY’s interest by turning right over the Atlantic and maintaining his course towards the southern United States and therefore in the opposite hemisphere. He stabilised the speed at a pre-orbital Mach 12. He would delay a further climb for the time being. He checked the ship’s chronometer; it read 14:24. He prayed that by now Naomi, Asharf, the Professor and the machine were inside the Temple of Osiris – possibly close to the central altar on which was the chalice.
Richard knew that EMILY had a good idea of where he was and that by nature of his evasive manoeuvres he was now a legitimate target. Her over-the-horizon sensors were effective, but not to the extent of precise tracking in an opposing hemisphere. Nonetheless, she could compute his position fairly accurately by measuring disturbances in the Earth’s magnetic field, like whales do when looking for a mate. He could only hope that maliciousness and a lust for revenge against humanity would cloud her thoughts in the final moments of releasing the contaminated pod and allow him to position himself. The radio fell silent because he had left the jurisdiction of Euro Control and had entered that of the North Atlantic region. He flipped to a satellite channel and caught the end of a transmission from Canaveral that called for him to check-in. Yannick’s finger hesitated over the transmit button. Richard shook his head. “No more transmissions,” he said. “It could compromise us.”
Unusually, Richard had decided that he and Yannick should wear their helmets, because in the event of an explosive decompression there would be no time to don them, and if the ship was still flyable it might save their lives. And anyway, in the bright sunlight their visors came in very useful.
“How long do we wait, sir?”
“This is Canaveral Centre transmitting blind. Opposition passing sixty per cent elliopheric – we think this is it – this time over the East Coast. We think November Yankee airspace. I say again . . . this time!”
Richard looked at Yannick with a stern expression. “In order for EMILY to release a Type Four pod and be sure that it does not burn up or even overheat during re-entry, she will need to release it at fifty-eight per cent elliopheric precisely. Then she will cover it’s trajectory with her laser weapon until it reaches a suitable level. To disperse incubated micro-organisms most effectively in the current weather conditions the Federation has calculated an opening altitude of seven thousand feet – EMILY will have correlated the same meteorological information and made the same calculation. With the winds as they are at the moment, the East Coast of America is looking most likely – you heard them – they think it will be in New York’s Eastern Atlantic region.”
Yannick shook his head at the thought of such genocide. “The pod will be in free-fall,” he said. “Do you know the parameters? I mean, how do we . . . ?”
Richard raised his hand to quell Yannick’s anxiety. “It’s a very steep trajectory, I know that. There is a pressure switch and a mechanism that will operate to open the pod at the selected altitude. By the time that happens, it will be over the East Coast. Then the prevailing easterlies will blow the contamination over the remainder of the States. From there, and within a week, the Pacific basin will become infected, and then Asia and then Europe. Within a month everybody is dead from flu or bubonic plague or similar.”
Yannick turned pale. “Is anything moving against her?”
Richard shook his head. “Deltas have no chance against her. We went too far with this machine, Yannick, and that’s the truth of the matter. I can only hope that the Lunar Senate, having already suffered at the hands of these systems, will ban all systems above Level Six.”
“So we are . . .”
“Earth’s last hope . . . you got it . . . just you and me against the mighty Enigma.”
“And you have this plan using the Egyptian pyramids?” Yannick didn’t look hopeful.
“The Great Pyramid to be precise. Now listen carefully. I’ve entered the precise coordinates of the pyramid into our navigation computer and, using our stellar database, I’ve also plotted a back course from the star Sirius B in the Canis Major constellation.” Richard pointed at the navigation screen. “You see that line emanating from the pyramid’s position?”
Yannick nodded.
“If you extend it, it goes directly to the star.”
Yannick sat up straight. “I’ve got it! You want the Enigma to fly through that position.” He paused thoughtfully. “Why? What’s going to happen to her?”
“Nothing! Not unless she is there at precisely the right time – and even then I’m not sure if anything will come of it.”
“But!”
“I’m banking on a communication signal, Yannick. A plasma wave powerful enough to travel over eight light years – don’t ask me why.”
“At the time you mentioned to your friend . . . fourteen-thirty!”
Richard nodded and checked the chronometer. Yannick’s eyes were drawn there, too. The radio crackled.
“This is Canaveral. Be advised, opposition over Tenerife, passing fifty-nine per cent elliopheric. Listen out on coded frequency Theta Four Two Six.”
Richard checked his own position. They were close to the mid-Atlantic and heading towards Bermuda. He looked at Yannick and smiled faintly. “She’s coming in fast; soon she will have line of sight and fire at us. Now . . . change the frequency as instructed.”
Yannick nodded. “Why are we changing the coded frequency again, sir? I don’t . . .”
Richard quickly advanced
the thrust levers that controlled the S2’s two rocket motors and the ship began to accelerate. He checked his instruments as he spoke. “EMILY is an immensely powerful computer. When she was completed around five years ago she was the most powerful terrestrial system ever built. She will be running millions of frequency permutations every second trying to decode our messages. We can’t leave anything to chance – Canaveral knows that, too. Check your harness and hold on!” With that, Richard rolled ninety degrees to the left and pulled into a hard turn. Yannick groaned at the unexpected g-force.
When Richard was pointing east, back towards the Enigma, he rolled his wings level and began climbing. Within seconds a woman’s voice shouted an alarm: “Danger! Danger! Long-range contact! Collision course! Collision Course!”
“Yannick . . . deselect that damned warning system and give me Enigma’s range!”
Yannick pressed a button and then checked the sensor array. “Two thousand miles and closing really fast!”
Instantly, Richard reversed his manoeuvre and dived, and no sooner had the ship responded when a brilliant red beam of light scorched past the windscreen. “What’s the time?” Richard called.
“Fourteen twenty-eight . . . and ten seconds . . . eleven!”
“Got to keep out of her sight for another minute!” Richard screamed.
Richard began a series of high-energy evasive manoeuvres – he threw the ship to the left and then to the right. He started a sudden climb and then rolled inverted and pulled through into a steep dive. Now pencil-thin laser beams rained down on them. He jammed the thrust levers against their stops and the Ares shuddered with the increased power.
“Yannick! Quickly! Give me a heading to the ‘star line’!”
Heavy vibration permeated the ship as Richard rolled into another evasive manoeuvre. Yannick found it difficult to read the screen. “You need to head west!” he answered. “Two nine zero degrees.”
Both men hung in their straps momentarily as Richard pulled the ship inverted again and then pushed the nose to offload the g-force. “How far?”
