They had spent the first few days at Epsilon Eridani looking for the enemy, as usual, but did not find anything suspicious. The initial search completed, Terri Michael had sprung the exercise on them, giving them 24 hours to find and strike the target she described. Ryan and Jayvon were now closing in on a few candidates that Intel Officer Jack Ballard had given them from their earlier search for the enemy. It felt slightly like cheating to exploit their pre-existing data, but hell, Michael had said 'find it' she didn't say 'find it without using the old data.' So, they did.
Finally, Jayvon leaned back from his screen, pointing.
"OK here is an iron - computer says it's one-fifty long. It looks pretty lumpy so it might be an aggregation."
"Solid or rockpile, Mister Dean, we'll kill it," Ryan answered.
"OK designate that Alpha-one."
"Alpha?"
"Yeah, Alpha as in asteroid."
Ryan laughed. "Crap. I should have thought of that myself. OK, Alpha-one it is."
"There is another one, here-" he pointed to another dot on the display. "It's about two-twenty-five and looks less like a rockpile to me. Designate Alpha Two."
"Looks like there are a couple more..." Ryan began, then stopped. "But we have two good targets."
Carol walked back over to the Weapons station and had her techs select the two targets and designate preliminary weapons for each. At that point, all she needed to know was which target to strike, and with what. When she returned to the Surveillance position, Ryan was hanging up the ship phone.
"Carol, you ready?"
"We are. Just need her to tell me which one and with what."
"OK, good. She's on her way now."
A minute later both Commander Michael and XO James George arrived.
"Show me."
Jayvon looked at Ryan expecting the senior officer to respond, but Ryan indicated that Jayvon should give the update.
"Yes, ma'am. We've located two targets which meet your requirements. Both are irons. One is about one hundred fifty meters long and looks to us like an aggregation. See here-" he pointed to the display "-the surface is pretty lumpy."
"And the other?"
"Another iron, about two hundred twenty-five meters. To our eyes that one looks more solid, but as you know, that's guesswork much of the time."
"Yes, I understand."
She walked back to confer with XO George and then came back and turned to Carol.
"Lieutenant Hansen, you have thirty seconds to execute an attack on Lieutenant Dean's target Alpha-two. I want two Lances and a Bludgeon. Go."
Carol hustled the thirty feet back to Weapons and gave the instructions to her techs. In twenty seconds all three weapons were on their way.
"Not bad, Lieutenant." James George, standing close behind her, commented.
"Yes, sir. We did have the rotaries out with a variety of weapons, so we saved that time."
George walked back over to the Surveillance position to see the results of the attack. After about ten minutes the asteroid lit up with the detonations of all three weapons. Carol was surprised at how bright the Bludgeon explosion was — several times brighter than the Lances.
"Wow that was intense," she said to herself.
"Yeah, good word for it,'" XO George said to her quietly as he turned and left the Bridge.
May 2078
ISC Fleet HQ Intel Section
Ft. Eustis, VA
Monday, May 2, 2078, 1025 EDT
Frances usually spent the first couple of hours in the office reviewing the SLIP scanner results from the previous night. She wasn't quite sure why she did it, but it was something they used to do at NSA sometimes, and it just felt necessary to her. Somehow, maybe, she thought, I might see something the computers don't. As the channels moved in a steady flat line across her screen, a few Fleet transmissions appeared, all normal, well recognized, entirely routine. As she lifted her tea to take a sip, there was a small interruption in the steady line of the last two channels. It had been just a rumble on the line, nothing to trip the scanner to record. Static? Some other kind of interference? She ran the data back and replayed it, twice, zooming in on those two channels. No, she wasn't imagining it. Frances picked up her phone and made a secure call to Jackson Hole. A sleepy voice answered.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wilson."
"Hello, Lloyd. I have a question for you."
She had never called him before, so Lloyd pulled himself out of bed, trying to get himself fully awake.
"What is it?"
"I've seen some interference, maybe static, on two channels. I can send you the data if you-"
"Frances," he interrupted, suddenly fully alert. "There is no such thing as static on SLIP. Any signal in any channel is artificial."
As Frances thought about the implications of that, Lloyd continued, "Send me the data but if it's showing up in two channels then maybe our channels are wrong, too wide or too narrow. I will get over to the office right away. Send me the data."
She hung up the phone and packaged up the scan data for transmission to FPI. That gone, she walked to Ron Harris' office.
"Hello Frances, good morning."
She skipped the pleasantries, as she often did when she had something else on her mind. Harris had long ago come to understand this was just how she was. She didn't mean to be rude.
"We might have something in the SLIP scan," she said directly.
Harris looked up hopefully. "Really? When?"
"Last night. I thought it might be some kind of interference, but Lloyd says that can't happen. It has to be artificial."
"So, what now?"
"I want to get the other stations to look for this in their scans as well and report the time it was seen."
"You think it's a message?"
"Well, if it isn't natural and isn't ours, we need to process it and see."
"Proceed. We won't know anything for a couple of days, I know, but keep me posted."
She went to the Intel communications office and drafted a message to the SLIP scanners at Inor, Tranquility, and Kapteyn.
PRIORITY 207805021530UTC
TO: SLIPSTATION T, SLIPSTATION I, SLIPSTATION K
FROM: FLEETINTEL/WILSON
POSSIBLE MESSAGE NOTED HERE IN SCAN DATA CHANNELS 998 999 AT 207804302131 UTC.
REVIEW SCANS IMMEDIATELY FOR ANY CORRESPONDING ACTIVITY AND REPORT TIMES TO ALL
END
She stopped back at Harris' office.
"It's sent, Captain. As you said, it will be a couple days before we hear anything."
"Very well. Thanks, Frances."
She left his office and returned to her own small space. She looked again at the signal the scanner had detected. It really wasn't much more than a pebble in the smooth line of the scan data. An hour later her phone rang.
"Hello Lloyd," she answered.
"Mrs. Wilson, I think we may have something here. I'm getting the engineers that did the channels work with me back in, and we're going to see what we can figure out."
"Can you tell anything from what I sent?"
"Not really. We can use what we have to get a location but if we want to get inside the message we need to catch the content on a regular receiver."
"Yes, I understand that."
"But Mrs. Wilson, this means that we were right about SLIP. They are using it, and so we can use that against them."
"Well, Lloyd, let's not go too far - this could be some other species we are not aware of. It isn't necessarily an enemy signal."
The was an audible sigh on the line. "Really, Mrs. Wilson, you can be so discouraging sometimes."
Frances smiled. "I've had more time to make mistakes than you have, Lloyd. I've had enough egg on my face over the years to make a thousand omelets, so I've learned to remain skeptical until the data is really in."
"A thousand omelets - did you have to remind me I missed breakfast?" he said, laughing.
"Well, go get some because we won't know anything for a while unl
ess the stations report on their own."
"Goodbye, Mrs. Wilson."
"Good day, Lloyd. Let me know if there is anything I can do for your team."
They hung up, and Frances went back to reviewing the scans.
ISC Fleet HQ Operations Section
Ft. Eustis, VA
Saturday, May 7, 2078, 0900 EDT
The new Fleet Chief of Operations, Admiral Patricia Jane Cook, had already been in her office for several hours, weekend or not, and her third cup of coffee was cooling on her desk. Her close-cropped silver-flecked hair contrasted with her dark skin as she stared at the daily ship status report on her tablet. Her round face with its pleasant, soft features was a lie. She was as hard and demanding an officer as any in the Fleet, with a well-known intolerance for errors and delay. But on this day, she was more worried than angry. Unity Class Destroyer Otbara, her name the Russian word for ‘Valor,’ was overdue. She had made the required call leaving GJ 54.1, heading for her next stop, GJ 1061, just 3.8 light years away. But that was 10 days ago, and they had heard nothing more. Cook dropped her tablet on the desk and got up, headed for the outer office. Her assistant, LCDR Mark Rhodes, was working at his desk, also heedless of the weekend. Mark was still adjusting to his new Chief, who had been on the job less than a month. She dropped into the chair across from him. Rhodes had become accustomed to these unannounced arrivals, knowing they generally signaled an incoming salvo of problems for him to address.
"Ma'am?" he asked, inviting her to express what was on her mind.
"Otbara," she said flatly.
Rhodes leaned back in his chair, still looking at the admiral.
"I was looking at that yesterday - ten days is it?"
Cook nodded.
"In that case, ma’am, she's overdue."
Cook closed her eyes for a moment, thinking, then re-opened.
"What do we have?"
Rhodes checked the current ship dispositions on his tablet.
"Columbia and Antares will be at Kapteyn later today. They would be the closest. Beyond that-"
"Never mind. Order them to proceed immediately to GJ 1061."
Cook stood as abruptly as she had arrived and disappeared back into her office, the door closing with a noise that was not quite a slam, but far louder than the usual gentle thud. She sat for a moment before picking up the phone and dialing the Operations Center.
"CINC please this is Cook...Yes, sir...Sir, Otbara is overdue. I am ordering Columbia and Antares to GJ 1061 to investigate...no sir, nothing since the routine exit message from GJ 54.1...Yes, sir I will...thank you, sir."
Mark Rhodes issued a short, direct, alarming message and sent it immediately.
FLASH 207805071400 UTC
TO: ANTARES, COLUMBIA
CC: CINCFLEET
FROM: FLEETOPS
OTBARA OVERDUE ENROUTE GJ 1061 ETA 207805011800
PROCEED IMMEDIATELY GJ 1061 FOR SAR
ADVISE OPS, CINC ON DEPARTURE
REPORT STATUS ON ARRIVAL
END
It would arrive at Kapteyn Station in fourteen hours and six minutes, just after 4 AM UTC.
ISC Fleet HQ Intel Section
Ft. Eustis, VA
Saturday, May 7, 2078, 1030 EDT
The data from the three other SLIP scanning stations had come in late Friday. Two had seen the same signal. Tranquility II had been offline at the time they would have seen the signal. Frances carefully entered the intercept times into the analysis program that FPI had provided. It spun for a few seconds and then displayed a location for the source of the signal. The display showed the likely position in Right Ascension, Declination, and distance in Light Years. The astrophysicists tried mightily to get her to think in galactic coordinates and parsecs like they did, but she just looked at them and kept saying, "A parsec, that's what, 3.6 light years, right?"
She looked at the coordinates on her tablet and carried it with her to the stellar position reference board outside Harris' office. She could hear him talking to the Chief of Operations, Admiral Cook. It was not good news, she could tell, as he finished.
"Yes, Patty, we'll hope for the best. Thanks."
He hung up. She looked at the board, and her heart jumped when the location of the message corresponded to a single star. She was still smiling inwardly when Harris noticed her and came out.
"Something up?" she asked him.
"Otbara is overdue. They were headed for GJ 1061."
Frances' mood went from joy to pain, from the light of confirmation to the dark of dread.
"Oh God," she said, and Harris, who had started to leave, turned around.
"What is it?"
She looked at him, pain clear on her face.
"The message we talked about on Monday?"
"Did you get the other station's data?"
"Yes."
She was still just looking at him.
"And?" Ron was getting impatient, not understanding what was happening.
"GJ 1061."
Ron's face suddenly matched hers. They had an unknown message that correlated to the possible loss of a Fleet ship. His stomach suddenly a heavy stone, he walked back into his office and dialed Operations.
"Commander Rhodes it's Harris. Is Cook still there?" He waited a few seconds for Cook to pick up. "Patty, stay put. Frances and I are coming over."
He hung up and took her arm.
"Let's go."
"Cook?" she asked, surprised.
"Yep, we're going to read Admiral Cook in on our little project and let her know what you've found."
"But..." she started to protest but Ron already had her elbow and they were on their way to the Operations Section.
They walked the short distance to the Operations section, where Rhodes was waiting, standing just outside Admiral Cook's office. Frances, never one to pay much attention to her appearance, realized she was even scruffier than usual, this being a Saturday morning, but if she had to brief Cook, the Admiral would have to take her as she was. Personally, she really didn't give a damn.
Once in the office proper, Ron made the introductions. Rhodes turned to leave.
"Mark, I think you should stay for this."
Rhodes looked at Cook, who nodded, and Mark took a seat to the left of Cook, facing Ron and Frances.
"Ok, Frances, read them in."
"Yes, Admiral."
She paused to gather her thoughts. Better to take a second to two before starting than to sound like an idiot, she always thought.
"We have been working on the premise that the enemy is likely using SLIP technology to communicate. Forstmann knows of no other faster-than-light communications technology. They have built a set of scanners, four of which have been deployed so far, hoping to detect an enemy signal and then locate it using time difference of arrival."
She paused for Admiral Cook to ask any questions. Cook looked across at Rhodes, and when there were no questions, Frances continued.
"For months we've seen nothing, and then a few days ago we saw a message in the scanner data. It was not recorded, not that it would have mattered much because I doubt we could have read it anyway."
She paused again.
"I requested that the other stations look at their data..."
"Were you able to determine a location?" Cook interrupted.
Frances looked at her a second before answering "GJ 1061."
"Shit," she said, leaning back in her chair.
She then looked at Harris. "So why so long to get this intelligence to me?"
"I understand your frustration, Admiral," he responded, "But understand, this is the first signal we have seen. It didn't look like what we expected. So, the software that we intended to kick in to record it and send notifications didn't trigger. It was only Mrs. Wilson's diligence that found it. Once she saw it, it took time to ask the other stations to look and report their times. She determined the source location literally minutes ago. I came as soon as I could."
Patty Cook nodded,
sitting back in her chair, accepting his explanation.
"Do you know what the message says?"
"No."
"Will you ever be able to break it?" she asked, hopeful.
"We will get nothing more from this signal. Time and length are all we have. I probably shouldn't speculate, but personally, I doubt we'll ever read them. If we can get enough traffic, we should be able to create a map of their organization, but that will take time."
"And why am I only hearing about this project now?" she asked Harris, curious.
"We weren't sure it was going to work. I wanted to keep expectations down and keep the operational security as tight as possible. Now that we have results, it makes sense to bring more people in."
Ron's tone was empathetic, not regretful. They had really done pretty well with the information they had, and it was just damned unfortunate that there was a delay just at the time Fleet ships were in the area. He didn't like the situation, but he didn't create it, and he was making the best of the crappy conditions he could.
"We need to send an update to Antares and Columbia. What can we say?"
"Let's just say 'reliable sources' indicate possible enemy activity at GJ 1061 and leave it at that, OK?"
Cook accepted this and Rhodes went to get it transmitted. Cook turned to Frances.
"That will be all, Mrs. Wilson, thank you."
"Yes. ma'am."
Knowing a dismissal when she heard it, Frances left, closing the door behind her. She thought about waiting for Harris but decided against it and headed back to Fleet Intel.
"Captain Harris," Cook began, "Are we sure that this won't happen again?"
Silver Enigma Page 18
