Red Alert- Missles Inbound

by Cliff Deane

  “Why don’t you use the same procedure to get a hair follicle from Donovon?” asked the Vice Admiral.

  “I just don’t think that would be prudent. If Donovon is the man, well, whoever did this is capable of manipulating computer files, he’ll have his quarters tied into the computer server to keep an eye on it.”

  “Yes,” replied Admiral Perry, “I can see your point. This is a tough nut to crack. If Donovon is innocent, then clearing him may only alert the traitor among us. Yeah, this is a tough one. Wait, Sky, if Proud is the saboteur, then won’t he also have his quarters surveilled by the ship’s computer?”

  “No, I don’t believe so, for the simple reason that Proud does not have the same full access to everything that Donovon has. If he had initially attempted to manipulate the computer, his efforts to access databases that he had no authority to see would have sent a security alert. He would have also been denied access.”

  “All right, Sky, good thinking. I’ll have both personnel files ready for you at 0600 hours. Anything else?”

  “Yes, sir, I do have one further question for you. Okay, we have a saboteur on board; one that is highly skilled. Sir, why would such a valuable intelligence resource be placed onboard the Astrid. I mean, it’s not like we’re an SDF vessel. We’re a mining ship expecting to spend months in the Asteroid Belt. So, why place a spy on board?”

  The Vice Admiral replied, “Yes, I guess you have been out of touch with Earth politics for quite a while, Sky. The SRI-F has informed us that they will be producing ship’s, like the Astrid, to also mine the Asteroid Belt. Since that is a direct violation of existing treaty, it appears that your villain was sent to disrupt mining operations. Beyond that, Sky, old buddy, I have no other ideas. Anything else?”

  “No, sir, and thanks for the help.”

  “Well, JJ, any ideas?”

  Oh, yes sir, I have lots of ideas, but if you mean specifically about Chief Donovon, then, no sir, I do not.

  “Shut up, JJ.”

  Shutting up, sir.

  When an individual’s AI was not being called upon to respond to a question or designated situation, that AI became dormant. At least that was what AI developers said. Sky, however, was not so sure.

  30 September 2116, 0800 hours

  On Station Aboard Astrid

  50,000 miles Portside of Holly Thorne

  Captain Ward made a series of rounds to several different Departments, ostensibly to let the crew interact with their Captain. In fact, Ward was paying close attention to Chief Jay Donovon. When he arrived in the Chief’s area of responsibility, Ward found him running a series of training drills for his section.

  When the Captain entered the bay, Chief Donovon called out, “Captain on Deck!” then made his way to greet the Captain. As he approached, Donovon took some gum from his mouth and placed it in a nearby basket. One does not speak to the ship’s Captain while chewing gum.

  “Good morning, Captain,” said the pleasant-sounding Chief. “We’re running drills to improve our efficiency in emergency combat repair missions. Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

  “No, Chief, please continue with your drill. I think I’ll just watch for a few minutes, then leave quietly.”

  “Yes, Captain, I am glad to have you aboard.”

  “Thank you, Chief, please continue with your training.”

  As the Chief walked back to his drills, Ward noticed that Chief Donovon placed a fresh stick of gum in his mouth. The Captain remained for a few minutes then made his way to his Ready Room. There he directed the computer to contact the Admiral.

  “Yes, Captain?” said the Admiral, “things are going well I hope.”

  “Yes, Admiral, thank you. I just wanted to touch base with you on our progress with HT. She is following our direction very well. Oh, I almost forgot, do you remember when we spoke about our new LoadMaster, Chief Donovon back at Red Sands?”

  “Yes, I do, and as I remember you were most pleased with his performance. Is everything all right with him?”

  “Oh, yes, sir, I have been making appearances in several sections of the ship that don’t often get to see their Captain. Today, I stopped by Chief Donovon’s section and found him conducting emergency combat repair drills. I was actually quite impressed with both the Chief and his spacers. The exercise went very well.”

  “Excellent news, Al, I’m glad he’s living up to your high praise back at Red Sands,” said the Admiral. “Are your other section Chiefs doing as well?”

  “Perhaps not quite as well, but everyone is certainly within the established parameters. But, back to the second reason, I wanted to touch base with you. Admiral, we miss you onboard the Astrid, and I was wondering if you might be able to have dinner with myself, XO Barnes, and I think we might even invite Chief Donovon. Perhaps we can convince him to take that commission he keeps turning down.”

  “An excellent idea, Captain, and when would you like to hold this little shindig?”

  Captain Ward said, “Sir, if you can slip us into your busy schedule, I would be honored if you could come to dinner tomorrow, at say, 1900 hours.”

  “That sounds doable,” replied the Admiral. “Tomorrow, 1900 hours. I am looking forward to it and looking forward to meeting with Chief Donovon. I’ll see you then: Out here.”

  There were three bits of code in their conversation. First came the invite to dinner, which meant Ward believed that he had the evidence on Donovon. Nineteen hundred hours meant the arrest would happen quickly. The phrase, “if you can put us on your busy schedule” meant that Ward would be sending the damning evidence to King by courier within the hour.

  Chief Donovon sat before his private computer and listened to the conversation between the Admiral and his Captain. He was most pleased to hear the praise, and the idea of dinner with the Admiral made him smile. Donovon was convinced that he was under no suspicion and he could now further his sabotage efforts without fear.

  Captain Ward placed a hand-written note to the Admiral asking him to process the evidence as quickly as possible. Just before sealing the envelope, he dropped in a wad of chewing gum, sealed in plastic.

  30 September 2116, 1500 hours

  On Station Aboard the Leyte Gulf

  70,000 miles Portside of Holly Thorne

  Admiral Sky King opened the envelope and after reading the note withdrew the sealed baggie containing the chewing gum.

  He quickly made his way to the Head of Leyte Gulf’s Medical Team, Commander Wayne Parsons. Once in the Doctor’s Office, Admiral King proceeded to require Parsons to run a DNA scan from the center of the gum. The outer layer would be contaminated by Captain Ward’s fingers, but not the center portion.

  Dr. Parsons was curious about the requirement, as opposed to a request, to have this material immediately run through the DNA process. Though curious, he was also a professional Full Commander in the SDF. He asked no questions and accepted the package.

  “Admiral,” said Parsons, “I can have this ready for you in twenty minutes.”

  “Fine, Wayne, would you mind if I went with you while this gum goes through the process. I would not like it to get out of my sight, and I must admit that I am curious about how your DNA testing works.”

  “Ah, the process,” smiled the doctor, “modern technology has rendered the process down to inserting a one cell deep slice of the material into the DNA Analyzer, and presto, the machine does it all. No human involved in the process which eliminates the chance of additional contamination.”

  “Fascinating,” said King, can we get started?”

  “Of course, Admiral, please follow me to the Clean Room.”

  The two men stopped just outside of the Clean Room. Sky found himself looking through a brilliantly clear polymer into a room with several computer-like machines.

  “Sir, if you will look here, we have a data entry panel which tells the main server what we want to do. We call it the Clean Room because no humans enter the room, the sole exception being a malfunct
ion which brings the entire system down. Once Maintenance is finished with the repair, the room is again prepped, by robotic means, and sterilized, before reopening.”

  Sky was in awe at the safeguards in place to ensure that no contamination was possible from the samples.

  “Now, I simply press this button,” and a tray opened, allowing the Doctor to insert the gum. He then placed the item on the tray before pressing another button which initiated the entire process. A female voice asked the Doctor to select a function, from a drop-down list.

  “May I?” asked Sky.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but the command protocol only responds to the fingerprints of those allowed to operate this lab.”

  “I see, very smart,” said the Admiral.

  A micro-camera inside the encoding machine recorded the entire process from start to completion. Sky watched in awe as the slicing machine took a one cell deep segment before passing it along to, what the Doctor called, the Decrypting Station.

  Though the cameras continued to record, there wasn’t really much to see as the Decoder ran its tests, which took several minutes. A pleasant chime, followed by the Lab’s voice announced that the Lab had completed its tasks.

  Sky watched as the camera followed the sample’s path back to the original tray, as the printout appeared beside the tray slot.

  The Admiral looked over the printout and had no idea what any of it meant until he got to the last two paragraphs, which identified the source of the DNA.

  “Doctor, I want to thank you for being so helpful.”

  “Oh, Admiral, you are quite welcome. Do you need any help in deciphering any of the information on the printout?”

  “No, thank you, the last two paragraphs are the only portions in which I am interested. Again, thank you, and now I must be on my way.”

  As Sky made his way back to his Ready Room, he rattled JJ’s cage. “JJ, wake up.”

  Yes, sir, how may I help?

  “Login to the ship’s computer and arrange for a shuttle to depart at 1500 hours for the Astrid.”

  Yes, sir, done. You are scheduled with Shuttle Challenger for a 1500 hours trip to Astrid. Shall I inform the Astrid of your arrival time?

  “Yes, of course, JJ. Why would I have to tell you that?”

  Admiral, as I am an AI, I am therefore proscribed from any independent action without your advanced approval.

  “Oh, yeah, well, okay.”

  Do I have your approval, sir?

  “No.”

  Yes, sir, shutting up, sir.

  Damn that JJ, thought Sky, that was an independent action.

  30 September 2116, 1600 hours

  On Station Aboard Astrid

  50,000 miles Portside of Holly Thorne

  Captain Ward greeted Admiral King in the Shuttle Bay, and the two made their way to Captain Ward’s Ready Room, adjacent to the Bridge. Once they were inside the Admiral said, “Well done, Al, we have him. I just got the DNA printout, and it is exactly what I had hoped for. The DNA results show that Chief Jay Donovon is also identified with the names, Nikita Sergeyevich Ustinov, and as Pavel Sergeiovich Voychek. Voyhcek is listed as a former pilot. His whereabouts are unknown. Ustinov is listed as a resident of Smolensk as a factory worker.

  “I must admit, Al that I was concerned that his DNA would prove to just be Jay Donovon, a naturalized German citizen. And before you ask, it is unclear if he has an identical twin. Alan, I think you should call in the Marine Commander of the platoon assigned to Astrid. Let’s get him in here and you can prep him for this evening’s festivities. We need to make him cognizant of the necessity for secrecy.”

  “Computer,” said Ward, “inform Lieutenant O'Toole that I wish to speak with him ASAP.”

  The computer replied, “Sir, Lieutenant William (Bill) O'Toole is currently in Bay 7M. He advises me that he is on the way and should be with you in seven minutes.”

  Seven minutes later, Lieutenant Bill O'Toole arrived at the Captain’s Ready Room and knocked on the door.

  “Enter,” said Ward.

  The LT was not expecting the Admiral to be in attendance and immediately came to a position of rigid attention. He was sure that he had committed some serious sin if Admiral King was involved.

  Not exactly sure of the protocol of who to report to, Bill made the decision to stand before his Captain. He said, “Sir Lieutenant Bill O'Toole reporting to the Captain as directed, sir.”

  Realizing the LT’s discomfort, the Captain said, “Relax, Bill, you are not in any kind of trouble. Please take the seat next to the Admiral, and we will discuss your duties for the Captain’s Table this evening at 1900 hours.”

  Bill was not, at all, comfortable being seated, but to be placed next to the Admiral was truly disconcerting. He sat, as near as he could, at the position of attention.

  Admiral King looked at the LT and said to Ward, “Yes, he’s all Marine,” causing them both to chuckle, which only made O’toole’s discomfort more pronounced.

  “Bill,” said the Admiral, “you really do need to relax. This is an informal meeting, and you have not been called before the Captain’s Mast. Can you do that?”

  “Oh, yes, sir, of course,” said the LT who made an effort to appear more relaxed and comfortable. But, being a Marine, it did not really work, but the two senior Officers let it pass.

  “Okay, Bill, first, this meeting is classified far above your pay grade, so pay attention. This evening, at 1900 hours the Admiral, the XO, Chief Donovon, and I will enter the Captain’s Mess. Once we are all inside you will post four Marines, and yourself outside the door. Remain silent. We do not want to be aware of your presence. Do you understand this guidance?”

  “Yes, sir, at 1900 hours, you, and party, will enter the Captain’s Mess. Once the door is closed, I am to quietly post four Marines, along with myself outside the door.”

  Ward then said, “LT, when the XO opens the door you, and your Marines are to enter the room with weapons drawn. You will then place Chief Donovon under arrest. I will then tell you where to take him; understand?”

  “Yes, sir, when the XO invites us in, we will enter with weapons at the ready and place Chief Donovon under arrest,” said a confident, but concerned Second Lieutenant O'Toole.

  “Very good, LT, now I must tell you of the punishment you will bring upon yourself if word of this mission slips out before its execution. You will be reduced to the grade of Trainee and assigned to bilge duties for the remainder of our time in space before returning to Red Sands. Upon our return to Red Sands, you will be placed under arrest, and you shall receive a General Court’s Martial. Are we clear?”

  Now the LT looked at his Captain and said, “Sir, of course, I understand, and for the record, you did not need to further apprise me as to the consequences for failure to remember your words of, ‘this meeting is classified far above your pay grade’. I am a Marine, sir, and I take my duties seriously.”

  The Captain smiled at O'Toole and said, “I know you are, son, but that disclaimer comes with the territory. Please, do not make your ramrod back any straighter than it already is. Seriously, LT if I didn’t think you would perform your duties seamlessly, you would not be here now, Roger?”

  Now, Lieutenant Bill O'Toole managed to finally relax, a bit, as he said, “Roger that, sir. We’re good.”

  “Fine, fine,” said Ward. Do you need any further guidance from me?”

  “Oh, no, sir, I know exactly what you want, and I assure you that the Marine Corps will not let you down.”

  “Well, all right then. LT, you are dismissed.”

  The Marine Lieutenant stood, saluted, did a parade ground about-face, and left the room. Admiral King smiled at Alan and said, “I have to tell you that I like that kid. He will make a fine Marine.”

  Both the Captain and XO agreed.

  30 September 2116, 1800 hours

  On Station Aboard Astrid

  50,000 miles Portside of Holly Thorne

  Sir, said JJ, Admiral Perry is now availab
le and online.

  “Dolph,” asked Sky, “has the deep search on Chief Donovon been completed?”

  “Yes, Sky, and the results are sketchy, at best. His true name is Nicolay. He had it legally changed following his defection to Germany. That is where his new identity begins. Information on his life in Russia has unquestionably been doctored. Our sources have discovered that Ustinov is supposedly a factory worker, but it appears that no such person exists in Smolensk. Were you able to obtain a DNA sample?”

  “Yes, and we found similar results. Donovon’s DNA finds three people, Jay Donovon, Nikita Sergeyevich Ustinov, and as Pavel Sergeiovich Voychek. Since we can know without question that it is numerically impossible for three, non-related, people to have the same DNA sequence, Donovon is, a deep mole.

  “His background just seems so convoluted. I mean, why would he defect to Germany, change his name, and then the Russian Government claims he is a factory worker. I just don’t understand why the half-assed attempt at subterfuge. Sir, this has been too obvious and was way too easy to uncover.”

  “Yes, on the surface that would seem to be the case. However, this is not the first time the Russians have used this ploy to cover a deep plant. Our man is truly Pavel Sergeiovich Voychek. Pavel dropped off the radar at the same time that Jay Donovon appears.

  “Their goal has been to make a spy look like the government is trying to frame a dissident. Wait, Sky, stay with me now. You know very well that the Rooskies are very adept at the deep finesse. Hell, that’s why they are so damned good at chess. Their thought is that if we suspect someone like Donovon to be a spy, the government makes it look like he is. Now, here comes the good part. The Russians make it so easy to find him that we are expected to believe that they are trying to set up a dissident for espionage. This also draws attention away from the real identity, Volcek.

  “They have used this gambit, at least twice before. Both times successfully, then when the spy returned to Russia he retired to a nice little Dacha on the Black Sea.”