Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children

by Robert W. Ross

  “The request was for you to attend a meeting of all fifteen members,” he said.

  She shook her head. “As the great philosopher Mick Jagger once said, You can’t always get what you want. I will meet with the five permanent members and will do so from my cell. I’m not risking some…” she made air quotes, “accident, while in transit to New York City.”

  “Do you think I would go to all this trouble, just to have you killed?” scoffed Ramsey.

  “I don’t have the luxury of thinking that you have control of the situation, Mr. Secretary. I haven’t had the luxury of much of anything since being abducted by Misha Sokolov and a God blessed hologram named Coleman. You have my offer, but it expires in sixty seconds.” She shrugged. “After that, all the world’s powers and principalities won’t be capable of prying a single word from me.”

  The two stared at each other for several beats, then Ramsey said, “I believe you, and accept your terms.”

  “Excellent,” said Charlotte, “When should I expect—”

  “With one minor caveat,” interrupted the Secretary.

  Omandi narrowed her eyes and tapped meaningfully on her hand terminal. “Clock’s still running, Douglas. You now have thirty-five seconds.”

  He held up both hands. “Now just a minute, Charlotte—”

  “But you don’t have a minute. You have twenty-seven seconds.”

  Ramsey’s voice became tinged with a concern she’d never heard before as he said, “We cannot meet with the Council from your cell. This is a prison, Charlotte. Everything below the third floor is completely hardened against two way communications. There is a holo-conference facility on the second floor. We can use that. You will not need to leave the facility. I will personally select a Marine detachment to escort you from here to the conference room.” Omandi drew her mouth to a line and glanced down at her terminal. The Secretary quickly moved toward her and dragged the chair beside her bed. He sat down and reached for her hand. She drew back. “Please, Charlotte, be reasonable. We’ve come this far together. Honestly, I believe we want the same thing.”

  “Times up, Douglas,” she said flatly, and watched his face begin to crumble into despair. “But, I accept your modification. I will meet with the five permanent members in your holo-conference room.”

  Ramsey let out a relieved sigh and nodded. “Thank you, Ms. Omandi. I appreciate your flexibility on this point. I believe you—”

  “Honestly, Douglas, I don’t really care what you believe. I’m not trying to be rude, but as I mentioned moments ago, I have little personal latitude, and absolutely no room for luxuries like belief. When will the leaders be available to meet?”

  “You mean the Ambassadors?” he asked.

  She squinted at him. “Are you kidding me right now, Douglas? The entire human race is at stake. Do you honestly think I would allow any chance of my words being misinterpreted? Let me be perfectly clear. When will the UK Prime Minister and US, French, Chinese, and Russian Presidents be available to meet?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we can arrange something within the next day or so.”

  “Tick-tock, Douglas. Assuming neither Doctor Howard or I are delusional, we have eight days before an extraterrestrial can of Raid is sprayed all over our little blue planet.” He paled. Charlotte reached out to lay her hand on his. “Why Secretary Ramsey, are you actually starting to believe me?”

  The older man slid his hand from hers, rose, and said, “To paraphrase you, madam, I do not have the luxury of not believing you.”

  She smiled at him. “Good, then please be so kind as to give me twenty-four hours notice. I would like enough time to draft and prepare my opening remarks.”

  “Your what?”

  “Opening remarks. Douglas, you don’t expect me to simply show up and be peppered with questions as if I were, well, you in front of a Senate confirmation hearing?” She laughed. “That’s almost as ridiculous as my being questioned by ambassadors. Of course I will have opening remarks. I will keep them to ten minutes or less.” She smiled. “Wouldn’t want to bore anyone.”

  “Uh,” he stammered, “oh, of course not. Very well, ten minutes of opening remarks. I can arrange that.”

  He reached for her hand terminal. Charlotte arched an eyebrow and laid a hand protectively over the device. “What? You can’t have that back, Douglas. What would I use to draft my remarks? Besides, I rather enjoyed my austere movie night and that’s one luxury I think we both can permit me. Don’t you agree?”

  He only paused a moment then gave her a warm smile. “Of course, Charlotte. After all, that last bit of recreation seems to have done us both a world of good. I actually remember watching Wargames with my older bother. It really is a wonderful old movie.”

  She returned his smile and said, “I couldn’t agree with you more, Secretary Ramsey.”

  Chapter 38

  A Gate to Perdition

  Chao’s eyes flew open and he sat upright. He felt the familiar internal buzzing that always accompanied stressful situations. The world came into sharp focus and he quickly scanned his quarters which were bathed in a soft red glow. The daemon seemed to glare at him from the room’s display panel. “Turn off that damned alarm,” shouted Keung. “You are going to wake everyone up and I need them rested. We don’t know when—”

  The sound immediately stopped, but the daemon said, “Each of the crew’s quarters is equipped with ultra-wideband, Commander. I shaped the alarm to wake you, not others.”

  Chao nodded. “Considerate of you, but don’t ever do that again.”

  The daemon’s face broke apart and reformed, then it said, “New operating constraints received and acknowledged.”

  “Good,” grumbled Chao, “I need rest too, so hope you had a good reason for disturbing it.”

  “I have received what I believe to be the first evidence that Captain Omandi is activating her component of the emergency flare protocol. I thought you would want to know immediately. Did I err in that conclusion?”

  Keung felt his pulse increase, concentrated, and the beats slowed. “You did not err. What is her status?”

  “Unknown at this time. I have not attempted to make contact. However, given that the captain initiated the media associated with her emergency flare protocol, it is reasonable to assume she is unharmed.”

  “Do you have a location?”

  “Yes, Commander. Captain Omandi is being held at KS-17.”

  Keung stared at the daemon for several seconds, then cursed himself for expecting it to make even the most basic intuitive leap. He asked, “What and where is KS-17?”

  “It is a decommissioned nuclear silo in Kansas. The silo is one of the clandestine operations sites identified in the file you had me retrieve, and decrypt, from Madam Ming’s Tea Company.”

  Keung began pulling on discarded clothing from the night before and said, “Coleman, I need you.”

  “I’m here, sir. How may I serve?” came the almost immediate response as the AI materialized several paces to Chao’s left.

  The Commander didn’t slow in his dressing, but said, “I want you to go to each member of the crew, wake them up, tell them we’ve found Omandi, then bring them to the command deck.”

  “That is exceptionally good news, Commander. Do we have any information on her health and well-being?”

  “Damn it, Coleman, I said go!” yelled Keung.

  The AI arched an eyebrow, “But Commander, I have already gone. Lt. Sokolov is awake and may well arrive at the command deck before you. Lt. Commander Carpenter is awake and dressing, as is Ensign Sorenson. Lt. Branson is showing signs of low-level alcohol poisoning and has just thrown a shoe at me.”

  Chao pulled on his last boot and headed for the door. “Walk with me Coleman. Where is Annchi? How could Sokolov possibly get there before me?”

  “Annchi Keung is on the command deck, sir.”

  Chao paused and stared at Coleman. “What? Her quarters are the farthest from—”


  “No sir, you don’t understand. Your daughter was already on the command deck when the daemon detected Captain Omandi.”

  Keung was moving again, but

  his head in frustration. “How long had she been there?”

  “One moment sir, reviewing crew logs. She arrived approximately six hours ago.”

  “Fuck!” growled Keung, “What in hell was she doing there?”

  “I could not say, sir. I have been expressly forbidden to—”

  “That was more to myself, Coleman. Thank you,” said Chao, as he continued down the hall.

  “Very good, sir,” replied Coleman. “Oh, and sir, to your previous query, Lt. Sokolov, was able to arrive before you because she sleeps lightly and did not bother to dress prior to leaving her quarters.”

  Keung had reached the large twin doors leading to the ISZ command deck, but paused before activating its biometric lock. He stared at Coleman, then shook his head. “Really? Well, this should make for an interesting briefing. I doubt I’ll be able to hold Branson’s attention and maybe not even Carpenter’s.”

  He thumbed the panel. It gave an affirming chime, flashed green, then both doors slid outward. Keung ascended the three stairs that led to the main command deck. He smiled when both Misha and Annchi looked his way.

  “Hello Father,” began Annchi, “you seem pleased about the news.”

  He gave a slightly relieved sigh, “Yes, I am…among other things.”

  Sokolov furrowed her brow as Chao continued to stare at her. “What?” she asked.

  Keung shook his head. “Nothing, Coleman just—”

  “I told the commander that you took his orders to heart and came here directly having declined to dress.”

  Misha snorted, then gave a two handed snap to both her sports bra and fitted shorts. “Sorry to disappoint, Commander, but I’m just vain enough to think showing up to a briefing…without briefs, might be distracting for you boys.”

  Keung glared at Coleman when the door swished open again and everyone but Branson rushed through along with three additional copies of Coleman. The door had scarcely closed again before it parted to admit a fourth Coleman. He stared into the room and smiled, then gestured to the hallway. “Lt. Branson is,” he pointed, “just there. I thought I would open the door for him. I cannot be sure, but I believe his liver has not fully metabolized the alcohol he consumed last night.”

  “Oh, feck off, Coleman,” grumbled James, as he walked right through the hologram and onto the command deck. He looked around, squinted, then said, “Please tell me you all see four fecking Coleman’s standing right here among us.”

  Misha smirked, “I have no idea what you are talking about, you stupid Irishman.”

  Branson frowned, but before he could say anything further, Chao’s voice cracked like a whip. “Crew, man your stations per drills. Now. Coleman, dismiss ancillary copies.”

  Instantly, people began moving and three versions of Coleman vanished. Chao settled himself into the large command chair and faced the display screen. “Daemon. Report.”

  The screen illuminated with the, now familiar, geometric figure which then resolved into the face of Howard’s daemon. Its eyes swept the room and focused on Chao. “Captain Omandi has initiated the Wargames video stream. I am prepared to alter it’s subtitle sub-stream upon your command.”

  Keung glanced over to Misha. “Any suggestions before I proceed?”

  She frowned a moment then said, “Yes. We don’t know if her terminal is being mirrored. I’m sure she’s being surveilled but it’s likely they are just watching the raw stream. Still, we need to be sure, both that it’s really her and that she’s not under duress.” Misha looked over at Linnea hopefully, “Unless…Barbie are you able to pick up on her?”

  Sorenson looked over from her station. She gave a mirthless smile. “I appreciate the vote of confidence, but not a chance in hell. The long distance connection with my Howard-siblings was unique to us.” She shook her head. “No, I need to be close to sense things and require a physical connection to actually share specific thoughts.”

  Misha nodded and looked back to Chao. “Tell the daemon to mirror whatever device Omandi is using to stream that video.”

  Keung focused on the display screen and said, “Do as Lt. Sokolov suggests.”

  The daemon’s face broke apart, then reformed on the right side of the screen while the left displayed a movie already in progress. A computer voice said, Excellent. It’s been a long time. Can you explain the removal of your user account on June 23, 1973?

  The entire room seemed to hold its collective breath as they read the daemon’s altered subtitles and waited. The movie suddenly paused for several seconds, then resumed.

  “She’s there!” yelled James. “She’s totally fecking there!”

  “Wait,” said Sokolov, “all we know is that someone is there. Tell her we’ve put Branson in charge and ask if she thinks that’s a good idea.”

  Keung gave the security officer a sly smile, picking up on her inference, then said, “Daemon, execute.”

  Several more seconds passed and the daemon said, “It appears that Captain Omandi is not in favor of James Branson being in command.”

  “Now, that’s our girl!” yelled Misha. The room erupted in cheers from everyone except James who stared at the security officer with a sour expression. “Oh don’t pout, flyboy,” she said with a wink, “You know better than anyone that you aren’t Captain material.”

  He laughed. “Said the Russian pot to the Irish Kettle.” Misha inclined her head in appreciation of Branson’s improved metaphor. He grinned, then offered a belated whoop of his own.

  Two days later, Chao had a strange sense of deja-vous when he was awakened from a sound sleep. This time, however, his quarters did not glow red with the daemon’s presence. “Commander Keung, Howard’s daemon is looking for you.”

  Chao recognized Coleman’s voice and cracked one eye. “The daemon?” he asked, voice heavy with sleep. “Why did it send you?”

  The AI managed to sound indignant. “Commander, the daemon did not send me. It asked for my assistance. Its external actions are extremely limited except when operating under specific directives issued by either you or Captain Omandi. Beyond that, as I understand it, Commander, you prohibited the daemon from waking you.” Keung sat up and rubbed his eyes as Coleman continued. “Given that, sir, the daemon first suggested that I activate the alarm klaxon in your quarters.”

  Chao sighed, “I’m glad you didn’t do that, Coleman. Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, sir. The daemon’s second suggestion was that I remotely operate the lift mechanism of your bed. It’s third—”

  “I take your point,” grumbled Keung. “The daemon needs to be on a short leash because it has the situational awareness of a petulant toddler.”

  “Exactly, sir. Whereas I thought it better to come directly to your quarters and wake you with a more personal touch.”

  “And it is much appreciated,” said Keung with a final blink, then reached for his hand terminal. He swiped across the device and gave an involuntary shiver as the daemon’s face immediately appeared.

  Its eyes locked on Chao’s. “Commander, I have reestablished contact with Captain Omandi and have developed a preferred extraction scenario. Would you like me to execute that now, yes or no?”

  “Hold on, I need more information. When—”

  The daemon interrupted. “Would you like to review details associated with the preferred extraction scenario, yes or no?”

  Keung felt his jaw twitch. “I would like,” he began evenly, “to review the details of all scenarios.”

  The face shattered and reformed, then the daemon said, “There are one-thousand nine-hundred sixty-five scenarios. Would you like to begin reviewing them now, yes or no?”

  “Sir, if I may,” said Coleman, but Keung cut him off with a curt gesture, then glared at his hand terminal.

  “Daemon, are you telling me you deve
loped nearly two thousand successful extraction scenarios?”

  “No,” replied the daemon.

  Chao pinched up his face in confusion. “Then what are you telling me?”

  “There are one-thousand nine-hundred sixty-five extraction scenarios, but most predicted failure. Some predicted multiple fatalities of the extraction team and, or, Captain Omandi.”

  Commander Keung dragged a hand across his face and asked, “Did any scenarios predict zero fatalities?”

  “Yes.”

  “How many?

  “Seven.” The daemon paused for a fraction of a second, then added, “you will get more information from reviewing the extraction scenarios. Would you like to review them now, yes or no?”

  “No,” growled Keung. “When will the extraction window open?”

  “The extraction window opens on July 10th at fourteen-hundred hours local time,” replied the daemon.

  “That’s about eighteen hours from now, sir,” offered Coleman helpfully, then added, “Of course, given our location at the southern pole, we could adopt that time zone, as our own, for planning purposes.”

  Keung nodded, as he began to get dressed. “Coleman, given the past two days, everyone should know the drill by now. Replicate yourself, wake the crew, and tell them to meet me in the canteen.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the AI, then vanished.

  Keung looked up to find the daemon staring at him from his bedroom’s secondary display screen. Chao straightened his uniform’s tunic and frowned at the face. “Something else?”

  The daemon’s image broke apart and reformed, then said, “You still have not reviewed the extraction scenarios.”