Twisted All To Hell

by J E Moore

ahead of schedule?"

  "Sorry, I can't hear you, Houston," he answered. "You're breaking up. There must be a meteor storm." Buzz, burr, blip! he faked with his transmitter. "Catch you on the rebound amigos, ten-four."

  The gigantic Starfinder satellite telescope took eighteen years to assemble and was placed into its orbit around the moon in the year 2133. The nuclear-solar powered 'Eye' with its one quarter mile circumference, multi-plated dish could see ten thousand times further than its archaic predecessor, the 2050's super-modified Hubble Four. It gave Earth a real chance at discovering planets capable of supporting humans or evidence of other life before the completion of its sister program Starseeker, an interstellar, hydra-magnetic space ship to be operational by 2150. The Eye's main objective was to gather pic-data and relay it to analysts who would find a viable target and chart an optimal path to get there. Its primary control was managed equally by the three moon bases: Alpha One/Russian, Beta Two/American and British, and Delta Four/Chinese, who all worked together on a timeshare format for usage and maintenance. In addition to their preprogramed searches, Starfinder underwent a full diagnostic systems evaluation once a month which took twenty-four hours to complete and was conducted by N.A.S.A. in the Houston Command Center. It was Doctor Louis Atwater's task, working under a government grant, to test the telemetry's purity for depth and clarity. He had been allotted two hours and could train the Big Eye where ever he desired.

  Three years later

  "Okay Doc, she is all yours," stated the Op Coordinator. "Back to you at sixteen hundred hours."

  "Thank you, Op. I am locked and loaded," returned the forty-five year old astronomer/astrophysicist. Louis removed his eyeglasses and massaged his aching forehead. He had been dreading this day, this very hour for a month. It wouldn't take long to test the telescope's visual and recording accuracies as he had done so many times before. After the tests were complete it became 'his time' to run the spectrum of his own personal sectional scans for one last damning sequence. He'd make another copy of the results and sneak it back to his office at M.I.T. for further in-depth analysis and review. He then planned to submit his findings and rationale to his three closest friends - former colleagues and also his brother. "The results are clear to me, but I want collaboration. The burden of proof is not going to rest on my shoulders alone in revealing Pandora," that was the code name he gave for his discovery. Inwardly, he ardently wished his calculations to be proven wrong and subsequently he had made an erroneous assumption. "At worse, if my discovery is deemed to be True, perhaps she won't be found again for another hundred years, maybe more... let's hope so." In retrospect he reflected, "Our N.A.S.A astronomers and programmers have always focused on a single predetermined target, not as I have done. But then again, Starfinder is a world-shared instrument and everyone with access has their own agenda. Even though I believe I discovered her first and the data appears concrete to me, I still personally need additional trusted opinions made in the strictest of confidence." He completed his routine, gathered his findings, scrambled his files and left the facility - never expecting to return.

  Four months later

  At the National Security Agency's headquarters in Washington, D.C. in attendance were the directors of the C.I.A, F.B.I, N.A.S.A, D.H.S, N.S.A. and the U.S. Marshall's Office. "Gentlemen, just a couple of more items in conclusion of this initial briefing," pronounced the N.S.A. chairperson. "You have your dossiers and assignments. I expect twice daily reports to this office and if there are any breaking developments they shall be immediately relayed to all agencies. I reiterate: Several scientists and astronomers have been reported missing or found dead in other high-tech communities. Their common link is they were all involved in their country's participation in the timeshare program: Starfinder. We here in the U.S. will make every effort to assist our international friends and colleagues in all ways possible but remember our number One priority is maintaining the security and safety of our own citizens and in doing so we are immediately implementing the American, Counter-Operation: Pandora. Gentlemen, it is imperative we locate Doctor Louis Atwater and his former associate, a Swedish national, Fredrik Johannsen, who entered the U.S. two months ago. Mister Johannsen at this point is more than just a person of interest. It may be possible they are coconspirators in a plot to sabotage or seize control of the international Starfinder program. We cannot let that happen. The discovery and subsequent colonization of another earth-class planet is the future of mankind." He panned his rapport audience. "As they say back in my home state of Georgia, Let's git 'er done," and the respective Department heads and their underlings then broke into subgroups to discuss strategy and interagency lines of communication.

  "Excuse me sir, I'm a bit confused. Why am I here?" questioned Jack Crenshaw to his Chief of the U.S. Marshall's Office. They were the sole representatives of their branch of law enforcement whereas the other agencies had a dozen or more huddled, chattering away in not too organized confusion.

  "Because the White House told me to be here and I chose you to join me," rebuked the Marshall, Frank Weaver.

  Jack grunted, "Sorry, I feel out of place. I believe this Starfinder briefing is way above my security clearance and pay grade. It appears to be a National Security issue. I usually chase and apprehend good old, ordinary low-class, bad guys."

  "Used to, Crenshaw but you're in this game now. I've been advised you're our best tracker and I wanted you to see first-hand why you've been assigned to represent our agency in one of the largest manhunts in U.S. history."

  It still didn't make sense to Jack. "May I speak freely, sir?"

  "Of course, my boy. I'm sure the number one thing you have learned during your fifteen years of service to the Office is that we're a family first."

  "Thank you, sir. I assume I'll be acting primarily as a bodyguard to you and it's certainly a privilege to be considered and chosen. And, especially to be privy to hear all this super-secret national security stuff but I woulda thought you'd have a bunch of assistant Chiefs here for something of this magnitude and I'd be standing by on the sidelines."

  "Are you questioning my judgment, Mister?" Jack gulped and shook his head, 'no'. The Chief eyed his deputy/first-class, subordinate. "They said you were open-minded and not afraid to speak your mind. I assume it's related to your cowboy-type mentality and abilities. Even so, I'm pleased you didn't miss the obvious." Weaver glanced around, "Yes, there will be many of them, most likely over four hundred men and women per agency assigned to this search. The Government is pouring billions of credits into this manhunt." Sweeping his arm about, "All these folks have been given Carte Blanche; they get whatever funding they need. And our branch got nothing. So in return, all I'm giving them is token representation which is in essence all they asked of me. Tit for tat. Besides like you said, we track and apprehend real criminals, not science geeks. These men they're pursuing are geniuses in their fields but they could also be deep-cover enemy agents who could become disguised as the Pope himself if they wanted to. They're that smart. It's best the C.I.A. and N.S.A. do the heavy lifting on this one." He shrugged his shoulders, "Hell, I have no idea of the inner workings of some of these agencies. Maybe that's why they didn't give me any financial backing." He waved at the Director of Homeland Security and gave the official plastic smile. "Son, you're looking at politics at its finest... or worse. It reminds me of that farce of the late, now defunct Olympic Games. The renowned event after a coupla' thousand years finally evolved into being no more than a contest to increase the number of participating nations of the previous host's games for advertising and propaganda. Everyone knows the annual 'Worlds' has always been the important stuff." He patted Crenshaw on the back, "So, I guess as far as you're concerned, it's better to find out the score now rather than later. It's just you my boy, make us proud. However, on the brighter side there are three things you'll receive on this assignment which aren't too bad. I, myself only get two... morning coffee and the newspaper before some big shot in the government drops a
ton of grief on me every dang day. Let's put that aside and think happy thoughts. Number one: you'll get your own office here in D.C. and daily updates from all the other agencies. You'll be in the infamous 'loop' like me! Just to be clear, son, don't waste my time by sending me a barrage of useless daily status reports to justify your existence. You can send all the garbage to you desire to the other folks. I expect only relevant information such as you saying you have one of these super-important science dudes in cuffs or tied-up in the trunk of your car. Get my drift? Number two: you can go wherever you please without accounting to anyone. Ain't that peachy? Just remember to submit vouchers for any charges your partner won't cover. Oh yeah, I almost forgot; I said a partner, that's a third item. Lucky you, an F.B.I. special agent will be assigned to your operation... in assistance. Probably some grunt who's real function is to spy on you and pass whatever findings you may develop to the Bureau so they can act on it and take credit." At that point Weaver saw a young man wearing a new J.C. Penny business suit approaching them. "And speaking of the devil,