by Nick M Lloyd
CHAPTER 19
London, Tuesday 23rd April
Inside Mission Control, the security was just as serious. They passed through a series of checks, although the guards – who appeared to be ordinary security personnel, like Tosh – didn’t make Sam get out of her wheelchair. They just waved their detectors over her.
The room was busy – double the number of people than on Tim’s previous visit, all huddling around screens, watching the big boards, or walking purposefully.
Overlooking the whole scene was Francis MacKenzie, up in his open-plan mezzanine office. The office area had a large desk, a big executive chair which he was sitting in, and a workstation to the side. He was currently bawling out the four people standing in front of him.
At the top of the single open staircase which led from the main floor to the mezzanine stood two enormous guards – Juan and another equally imposing guard Tim hadn’t seen before.
Tim looked back at the screens. One of them showed Kennedy Space Center. It was night-time in Florida, but the video images confirmed the Lincoln was fully assembled on its launch pad. Engineers, tiny in the video feed, were scurrying all over it.
‘Apologies for the lack of a formal welcome,’ said Dexter, winding them between desks and thick bundles of cabling that disappeared through drilled-out holes in the walls. ‘MacKenzie is too busy to see you. The kit from your car has been unpacked and moved downstairs, ready to be plugged in.’
‘We can get on with it now,’ said Tim.
‘Sounds good. I’ll try to rustle you up some food,’ said Dexter, noticing Sam struggling with her wheelchair over a particularly large clump of wires that ran across the corridor. ‘Would you like a helping push?’
‘No, thanks,’ said Sam. ‘Some junk food would be good, though.’
Tim smiled – the rucksack hanging from the back of her wheelchair was packed full of sugar.
Dexter took them to the double doors that Tim knew led to the server rooms. In common with the other changes in Mission Control, the downward-sloping concrete corridor was also now lined with significant additional cabling.
‘Cheery, isn’t it?’ said Sam, nodding at the pale white neon strips.
At the end of the corridor they reached the anteroom with the four server rooms and the armoured doors.
Dexter stopped. ‘Your phones open the server room doors.’
Tim stepped forward and swiped his phone over the security panel for the MIDAS server room. The door swung open.
‘Good luck. See you in a few hours,’ said Dexter.
‘With junk food,’ said Sam.
‘As promised,’ said Dexter, leaving. ‘Remember not to go near the armoured doors.’
‘We won’t leave our room,’ Tim called after Dexter’s retreating back.
‘Let’s just start plugging in,’ said Sam, wheeling herself over to the new stack of encryption servers that Dexter’s team had brought from the car.
It took them twenty minutes to connect everything, and a further twenty minutes to boot up the servers. Once they were all active, Tim and Sam verified that the formats and sizes of the executable files were exactly as they expected.
All good.
‘Sam,’ said Tim, ‘can you run the security layer install, please?’
She wheeled herself over to the relevant workstation. ‘Ready.’
There was a physical element to the encryption server harmonisation. It had been designed specifically to stop anyone hacking into MIDAS. For each of the twenty encryption servers, Tim had to physically push a button on the server itself whilst Sam created a new one-time key exchange which she used to securely connect the encryption server and the main MIDAS application.
‘Those armoured doors outside look ominous,’ said Sam.
‘They’re electrified. A failed security clearance results in a taser-like experience,’ said Tim. ‘And one of us has to go through them later to reset the passive data sniffers.’
‘I’d love to go and have a snoop,’ said Sam. ‘What else is in there?’
‘Past the door?’ said Tim. ‘More dark corridors and cables.’
At four in the morning, Dexter returned with sandwiches. ‘Just to let you know … all the other A-Gravs have now started their descent.’
‘All ten thousand?’ asked Tim.
‘Yep, a similar pattern as before, all countries broadly getting an allotment relative to their population’ said Dexter. ‘Are you done here yet?’
‘Basically,’ said Tim. ‘But I was hoping to get a bit of sleep before we switch it all on.’
Dexter looked uncomfortable.
‘If we head back to the flat, will he have us dragged back?’ asked Sam.
‘Probably not,’ said Dexter. ‘You’ve got specialist skills that he needs. But I’ll probably be strapped to the nose cone of the next launch.’
Sam wheeled herself towards to the door. ‘What are we waiting for, then?’
Tim ignored her. ‘Five minutes and we’re done here. Then I’ll reconnect MacKenzie’s workstation.’
‘Come up to the main floor when you’re ready,’ said Dexter.
‘And then we’ll need to do the data sniffer reset,’ said Tim.
‘Okay, but I don’t have access down to the sniffers any more,’ said Dexter. ‘We’ll need to get Juan.’
Dexter disappeared back up the corridor and Sam ran the final connection test before booting up the system.
It’s all good,’ she said, displaying a test run of MIDAS.
‘full A-Grav deployment’
All ten thousand A-Grav units descending
No gamma ray emissions detected
Trending words: selection procedures, lifeboat, Japan, bombs
Sam clicked through and scanned. ‘It appears to be running smoothly – some have already landed. A fairly even distribution across the globe based mostly on population density, but also partially on ensuring maximum tribal diversity.’
‘Tribal diversity?’ asked Tim.
‘Yes. There’s basically one A-Grav unit for every seven hundred thousand people, but areas of large ‘tribal’ diversity – be that genetics, religious affiliations, or just customs handed down the generations, have relatively more units assigned.’
‘A good time to be one of the last remaining Indonesian head-hunters,’ said Tim.
‘Or an Inuit.’
However, knowing the distribution of the A-Gravs didn’t answer the questions on everyone’s lips. Who would do the selection? Who would be selected?
The current rumour was that the Ankor would select people individually based on their own criteria, but Tim had not found any substantiation for the claim. Certainly, none of the world leaders had admitted to having been told the selection process.
Some type of selection process would be needed, with strict security and management around it. Otherwise, millions of people would descend on each of the A-Grav sites and try to secure a place by force.
‘Women and children first,’ Tim said.
‘Survival instinct,’ said Sam, clicking through.
‘You look,’ said Tim. ‘I’d better go to MacKenzie.’
He headed back up the corridors. In the main room, Juan led him up the internal staircase to the mezzanine.
‘So,’ said MacKenzie, looking up from his workstation. ‘Is it working?’
‘Yes,’ said Tim. ‘I can do the repoint on your workstation now.’
‘Good,’ said MacKenzie, positioning himself ready at the keyboard. ‘So, start explaining.’
For the next twenty minutes, Tim talked MacKenzie through the process. When it was done, MacKenzie turned to Tim. ‘The MedOp applicants give me their personal data, they expect it to be safe. Is it safe?’
‘From anyone on Earth, yes,’ said Tim.
MacKenzie nodded – he understood. ‘If anyone else touched the data, would they leave fingerprints?’
‘I think so. The passive sniffers are entirely unnetworked but it’s probably w
orth resetting them,’ said Tim, simultaneously running science fiction scenarios in which the Ankor could hack into the unnetworked system.
They could use miniature drones, or ‘effector beams’ …
Tim left it unsaid. He didn’t want to be the one to design and implement countermeasures. In any case Francis MacKenzie, albeit not particularly vocal, had been a cheerleader for the Ankor since they arrived.
‘I’ll arrange for the sniffer reset but I’d like you to stay for a few days to ensure MIDAS is working,’ said MacKenzie. ‘I’d also like you to install a basic workstation somewhere near Dexter’s desk. I want one of his team to run public opinion searches for me. I don’t have time to monitor it all myself.’
‘Understood,’ said Tim. When MacKenzie asked for something, the answer was always yes. Charlie had intimated that, as well as the bonus payment, Tim would be allowed to reuse the code if he completed the MedOp-MIDAS work in good standing. He had to keep MacKenzie in a generous frame of mind.
Assuming the Ankor don’t destroy all life on the planet …
‘Filter it to stick to good news,’ said MacKenzie. ‘And strip out all the commentary about data sources.’
‘Okay,’ said Tim, leaving the mezzanine.
Returning to the server room, he found Sam working hard on MIDAS.
‘We need to set up a news service on Dexter’s desk upstairs,’ said Tim.
‘Can we do it tomorrow?’ asked Sam.
Tim looked at his watch. It was six in the morning. ‘Can we compromise on later today?’
Sam smiled. ‘I found out about “Japan” and “Lifeboat”.’
She went on to explain that the Japanese government had said each A-Grav unit created a sphere two hundred metres in diameter that shielded everything inside from the outside world, including gravity. Apparently, once active, the A-Grav formed a bubble which would float upwards. Inside it, inhabitants would live for as long as they had provisions. The Ankor’s requirements became more clearly understood: carbon dioxide scrubbers, water purifiers, waste containment, food, food storage, airtight containment, and heating insulation. All the things that people across Earth had been mobilised to produce. They would all support the A-Grav function.
None of which changed the fact that, if the shield could not be built, the A-Gravs would be able to contain no more than a fraction of a single percent of the Earth’s population; nor the fact that the Earth would be uninhabitable if the GRB did the damage that some scientists were predicting.
‘The indication from Japan,’ said Sam, ‘is that the Ankor craft will collect all the A-Grav units on a tether and drag them into the lee side of the Earth, well inside the Earth’s magnetosphere, but facing away from the incoming gamma ray burst.’
At that moment, Dexter returned. ‘Do you guys want a lift back to the flat? I’m off shift for eight hours.’
They headed back up the ramps. This time, Sam accepted Dexter’s offer of a push.
‘So, now I’m running a news service,’ said Dexter, leading them through the corridors. ‘Is there a three-month residential training class I can attend?’
‘We heard you weren’t that busy,’ said Tim, smiling. ‘A few hours’ training and then on-the-job experience. You’ll be fine.’
They emerged into the buzz of the main floor – there were still two hundred people working purposefully – and headed straight for the exit.
‘What do you make of the A-Gravs?’ asked Tim as they walked.
‘There’s no SpaceOp official line. It’s seen as disloyalty here in Anglesey to approve of them in any way,’ said Dexter.
‘I read something that said the UN is demanding guidance on how to select people,’ said Sam.
‘Probably not a good idea,’ said Tim. ‘People who weren’t selected would be less inclined to support the fit out.’
‘Yes, idiot,’ said Sam, reaching over and giving his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘That would create just under seven billion people highly incentivised to get the shield working.’
‘Fair point,’ said Tim.
As they reached the main doors leading out of Mission Control, a ripple of silence ran across the floor.
Behind them, five armed soldiers in combat fatigues had appeared from the doors that led down to the server rooms. Armed with assault rifles and blank stares – each of them could have been Juan’s brother – they walked across the main floor and straight up the staircase.
‘Security,’ whispered Dexter, turning. ‘Plutonium division.’
‘Leafers?’ asked Sam.
Dexter nodded. ‘We rarely see them. They are all in the caverns.’
‘Caverns? Is that the Hot Zone?’ Tim asked.
‘Yes,’ said Dexter, leading them outside. ‘They were originally for general storage, but they’ve been repurposed over the last three weeks for plutonium handling. At least five floors below ground level, maybe more.’
‘So … the plutonium?’
‘MacKenzie just keeps saying that the UK government will eventually roll over and we need to be ready,’ said Dexter.
CHAPTER 20
SpaceOp, Anglesey, Wednesday 24th April
In the relative calm of the pre-dawn, MacKenzie looked at the ceiling. He needed sleep. What little he’d managed to get had been troubled. Turning onto his side, he saw the bottle of diazepam sitting invitingly on his bedside table. From taking one pill per week a year ago, he was now taking two every day.
China was – constantly, of late – on his mind. One of his moles had confirmed significant build-up of army resources near to the Chinese main launch site. Of course, it didn’t necessarily mean anything, but China was the threat. Additionally, China had been asked to provide plutonium and was preparing accordingly.
Am I the only game in town?
Until he knew the answer, MacKenzie would remain uncertain of his leverage over the Ankor. They had been taking liberties since the arrangement started: they’d obviously hacked his systems and were stealing data; they were giving orders to Taylor without consultation.
He couldn’t confront them. It would simply underline the overpowering technological advantage they had over him. One thing MacKenzie prided himself on was his ability to pick his battles.
Getting out of bed and dressing, MacKenzie looked at his computer tablet. A news item had come in. The CNSA had confirmed the blue supergiant star at location 52:13:07 was a possible supernova.
MacKenzie smiled to himself. Of course, the Chinese making such a proclamation was not in any way evidence that they were not in league with the Ankor. It was entirely in keeping with their behaviour towards the Ankor since the first broadcast – a reserved acquiescence to their demands, but with a passive-aggressive tone.
Bluff? Double bluff? Two internal powers within China unaware of each other?
MacKenzie put it out of his mind and made the short walk through the corridors to the main floor of Mission Control.
Even so early in the morning, it was full.
Nodding greetings to a few people – those who he knew would be particularly motivated by his attention – MacKenzie climbed the stairs to the mezzanine level. A moment later, Juan and another Leafer soldier appeared and stationed themselves at the top of his staircase.
His workstation displayed summary information related to the GRB, extracted and analysed by MIDAS. The other launch sites were saying they noted the CNSA position but were being instructed by their governments not to change their launch approach.
Opening the latest humanity sentiment survey on his workstation, MacKenzie checked how much trust there currently was in the Ankor’s motives. It was just above fifty percent – as it had been since their arrival. Delicately poised but, as he had expected, short of the levels of mistrust that would impact his plans.
Next, he opened the latest report from the MOD on-site lead, Lieutenant Briars. It had been intercepted and decrypted by the Ankor.
No issues, heightened security visible – particularly in Assem
bly Zone (last stage before launch) and Hot Zone (which has almost completed preparation for plutonium); close inspection of Hot Zone has verified there are three levels underground; currently empty of materials but containing heavy duty cages, safes, and one-way secure pass-doors.
Close, but not too close.
The Ankor had designed the Hot Zone such that many empty rooms could be shown whilst the working ones remained hidden.
MacKenzie went to the back wall and plugged his tablet into one of the many dedicated hard-wired ports to check on the prisoner transfers.
Ten prisons had been emptied for the A-Grav installation. Over the last week, over two hundred coaches had moved prisoners to other prisons and to release centres. Four of those coaches had been diverted, lost, reassigned … and two hundred prisoners were now waiting five levels below the Hot Zone. No-one even suspected they had been lost from the system: every computer record and email clearly showed they were exactly where they needed to be. If a relative turned up for a visit, a new process would kick in to find that only that prisoner had been lost in the system, and they would be pinpointed at the most unhelpful location. If the relative called, they would speak to a warden who’d confirm he’d seen the missing prisoner.
The Ankor were in utter control over communications: email interception, falsifying records, and impersonating prison staff on the telephone.
A real-time image opened showing one of the holding cells. Everything looked as it should. Cages of prisoners all awaiting transfer and processing. They had no idea where they were but were all expecting early release as a result of the Ankor’s need for prison space for the A-Grav units.
These were the so-called ‘wolves’. Ankor analysis of the brain tissue in the Jupiter Probe had identified a certain DNA variant that bestowed heightened survival instincts. It was rare in humans, and of specific interest to the Ankor – particularly to the minority Transcender faction.
MacKenzie switched his tablet’s connection to a different port and opened the internal cameras on Kusr. The Transcenders had been instrumental in securing an earlier release of the enzyme data – now due any moment.