by Doug Farren
The programmers watched in stunned, horrified silence as the newscaster continued his report. A chiming tone caused both Dennis and Kuri to turn around and look at the monitor she had been using. A red flashing icon indicated that the AI she had turned loose on the archived messages had found something of critical importance.
Dennis rolled his chair across the floor and tapped on the screen. A moment later, he leaned forward, his eyes opened as wide as he could get them. “Those hypocritical sons of bitches!” he yelled.
Kuri rolled her own chair over stopping it just before hitting Dennis. Two seconds later, she said, “Damn! Franklin, go find a Peacekeeper.”
“Are you nuts?” he said, trying to keep one eye on the broadcast which was now showing live scenes of destruction. “He told us to stay here. You want to get me killed or something?”
“Damn it—this is important! Go find him.”
Dennis turned and said, “Tell him we have some information that has to get to the President.”
“The President is dead,” Franklin stood up.
“Go!” Dennis demanded.
Franklin looked back at the newscast then left the room at a fast walk.
“The Peacekeepers will know what to do about this,” Dennis said, turning back so he could re-read the message. “If the President is alive, he’ll want to see this as well.”
* * * * *
By the time the World President and his cabinet could assemble in one of the Thistava’s conference rooms, enough data had been gathered for them to see just how badly they'd been hit. Sitting on furniture not designed for humans at a colossal table more suited to a gathering of Rouldians, the President listened to the grim news. It was being presented by General Shen Shyu, Supreme Commander of Earth’s defense forces. He was deep underground, safe in the famous Cheyenne Mountain complex in North America. Although it had been hit multiple times, the base had survived. It would be weeks though, before the mountain cooled enough to allow rescue crews to begin digging them out.
General Shen, born and raised in China, spoke perfect English, the primary language of all Terrans. He was a very thin man with a face that seemed to be permanently locked in a state of anguish. He had been very relieved to hear that the President and most of the cabinet were alive. He wasn’t happy to hear they were aboard a Rouldian battlecruiser.
“In addition to the World Government building,” the General was saying, “the capital buildings of most of the major nations have been destroyed. We’ve—”
“Details General,” the Secretary of Defense interrupted.
“Of course,” the General replied. Looking down at his list, he continued, “Washington, Dubai, Tokyo, Ottawa, Moscow, Paris, London, New Delhi, Canberra, and Beijing are confirmed so far. I’m sure more will be added to the list.”
“What else?” the President asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“The FTL hubs at both Mojave and Tanami as well as the secondary stations on the moon, Mars, and Titan are confirmed destroyed. Cernan station was damaged but reports it should be able to resume operations in a couple days. We lost all but one of the orbital shipyards as well as the yard at Tycho. Eleven-thousand one-hundred and sixteen defense stations were destroyed in addition to the 9,361 that took part in the attack. That leaves us with 1,426 operational defense stations most of which have depleted their arsenal of missiles. One-hundred and fifty-two warships including six Shandarian, three Tholtaran, four Omel, and one Rouldian were destroyed. Sixteen others from various races are damaged. A Saulquin cargoliner with 155 passengers and a Shandarian liner with 384 passengers were also destroyed. Eighteen Razor-class defense ships are confirmed to have taken part in the attack with two others being suspect.”
“Good lord!” someone said.
“They hit us pretty damn hard,” the Vice President muttered.
“I want to know how the hell they managed to gain control of so many of our defense stations!” General Blankenship said, emphasizing his point by pounding his fist on the table. “Damn Purists were all supposed to have left Earth.”
“It appears as if a lot of them either remained behind or returned,” the Vice President said. Looking at the Secretary of Defense, she added, “I would like to know how some of them are now serving in our military. Are we not doing sufficient background checks?”
“These are all problems we will have to deal with,” the President said. “There is no doubt the Purists have maintained a presence on Earth but right now we have more immediate concerns.” Turning back to General Shen who had been patiently waiting, the President asked, “Any other bad news for us General?”
The General was rubbing his fingers across his eyes. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “We’re starting to get reports of rioting in many cities and it appears as if a number of large banks have been the victim of a well-coordinated cyber attack.”
“They’re creating chaos so they can swoop in and take control,” General Blankenship concluded.
“We need to do something quick before this gets out of control,” Vice President Barr said. “I recommend declaring martial law in the areas affected by the riots.”
“You should also issue a statement,” General Shen added. “Word of the destruction of the World Government building has spread fast. A lot of people think you’re dead.”
President Lefort nodded his head. “Agreed. General, I’m assuming you have the facilities to rebroadcast a signal to all the major networks?”
“We do.”
“Good. I’m declaring a state of world emergency. Inform the local authorities and offer them any assistance they might need to restore order. I want you to monitor the situation but don’t get too involved. All this has to be a prelude to an attack by the AOH fleet Peacekeeper Sorbith warned us about. Your primary focus should be preparing for that attack. If you have the resources, I want you to launch an investigation into how the Purists managed to hit us so hard. How many ships do we have at our disposal?”
“There are 317 battle-ready ships currently in the system. Some of them are undergoing repairs but can be put into service if needed. That includes about a dozen or so non-Terran vessels. Another 243 will arrive over the next 48 hours. More are on the way including most of Admiral Cornelius’s fleet.”
The President shook his head in disbelief. Earth had been rendered practically defenseless. Chaos was breaking out on the planet and many governments were in disarray. “Position what forces we have available as you see fit to defend Earth against a probable Purist attack. Do we have access to one of the long-range FTL transmitters?”
“The Wellington was out on space trials during the attack,” the General replied, nodding his head. “She’s one of the new command and control vessels. It's headed in system now and is close enough to allow near real-time communication.”
“Excellent! Send a message to the Alliance Grand Council requesting immediate assistance in the defense of Earth. Give them a complete report detailing just how badly we’ve been hurt. After that, alert the networks that I will make a worldwide announcement 30 minutes from now. Any questions?”
“Might I suggest we also appeal directly to both the Tholtarans and the Shandarians. They’re our closest stellar neighbors and should be able to send a large number of ships. We can’t afford to waste much time waiting on the Grand Council to come to a decision.”
“Very good idea—proceed. I’ll contact you again in half an hour. If anything else develops before then you are to contact us immediately.”
“Understood Mr. President.”
Chapter 44
“Have they lost their mind?” President Lefort wanted to throw the tablet across the room but stopped himself from actually doing so. It would have looked very unprofessional in front of the Rouldian Captain.
“There is a personal message for you from the council,” the Captain said.
Brandishing the tablet as if it was a sacred document, the President said, “This is insane! What do you intend to
do about us Captain?”
“The orders I have received are very specific. My ship is not to return to Earth until the Alliance rescinds the non-interference order. Nothing was said concerning you or your cabinet. I see no reason why you cannot remain aboard and utilize our communication facilities.”
Lefort was relieved. At least he didn’t have to worry about being thrown off the Thistava. “Thank you Captain.”
“You are welcome Mr. President. If you require anything, please let me know.”
After the Captain departed, Lefort settled into a chair then called up the message from the council. While sitting near the edge of the Sol system, the Thistava had encountered a Terran starliner returning from Tholtaran space. The two ships briefly rendezvoused long enough to transfer some Terran furniture and food (especially coffee) over to the Thistava. Leaning back, the President started to read. The more he read, the angrier he became.
Once again, Lefort wanted nothing more than to smash the tablet against the wall. After calming himself down, he called his cabinet together. Chairs and couches were pulled into a circle as the President brought the meeting to order. Holding the tablet in the air, Lefort said, “The Alliance Advisory Council has declared the conflict with the Purists to be an internal Terran affair and has ordered all non-Terrans to remain neutral until the problem is resolved. All—”
“They WHAT!” General Blankenship shot out of his chair.
“Are they nuts?” the Secretary of Agriculture shrieked.
“How the hell—”
“HEY!” the President yelled, instantly getting everyone’s attention.
He looked around the room. Speaking in a normal tone of voice, he said, “Please let me finish because it only gets worse.”
The General opened his mouth as if to say something but remained silent as he sat back down.
“As I was about to say,” Lefort continued, “All non-Terran warships have been ordered to leave the Sol system and non-military vessels are being asked to stay away as well. I know this comes as a shock even though Peacekeeper Sorbith warned us but he never could have prepared us for how the council arrived at its decision. Apparently, the Purists sent a representative to the meeting.”
The shouts of outrage could be heard in the passageway. Just outside the door, a messenger paused, his claw hovering less than a centimeter from the call button. He waited until the shouting subsided then pressed the button.
“Now what?” the General snapped.
“More bad news I bet,” the Secretary of Finance quipped.
Vice President Barr got up and walked over to the door. “Can I help you?” she asked, as soon as the door had slid aside.
“I have a high priority message for President Lefort,” the messenger said, holding a pad in one hand.
“Thank you,” Barr said, taking the pad. Activating the display, she began reading as the door closed. She continued to read until Lefort finally asked, “What is it Sylvia?”
Turning around, she walked over to the President as if in a daze and handed him the pad. “You’d better read this.”
The room became silent as Lefort read. His utter lack of reaction to its content caused the others in the room to believe that even more bad news had been received. But Lefort wasn’t reacting because any reaction would have been a distraction. The President had risen to his current position because of his ability to solve complex political problems by leveraging even the most obscure piece of information to his advantage. The message on the pad though, was anything but obscure.
Handing the device off to the Science Adviser sitting to his right, Lefort stood up and headed for the door. Motioning for Barr to follow, he said, “We need to get this in the hands of Ambassador Marchant as soon as possible. I’ll need your help in drafting some instructions so the Ambassador can properly present it to the council—we can’t afford to screw this up.”
“Agreed,” the Vice President said, walking just behind Lefort. “I believe the Peacekeepers have also been made aware of this. Maybe we can ask them to hold off on—” The rest of her words were cut off as the door closed behind them.
“Son of a bitch,” the Science Adviser said as the General snatched the pad from his hand.
* * * * *
Tom was dozing in the Orion’s command chair when he came within range of Earth’s long-range detector grid. A few seconds later, the ship’s AI demanded Tom’s attention. “The Purists have attacked Earth,” the ship informed him.
The news instantly brought Tom to a state of full wakefulness. Seeing nothing on the main tactical display, he asked, “Their fleet attacked already? How much damage did they do?”
“It was not the Purist fleet,” the ship replied. “Approximately 39 hours ago, the Purists took control of a number of defense stations which then opened fire on key facilities." The Orion continued the update, quickly summarizing the highlights of the recent attack. Tom’s heart skipped a beat when the ship included Tanami station in the list of destroyed facilities. Based on what he knew of John’s habits, there was a very good chance he had been killed in the attack.
“See if you can establish contact with Sorbith,” Tom said, after the ship finished its update.
“There is one more item,” the Orion said. “Based upon a recommendation by the Advisory Council, the Grand Council has declared the Purist attack to be an internal Terran affair. All non-Terrans have been instructed not to interfere. As a Peacekeeper, this order applies to you as well.”
Two minutes later, he was still trying to digest the implications of that statement when Sorbith’s face appeared on the monitor. “I take it you’ve heard of the Purist attack?” Sorbith asked.
“I have,” Tom replied. “How the hell did they manage to pull that one off?”
“They installed an override in the Earth defense stations. An investigation has revealed that all of the affected stations were of Terran design. The new Tholtaran-built stations did not respond to the activation signal.”
“But how was it done?” Tom asked.
“Suspecting a software bomb, the investigators pulled the computer core from a recently decommissioned station and began digging through the base programming. It didn’t take long for them to find the cleverly hidden instructions linked to the communications module. A single—”
“Don’t we have a cyber-security program!” Tom interrupted. “The station’s AI’s should—”
“Whoever did this,” Sorbith interrupted, raising his voice slightly, “had a high security clearance.”
“Sorry,” Tom sheepishly said. “Please continue.”
“The code that was uncovered consisted of only a few instructions—far too few to have taken over control of the station; the AI would have detected the attempt and stopped it.”
“So how did the Purists do it?”
“A special code sequence was transmitted on several frequencies used by the tactical data network. Once activated, the code triggered a system fault in the primary processor forcing a reboot. The firmware had also been replaced. It was this firmware that took over the station. The AI was never restarted.”
Something in the back of Tom’s mind seemed to be demanding attention. Although he couldn’t put his finger on it, he felt as if he had just learned something of great importance but he didn’t know what. Sorbith seemed to note his look of distraction.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Tom’s eyes squinted in concentration then returned to normal. Shaking his head slightly, he replied, “I’m not a computer expert, but I do know that an AI runs on at least three processors. Rebooting one wouldn’t have accomplished anything. In fact, the AI’s split personality running on the redundant processors should have noted the faulty boot and shut it down.”
Sorbith nodded his head and smiled. “That’s what should have happened, but one of the first instructions in the new firmware was to trigger a system fault in the remaining processors. The AI was lobotomized from within.”
; “But the firmware is burned into hardware,” Tom said.
“That’s why we know whoever did this has a high security clearance. The firmware had to be replaced sometime after the station’s AI was initially activated.”
“The maintenance crew!”
“Exactly. We’re doing extensive background checks now.”
“I’ll be damned!” Tom said. “The bastards are everywhere.”
“They’ve had decades to infiltrate Earth’s military.”
Tom didn’t know what else to say. He still had that uncomfortable feeling that something important was being overlooked.
“Good job in helping with the Mowry evacuation,” Sorbith said, changing the subject. “I see you’ve requested some time in the Death Valley shipyard. Take a few days off. You’ve earned it.”
“Thank you. But with a Purist fleet on the way, I’m not going very far from my ship.”
“Don’t forget, the non-interference order applies to you as well,” Sorbith said.
“I know. But if anything happens my ship can at least keep me informed and I will monitor the tactical net if the Purist fleet appears.”
“I understand. Sorbith out.”
Tom grabbed a quick bite to eat while the Orion continued to pilot itself towards Earth. Six hours later, the ship slowly descended into one of the shipyard’s berths. The Death Valley shipyard was a sprawling facility of nearly 900 square kilometers with over 100 enormous berths capable of handling the repair or construction of starships up to 200 meters in size. Being a civilian shipyard, it had not appeared on the list of military targets to be destroyed.
The low rumble of the closing weather dome echoed in the massive berth as Tom walked down the ramp. As he neared the ground, an electric cart pulled up and a man dressed in yellow coveralls jumped out. He waved then shouted, “Peacekeeper Wilks?”
Tom nodded a reply. The man held out his hand as they approached. “Welcome to Death Valley. I’m Lee Sanford, area three coordinator.”