by Terry Mixon
That obviously gave her pause. She made a show of shuddering. “That’s horrible. Okay, I’ll ride herd on the Crockets and make sure we sterilize everything. Do you think a thousand years in a vacuum is enough?”
“We can’t count on it. Treat everything as if it were contaminated. We brought UV equipment. I’ll send that over, too. And I know this goes without saying, but be careful. This equipment is still operational. We don’t want to start something we can’t stop.”
“What about computers? Shouldn’t we recover any data we can?”
“I doubt our media is compatible. If you find any data storage devices, make sure to get readers that go with them. And I’m serious. Be careful. And don’t stay up too late. It’s only a few hours to midnight.”
He left her to it and headed back toward the elevator. Once he was back on Liberty Station, he’d call his father. They were running the ship on Nauru time, so he’d get the pleasure of getting the old bastard out of bed.
* * * * *
Clayton was just getting ready for bed when his son called. He headed right back to his office. The communications lag was significant, so this would be short on back and forth, though he’d stay as long as he had to.
The initial message was solely so that he could be ready for the data dump. Coming in from space, there was no way Liberty Station could narrow the beam to the point they wouldn’t have curious little ears listening in.
That meant they could be certain that the NSA, CIA, DIA, FSB, MSS, MI6, and every other intelligence agency on the planet would be working to crack the code.
And that didn’t take people like his dear Kathleen into account. Any number of multinational companies would want to know what Humanity Unlimited was up to.
With that kind of attention, there was no way they could keep any normal transmission safe. It might take a while, but someone would crack the code, no matter how heavily encrypted it was.
So, they’d decided to use that to their advantage.
He brought up the video from Harry on his private screen. His son sat on the bridge of Liberty Station. The bottom right corner of the video had a timestamp running in it. That would prove key in deciphering the hidden message later.
They’d encrypted this message, too, but only to levels consistent with the normally secretive operations that companies like his conducted. The NSA would crack it in short order.
“Dad, we’re about halfway to Mars. Everything is working well. All ship’s systems are in the green. We’re anticipating deceleration in about 70 hours. That will put us in Mars orbit in five days.
“I’m including a stream of the ship’s telemetry, so expect a transmission with the agreed upon cypher. I’ll let you know more once we get closer to Mars. I have that flag you sent along ready to plant. That should piss mom off.
“I’m not expecting a return transmission, so goodnight.”
The video terminated.
Clayton smiled. The flag reference meant they’d found something interesting. Good.
He brought up the first and last frames of the transmission. The two timestamps together would determine which one-time pad this data dump would use.
One-time pads were an old-fashioned way of sending secure messages. They might be cracked, but it wouldn’t help with any future messages because they’d never use the code again.
A stream of data began flowing in. They’d encrypted it as heavily as possible. Clayton ignored it. It was a red herring. The data was gibberish. Anyone clever enough to crack the key to it wouldn’t be able to make sense of it. They’d waste an incredible amount of computer time on it.
The true hidden message was in the carrier wave of the transmission. To “hide” the messages, Liberty Station was transmitting on thousands of channels at the same time. Bursts here and there, all sending some kind of signal.
It wouldn’t take the various spy agencies long to zero in on the one they wanted. They could then ignore the rest of the noise.
Only the noise was the message. They’d based the cypher on rapidly shifting channels and differing lengths of time on each one. And not just one channel at a time, but many. Once the computer peeled that data from the rest, the cypher would reorder them. They were useless in the wrong order. They’d also been coming in since the first message started.
Once the computers reordered the pieces of data, a one-time quantum cryptographic key would get to work on the packets. Only then would the message become clear.
It was as damned close to unbreakable as the best experts in the field could make it.
That didn’t mean it was secure forever. Someone would eventually catch on to the hidden aspect of the transmissions and start putting it together. That might take years. Or decades.
The transmission went on long after the message was complete. Another way to confuse eavesdroppers.
He was relieved that it had worked, frankly. That would’ve just been his luck if he got a garbled, meaningless transmission after all that work.
Harry’s face reappeared on the screen, this time without the timer.
“We rendezvoused with the comet right on schedule and scanned the surface. That’s still going on, but we found an intact base with the power still on. It’s sizable, so we need to make a decision. We only have three days to examine it before we break off for Mars. If we stay longer, people will start asking questions.
“But, if we leave, it will take a long time before we can come back. The orbital period on this comet is a thousand years. Almost all of that will be in the outer system. I’d suggest we leave a team to work on it, but they might be trapped here if something goes wrong. Even if everything went perfectly, it would take a long, long time to get to them once their work was complete.”
He stared out of the screen at Clayton. “I’m inclined to go with that option, but I need to hear what you think before I make a decision.”
He raised a finger. “And don’t think you can tell me what to do, mister majority shareholder. I’m the man on the scene and I’ll do what seems best. I just want to know what you think before Jess and I make the final decision.
“But, since you’ll be dealing with the fallout if this goes public, you deserve to have a say. I’ve attached the initial video footage. Be warned, we found five bodies. We haven’t searched the entire facility, so I expect that number to rise. They all died by violence, so something terrible happened out here about the time that ship crashed.”
Harry leaned toward the camera. “No matter what you end up deciding, this find is the biggest thing that has ever happened to humanity. The technological knowledge it brings is incalculable. It looks as though you’ll be making back all that money you’ve invested. Have fun counting it.”
The transmission terminated abruptly.
His son had the worst expectations of him. With reason, admittedly. The money would be very welcome and he’d enjoy counting it immensely. One of life’s small pleasures.
That said, he had plans for what to do in space to free humanity from the bonds of Earth. If this sped them up or made the outcome more likely, that was worth far more to him than diving into a pool filled with money like Scrooge McDuck.
Clayton called his assistant and ordered food. He was going to be here long into the night watching the videos of the find again and again, making detailed notes for himself and for the teams on Liberty Station. Only once they’d discussed every aspect of what they’d found would he make a recommendation.
Hopefully, events here on Earth wouldn’t distract him.
Chapter Six
Being somewhat paranoid, Nathan took the sedan to the nearest city and set it on fire. He’d already disposed of most of his luggage. He then slipped into a tourist group. Their bus became his transportation and their hotel became his lodgings.
Of course, that meant he spent all day touring the city with his carry-on bag. It was now late in the evening and he was exhausted.
The place wasn’t upscale. They never even asked to see
his passport. A little extra cash—of which he had a fair amount from the dead men—smoothed everything.
He made a side trip to the closest bar, where he pilfered a cell phone from a woman who’d drunk far more than she should have around cads like himself. He made a call to his newest team leader and ordered him to send men from their operation in France.
The idiot suggested there were closer people in Rome. While true, Nathan could be certain that any local muscle worth the name was part of the organized crime families. Not so helpful when those bastards wanted to put the hurt on one Nathan Bennett.
He scrubbed the call from the phone logs and put it back into the woman’s purse. She’d be none the wiser come morning.
He slept with one eye open, as the saying went, but had no problems. He found his support team right where he’d ordered them to go after he had breakfast. He took the phone they’d brought for him and called his mother.
“What’s this I’m hearing about some kind of gangland shooting?” she asked.
“Good morning to you, too, Mother. I did sleep well. Thank you.”
“Don’t be an ass. Was that you?”
“Technically, it was them. It seems that woman you wanted stole some manuscript pages from the mobster. Based on what the man kidnapping me said, they sound like pages from the Voynich Manuscript.”
His mother cursed. “How the devil did she even know they existed? From what I’ve read about the man, I doubt it was public knowledge. She certainly didn’t have the contacts to be aware of them. Clayton, perhaps. What are the chances of getting more information from the man?”
“Which one? The jailed mobster killed by his associates to make sure he didn’t tell any more tales or the kidnapper who died of his wounds in the gunfight?”
“Can you be involved in any project where you don’t kill everyone?”
“Certainly. The spaceship project. Though, to be fair, that wasn’t for lack of trying.”
She sighed. “Well, now that you’ve got the police and the mob up in arms, what are you planning to do to get the information?”
“I’ve called in backup from Paris. We’ll turn this around. Someone has copies of these documents. Pictures, perhaps. It’s just a matter of finding them. I’ll also touch base with the criminal element and make it clear to them that they chose their target poorly. If they have the documents, or a lead to them, I’ll find it.”
“Do try to keep the body count to a minimum. I don’t need another Donald moment. I can just see someone from the State Department coming to harass me over your killing spree.”
He smiled. “Aw. You really do care.”
His mother hung up without another word.
Nathan pocketed the phone and found the leader of his makeshift team. He handed him the dead men’s identification. “I want you to find out who these men worked for. Quietly. Get as much information about that person as possible. Also, look into the dead man from the prison. We’ll want to make a little side trip to wherever he kept his valuables.”
* * * * *
Josh Queen showed up in Chicago unannounced early the next morning. He’d learned a long time ago that you never gave opponents any warning. Kathleen Bennett didn’t know she was his opponent. That changed today.
He’d had his staff dig into her as soon as he left her ex-husband’s island. My, hadn’t that made for interesting reading.
The FBI and local police were all over her. Apparently, her chief of security liked torturing and killing people. That had blown up in her face—literally—last week. Coincidentally, right around the same time as Clayton Roger’s spaceship took flight.
Since coincidence was bullshit, the two events were somehow connected. So, the fabricated story that he’d intended to hold over her head became real. She was involved in the spaceship events. Somehow.
That was good. It meant she knew something about what was going on. The trick would be getting her to tell him.
He made a few calls as they were landing and arranged to have the FBI assist him in this matter. They hadn’t received the warmest of welcomes at BenCorp, so he could count on them making a nice wall of unfriendly faces to have at his back.
The lead on the investigation met him at the airport. That was a neat trick, since Queen had only gotten word that he’d help fifteen minutes ago.
The man looked like a walking cadaver, all pale, loose skin and gangly limbs. His tailor had fitted his suit masterfully, but that only made him look like a zombie with good sartorial taste.
His appearance probably helped him solve cases, even if only by intimidating the criminals. His closure rate was quite enviable. And the attorney general said he had a hard-on for Kathleen Bennett.
Queen extended his hand as the other man approached. “Special Agent in Charge Pembroke? I’m Josh Queen. Thank you for being unexpectedly prompt. I do hope that you didn’t break the sound barrier on my behalf.”
The man smiled grimly. “I was actually here following up on a tip, Mister Secretary. Director Bradford told me to extend every courtesy. What can the FBI assist you with today?”
“Kathleen Bennett. Specifically, evidence has come to light that she might be involved in some national security issues. I’m going to confront her about them and I’d like to have you there with me. I understand she’s stymied your attempts to search her facility from top to bottom. Has she given you a reason for that?”
The agent gestured toward a black SUV of the type favored by the FBI. “Why don’t we start towards the campus while we talk? As a matter of fact, she used the argument you just mentioned. National security. Also industrial trade secrets and other business related arguments.
“That’s been mostly effective. A federal judge only granted us access to a small fraction of the facility. He seems to feel the chances the security chief hid bodies in classified areas is low. I agree with him, sadly.”
“You do? Then why ask for it?” Queen slid into the passenger seat of the SUV and buckled in.
Pembroke climbed behind the steering wheel and started the vehicle. “If you ask for as much as you can get, then you might get as much as you need. I’m looking for proof that she’s tied into her security chief’s little hobby.”
Queen felt his eyebrows rise. “Really? You think the head of one of the largest multinational corporations in the world was party to torture and murder. What led you down that rabbit hole?”
They pulled out of the airport and headed into the city. The FBI agent drove with all the assurance of a trained driver. He skillfully dodged around careless motorists and the slow with casual ease. Queen watched a woman in the car next to them applying her makeup as she drove. She almost struck a fat man juggling a burger, fries, and a large drink at the crosswalk.
Thank God he didn’t have to get out into traffic much.
Pembroke zipped through it all without blinking an eye. “Reynolds couldn’t have smuggled dozens of people onto that campus and into his house without someone knowing about it. And that doesn’t even begin to cover planting a minefield around the damned place. We’ve confirmed at least sixty detonations. We have to proceed slowly, because not all of them went off. We’ve found two that failed to detonate.”
“That’s a lot of bombs,” Queen admitted. “I assume these were actual mines, as in military ordinance.”
“They were. At least the ones the bomb squad excavated safely were. Not US made, thank God. Russian. Which probably explains why they failed to go bang. It makes me wonder what we haven’t found yet. Oh, yeah. She’s involved in this, at least as far as turning a blind eye.
“And that’s not all. Somebody shot the company guards at his house. Ballistics says with military grade small arms. They’ve already ruled out all the weapons recovered at the scene. Also, someone carjacked an employee and drove her minivan over the fence on the way out. While the security teams were heading the other direction. They got away clean.”
Queen shook his head. “Was this a scene from a summer blockb
uster I missed? Who are these new players?”
“I have no idea. Chicago PD found the van in an abandoned warehouse not far from the Bennett campus. Someone burned it up good. We won’t be getting any evidence out of what’s left. Half an hour after the fire, someone stole a motorcycle. It turned up here at the airport.
“That leads me to believe someone raided the facility. Specifically, they attacked the head of security. They had to be after something specific. And I want to know what it was.”
That gave Queen a lot to consider. He’d intended to use Bennett as a pawn in his conflict with Rogers, but it seemed as though she was actually a combatant. If her chief of security was a casualty, that meant she knew a lot more about what was going on with that spaceship than he’d originally expected.
And, there was the explosion at the spaceport. Both explosions, actually. The one that destroyed a fuel dump and the second that almost brought down a hotel. Roger’s company blamed both of those attacks on terrorism.
In these perilous times, those explanations had held up. Until now.
There were unconfirmed reports that there was an explosion in space, somewhere near the spaceship, before it departed so hastily. Tie this together with the attack on the BenCorp facility outside Paris and this might actually be an honest to God corporate war.
* * * * *
“As an archaeologist, you make a passable engineer,” Doctor Michael Crocket said. “I don’t know which movie you used as a basis for your expectations, but I’m leaning toward one of the Indiana Jones films. I can only hope it isn’t the one about the aliens and crystal skull.”
Jess couldn’t help smiling just a little. The large man had a certain way about him that made it difficult to take offense.
Of course, she was a little tired. They’d been at this for over a full day now. It was two in the morning and she was running out of steam.
He had a right to be in an uproar, she supposed. She was treating this important site with a lot of disrespect.