The Immortality Code

by Douglas E. Richards

  Beside her, in a soft leather captain’s chair that matched her own, sat Zachary Reed, and next to him the enigmatic major. Four of Hoyer’s men sat together at the opposite end of the helicopter, an Agusta Westland AW 450, a civilian helicopter large enough to seat the two groups with an eight-foot gap in between.

  The other four commandos under Hoyer’s command had been left behind to drive out of Utah inside the two large SUVs they had brought, each reinforced with hidden armor. One of these SUVs had carried Allie and Reed to Hoyer’s chopper, and both were packed with concealed drones, explosives, weaponry, and heavy artillery.

  Hoyer had informed his guests that they were now flying to a safe house in the Utah-adjacent state of Nevada. A safe house in the desert of Henderson, a city only about sixteen miles distant from downtown Las Vegas. And he had asked them to hold their questions until they arrived and were firmly ensconced within the protective structure.

  The past seventy-two hours had been a whirlwind, and Allie’s emotions had been scrambled like a Frappuccino. She was falling ever deeper down a rabbit hole. One lined with nothing but razorblades and blood.

  She didn’t know what to make of their recent escape. Hoyer had set up a private connection between her headphones and the commander’s, and Reed had done a good job of making the case that he had no choice but to take advantage of the escape opportunity that had presented itself. He went through his thinking, his weighing of alternatives, and the pros and cons of various courses of action. He described how the men who had tragically died had known what they were getting into. Had known that if they were caught as ununiformed spies on American soil, execution was fair play under international law.

  Not to mention that she and Reed had been abducted on threat of death, with no expectation of ever seeing freedom.

  And if these weren’t compelling rationales for Reed’s actions, the stakes had promptly soared to even more rarified heights. Now, it wasn’t just quantum computers that hung in the balance, but ensuring China didn’t discover Hoyer’s advanced nanite technology.

  Finally, Reed had explained that Hoyer intended to wipe out all opposition, with or without Reed’s help, using the nanites to do the job if Reed wouldn’t.

  These were all strong arguments, as far as they went. But Allie could tell from Reed’s tone that the slaughter of these men didn’t sit much better with him than it did with her. Which made her like him even more than she already did.

  How often had he needed to take lives to save others? How often had he had to perform complex, and often abstract, cost-benefit analyses, with human souls as one part of the equation?

  What had she expected? It wasn’t as if Zachary Reed sold tofu to vegans for a living. He had been with SEAL Team Six, for Christ’s sake. Which arguably made him an even better man than she thought, as he had kept his sense of humor, and was obviously still anguished over every death he caused, not having become desensitized to them by repetition.

  How could any of this be real? She had somehow entered a funhouse-mirror universe in which her life had been ripped out by its roots. In which she was being hunted relentlessly, and slaughter had become the norm.

  It was nearly too much to absorb. And that was before the nanite technology was factored in.

  She had continued to wear a suit of nanite armor over her clothing during the entire flight, so light and unobtrusive she had almost forgotten it was there. Yet it was indestructible. Just after entering the chopper she had conducted an experiment, slamming a seat belt buckle into her arm, at first gently, and then with ever increasing ferocity, and had never felt a thing.

  And Reed had told her these microscopic building blocks had formed a working handgun as well.

  It was all so incredible.

  After more than an hour of flight, they landed at a private helipad, boarded a parked SUV, and were driven by Hoyer to his safe house. The structure was only one story high, but it was quite large, maybe four thousand square feet in total. Other than its unusual size, it appeared to be a typical southwestern-style desert home. Beige stucco, low-pitched tile roof, and a veritable forest of various types of cacti the size of small trees out in front.

  But the stucco concealed steel walls, and the visible part of the home was just the tip of the iceberg, with a sizable reinforced subterranean section below.

  The inside was comfortably furnished, and large monitors were hung in every room. These could display anything the AI-controlled system decided was worthy of attention outside, where it constantly monitored sensors and dozens of small drones that patrolled the area in concentric rings.

  The major fed his two guests, and insisted on giving them time to shower and Allie a chance to change out of clothing that Reed had purposely stained with blood. Hoyer made sure the invisible nanites slid from her body while she freshened up, with the intent of having them rebuild their protective cocoon around her after she had dressed once again.

  Allie had never welcomed a hot shower more, and when she emerged she had a closet of her own clothing to choose from, as Hoyer had sent a man the day before to her home in South Dakota to retrieve her clothing and other belongings. The major had managed to find clothing that fit Reed, as well, although it wasn’t his, and his options were limited.

  As Allie donned familiar clothing, choosing another comfortable pair of jeans and a simple shirt, this time blue, she began to feel like a human being once again.

  She just hoped that this condition would last.

  But she doubted it would. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake a gnawing suspicion that her journey through Hell was not quite over.

  26

  Hoyer allowed his men to eat, shower, and relax on the main floor—given that the automated surveillance systems ensured no one would be sneaking up on them—and led his two guests to the subterranean section of the safe house, which was as spacious as the home itself. They entered a large room, furnished with two black-leather couches, two cushioned leather recliners, and three small tables, one that already held trays of beverages and a selection of fruit, peanuts, and cookies.

  Allie and the commander sat on one of the couches, and Hoyer dropped into an upright recliner facing them. All three were in easy view of the only wall-art in the room, two eighty-inch monitors, one beside the entrance, and one on the opposite wall, tiled to show a variety of views of the inside of the house and grounds.

  “I call this the break room,” said the major. “And don’t let the views you see of the inside rooms of the house worry you. The monitors only display these when the AI, which I’ve named Ava, detects a threat. Or when authorized personnel ask it to. Which I just did for illustrative purposes. During your stay here, I don’t want you to worry that every time you scratch your ass it will appear on a dozen monitors around the house.”

  “Good to know,” said Reed with the hint of a smile.

  “And please,” continued Hoyer graciously, “help yourselves to any food or drink you’d like.”

  Allie eyed one of the many beverage selections that he must have laid out while they were dressing, a chilled bottle of red wine. She had sworn off alcohol after she had gotten her life back together, but if there ever was a time to make an exception, this was it.

  She sighed heavily and reached for a cold plastic bottle of water, instead. She already had enough problems, she decided, without resorting to using wine as a crutch.

  “Okay, Major,” began Reed, grabbing his own bottle of water and unscrewing the cap. “We held our questions as you requested. Probably a good idea, as a chopper isn’t all that conducive to a good discussion. Especially with your men so close by. Not that I’m suggesting they can’t be trusted,” he added.

  “Suggest away, Commander. I don’t trust anyone, so I understand the instinct. My goal is to get to a place where the three of us can trust one another.” He waved his hand. “So, by all means, ask your questions.”

  “Who are you, really?” said the commander immediately. “What u
nit are you with? How did you find us? What’s the story with the nanites? What else can they do? Why didn’t you want me to communicate with my superior until we spoke?”

  “That’s quite a list,” said Hoyer with a charming smile. “Not that I’m surprised. But don’t worry, Commander, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

  “Where have I heard that line before?” said Allie, shooting Reed a sidelong glance. “How many layers of secrecy are there with you guys?”

  Reed sighed. “At least one more than I know about,” he said. Then, turning to Hoyer he added, “But I wasn’t quite finished with my list. I didn’t get to perhaps the most important question of all. How does Allie . . . Dr. Keane fit into all this? You told me she was the key to a glorious future. One that goes far beyond quantum computers. I’d like to know what you mean by that?”

  “And you will,” said Hoyer simply. “But I need to build to it. You both already know that I’m Major Tom Hoyer.”

  “Right,” said Allie with a wry smile. “Major Tom. Shouldn’t you be calling ground control or something?”

  “Very funny,” said Hoyer. “I’ve never heard that one before. I’d like to go back in time and kill David Bowie.”

  “Sorry,” said Allie. “But you know . . . Major Tom. It’s just such an iconic lyric, it’s hard to resist. But, please, go on.”

  “I’ll do that,” said Hoyer. “Or if you prefer, ‘commencing countdown, engines on,’” he continued, raising his eyebrows. “Anyway, I was a special operator for several years with the Army Rangers. After that I transferred to a black group. One we called ET Ops.”

  Hoyer paused. “ET for extraterrestrial,” he added pointedly.

  Allie stared at the major as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “Does that mean there are aliens among us?”

  “Not exactly among us, like they’re hanging out at the mall. But the evidence of previous and current visitations has become overwhelming. I’m sure you’re familiar with run-of-the-mill government groups tasked with learning more. But these are just window dressing. The group I was with was very small, very specialized, very powerful, and very off the books. Much more so than Tech Ops. More so than the Manhattan Project, for that matter.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Even the people running it didn’t know it existed,” he added sarcastically. “That’s how secretive it was.”

  “If you’re with a group called ET Ops,” said Allie, “then the nanites must be alien technology.”

  “They are,” said Hoyer, surprising her with such a direct confirmation. “You were both already thinking along these lines, no doubt. What else could they be? This is tech thousands of years ahead of modern capabilities. So advanced that no conceivable combination of miracle breakthroughs by today’s visionary geniuses could even get us close.”

  “You’re right,” said Reed. “It was an obvious guess. It was either alien tech, or someone had invented time travel in the distant future and time-traveled the tech back to us.” His eyes narrowed. “But I noticed you used the past tense in describing ET Ops. Are you no longer with them? Or has the group disbanded?”

  “Neither. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. So let me start at the very beginning. ET Ops was very small,” he continued. “Maybe fifty members in total. But mighty. We could tap into SETI and other government and military groups monitoring space. Hell, we had access to data and intelligence from all black programs, all intel agencies, and all other clandestine groups in the country. On or off the books. We were like the subconscious mind, tapping into all data coming into the body from all senses, and being able to guide and control the brain without the brain even being aware of it. We tapped scientific know-how from other programs, including yours, Commander, and used a variety of scientists as consultants, here and abroad.”

  He paused. “But we did have a handful of scientists who were full-fledged members of the group. One of these was a quantum physicist named Bryce Aronson.”

  Allie’s eyes widened. “I know his work well,” she said. “I even attended a guest lecture he gave when I was at MIT. A brilliant man.”

  She had found Professor Aronson to be similar to herself in many respects. Thinking outside the box. Working on the fringe, and for that reason labeled brilliant but misguided. It was how her story would have turned out if she hadn’t been thrown out of MIT. “But he was tragically killed in a car accident three years ago,” she added sadly.

  Hoyer shook his head. “He was less tragically killed than you might think.”

  “What does that mean?” said Allie.

  “It means that he’s alive and well. But again, I’m getting ahead of myself.”

  Allie shook her head in disbelief. In the past few days, the surprises and twists seemed inexhaustible, coming so furiously they could have been fired from a machine gun.

  “Dr. Aronson was a key player in our group,” continued Hoyer. “An informational node. He had access to our surveillance of almost every top scientist in the world. Which mostly means your surveillance,” he added, nodding at Reed. “Tech Ops surveillance. Regardless, this gave him a huge leg up as he pursued his own work. Other scientists across the globe were more or less working in a vacuum, unaware of the most recent progress being made in every other lab. But Aronson was omniscient when it came to that. Courtesy of his position in ET Ops.”

  Hoyer rose from the chair, poured himself a glass of wine, and then sat back down, giving his guests plenty of time to ponder his words.

  “So let me cut to the chase,” he continued. “Aronson had some wild theories about faster-than-light communication using quantum entanglement. Taking advantage of the fact that two particles can become linked in such a way that they can affect each other across unlimited distance. Collapse a spinning particle here, and its partner in the Andromeda galaxy also collapses at the same instant.”

  “I’m familiar with quantum entanglement,” said Reed. “It goes without saying that Allie is also.”

  “Of course,” said Hoyer. “As you no doubt also know, Einstein was appalled by this aspect of quantum mechanics, calling it spooky action at a distance. Faster-than-light action. He maintained that this didn’t technically break his light speed barrier because no information or matter could be sent in this way. But Aronson disagreed, at least when it came to information.”

  “I’m familiar with Dr. Aronson’s ideas,” said Allie. “I knew he was working on entanglement, and making some pretty wild—but brilliant—conjectures.” She blinked her eyes in confusion. “But what does this have to do with alien nanite technology?”

  “As it turns out, everything. As he worked to perfect faster-than-light communication, he began receiving an anomalous signal. He had inadvertently created something that could detect a previously unrecognized quantum signature. The signal was emanating from the floor of an ocean shelf, two hundred feet down in the Adriatic Sea. This piqued his curiosity, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  “Being given off by the nanites, I assume,” said Allie.

  “Correct. Aronson orchestrated a secret expedition to find out what was down there, and he found a huge container of them. Enough to fill about half of an eighteen-wheeler. With the container itself also made out of nanites, of course. Here’s the problem. When I say secret expedition, I mean secret. Even from us.”

  “So you’re telling us that this Aronson went rogue,” said Reed.

  “That’s what I’m telling you, yes.”

  “Why would he do that?” asked Allie.

  “I’m sure if he didn’t find anything,” replied Hoyer, “or found something he didn’t deem all that interesting, he would have disclosed it to the team. Given what he did find, however, he kept it to himself.”

  “Again, why?” said Allie. “I never met the man, but from what I understand, he was a great guy. Ethical, charitable, a good collaborator.”

  Hoyer blew out a long breath. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, Dr. Keane, just to make an important point. I took th
e trouble to review your background. And your description of Aronson is also how most physicists describe Abraham Sena, isn’t it?”

  Allie’s jaw tightened.

  “My point is that most psychopaths don’t have fangs,” continued the major. “And don’t eat people for kicks like Hannibal Lecter. The most brilliant of them often have the best reputations. They can be charming. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. It’s what they do when no one is looking that sets them apart. And their utter lack of empathy and remorse.”

  Allie nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “After Sena, I studied up on the condition. Which you’ve clearly done also.”

  “I have,” said Hoyer.

  “If Aronson never told your group about the nanites,” asked Reed, “how did you find out about them? Also, how can you know for certain they’re alien tech? They were just sitting there, on an ocean shelf. So they could have been sent from the future, after all. That’s an insane idea, I get that, but so is the alien-tech theory.”

  “All good questions, Commander,” said Hoyer. “And I’ll get to them, I promise. But let me continue. After Aronson discovered this signal, he scheduled a two-week vacation, which we later realized he used to plan his expedition to the Adriatic. I joined the organization when he was away on this supposed vacation. ET Ops didn’t publish rosters, or make grand announcements about new hires, which were extremely infrequent. Hell, members of the group rarely even congregated in the same building. We all knew the identity of full-time ET Ops personnel off the top of our heads. The group waited to tell Aronson about the new member—me—until he was back from vacation.”