Quantum Space: Book One in the Quantum Series

by Douglas Phillips

  “But it’s bigger than Soyuz,” she said quietly.

  “What? There’s more?”

  “Daniel, I’ll do all I can to help you. But, honestly, the problem is bigger. Think about it. Wah Xiang didn’t intentionally target Soyuz. It would be an act of war. What’s in it for them? It’s far more likely that Soyuz was a mistake. The Chinese don’t know what they’re doing. They’ve got my software and they’re tinkering with it to expand to distances we’ve never tried. Do you see? Soyuz is a royal fuck-up.”

  “So, they’ve got technology they can’t control,” Daniel said.

  “Worse,” she said. “They’ve got massively dangerous technology that they can’t control. You have to fully understand what it means to compress space. There are stars out there, black holes, you name it—there’s dangerous stuff. If you’re ramping up the oscillation amplitude, you’d better know what you’re pointing at. You don’t want a white-hot nuclear furnace coming anywhere near you.”

  Nala looked across the bar, and Daniel turned to see what caught her attention. A large man in uniform was heading straight for their table. The badge and holstered gun made his intentions clear. At least six feet tall and built like a climbing rock, he had an intense stare—and directed it at Nala.

  “Ms. Pasquier?”

  “Go away,” she said curtly. “You have no business here.” She looked in the opposite direction.

  “You know who I am, then.” He carried a white envelope in one hand and rested the other on the top of his holster. The size of his arm alone was intimidating.

  “Mr. Rice, Chief McLellan, Fermilab security.” He tipped his head, briefly acknowledging Daniel’s presence and returned his burning stare toward Nala.

  “Ms. Pasquier, you need to come with me. We have some questions.”

  Nala looked up toward the gruff voice. “You can ask me right here.”

  “Noooo,” McLellan said with a light chuckle. “This is official Fermilab business, we don’t work in bars. We’ll need to go over to the security office.”

  “And where is that?” asked Daniel.

  “OTE Building. You can stay here, Mr. Rice.”

  “I think I’ll stay here, along with Mr. Rice,” Nala said, looking at Daniel. The men on the barstools stopped their conversation and turned around to watch the confrontation.

  McLellan moved closer to the table and lowered his voice. “Ms. Pasquier, this is not an invitation for you to accept or decline. You are employed by Stetler Corporation, and the employment agreement, which you signed, is very explicit. You are required to obey all laws of the United States and the state of Illinois, including directives related to disclosure of classified information. We have reason to believe you may have violated one or more of those laws or directives. Your employment agreement specifically says that you agree to cooperate in any investigation and that you will voluntarily submit to any government authority. And right now, that’s me.”

  Nala remained motionless as the man moved closer. “I can have you arrested and you can spend the night in jail, or you can accompany me to the security office and we’ll do this right now. But one way or another, you will be answering our questions. Am I clear on this?”

  Daniel stood, McLellan still towering above him. “Chief, that’s a load of crap and you know it. Her rights as a citizen can’t be signed away in an employment agreement. She’s been talking to me alone, I’m a federal investigator and I have full clearance.”

  McLellan pivoted. “This doesn’t concern you, Mr. Rice. Your job and your clearance level don’t matter in the least. You have a complaint? File it at the office in the morning. This is a policy enforcement matter and I suggest you stay out of it.”

  Daniel’s face hardened. He held up his hand and was about to speak, when Nala interrupted. “It’s okay, I’ll go with him. You don’t need to get involved. I’ll clear this up and contact you when I’m done.”

  Daniel leaned over the table toward her. “Nala, you don’t have to do that. He has no authority over you, and you’re not on Fermilab property.”

  She stood and McLellan took a step back. Nala positioned herself between the two men and faced Daniel. Her eyes were tired, but she managed a small tilt in her lips. “Look… Dr. Rice… Daniel.” She touched him on the shoulder. “Thank you. I appreciate your concern. But this has been coming for a long time. I might as well get it over with. It’s only a job.”

  Daniel appraised his options. She seemed resolved to deal with the conflict. He felt bad that he had been rough on her earlier, but that could change. It would change. With a few phone calls, he could bring in a squad of White House lawyers that would put McLellan in his place. But at this very moment, her best move might be cooperation. Challenging law enforcement, even a corporate cop, was tricky business. Within the legal system, he would have more leverage.

  “I’ll go with you,” Daniel stated.

  “You won’t.” McLellan was firm and intimidating. “As I said, this is a company matter.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she mouthed.

  Daniel took a deep breath. “Remember, you’re not obligated to answer any questions. You have rights that transcend your employment. Tomorrow morning, I can bring government attorneys to help protect you.”

  Nala nodded, looking down.

  Daniel glanced at the huge man and back to Nala. “Drive your own car and keep your phone by your side. You’re not being arrested, and no one can take anything away from you. Call me if you need help of any kind, I don’t care how late.”

  She reached forward and held Daniel by both arms. “Thanks. You’re a good man, Daniel Rice.” She gave a small laugh, an expression of pure fatalism. “You’ve got my number, give me a call tomorrow. I may have lots of free time.” She leaned in and whispered, “Unemployment does that.”

  She turned to McLellan and pulled her car keys out of her purse. She jingled the keys in front of him and raised her eyebrows in question.

  “That’s fine,” McLellan said. “Stay close and follow me. And, Mr. Rice, this is for you.”

  He handed over the white envelope. “What is it?” Daniel asked.

  “I was asked to give it to you, that’s all I know.”

  Nala looked at the envelope and at Daniel, and then turned to follow McLellan. As the bar door closed, Daniel reached for the car key in his pocket.

  23 Chinese

  China has a larger number of journalists in prison than any other country in the world. More than Iran, Saudi Arabia, Cuba, North Korea and Russia combined. Its censorship and control, what president Xi Jinping declared China’s “Internet sovereignty,” doesn’t just apply to web page authors; it extends even to Internet users. Simply pressing a “Sign the Petition” button, which in most parts of the world is recognized as nothing more than marketing click-bait, can, in China, land a person in prison.

  The same level of control and censorship prevails in China’s scientific community. Researchers around the world commonly use the Internet as a tool to collect information or cross-reference their work against similar studies, but in China, researchers never know which sites have been filtered from their view, potentially skewing their results.

  Science students in Chinese universities regularly plagiarize from other publications and fabricate experimental data, practices they carry with them into their work upon graduation. Students who receive degrees from American universities and return to China find that their local colleagues move ahead more quickly by publishing based on falsified or pilfered data. China pays scientific researchers based on quantity. Every new paper or patent earns more money. The validity of the results doesn’t matter in the least.

  China is the antithesis of scientific discovery. Instead of coming to evidence-based conclusions, Chinese researchers are far more likely to be influenced by the opinion of a member of the Central Committee. Government oversight committees weren’t even established until 2010, under President Hu Jintao, and much of Hu’s work to broaden participation was
reversed by his successor. Xi significantly centralized institutional power under the Central Committee, limiting oversight to whatever its members decide. This structure commonly produces what is referred to as the argument from authority, an arrogance unequivocally dismissed by scientists elsewhere in the world.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  The office building on the edge of Yanshan University in Qinhuangdao was new, a twenty-story structure built to provide office space for a long list of Chinese and international companies working at The Higgs Factory. In fact, most everything around the city of Qinhuangdao was new. “The Factory,” as it was called, was China’s recent entry into the world of particle physics. The enormous accelerator ring covered more than one hundred square miles across the countryside, and an entirely new city had sprung up out of rice paddies and former industrial sites. The main accelerator was nearly twice the size of the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva and was now regarded as the largest machine ever built by humans.

  Lao Yan sat at a circular table on the top floor of the office building. His was a modest office, particularly for a man so trusted by the Central Committee. He stroked his short white beard and shifted his position to ease some discomfort in his lower back. Across the table, Zhu Jie Ping, a much younger man, sat upright, almost at attention. A year earlier, Zhu had been named the CEO of the Wah Xiang Corporation. If Lao’s tutelage of his protégé was successful, Zhu would eventually move to a higher position, possibly even becoming Lao’s replacement. If not, Lao would remove him altogether. The Central Committee was watching.

  “Jie Ping,” Lao said. “We have a long history together and you have done well over the years.”

  “Thank you,” Zhu replied. “Your counsel continues to be my guide.”

  “Then you must take care to listen to my counsel today.” Lao leaned forward in his chair. “In your hands lies a great opportunity. New technology, an entirely new science. You have done well in acquiring it from the Americans. They are naïve and have no sense of how to lead. China will advance this technology and create a bright future for all citizens of the world. The Americans will watch our bright path, and they will wonder what happened to their own. Their lawyers will shake legal documents in the air, as though pieces of paper grant privilege over others. And as the lawyers argue, China will grasp the opportunity and move forward for the benefit of all.”

  “I am proud for my country,” responded Zhu. “I am honored to take a leading role.”

  “Jie Ping. You have done well in all that I mention. But you have also created a great trouble for us. The technology has certainly been responsible for the Russian spacecraft incident.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Be truthful, Jie Ping. Just as the unfortunate death of our colleague last month was your responsibility, you must also carry the weight of mistakes made by your team members regarding Soyuz.” Zhu shifted in his seat, his eyes downcast. “Jie Ping, China takes what it needs. China will lead the world, but China does not kill.”

  “I understand,” Zhu finally said and bowed his head.

  “You must correct your path before there are more deaths,” Lao told him. “Do this now.”

  Lao rose from his chair. Zhu stood and bowed once more.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Zhu marched down a long corridor in The Higgs Factory main building. Incompetence, he fumed. We have the most powerful accelerator in the world, and the American control software, yet this team cannot complete even the simplest of steps toward our goal.

  He recalled the demonstration a month before, with several Central Committee members in attendance. They had already proven the ability to transport electronics, weapons, even an armored tank from one place to another. The day before, they had transported a military jet more than five hundred kilometers in the blink of an eye.

  But for this demonstration, they would step to a new level. China would be the first country to create a human transporter, a device that would revolutionize travel—on Earth, but also to the stars.

  They had selected their colleague, Chen Yong Tao, to be the world’s first Katanaut. Chen was to be transported to a 4-D position hovering over Tiananmen Square, confirm his arrival by taking a photograph, and then be returned to the laboratory for the celebration.

  On the day of the demonstration, Chen arrived in a flight suit, the flag of China emblazoned across his chest. There was, of course, no need for the suit, but it provided an excellent photo opportunity with the Central Committee members.

  His departure was flawless. The return, however, was catastrophic. The pulpy mass spreading across the floor of the laboratory was not recognizably human. Red blood mixed with other fluids, white and yellow. The liquid slop was only slightly held together by rubbery bones and a few lingering patches of flesh. They wouldn’t have believed it was Chen, except for the Chinese flag perfectly intact on his flight suit, and an intriguing photograph recorded in his camera.

  Zhu remembered the day well, and the humiliation. It angered him, but at the same time it increased his determination. They would succeed, even if he had to fix the software himself.

  He opened a door marked in both Chinese and English, “担保 Secured.” A guard checked his face and badge and nodded as he passed. Zhu was agitated, his rage increasing as he made his way up a gangway and under a maze of pipes. He abruptly opened another door and walked into a room filled with computers, a worker in front of each.

  Zhu felt the heat rise into his face and he spoke loudly, almost yelling. “Supervisor!”

  A young man vaulted to the front of the room. He bowed to Zhu and held his hands at his side in attention. “Yes, CEO,” he said. “How can I help?”

  “The incompetency of this group will end today,” Zhu commanded loudly for all to hear. “The software will be revised. The Russian spacecraft will be returned to its original position. Your failure must be corrected immediately!”

  “Yes, CEO,” said the supervisor, his eyes darting around the room. “At once.”

  The command had been relayed, the hierarchy firmly maintained. Zhu expected that his demand would become the team’s entire focus, but he also understood their chance of success. They had already tried twice. The first had been a blunt attempt to exactly reverse the equipment settings from when the Soyuz spacecraft had been mistakenly caught in their neutrino beam. Naturally, their attempt had returned only empty space. Being a spacecraft in motion, Soyuz had moved on.

  In their second attempt, they had dramatically widened the beam, casting trillions of coherent neutrinos over a large sector of space with the hope of collapsing whatever 4-D space had been created. They had repeated this blast of particles every ten minutes for more than an hour, as if casting a fisherman’s net in hopes of snagging a swimming carp. They managed only to retrieve a single decommissioned satellite, which had quickly burned up on reentry.

  There were other alternatives, but they would require additional software changes and higher power from the accelerator. Zhu knew the accelerator would produce the required beam, but he was much less confident in the software that controlled it. A single miscalculation, an errant line of untested code, and the beam could easily pick up much more than just a wandering fish.

  We may catch the carp, he thought. Or just as easily destroy the boat, or the village.

  24 Message

  Inside the cramped Soyuz descent module, the electric heaters were off. The colored lights across the control panel had gone dark. Smells of human sweat filled the cold air, and microbeads of condensation covered every metal surface. The silence in the cabin echoed death.

  Sergei’s eyes fluttered open. The display directly in front of him still showed some activity, about as much as Sergei himself showed. Cabin pressure normal, oxygen at twelve percent and descending. Sergei glanced to his right and saw that Jeremy’s eyes were closed. Humans lose consciousness when oxygen gets below ten percent and die below five. But lack of oxygen was not what worried Sergei.

  The n
ext line down showed carbon dioxide at four percent and climbing. The scrubbers were saturated, and the simple act of exhaling now created a toxic environment. At this level, their blood was already acidic and its hemoglobin less able to absorb oxygen. Soon, it wouldn’t really matter how much oxygen remained. Each breath would become poisonous.

  Not much longer, he thought. A headache and we’ll just go to sleep.

  There was an alternative that didn’t require waiting for death. Flip a few switches to override the security lock and he could simply open the hatch to the vacuum of space. Quick, but not a good way to go, and Sergei had already decided he would fight if anyone panicked and reached for the hatch release. They would tough it out to the end, whenever that was.

  He reached out and pressed a button on the radio panel. A green light appeared, confirming it was still operational. They had transmitted for hours, reporting their position and status, as best they knew them. But without a single response, he had eventually stopped to save power, leaving the radio in a passive receive mode.

  It took willpower to look out the window, but he did once more. The view confirmed his fears: something was desperately wrong. The object below them barely resembled the Earth he knew.

  The flatness was jarring. Even the towering cumulonimbus clouds of the tropics seemed to lack their normal height. The disc itself constantly changed in shape, shrinking in width each time they approached. They regularly penetrated the wall of stars, rounding the edge of the blue ellipse, providing a familiar feel of orbiting. Sergei could swear that for a split second, he felt atmospheric turbulence at the exact moment they passed through to the other side.

  The disc was now near its full width, and he recognized the coastline of Ireland appearing beneath the clouds. But instead of lush green landscape, it glowed a reddish-orange. It was like peering into a pottery kiln. Everything glowed, even the ocean. The whole world seemed to burn, but without flames. Sergei couldn’t imagine how any life on Earth could withstand it. If he and his comrades were the sole survivors, it would be a temporary victory. Without rescuers, there would be no rescue.