They had ended any pretense of a quick solution, or any solution at all. The dark humor had started around hour twelve. Jokes about astronaut bladder control and puking in microgravity had morphed into humor about pilots at the gates of heaven. But as the hours had passed with no radio contact and no means of affecting their situation, the conversation had faded into silence.
A loud buzzing sound burst from the speaker, shattering the silence of the cabin. Sergei’s adrenaline spiked. Anton awoke, confused. Jeremy pushed from his seat, hitting his head.
It was not static. The buzzing was more like an electronic feedback, or the vibration of a stringed instrument, a cello, perhaps. Sergei was electrified. Anything different is good.
He turned the volume up higher. The tone changed, the buzzing sound alternating between lower and higher frequencies. There were a few gaps of silence and followed by more buzzing. After another brief silence, two distinctive words formed from the buzzing sound, words that the astronauts knew well.
“Kak pashyevayesh” buzzed from the speaker.
The three men looked at each other, confused. Sergei keyed his microphone.
“Sayuz zdyehs, pozhaluysta otvechat. Soyuz here, please respond.”
He waited and then repeated his transmission. The cabin was silent, each man frozen in place.
“Let me try,” said Jeremy. He repeated the same transmission, and they waited.
“They’re not hearing us,” Anton said, with desperation in his voice. He looked over at Jeremy. “Russian controllers, do you think?”
“Not likely,” Jeremy said. “Kak pashyevayesh. Why would they ask how we’re doing? It must be someone else. Someone who found the frequency? Sergei, check the source identifier.”
Sergei flipped a switch, and a few seconds later, the main display returned to life. He touched it and Russian text appeared. “Source of last transmission is blank, no identifier. Maybe an amateur radio operator? But even that should give a source identifier of Unknown. This is just blank.”
On its own the display updated, a yellow rectangle appearing near the top along with the Russian word Soobshcheniye.
Sergei’s face contorted in disbelief. “We have a message?”
He could hardly trust his eyes. The yellow rectangle was a gift. Hope for continued life. They were not alone. His fingers fumbled, but he eventually picked the right buttons and opened the message window. The three men leaned close to the screen.
“Review and respond on 922.763. Review what?”
“It looks Arabic,” Anton said. “Could it be from an Arabic speaker? Egypt? Saudi Arabia? Do they have any space communication capability?”
“Not sure,” Jeremy answered. “But I think we ought to do what it says and respond.”
Sergei couldn’t agree more. If the message represented a lifeboat, he was ready to jump in. He switched to the frequency and started transmitting, though he was not sure what to say, and in which language.
“Sayuz zdyehs, otvet. Soyuz here, responding on 922.763.” He repeated his transmission several times, then listened. The radio was silent.
“Anyone know anything in Arabic?” His companions shook their heads.
“Allahu akbar?” offered Jeremy. Sergei shrugged. Though it made no sense, he transmitted the Arabic words, just in case. He waited, but was met only by silence.
Desperation consumed him, a drowning man in reach of a lifeline but unable to grasp it. “Blyad!” he pleaded to the radio. “I’m not asking for much. Just a response… something… anything!”
25 Confrontation
Nala drove through the streets of Aurora, following the black SUV back to Fermilab. Her doubts were growing about this plan. The man in the SUV was the security chief for Fermilab, that much was legitimate. But as a contractor, he reported not to the government, but to the executives at Stetler. It made her nervous, as if the government had already washed their hands of anything that might happen next.
Daniel had been right about taking her own car. She knew she didn’t want to be sitting next to McLellan right now. He hadn’t made a fuss about her driving separately, just as long as she stayed behind him. She thought about making a hard turn and hitting the gas. Of course, he would turn around and be on her tail within a few seconds, and after that, things could get ugly.
Better to get this over with, she thought.
The two cars passed through the Fermilab gate and stopped at the entrance of the OTE building. As she stepped out into the lighted parking lot, she yelled to McLellan, “This is stupid. Who’s going to be here at this time of night anyway?”
“Mr. Yost is here,” McLellan replied. “I talked to him myself. He’ll have some questions for you.” He motioned for her to follow.
McLellan pressed his security ID against the door’s touchpad, and she followed into the main lobby, dark and deserted after hours. Alone with a man twice her size who had already threatened her once tonight, Nala discreetly reached into her purse and transferred a small can of pepper spray she kept for emergencies into a pocket.
They climbed the staircase to the second floor, but instead of entering the security office, they turned down the hall, toward the Stetler offices. Clearly, this was going to be Yost’s interrogation. McLellan is just a flunky rent-a-cop, serving his master.
They entered the lobby, dark except for accent lighting around the reception desk. As they passed her workspace, she thought about any personal belongings that might be in her desk. A Christmas card from a friend, a romance novel she read at lunch. Maybe more; she couldn’t exactly remember. They’ve probably already looked, anyway.
McLellan opened the door to Yost’s office, and she walked in behind him. Yost sat at his desk in jeans and a t-shirt.
“Shawn!” she shouted as if they were best friends. “Working late tonight? I bet you’re getting a lot done. Really good stuff for our partners at Fermilab.” She sat in a guest chair, and McLellan leaned against the window, crossing his arms.
“Cheerful to the end,” Yost replied. “Your sparkling personality won’t help you this time.”
“Never hurts to be positive.” She flashed her teeth. “Or cheeky.”
He lifted a printed sheet from his desk and looked it over. “It’s a shame you ignored my instructions and disregarded our security protocols. I have information here that you’ve been providing details of classified information to persons outside of the program. A clear violation of your security clearance.”
Nala adjusted her stare to match her opinion of Yost. “Prove it.”
Yost ignored the challenge and slapped the paper. “As if that weren’t enough, according to our email admin, you’ve been doing personal business on company time. Another violation of company policy. The juicy photos you send to people—really, Nala.”
She slid to the edge of the chair. “You are a piece of work, Shawn, a real slime bag. I bet you enjoyed looking through my email.”
“I don’t know. It might be you who has the morality problem.” He opened his desk drawer and withdrew a photograph. Nala and another woman were dressed as biker chicks with head bandanas, assorted piercings and fake tattoos.
“You piece of shit, that’s personal property.” She lunged for the photo, but Yost pulled it back and McLellan started forward to restrain her. “No longer,” Yost said and put the picture away in his desk drawer. “Your employment agreement notes that all materials within Stetler offices belong to the company.” McLellan stood next to her. His bulk was threatening and he stared straight down at her.
Nala rose from the chair and glared at McLellan, who was still more than a foot above her. “Back off. And stop looking down my top, pervert.” She stood her ground until McLellan stepped back to the window and refolded his arms.
Standing tall, she turned to Yost and unleashed. “I’ve had all I’m going to take from you. I’ve had enough of this constant intimidation and harassment. Enough of your so-called security. Convenient for hiding your corrupt business practices, i
sn’t it, Shawn? I am sick and tired of every detail of my personal life available for your inspection. Jesus Christ, I can’t even dress up for Halloween. What did you think you were going to do with that picture, extortion? What is wrong with you people?”
Yost’s body language remained businesslike, but the smirk on his face betrayed a sickness within. “Nala, your employment is terminated, effective immediately. Human Resources will be sending a letter to this effect with additional information closing out payroll and benefits. And we’ll need your badge.” He held out his hand.
She hesitated and McLellan stepped forward. “Or we can search you for it.” She reached into her purse and laid the badge on the table.
Yost put the badge in his drawer and held out a single piece of paper. “We will also be forwarding the information in this letter to the director of Fermilab and to the Department of Energy. They will decide how to handle the disclosure of classified information.”
Nala took the letter. She thought about tearing it up, but decided it might be useful to the lawyers that Daniel had promised. “The government will be on my side. You know there’s a federal investigation coming your way. They’re going to take you apart.” She hoped her statement was true.
Yost grinned as if he owned the world. “Nala, it doesn’t work that way. Don’t count on Rice or anyone else from the government to help you. We didn’t classify the program, the government did, and they aggressively prosecute leaks. It doesn’t matter why the program was classified or what information was leaked. Hell, it doesn’t even matter who it was leaked to. For people at your level, the government always prosecutes. It’s a way to maintain power.”
Hearing his words produced a sick feeling deep inside. She had no way of knowing if what he said was true, but it sounded like it might be.
“I should also warn you,” Yost continued, “that any disclosure of Stetler proprietary information, such as authorized company plans to make use of Diastasi technology, or any libelous statements you make against Stetler Corporation, will most definitely result in an expensive lawsuit against you. And I want to make sure you understand… we never lose.”
Nala thought about the work that she had done over the past year. The science was groundbreaking. The team had accomplished so much and she had been a major contributor. Yet here she was, standing in front of a corporate suit who couldn’t see past the edge of his desk.
“You don’t have a fucking clue what this is about, do you, Shawn? This program, this science, the discoveries we’ve made. Dozens of smart people are exploring the deepest recesses of the natural world, uncovering fundamental truths about the structure of the universe. And all you and Terry Stetler can think about is how to make money from it.”
“You didn’t seem to mind taking a paycheck.”
“Never mind.” She looked to the floor and shook her head. “The intellectual capacity just isn’t there. I’d have better success explaining it to a dog.”
She turned to leave, and McLellan blocked her exit. She looked up at the huge man and back at Yost. “Is your jerkwad goon going to rough me up?”
McLellan put his hands on his hips, which made him look even bigger. “You have a nasty mouth, little girl. Learn to control it or you might get hurt.”
Yost motioned to McLellan. “Make sure she leaves the property.”
Nala stepped past him and started down the hallway. McLellan was agitated as she walked past him. “You sure you want to let her go? I can get the sheriff’s department to put her in a cell.”
Nala never heard Yost’s response; she was already halfway to the stairs. She took the stairs two at a time, hearing McLellan somewhere behind her. Don’t look back, just get to the car and get out of here, she thought. But she kept a hand on the pepper spray in her pocket, just in case.
26 Distress
The oxygen and carbon dioxide numbers on the Soyuz display panel were still moving in the wrong direction. Sergei hadn’t expected anything different.
His thoughts wandered to topics both deep and simple. The brevity of life. Last summer at the lake house. The last time he spoke to his father. The permanence of death.
The display updated. Oxygen ticked a percentage point lower and carbon dioxide ticked higher. He wondered if a supernatural being might have the grace to materialize and cause the numbers to reverse course. Now would be a very good time to intervene.
God, he thought, what a useless concept.
Common wisdom among the faithful is that people who lack faith begin to question their choice when facing imminent death. Sergei was proving them wrong. All-knowing, all-powerful, and benevolent? Then where is he? Of the three characteristics commonly assigned to gods, at least one was clearly mistaken.
Sergei glanced at Jeremy sitting next to him, motionless. He could make out a rhythmic tremble over the carotid artery. A pulse was a good thing to have. He couldn’t see Anton and didn’t have the energy to reach around and touch him. Perhaps Anton had been the first to go.
There was little to do but wait. It had been more than thirty minutes since the buzzing sound had burst from their radio, followed by the cryptic text message. They had responded, just as the message had asked. Multiple times. He was reasonably sure the radio was still working, but entirely frustrated that it remained silent.
He pulled his extension rod from its holster, a simple tool designed to press buttons on the panel while strapped into the seat, or in Sergei’s case, when the body was too weak to move. One more radio check, he thought.
He reached out with the rod but was interrupted by a flash of blue and a loud pop that shattered the silence of the cabin. Sergei jerked reflexively. Jeremy opened his eyes.
Hovering in the air, three feet in front of them, a shiny metal oval hung motionless. It resembled a silver serving tray, but split down the middle with a curving line like an Asian yin-yang symbol. To the left of the curve were two lights, one green and one yellow, and a silver panel. To the right was a circular hole.
Sergei’s mouth hung open. “What the hell?” He dropped the rod and reached out with his hand, trying to touch the device, which floated just out of reach. His brain was fuzzy, his body tired, and his arm moved slowly, but the thing floating in front of him seemed to beckon. Am I dying? Is this part of dying?
Confusion overwhelmed him. He wasn’t sure if what he saw was even real. But if it was a figment, Jeremy saw it too, his arm also reaching out.
A piercing whistle burst from the device, its shrill pitch escalating and then ending with a loud pop. The yellow light flashed, shockingly bright and instantly illuminating the cabin as if the sun itself had exploded into their small space.
The light was intense enough to blind a person, but they didn’t flinch. Their eyelids didn’t even close. Locked open, their eyes stared straight ahead, their faces frozen in an expression of surprise, their arms motionless, still reaching out to the floating device.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nothing in the cabin moved. The extension rod hung immobile in midair. A drop of sweat. A small thread. A speck of dust. All the things that drift naturally in a weightless environment were now fixed in place. Even the molecules of oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide that were, a moment before, being sucked into Sergei’s mouth were now motionless, as if momentum itself had been erased.
An eternity passed. Or maybe it was a second.
The yellow light on the device blinked off. Its green light turned on, projecting a narrow beam like a laser pointer. The silver panel opened and a slender metallic projection extended. As it grew in length, the metal narrowed in width, becoming a sharp needle at the tip.
Without sound, the device pivoted. The green laser beam swept across the cabin and stopped directly in the center of Sergei’s forehead, imprinting a green dot on his skin. The device moved closer, the long needle poised.
It stopped directly in front of Sergei’s face, and the needle extended still further, piercing Sergei’s forehead. There was no cry. He ma
de no motion, and his expression remained unchanged.
The needle retracted from his forehead. A drop of blood released from its end and drifted weightlessly in front of Sergei’s face, the only other bit of mass still in motion.
The needle retracted back into the device. A moment later, the slender projection reappeared, extending outward. The device slowly turned, and the green dot came to rest on Jeremy’s forehead.
The process repeated with Jeremy and then Anton. When it was complete, the device returned to the center of the cabin. A spot of blood stood out on each man’s forehead, but otherwise their bodies remained frozen in their seats.
The yellow light blinked on once more, and along with it, the piercing high pitch resumed. A second intense flash filled the cabin, and when the brightness dissipated, all three men had vanished.
27 Shards
Daniel opened the door of his hotel room and dropped McLellan’s envelope on the bed. With bleary eyes, he read the clock on the nightstand: 2:30 a.m. The need for sleep was strong, but other concerns kept him moving.
His doubts about a successful outcome had grown, with Soyuz now past the twenty-five-hour mark. On the plus side, the sand in the hourglass hadn’t run out yet, and he had finally learned who was to blame. On the minus side, the culprits were likely ten thousand miles away in China, and he still had no solution that kept the astronauts alive. If Nala was right, a solution was not even possible.
But what about Wah Xiang? Was this Chinese company really responsible for Soyuz? The Kwajalein report was a perfect match to Nala’s disclosure of a plan to target orbital debris. But didn’t that point the finger at Stetler? On the other hand, he had found no evidence that Fermilab had long-range capability, and Nala believed the Chinese did. She also knew how the control software worked—she had written it—and she believed her computer had been hacked. He would need to call in the electronic forensics team for that part of the investigation.
Quantum Space: Book One in the Quantum Series Page 14