Time Crossers 01: The Final Six Days

by Agster, Joe

  Friend leaves to teleport the rest of the goons from the asteroid, bringing them back two or three at a time, placing them in a hidden area near the holding cells. Stewart continues holding his gun to Prast. Prast looks around in disappointment, his glorious bunker now a decrepit shell of what it could have been. Twenty years of planning, all fallen apart.

  The Chinese police commander comes into view to greet Stewart. He speaks to Cassie, intensely articulating their latest update. 「我们正在寻找的设备。」

  “He said that they are searching for the detonator now.”

  Prast has concluded he is out of options. Foenix is dead, the Chinese have taken over his bunker, other members of the Society are hiding or have been captured, and his grand plan of ushering a new era of human civilization is all but destroyed. He will be held in a maximum security facility for sure, living his days out like a mere criminal. He knows where the detonator is, and he figures the only thing he can do now is hatch a bold plan, using it as leverage.

  “Wait, wait,” Prast declares, “You want the detonator, yes? Well I want freedom.”

  “That’s out of the question,” Stewart barks. “You destroyed the console.”

  Cassie chimes in. “I think I can still detonate it. I just need the box.”

  “How?” Stewart wonders.

  “Through my device. If the console is still operable, I can remote into it.” Cassie responds, holding up her large black round device, to Friend’s relief.

  “So Prast, what is it you want?” Stewart demands.

  “There is a tiny island in the South Pacific, called Fanga Island. It’s 200 kilometers off the coast of Fiji. In exchange for the detonator I want to live the rest of my days there, peacefully and undisturbed.”

  Stewart remains silent, unsure of how his superiors would treat this scenario. As he contemplates the idea, he infers there is little downside, unless of course he tries to escape. That can be mitigated however through continuous surveillance of the island. He has enough pull with the bureau and the president to make this work.

  “Where is the detonator?”

  “Not so fast. I need your word. In all my life when I give my word, it is solid. I ask you for your word now, Special Agent Stewart. Everyone is getting what they want.”

  “Okay. You have my word,” Stewart relents.

  “Now take me there and I’ll reveal the detonator to you.”

  “There is one problem,” Friend says. “I’ve never been there.”

  This teleportation limitation is such an obstacle. If Friend had time he would visit every location on Earth, and as he stands so close to the end, to a final victory over this daunting asteroid, this revelation cannot come at a worse time.

  Prast retorts, “Foenix has, many times. He was able to take us to the asteroid, simply because you’ve been there. I’m sure you have the same power.”

  Friend ponders the possibility. He is right, this is how is able to wind up places that Friend has been to. He stills his mind for the moment, digging deep inside for a morsel of assurance from himself. If he can just visualize the place, they can go. The key is to tap into the mind of Foenix. He closes his eyes and meditates with fervent focus, searching his mind. He breaths and breaths, clearing his mind until he can visualize it. Eventually he sees an island, brown buildings, a field of grass cut in various lengths to make shapes, irregular oblong shapes. The ocean is in all direction, a storm approaches in the far distance.

  “Grab hold!” Friend commands, as they all touch him before disappearing.

  They arrive at the place he just saw in his mind, a cool breeze greeting them. It worked! He cannot believe his eyes. The sun is almost ready to set in the western sky, providing the fading daylight to see it. The blue lagoon all around, the white and sandstone building, the rotunda, the shaped fields that are used for the sport of golf, all exactly as he visualized it.

  “Okay Prast, so where is it?” Stewart reiterates his question from before.

  Prast stays silent, trudging toward the main building. He was right, they haven’t kept this place up in a while. It appears to be an abandoned resort, remote and difficult to access. Toward the island center sits the white building, a clubhouse of sorts. As they make their way inside, they see a light brown interior with wicker furniture, covered somewhat in spider webs. Off toward the back is a bar, also filled with dust and mold, appearing unkept for a long time.

  Prast opens the refrigerator door underneath the bar, sifting through for a moment, before emerging with it. It is black box with silver siding. On its top is a digital port, with several on the bottom. A small Space Onyx logo affixed toward the bottom side. They all look in awe at it. At long last… the detonator.

  “Remember our deal, Stewart.”

  “If the asteroid is destroyed, then our deal is in effect. You may have your exile here. No one will be allowed to give you any kind of aid. You will be allowed no visitors. You are not allowed to leave. You will die on this island. Understood? Otherwise I will return and move you to a maximum facility,” Stewart steadfastly declares. Prast looks on as the three of them converge, with Cassie holding the box

  Just as they disappear, Prast replies, “Yes, Stewart, I do.”

  20:44

  Icedragon Command Center

  Cassie forcefully pushes aside all the shards of glass with her feet, clearing a path to the console. She sets the detonator into its designated slot on the damaged and barely functional command center console, watching as the three lime green diodes on its top suddenly light up. She crinkles her forehead in deep thought, looking where to start first. She reminds herself that she had been training for this moment, that the visit by Friend when she was young spurred her hobby in device electronics. Friend has observed this in all of her incarnations, but in this one she has especially propelled herself to a new level to become an expert.

  She places her device on the console, activating its hologram mode so her screen is projected above for all to see. She whizzes through her screens; her first step is attempting to connect to the console via its wireless network. After connecting she runs a port scan to find which ports are open on the console, in order to figure out how to interface with it. The console remains badly damaged, the multitude of electrical burns on its metallic and plastic body gives off an acrid smell.

  “Wow, port 80. This thing has a web interface. See I told you guys.” She exhales as she pulls up the console screen on her device, projected as a hologram.

  She continues to navigate through various screens, becoming increasingly agitated as Friend and Stewart become anxious. This alternate interface takes some getting used to. “Except… I can’t find the menu for the detonator.”

  “What do you mean? This wasn’t a problem before,” Friend exclaims. His concerns are largely ignored as she types away, until she finally comes to the same screen as before, diagramming the status of all the nuclear devices. It is the same as before: 112 devices in total, with three offline.

  Stewart comments as he studies the diagram, “Looking at this diagram… these warheads are strategically placed. They planned for this by building in some redundancy.”

  The three of them briefly stare to confirm his comments, before Cassie proceeds by hitting the red button to enter the detonation screens. A large prompt then fills the center of the hologram display. She sighs as she stares at the screen, agitated that what she sees blocks her progress.

  “Damn. We need the PIN.” She gives Friend an impatient stare, and by his confused look she already knows the answer to the question she was about to ask. Len Wang never told him about a PIN either.

  “This could be a million combinations,” she frets as Friend and Stewart look on patiently. She takes a moment to collect herself, as the others also look discouraged as they read her body language.

  She is stumped. Minutes go by as she rues at the setback, holding her head with her palms, as they become lathered by nervous sweat. “Friend, I’m sorry. You’re going
to need to find Len Wang.”

  The way he sees it though, if he didn’t tell him about this PIN, he probably doesn’t know about it. He believes in complete totality that their meeting was fate, and that Wang told him exactly what he needed to know, nothing more. He believes that in this very moment, Cassie, with in all her intellect and preparation, has it in her to activate this failsafe system.

  “Cassie, listen. There has to be another way. You can do it. Think.” Friend encourages her, impelling her into believing in herself. She is sitting on the ground, her head clamped between her knees as she continues to sulk.

  Suddenly, a light bulb goes on in her head. “What if we can somehow hack into it… interface with the detonator directly? It must have an access port, or a network connection of some kind. It just seems illogical that the only way to talk to it would be through the console.”

  She scans the sides and top of the detonator box with her eyes, studying its black metallic sides looking for any clues. On a hunch she opens an application on her device. She feverishly punches through the screens on her display.

  “Bingo! It seems it does have a Bluetooth serial port profile for which to connect to it.”

  The elation is short lived, as she is connected but cannot find a way to interface with it. Friend continues to watch her work, studying her muscle movement in her facial expressions to read the progress she is making. She continues to poke along with her device with increasing irritation, crinkling her head ever more severely.

  “Wait! I’ve got it.” She cries out. She opens a different application altogether, and types the address, referring to port 502. Suddenly, the application illumines a diagrammatic view of the detonator and all the warheads that it controls. Finally, they are in.

  “YES!” She shouts! “Modbus is an extremely old protocol. This stuff was invented before my grandma was born. But I can talk to it with this HMI application.”

  Friend stares at the newly illuminated diagram flowing outward from her device screen. It is much more primitive and crude than the one from the console UI, being more cryptic and symbolic in how it is laid out. “What are those strange markings? Is that an alternate writing system?”

  “Shit… no. It’s in Russian.” Cassie gasps, almost humorously at the latest snag.

  “Figures,” Stewart laughs in kind. “Where else are they going to get all of these nuclear warheads in secret? Definitely not at a Walmart in China.”

  Within her HMI application, Cassie opens the command line. It takes her about thirty seconds to figure out to change the language to English. She then assesses the screen again, the state of the entire failsafe system in view. She studies the various command line options, working her way through the readout that lists the detonation command. Moments of silence transpire before her face turns sour and defeated.

  “This is a problem… Friend you need to listen to me,” she cries. He caresses her arm, not saying a word as her frightened eyes are doing the talking. “There is only one command here, set-charge. But there is no documentation here of any kind to indicate how to set the timer.”

  Stewart is gripped with concern. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning the thing will blow the instance we submit the command with the detonation code. We all die, but I guess we save the planet in the process.”

  “Wait,” Friend urges. “We can teleport just as you enter the command.”

  “Friend, you’re talking about advanced thermonuclear devices, some buried about 20 meters beneath us. They will deploy within millionths of a second. I know you can manipulate time, but not to that scale.”

  This can’t be. This is not how he foresaw this. Friend fills his lungs with the stale, pressurized air as he contemplates his next move. If they die, Foenix will surely move the detonator to a different location. His best chance of success, he surmises, is to ally with the FBI. He needs to find a way to link with Stewart.

  “Stewart, if we die, I need to be able to contact you before your team storms my hideout. I’ll need your help locating the detonator.”

  “But we already know—” Stewart snaps as Friend interrupts.

  “No. The detonator will be moved. With Foenix’s help, Prast will surely be more prepared.”

  Cassie, meanwhile, sees it a different way. She always knew she was preparing for this moment, and not just with technical ability, but the inevitability that she may be forced to sacrifice herself. It’s not ideal, but fretting on it for years as she knew this day would come, she can’t help but be suddenly swept up in romantic notion of it all. I am saving the world!

  “Wait, guys.” Cassie steadfastly replies as she stutters her next words. “Leave me here. I will issue the command. If I die, I die.”

  Friend finds the mere insinuation that he would leave this task to her most contemptuous. She is a future leader after all, not a pawn to be sacrificed. “No way, Cassandra Whittle. I am standing here by your side. Our fates are intertwined, just as you told me once.”

  Stewart nods. A part of him also basks in the glory of the ultimate sacrifice. With him and Friend giving her the go-ahead stare, she verbally types the set-charge command into the forefront of her display. She enters the detonation code as Friend recites it from memory, vocalizing each of the fourteen letters and numbers in the sequence. She slowly puts her finger into position to tap the icon to issue its command. The weight of the moment consumes them all. As beads of sweat mixed with a couple tears roll down her cheek, she grips Friend’s hand tight with her own left hand. She closes her eyes…

  “WAIT!” Friend commands. “This is not right. You haven’t looked deep enough Cassie.”

  “We must do what we must, Friend,” Stewart urges.

  “I do not fear death. But everything I know tells me Cassie must live on.”

  While Friend and Stewart argue, Cassie looks into the command table, and discovers something startling. She relays the news. “I think there is a way to recover or reset the PIN.”

  She continues to pound away in the command line shell, furiously probing for a modicum of evidence to back up here hunch. She scans the file system of the detonator, her wondrous eyes studying the patterns of strange, cryptic files she sees. Her focus is so sharp she forgets she is not alone, as she continuously vocalizes her chaotic thoughts, “Deobfuscate… de-compile. Come on, Cassie.”

  She opens another program on her device, and at the edge of all this concerted dragging and swiping, she jumps up in exhilaration. “Ha ha… I got it. These idiots hard-coded the PIN into this registry module script. It’s right here… 60130.

  // Модуль регистрации (rev 1.3.1)

  var p_ = require("payload");

  var x_ = require("x-lsm");

  var program = require('program');

  var Globals = {};

  Globals.PIN = '60130';

  With Friend and Stewart’s eyeballs nearly popped out in both awe and joy, she opens the PIN screen once again and enters it, and through a split second interstitial, one where a sense of beastly fright has enough time to reverberate through their collective bones, a more graphically advanced interface finally emerges onto the display, one asking for the denotation code and the timer.

  They all cheer, both of them hugging and kissing Cassie as she basks in the adulation. She enters the detonation code, along with the countdown. “Fifteen minutes should do it.”

  The timer is now in full display as it begins to count down: 14:59… 14:58… 14:57. The green diodes on the top of the box suddenly turn red, pulsating very brightly once per second. They celebrate and embrace with the hug like a team scoring the winning goal.

  “Wait!” Friend calls out. “What about the gravity. Wouldn’t that work against the explosive force, pulling the fragments in?”

  Cassie looks at Friend with astonishment as he thought of something she overlooked. She gives him a quirky stare before she commands to the console, “Disable gravity.”

  They slowly feel themselves floating again, Cassie’s
device too. Its erratic positioning is messing with the holographic display and she loses it momentarily.

  They all take one look at each other, realizing that they have finally done it. Friend briefly looks down at the broken glass. He absorbs the smell of the burnt plastic once more, its putridity now cognitively associated with the destruction of this asteroid. They then join hands, and teleport away.

  35

  22:08

  Las Vegas Strip, FBI Mobile Command

  They return to the road that intersects the Strip, the one just north of the Planet Real where the FBI has taken over and shut down to traffic. The Strip appears to be open to foot traffic only, and thousands upon thousands of visitors cram the street, celebrating as they await the conclusion to a tense filled day.

  Stewart rounds up all his agents, explaining to them that the detonator has been set on the asteroid and is set to explode in under fifteen minutes. Cassie in turn shows her device and the countdown clock. They all erupt in applause. Stewarts orders his second-in-command to contact the media, before he himself contacts the president.

  It takes about thirty seconds for the news broadcasts to interrupt all the party goers, as the various holographic projectors along the strip road are airing live footage of the asteroid. A minute later the broadcasts also show the countdown clock, being synchronized somewhat to the one on Cassie’s device as observed by the agent.

  Friend and Cassie sit facing the strip from the back of the FBI van, watching the asteroid projected on live TV. Based on the Earth’s current rotation at this very moment, the position of the asteroid is straight up, coming in from the southern sky. The broadcasts show an up close view through an electronic telescope so that the whole world can see it explode. With about eleven minutes left, she still remains intently worried something might go wrong, but remains optimistic as she holds Friend close, planting a kiss on his cheek.