“And?”
“And what, sir? Didn’t you catch it?”
“Catch what? I didn’t notice anything.”
“Sir,” Mercury began and restarted the video, moving his cursor in a circle on the monitor, “keep your eyes on the last stack to the right. So Hades Thirteen turns to his side … cameras come on, and … stop.”
Mercury paused the digital video and pointed at the screen.
“See? He’s gone. At some point, between 11:19 and 12:02, Armada disappeared.”
“What…?” Garret grumbled. “Show me both clips, back to back.”
Zeus and Perseus put their investigations on hold as they focused on Mercury’s discovery. Mercury brought the two video segments to the main monitor screen and placed them side by side. He played them several times for Garret and his brothers.
“All right, I’ve seen enough.”
Garret silently peered out at the stars for a moment, then addressed his assistants.
“Thanks to Mercury, we now know that Armada managed to leave his dormitory, undetected, between 11:19 and just after midnight. So … what we now need to figure out is … where did he run off to? I wanna see all recordings, for every camera, from eleven o’clock to twelve fifteen, PRONTO.”
Garret reached out for his headset floating next to him and reconnected it to the transmitter that hung from his belt. As he watched the video monitors, one question kept running through his mind: How? How could Armada elude the retinal scanners when entering or exiting a room? How was he able to avoid detection by the video camera motion sensors? How did he manage to gain entrance to the EVA deck and activate the air locks without an authorization code?
Reluctantly, the burly supervisor surrendered himself to the Engenechem safety protocols and entered the extension number for Riggs Woodburn on his cordless transmitter.
“Woodburn,” Riggs said, drolly.
“Riggs? This is Garret. Have you got a minute?”
“A minute? Sure. What’s up?”
“I … I got a situation … we … we got a situation on our hands that’s giving me….”
“What’s the problem, Garret?”
“Somebody’s missing … and we can’t seem to locate them.”
“Missing?” Riggs repeated, sitting back in his chair. “Who’s missing?”
“Armada Nine,” Garret sheepishly replied.
“Armada?! Armada Nine? How did you…? Armada Nine? Really?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you conducted a full sweep?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you attempt to contact him? What about the EVA transponder?”
“Yes, sir, we attempted both verbal communication and location positioning via the transponder, but failed to make contact.”
“Did anyone observe an emergency strobe?”
“No, sir.”
“What about POG verification? Did you ensure all comm-links are correctly paired? Maybe there’s a digital anomaly.”
“Yes, sir, we did a hard shutdown cycle on all four generators, but he didn’t register during the reboot. And we didn’t show any anomalies.”
“What about ‘WATCHER’? Did you track his chip?”
“Uh….”
“Have you not been given access to the chip tracking program?”
“No, sir. I knew they had them, but I was never….”
“All right, all right,” Riggs repeated, spinning around in his chair to face his computer. “I’ll see to it you get clearance, but for now I’ll take a look.”
Garret waited for Riggs to open the RFID chip tracking program and report his findings. The trio in front of him had already identified and isolated several video and audio files for the time period he’d requested.
“Okay…,” Riggs suddenly stated, “Evan … Armada … Nine. Let’s just take a peek at where Mr. Sneaky Pants has gotten off to. Here we go. Ready?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Armada went to his dormitory sleeping quarters at, oh, somewhere between 9:30 and 9:45. It looks like he was in his room at 9:45, 10:00, 10:15 … up to 11:15. At 11:30 a.m. he was in Corridor One, between the cafeteria and Dormitory D. At 11:45 he….”
“Hold on, Riggs,” Garret interrupted. “Y’all listen up … stop what you’re doing and pull the video records for these zones as I call them out. Okay, Riggs, tell me again where he was at 11:30?”
“Corridor One, between Dormitory D and the cafeteria.”
“Eleven thirty, Corridor One, from Dormitory D to the cafeteria,” Garret repeated loudly.
“At 11:45 Armada was in the Arena and remained there up ‘til 3:45.”
“Arena One, 11:45 to 3:45.”
“At 4:00 he was back in Corridor One, between Dormitory A and the shower station.”
“Four a.m., Corridor One from Dormitory A to the showers. Perseus, go to the Arena kiosk and review the user history. I wanna know what all he was doing for four hours.”
Perseus quickly unbuckled his seat harness, disconnected his headset, and jettisoned himself from the Nest into Corridor One.
“All right, moving on,” Riggs announced. “Four fifteen, Armada was….”
“Was where?” Garret anxiously inquired. “Where does it show he went?”
“I don’t know if this is accurate, but it shows him out with the SPUDs.”
“I want all HALO camera records,” Garret snapped.
Zeus and Mercury turned to briefly face each other before taking a quick glance back at Garret.
“Don’t be looking at me; do your job!”
“Garret, HALO cameras and all video feeds can only be accessed by me, the Aerie deck officers, and CARBEL deployment supervisors. I’ll review them myself and let you … wait a minute … something’s not…,” Riggs voice tapered off, as if he were suddenly distracted.
“What? Something’s not what?”
“WATCHER shows Armada in Corridor One at 4:00 a.m., he was with the SPUDs at 4:15, and at 5:15 he was on the Aerie. Geez! This can’t possibly be right! At 5:30 he entered the SUBOS, and at 5:45 he was on Sixteen M.”
“What?” Garret hollered, staring wide-eyed at Mercury and Zeus. “Repeat that last statement.”
“The WATCHER scan shows Armada entered the SUBOS at 5:30, and on Sixteen M … at 5:45.”
“That’s impossible!” Garret again shouted. “Those personnel elevators cannot descend almost a mile in less than fifteen minutes. The retarders would have engaged and slowed ‘em down.”
“Hey, I’m just telling you what the program reported. I know the elevators weren’t meant to descend at that speed.”
“Okay, so where is he now?” Garret asked. “It’s almost 9:00. Where’s he been for the past three hours?”
Garret waited for Riggs to answer his question but received no answer. Mercury and Zeus again twisted around towards Garret.
“Riggs? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. But … according to the scan, as of 6:00 a.m. … Armada doesn’t appear to be … anywhere.”
“What do you mean by ‘anywhere’?”
“By anywhere, I mean his RFID chip isn’t registering a physical location … it’s like he just disappeared.”
As Riggs was finishing his explanation, Perseus called out to Mercury over the kiosk microphone. “Merc, open a live feed to Arena camera 0509.”
“Hold on, Riggs, I’m putting you on broadcast,” Garret stated. “Riggs, are you there?”
“Yes.”
Zeus tapped into camera 0509 and brought the live stream onto the large monitor screen. Perseus had his face directly in front of the camera lens.
“Perseus, can you hear me?” Garret hollered.
“Yes, sir. I have you patched through the kiosk terminal speaker.”
“Good. I have both you and Riggs Woodburn on broadcast here in the Nest. Now, what all did you find?”
Perseus pushed himself back and away from the camera and grasped the edge of the kiosk top.
>
“Okay, I logged onto the terminal and went through the user history.”
As he spoke, Perseus would occasionally glance up at the video camera.
“There hasn’t really been much activity. Until, that is, I discovered that almost every night, right around midnight or so … someone has been logging on and staying on ‘til 3:00 or 4:00 a.m.”
“What are they doing? Who’s logging on? Is it Armada?” Garret inquired.
“Well, it’s weird … and I don’t know if this is right, but … this terminal shows that Dr. White has been using it.”
“What?” Garret shouted.
“That’s what the history says … it’s Dr. White’s credentials.”
“Perseus?” Riggs hollered out.
“Yes, sir?”
“I want you to go back one day at a time and tell me the times when Doc White was logged on. I’ll compare those days and times with the scan and Armada’s movements. Zeus? You and Mercury pull up camera video records for Armada’s dorm at the same time. We’ll go back one day at a time, every day, whether or not the Arena kiosk terminal shows anyone has logged on.”
The five men spent several hours reviewing taped footage of Armada’s dorm and the Arena, cross comparing those video clips with the dates that Dr. White was supposedly logged onto the kiosk terminal to see if those dates matched up with the records of Armada’s movement in the WATCHER scan.
At around two o’clock, Riggs gave his summary on their findings.
“I’ve come to the conclusion that Dr. White wasn’t really remotely logging on to the Arena server. That was all Armada. Second, the scan on his chip, coupled with the video records for his dorm, line up perfectly with dates and times he was in the arena, AND they match on the nights he didn’t leave the room.”
“I agree with you on those aspects,” Garret commented, “but, that doesn’t answer the questions: Where is he now? Why isn’t WATCHER picking him up anymore? How did he gain access to the Aerie, the SUBOS, and the Nursery on Sixteen M without any zone authorization codes, AND bypass every retinal scanner? Why do the motion sensors not appear to function properly whenever he’s in the Arena?”
“Garret, I don’t know!” Riggs barked. “I don’t know. We’ll … we’ll just have to figure it out. But for now … we gotta call Wyczthack and White.”
“I’m outta here,” Perseus commented, and powered down the kiosk terminal.
“Crap!” Garret hissed, vigorously scratching his head with both hands. “Crap! Crap! Crap!”
Zeus and Mercury stared straight ahead at their monitors, pretending to be working and oblivious of Garret’s comments.
“Sorry, chief,” Riggs offered, “but we gotta follow protocols.”
“I know. Wyczthack’s gonna flip, and then they’re gonna kill me.”
Riggs called Dr. White’s extension.
Garret put his headset on and disconnected the broadcast conversation. Perseus entered the Nest and made a beeline for his seat without so much as one word, or look, in Garret’s direction.
Just as Perseus was situated at his chair, Garret felt a vibration coming from his transmitter. Pressing the blinking light, he was instantly connected to Riggs and Dr. White.
“Garret Brock,” he said, as jovial as could be.
“Garret, I got Dr. White on the line.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mr. Brock, Riggs tells me that the two of you have a peculiar….”
Dr. White stopped in midsentence at the sound of a knock on his door.
“Excuse me, gentlemen…. Yes? … Oh, do come in. You’re right on time. I have both Mr. Woodburn and Mr. Brock on the line. Something about a peculiar situation.”
“This is Dr. Wyczthack speaking. Why, pray tell, do you consider your situation to be peculiar?”
Garret and Riggs winced in mental preparation for the verbal assault they were about to receive.
“Hello? Is anyone there? Or is this simply a waste of my precious time?”
“No, no!” Riggs exclaimed. “No, sir, this will, uh … definitely not be a waste of your time.”
Garret started with the encounter he and Euclid had earlier that morning, and Riggs jumped in with his involvement that began at 9:00 a.m. At first, doctors Wyczthack and White didn’t sound concerned at all that Armada was missing. However, as the conversation progressed, both men stood, removed their coats and ties, and paced about as they shouted out their questions.
During the conference call, Riggs and Garret heard another knock at the door to Dr. White’s office.
“Not now!” Dr. White gruffly roared. “Riggs, I don’t care if you….”
The person on the other side of the door dared to defy Dr. White and not only knocked again, loudly, but opened the door.
“What do you not understand about ‘Not now’?” Cain shrieked.
“Sir?” Cassandra Hall called, poking her head around the door. “I’m so terribly sorry for intruding, but we have an emergency that’s really quite extraordinary.”
“We’re in the process of diffusing our own emergency!” Cain shouted as Cassandra entered the office.
The handsomely dressed woman, who happened to oversee Curriculum Development for the female clones in the Nursery, was more than persistent and shut the door behind her. “Yes, sir, but, you see … one of our clones….”
“Thank you, Cassandra, but we’ve already been made aware of the predicament and are attempting to resolve the problem as we speak. So, if you’ll please…,” Dr. White added.
“How did you know she’s missing?” the woman confusedly asked. “We just figured out ourselves she’s gone!”
Cain and Dr. White blankly and silently stared at the woman for a moment.
Dr. Wyczthack closed his eyes and barked “She!?”
CHAPTER 24
DRINKING BUDDIES
“I’m hungry,” Chloe stated. “Are you?”
“I’m getting there,” Armada replied.
“Do you think they’ve discovered we’re missing yet?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely! For me, I’d say Garret knew something was up at around 7:30 or so. He probably freaked out and asked Riggs for help in locating me. What about you? When do you think they realized you were MIA?”
“Well,” Chloe began, leaning back in her chair. “If it was Ashlynn, she would have noticed me not being at my station by at least 8:00, if not soon thereafter. We have very small windows of time to ascend to Eden from the CARBEL. Once we reach the Halo, every transition is monitored until each of us has registered our boarding authorization codes and logged into our designated stations. Since I wasn’t on the Aerie for loading on the CARBEL, I wouldn’t show up then as a worker that wasn’t accounted for. But if it was Cassie, she wouldn’t know until late this morning, like at 10:00 or 10:30.”
She sat at the table for four, in the far corner of the suite, next to a low standing chest of drawers. Armada lay on his left side on the bed, leaning on his elbow.
Although they had been communicating with each other for well over five years, their sudden change in physical proximity was not at all an easy and smooth transition.
“So…,” Chloe said, allowing the word to linger, “what now?”
She wobbled back and forth, tipping her chair. Armada rolled onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling.
“Well?” he stated, “I suppose we could go to the kitchen area and see what we can rustle up for dinner? Maybe take another look around the atrium … we didn’t check it out entirely. Besides, you’re out of crackers and I’m in the mood for something more substantial than water.”
Armada rolled to the foot of the bed and sprang to his feet.
“C’mon!” he enthusiastically demanded, reaching out to Chloe, “let’s have an adventure! Whadyasay?”
Chloe smirked at the boyish, comical comment, and begrudgingly took his hand.
“When are we gonna be there? When are we gonna be there?” she jokingly pestered, tapping him repeated
ly.
Even as he stepped toward the door, Chloe continued to pepper her beaux, “Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”
Armada flung open the door and darted down the hallway, laughing out loud as he ran. Chloe tore after him, hollering her agitating questions, “But when are we gonna be there? How much longer? I’m hungry! I’m hungry!”
Once they entered the spacious atrium, Armada quickly reversed his tactics and began chasing Chloe. She squealed in delightful joy upon realizing that he was now after her. She led him through the front of the kitchen, out into the area with stacked boxes of chairs and tables, and finally came to rest in what appeared to be a cocktail lounge.
The breathless couple strode by a grand piano, elegant coffee tables, ornate candelabras, handsome leather couches, armchairs and love seats, and a beautiful selection of chaise lounges. Armada broke away from Chloe as she sat on and appreciated the different choices of luxurious furniture.
“Hey, Chloe!” he shouted, leaning over a long black-and-silver granite countertop. “Have I got something to show you!”
Chloe took her time and made sure to look over each piece of furniture before responding to Armada.
“Hold on, I’m coming,” she repeatedly answered with each call of her name.
“Finally!” he declared as she entered a room that was cordoned off by a wrought iron gate, “Where’ve you been?”
“I was just looking at some chairs,” Chloe nonchalantly replied, spinning in a slow circle. “What is this place?”
“It appears to me that we’ve stumbled upon … a bar.”
They passed cases of bourbon, vodka, Scotch, gin, tequila, rum, and exotic distilled spirits from around the world. Hundreds upon hundreds of boxes were palletized, shrink-wrapped, and loaded onto heavy-duty, industrial-grade shelving units, similar to those they found earlier in the kitchen. Row after row, the selection and volume of alcohol on hand boggled their minds.
“What’s Frangelico?” Chloe asked as she pulled away the plastic wrap from one of the pallets, “And Midori? And Tuaca? And … Rumplemintz?”
“Rumple what?” Armada inquired, laughingly, investigating the outer label of the box, “Peppermint schnapps.”
“What’s schnapps?”
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