Xn

by Clint Townsend

  “What about WATCHER?” Chloe asked. “Does his RFID chip show up?”

  “No. I can only assume he made it safely and undetected to the SPUDs and got a piece of radar fabric.”

  Chloe reached over and scratched her husband’s back. “Hey. Take a look at this. I think I found ‘em.”

  Armada rolled up beside her and watched as a three-minute video clip played.

  “What is this? What are we looking at?”

  Although the recorded footage came from a helmet camera belonging to an unidentified worker, it didn’t take long for him to correctly identify the content of the video.

  “This is the underside of Cloud One. Right there…,” he said, pausing the clip. “That’s one of six vertical ascension ports for receiving all incoming craft. Inbound vessels will make their approach and connection upside down, belly to belly, for loading and unloading of materials and personnel. Instead of having all docks sequestered on one end and one level, side by side, this method allows for independent operations to occur simultaneously. On the Arenas, we have one humongous open docking station. If we were to experience an equipment failure, a loss of power, or have an accident like the Russians did in ninety-seven on the Mir, then all docking operations could come to a screeching halt. By incorporating separate, independent stations, we increase the overall functionality of the Clouds.”

  Chloe quietly nodded her head.

  They watched the shaky film footage for a few more minutes, but saw no evidence of Euclid’s stacked tunnel sections. With less than twenty seconds remaining in the video clip, Armada stood and stretched.

  “Hold on,” Chloe said, bumping his leg with her forearm, “I just saw something.”

  Reversing the video, she paused it on one particular image and asked, “Does this look anything like what Euclid described to you?”

  Armada leaned on the table with his elbows and stared at the paused black-and-white image “Can you magnify that?”

  Chloe expanded and zoomed in on the frozen video, then increased the resolution to decrease the grainy pixilation.

  “How ‘bout now?”

  “Mmm…,” he hummed, “it doesn’t show enough detail and it’s too close to get a good sense of proportion. What’s the file path?”

  Chloe told him the Master Server location for the CYCLOPS program as she began selecting another video file to review.

  “Wow!” he exclaimed upon viewing the content of the parent folder. “Okay. I have a couple of thoughts on how to go about finding the evidence we need.”

  Armada spent the next few minutes giving Chloe specifics on what he was in search of. With subfolders numbering in the thousands containing hundreds and hundreds of hours of captured video footage and only two of them to inspect the contents, time was their enemy.

  After another two hours of nonstop investigation and nothing to show for her efforts, Chloe’s tolerance level maxed out.

  “Augh!” she suddenly shouted, slamming her palms on the table.

  Slumping back in the chair, Chloe buried her face in her hands and growled again in frustration, “Augh!”

  “Here we go, here we go!” Armada excitedly replied. “Look, baby!”

  Disgruntled, Chloe flopped her arms on her lap and released a deep sigh.

  “Oh, c’mon now … cheer up. Look, this is exactly what we were in search of.”

  Chloe reluctantly steered her chair beside him and leaned on the table, propping her head in the palm of her hand.

  “Okay, let me play this from the beginning,” Armada suggested, then started the clip. “This is what Euclid was referring to. Obviously, this footage was shot after those first few videos. Look at the surface of Cloud One.”

  Armada paused the video and pointed at a vast network of conduit measuring roughly three inches in diameter. The pipelines branched off a central manifold that was considerably larger. At the end of each tube was a ring that, in Armada’s estimation, was ten feet across, and had multiple plugs and connection ports located near the rims. The rings were lined up in rows of ten, with one row staggered against the other, similar to a honeycomb.

  “We did not build that,” he defiantly stated, crossing his arms.

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, ma’am!”

  “Can you play the entire video in quarter time?” she asked.

  “You mean like time lapse … in fast motion? Yep, yep.”

  Armada restarted the video, but this time played it in fast forward. The couple watched the digital film repeatedly, in its entirety, looking for any additional clues.

  “What do those numbers in the lower left-hand corner signify? What do they mean?” Chloe asked, tapping at the screen.

  “The top one is the helmet transponder, under that is the worker’s identity number, then the POG comm-link coupler port, and at the bottom is the division or company name. So my recorded videos would have my transponder, then Evan Armada Nine, my POG comm-link port number, and Arena One A would be at the very bottom. Why?”

  Without saying a word, Chloe sat up and retrieved her tablet. She quickly pecked at the digital keyboard and brought up a video she had seen earlier.

  “Look at the identifiers in your video and this one I saw a while ago.”

  Armada glanced back and forth between the two screens, comparing the information.

  “They’re different companies!” he boldly declared. “Pull up another one. Any file. It doesn’t matter, just open a new video.”

  Chloe skipped ahead, bypassing several weeks’ worth of stored footage, and randomly selected a video file.

  “Okay, pause it,” Armada requested.

  They again compared the identity credentials of the older video to those of the new one.

  “This company name is different, too,” she blurted. “But let’s go ahead and finish this video before we….”

  “Whoa!” Armada suddenly hollered, jumping in his seat. “Go back! Go back!”

  Chloe silently did as instructed and replayed the clip.

  “Stop!” he ordered, patting her arm.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  Armada tilted his head back, covered his face, and moaned with a halfhearted laugh.

  “Oh, my gosh! I’m such an idiot!” he loudly complained.

  “I know you’re an idiot.”

  “I knew this looked familiar. It’s a WES.”

  Chloe closely scrutinized the image on her screen.

  “Are you kidding? A waste ejection system? On the surface of a Cloud? That makes absolutely zero sense!”

  “Hey, I’m not saying I know what they’re planning to do with it. I’m merely stating what it is.”

  “Are you mad? How would that work? Think about it. If one end of the tube is permanently affixed to the Cloud surface, how would they insert the canisters?”

  “Baby, I’m not arguing with you. I’m just saying what they built has all the earmarks of a waste ejection system.”

  “This is ludicrous!” she loudly exclaimed, slapping the arms of her chair.

  “Why create a means of launching nuclear waste into deep space, then turn right around and deploy the capsules for reentry into Earth’s atmosphere?”

  Armada watched his wife pace about nervously as she continued her rant.

  “Why install ten separate systems and place them in orbit around the world? Engenechem would be forced to deliver the canisters to all ten Clouds, individually, and insert one in each….”

  Chloe froze in midsentence with her jaw hanging low.

  “Armada!” she squeaked, then covered her mouth.

  “Hey,” he said tenderly and rose from his seat. “What is it, baby? What’s got you so upset?”

  Armada gently squeezed and rubbed her arms before drawing her into him. Chloe pressed herself heavily into his chest and wept. Her body tensed and lurched forward with her soundless crying. Armada nestled his wife’s head in one hand as he slowly ran the other in wide circles on her back and shoulders.
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  “Don’t you see it?” Chloe suddenly and loudly asked, pushing him away from her. “They’re constructing missile silos! Silos for launching nuclear missiles! That’s how Wyczthack’s gonna do it! He’s constructing ten mobile platforms for nuclear missile deployment that can be positioned anywhere he wants!”

  Chloe began walking in a circle as Armada stepped back to the table to reexamine the paused video.

  “Baby, are you sure about this? Are you positive?”

  “Whadyamean ‘Am I positive’? Look! See for yourself! I’m not stupid … I know what I’m talking about! Cain’s built ten maneuverable missile silos, and there’s nobody and no government that can stop him.”

  Chloe brushed past him, stepped to the bathroom, and slammed the door shut.

  Flabbergasted by Chloe’s remarks and emotional outburst, Armada took his seat and slouched back.

  If Cain has been installing nuclear missiles, he thought, staring at the tablet screen and its frozen, captured video footage, then there should be recorded video showing the missiles being loaded on the SUBOS.

  He sat up straight and began typing on his tablet.

  If there’s camera footage showing the missiles, he further surmised, then we should be able to identify the contractors.

  Chloe exited the bathroom in a huff, carrying a wet washcloth. She passed in front of the table without so much as a glance at her husband. Still visibly upset, she marched to their bed and flopped herself on the mattress.

  Armada kept his eyes glued to the tablet screen.

  “All I need to do is track one of the missiles from off-loading at the switchbacks to its point of installation on one of the Clouds,” he mumbled lowly, but loud enough for Chloe to hear.

  Armada reopened one of the video files Chloe had found and located the digital time and date stamp and camera number. He watched closely as the personnel raised the shrouded nuclear weapon from its moorings on the rail car. The bomb was then lowered and gingerly placed in a wheeled, hydraulic cradle that slowly crept to the SUBOS. A small army of Engenechem employees wearing yellow suits then escorted the cargo to the tower.

  However, once the cradle arrived at the staging zone for the SUBOS elevators, the video suddenly stopped.

  “What!?” Armada amazedly stated.

  He backed up the video and replayed it, but once again the footage was cut short. There was zero evidence of a nuclear missile. The only images the video surveillance system recorded were those of an extremely large and cloaked object arriving at the SUBOS loading dock.

  The video camera’s parent folder contained a multitude of individual recordings. Armada randomly selected a new video to examine, and, after watching the first few seconds, went to the end of the footage. It, too, was suspiciously cut short.

  With the newest video’s time and date stamp still visible on his tablet screen, Armada searched the Master Server parent folders of every SUBOS elevator for a video file whose creation date and time were similar to that of the switchback camera. For all of his efforts, Armada found no data to support Chloe’s theory.

  No visual confirmation of a missile being loaded in the SUBOS, he thought. In fact, no evidence of a missile even existing.

  Scratching his head, he gave pause to consider his last mental comment.

  “No missiles. No evidence of missiles. No evidence.”

  At that instant an idea struck him: There should be a trail of overlapping videos, starting with the SUBOS cameras and ending with the Clouds.

  Once he filtered the Engenechem Master Server hard drive for video files only, it became visibly clear that a massive amount of data was missing.

  Deliberately.

  The libraries for the switchbacks, the SUBOS elevator system, the Aerie, CARBELs, HALOs, and Clouds, had glaring gaps in their files. The file’s creation times should, technically speaking, bleed into one another by at least a few seconds, but by no more than half a minute. These folders weren’t off by ten seconds here or seven seconds there; absent were hours and hours of film footage. For some of the Clouds, entire days were missing.

  ‘Cain’s erasing the evidence,’ Armada quietly told himself. ‘He’s having all video files showing missiles and personnel deleted. Chloe was right. Wyczthack’s built himself maneuverable missile silos, and nobody knows it.’

  Disgusted and disheartened with his findings, he again slumped back in his chair.

  Armada twisted his head and silently stared at his wife as she lay in bed.

  “Tell me how this works,” he requested, knowing full well that Chloe’s analytical personality would emerge, thereby distracting her emotionally. “If Cain’s plan is to launch all these missiles, won’t the heat damage and weaken the integrity of the Cloud’s outer hull?”

  “He doesn’t necessarily need to fire the missiles from the Clouds in order to launch them,” she commented from her horizontal position.

  Armada’s idea on how to calm Chloe down worked like a charm. He had barely finished asking his question when he noticed a complete change in her countenance.

  “That’s what the conduit is there for,” she said as she stood and walked to the table. “They’re going to quickly release a burst of compressed gas in the base of each missile silo. Just like they do on a submarine for an SLBM, the gas will rapidly expand at the bottom and propel the missile upward, ejecting it from the launch tube. Once the internal operating systems on the missiles kick in, sensors will let the onboard computers know when it’s far away enough from the Clouds to activate the propulsion system.”

  “So, how soon could one of these hit its target?”

  “Well … that’s all relative depending on a couple of factors,” she replied. “What’s the elevation from the Earth’s surface at the time of launch? Are they deploying Poseidon missiles? Tridents? Peacekeepers? Minutemen? Decommissioned Polaris missiles? Some of these travel four to seven kilometers per second. If Cain were to fire the missiles from an orbit as close as one hundred miles, technically speaking … less than three minutes.”

  Armada gazed sternly at his wife as she continued her lecture.

  “On top of that, there can be as few as six or as many as twelve independent warheads in every missile. At a minimum, each one can deliver a payload equivalent to three hundred kilotons of TNT. That’s roughly twenty times the destructive force of the bomb dropped on Hiroshima. Little Boy vaporized tens of thousands instantly using a little uranium with a blast yield of fifteen kilotons of TNT. And that was a ground detonation. Imagine what just one warhead detonating a mile or half mile over Manhattan, Houston, or Seattle would do.”

  Armada turned around and stared at the grainy image on his tablet.

  “So … every missile is programmed to launch to a specific area, then all the independent warheads are jettisoned, and those are preprogrammed to detonate at a predetermined altitude over a preset destination. And each warhead is basically twenty times more powerful than the Hiroshima A-Bomb. Correct? Do I have that right?”

  He remained focused on the video as he waited for Chloe’s answer.

  “Yes, you’re correct,” she firmly replied.

  Armada ran his fingers through his hair and briskly scratched his scalp in frustration.

  “For the sake of arguing,” he began, “let’s hypothetically assume that Cain has installed, and is currently loading, one hundred individual missile silos on each Cloud. That means once completed, he’ll have at least one thousand missiles at the ready. Right?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “And you stated there can be six to twelve individual warheads per missile. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  He hesitated before completing his thought process.

  “That’s six to twelve thousand warheads.”

  Armada twisted back to look at Chloe. Tears had once again filled her eyes.

  With a crack in her voice she weakly asked, “Do you think he’ll save us?”

  CHAPTER 36

  TRACED AND ERAS
ED

  ‘I don’t understand his request,’ the message read. ‘It’s illogical. If we’re already gathered together, why have us break and reassemble in a new spot? He’s never done this.’

  ‘Can you tell me anything else?’ Armada typed, and sent his question to Euclid.

  “What all did he say?” Chloe called out from behind the partially closed bathroom door.

  “He said Garret came to the Arena and told them all to be in EVA Dock in half an hour,” Armada hollered back.

  “And?” she loudly asked.

  “And what? That’s it.”

  “That’s Euclid’s idea of an emergency?”

  “Well, it’s more Garret’s demeanor and delivery that’s got Euclid’s brain going.”

  “Euclid is unnerved because Garret wants to talk to everyone in a different location?”

  Chloe closed the door, finished undressing, and stepped into the shower.

  The word ‘hello’ suddenly appeared on the screen of Armada’s tablet, followed by several question marks.

  ‘What do I do now?’ Euclid’s next message asked, followed by, ‘Don’t ask me why, but I got a bad feeling about this.’

  Armada read and reread his friend’s note.

  ‘Do you have the swatch of SPUD fabric with you?’ Armada typed and pressed ‘send.’

  ***

  “And you’re absolutely positive these transmission records are correct?” Cain inquired with his signature raised eyebrow. “Without a doubt?”

  The young man quickly transferred his gaze from Dr. Wyczthack to Bianca Doyle, then to Dr. White and Riggs Woodburn, and back again to Cain.

  “Yes,” he nervously and sheepishly replied. “Yes sir, absolutely positive, one hundred percent without a doubt. The dates line up accordingly.”

  Cain casually reviewed the report once more, briefly skimming through its content. Riggs, Bianca, and Dr. White held their tongues as Cain contemplated the findings of the digital forensic investigator.

  “That’ll do,” Cain stated without so much as a glance at the man standing before him.

  “Sir?” he meekly asked.