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Ocean of Storms

Page 37

by Christopher Mari


  “I wonder who’s ringing us up now—NSA, CIA, FBI?” Zell grumbled as he peered through his window. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m growing rather weary of all this cloak-and-dagger shit.”

  “You are?” said Soong. “Since making your acquaintance, I’ve been in a bar fight, nearly incinerated by an exploding rocket, shot at, and stranded on the Moon! And while I know all of this is just an average day for the cowboys at the Zell Institute, it’s a bit much for me.”

  “Come now, dear Dr. Soong,” said Zell, “it hasn’t been as bad as all that. After all, through all the hardship, at least you were treated to the pleasure of my company.”

  Soong shot him a chiding glance, then looked out the window. “Well, I see who’s summoned us,” she said. “Take a look.”

  The three men peered out the window and saw the familiar pillars of the White House on the horizon.

  “Hoo boy,” said Benny. “Things just got interesting.”

  Once they had arrived, the foursome was given over to two Secret Service agents, who led them into the library in the White House, where they were told to wait. Donovan paced the plush carpet as the others glanced around the room, looking at the paintings of long-dead presidents, craning their necks to read the spines of books. No one said anything, all of them secretly worried that whatever they said was either being recorded or monitored or both. Ten minutes later the doors opened and in strolled John Dieckman, Aaron Stein, and an elderly gentleman who no one but Zell recognized.

  “Who’s that?” Benny whispered to Donovan. Before he could get his answer, Zell stood up and walked over to the older man.

  “Alastair, you old git!” Zell bellowed as he shook the man’s hand vigorously. “Who’d you cheat to get this job?”

  “Very likely the same people you cheated when you were given an OBE, old boy!” the man fired back. The two men shared a laugh, and then Zell turned to his three companions. “This is Alastair Brindle, an old friend and recently named British ambassador to the United States. His son studied at the institute for a few years.” Zell turned to Brindle, grinning. “How is Nigel, by the way?”

  “Doing well indeed,” said Brindle. “Over on a dig in the South Pacific—Tonga, I believe.”

  “Is it just me,” Benny asked in an aside to Soong, “or has everyone studied at the Zell Institute at one time or another?”

  “I’m sorry to break this up,” Stein said, “but there is a reason the President called you out here at four in the morning, and it’s a rather pressing one.”

  Just then the President entered the room. Everyone stood as she swept by and took her seat, nodding in greeting to all present.

  “Good morning,” the President began. “First off, I should tell you that I am personally investigating all the evidence you’ve brought back from Tanzania. Ambassador Brindle is here to serve as liaison to the prime minister, who is heading up an independent investigation on her end. As Dr. Soong may already know, the Chinese ambassador was debriefed on the situation last night and has pledged his country’s cooperation during this investigation. And as you might expect, owing to the extremely sensitive nature of the Tanzania dig, I would ask, though not demand, that you remain quiet about what you’ve seen and discovered until we can get all the facts on the table.”

  “That seems fair enough, Madam President,” Zell said. “Most people wouldn’t believe a fish story like that anyway.”

  The President smiled at Zell’s remark and turned to Stein, who had pulled a pair of half-moon reading glasses from his breast pocket as he shuffled through an overstuffed manila folder. “What we’ve been able to divine, based on the fragmentary intel that you and the Sierra team were able to extract, is that the men who ambushed your site at the crater were outside contractors hired by Walker to suppress whatever you found there.”

  Benny folded his arms across his chest. “By suppress you mean they were planning to bump us off.”

  Stein cleared his throat. “Well . . . yes.”

  Donovan fidgeted in his chair. “Hired by Walker or TGI?”

  “It would seem that Walker was acting primarily on his own,” Stein explained, glancing over the rims of his glasses. “The site was owned and operated by TGI, but the more sensitive information, such as you described, hadn’t yet reached their offices. We then did a back trace on Walker’s financial holdings. It appears that, in addition to his stock in TGI, Walker held patents with a number of drug companies, as well as cord-blood registries and fetal-tissue research centers. Most of these companies operated below the radar and without FDA approval.”

  “So he hoped to steal this technology right out from under TGI’s nose and sell it to the highest bidder?” asked Donovan.

  “It appears so,” Stein answered.

  “Black-market genetic engineering,” mused Soong. “What’s next?”

  “It should be noted,” said the President, “that TGI is not without blame. They knew, at least in part, what Walker was up to. They gave him access to the site, high-level clearance at their labs. Hell, it even seems as if he was using some of their age-slowing technology on himself.”

  “Vainglorious bastard,” cursed Zell.

  “Needless to say, however minimal TGI’s involvement may or may not have been, they’re up to something shady, and I don’t like it. I’ve authorized the Justice Department to open legal proceedings against them.”

  “What’s your involvement in all this, Alastair?” Zell asked.

  “As you know, Elias,” he began, “I sit on the board of the British Museum and have a pretty good ear to the ground when it comes to news of an archeological type.”

  “Of course,” said Benny, “all the better to tip off your old Oxford buddy.”

  “Well said,” noted Brindle. “As odd as this is to imagine now in light of recent events, the British government had planned to ask the Zell Institute to investigate the Tanzania site when it was first reported by the Maasai two years ago. However, as Elias was then on a dig in New Zealand and out of contact, another team went out to the site to investigate. You can imagine my surprise when three days later they all turned up dead. That’s when all the nonsense about that so-called plague started, and we haven’t been able to get close since. The point is, if Cal Walker or anyone at TGI had a hand in this, they also have the blood of British citizens on their hands.”

  “Let me see if I understand this,” Donovan interjected. “A British archeology team went to investigate what had been found in the crater and turned up dead. But then somehow this dig site wound up in the hands of Walker and TGI. Does anyone know how this happened?”

  Stein cleared his throat. “That’s what we hope to discover, Dr. Donovan. But the situation is more complicated than that. It appears that the dig site had been discovered about two years ago by one of the Maasai. It was at that point that the British team went to investigate and was found dead. TGI, through some contacts in the British and American governments, somehow gained access to the site—likely after they learned that a ship of some kind was found there. They planned on using the technology they found there to improve their own genetic-engineering techniques but made little headway until six months ago, when the pulse from the Astraeus activated the ship’s systems.”

  Soong shook her head. “So what you’re saying is that the two ships were connected?”

  “In a way we can’t even begin to understand. The pulse somehow turned on the Eos’s dormant systems, thereby allowing TGI access to its memory core. We suspect that Walker, once he knew of the existence of the Moon ship and in order to further his own ends, made sure he got involved in the Phoenix program to prevent us from ever learning about that second ship. Whatever technology he had procured, he wanted to make sure he had it all to himself.”

  “But I thought you had asked him to come on board, Deke,” Donovan interjected.

  “I did,” Dieckman replied. “But I think I just beat him to the punch. We now feel that he was planning on getting inv
olved, either personally or through his government contacts, one way or the other.”

  “This is nefarious,” Soong muttered in disbelief.

  “It gets worse, Dr. Soong,” Dieckman added. “We also suspect that Walker had contacts in China who helped sabotage the Chinese moon program before our two countries joined forces.”

  “You can see where this is going,” said the President. “People are dead, evidence has been destroyed, and now the governments of four nations—the US, the UK, China, and Tanzania—want answers. If this isn’t handled with kid gloves, the Taiwan blockade will seem like a walk in the park. That’s why we’re asking for your cooperation. I assure you, this is not an attempt to cover anything up. I want the truth about these ships known as much as you do. But if we’re careful and go about this cautiously, then we can prevent the future that you witnessed. In the end, what I’m asking for is your trust.” She extended her hand to Donovan. “Do I have it?”

  “Even if you didn’t, Madam President,” Donovan said, “I expect we wouldn’t have a choice.”

  The President smiled slightly and nodded. “You have me there, Dr. Donovan. That’s why this administration would greatly appreciate your understanding in this highly sensitive matter.”

  There was a brief moment of silence; then Donovan shook the President’s hand, as did Benny, Soong, and Zell. They then turned to leave. At the door Donovan turned back to the President, who was still seated.

  “There’s just one thing that bothers me, Madam President.”

  The President lifted her head. “And that is?”

  Donovan looked at Zell and the others, and turned back to the President after having received their unspoken support. “I think it’s become clear to us that Walker had help in sabotaging the Moon mission—access to government property, top-secret intel, the works—from someone high up in the government.”

  The President nodded. “Yes, we’re fairly certain of that. In order to inflict the damage to your spacecraft, Walker and TGI must have had help from someone with access to your ship’s systems.”

  “And do you know who that person is?” Benny asked. “People died up there, Madam President. We can’t just let that go.”

  The President shuffled fixed her gaze on Donovan. “I’m sorry to say that the operatives remain unknown.”

  Donovan shook his head. “They usually are, ma’am. But they don’t always stay that way.”

  After Donovan and the others had left, the President, Brindle, Dieckman, and Stein began to discuss the issues that had arisen since the incidents on the Moon and in Tanzania.

  “As you know,” said the President, “the Chinese president is in agreement with us. The true nature of the Eos, and all traces of the world it came from, must remain buried. To reveal it would create a worldwide panic.”

  “I should say that it is the opinion of His Majesty’s government that we shouldn’t rush to hide the ship,” protested Brindle. “We could learn so much from it.”

  “Though I’m loath to say it, the ambassador’s right,” argued Dieckman. “The scientific applications are too great. We should study it.”

  “Interesting you should say that, Deke,” noted the President. “With the growing threat of chemical and biological terrorism, the genetic information recovered from the Eos has the power to save millions of lives. Not to mention what its technical specifications could do to solve energy problems, help the space program—the list goes on and on. I’ve struck a deal that will allow each of the four nations involved to benefit from the science and technology the Eos has to offer.”

  “What about Russia?” asked Stein.

  “This is an . . . exclusive deal,” said the President. “To bring them on board could create a rift with the Chinese.”

  “What about Zell and Donovan?” said Brindle. “Despite the trouble they’ve caused, they served both our countries well. I think some form of compensation should be in order.”

  “We’re prepared to make a generous contribution to further Dr. Zell’s research,” said the President.

  “Not that he needs it,” muttered Deke.

  “And the Eos?” asked Brindle. “When can we get a team out there to start excavating?”

  “We’ll have them in place within a week.”

  “Excellent,” Brindle said, rising from his chair. “Well, then. Everything’s in place, isn’t it?”

  “Of course,” said Stein, “I should at least mention the fact that, by even allowing any trace of the Eos to survive, we could be setting in motion the downfall of the human race.”

  “That’s one future, Aaron, and not mine,” said the President. “We’re taking the knowledge of events to come and using them to our advantage.”

  With a gesture, Dieckman led Ambassador Brindle out into the hallway. Stein stayed for a moment, gathering up his papers. The President watched him as he collected his things, knowing full well what he had on his mind.

  “You might as well say it, Aaron.”

  Stein looked up from his papers quizzically. “Madam President?”

  “You’re still here because you want to talk about Jim McKenna again. You’ve made it clear enough that you don’t approve of my solution.”

  Stein pulled off his glasses and tucked them back into his breast pocket. “No, ma’am, I don’t. Putting aside the fact that he’s directly responsible for the deaths of that British archeology team and the astronauts on the Moon, he betrayed this country. He betrayed you, ma’am, even if he ultimately confessed his involvement to you. Having him just disappear doesn’t give justice to those people’s families. And to top it all off, Donovan, Zell, and the others know someone on the inside was working for Walker. They just don’t know it was the head of Space Command.”

  “And what would you have me do, Aaron?” the President asked. “Put him on trial for treason? Have him executed? Have the whole mess come out in the open after all the time and effort we’ve spent trying to keep matters hushed up?”

  Stein flushed. “May I speak freely, ma’am?”

  “Always.”

  He approached the President’s chair. “This is about your friendship with McKenna, ma’am. This is about the politics of having one of your closest friends and advisers be revealed as a traitor to this nation. You feel like you owe him something, and you feel like you owe it to your political career to cover up a scandal.”

  The President stared at Stein for a long while with a pained look on her face. Stein wasn’t sure what to make of such a look. He could be an inch away from being fired for speaking so boldly. Or he could be a moment away from being one of the precious few who’d seen this president with her guard down.

  “Aaron,” the President said, “the only reason we’re having this conversation is because Jim McKenna confessed to me and helped us retrieve not only Donovan and the others but the ship itself. His actions helped a lot of people. His actions helped me. Maybe that means I do owe him something. But then so do we all. He’s punished far above any verdict a jury could pronounce on him. He’ll never see anyone he ever loved again, including the son he sacrificed everything for.”

  “I understand, Madam President.”

  “Thank you. Now please let’s never speak of this again.”

  Two hours after the meeting at the White House, Soong emerged from a steaming bath in her hotel room and sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in an oversized hotel towel. She could hardly believe the road that she had traveled in the last few months. It was as if the life before her training had belonged to another woman—a more innocent woman, perhaps, not someone who had walked the halls of power and flown to the Moon, definitely not the woman who had come to face the paradoxes of time itself. And yet, as she sat there brushing her hair, the time paradox seemed in a way no more complicated than the journey of life itself. Once, she had been a child living in a small fishing village, but since that time she had made the decisions that had brought her to this moment. She felt both small and a part of something greater,
a mere piece of stitching in the fabric of the quilt of life and yet something intrinsic to the whole. The idea was remarkably comforting.

  The hotel phone rang. She gripped her towel around her and picked up the receiver and was surprised to hear a very familiar voice at the other end.

  “Bruce! Bruce, how are you?”

  “Very good, I must say. Married life agrees with me.”

  She smiled at the idea. She had almost completely forgotten that Bruce Yeoh was now a married man. “Congratulations. I’m glad to hear that you’re happy.”

  Bruce’s tone grew serious. “I’m sure you know why I’m calling.”

  “I imagine you heard a very similar conversation to the one I heard this morning.”

  “As Benny would say, ‘You got that right, chief.’ I know we shouldn’t really talk about it over an open line, but I wanted to call to see if you were okay.”

  “I am,” Soong said quietly. “I’m a little surprised that I am. It’s strange, but I was just thinking about that when you called.”

  “Maybe, then, we were meant to have this conversation,” Bruce said with a laugh.

  “So now you believe in fate, Bruce? That’s somewhat hard to believe coming from a physicist.”

  “I guess it is. I really haven’t quite come to grips with everything, but I am starting to wonder about a lot of things. Like the idea that time itself might not be a fixed thing. And the mere idea is making me reevaluate a lot of my beliefs.”

  “As our experiences should.”

  “It’s more than just the idea that the decisions made in the last twenty-four hours could be leading to the creation of an alternate timeline. Perhaps it’s simply the idea that we have more power over our lives than I have ever thought possible. That life can’t be broken down simply into an evolutionist’s idea or a priest’s idea of the universe. That it could be an incredible combination of the two—design and evolution playing off one another in an eternal battle.”

 

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