by T. R. Harris
Nigel’s eyebrows went up. “No shit … already?”
Kronis was familiar with Human idioms, so he continued without hesitation. “Yes, by analyzing the signals we were able to duplicate the transmitters and receivers. And then after adapting a Formilian translation device, with its considerable memory, we have been able to read the brainwaves of certain subjects and decipher the signals.”
Kronis walked Nigel over to a bank of monitoring screens and pointed to one of them. “You see here that this signal repeats.” He was pointing at a squiggly line on the screen. Nigel took his word for it that it repeated. “Within the subject’s brainwaves this thought corresponds to a microwave food processor. It always refers to the processor, so when this signal reappears, the computer within the modified translator knows the subject is thinking about the processor.”
“That fine, but how do we get the brain to control the processor?”
Kronis pointed to another screen. “Here is where the message is sent to a basic scanning device that searches for the electronic signature of the processor. All electronic devices emit a unique signature, and this part of the device can detect it. So now we have a thought indicating a processor and a scan of the area to locate the processor. All we need now is a way of gaining control of the device.”
“How is that done?”
“That we are still working on – but we are very close. It has to do with matching the exact signature of the device and then pretending to be that device – something we call ghosting. What security codes the device may have – and a food processor has none, so it is easy – are bypassed, allowing our signal to ride along, mimicking the original. Now we have control of the device, and the thoughts of the subject can be used to communicate what changes we wish to affect within it.”
“So when will a working model be ready? I haven’t much time.”
“A month, possibly less,” Kronis answered. “Right now our problem is in consolidating all these various functions into one unit which is not too cumbersome to transport. But then the device would have to be programmed.”
“How long will that take?”
“That is something that is done continuously. By programming, I mean adding more distinct thoughts that the device can then store in its memory. Programming can happen in real-time, as a device is being controlled, yet with more items already in the memory, the quicker will be the time from original thought to control of the device.”
“Good job, Kronis.” The Nigel turned to leave the room, but at the doorway he stopped and looked back at the bulky scientist. “I’m leaving in a month. I want a working model by then, something I can take with me.”
“An implant, such as the female had, will not be ready by then.”
“Then make it external, something I can wear or attach to my body or clothing. I’m leaving in a month and want that device. Do this, Kronis, and there will an extra million credits as a bonus.”
“A million! Yes, Ma-Jor. The device will be ready! I guarantee it.”
After leaving the realm of the scientists, McCarthy took a small cart about a mile along the spacious lava tube back to his personal residence. Since rank always has its privileges, McCarthy had dug out of the lava wall a gigantic open space easily half the size of a football field. Within this vast chamber, he placed his bed, kitchen area, bathroom, separate meeting room for guests, as well as a work area that looked out upon the desolate and rust-hued landscape of Highland. Several other members of this team had also made personal chambers that looked out on the outside landscape, yet McCarthy’s was by far the largest and most-panoramic.
Nigel sat down in a comfortable, over-padded chair at a huge granite slab that served as his desk. The patterns within the stone were magnificent, a mixture of browns and golds, with even a little blue thrown in for good measure. The desk top was easily ten feet long by four feet deep, with one long side pressed up against the thick, curving glass of the dome that protected him from the harsh elements of the planet. It was early evening on Nigel’s world, and long, deep shadows were creeping through the jagged peaks outside, a harbinger of the sub-zero temperatures that the night would bring.
But inside his sanctuary, Nigel McCarthy was safe, warm, and content with the path he must follow. He wanted his war; he had made it such a vital part of his long-range planning that to see if fade away or be postponed indefinitely was nearly unbearable.
And of all people to show up to interrupt his plans again – Adam Cain! For nearly thirteen years, the unfathomably-lucky American had been interfering with his affairs. Yes, he knew this latest interruption to his plans had been initiated by the stupid Kracori, probably once more aligned with the manipulative Klin. But all that had done was allow Cain to escape with the Formilian woman. Yet then he had been able to evade a galaxy-wide manhunt to make it back to Formil and save the Speaker. No matter how much he hated Cain, he had to admire his tenacity. He reminded McCarthy a lot of himself.
But now it was time to put Plan B into action. It had been Adam Cain who had disrupted his first plan, so it seemed only appropriate that he should play an integral part in the alternative.
McCarthy began with a seemingly innocuous statement Cain had made to him on Uniss-3 – I do odd-jobs for Kroekus now. He would start there.
In these troubled times within the New Expansion – hell, anytime for that matter – there were always people willing to sell information for money. Aliens were no exception. As a matter of fact, Nigel found aliens to be the most-willing to rollover on their friends and co-workers for a quick stack of credits. McCarthy figured this came about from the splintering of their native identity, where members of several diverse races may be working in close proximity to one another. The information obtained and the duties performed often failed to have any racial importance to the workers.
So what if this particular bit of information could harm the XYZ-race? I’m of the ABC-race, so why should I care? And the credits I’ll receive for this act are good anywhere I want to spend them.
So when Nigel McCarthy set about building his criminal empire, his first priority was to setup an elaborate system for intelligence gathering. After all, knowledge was power, and now he had the most-extensive network of spies and informants to be found anywhere in the galaxy.
Nigel had access to some of the most classified databases in the Expansion, and so he started with a simple name search of the employees and associates of the Expansion Administrator, Kroekus. Much to his surprise, the name Adam Cain came up almost immediately. It seems that the young Mr. Cain was a very prominent figure throughout the Expansion and Kroekus was anxious to exploit their affiliation.
Cain was the head of something called the Force-One Enforcement Division for the Expansion Intelligence Interdepartment. Nigel had never heard of it before, and as he read further, he began to understand why.
Even though the Force-One group was assigned to the Intelligence Inter-Department – the galaxy’s spy agency – they didn’t seem to go through too much effort to hide their existence. But the reason Nigel had never heard of them was because they were so small – just six Human members in the entire operation. Nigel shook his head in disbelief when he also found he could call up the names of each of the members of this special enforcement branch of the New Expansion government. Not very clandestine, now are they?
The team Cain had assembled – something called Cain’s Crusaders according to the report – included Adam, of course, as well as his long-time sidekick Riyad Tarazi. Then there were three other men whose names he did not recognize: Jamal Dawson, Mark Henderson and Lee Schwartz. And then he saw the one name he was hoping to find – Sherri Valentine.
So she’s still with him? Nigel thought. Good. Just the motivator I need.
And then Nigel dug deeper, again amazed at the breath and openness of the information he was able to obtain while sitting at his desk, on a barren world over six hundred light years from Juir. The file went on to report that, although the Intelli
gence Interdepartment was located on Juir, the headquarters of Force-One was not. Instead, it was on a planet called Pyrum-3, with a relative position to Nigel’s Highland of four-hundred eighty light years. Hell, the report even went so far as to pinpoint the exact location on the planet where Adam’s base could be found! Insane.
One last drilldown in the files from Juir also revealed that Cain’s base on Pyrum had been constructed using New Expansion government money, and hence there was a work order and reference to the plans that had been used in its construction.
Now giggling with delight, Nigel accessed the official construction database for the Expansion, a huge amount of information that was quickly sifted through with a keyword search of ‘Pyrum-3.’ It seems that only one facility had been built on the planet using government funds – Cain’s base. A few more click-throughs and Nigel McCarthy was looking at the official construction plans for Cain’s entire facility, all the way down to the plumbing and landscaping schematics.
He printed out hard copies of all this information, material he would use to plan the assault on Cain’s base. Again McCarthy shook his head. It seemed that Cain and his team felt they had nothing to hide. They were such a small group, operating by authority of the Expansion Administrator, and always at locations far from their home base. Why should they hide?
If Nigel McCarthy had anything to do with it, many of Cain’s team would not live long enough to realized the short-sightedness of their assumptions.
In thirty days, Nigel and a select team of twenty of his top Human commandos would depart Highland for Pyrum-3, and by that time Nigel McCarthy will possess one of the greatest weapons in the galaxy. No one would be able to stand against him, not even the insufferable Adam Cain. He would get his war and he would get his revenge on the insolent former-Navy SEAL.
All in all, Plan B was shaping up to be a very satisfying alternative to Plan A, and especially with the added bonus of the impending death and humiliation of Adam Cain.
Chapter 24
Adam left Formil and set a beeline course for Pyrum-3. Once the auto-pilot was set, he flicked a switch that would replay his messages. There were ninety-one of them, all from either his team or Kroekus. Forty-two were from Sherri alone, with each one growing more-panicked as they went.
Just after returning to Formil with Arieel, Adam had sent a coded link to Pyrum informing his base that he was going to be out of touch for several weeks … while doing research. He didn’t tell them what that research entailed or even what subject it would cover. A quick acknowledgment had come back from his base.
But then they began to panic. No one had really expected him to stay out of touch for so long, especially not Sherri. Adam grimaced at first as he listened to her messages become more frantic and then transitioning into full-blown anger. Then the tone changed, and she started accusing him of shacking up with Arieel. Her protestations became more and more adamant, even though she kept reminding him in nearly every message that she really didn’t care what he did. Adam was a big boy, and if he wanted to trade spit with an alien that was his choice. Yes, it was his choice, yet Sherri was not shy at proclaiming her disgust with the whole concept.
Then Adam began to feel guilty. Sherri’s tone had changed in the last few messages; incredible pain and loneliness replacing the anger and pride. She had given up. He could do what he wanted, she said, even if that meant leaving Sherri alone and twenty-thousand light years from home.
Now feeling a panic himself, Adam opened a link to Pyrum-3. Jamal Dawson answered immediately, fighting back a tremendous yawn as he came on the screen.
“’Sup?” he said, looking slant-eyed and only half-awake. “Thought you was dead or something.” Since there were so few Humans left in this part of the galaxy, his team had long ago dispensed with formal military protocol, even though rank did come into play during ops. In the meantime, it was all very casual.
“Not hardly,” Adam answered. “Is Sherri around?”
Jamal glanced to his left. “Man, it’s oh-three-thirty here. She’s probably in dreamland – someplace I’d be, too, if I hadn’t covered Riyad’s watch. You know, you really need to get more of us in here, or find some creatures who can tolerate the damn gravity. Just ain’t enough of us to go around to cover all the shifts.”
“I’ll take it under advisement, sergeant-major. Now can you go wake her? I’m sure she’d like to hear from me,”
“Not at no three-thirty in the freaking morning, Capt’n. But I’ll let her tell you that herself. You’re just lucky she hasn’t already bugged out. Sure did take your sweat-ass time callin’ back.”
It was a full nine minutes – Adam counted – before Sherri stuck her disheveled head in front of the screen. She wiped the sleep from her eyes and stared at Adam with vacant eyes. “So you’ve decided to take a break from your little alien whore? Don’t let us keep you away too long.”
“C’mon, Sherri, you don’t really believe I’ve been with Arieel all this time?”
“Nah, just part of the time, even a superman like you needs to come up for air now and then.”
“I haven’t seen her since we got back to Formil. I’ve been checking up on Nigel McCarthy and his activities around here.” Adam felt bad about having to lie to her, but he certainly couldn’t tell the truth about what he’d been doing for the past twenty-two days.”
“You could’ve done that from here.”
“The Formilians have some of the most-extensive records anywhere in the galaxy. If anyone could help me track him down, it would be the Formilians.”
“So did you find him?”
Adam hesitated.
“I didn’t think so,” Sherri said, casually looking away from the screen. “I don’t know if Jamal told you, but I’m getting ready leave for Earth. Like I told you before, doing this whole Princess Leia thing is growing old.”
“I’m on my way back to Pyrum now. I’ll be there in four days. Don’t do anything until I get back.”
“I can’t promise you that, Adam.” Sherri had finally regained enough of her senses that she could now look straight into the screen. “You should have called, especially during those seven days when the whole fucking galaxy was out looking for you,” she said, a slight glassiness beginning to cover her eyes. “And since when do we go on missions alone? Even if you weren’t screwing around with little Miss Tight-Alien-Ass, you could have been killed – hell, you should have been killed!”
“I didn’t choose to go on this mission by my—” Even as he spoke the words he did his best to inhale them back into his lungs. He knew Sherri had refused to go on the mission, letting her emotions get the best of her after Adam’s reaction to an image of Arieel. Now Sherri broke down completely.
“I’m sorry, Sherri,” Adam said, desperately looking for anything he could say to make her feel better. He knew much for her pain and anger came from her own feelings of guilt at having let Adam go on the mission solo. “I was just playing with you before, about Arieel. There’s absolutely nothing going on between us. And look at me, I’m okay. I survived another mission.”
“This time, Adam, this time! You know we’re all pushing our luck with each mission we go on. And I didn’t come back out here to work with you and Kroekus because I had some kind of a death-wish. It’s just that things were kind of boring back on Earth.”
“So what’s changed?” Adam asked, remembering that they had already had this conversation before. “It’s the same as when you left. You’ll get bored again if you go back.”
“Yeah, but I won’t have to be afraid of the people I care for coming up as worm-food every other day.”
“I feel the same way, Sherri,” Adam said. “It is tough working this kind of job, especially with someone you care about. I don’t know what I would do if anything should happen to you.”
“So maybe it’s best this way? Maybe it’s better to be bored than dead?”
“I understand; I really do. But please don’t leave until I get back. If you
do, we’ll both regret it for the rest of our lives.”
“So what, I stick around just so you can talk me out of leaving, again?”
Adam attempted a smile. “Something like that,” he said. Sherri just snorted. “I won’t give up without a fight,” he said seriously.
“And I think I’m about to give up fighting.”
“Four days, Sher. I’ll be back in four days.”
Sherri wiped the tears from her eyes with a cloth offered by someone else in the room off camera. “We’ll see. Just get back safe.”
“Will do, Sherri,” Adam promised. “Four days. I’ll see you then.”
Sherri just nodded feebly and cut the link.
Chapter 25
When Adam returned to Pyrum-3 Sherri was still there, but just barely. She was packed and already had the Pegasus prepped for departure to Juir. From there she would catch one of the rare shuttles back to Earth, which the thousand or so members of the diplomatic mission used. She had reserved a hiberpod aboard the shuttle, so that even that long trip would pass without her having to think about her future – or her past.
Yet she hesitated leaving, Adam’s words about regret haunting her thoughts. She knew he would have to present one hell of an argument for her to stay. Failing that, she could be gone in an hour, without a lot of time to second guess her decision.
Adam came to her apartment and found her surprisingly small stack of personal belongings sitting by the front door. His heart jumped at the thought that he might have missed her by mere hours. “Looks like you’ve already made up your mind,” he said to her, a little too abruptly. He was growing angry that she wasn’t even going to give him a chance to change her mind.
“I’m just ready if things don’t work out,” she said. “You know me, always have to be prepared.” Her attempt at a smile failed miserably.
He took her hand and led her over the couch. They sat down next to each other and Adam put his hand on her shoulder.