The Gods We Make
Page 8
Elena appeared in Sara’s aiDe at 5:05 a.m. Her stern features were tempered this morning, the thin lines of her forehead arching up. Concern?
“Good morning, Elena.”
“And a pleasant start of the day to you, Sara. Did you have your first cup?”
“I just had the first sip. Tread lightly.” Sara forced a smile. “What’s up?” And what’s with the cheerful tone?
“I’m afraid there is some news about Dr. Li Min.”
“Afraid?” Not good. Not good at all. Tendrils of dread wrapped around her innards and yanked tight.
“We obtained a record that she was booked into Qincheng Prison today.”
Qincheng. The one operated by the Ministry of Public Security. Her throat tightened. “When did you find out?”
“Three hours ago.”
“You should have told me right away.” Sara’s hand trembled, sending ripples over the surface of her coffee.
“That wouldn’t have changed anything. Except you’d be even more exhausted today. Why don’t you go back to sleep for a few hours? I’ll be sure to wake you immediately if there are any developments. I promise.”
“Sleep.” Sara closed her eyes, breathed in deep and held the air for a three count. She exhaled and opened her eyes again. “I can’t. You know it.”
“I’m worried about you.” The lines of her forehead arched more and deepened.
“Thank you, Elena. I appreciate it.” She bit her lip. “Really. I do.”
“Are you ready for your morning briefing?”
Sara took a large sip from her cup and grimaced. Ouch. Hot. Careful there. “Yes, please go ahead.”
“The high-level summary is, ‘Nothing new.’ I suppose that won’t satisfy you, so I’ll share the minutiae.” Elena detailed intelligence reports from the six hours Sara was off duty.
“The specifics don’t satisfy me either.”
“I could have told you that, but you would have insisted on hearing them anyhow.”
“I know. It’s just… we’re getting nowhere. We’re stuck. We’re failing.” I’m failing.
“Have you considered that the task might be impossible, no matter how hard we try?”
“I can’t accept that.” Sara clenched her fist, nails digging into her palm. “If I make that conceit, I may as well quit.”
“If you don’t accept your physical limitations, you will burn out.” Elena was analytical again, the empathy absent from her tone. “If you can’t sleep more at least get your mind off work now and then. Speaking of which, when are you seeing Jake again?”
Sara blushed. “Jake?”
“I hear you had lunch with him.” Elena raised a knowing eyebrow. “You don’t have lunch with anyone at work.”
“Damn, this coffee’s too hot.” She took an ice cube from the freezer and dropped it in her cup.
“You’re changing the subject,” Elena said.
“We’re casual friends.” Wait, she thinks he’s handsome? How is that-
“Then why are your cheeks red?”
Sara sipped brownish-black goodness. Yuck, lukewarm now. “Okay. I like him. A lot, maybe. But I don’t have time for that.”
“Nobody is suggesting you marry him and start a family. You’re different after you’ve spent time with him. You’re happy. There’s a glow about you.”
“I… glow?”
“There is a lilt in your step, a chirp in your tone, a shine in your eyes… Need I go on?”
“Please don’t. I get it.” She took a longer sip of coffee, getting the caffeine where it needed to be. “It just so happens we’re meeting for dinner tonight.”
“Oh? Well, let him in. At least a little. His contract work will finish at the NSA. Just be discreet until then.”
“I need you to focus on your job, not my personal life.” Sara emptied her cup and pushed it away. “What can we do about Dr. Li?”
“Nothing, Sara. If they only suspect her of espionage, she’ll stay in prison. If they have hard evidence, they may well put her to death. If we start poking around, we might give them that evidence.”
If they don’t have it already. “It’s unacceptable to do nothing. I’ll be at work in thirty minutes. Pull together everything we have on Dr. Li and anyone involved in the arrest but stop gathering new intel on her. I want a team standing by to review Dr. Li’s situation with me the moment I reach my office.” She ended the call.
Sara drifted with slow, irregular steps into her living room. Wispy clouds obscured the moon. She stood in the pale gray light, her exhausted body trembling, hot tears rolling down her cheeks. I did it again. I got another person killed.
#
Dr. Abel Okoye entered the NASA Advanced Engineering Lab accompanied by the lab’s director, Dr. Hill. The pristine room brimmed with holographic computer interfaces, printers for every form of engineering material, and devices intended to subject components to a range of stresses. A dozen technicians sat in functional chairs watching a wall-sized video feed from a massive hangar a few miles away. A full-scale prototype of the latest ship propulsion design, powered by a fission reactor, was mounted in the center of the chamber. The technicians stood and greeted him, each shaking his hand.
“Good morning, JCN-Alpha,” Dr. Okoye said into the room.
“Welcome to the lab, Doctor.” JCN-Alpha’s synthesized voice boomed from concealed speakers. “It has been some time.”
“Yes, it has. I’m here to watch the prototype test with the team.”
JCN-Alpha did not respond. Its ability for small talk was limited.
The checklist displayed on the video feed, each item handled by automated systems in the remote hangar. One by one, each preparatory task changed from gray to green.
“Checklist complete,” JCN-Alpha announced. “Shall we begin?”
Dr. Hill gestured to Dr. Okoye. “The honor is yours.”
“Begin the test,” Dr. Okoye said.
“Vacuum pressure zero point zero three two Pascal. Space equivalent,” JCN-Alpha said.
Six disks at the rear of the propulsion assembly glowed, faintly at first, soon becoming brilliant teal. A hazy trail of blue-green plasma shot from the ion thrusters.
“Power input fifty percent of design limit,” JCN-Alpha said. “Increasing to sixty percent.”
The glow intensified.
“There is a thermal warning in power transfer coupling number two. Analyzing anomaly.”
A long, thin arm descended from the ceiling of the test chamber, its tip stopping a meter from the prototype. Readings from an array of sensors displayed near the bottom of the video feed.
“Coupler temperature stabilized. Increasing to sixty-five percent.”
A faint hum played over the video feed.
“Reading thermal warning in power transfer coupling number six.”
“Damn!” one of the technicians said.
“Thermal limit of coupling number two reached, disengaging-” JCN-Alpha said.
A shower of sparks sprayed from the prototype, bathing the sensor arm in dazzling, blue-white light. The ion thruster disks became faint blue rings then turned dark. Disappointed groans filled the lab.
“Total failure of coupling number two. The test result: Incapacitation of ship’s propulsion unit, probable damage to the fission reactor. This prototype can be operated at power levels not to exceed fifty-five percent of the design target.”
“Damn,” the technician said, his voice low and dejected. “Damn.”
#
The image of President Li’s assistant appeared in Colonel Long’s ocular implant. “Pardon the interruption,” she said with a hint of apprehension. “The president requests your presence as soon as possible.”
The colonel sat at the head of a worn oak table. A half-dozen military officers looked away as he took the call. “I’m in a planning meeting,” the colonel said. “Inform the president that I shall visit in the early afternoon.”
The woman scowled. “I am sorry colonel, but
he wishes to see you immediately. He was most insistent.” A professional smile crossed her lips. Her eyes gleamed with a wisp of triumph.
“As soon as possible is not the same thing as immediately.”
The triumph vanished. She bowed again. “I apologize for being unclear.”
The colonel grunted. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
His office was in Zhongnanhai, the same compound housing the president’s office, an unusual perk for a man of his rank. It was officially justified by the secretive nature of his work but in fact was due to his family connection to the president. His walk carried him past crews tearing up a section of concrete ground cover. President Li ordered the complex restored to the natural look it had during imperial times but with ultra-modern materials and landscaping techniques to make it an unmistakable creation of the twenty-first century.
It must be the Americans. What have they done to cause this urgency? A dozen scenarios drifted through his mind. He weighed each, trying to prepare as best he could for the meeting. The possibilities evaluated, his thoughts wandered. Why do I allow that woman to irritate me so?
Colonel Long arrived at the president’s office. Guards snapped to attention and greeted him with a brisk salute. He returned their salute with a crisp, precise motion then strode into the reception room.
The woman behind the desk stood and bowed. “He will see you now.”
Without looking in her direction, he held up his hand like a shield blocking her existence and walked through the door.
Two men in expensive suits sat at the president’s desk. One was tall with long, white hair. A high-ranking man from the Ministry of Science and Technology, the colonel recalled. The other he knew well. Yang Kai, Minister of State Security. The colonel formally greeted the president and the two visitors.
“Colonel Long, it is unfortunate that I had to pull you away from your duties so hastily. However, I suspect you will agree the urgency is warranted.” He waved for the colonel to sit. “Director Zhou,” he said to the tall man, “would you kindly tell the gentlemen what you just told me?”
The Director sat straight, a wide grin adorning his ruddy face. “Yes, of course, President Li. You see, we considered the possibility that the-”
The office door opened. The assistant entered, carrying a tea tray.
Colonel Long arched his eyebrows and glanced at the president’s self-levitating teapot.
“Ah, colonel.” The president gestured toward the pot. “This marvel of Chinese engineering is still an early prototype. It is only capable of one path of movement. Perhaps the next generation.”
The woman efficiently served tea. A sweet, floral fragrance blended with the room’s aroma of vanilla and tobacco. She retreated to the reception area.
“As I was saying,” the tall man continued, “we considered the possibility the Americans are secretly building a ship with capabilities far greater than their current generation. From that assumption, we explored uses and destinations for such a ship. One possibility was Jupiter. We focused our attention there and made a remarkable discovery. There is a rather unusual radio signal originating from low Jupiter orbit. The signal is certainly artificial.”
“Artificial?” The colonel asked, his voice gruff.
“Yes, it’s sending out pulses that unmistakably describe fundamental physical properties. They signal the ratio of a proton to an electron to a neutron.”
“A scientific satellite or beacon. The Americans have been studying Jupiter of late.”
Minister Yang sipped his tea. “Their recent missions involve nanosats. The power of this transmission, while not overwhelming, is much stronger than such satellites can produce. We have full details on the NASA efforts near Jupiter thanks to our intelligence operations. Nothing from that mission can generate such a signal.”
“Is that so?” The colonel’s eyes narrowed. “It must be a deception. A decoy. Perhaps the Americans placed a transmitter in orbit around Jupiter. When the Russians placed Sputnik in Earth orbit nearly a century ago, it terrified the Americans. They may aim to terrify us.”
“I don’t believe-” the tall man started.
“Colonel,” the president said, raising an apologetic hand, “that is a possibility we should consider. However, the Americans are up to something. Perhaps it has nothing to do with Jupiter, and the signal is indeed a deception. If Jupiter is their true goal, though, the implications could be enormous.”
Interrupting a Minister? Colonel Long thought. That’s not like him. He leaned forward and his eyes narrowed. “Implications? What do you think it is?”
“The signal is not ours. If it is also not American, what else could it be? No other nation could place something in Jupiter orbit without us knowing about it.”
“Are you are suggesting it’s an alien signal?” The colonel’s brow set rigidly.
“What else could it be?” the president repeated. “Perhaps it is a deception as you suggest. We need more information. At the same time, we must proceed under the assumption the signal is alien and develop a plan to get there first.”
The tall man set a paper-thin holographic generator on the table and projected the inner solar system over the president’s zitan desk. Jupiter hovered in the office doorway. “We can redirect some of the high-speed microprobes we’re building on Ceres.” He gestured to a holographic speck over Colonel Long’s teacup. “The probes are designed to search for mineral-rich asteroids, but we can remotely reprogram the assembler to make them more suitable for exploring this signal. They could provide us with additional information in a matter of days.”
“Hmm.” President Li contemplated the suggestion. “Have we learned anything from our clandestine activities?”
Yang Kai set down his teacup. “Our digital efforts have turned up nothing related to this matter. However, NASA assembled a new crew, one we cannot correlate to any known, scheduled launch.”
“How do you know this?” Colonel Long asked.
“Human sources.”
The colonel nodded.
“One of the crew is Dr. Okoye,” Yang Kai said. “He’s a venerable, respected scientist, not an astronaut. Another crew member has a weakness we may be able to exploit. I began preparations to turn him this morning.”
President Li pulled a cigar from a cedar box on his desk. “We have two avenues of inquiry. We shall redirect a microprobe and explore this human intelligence option. I expect daily reports.” He cut the foot of his Great Wall Cigar No. 5, lit a match, and held the flame an inch under the tobacco. He puffed, rotating the cigar until the tip glowed. President Li blew out a cloud of smoke and said, “This signal from Jupiter may be nothing, or it may be everything. Each of you shall act as if the future of China depends on your actions.”
#
Ian Weems sat on a wooden bench on the University of Texas at Austin campus, a NASA cap pulled over his eyes. He wore loose-fitting pants, an overly-expensive dress shirt, and a khaki cotton jacket. His gold astronaut’s lapel pin with a ruby in the star, the device given to crew that flew a Mars mission, adorned the jacket. Ian was proud to be an astronaut. It didn’t hurt book sales either to be recognized as one. Back when he was a best-selling author, at least. His bench was painted rainbow hues, matching the many eclectic students that milled about. The Texas sun beat down on thick grass that seemed ready to wither in the unseasonal heat. A round fountain hurled rhythmic jets of water high into the parched air. Not the slightest hint of breeze disturbed the scattered cedars and oaks that afforded shade to several seating areas. The bench Ian selected was not shaded.
A Chinese man, dressed with the awkward formality one might expect from a visiting professor, approached along a circular, concrete path. He sat at the far end of Ian’s bench, his body turned away. “You watch too many ancient spy movies,” the man said in a quiet voice.
Ian’s attention was elsewhere. He flinched in response to an unseen stimulus, then dodged a fraction of a centimeter. “Dang,” he said to himse
lf, mildly disappointed. Louder, he continued, “You’re early. I was finishing up a game.”
The Chinese man shook his head and forced an ugly laugh. “Isn’t that how we come to be here in the first place? Your love of games?”
“Not a card game. A combat sim. I was winning.”
“Ah. I see.” The man was silent for a moment, then waved vaguely toward the fountain. “It’s much safer to use quantum encrypted communication than to meet here, in person.”
“You want something from me, you play by my rules. Anyhow, Austin’s beautiful this time of year. I work with the alumni association, so the trip was easy enough to explain. It’s invigorating to spend time outdoors, don’t you think? To feel the sun’s warmth on your skin?”
The Chinese man mopped his brow with a neatly folded bandanna, the kind you get at an airport gift shop. “Invigorating? It’s hot.”
Ian sipped a large, iced lemonade. “Nothing wrong with a dose of sunshine. I’m glad it warmed up a bit. It’s usually a lot cooler this time of year.”
The Chinese man pulled a small device from his shirt pocket. “Since you insist on going old school.” The man set the device on the bench between them. “No electromagnetic emissions. No lased light sources. You know, I had to ask around quite a bit to learn precautions for such a meeting. Discretely, of course.”
“Of course.”
Fresh beads of sweat dotted the man’s brow. “As I mentioned in my communication yesterday, my employer tasked me with collecting your rather sizable gambling debt.”
“Poker debt.”
“Yes, you gambled at poker and lost. Substantially, in fact.” He pushed out a hideous, self-satisfied laugh.
“Poker isn’t a gambling game, at least not if you play it right. It’s a game of skill, influenced by short-term luck.”
“Be that as it may.” The Chinese man dabbed his forehead again. “You owe $602,150 to Huang Entertainment and Casinos.”
“I took out a loan from an American casino in Atlantic City. I don’t play at Chinese casinos.” He took another sip and savored the icy coldness of his beverage. “No offense.”