• • • •
CPU Mark#7 was the latest and apparently the last version, performing up to all specifications in every way it was tested. The delta difference in quantum processor transfer rates for the subroutines involving the use of magic was finally resolved, the maximum difference now less than 0.7%. Close enough for government work, as they used to say at Edwards Air Force Base about a dozen times a day.
After conducting all the tests and checks that they could think of running, Daneel had moved into the new quantum computer, declaring it superior to the old one in several different ways. However, just to be sure, Paul had him run several additional benchmark tests.
“Everything’s great, Dad!” Daneel declared. “I’ve run her around the block several times now and she purrs like a kitten.”
“Mixed metaphor there, son,” Paul noted with a touch of irony. “Have you checked the software patch against the hardware mods?”
“Yep, a dozen times so far. Every run was well within tolerance. Dad, I’m ready to try the warp drive now. If you and Merlin would do the honors, I’d really like to get my magical powers now, pretty please?’
Paul frowned and scratched an ear. “I can’t think of a reason not to, I guess. Before we do, I want you to make two backups of yourself, okay?”
“No sweat. Give me a few minutes and I’ll have it right as rain.”
“Go easy on the clichés, son, if you please. While you are working on the backups, I’ll call on Merlin and brief him on what we want.”
“Paul?”
He turned around and found Capie emerging from a portal looking very distraught.
“What’s wrong, honey?” he asked, suddenly very concerned.
“Paul, I…” was all she could say. With a snap of her fingers, a display appeared in midair. A blond haired reporter in a long white sleeve shirt with dust and soot on his face was talking.
“It’s hard to say how many dead there are here, Michelle,” he was saying, microphone in hand. “As you know, Yom Kippur is one of their most sacred holidays here in Israel. Lots of people in the synagogues. So far, there have been confirmed reports of attacks on at least twelve of those synagogues, seven in Jerusalem, three in Tel Aviv, one in Haifa. In one case, there was a report of an SUV driving down the street with bombs being thrown out the windows at people entering a neighborhood synagogue. The situation here in Jerusalem is one of total confusion, mostly because of the holiday. The death toll might well be in the thousands, certainly in the hundreds. We won’t know what the final count will be, Michelle, until the Israeli government gains control of the situation here.”
Capie waved away the display. “Paul, we just have to do something.”
Paul nodded. “We’re working as fast as we can. In another few hours or so, we will have Daneel up and running as a Scottie. In a little over a week we will finish the work on the Sirius Effort. And in the same week, you’ll have conversions done on all the isotopes, and we’ll be ready to hold the chutzpah ceremony.”
“A week!”
“It would have taken even longer than that without your work on improving the conversion process, making it both more efficient and faster.”
“I hear what you are saying but…”
He drew her into his arms. “We can only do what we can do. Our magical powers do not make us gods.”
“If Israel still exists in a week…” she muttered.
“Dad,” Daneel interrupted quietly. “I’m ready whenever you are.”
“Merlin?” Paul said, pulling back from Capie. “We need you.”
• • • •
“Care for a drop of Bundy?” Patrick McNamee asked, holding forth a tall dark bottle with a red label.
“Thanks,” replied McDougall, watching as Patrick poured half a small glass with rum and then levitated the tumbler through the air over to his ‘guest.’
They were sitting in a magnificently furnished library in Patrick’s mansion not far from Canberra, Australia.
McDougall used a small spell to chill the liquid in the glass to his favorite temperature of 41 degrees Fahrenheit. Swirling the dark liquid in circles, he watched the dance of the reflections from the room lights twinkle on its surface.
Then he took a sip.
“Good stuff,” he commented with appreciation as he leaned back in his seat.
Patrick grinned and poured himself a glass of the dark liquor as well. “So the rumor is true blue, aye? There’s a new wizard running around, a cheeky bloke and as cunning as a dunny rat. And he cadged your talisman and he’s back of beyond, somewhere here in Oz.”
“A little east of Perth, we think,” answered McDougall, after another sip of his drink. “I don’t know what he is up to out in the outback, but he’s using a lot of magical energy to move things around and perform a few spells I don’t understand. But there’s no denying that he is there.” McDougall looked up at his host. “With the levels he using, I’m a little surprised that you didn’t notice.”
Patrick shrugged nonchalantly. “You know how it is. The Normies here are dongos. I’ve been as busy here in Canberra as Bourke Street during the rush hour keeping them under control.” He glared down into his glass. “And Perth is over 3,100 kilometers distant. Australia’s a mite big to watch everything all the time.” After a brief pause, he continued. “What do you need from me, other than my permission? And at least a half dozen Oni to help you, of course.”
McDougall smiled. “To help keep me honest, you mean, while I’m in your territory.” But he held up a hand to forestall any objections. “I’ll take them, of course. This will be short and sweet. We will move in fast, surround Armstead and take him captive. A few hours at best and I’ll be out of your hair.”
Patrick held up his now empty glass. “Let’s have another and toast your success.”
• • • •
Very early Friday morning in the Gulf of Hormuz, an hour before sunrise, Iran raised the stakes of the game, firing two anti-ship Kowsar medium range missiles from Lesser Tunb Island just west of the Strait. The first missile scored a direct hit amid-ships of an escort—the one hundred and ten foot Island Class Patrol Boat, the US Coast Guard Cutter Monomoy—which sank within two minutes. The second one hit the 1,243 foot long Belgium registered Very Large Crude Carrier Ti Europe, carrying nearly 3.2 million barrels of oil. Impact was on the tanker’s starboard stern quarter. Leaking and on fire, her captain turned her south southeast in an effort to make Dubai.
She nearly made it, the crew abandoning ship to be picked up by three corvettes of the United Arab Emirates Navy two hours after sunrise.
Of the crew of the Monomoy, fourteen died and two survived, but the survivors were picked up by an Iranian patrol boat.
Mere hours after the attack in the Strait, Hamas and the Army of Islam in Gaza began firing volleys of Qassam rockets into southern Israel while Hezbollah launched Katyusha rockets from Lebanon. And then Syria and ISIL launched BM-21 Grads and longer ranged tactical ballistic Fateh-110 missiles at more specific targets in northern Israel.
The attacks, coordinated by cell phones, went on for more than half an hour before the launchers scurried for cover from retaliation by Israeli F-16s.
Guidance systems for all of the rockets and missiles used in the attacks were notoriously inaccurate (though the Fateh-110’s performed the best). But enough hit a target and killed a sufficient number of civilians to spread terror and more panic through the Israeli civilian population.
• • • •
Friday evening, Paul and Daneel were waiting in their room at the Comfort Inn Bay when Capie finished work for the day. She portaled in and dropped the komatiite rock on the small desk and fell full length backwards onto her bed.
“Well, what a surprise, to see the two of you home so early,” she muttered, suppressing a yawn. “I thought the two of you would still be working on—what version was it? Oh, yeah, number 7. So, how did it go?”
On his monitor display, Daneel laughed.
Without warning, a full sized holographic image of the young man appeared in the middle of the room between the two beds. Capie’s mouth dropped open in surprise as the image of the Scottie flashed his arms back and forth, abruptly coming to a halt and holding up a large manila envelope.
“Nothing up my sleeves,” he proudly boasted, then opened one end of the envelope and blew into it, hard. The envelope expanded, now forming a cardboard box roughly an inch thick. Daneel unfolded the top, reached in with one hand and pulled forth a perfectly round bowling ball, smacking it on one side to show how substantial and ‘real’ that it was.
He grinned. “I saw this on an episode of “The Carbonaro Effect.” Pretty good trick, heh?”
Capie was up and off the bed in a single bounce, reaching out to ‘hug’ the hologram. When that didn’t work, she turned and hugged the LCD monitor instead.
“You’ve done it!” she shrieked. “You’ve got magical powers now! Let’s celebrate! Daneel, where would you like to go?”
There wasn’t a moment of hesitation on Daneel’s part. “Bungee jumping!”
• • • •
Saturday morning arrived. The sun was out, the temperatures were mild and there was a real feel of spring in the air.
Capie noticed and appreciated the beautiful day since, according to her best estimate, in the next day or so she would be finished with the conversions of all the elements in the komatiite rock. The conversions on the emerald isotopes had been completed over a week ago, that crystal now stored alongside of the tantalum block at the open pit mine.
By contrast, Paul hadn’t noticed the weather, so focused was he on the tasks that he wanted to accomplish that day. He’d left Esperance after sharing a very nice breakfast with Capie at the Dome Café Esperance, just as the sun was rising. From there he went straight by way of portal to the Staging Area. He was most anxious to continue the loading of the now completed spacecraft. Despite his earlier attempt to move everything from Warehouse 13, there were still some supplies remaining.
For the most part, he had finished loading all of their personal items, minus what was still at the hotel, into Decks 2 and 3, which were the living and sleeping quarters. Today, his plan was to finish transferring all of the Warehouse 13 supplies—most especially the barrels of lithium chlorate salts into the ship’s fuel tank—and then all the remaining items to the storage room he had created in one wall of the open pit mine. In the next couple of days, he would then finish loading all the food supplies, tools, gear, furniture, sporting goods, and everything else they were taking with them as well.
At that point, the one major task that would be left was to add the water for the fuel tank. That would take a couple of hours to filter it from the ocean water and portal it into the tank. Almost 3,000 gallons of water. It was a lot to process and store on board, a tedious but not all that difficult a task.
So, yes, there was lots of work to do. And with all the terrorist and military attacks by Arab countries around Israel, both he and Capie were feeling the urgency of their tasks. True, the chutzpah would be of the most value in stopping what the whole world believed would be a full scale war. But the Sirius Effort would be quite useful too, even if it wasn’t armed.
In the past few days, he had noted the sudden appearance of a large number of contrails in the upper atmosphere, due to increased activity of the Australian Air Force. All across the globe, military forces were at a heightened alert status. The last thing that Paul wanted at this stage was for some sharp eagled-eyed Australian pilot to see something at the Staging Area and report it. From now on, Paul would ask Merlin to keep a weather eye out for trouble, just in case the WA authorities came nosing around.
• • • •
“Are you sure that this is such a good idea?” asked Firefighter Shaun Kirk as he studied the large commercial building in front of him.
“No, I’m not,” replied Constable Lucas Colston, age 33, of the Kalgoorlie District Police. “But then it wasn’t my idea, now was it, mate? It was the Inspector that came up with this one, he did. The Neumanns up and disappeared several days ago, no one knows where. That reporter, what’s his name, filed assault charges. And the Inspector found those records for that chemical—”
“Lithium chlorate,” said Shaun, with a grin.
“Yeah, that stuff. So, on that evidence, we are here to perform an inspection, to see if there are dangerous chemicals stored here and also to look for other proof.”
Lucas reached out to grasp a padlock and insert one of his special keys.
“Proof of what?” asked Shaun, perplexed.
“How should I know, aye?” shot back Lucas. “Foul play? Terrorism? A heist? The Inspector was less than clear on that, but you know how he is.”
The padlock snicked open and Lucas grinned smugly at his cohort. “You find the lights. I’ll sweep for the proof the Inspector wants.”
Entering the building cautiously, Shaun quickly found the wall switch and snapped on the lights. But it took mere moments to realize that there was almost nothing in the building. Some power and hand tools on a work bench against the back wall. Several brown 55 gallon drums with snap-on lids. And quite a few empty boxes, all collapsed and piled up in the middle of the floor.
Lucas was more than a little disappointed. He’d been half expecting to find the Neumanns here—or at least their dead bodies.
Shaun pointed at the barrels. “There’s your lithium chlorate, they are,” he said, dropping to one knee to examine the barrels closely along with the hazardous labels. “They’re not leaking or damaged either. Still, the Neumann’s don’t have a permit to store chemicals here.”
“Is the stuff dangerous?” Lucas asked, poking around on the tool bench.
“Kind of a poor time to ask, hey mate?” Shaun responded with a chuckle. “Not overly so. You need a chemical mask not to breathe it, and gloves to work with it. Oh, and keep the fumes out of your eyes. And don’t swallow any of it. What else? Oh, yeah, if it’s mixed with sulfur, reactive metals, or some organics, it can become explosive. Other than that, it’s as safe as being in your momma’s arms.”
“Laugh a minute, you are, mate,” muttered Lucas, turning back toward Shaun. “So the Neumann’s might be terrorists, making a bomb…Hey, what was that?!” he yelled.
Shaun too had noticed a bright flash of light reflecting off the metal lip of the barrel in front of him. He spun around—
But there was only empty building behind him. Just floor and—
“Wait a mo—wasn’t there another barrel over there?” he asked, pointing to a now empty spot next to two other barrels. “I counted ten barrels here when we walked in. Now there’s only nine.”
“I didn’t count them,” admitted Lucas reluctantly. “But if you’re right, where’d it go? There’s been no one…oh…oh…!”
In front of both men, a portal opened up, a little larger than the barrels. It swept forward, missing Shaun by two feet to engulf one of the barrels. And just like that, both the portal and the barrel were gone.
“What the blazes was that?” shouted Shaun, backing away rapidly, on a beeline for the door.
“Eight barrels of chem on the floor, eight barrels of chem…,” Lucas hummed the old tune anxiously, the hair rising on the back of his neck. “Take one off, pass it along…” He snapped the clip off of his sidearm and drew it.
Another portal snapped open, floating forth to snag another barrel, and it too flashed out of existence.
“I don’t know…lookout! Behind you!” shouted Lucas.
Another portal, much larger than the others, opened into the room. Through it stepped McDougall and two Oni.
Lucas and Shaun both folded up like little rag dolls, fast asleep before they even hit the floor.
“Normies! Humph! Ignore them. Follow the portals and find out where they lead!” shouted McDougall, as he put his hands on his hips.
Another portal popped into existence, gulping up another barrel.
McDougall gri
nned. This was almost too easy.
SECTION V
EXODUS
THIRTY
Limpet Rock
East of Esperance, Western Australia
October
Saturday 11:14 a.m. AWST
“Do you see it there?” asked Capie, using a small spell to enlarge a particular part of the display hanging in front of her and Daneel.
“NP. No problem, Mom. So you’re interweaving the iron atoms with the oxygen in the komatiite using the 4-D Man spell that Dad told me about.”
“It cuts down on the distance the neutrons need to move and the energy transitional states too.”
“Fearsome, Mom. Can I try?”
“Go for it.”
On the LCD screen, Daneel closed his eyes, reaching a hand forward. “Ah, like that, heh?”
In the display, magnified millions of times, clouds of neutrons were making the short leap from the nucleus of the iron atoms and impacting with the oxygen nuclei.
They were standing near the eastern edge of Limpet Island, working on the last of the isotope conversions of the komatiite rock, changing the isotopes of oxygen 16 atoms to oxygen 17. Capie had already finished conversion of the silicon, iron, nickel, and magnesium atoms.
“Hmm, have you considered manipulating the quark structure of the neutrons?” Daneel asked, opening his eyes.
Capie blinked at him. “The what? Son, that’s a Dad question if ever I’ve heard one.”
Daneel looked thoughtful. “I wonder if it might be possible to move the component quarks as quasiparticles inside the solid matrix. Interesting thought, that. I’ll have to look into the math, to see if it’s even theoretically possible.”
Staring at him in stunned disbelief, Capie felt a shiver run up her spine. “Theoretical math? Since when have you been interested in complex math?”
Daneel laughed. “Mom, I’m a computer, remember? I’ll have to ask Dad about it. It might not speed up the process but it might make it more energy efficient. Maybe.”
Orders of Magnitude (The Genie and the Engineer Series Book 2) Page 37