by Needles, Dan
She was impressed. Although intimate with the latest trends in the industry, she had not seen anything with this much detail. She crossed the lobby, passing a large fountain. Allison smiled. Not everything about Ron’s tastes was impeccable. The fountain looked like something Steve would have picked out.
Beyond the fountain a woman behind a counter asked, “May I help you?”
Allison approached the counter. “I’m looking for a friend of mine, Ron Fisher. Is he here?”
“No, he’s not. Would you like me to page him?”
“No, that’s alright. Would you check to see if an alias named Syzygy is here?”
The woman scanned a book in front of her. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see anyone here registered with that alias or name.”
“Really?” Allison knew Syzygy had to be there. He could not have left in the last couple of minutes after having been logged on for almost a week. “Maybe he’s using a different alias. How big is your Directory?” Allison asked.
“Twenty names.”
“Could you read them to me?”
“Certainly.” The receptionist rattled off the names and aliases of the people logged onto the site.
Allison shook her head. Syzygy was not listed. “Could you page Ron? It’s urgent. I think someone has tampered with this site.”
“One moment. I’ll …,” The woman vanished suddenly.
“What happened?” Allison wondered.
Whoosh.
Allison turned. A man with a runner’s build, blond hair, and blue eyes stepped through a portal.
Ron.
“Were you looking for me?”
“I’m glad I caught you.” She walked to him.
Ron smiled.
“I think Syzygy is logged onto your site. That’s why the hackers thrashed your lobby.”
Ron smirked. “I know.”
“You do?” Ron carried himself differently. Her gut screamed, “Run!” but she stood her ground. “What do you mean, you know?”
Click.
Ron stepped closer and Allison backed away. It didn’t feel right. She pressed her portal button. Nothing happened. She looked down and made sure she had pressed the right button. She tried again. Nothing happened. Looking up, Ron was inches from her face. She let out a scream and stumbled back.
His gaze bored into her, ripped into her soul.
Allison took a deep breath and pressed the exit button. Again, nothing happened.
“I’m sorry, but I’m experiencing some trouble with my Nexus,” she stammered, trying to remain calm.
Ron silently regarded her with his tenacious gaze. She backed away from him slowly. Something like a metallic whine sounded behind her. She tripped backwards through a portal and fell onto wet sand.
Allison looked around. A beach. Ron transformed into a dark figure with green eyes. Her heart raced. Her mind lost focus. Warmth built in her head.
Oh shit! Ron is Syzygy.
She scrambled to her feet.
He smiled and then let the corners of his mouth dip into a frown. Syzygy took a step toward her.
She turned and ran. After reaching the water, she ran along the shoreline where the sand was firm. She stole a glance back and then stopped. He wasn’t running. Instead, he sauntered slowly toward her.
Then it hit. A thousand needles of pain etched themselves into her brain and she fell.
“Damn it!” she said, trying to get up, but it was no use. She fought the pain and managed to crawl forward a few feet. She heard his feet slapping against the wet sand. He was close.
Allison clutched her head and moaned. Everything faded and grew dim.
“Help, Steve!” she screamed.
42
I thought you said that one fighter wasn’t a problem!” Ed said, his eyes fixed on the moving pink light on the map.
“He isn’t, unless he intends to start a war,” Admiral Marshall Spurrier said.
Abruptly, the map blossomed with light, blanketed with new pink blips. The red blip, representing the Chinese fighter, shifted to pink, lost in the constellation of light. The label above it disappeared.
“She’s a screamer,” another analyst shouted.
The Admiral sighed in relief. “False alarm. They launched a decoy missile. The missile just separated into twenty smaller missiles. Each one appears to our radar as another Chinese fighter. The Chinese fighter is hiding within the cluster.”
“For what purpose?”
The Admiral turned to Ed. “They’re testing our defenses. We can’t hit what we can’t see. If they learn a way to hide from Warscape, we will be susceptible to a real attack. Then they’ll strike.”
Ed nodded soberly.
“It’s no big deal. They did this once before—last week. It’ll just take a second for Warscape to cross-reference the sensors in the area.” Sure enough, within a few seconds, the blips started to disappear from the map.
“See what I mean?” the Admiral said. After half a minute only one pink blip remained. It shifted back to red and the label reappeared.
“Now, watch. One of our F-18X fighters will turn this guy around.”
On routine patrol, Michael Dawson flew at thirty thousand feet, near the Paracel Islands in the South China Sea.
Quiet afternoon, he thought. Then he shook his head. Don’t get complacent, Michael. Keep your eyes open. Listen to the radio. You never know. He turned back to the video screens, gauges, and meters that filled the cockpit of his highly customized F-18X Hornet. Suddenly his radio crackled and came to life.
“Sierra one-two-niner, Sierra one-two-niner, bandit at Lanky, one hundred and twenty, one zero zero, thirty angels.”
The control center used a technique called bull’s-eye control. It referenced everything around a single, well-known point called a bull’s-eye. Control would give the position of the enemy aircraft, called a bandit, from the bull’s-eye. The position would specify the degrees off due north of the enemy aircraft, providing the range in miles and the altitude in thousands of feet called angels.
Lanky was the code name for the aircraft carrier displayed on his screen.
“Roger that, Command. Sierra one-two-niner in pursuit.” Michael Dawson banked left, turning the plane. He toggled the radar switch on and off.
The radar sent out several short bursts of energy, lasting no longer than a microsecond. These invisible flashes swept the sky in front of the plane, changing frequencies each time in case the enemy was listening. At the speed of light, the energy radiated out and bounced off its target before returning to the plane’s radar. The radar then sent out one more quick burst of energy to the target.
The radar used the fighter’s onboard computer to compare the two signals. It detected the slight change in aperture to the Chinese fighter and constructed a 3D image of the enemy plane. It then compared this image to a list of known aircraft. Instantly, the computer determined the make of the aircraft: a Chinese Fighter called an SU-27 Flanker. A red blip appeared on Michael’s radar screen along with this information. The entire operation was completed in less than a tenth of a second.
Michael noted the enemy’s course, displayed on the radar screen. He adjusted his heading accordingly, planning for an intercept. The Chinese fighter inched along at about six hundred miles an hour.
No need to waste fuel by using afterburners to catch this guy. He eased the throttle right against the stops. Cruising just under Mach One, at around seven hundred miles an hour, Michael glanced around. The tiniest spec in the sky, the subtlest hint, could be a missile or worse. Late afternoon, he still had good visibility, twenty miles at least, but he saw nothing.
Michael debated whether to tickle his radar again to pinpoint the Chinese fighter’s exact location. Perhaps the Chinese fighter had changed course. Michael shook his head. No, be patient. Even with the advanced radar system, the enemy still might detect an energy burst. Michael wanted surprise on his side. He would rely on his good old eyesight to spot the Chinese fighter.
&
nbsp; There! He found his target, about twelve miles ahead and five thousand feet below him. He descended like a hawk, using gravity to accelerate past Mach One. The plane slipped smoothly through the sound barrier. Carefully, Michael pulled up behind the Chinese fighter. He then flipped his weapon console and immediately obtained missile lock.
The Flanker dipped for an instant, obviously surprised.
Michael grinned. He almost could taste the pilot’s anxiety. Nothing said good morning like the tone from a missile lock. Michael keyed his radio.
“You … in the Flanker … this is the United States Navy. We are operating under the authority of the ASEAN command. Please turn your aircraft around and return to Woody Island.”
Michael waited for a couple of seconds.
No response.
Cocky son-of-a-bitch! He keyed his radio again. “Flanker, you are in violation of International Law and the Chinese War Treaty. Please turn your aircraft around or you will be fired upon.”
Again, silence.
Michael glanced at his gauges—only one hundred miles to the U.S.S. Elliot, the outermost ship in the carrier battle group. Within minutes, the Flanker’s long-range missiles would be in range of the carrier. “Command, this is Sierra one-two-niner. Bandit refuses to yield, over.”
“Sierra one-two-niner, go weapons hot, but make it clean.”
“Roger, Command.” Michael could not believe it. The Chinese fighter did not even flinch. The pilot thinks I won’t shoot him down! Well, I guess he’s half right.
With a flick of his finger, Michael lifted the guard and threw a switch, arming the HERF gun, a High-Energy Radio Frequency weapon. Michael checked the status light. It was red, charged, and ready. He squeezed the trigger, holding it down.
The gun bathed the Flanker in a burst of invisible but intense radio waves, the same energy used by the radio but much, much stronger. Michael imaged the Chinese fighter’s radio going off the air and its cockpit lighting up as every warning light came on. He held the trigger tightly. By now, the fighter must have suffered catastrophic and complete systems failure as every piece of electronic hardware in his plane went dead. Navigation, communication, and weapons would all be down. Michael watched as the Chinese fighter’s engines sputtered to a stop. Its nose dipped toward the earth.
He let go of the trigger. The trigger guard automatically snapped shut. Michael watched as the Chinese fighter appeared to creep toward him, an illusion caused as the Flanker slowed relative to him.
Gently at first, the Chinese fighter descended. Soon it picked up speed and plummeted nose first into the ocean below. Michael waited until the Flanker hit the water before keying his radio.
“Command, splash one bandit, apparent total systems failure. Imagine that!” Michael grinned.
“Copy that, Sierra one-two-niner. Any survivors?”
“Negative. That’s a negative. Pilot failed to eject.”
In Warscape, the red blip disappeared from the map.
“Is it gone?” Ed Davis asked.
“Yes, he’s gone.” The Admiral frowned. What are the Chinese doing? That’s the second test of their defenses in a week.
The Chinese were not usually this rash. They are up to something, he thought.
43
TO: Steve Donovan
FROM: Allison Hwang
SUBJECT: No recall
Steve,
Davis found out about Syzygy, fired me, and has refused to issue the recall order. He didn’t tell me why. I think I told you my mother is a reporter. I’m going to use her as a resource to try to track down Syzygy.
Hope your day is going better than mine.
Love,
Allison
Steve read Allison’ message again. Opening a portal to DARPA, Steve stepped through. It was pitch black except for a narrow lit path. He followed it. After a few feet, a large chamber to his left lit up. Inside a cave, honed from granite, stood a bank of holograms. Stacked twenty holograms tall and at least forty holograms wide, the bank created a wall of movement and sound, each individual image displaying a dark recess of the Internet. Before this wall, an army of analysts watched the images and took notes.
Show and tell, tax dollars on display, Steve thought.
After ten feet the chamber turned dark. The path ended at a six-foot wide hexagon with DARPA’s logo etched into the center of it. Stepping onto the logo, rose quartz walls materialized around him. Each one displayed a living mural. One contained a group of business people.
Steve found Ed Davis in the picture and touched his face.
An automated secretary answered. “State your name and business.”
“Steve Donovan, Nexus recall.”
“One moment, please. Mr. Davis is currently offline. I will page him for you.”
A few minutes later, the wall he touched disappeared, opening into a porcelain-looking room. Rounded edges connected the bleach-white walls, floor, and ceiling. In the center of the room, Ed Davis sat behind a desk. He stood and extended his hand. “Hello, Mr. Donovan.”
Steve shook it.
“I was hoping Vinnie could meet us, but he’s not available.”
“Vinnie Russo?” Steve said, taking a seat.
“That’s right.” Ed said, sitting down.
Steve nodded. “We need to issue a recall.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It’s not? Five people are dead.”
Ed ran a hand across his graying goatee. “I’m going to be honest with you. Allison Hwang kept me in the dark. I only learned about everything this morning.”
“I don’t understand. How does that change anything?”
“There are things you’re not privy to. You do not have the big picture here.”
“Five people are dead. Whatever else …”
“There’s more at stake here than a few innocent victims.” He sighed. “It’s a misconception that people at the top are free to do what they want. There’s actually less freedom up here to make the right decision. Circumstances and alliances determine most of my decisions before I’m even aware of them.
“Compromise and diplomacy is the name of the game. You’re still young, but Winston Churchill put it best: If a man is not a liberal at eighteen, he has no heart. If he is not a conservative by the time he is thirty-five, he has no mind.” Ed laughed.
“What’s your point?”
He leveled a finger at Steve. “My point, young man, is that the President decided to keep this quiet. Anything that compromises the Warscape system, including your Nexus Transporter, is to be kept a secret. At least for the next two weeks until the hardware fix is available.”
“Why?”
Ed sighed. “Where should I start? Do you remember Desert Storm?”
Steve shrugged.
“The numbers escape me now. I think the Iraqis outnumbered us on the ground ten to one; yet we whomped them. Do you know why?” Ed paused. “Air superiority and superior information. We found and stuck them first before they could move into range.”
Steve shifted in his chair.
“They used Soviet weaponry, supplied by the Chinese. When the Iraqis lost, the Chinese took notice. You see, up until then the Chinese won wars by attrition. They thought that if they threw enough men and weaponry into battle, they would win. Desert storm changed their perception. You know what they learned?”
Steve shrugged.
“It’s all about seeming and being, appearance and reality, truth and lies; in a word, surprise. And surprise depends on information, having a better understanding of the battlefield than your opponent does.
“In the China War, the Chinese discovered information was more important than air superiority. Now, our cold war is based on information, and that is based on military intelligence. Our most important source of tactical intelligence is embodied in DARPA’s Warscape.
“Warscape is a complete map of the battlefield. Every building, piece of equipment, and man in the U.S. armed forces is outfitted with a G
PS unit. At all times the Unified Command knows where their forces are. We monitor the enemy using surveillance satellites, radar, sonobuoys, and unmanned vehicles on land, under the sea, and in the air. Yet, without a way to see and integrate the data, Warscape was useless. Allison Hwang contacted Austin Wheeler. In exchange for eighty-two million dollars in covert weapons sales, he gave us the technical schematics to the Nexus.”
Steve’s mouth dropped open. “How much?”
“Eighty-two million.”
“So let me get this straight. Austin got millions in exchange for my Nexus design and I’m supposed to be happy because it’s for the good of the country?”
Ed shook his head. “It’s also what saved your company. Why do you think we approved the Nexus prematurely? It wasn’t for altruistic reasons, I assure you. It was part of the deal Allison made with Austin.
“I don’t understand. You haven’t said anything that would prevent us from alerting the public about Syzygy?”
Ed sighed. “Think, Steve! It’s our eyes and ears now. If the Chinese find out what Syzygy knows, they could take out Warscape. We would be blind. That’s why we cannot go public, at least not until the fix is available.”
“What if the Chinese are behind Syzygy?”
“If so, we’re screwed anyway, but we don’t think this is the case. The PLA, China’s military, wouldn’t sit around like this. It’s much more likely that Syzygy is a terrorist organization.”
“So for the next few days you’re just going to let people die?”
“It’s a choice between a few more victims or our national security. As I told you, circumstances have already made our decision for us.”