Twisted Spaces: 1 / Destination Mars

by E. N. Abel

  ''A blood-guilt. You owe them.''

  ''Naa. That was the really weird part: they said it was payback,'' the Colonel replied, ''Payback for something my kids had done for them a few weeks earlier. Don't know what, but boy, they were serious. Their boss was this lieutenant, a blonde guy. Blonde with blue eyes.''

  ''MacMillan?'' Kaiser's mouth dropped open. ''The man from the video?''

  ''Should have recognised him right away, but back then he was covered with grit and blood, dirty as a pig's pen. A pistol in the left - small Glock if I remember correctly - and a genuine battle-axe in the right. Even had little horns glued to his helmet - can you believe it?'' He laughed out. ''Psy war items, to scare the natives: depicting a Viking warrior back from the dead, complete with sword and shield. Shot a fucking insurgent right off me, killed another one by throwing that damn axe - just like you see in the movies.'' He paused, moved, remembering. ''Scared the shit out of the Taliban. But the scar on his cheek - he didn't have that then; must have gotten it later.'' Then, looking at Kaiser: ''Who would expect someone like that turning up again in a story like this?''

  ''What else can you tell me?''

  ''Marcel was in their spaceship, a fifteen meter sphere. Test-drove it a bit. Says it's ready for take-off, just short of ...''

  ''Energy.''

  ''Yes, antimatter,'' the Colonel confirmed.

  ''How do you know all this? You know we are being closely watched, and our communication most likely is compromised.''

  Leclerc pulled a little green box from his pocket, put it on the desk. ''A quantum communicator. Present from MacMillan.''

  Kaiser eyed the device suspiciously: ''How did you get it?''

  ''House delivery by Quadricopter. Tuesday last week.''

  ''And?''

  ''Marcel called me on it. Gave all the right pass-phrases, you know, the ones for 'I'm unthreatened', 'all secure', 'this message is genuine', that sort of thing. Then told me what he had found at their place.'' Leclerc carefully avoided naming the location. ''Marcel asked me to prepare phase two.''

  ''Get the antimatter?''

  ''No, inaugurating you and ask permission.''

  ''What else?''

  ''Ralf,'' Leclerc said in a very sober tone, putting his hand on his friend's shoulder. ''This thing can get extremely messy. For one thing, these guys, they know how to fight. Surviving three years as Special Ops in dune country and being able to tell the story; that, my friend, says a lot. Anybody who pisses them off has a war at hand that a normal citizen can't even imagine.'' Holding Kaiser's arm, he continued: ''You deal with admin guys and scientists all the time; these types you know and can assess. But these kids, they're a completely different breed. To survive a mega mess like that one back then, you need to be highly disciplined, thoughtful but not hesitant. Plan ahead. Be flexible and ready to take risks. Be absolutely loyal to your comrades: all go in, all come out - dead or alive. No exceptions. These boys have a pain threshold far beyond anything you can imagine - each and every one has been wounded for sure, and multiple times at that. No wonder they were able to bond with the Legion. And believe me, they know how to protect their people. Whoever jumps them, they're in for a big, big fucking surprise.''

  Leclerc paused. ''Then, on the other hand, we have to expect every intelligence service of this wonderful world to drop in on us, paying us a visit. Trying to snatch either the production secrets, some of our people, both, or at least squeeze the hiding place of our new friends out of us.'' He scratched his head. ''We'll have to dig in and defend ourselves. Ask the Swiss to send more troops to secure our perimeter. Let me get some SAMs to fend off chopper attacks and scare off jets.'' Again he paused, considering. ''But in the end we may only have one protective measure left: publish the production method openly on the internet and announce that the missing link - the antigrav generator - cannot be taken from CERN grounds, just as MacMillan suggested.''

  ''But you fear they will try anyway?''

  ''Yes. They will not believe us. And try to snatch it.''

  ''Can you protect it - and us?''

  ''I don't know. I really don't know, Ralf. Of course I will do my best, but I simply don't have the resources, the troops and the equipment to handle something that large.''

  ''But you do trust these Twisted Spaces people?''

  ''I trust Marcel. With my life.''

  ''And now, as it seems, with mine too.'' Kaiser smiled, clapped his friend on the shoulder. ''Well, no better hands to be in. So what do you suggest?''

  Leclerc took a deep breath: ''I'll call a comrade in the Legion, ask him to support us with a relief troop of a hundred or so. As a favour to help a friend. The Legion sometimes does such things, you know, they call it 'training exercises'. And within the fence - this would be legal, too - CERN is extra-territorial area. Inside here we can arm them appropriately, so the scavengers will be careful. But for this I need your support: food, quarters, so on.''

  ''That'll be the day ... call your comrade. What do you want to do with the antimatter?''

  ''The Legionnaires will come by choppers, land right on our helipad. While unloading is under way, Marcel will slip on board of one of them, unnoticed. They will fly him to the hiding place.''

  ''Invade other countries? All without any government's permission?''

  That drew a smile. ''We are especially good at that.''

  Chapter 44

  Spangdahlem

  Wednesday, 09.11.2016

  The daily round led Mike past Simone's cubicle. When she saw him, she waved him over and pointed at a still picture on her monitor. In VGA quality it showed the face of a younger woman with Asian features.

  ''Who's that?'' Mike asked.

  ''Our hunter,'' Simone replied. ''Chinese intelligence, I would imagine.''

  ''How ...''

  ''I registered several attempts to penetrate the firewall of our Bitburg Internet hub - the attacker followed the track of our outer-space data. So I asked our COMM officer to trace him.'' She looked up: ''Can you believe it: Reyd not only traced the bastard back; she also hacked his screen camera and took that snap ...'' She laughed. ''Right in the heart of the Chinese Intelligence headquarters.''

  ''Yeah,'' Mike replied, laughing out, too. ''Reyd is fantastic.'' He bent closer: ''Pretty bird ...''

  ''And very, very clever.'' Simone leaned back. ''Someone for us.'' She looked at Mike: ''I want her.''

  ''No problem,'' Mike grinned. ''I'll simply call her boss and place an offer ...''

  ''I'm serious. I want her in.'' Simone sounded adamant, transmitting the message: resistance is futile.

  ''OK, OK. I'll think about it.'' He scratched his head. ''Although the chances ...''

  ''I know. Just don't you forget ...''

  Mike knew when to hold, when to fold, when to walk away and when to run.

  ''Yes, ma'am.''

  Chapter 45

  Beijing

  Wednesday, 09.11.2016

  General Xao took the last steps leading to the central committee's meeting room. All possible preparations had been made, and now it was time for a decision. Considering the magnitude of his planned actions he knew the final ruling wasn't his to make, but had to be made by the whole committee. He was ready to present his case, explain it together with the contingency plans and had a folder with intel data for each of the committee members.

  One could never be sure how such a proposal was ingested by the near almighty of the party elite, and presenting a plan to attack a foreign country could easily end his career. But considering the stakes and the information he intended to put on the table, he was confident he would succeed. Every government had to react to a massive threat, and which thought was more frightening to a communist central committee than an undetectable nuclear weapon the size of a cigarette box in the hands of the ruthless capitalist foe, used for monstrous sabotage acts by US-sponsored terrorists? This was only one of the possible uses for the antimatter technology, sure, but, presented to the others carefully, that was t
he one his colleagues would jump on. The General knew this was a highly manipulative move, but being a child of the cold war, he was absolutely sure someone would do exactly that: build miniature nuclear bombs and detonate them in critical places within the Chinese industry.

  The door to the meeting room was still open, and Xao stepped through, seeing that he was the last to arrive. The game began.

  In the end it had taken two full hours of strained patience and utter coolness. The 'worriers' had finally run out of gas, and the fear of an undetectable nuke in the hands of the Americans gained the upper hand. The chairman had forced a vote. Like always, when the chairman showed a higher interest in some case, the vote was unanimous. Xao had his go, and the assurance that it would be his head on a stake if he failed. So, nothing new there, just the usual occupational hazard. The intelligence chief left the assembly hall and strode to his waiting car. Noon. There was work to be done, an intelligence operation in Germany to be laid out, and he already knew that this day would not be long enough.

  Unknown to Xao there was a leak in this highest-ranking group. One of the secretaries of a central committee member had been compromised a long time ago and been working for the Americans ever since, as a deep undercover and well-protected source. The agent immediately recognised the importance of the papers his boss had handed him to file away: the information the Head of Intelligence had disclosed to the illustrious circle would be on its way to Washington within the hour.

  Chapter 46

  Langley

  Wednesday, 09.11.2016

  The Generals Matthew Walthers and Jack Atkins knew each other well, had worked countless times together, but disliked each other anyway. The reason behind their profound aversion to each other reached back into the eighties, when they had served as young and promising officers in the same US army division. Too different in temperament and ambition, they had had their run-ins. Fate separated them back then, fate had re-united them thirty years later, here, at the top of the American intelligence apparatus, as DDI and DDO - deputy director intelligence and deputy director operations - data analysis and data gathering.

  In today's invitation to his colleague the DDI had mentioned a heads-up message from their source in the Chinese central committee, containing one single line: Central committee meets at 10:00 CST to discuss serious security threat to China. That meant a report from the Head of Intelligence, General Lian Xao.

  Now, having the transcript of that meeting in his hands, the DDI officially opened the meeting: ''We've received information that the central committee authorized a black operation in Germany. They believe a new type of nuclear weapon has been developed there: a portable antimatter bomblet to be used as a sabotage tool against them.''

  ''What?'' The DDO did not buy this.

  ''And they believe the development comes from an unidentified group of renegades, possibly anti-communist scientists.''

  ''Anti-communist scientists. In Germany.''

  ''Yes. You know, many Germans do have an intense dislike of socialism.''

  ''That's one way to put it. Does this correspond with your intelligence from Geneva?''

  ''No, not at all. CERN believes they are ...'' he looked at the document in front of him: ''Ah, yes, space cowboys. That's what their senior scientists called them: space cowboys. Only thing they seem to be interested in is to get their home-made starship into space.''

  ''Home-made starship. Antigravitation technology. Antimatter. You believe all this?''

  The DDI just shrugged. ''The data provides no basis for a decision.''

  ''But the Chinese ...''

  ''Well,'' the DDI furled his eyebrows, ''I don't think the Chinese have other intel than we do. Same circle of people where the info was taken from, you know.''

  ''But why the fear of antimatter bombs?''

  ''Either paranoia, the one they always develop when dealing with suspected western superiority, or ...'' Matthews stopped a moment, thinking.

  ''Or what?''

  ''Well, one possibility is that Xao tricked them, made them think we, the US, will snatch the technology, build the bombs and distribute them to every anti-communist nut in China.''

  ''The first part may be right, but the rest ... that'll be the day.''

  ''It could also be a mole hunt.''

  ''To identify your source in their midst.''

  ''Yes, that's one possibility, but maybe it's just Xao tricking them into giving permission for his own snatching plans.''

  ''Where is the target area, exactly?''

  The DDI took only one look, then said: ''Germany. Bitburg.'' He read on, then followed up: ''They are not completely sure, suspect a nearby location.''

  ''How come?'' The DDO frowned.

  ''The identified one seems too obvious to them.''

  ''So what are they doing about it?''

  ''They want to find it by scanning the area for gravimetric anomalies, which they believe to result from test runs with the target group's antigrav devices.''

  That got the DDO interested: ''By what means?''

  ''By chartering a local sightseeing plane, flying repeatedly over the suspected areas and checking them with a gravimetric probe.''

  ''Clever. But we can do better than that,'' the DDO remarked, touching a button on the desk's intercom touchscreen. ''NASA has a satellite in low orbit right now that examines Earth's gravimetric sphere. Some university's science project. It's sensitive as hell. Your kids can redirect it ...''

  ''Sir?'' a voice from the intercom arose.

  ''Target area is south-west Germany. Where is the closest team?''

  ''In Germany,'' was the laconic answer. ''Frankfurt airport, military section. Under Lieutenant-Commander George Wright. It's a reinforced platoon.'' Meaning forty/fifty soldiers.

  ''Wright? George Wright?''

  ''Yes, sir.''

  ''Contact him. Tell him: Bitburg Airbase or close by ... he should feel right at home - was stationed there ... Order him to prepare for immediate departure and tell him we are working on the exact location.''

  ''Yes Sir.''

  ''And send reinforcement to Frankfurt and Luxembourg airport.''

  ''That will have to come from England and Italy, sir.''

  ''OK. Wait, please.''

  Now it was the DDI's turn. He picked up the phone in front of him, dialled a short number. ''Sat Control? Yes. Now, I've a job for you. Priority Alpha. You will like it: you get to steal something from NASA.''

  It took only a minute to transfer the instructions and listen to his specialists answer the most important question. Putting down the receiver, he summarized: ''First pass in approximately two hours, then every ninety minutes.''

  The DDO leaned toward the intercom, barked at his adjutant: ''And Myers, tell them: minimum wait two hours, then one-and-a-half hour intervals.''

  ''Yes, sir.''

  Turning to Walthers, Atkins pointed to the secure phone and said: ''That's all we can do for now. Next we need to get presidential approval for this. My call.''

  Chapter 47

  Geneva/CERN

  Wednesday, 09.11.2016

  Looking out of his window, Kaiser watched the five unmarked transport helicopters sitting in a loose formation on CERN's helipad, their large rotors turning in idle mode, ready to take off at any time. External kerosene tanks for extended range were visible under their bottoms. No ordnance in sight.

  They had approached from the east not even a quarter of an hour ago, flying in a chain and so low that they had bent the trees in their path, just skimming over CERN's fifteen foot perimeter fencing. They had been surprisingly silent for such huge beasts. Now a stream of soldiers in camouflage uniforms was spilling out of their bellies, rushing through the downwash right towards the closest experimental hall, their provisional home for the next days - or weeks. There they would pick up the prepared weapons from CERN's meanwhile quite impressive armoury, and within the hour get briefed on their mission and sent to their sentry posts.

  Kaiser felt a
bad sensation rising while he watched the deploying troopers. Welcome as they were, CERN was meant to be a haven of human science and knowledge gathering, working for the good of all mankind. But the bomb attack from those hate-filled scumbags two years ago had changed the game and forced him to beef up security measures. Five dead guards and commuters plus thirty more wounded tend to do such things.

  Watching the young people move around the choppers, he saw a group of soldiers heading back, jumping on and off the machines, obviously handing out duffel bags and other gear. After a few minutes of busy movement, they were done and came out again. The helicopter doors closed, the engines powered up, the big machines lifted and tilted away, northward, staying low under the screen of the nearby airport's commercial radar.

  Director Kaiser sighed deeply. The departure of the courier - Marcel Dupont - with 'the package' had just been as smooth and unobtrusive as Paul had predicted. No one could have noticed that one of the boarding men had not come here with the choppers.

  ''ETA two and a half hours,'' Leclerc announced. That put the destination somewhere inside Europe. Now if the rest of the improvised plan would just ...

  Anyway. The money was on the table, now they had to wait for the dice to fall.

  Chapter 48