by E. N. Abel
''Occasionally, but nothing this outstanding! I love it!''
That made Alex laugh. ''Thank you. You should try my Tiramisu, too. Maybe next supply run I can get the ingredients.''
''Are there more hidden qualities in you?'' Chan asked teasingly between two bites, firing a very seductive smile at her opposite. ''That I can exploit, I mean?''
A fine blush climbed up Alex's cheeks, and Chan, finding that cute, quickly looked down and smiled into her pasta.
''Hey,'' he protested, half-heartily: ''I'm a communist, too, remember? Since when do communists exploit one another?''
''Communist or not,'' she replied ironically, carrying the tease onward, ''Men do that all the time - with women.'' He stayed silent, following her moves with big eyes. ''For example,'' she went on, pointing with her fork towards her plate, ''they feed their females delicious bits and pieces to lure them into their beds.''
''What a horrible attitude you demonstrate for such a beautiful girl!'' Alex's shocked undertone somehow sounded insincere. Changing the subject from what he considered thin ice, he pointed at the pad: ''What did I tell you?''
''You were right.'' Chan sighed, recognising his attempt to divert the conversation, but going along with it anyway. ''The Captain dropped it right on me.''
''So how are you coming along?''
''Not at all.'' Again a sigh. ''My, this is a really complicated matter!''
''Naaa, it's not,'' the Russian replied, waving dismissively. ''Just a little chaotic.''
That made her look up: she had never met a guy who called a two feet long equation of twenty seven dimensional spaces just a little chaotic. Then and there she decided to find out more about this fellow.
''I firmly believe that a far simpler formula exists,'' Alex continued, munching. ''But we don't see it. Burkhard Heim's geometry is some hard-core stuff, I grant him that.'' He circled a larger area of the equation with his fork. ''There must be a bug somewhere. Probably something more like a misinterpretation or an unlucky turn. Our simulations work just fine. Mike has fixed one major flaw, but our pre-tests fail long before we reach the critical threshold. The field begins to swing, becomes unstable, so we have to abort time and again. Before we fire up the space folder for real, we have to get that part ironed out.''
Chan had listened intently. ''Have you ever succeeded in doing that: actually folded space-time?''
''Oh no; far too dangerous on Earth,'' Alex replied between two mouths full of Bolognese. ''You need some dozen Terawatt to do it right. In Spangdahlem we didn't have access to that kind of juice. And ever since, there was little time for experiments.'' He forked another load. ''Well, now we have the power, are away from Earth and would like to start the hot phase. And, as I mentioned, we already ran some preliminary tests with the folder itself. Unsuccessful.'' Again he pointed to the pad: ''So that has to work first. And, Chan, very important: never mention that we use a space-folding approach to interstellar travel. For outsiders it's always something with 'sub-spaces', OK?'' Then, smiling: ''Keep eating, Mai-Lin, the pasta is getting cold.''
Remembering the delicacy in front of her, she dug into her plate again: ''And you think I can solve the problem? Find that glitch?''
''Absolutely. Mike showed me part of your file, your credentials. Boy, I'm really impressed. I mean, I've never met a human with an IQ of over one-sixty. If you can't solve it, who can?''
For a moment Chan was speechless. To be trusted with such a task and then to have so much confidence heaped on her ... maybe she should really give the thought a chance: ... once in a lifetime, Xao had said ... ''You put too much faith in a simple Chinese girl,'' she finally remarked.
Alex smiled at her: ''You forgot 'beautiful', Mai-Lin. Now, after lunch, would you like to come down to the engine room and take a peek at the reactor assembly and the grav generators? It will help you to better understand that monster formula there.'' He pointed at the pad.
For a moment she hesitated. More secrets revealed? Alex, misinterpreting her facial expression, added quickly: ''Not to worry, Xiaomeng. You are perfectly safe with me. I'll stick me oil-stained hands in de arse-pockets. So no finger prints on dis lady.''
That made her laugh. Spring blossom he had called her. Seemed like he had dug out some Chinese pet names ...
Chan looked at him, now free of fear and pressure and saw an attractive young man flashing a heart-warming smile at her. She leaned forward, took his hand in hers. ''I think I can risk it.''
Chapter 86
Geneva/CERN
Friday, 25.11.2016
Leclerc watched Ralf Kaiser nervously look at his wristwatch: ''Five more minutes to go ...''
''Don't worry, they'll come. Meanwhile let's inspect the supply group,'' the Colonel offered, pointing at the waiting chain of helpers, everyone with a box or a crate at his or her feet. ''Everything's lined up, we are ready for them. Even getting faster every time.''
Walking over to the row of people, Leclerc looked at his friend: ''Any objections about us outfitting the kids?''
''No,'' Kaiser replied. ''Just the opposite: we've received faxes from nearly every major nation, outdoing themselves by offering everything from technology and funds to food.'' He turned to the Colonel: ''Food. That's the keyword: any complaints from our friends over the meal selections?''
''Naaa,'' Leclerc waved off. ''About half of them are ex-military, they'll eat anything. The other half probably doesn't dare to complain.'' He laughed. ''It's not always easy for civilians to mix with grunts. Especially ground hogs.''
''Ground hogs.''
''Yes. Also called ground pounders, weed walkers or grunts: normal light infantry.''
''Oh.'' They continued along the line. ''Sanitary products?'' Kaiser stopped beside a crate with 'Toiletries and Feminine Hygiene' printed on it.
''They have ten healthy, young and fertile women on board, not counting their doctor.'' Leclerc motioned to the helper to open the crate. ''I would guess they need at least about a hundred and fifty tampons or sanitary pads a month ...''
''Christ, I haven't thought about that. Contraceptives too?''
Paul pointed to a smaller vacuum-wrapped pack in the crate: ''Ten young and healthy bucks on board, too. Their GP prefers six-month implants for the girls. Sent a specified order down. That there is enough for two years. We threw in two hundred condoms on top of that, just in case.'' He paused a moment. ''I know her.''
''Know whom?''
''Their medic, a US Army Captain. Hell of a woman, I tell you.'' He looked at Ralf: ''Was one of them, a fucking A-Shaitan-Allemande. Absolutely fearless, tough as nails.'' He paused, remembering. ''Patched up one of my boys right on the battlefield - in the middle of a firefight. He got his belly ripped open by a ricochet. You wouldn't believe this woman: first she had one of her troopers knock him out cold, then sewed him up with needle and cat-gut while three of her guys gave her cover, screening her with their bodies and shooting the crap out of an attacking gang of insurgents. Shells and dirt flying all over the place, loads of bullets ripping by so close you could feel their breath. She didn't give a shit, never stopped, never hesitated. Didn't even flinch when a grazer ripped open her jacket's back. But in the end we all made it out in one piece. My soldier survived and has a bar in Marseille now.'' The Colonel looked up into the still empty sky. ''They are in very capable hands, our kids.''
Kaiser shared a moment of silence with his friend. ''Is all this material security checked?'' he then wondered.
''Triple. Checked, analysed, probed, checked again. For dirt, poison, radioactivity, even preservatives. This stuff is as secure as we can make it. We've even taken random samples and used them on ourselves.''
''What's that?'' Kaiser kicked against a smaller wooden crate with the Legions coat of arms on it.
''Wine. You know of course that the Legion has its own Chateau. Where our retirees can live, if they want. This here is a safe-journey greeting for our brothers-in-arms.'' The Colonel grinned: ''Twenty-four of the finer red on
es. Might have to drink it the Legion way, though.'' When his friend looked at him, not understanding, Leclerc continued with a little smile: ''Out of coffee pots, billycans and plastic beakers.''
Kaiser laughed. ''Where are the injectors?''
Leclerc nodded towards the first person in the supply chain, a young woman: ''Andrea is carrying them in one of her luggage cases. Twenty units, half a kilo each, full to the brim.'' Looking at the two big bags in front of her, he went on: ''She really wants to join them?''
''Yes, she was very insistent. Naturally MacMillan was delighted: you know he collects bright young talents like other people do postage stamps.''
''Can't blame him. And I can understand her, too: the call of a lifetime adventure ...''
Kaiser turned towards the perimeter: ''Speaking of adventure: have you seen all those spectators along the fence?''
''Yes. There are more at the observation points along the valley.'' Leclerc motioned towards the hills. ''Even TV crews with telephoto lenses. The kids are stars now.''
''Big stars. Would you believe: yesterday I heard a song about them in the radio. And Andrea tells me Facebook and Twitter is full of 'em.'' He laughed out. ''Well, all this popularity has a downside: the lunatics are probably crawling out of their holes right now, shouting murder-and-death. Aren't you afraid that somebody sets up a missile and shoots at them?''
''There's always that possibility, my friend. But don't worry too much; my people are out there too, keeping a discreet eye on things.'' He referred to a hundred or so armed Legionnaires prowling through the underbrush. The wide international support had made that politically possible - French troops operating in Switzerland.
''Fortunately the Swiss government has allowed the landings ...''
''Yes, they actually think it's great. All the visitors. The many toll stickers. Probably hoping that the attendants will also buy chocolate and cheese before they return home. Even sent us reinforcements to guard the fence and the hills.'' Leclerc pointed upwards: ''There!''
A bright golden dot fell from the sky, totally silent, getting bigger by the heartbeat, growing into a tennis ball, a football, then a huge sphere. Right on the spot, above the cross of the helipad, it came to a rest.
''Wow,'' Kaiser grinned, ''Not even a pressure-wave. I've seen harsher landings.''
That made Leclerc smile. ''Yes, how civilised you can become when nobody shoots at you. The air lock is opening!''
Both men looked expectantly at the fifteen-meter balloon hovering silently above their heads. A part of the outer hull seemed to swing aside and showed a lit room. Then a young woman stepped into the opening, looked searchingly around, saw the two men and jumped out, softly floating down. She was of Asian type, mid-twenties, very slim, wore a tiny skirt, was of extraordinary beauty and carried a bag in her hand. The free fall seemed to present some problems for her: she flailed with her arms, her long black hair following her in slow-motion like a dark veil. She touched ground on her knees, then rose carefully and stepped out of the zero-G zone. This worked as a signal: the supply guys started a race like a pit-crew, catching empty crates floating down from the sphere and throwing up new supplies in a frenzy stream.
''It's the hostage woman,'' Kaiser marvelled, ''The Chinese girl! Chan-something.''
''Chan Li,'' the Colonel helped out. ''Yes. This will be interesting.''
The woman oriented herself, then briskly walked over to them.
''Sirs,'' she addressed the two men, holding out the bag one-handed. ''The Captain sends his regards. He ordered me to hand this over to you.''
Leclerc nodded to his friend, and Kaiser gabbed it, flinched and corrected his grip quickly - the bag was far heavier than she had made it look. He carefully peeked into it: ''Another big antigrav unit,'' he stated, ''Looks like a replacement for the stolen one. We are back in the AM-business!'' Turning to Chan he added: ''Thank you.''
''The Captain also said,'' she continued dryly, ''that he would appreciate it if you kept a closer eye on this one.''
Leclerc laughed out. ''He's absolutely right, your Captain. Am I assuming correctly that his name is MacMillan?''
''Yes, sir,'' Chan looked curiously at the man: ''You are Colonel Leclerc?'
''Yes, I am.''
''Then I have two messages for you. The first: the Captain says thank you for the Cognac. Ellie would have appreciated it.'' Leclerc had to swallow hard. He rose to speak, but the girl-woman held up her hand: ''There is a second one.'' She took a breath, then went on: ''You are waiting for something from him. You already have it. Your adjutant knows all the answers.''
With this she swirled around, heading back to the sphere.
''Wait a moment, please!'' Kaiser called out.
Chan turned halfway, looking at them expectantly.
''Wouldn't you prefer to stay here? I mean, you could be free again. No more hostage.''
The woman gave him a fine smile: ''I am no hostage. In our first meeting the Captain explained things to me. And, to show his sincerity, he now has chosen me as a messenger for you. To give me a chance to turn away from them.''
''So why don't you do it?'' Leclerc wanted to know, guessing one or two reasons already.
''I still have work to do, up there.'' She pointed to the sphere. ''Add my part to their journey. When it's done, I will decide the next step.'' She hesitated. ''Sir, you are CERN Secret Service, right?''
''Well, no, I'm just Head of Security. We have no secret service.''
''I would like to ask a favour from you.''
''Go ahead ...''
''You know General Xao?''
''Xao Ling, Head of Chinese Intelligence? Not personally, but of course I know who he is and can reach out to him.''
''That's perfect. Could you please contact Xao and tell him that all is well and I am thankful.''
Leclerc nodded. ''Sure.''
''I have to leave now,'' Chan said. ''Thank you and good bye.''
''Good bye.''
The two men watched the young woman return to the sphere and take off to the air lock.
''She's Chinese Intelligence?'' Kaiser assumed.
''Most likely,'' Leclerc replied. ''Anyway,'' he turned to his friend, slapping his shoulder, ''Come. I think we shall have a chat with Marcel now. He should have something for us.''
Chapter 87
Moon Orbit
Friday, 18.11.2016
An hour later the two men were sitting in Kaiser's office, brandy-snifters filled with exquisite Cognac in front of them. Marcel had pulled an SD chip unceremoniously from his unlocked nightstand drawer, reluctantly handed it over and suggested with a sad smile to try one-five-nine-three-five-six. The chip had contained a huge data block, highly encrypted in fractal code. Marcel's guess at the password had proven to be right and unveiled a huge web site, ready for deployment.
The multitude of pages was currently being scrutinised and reviewed by Kaiser's staff, but just by looking over the key issues it was already clear: it was all there. Pages and pages of equations and explanations, calculations, construction plans, project progress reports, lessons-learned documents. MacMillan had kept his word.
So would Kaiser: in six or so weeks the material would be publicised on CERN's web site, accessible for everyone.
With a few early and especially precise releases to invited parties. Like the American CIA, the French DGSE, the Russian SVR and - courtesy of Michael MacMillan - the Chinese Intelligence Service.
Chapter 88
Transfer
Friday, 25.11.2016
''Report!'' Drifting head down from the upper deck through the ceiling hole of the lift, Mike took a shortcut. As soon as he had passed the opening, he pointed himself towards Reyd's seat by grabbing the side-stanchion as a support pole and pushing off. This catapulted him out of the lift's zero G zone.
Instantaneously he felt a massive pull towards the floor. This was the tricky part: slipping out of weightlessness into the force field of the gravity plating; basically it was a co
ntrolled fall and took a little practice. Mike pushed, fell, cushioned the shock with his legs and stood up. Next he walked over to his COM officer.
''We have received a radio transmission from NASA, a fax message,'' Reyd said in an unbelieving tone.
''So, National Aeronautics and Space Administration is calling. What do they want from us?''
Reyd looked at him, big eyed: ''They are asking us to come back to Earth and pick something up. Then take it with us to the Moon...''
Mike laughed. ''Wondered when they'd come up with this.''
''You think it's a trap?''
''Naaa. The real NASA guys are pragmatics, they just want to grab the opportunity to get something done. It takes a fortune to transport anything to the Moon, and we can do it far cheaper. They'll probably ask us to ferry some stuff to Mars later.'' He paused. ''I bet there is a presidential guarantee attached, a promise of safe-conduct for Florida - or wherever they want us to land.''
Reyd read the message again, tabbed on the screen: ''Yessss, but not for Florida. Not only, I mean...'' She looked up, astonished: ''More like for the whole United States of America. Like: land anywhere, any time. The president just wants us to inform NORAD beforehand so they won't get nervous ... and there is also ...'' She read on, then said: ''a series of files attached.'' She clicked on the screen several times. ''Oh my God! Those are Presidential Pardons! For our crew members! Pardoning all offences performed in connection with this project ...'' Turning to Mike she whispered in disbelief: ''What does that mean? How does he know our names?''
Simone Goldman, still floating in the lift, had heard the last exchange and answered: ''Press release from CERN, upon our request. By now everybody knows our names, so the whole world knows who is on this ship. And as there are some American citizens amongst us, the President made sure nobody can go after us.''
''Go after us? What for?'' Reyd seemed puzzled.
''Let me see: for petty reasons such as high treason, breach of secrecy, endangering the national security, neglecting an officer's duty to his country, spitting on the street, stuff like that.'' Simone laughed. ''You were right Mike, looks like they are seeking an arrangement with us.''