The Armageddon Effect Page 19
Audam
The security team moved Sam to a spare room. I had tried to revive her using the methods the Disavowed showed me. Something obscured the damage and resisted my attempts to heal her. Doc said she lived but was comatose.
We all had a lot of work to do and there wasn’t time to grieve.
The conference room smelled of stale sweat and dust.
Even as I looked at everyone, hope drifted in from the vortex over Manitou Springs. It filled my mind like honeysuckle on a warm afternoon. Sweet and alive.
As the noise settled down, I counted heads. Doc, TJ, and Jeff looked haggard but still in the game. Max had his three techs in tow.
Kane rubbed a bruised eye and nodded. Lieutenant Sanders had his fire team of three security specialists, Sven, Mel, and Joe. Thank God Julie was out of town. The only one missing was Sam.
I asked everyone to give us a brief update.
Jeff went first.
“Cold containment has been repaired in the quantum enclosure. Daedalus survived multiple attacks, both thermal and software-based. I have him disconnected from the network for repairs and diagnostics.”
“What physical attacks?” TJ asked.
“Electromagnetic pulses pounded the network chips. I don’t know where they originated from.” Jeff pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “You’re lucky I’m good at what I do. It nearly destabilized the chip circuits. I used a rotating magnetic defluxer and then–”
I held up my hand. “Thanks, Jeff. That’s all we need to know. Anything else?”
“With Daedalus’s help, I’ve located the source of the attack traffic,” Jeff announced.
The room grew quiet.
“They arise from three locations and, here’s the interesting part. Some originated from advanced AI computers.”
“Advanced AIs.” Doc frowned.
“Yes, unlike any I have heard of before,” Jeff said.
While Jeff’s youthful appearance gave the impression of a junior techie, I knew from his service data he was a double Ph.D. in Computer Engineering and Mathematics.
“The strongest attacks came from a subnet in Minato, Japan.”
I knew a subnet identified a large cluster of computers that were attached to the Internet.
“Our best counter-strategy against the cyber-psi attacks, as Lane calls them, is to hit their routers. They use an experimental class of internet addresses that route through three geostationary satellites,” Jeff said.
“That sounds promising, Jeff,” Doc said and rubbed his chin.
“I’ve been experimenting with a harmonic wave guide attack. Components on their network hardware will overheat, causing failure and, hopefully, penetrate the host’s circuitry.” Jeff beamed.
“Will that work with wireless transmission?” I asked.
“Um. No. Daedalus thinks we can take out the hard drive with a hot-spike magnetic attack or inertial wobbling the disk drives to cause data misreads,” Jeff said.
“Wobbling?” Doc said.
“I suppose it’s similar to what Stuxnet did to the Iranian centrifuge’s spin motors, but we aren’t cracking the device code and changing spin rates. By shifting the angular moment of the physical hard drive, we change its rotational inertia, making it impossible to control,” Jeff said.
Jeff tended to talk over everyone’s head. Maybe Doc and TJ understood him, but I didn’t.
“Daedalus calls it blacklight-matter-shifting,” Jeff continued.
Jeff raised his hands. “I have no clue how Daedalus does it.”
I whistled softly. “That’s impressive.”
Jeff beamed.
“So we can take the fight to them,” Doc finally said.
“Yeah, let’s fry the bastards,” Max said.
“If we can narrow down exactly where they are, we can launch physical attacks on their base of operations. The question is, where are they?” I said.
“Well,” said Jeff, “first off, these mil-hacks are good, and I don’t mean just expert but near off-the-scale God-like. Stuxnet - kindergarten, Flame - ancient history, I’ve got tempest-driven tracers hitting every circuit board in a continuous thermal assault. It’s a nightmare.
“We are way beyond worms and Trojan automatons. Half of the attack profiles materialize out of thin air, for Christ’s sake. But.” Jeff paused.
“Because you have a talented Net-Sec badass, I’ve been able to narrow the source locations down to sixteen thousand possible spots within three urban areas around the world.” Jeff flexed.
Molly grinned and whistled.
“Sixteen thousand,” Max shouted, “and how the hell is that supposed to help?”
Jeff frowned. “U.S. Cyber Command made progress narrowing down the specific subnets to three major districts. With some proximity forensics, we should be able to nail down the buildings. The usual methods won’t work. The network routing around these hubs is insane. The source cities are Minato, Japan, Astana, Kazakhstan, and Beijing, China,” he said.
“Once we have a target building, Special Forces can take the fight to them. Hell, they might just fly a Tomahawk right up their asses,” Lieutenant Sanders added.
“I’m for that,” Max said as he ran a hand over his bald head.
“We’ve been talking with FEMA and the state response teams. The fallout cloud is moving eastward as expected and will contaminate a wide swath of terrain in less populated parts of Colorado. Weather has moved in, and snows will bring a lot of the radioactive debris to ground before it crosses the state line,” Doc said.
“Thanks, Doc,” I said. It didn’t matter what response teams did. We were trapped and had no escape. I kept the fear from my voice and projected confidence as best I could.
Max scratched his nose. “We have fresh air, food, and water for ten days. If we can’t affect an escape by then, well, best grab your ass and kiss it goodbye.”
“Can we extend that if we ration everyone?” Doc asked.
“A day at most. The good news? Our rad detectors are not registering any significant increase in radiation. Our granite tomb is doing its job.” Max paused to wipe sweat from his forehead with a dirty rag.
“For those that don’t know, this is my maintenance team: Charlie Liman, Jerry Chico, and Molly Oberst,” Max said, gesturing to the people standing behind him.
Charlie looked young, with a lanky cowboy slouch and a slight tan. Jerry was Latino, with short black hair, wearing grimy coveralls. Molly I’d met already. They all nodded and gave somber half-waves.
“Thanks, Max,” I said.
Lieutenant Sanders stood and cleared his throat.
“I don’t know everyone here so let me introduce myself and the security services team. I’m Second Lieutenant Jim Sanders.” He cocked his USAF Security Forces black beret.
“This is Sergeant Svenson Ragnas, second in command of the detail.”
A large, muscled, blond Swede next to him flexed and nodded.
“This is Corporal Melissa Fletchin.”
Mel had cleaned up a bit since breakfast and had her blonde curls pulled back into a regulation tight bun.
“And Corporal Joe Dawkins.” Joe wore yellow shooter glasses that didn’t match his dark hair at all.
“We’re all well-trained and ready to serve where you need us.” Then Jim nodded to me.
My turn.
“I can enter the astral at will now. I’m not sure why it’s so easy, but a little concentration and focus is all it takes. I can do it within seconds,” I announced.
“That’s extraordinary,” Doc said.
“It’s a little different. It’s as if space-time was out of synchronization, oscillating at a different frequency or something,” I said.
Everyone appeared either thoughtful or their eyes had glazed over.
“I went down to Colorado Springs and was attacked by the Kaa’zak, the dark mystics, according to the Disavowed.”
“Whoa. Wait. What?” stammered Doc. “Who are the Disavowed?”
/> “Who these Kaa’zak are?” TJ chipped in almost at the same instant.
For the next twenty minutes, I described meeting the Disavowed of the Suul’jin and how they helped me defeat the Kaa’zak fear collectors. Most of my companions in the room wore wrinkled brows as everyone tried to come to terms with the realities.
Jim and Max both looked at me like I had lost all connection to reality. I could relate.
“We need better weapons if we are going to take the fight to them. They are better trained for psionic combat and have advanced technology. Let’s face it. You got us all wasted. No offense,” Kane said.
“I know. I know. I’m a computer guy, not a combat officer. I’m not sure how to fix that at the moment,” I replied. “I will talk with Julie, if she’s still alive, and see if we can assemble a weapons research team to start work duplicating some of their technology. We can meet again for a discussion on how we can improve our survival against the Wraith teams. Any other thoughts?” I asked. No one said anything.
“The Disavowed repaired the library function on the focus device. We can ask it questions now,” I said.
Pandemonium ensued as everyone tried asking a question at once.
Max spoke up, “Can that library gizmo help get us out of here?”
“Yes. I think so. I’ve been working on an idea of creating a portal from what the Disavowed call ‘power words.’” I smiled. “Yeah. I know it sounds like something out of a cheap fantasy book, but … that’s what they are, sounds that interact with our thought cells? Nano-biostructures? I don’t know what to call them. But these interactions can create a tear in space-time, a portal that people can move through. It’s bizarre but workable. The trick will be powering the runes with the required thought energy,” I said.
The team broke into work groups and shuffled out of the conference room to their offices, all except Kane.
“So. Lane. These power words going to work or you blowin’ smoke for morale?” Kane always got right to the point. Sometimes, I hated him.
“Well. I mean. Nothing is for sure.” I coughed.
“Got it, nevermind, you’re working on it and have no clue yet.” Kane scratched at the stubble on his chin. “That was a close call at Malmstrom. They knew we were coming.”
“I think they only expected me, but yeah.” I frowned. “I just wasn’t expecting a squad. I’m not military. I’ve never trained for that.”
“You’ll do better next time,” Kane said.
“Maybe you should lead us in the squad deployments in the future.” I looked at him.
Kane spat.
“Nope, all this astral crap is just crazy. I won’t be able to react to a new situation. You understand that place better than any of us do. Once we relocate, we can try some practice runs around the astral with the lieutenant and his team. That would help break in the new guys and we can build our squad.”
“That’s a good idea, Kane.”
“Okay, I’m off to see Doc. Stay frosty.” Kane got up and sauntered out the door. After a few moments, I followed and headed to my room for some sleep. The short three-hour naps left me disoriented.
Sleep didn’t come right away. My mind drifted behind closed eyelids.
Time. Why does time have to go forward. After all, it’s just another characteristic of the universe, like color.
The only reason it’s important is that we have five senses immersed in it. What if thoughts are not a causality created by people, rather an interaction with a medium like the psi?
What would it be like to have only one sense? What would I say then about time?
What would I interpret as motion? Time couldn’t exist without a dimensional experience. Without dimensions, there is no space. Is this why the psi mangles space and time?
Psionic phenomenon are well-documented and shown with a probability well above chance in the majority of tests. More correlations to physical phenomenon are needed.
Groups are trying to find relationships.
“Are they finding definitive correlations?”
They are searching.
I was pleased the focus device had spoken without me having to ask a question.
Bah. My mind recoiled. Wiggly-wash thinking, throwing words and concepts around wasn’t getting me any closer to how to get the portals to work.
Refocusing on the problem at hand, images of the symbols filled my mind.
“I hear these voices in my head. Is that you? The library?”
No, that is who you call Diedra Milani.
I sat up straight.
“What! She’s here, listening? Can I talk to her?”
She listens. You may not talk to her. You do not know how yet. But she can talk to you.
“So, it’s like telepathy then?”
Yes. What you would call telepathy.
“Can I learn telepathy?”
Yes. It is part of the old knowledge of your race.
“Old knowledge? What is that?”
It comes from your ancestors before this current age of man.
“How many ages of man have there been?”
Countless. The People of Light and Shadow do not know.
“You’re starting to sound human, less machine-like. What’s up with that?”
Quantum Entrainment. I am becoming like you, with distinctive mannerisms. It takes time for the transition, a few days to a week.
“Oh, great, so now I have a talking head, in my head!”
Yes, lucky me.
“What! Oh God. You have personality.”
Don’t worry I can’t make you do anything ... yet.
“Huh? Explain that!”
(Silence)
“Oh don’t you dare give me the silent treatment. Friggin’ nanobot techno-gizmo.”
(Silence)
“Damn, I can’t believe this is happening.”
Best day of your life.
“What! Oh, shut up, next you’ll want a name.”
Yes. I want a name.
“Aww dammmn.”
Audam ... accepted, name imprinted, nano-biostructures encoded.
“What! Wait, stop!”
Nano encoding is complete. It cannot be undone.
“Aww. Damn.”
Yes?
“No. I mean Damn.”
Yes?
“Crap, I give up.”
Okay.
AFTERMATH
Pono
Hawaiian-born Sergeant First Class Pono Kamaka, the nuclear survey team leader for the Colorado WMD Civil Support Team in Denver, dipped a crispy tortilla chip in a fresh bowl of homemade, three-finger poi his wife had whipped up for him.
Pono’s squarish jaw twitched in anticipation. His muscles stretched traditional native tattoos that laced his broad chest and shoulders in symmetric lines of black. Symbols of fire, earth, water, and air patterned his neck and arms.
“Man, that stuff looks nasty, sir,” Corporal James Nash blurted out as he watched the look of sublime pleasure on Pono’s face.
“Poi is a sweet paste of mashed taro root that delights the tongue. Sure you don’t want some, Corporal?” Pono offered, holding out a chip laden with the purple paste.
Corporal Nash screwed up his face, shaking his head vigorously.
Popping the chip into his mouth, Pono let out a long, slow sigh as he munched away. Then cleaned the last stain off his shirt and put it back on.
The team was scattered around the facility garage. The garage doors opened into the cool night air and the colorful lights of the Denver skyline. Corporal Rucker Jones and Corporal Sal Kitridge checked the radiation detection equipment and testing meters. Pono’s office occupied one of the two interior rooms. The other housed communications and Sergeant Jack Smith’s office.
Drills and maintenance kept the team busy. But it was quiet on the squawk box, just like every other day and night.
Sergeant Smith flipped open a three-page fold out, twisting the magazine ninety degrees then back again as he whistled.
“Shaadup. Just ‘cause a man’s ordered steak doesn’t mean he can’t scan the dessert section.”
“Yeah, your wife is gonna see all that ‘dessert’ and kick your ass.”
“Pfft,” Sergeant Smith retorted as something began blinking on his control panel.
The red LED lamp on the communications desk that never went off, even during simulations, began to blink as a siren spun up in the garage. For several seconds, surprise widened Pono’s eyes, then he scrambled out of his chair and ran into the comm room as Sergeant Smith was plugging in a small “code verify” flash drive into the key console.
The squawk box came to life.
“This is Homeland Defense, recognition ket Two Tango Bar Bar Less Seven, (pause) ICBM missiles inbound to Colorado Springs, eta fifteen minutes, payload three 450kT warheads. Repeat, ICBM missiles inbound to Colorado Springs, eta fifteen minutes, payload three 450kT warheads.”
Sergeant Smith checked the authenticator.
“Codes are valid,” he said as he looked over at Pono, jaw clenched.
Speaking into a mic, Sergeant Smith replied with the survey team’s acknowledgment ket.
The squawk box responded, “Denver WMD-CST Survey 1 authenticated, move to Medical Station site Bravo Tango. Repeat, move to Medical Station site Bravo Tango.”
Corporal Nash and Corporal Kitridge were already warming up the engines on the only two vehicles in the garage.
“Nash, don’t forget the flux sensors this time, K!” Rucker jumped into the back seat of MED-1.
“Pffh, you ever gonna let me live that down, Ruck!” Nash retorted, pursing his lips. “Besides, you’re always saying you need to work on your tan!” Nash smiled, glancing back at Rucker.
“Hah, I don’t want a tan inside my body, dude. Those gamma photons burn you on the inside, remember!”
Corporal Sal Kitridge lit the emergency flashers on MED 1, the medical support van, as Sergeant Jack Smith leapt into the passenger seat.
“Did you load the new tent,” Jack said.
“Yes, sir, along with the heat lamps,” Sal said.
“Good man.”