Far Space (25 page)

“I’m no linguist,” Yates said, shrugging, “but I guess if you have enough PhD’s pounding on enough keyboards you eventually can figure anything out.”

“So what does this have to do with Jennifer?” Ian said. “Her specialty was in quantum communications not linguistics.”

“She also has an interest in pulsars,” Yates said.

“Surely there are other people with expertise in those,” Ian said, wondering why someone would have approached his wife anyway.

“Navigation using extra-galactic pulsars,” Yates clarified. “These pulsars happen to be the basis of the navigation charts we recovered from the aliens.”

“Great, why haven’t I seen that stuff all over the web?” Ian said. “It’s only useful if you’re traveling outside the solar system.” His statement came out of his mouth just as he realized the implications.

Travel by wormhole was in its infancy. Ian helped coordinate the missions as they traveled to and from the jump points. He then watched with a mix of awe and horror as the ships shimmered then disappeared in a flash of light. The awe sprung from the amazement man had harnessed the technology to travel between the stars. The horror came from the deep-seated fear each trip would attract the attention of the alien beings that had so ruthlessly attacked Earth for daring to leave our backyard. Now Jennifer was out there with them.

“Where did they take her?” Ian asked.

“That’s what I need you to find out,” Yates answered. The general looked to the door, picked up a duffle bag which had been lying on the floor next to the swing-chair unnoticed and said, “Let’s take a walk.”

Ian doubted his room was bugged. Who would bother? But, he was willing to humor General Yates to get to the bottom of where he thought Jennifer might have gone.

Yates led Ian through what seemed to be the darkest halls of Level 3 until they arrived at a stairwell nearly opposite of C-4. Ian held the door for the General and was surprised when he headed down the steps instead of up.

Ian rarely went this deep into the complex. Levels 4 and 5 consisted of enlisted and civilian living quarters. Yates did not stop at either of these levels. Instead, they continued down to Level 7, still under construction and finally stopped where a gate blocked anyone from going down further. Ian leaned over the railing. The air reeked of dust, oil, and sulfur released from the melted ice. Apparently, although construction was still on-going down to this level,
the steps had been constructed down into the ice for all ten levels which were planned.

Yates disengaged the lock on the gate blocking access to the lower stairs and started to go through.

Ian laid his hand on Yate’s arm. Something the General had said earlier finally clicked. “What do mean you don’t know where she went?”

Yates glanced back over his shoulder, verifying they were alone. “Jennifer was selected because of expertise in pulsar navigation and her familiarity with the alien navigation data.”

“She hasn’t worked on the nav stuff since we got back,” Ian said. He looked up the steps then leaned toward Yates. “Has she?”

“No,” Yates answered. “The intel wienies took everything off Cheyenne as soon as we docked. Jennifer got to work with only the quantum communications gear after that. The actual nav data got dumped into a hole so deep I can’t figure out where it went.”

“Then how do you know it got deciphered?” Ian wondered.

“I said I didn’t know what hole it went into,” Yates said. “I got hold of the deciphered stuff when it popped up in some of our stealth ship software updates. I also have…other sources.”

Ian shook his head and looked at Yates’ star. “Why would they keep that kind of stuff from you? Your guys are the ones bumping around the galaxy checking out the wormhole exits. If anyone needs the data, you do.”

“You want my best guess?”

“By all means, sir,” Ian said.

Yates motioned Ian through the gate. When they were both on the other side, Yates locked the gate again and led Ian down two levels worth of steps. Yates stopped on the landing for the future Level 9 and leaned close to Ian.

“I believe they found something in the ship’s data files – something too terrible or too wonderful to let out,” Yates said.

“Maybe it is just something about their military capabilities,” Ian said. “You know; the usual classified story.”

“Doesn’t feel like that,” Yates said and shook his head. “My people and I keep running into obstacles when we try to dig deeper. If it were just
information about the alien’s military or even something about their civilians, it wouldn’t be covered up so well. No, it’s something else.”

“Then why not just lock up that information?” Ian said.

Yates started walking again down a side corridor off the landing.

Ian hurried to catch up to Yate’s long strides.

“The nav data they tried to pass off as a software update came from Six, I’m sure of it. There was no way anyone got out ahead of my teams to map the stars it included. But, it was obviously incomplete. Usually, the updates covered only the star systems we had already visited. Someone slipped and sent out data before we got to the systems – if it was the entire Six database, there would be hundreds of star systems in it,” Yates said. “Why would you want to conceal the navigation data, though? Just dribble it out after it was already verified by our trips through the wormholes? And the other data we retrieved, what could it possibly contain which would be so explosive you would not even release it to those charged with fighting the aliens if they returned? Any ideas, Captain?”

Ian thought for a moment.

“We’re not supposed to find whatever was found in the data dump,” Ian finally answered.

“At least not before they get there first,” Yates said. He turned and continued down another unfinished corridor and came to stop in front of a sealed hatch.

“What could they have found?” Ian asked.

Yates ignored Ian’s questions. Instead, he simply asked, “You in?”

Ian looked from the door to Yates. He had no idea what the General had in mind.

“I need to find Jennifer.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Yates turned and swiped an access badge over a blank section of wall. The hatch slide open.

Ian followed Yates through the door and down a sloping tunnel. They had entered this series of corridors from Level 9. Ian figured each level took up about ten meters by the time you factored in foundations, overhead support
equipment and Europan ice left between the levels. If he was right, he was walking at least eighty meters below the surface, deeper than he had ever been. Yates led the way through two more airlocks and finally into a room lined with lockers. Ian estimated they had traveled at least two kilometers, well outside the acknowledged perimeter of the station.

Ian looked around the room. There was a Special Forces guard behind a clear bulletproof wall. He nodded at General Yates, ignored Ian and went back to monitoring the displays arrayed across his workstation.

Yates pulled open one of the lockers and tossed Ian a pressure suit.

“I assume you know how to use one of these,” Yates said.

“Why me?” Ian asked as he caught the suit.

Yates pulled out another suit and began to pull it on over his uniform.

“Would you rather I find someone else?” Yates asked without looking up.

“Not, it’s just that, well, you surely have other people working for you who would be better at a search and rescue mission than me.”

“I do.”

Ian was not sure how to take the last comment.

“Then why…” Ian started when Yates offered nothing more.

“Look, Langdon,” Yates said, cutting Ian off. “I trust you. If I’m right about what I think they’re trying to hide, you’re the one I want on the scene.”

“We keep talking about ‘they’,” Ian said. “Who exactly are we talking about?”

“Powerful people,” Yates said. He eyed Ian. “People we can’t afford to cross. But also people those of us who swore to defend the Constitution against ‘all enemies, foreign and domestic’, must cross.”

Ian digested the last statement. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Great.

“Why not just go yourself?” Ian asked.

“I can’t afford to let on I know anything about this,” Yates said, pausing in his suit preparations. “If I’m here, I can buy some time by keeping them from sending another ship.”

“I don’t know what’s going on back on Earth, sir” Ian said, swallowing hard. “But, I’ve trusted you before and I trust you now.”

“Thank you, Langdon,” Yates said, “That means more than you know.”

Ian pulled his suit on in silence. He joined Yates by the airlock hatch at the far side of the room.

“So,” Ian said, “would you care to at least share with me what you think they found?”

Yates locked eyes with Ian’s before responding.

“God.”

With that, Yates snapped his helmet into place and opened the outer hatch.

Perplexed, Ian followed. Maybe the old man had finally lost it after all.

Ian did not have much time to think about Yates statement. The airlock opened into a small hanger crammed with Special Ops gear. It was heaven for a tech junkie. “Dang,” Ian said, looking around, “you guys get all the good stuff.”

“SF gets whatever we need to do the job.”

Ian stopped in front of an open cockpit transport that looked a lot like a Harley Davidson motorbike - except this thing had an inertial-less drive and a pair of wicked looking mini rail guns mounted on either side of the craft.

“What’s the job?” Ian could not help asking.

“The usual; protect humanity and generally kick butt.” Before Ian could respone, Yates pointed out a small black spacecraft taking up nearly a third of the bay. “That’s your ride.”

Ian had seen some of the SF stealth ships before. But, he never thought he would be riding one of the ships himself. Coated with active camouflage, the ship was able to assume the same properties of its background. Turned off, as it was now, the coating reverted to black, which worked pretty well in most spots in deep space. The ship had a snub nose and flattened ovoid wings. The engines and jump drive were contained under a flared arch located at the rear of the ship.

“Everything you need is in here, including as much of the deciphered data as Jennifer had.” Yates handed Ian a medium sized data pad. He handed Ian the duffel bag he had been carrying. “Oh and you might need this.”

“You shouldn’t have, sir,” Ian said.

“I didn’t,” Yates responded. “I took the liberty of packing a few of your things while hanging out in your room.”

“Great, I have clean underwear for my trip to…where?” Ian said.

“The location and jump points are in here,” Yates said, taping the data pad.

“But, you said you didn’t know where she was,” Ian said.

“When I thought Jennifer had been approached, I had her personal data pad replaced with one containing a quantum link to this pad. Actually, it’s a link based on Jennifer’s work. Cool, huh?” Yates said. “They arrived at their destination a week ago. Then, we lost the signal.”

“So I just blast off and…what?” Ian said.

“Your mission is to locate Jennifer’s ship and find out what they were really searching for. And of course, protect humanity against all enemies foreign and domestic. I created a file for your eyes only on the data pad. It explains everything in more detail.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound too hard,” Ian said dryly. He looked into Yates’ eyes. “Sir, what do you hope to get out of this?”

Yates stared at Ian for a long time before answering.

“The truth.”

Ian still had no idea what he was looking for yet. He did know he had the chance to find Jennifer. For now, that was enough.

Star System 4576B

Far Space

“This is it, this is finally it!” James Monroe said. The mission diplomatic specialist turned his head from one side of his split screen display to the other. “The pulsar correlation is exact!”

Jennifer nodded as she hovered a pace back from the open table in the middle of the command room. She had run the study, knew the results.

“Looks like the squid database was useful after all,” Captain Charles Merck said. He tapped his US Naval Academy ring on the table. “It’s about time.”

Jennifer said nothing. She had come to dislike most of the crew almost as soon as they had embarked on this mission. When she had signed on to find an alien world, she had no idea the process would take nearly five weeks. After all, they had the database for the location and the wormhole indices that theoretically should have led directly here.

Kalvin Mason, the mission’s senior researcher, looked up from the display.

“Excellent job, Jennifer, excellent!”

Mason, the kind of academic you always hoped to get for an instructor or mentor but never seemed to find, was one of the few people Jennifer trusted on this trip. He was brilliant in his field of genetics but absolutely clueless on personal interactions. Jennifer loved the sweet man for his earnestness and enthusiasm anyway.

“Now maybe we can get a crack at those squid,” Tom MacGregor muttered. “Been stuck on this crate long enough.”

“That you will!” Mason said, missing the dripping tone of the comment. “That you will. And perhaps Quade will be able to tell us a little of their language.”

Jennifer glanced over at Quade Pierce, leaning back against the wall. She had not seen him do much of anything during the journey. Where did the people who put this mission together get the likes of Pierce and MacGregor anyway? They were the last two she wanted around when Monroe attempted first contact.

Jennifer had tried to pick Quade’s brain about the alien language. All they had to learn from were snippets of the ships log and some other, seemingly
uncorrelated database they had recovered. He grudgingly shared what he knew. Jennifer found out rather quickly this was not much. As it turned out, Quade Pierce’s strong suit was actually computer programming. He had designed a program to collect, analyze and interpret the alien language. But he needed spoken samples to make it work properly.

When Jennifer found the complete archive of information from the alien ship had not been included in the data files, she approached Quade again. He did not know anything about any missing files. His preliminary program was based on the samples of the data he had been given and he had no reason to think her discovery would be of any help to him.