Second Earth (15 page)

  
“Okay, so where are
all the intrusion detection satellites, and why do we suddenly get the green
light to fly here and go down to the planet’s surface?”

  
“Good question.
Want to hear another guess?”

  
Shawn smiled. “Two
in one conversation? That’s a new record.”

  
“I’m breaking new
ground,” she smiled back half-heartedly. “So my father gets sent out here to
retrieve the details of the weapon program, but he goes missing. Thus, they
send out a fleet in response.”

  
“But not to recover
him.”

  
She shrugged. “On
this train of thought we’re on, I’d agree only in part. Finding him was
probably a secondary concern.”

  
“They want the
secret weapon information.”

  
Melissa smirked.
“Yep.”

  
“Because the
Kafarans are rearming?”

  
“Possibly. It’s also
very likely that the Kafarans aren’t rearming at all, and the OSI and Sector
Command have cooked up this whole thing just to get their hands on the weapon.”

  
Shawn let out an
exasperated sigh. “That’d be a
big
stretch.”

  
“But a necessary
one if they want to keep this program a secret. Remember, Cal Vross has been
here on several occasions and he wasn’t challenged a single time. He looted
countless weapons from the surface before the OSI located him.”

  
“And he doesn’t
have the skill to remove or deactivate the satellites.”

  
“Exactly. And,
speaking of Vross, do you remember when I scanned him back on Darus Station?”

  
Shawn narrowed his
eyes. “Vaguely.”

  
“Well, I took those
readings, as well as the scan I took of the charred pulse rifles, down to the
molecular biology lab after we got back. The results came back a few days ago.
Want to know what they said?”

  
Shawn nodded
silently.

  
“The readings show
an anomaly in his genetic makeup, a type never before seen. It was also on the
weapons he’d looted, but in substantially less quantities.”

  
“What kind of
anomaly?”

  
“The same kind I
got when I scanned the crater at Delta Base, and I’m speculating that we’ll get
something similar from the samples of remains Raven acquired.”

  
Shawn brought a hand
to his mouth and rubbed it slowly as he pondered. “Epsilon-6?”

  
“That’s what I’m
thinking. I won’t know for certain until I get a viable sample to compare it
to.”

  
Shawn tilted his
head back and scratched at his throat. There were so many questions running
through his mind, he found it difficult to pick one. “Okay, so, assuming we’re
right on track, who has the ability to disable the orbiting satellites we
failed to find? The Kafarans?”

  
She shook her head.
“No. The satellites’ sensors were specially encoded to scan for Kafaran
emissions, which are unique to their vessels, as well as those of anyone who
aligned themselves with them during the war. If any of them had come within
five thousand miles of the planet, Sector Command would have known about it in
less time than it takes to make a peanut butter sandwich.”

  
“Then who?” Shawn
said, both hands raised. “Not Sector Command itself?”

  
Melissa nodded.
“And not the OSI. These satellites weren’t simply deactivated and then turned
back on when whoever was finished with the planet. Even if they would’ve worked
together to do it, Sector Command and the OSI couldn’t have easily done it. No,
those satellites are gone. Someone not only neutralized them without being
detected, they also stole them as well.”

  
“Why would someone
want to steal a bunch of satellites?” Shawn asked in bewilderment.

  
Melissa could only
offer a shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. If we assume that the Kafarans aren’t
rearming as well, why would Sector Command want to get their hands back on this
weapon? From all we’ve seen, I think it’d be better off buried—both for the
sake of peace, and the stability of the Unified government.”

  
Kestrel’s stomach
began to grumble in dissatisfaction, and he was reminded of the second reason
he had come down to Melissa Graves’ cabin. He walked over to the food cart and
withdrew the dinner the yeoman had brought them earlier.

  
“Just put them in
the oven for a few seconds,” Melissa said.

  
“What? You have an
oven in here, too?”

  
Melissa frowned and
pointed to the appliance, which was built into a small alcove near the table.
As Shawn placed the two food trays inside, the all-too-familiar female voice of
the computer spoke up.

  
“Food item
accepted. Please state the cooking duration and temperature.”

  
“Sixty seconds at
three hundred fifty degrees, please.”

  
There was a cursory
beep from the machine, followed by an unnerving buzz. “This appliance is coded
to the cabin of Agent Melissa Graves. You are not authorized to use this
appliance, and your presence in her cabin without her knowledge constitutes a
breach of security. Security will be notified. Please remain where you are.”

  
Shawn turned to the
compartment door in time to see the indicator beside it turn to amber,
signifying that the door was now magnetically locked. He spun around and leaned
his face closer to the appliance. “I didn’t break in here so I could bake some
cookies, you lousy hunk of tin!”

  
“Irrelevant, Lieutenant
Commander Kestrel. Security is being notified of your breach.”

  
Melissa chuckled
and walked toward the oven, placing a gentle hand on Shawn’s shoulder as she
approached. “Sorry,” she whispered into his ear. “Computer, disregard the
notification to security, please.”

  
“Agent Graves,
there is an unauthorized presence in your cabin,” the contraption chimed
happily.

  
“I’m aware of that,
computer.”

  
“Has Lieutenant
Commander Kestrel been neutralized?” the female voice chimed.

  
“You see,” Shawn
exclaimed, looking at Melissa but pointing at the machine. “This is what I have
to deal with when it comes to these computers.”

  
“Funny,” she
replied pensively. “I never seem to have any problems. It must be your way with
women.”

  
“Ha-ha.”

  
“Computer,” Melissa
began warmly while placing a loving hand on the top of the oven. “Lieutenant
Commander Kestrel is authorized to be in my cabin at all times, whether I am
here or not.”

  
“Really?” Shawn
asked in surprise.

  
“Confirm?” the
computer responded, apparently just as perplexed.

  
“Yes,” Melissa said
as she turned to face Shawn. “Really. Besides, Commander Kestrel is quite
harmless.”

  
With a series of
beeps, the computer assimilated the information. “Confirmed. So noted in the
database,” it said. “Ready for query.”

  
Shawn gave the
computerized oven a look of annoyance, not sure of which part of Melissa’s
statement the computer was affirming.

  
Melissa smiled at
his expression. “Run the last command given by Commander Kestrel.”

  
The computer ran
the programming sequence for the oven just as Shawn had requested, and set the
computer for sixty seconds, more than enough time to reheat their meals. A
minute later, the door slid open and Shawn withdrew the steaming food trays,
then placed them on the table.

  
“You see,” she
started. “It’s not that hard to get the computer to do what you want.”

  
Shawn shook his
head. “I’m sorry, but I refuse to pander to a computer just so it will take
orders. And I’m sure as heck not going to caress it lovingly so it will
listen.”

  
When the two were
seated at the table, Melissa reached for her glass, but was stopped in
midmotion by Shawn clearing his throat.

  
“Would you mind
terribly if I said grace?”

  
Melissa smiled. “I
think, all things considered, that would be…lovely.”

  
Shawn said a word
of prayer, not only for them, but for the lives lost on Second Earth. When he
was finished, they eagerly began eating.

   
“You know,” Shawn
began with a mouth half full of food a minute into their meal. “I don’t see the
Kafarans stealing them. The orbiting satellites, I mean.”

  
“Really?”

  
“Yeah. They would
just as soon destroy them than take them out of the system, assuming they could
get close enough to do so without being detected.”

  
“You’re suggesting
they have some type of cloaking technology?” The words sounded a lot less
ridiculous than she thought they would, and Shawn seemed to ponder them
seriously before grinning.

  
“Okay, now you’re
delving into pure fantasy. The ability to hide an entire ship from normal
sensors goes against the laws of physics.”

  
“So did
interstellar jumping two hundred years ago,” she pointed out matter-of-factly.

  
“No disrespect, but
don’t go getting all crazy-lady on me again. Let’s try to keep this conversation
somewhat
rooted in reality.”

  
Melissa put down
her fork and folded her hands on the tabletop. “Okay. Then what, Mister
Smarty-Pants?”

  
Shawn put another
forkful of meat into his mouth. “Maybe something as simple as a sensor jammer.
If they had the right frequency, they could probably do it.”

  
Melissa shook her
head as she scooped up a forkful of corn. “Each of the satellites operates on a
different modulation to prevent such an overt attack.”

  
“My point exactly.
Maybe this is some new weapon that could jam the whole lot of them at once.”

  
She looked at him
dubiously. “You’re talking about a signal that could circumnavigate the globe
in a matter of picoseconds. That seems about as unlikely as a cloaking device.”

  
“You’re the one who
dove headfirst into fantasyland in the first place.”

  
She couldn’t help
but chuckle. “Yes—and the water was so warm you came in right after me.”

  
“Touché.” He
grabbed another forkful, this time of mashed potatoes, and stuck it in his
mouth.

  
There was a marked
silence between them as they each contemplated the motives of an enemy they
still knew nothing about. The fact that the Unified Government was behind a
galactic-scale cover-up didn’t sit well with either of them. They finished the
rest of their meal in near-silence, each occasionally looking out the large
view port window and wondering what had happened at this place, each wishing
they had time-travel goggles that would allow them to witness who had been here
and for what purpose. Melissa abruptly stood from the table and withdrew a blue
bottle of wine from a nearby cabinet, but Shawn couldn’t immediately tell if it
was the liquid or the glass that was colored. After pouring two glasses she
took her seat once more.

  
She swirled the
blue liquid around her goblet before taking a tentative sip. The liquid tasted
sweet on her tongue, like fresh-picked strawberries. “What do you think we’ll
find on Corvan?”

  
“I don’t know,”
Shawn replied as he reached for his glass. “I’m sure whatever research your
father encoded on the disk will be helpful. It’d be easier to take a look at it
than to speculate.”

  
She smiled. “Yeah,
we’re pretty good at formulating wild ideas as it is.”

  
Shawn stepped out
from behind the table and sat down at the nearby computer terminal. Glad that
it seemed to respond effortlessly—and wordlessly—to his commands, he went about
transferring all the data from the drive into an encrypted directory on the
computer itself, then shunted it over to the holographic display matrix
embedded in the tabletop near where Melissa was seated. He returned to his wine
just in time to see a small holographic input matrix appear a few inches above
the table in front of him. He entered the necessary commands into the spectral
keyboard, accessing the root directory of the media, and brought up an image of
the contents of the device. The first folder he came to was labeled “Project
Windstorm.”