Black Infinity Page 4

  Rock nodded in approval and looked to Marge to give her rehearsed presentation, thinking they would finally get their message across and maybe elicit action from this administration.

  Marge, on the other hand, had a different idea. “What do you mean the military has its own communications access?”

  Several stares came her way, but she ignored them. The president herself answered: “There are protocols for direct communication between our military assets on the Red Horizon and their command structure here ... in Washington, D.C.” Not Houston, Rock thought with a grimace. The president’s tone said it all.

  “Are there military communications at this time?” Marge asked, ever the scientist.

  President Powers looked to her Joint Chief of Staff, who shook his head, then turned to look back across the table at Marge before saying, “Not at this time, though the two systems are redundant, so if the military communications return, your command-and-control comms will do the same. Isn’t that right, Dave?”

  “Yes, Madam president. NASA will have the same abilities that our military assets do.”

  Powers finished, “So, Doctor Jones, if you want to discuss radio communications, command and control procedures, as well as NASA versus armed forces priorities, we can do that all day. I was under the impression, however, that you had something a bit more urgent for our meeting. Am I mistaken?”

  Rock gave Marge the look he usually reserved for Mister Smith, and with a deep sigh, Marge said, “No, you’re not mistaken.”

  “Excellent, then,” Powers said. “Director Crandon, we have business to discuss regarding the lunar base as well as the Black Infinity, but not at this time or place. I’ll ensure we discuss this before the day is over, as you’ll need to coordinate with the NSA and Admiral Nicholson on staffing assignments.”

  “Understood, Madam President,” Rock said.

  “Proceed, then, Director Crandon.” Powers shifted her gaze back to Marge.

  Rock sighed and refrained from rolling his eyes. The president wasn’t making this easy on him. He cleared his throat, and very deliberately looked at Marge. “Thank you, Madam President. I will turn the floor over to Doctor Marjorie Jones for the presentation on the findings of the alien DNA that we’ve prepared for the executive branch.” Rock hoped that would serve as an eloquent segue into the NASA presentation. He was wrong.

  “Ahem,” the Senate Minority Leader said, half clearing her own throat and half forcing the sound from her chest. “There are more than just members from this administration in attendance, Director Crandon, or is your political affiliation more important than your post as NASA Administrator?”

  “Of course not,” Rock said, regretting his oversight of the legislative branch in attendance this morning. Usually he didn’t have to contend with more politicians than those from the current administration—or their egos. “My apologies to members of Congress in attendance. We weren’t expecting a multi-branch meeting this morning and—”

  The president interrupted him, turning to address the senator: “Save it for the cameras, Pam.”

  “Then run a tighter ship, Gloria!” Senate Minority Leader Horton shot back, slamming a hand on the table for emphasis.

  The women exchanged looks and Rock struggled to recall their history together in the Senate, before the president had been elected to her current post.

  President Powers reluctantly pulled her gaze away from the senator and said tersely to Rock, “Start your presentation ... now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Rock said, turning to his side, “Marge, go ahead.”

  While not always the most socially adept at times, Marge understood an impending fight when she saw one and quickly began. “Seeing as we’re short on time this morning, I’ll present my thesis statement first, then the introduction. The alien genetic coding is not for the benefit of our species, but rather for the alien species’.”

  There was a pause and Rock said softly, “Give your introduction.”

  Marge abstractedly pulled a strand of sandy blond hair back behind her ear, and she did so again before resuming. “In general, we have assessed the genetic coding found in the alien lunar artifact as beneficial in nature to homo-sapiens. Our conclusion for this assessment derives directly from our own current knowledge of the DNA structure that makes up the human genome. It is advanced enough for us to understand the implications of the DNA coding found in the alien device; specifically, that it appears beneficial to us as a species.”

  “We know this already and you said the same thing twice,” the President’s Science Advisor said. “What’s your point?”

  Marge shot back, “My point, other than the fact that some individuals within our genetic society lack the proper genome coding for patience, is that the context in which we are assessing the DNA sequencing, and its associated conclusions, are falsely based.”

  The Science Advisor snorted but was beaten to the punch by the vice president. “I read your report and I think you’re referring to the conclusion that the coding of human DNA was actually engineered for the alien’s benefit and not ours.”

  “The part where humans are supposed to be like food or slaves?” Senator Horton asked.

  “No,” Marge said. “That’s what the news media and others report. While possible, I believe that the actual DNA coding was optimized to evolve homo sapiens into a weapon caste.”

  The vice president shuffled through the report and said, “I found it. You state, and I begin quote, that the armorlike scales, along with increased muscle mass, point to a proclivity for a warrior caste designed to engage in combat in order to achieve the objectives of the unidentified, extrinsic entity, end quote.”

  “That’s why we skim over those scientific reports,” The house leader stated with a shake of his head.

  “Can you give it to us in plain English?” Mister Smith asked.

  Marge went straight to the point, “The DNA coding appears optimized to turn our species into a sort of biological weapon.”

  There was a murmur around the room before the president hushed everyone and asked Marge, “This is your opinion only, not the one we’ve received from the scientific community at large?”

  The coding had generally been well distributed once it was deciphered and then leaked online, and most universities, scientific research centers, and half the world’s sovereign nations had taken an interest in the genome coding, comparing it to their own research to date, as well as progress in genetic engineering. Most of the world’s scientists felt the coding was beneficial to humans, as the genome gave a perfect representation of how a healthy human should appear like—at least genetically and from a health-centric perspective.

  “Yes, I formulated this hypothesis based on my research and prior work done on the subject,” Marge said.

  “So you’re saying that you’re right and everyone else is wrong?” the Senate Minority Leader turned to look at Marge.

  Rock leaned forward and spoke up before Marge could answer that question. “Senator, with all due respect to the scientific community at large, Doctor Marjorie Jones has performed ground breaking work in the field of astrobiology while tenured with the SETI program and her prior educational foundation includes a PhD in Anthropology as well as General Anatomy.”

  “Which...” President Powers said, urging Rock to continue.

  “Which certifies Doctor Jones as an expert on the subject matter. To that end, I’d say she is correct and leave it at that.” Rock tried to lean back and nearly lost his balance. The damn chairs in the room tilted forward and backward too easily.

  The room went quiet for far too long. Eyes started to turn from the NASA team members to the president, and even the outspoken senator remained silent. It took a moment before President Powers asked Marge, “What is your conclusion, then, of this alien species and their base on Mars?”

  Marge looked around the room before answering, her voice and tone serious. “I’m afraid to say I believe that our crew, and the entire planet, are
in grave danger.”

  “What kind of danger, Doctor Jones?” the president asked. “Is the danger imminent? Is there an attack we need to defend against?”

  Marge shook her head and as the many stern faces stared at her. “I don’t know, Madam President. I highly suspect the alien intent is malevolent and not benign.”

  “Which is it?” the Science Advisor asked. “Do you know or do you only suspect?”

  “No one can know for sure,” Marge said, her voice starting to falter. “I hope I’m wrong, but we should ... no, we must prepare for the worst.”

  “Gloria, are we really going to entertain doomsayer notions like this?” the advisor asked, scoffing at Marge’s words.

  Rock stood and his chair almost hit Jack, who quickly moved his legs out of the way as it rocketed backwards. Its impact made a dull thud that reverberated across the room. Pointing a finger at the advisor, he said, “When our citizens are dying by the millions, I’ll be sure you get full credit for your thesis leading to the extinction of the human race.”

  “Yeah,” Jack stood in support of his boss, gesturing with a finger at the science advisor. Both Lisa and Marge sat silently.

  Admiral Nicholson, seated a few chairs down, spoke softly. “Damn. It appears Major Carter’s training was quite effective.”

  An awkward silence ensued, finally broken by a lone voice muttering almost inaudibly further down the table: “That’s just great.”

  Chapter 3

  Treason

  PEOPLE’S REPUBLIC SPACE Command

  Beijing, China

  In the near future, Year 4, Day 178

  THE SUN HAD SET, AND it was getting late, not that their windowless command center would give them a chance to look outside and see this for themselves. No, the Chinese space team had been wrapped up in their work for the last several days, trying hard to ignore the fact that there was no longer any real military command structure around them. Even their liaison officer, Captain Fan Zhou, had been absent for the last two days. It was odd to see his work station vacant for so long.

  “Are you alright, sir?” Chief Engineer Chang Fu asked, coming to a stop at his boss’s console.

  Hun Lee, Director of the People’s Republic Space Command, looked up from his seat where he had been deep in thought. “I’m fine, Chang, thanks for asking. How are you this evening?”

  “As well as can be expected, sir. Do you know when we’ll see our military officer again?”

  Hun shook his head. “I know the same that you do; nothing more, nothing less.”

  Chang reached into his pocket about to pull out the white-noise maker, but Hun shook his head and stood up.

  “No need for that now. Let’s take a stroll outside, shall we?”

  “Sir?” Chang looked confused.

  Hun stretched his arms out wide and even allowed a stiff yawn—most unbecoming for a man in his position, but at this point he didn’t care about appearances. “In fact, let’s invite the rest of our team. Lin, Chon?” He motioned for the others to follow. They had both been watching the conversation and the simple gesture was all that was needed.

  It took a couple of minutes to get past security. The usual armed guards and the group kept their wireless headsets on as they opened the main doors to the control center building and stepped outside. Hun purposely walked off the broad main walkway of gleaming stamped concrete and the group walked on the well-groomed grass, past the planter beds, towards the first corner of their building.

  “Can we do this?” Lin asked, looking up at one of the security cameras housed in small, tinted glass half-domes.

  “I don’t see anyone here to stop us,” Hun said. “Besides, I’m not aware of any procedure against walking on the grass.”

  The others shrugged and followed their boss around the building as he headed towards a small pond that was more decorative than anything. They passed it and kept going towards the outer fence bordering on an adjacent road. The barred iron kept people out, but not their inquisitive looks.

  “I think we’re out of Bluetooth range,” Chon said, tapping his headset. Of course the signal engineer was still calculating everything to do with their mission protocols, Hun thought.

  “Yes, this should be far enough.” Hun turned to face his group, then unceremoniously pulled a foot up to his opposing knee and proceeded to take one shoe and sock off, then the other. He ignored the looks he was receiving from his mission team and, setting the shoes down, socks tucked neatly in each one, began to pace back and forth a few feet, allowing the cool grass to grace his skin. He stopped and scrunched his toes into the ground, tilted his head back, and closed his eyes, enjoying the cool autumn breeze that wafted across them. It was almost easy to ignore the background noise of traffic, the one and only thing to mar the peaceful scene before them.

  Lin was the first to speak, and Hun had expected as much. “Ah, forgive my question, sir, but what are we doing here?”

  Hun opened his eyes, looked back at his team, and smiled, allowing a small chuckle to follow. The first in many months. “I figured we might as well enjoy some fresh air, as well as a small part of nature, while we have the chance.” It was a slightly inaccurate statement, as Beijing had constantly struggled with air quality for the last few decades, but the sight and sound of anything from the outdoors was welcome after so much time spent cooped up in their command center under the watchful gaze of the military.

  “This has to do with our....” Lin searched for the right word. “Lack of oversight?”

  “Yes, if you wish to see it in that context.” Hun looked at the trio of expectant faces and continued. He had made his decision yesterday and only now decided to execute it. “We find ourselves in uncharted waters once again. There has been no direction from General Wang for the last three days, and even our liaison officer has left us as well as the military security contingent.” One would think that military security would be more professional than the normal civilian security that they had always enjoyed. One would be disappointed.

  Chang turned to look back at their command and control building, a multi-storied, large square of mainly concrete, then turned to face his boss. “I welcome autonomy for our space program, but what good does it do to have it if our communications are non-existent?”

  “Facilities maintenance has fixed the heating and cooling systems within the control rooms for our satellite antennas,” Hun said. “They should be able to go online again by tomorrow morning, so long as the Dragon and Tiger have continued their transmissions. I can’t speak for the military assets that have been implemented since the arrival at Mars, but I can say that the last order that was successfully relayed was a military one that obviously resulted in something less than successful.”

  “How do you know this?” Chang asked.

  “What else could it be? Not long after the order, General Wang gave the codes needed for radio interference of the other space programs. Within hours, our own communications were sabotaged as well.”

  “You were privy to this?” Lin asked, her voice low.

  Hun nodded and then looked at Chon, his chief signals technician. “I think it’s time we informed the rest of our team?”

  Chon nodded and kept his head down.

  Hun continued. “I had Chon place an encrypted data program within the transceivers of the Divine Dragon and the Roaring Tiger. The program transmits data only; telemetry, text, that sort of information. There are no video or audio feeds—that would have used too much bandwidth. The secondary data program has resulted in our ability to at least ‘see’ what was happening on board our ships.”

  The use of the possessive our was noted by his team with interest. “You intercepted the military orders?” Lin asked, her voice tinged with a mixture of awe and fear.

  “No. I’m not that suicidal, and besides, the military could have decided something like that would border on traitorous grounds, enough to punish an offender’s family, even.” The reference to shared punishment was understood
by everyone. “However, the data could be explained as simply a way to monitor a ship’s functions in much the same way we do overtly in the command center, albeit without military censorship of said data.”

  Lin continued her line of questioning. “So we can basically see what is happening, though we will not understand what was ordered?”

  “Correct,” Hun said. “The second-to-last data received was a text communique from Commander Sun that the Roaring Tiger was going to use our commandoes to board and commandeer the American ship.”

  “The Red Horizon?” Lin asked.

  “How could they do that?” Chon asked.

  Lin cut in again. “Is the politburo aware of this?”

  Hun held his hands up to stop the onslaught of questions. “Please, one at a time. The Red Horizon was indeed the primary target, though two special forces commandoes landed planetside and engaged the Americans.”

  Chon shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  Lin lowered her voice and the others strained to hear her. “General Wang has lost his mind. The Americans will retaliate for sure.”

  “I don’t think they are aware...” Chon chimed in. “Yet.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, her facial expression displaying fear and surprise. She looked directly at her boss. “Hun, sir, please tell me this didn’t happen.”

  Hun lowered his gaze for a moment and found the courage to tell her face to face. “I’m afraid so, and it gets worse.”

  “How much?” Chon asked.

  “I said ‘second-to-last communication received’ for a reason....” Hun paused, to look at his team one by one before dropping the bomb on them. “The last data transmission was a text informing us that a nuclear attack had been intercepted in midflight and that both teams failed at their missions—one on Mars and the other in orbit. This last one resulted in the loss of the Roaring Tiger to a counterattack by the American commandoes.” Despite being a SEAL team, most Chinese civilians simply referred to all special military teams as commandoes.