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Michael smiled. "If it is, I'll make sure to send you an advance press release. And now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen."
The look on Ian Pocetello's face was a mix of concern over the emergency, and relief that he would not be corralled that night.
The timing was horrible, but Michael had to get back and a.s.sess the situation; he trusted Calbert not to exaggerate any catastrophe. If anything, his aide was apt to understate the case; and that scared years off Michael's life. If damage control was needed, he had to get to the SMD event center quickly.
As Michael turned to go, Alliras said, "You don't mind if I tag along?" He read the emotion on Michael's face, and knew that the message was more important than lobbying the finance minister.
"Please do." Michael said it as casually as he could.
Alliras motioned to one of his aides, who hurried over. "Please inform our wives we've been called away, and see that they get home safely."
"Certainly, sir." The man gave a quick nod, and hurried off.
Making apologies as they left, Michael and Alliras made their way out of the St. Lawrence Charity Hall, and into the Minister's awaiting limo.
"Dammit," Michael cursed once they were inside the vehicle. "Two months trying to get into the same room with Ian Pocatello, and this happens."
He handed the memo to his superior. Before reading it, Alliras commented, "A bit medieval, sending a message on plastic. Quaint, as the Honerable Ian Pocatello put it, but still medieval."
"It's something that Calbert initiated; public thought-comm traffic is mimocorded by the government. CSIS has legislation allowing them to monitor any thought-comm or AV conversation, even encoded transmissions. Even the CCP can get access to the Corp's messaging system, in a crunch. A hand-delivered message is about the most secure form of communication available to us, as ironic as that is."
"Ironic," the Minister repeated.
"If one of the CSIS agents, or even a worker at the communications network, is of the disgruntled variety, there's always the chance of them selling any vital information over the border. We normally have a code we use over the thought-comm network, but I turned off my system for the charity function."
Alliras read the plastic slip inside the envelope. He whistled. "What does this mean?"
"I'm going to find out soon enough," Michael replied, already tapping in the number for a direct AV comm line to Calbert Loche, powered under SMD's private and secured lines, to allow his superior to listen in. An AV comm, conducted through thought-link patches, could be heard by one person on either end of the transmission.
"What about your internal security?" Alliras prompted.
As the signal beeped that transmission was taking place, Michael answered, "We have our own code for department lines, just like your office, I a.s.sume. We use it for emergencies, so no one will have enough examples to decode."
"You take your history lessons to heart, I see."
"I learned from my superior, rather than from textbooks," Michael complimented. Alliras nodded in concession.
To his consternation, Michael's call was bounced to Raymond Magrath, Calbert's capable a.s.sistant.
"What's going on?" Michael demanded. "I got the message. Where's Calbert? Get him on the line."
Raymond looked sheepish. "Sorry, Director; Calbert has his hands full. I know he needs to speak to you, though. Urgently." He struggled to think of what could be said over what pa.s.sed for a "secure" line.
"There's a...a kind of 152, but of indeterminate substance or identification."
Michael chewed on his lip.
"And...?" he pressed after a moment.
"Also, a 489."
"Oh. d.a.m.n." He nodded to the a.s.sistant. "We're already on our way. Fifteen minutes."
"Thank you, Director." The a.s.sistant severed the connection.
Michael hung up the comm line.
"So what's a 152 and 489?" The Minister asked, raising one brow.
"A 152 is a 'Find.' A discovery of a mineral or ore lode."
"That's good, then."
"Indeterminate. We get an average of a dozen 152s a week.
"-A 489," Michael informed him solemnly, "we don't get so often. It means there's been an accident, and there are multiple deaths involved."
The silence in the limo stretched out for a full minute, and then Alliras nodded.
"Then by all means, let's not spare the horses."
USA, Inc. Exploration Site : Mission Orcus 1 Orcus 1 : : Pluto :
On the bridge DMR cas.e.m.e.nt of the DMR cas.e.m.e.nt of the Orcus 1 Orcus 1, and simulcast on their workstation monitors and palm puters, the NASA insignia appeared along with the emblems from the Canadian s.p.a.ce Exploration division, the European s.p.a.ce Agency, the j.a.pan Conglomeration s.p.a.ce Enterprises, and the People's Republic of China s.p.a.ce Program, all of whom had joined the Pluto mission under NASA authority.
Justine scrutinized every digiface character that appeared on the screen.
The report had been sent in binary code; a video uplink was thought too expensive for routine communications. The power requirements of AV at that distance were astronomical, to say the least.
The computer translated the message: *
To: Orcus 1
From: Mission Control, NASA, USA, Inc.
Re: Dis Pater
Message: The glyph on the last row, last column is confirmed as Mayan Hieroglyph, circa 700 AD
Translation: "Behold the Mighty Door of Kinich Ahua; Eternity is Now Before You; Be Ware the Power of Kukulcan."
Orders: Discontinue initial mission. Dis Pater Dis Pater primary priority. Local authority granted. primary priority. Local authority granted.
Signed: CEO Frank Madison, USA, Inc.
Director William Tuttle, NASA CEO Pierre Dolbeau, Canada Corp.
Thomas Granville, Minister of CSE Dir. La.s.sen Kruger, ESA Dir. Vic Tong, j.a.pan Cong. s.p.a.ce enterprises Honorable Tung Jo, PRC s.p.a.ce program *
Loud conversation broke out immediately, threatening to escalate into argument.
"What does that mean, 'Behold the Mighty Door of Kinich Ahua; Eternity is Now Before You; Be Ware the Power of Kukulcan'?"
"And what does 'local authority' mean?"
"What do they expect us to do?"
"Who is going to be in charge? The Mission Chief? Or the Science Chief?"
Johan Belcher asked, "Are there any more details?"
"No."
Henrietta had a concerned look on her face. "Are they keeping us in the dark on purpose?"
"Is there more? Does Captain Turner have a private message?" George Eastmain demanded.
That last question brought silence as all turned to her for an answer. Justine, in turn, glanced at Helen. "Is "Is there anything for me?" there anything for me?"
The First Mate/Navigator of the mission blinked a number of times. It was against regulations to reveal even the existence of coded military messages to the Science Team, but it was obvious the captain wanted to allay suspicion among the Team.
Slowly, she nodded, yes. yes.
"Bring it up."
Helen hesitated. "Captain," she began to protest.
"Bring it up," Justine reiterated, her tone forceful and full of command. She brooked no disobedience.
"Very well." The Canadian turned to her comm computer and tapped in a few pa.s.sages, giving the preliminary codes. She turned to Justine. "Captain?"
Nodding, Justine said out loud, "Voice print confirmation: Captain Justine Churchill Turner, Orcus 1 Orcus 1. Security Code: Alpha-Alpha-Alpha-Zeta-Alpha-Turkey-Chicken-Rat." There were a few chuckles, despite the tension.
The on-board AI replied, "Confirmation acknowledged, Captain."
Justine added in a mock imperious tone, "Just so everyone knows, I'm changing the code after this." That elicited a few more chuckles.
On the bridge DMR cas.e.m.e.nt, the NASA insignia was replaced by the CEO of USA, Inc.'s official emblem. Unlike the binary EPS, this message was an AV communication, with a length of two minutes, fourteen seconds. The cost for that brief message was in the thousands of dollars.
On screen, the image of CEO Frank Madison and Director William Tuttle appeared, both seated on a couch in Camp David.
The Director spoke first. "I won't waste time, Captain Turner. No doubt you received the translation of the inscription on that artifact yew called Dis Pater Dis Pater by now. I know, I know. The words mean nothing without a frame of reference. We've got top Mayanologists and cryptologists working on it right now with our best technical and theological experts. by now. I know, I know. The words mean nothing without a frame of reference. We've got top Mayanologists and cryptologists working on it right now with our best technical and theological experts.
"For now, I want you to inform the Science Team that they should proceed with utmost care, but with utmost urgency in trying to solve the mystery of Dis Pater Dis Pater; we need as much information as possible."
The CEO, the most powerful man in America-and some said, the world-interrupted the Director.
"Since the discovery, we've had a number of summit meetings with the involved agencies represented by the Science Team up there, as well as with most of the other countries. There is a widespread movement to make public any and all findings. But the five agencies who are in cooperation on this project are in a position to keep the upper hand with our discovery.
"It's political chaos down here. It is imperative that we have some solid information before making any kind of arrangement with any country outside the five. Therefore, we are depending on you to ride herd on those scientists up there. Bring us something we can use."
The Director of NASA took over again. "Justine, no matter what, I want you to make sure no lives are in danger. Come back to us safely. There's a promotion waiting for you upon arrival." He smiled and gave a quick nod of his head.
The NASA insignia transposed itself over the frozen image, and then the cas.e.m.e.nt went blank.
The argument that threatened to boil over from the collected scientists was cut off as Helen's voice cut through the growing roar of protest.
"Captain! We've got something on the spectrograph sensor at the artifact site.'
She stared up at Justine, her eyes widened to the size of saucers.
"It's the Dis Pater Dis Pater."
Her voice throaty, she spoke in a breathless rush. "It's...reacting."