Nat scanned the menu for a moment. “This is a pretty standard document-management system. Let’s see what we can find.”

  “Allow me, Natalie. I can scan and analyze the contents more quickly than you.”

  The laptop started flashing through screens faster than we humans could follow. Natalie leaned back, a surprised expression on her face. “You hacked my laptop?”

  “Not at all. Standard man-in-the-middle attack. I am, after all, your Wi-Fi hotspot. I’ve merely taken over the client connection.”

  “But that’s encrypt—” Nat sighed. “Never mind.”

  “Finally!” Sheldon crowed. “Signs of intelligence.”

  I pointed to a small window at the bottom left of the screen that said “Downloading,” and “Thirty-four files.” The number fluctuated up and down.

  “Looks like Sheldon is queueing interesting files for download,” Nat said.

  There was a yell in Lorannic from the video window still displaying activity on the third floor.

  “What’re they saying?” Patrick asked.

  “They are currently discussing why Marc is both logged in remotely and standing right there. Of more concern to me is—”

  There was an abrupt bang from the video view from Karen’s keyboard. Loud voices yelled in Lorannic, combined with the sounds of furniture being pushed around. Then the view rotated wildly as Karen’s keyboard was picked up. The window stabilized with an upside-down close-up of Marc’s face, livid with anger. He reached forward and the window abruptly went blank.

  “An unfortunate turn of events. I expect our remote connection will shortly—” Before Sheldon could finish the sentence, Nat’s laptop screen went black except for the single message: “Connection terminated.”

  “Well,” Nat said, “looks like I’m out of a job.”

  “Why?” Patrick frowned.

  “My fob was used to log into Marc’s account. Even if I report the fob lost, I’m toast.”

  “What did you manage to get, Sheldon?” I asked.

  “I’m evaluating. A lot of fairly pedestrian items, news reports and the like. Several files were only partially downloaded. But there’s also some very interesting data, such as many more names of collaborationists and blackmail victims.”

  Nat clapped her hands and brightened up considerably. “Then it was worth it, at least. Let’s wait until you’ve sorted it out, then you can give us a summary.”

  “Agreed. I’ll let you know when I’m ready. However … ” Sheldon, uncharacteristically, hesitated.

  “What’s up, Sheldon?” Nat asked.

  “The person at the other end of the phone. I assume you noticed that one of the Loranna had a call going? It was the individual at the other end who noticed the log-in, who found the video, and who suggested checking the keyboard.”

  “Okay … they’re a smart Lorann?”

  “Too smart. And too quick. And with immediate access to digital information.” Again, Sheldon paused. “It is just possible that the Loranna are using a conscious A.I.”

  I sat in the conference room, fidgeting with my tablet without really seeing the screen. I’d tried going to my bunk, I’d tried watching some YouTube videos, but nothing was working. I simply couldn’t concentrate on anything but the suspense of waiting for whatever Sheldon was going to produce. I looked around at the others and saw the same anxiety on their faces.

  Sheldon broke the silence. “I suppose you’re all wondering why—”

  “Jesus, Sheldon,” Nat yelled. “Don’t you dare!”

  “Hmph. That seemed like a natural. But very well. You are obviously on edge. All comfy? Anyone need to use the facilities?”

  Natalie growled.

  “Right. So, let’s start with the small stuff. There is a report of the incident in the administration offices. They identified Phil Ross—probably the same way you did, Natalie—but apparently dismissed Jack and Patrick as lackeys. An order was put out to an independent contractor to collect Mr. Ross and his two assistants for questioning, but it had not returned any results as of the time of the report.”

  “Lackeys? I’m offended!” Patrick said. “I like to think of myself as more of a minion.”

  Nat rolled her eyes. “But the cop tried to nab us, not Phil. So that can’t be it.” She frowned, staring off into space. “We’re missing something.”

  “You’re missing most of my presentation,” Sheldon replied. “Shall I continue?”

  I chuckled. “Go ahead, Sheldon.”

  “Regarding the Lorannic presence itself, there is nothing that contradicts Alaric’s suspicions or any of our conjectures. The only surprise is how thoroughly they’ve infiltrated the various human bureaucracies, and how expertly they’ve manipulated the various social media platforms. And with what appears to be a surprisingly small number of personnel. This reinforces my suspicion that they are using an A.I. A small group, especially a mere clan, could only do all this with assistance from some kind of advanced expert system.”

  “What exactly does all this consist of?” Nat asked.

  “For instance, almost all of the disinformation sources you are familiar with are either Lorann-controlled or Lorann-influenced.”

  “Like?” Patrick asked.

  “Those Russian troll farms? Loranna. The Asian ones as well. QAnon? Loranna. Several of the far-right so-called news channels are controlled by Loranna. You’ll find the owners of some of those channels in the collaborationist file.”

  “What about far-left?” Nat asked.

  “Technically, the Russian sources would qualify, but I don’t think they are generally viewed that way.”

  “True,” Nat said. “And anyway, far-left and far-right extremists can be hard to tell apart. Once you reach the point where you believe that you have the right to enforce your stance by lies, intimidation, and violence, it really doesn’t matter that much what label you apply.”

  “So all those conspiracy theories about a shadow group running the world are true?” Patrick said.

  “Yes and no. There is no ZOG, no Deep State, no human-based world shadow organization. The Loranna have amplified such narratives with an eye to desensitizing people to similar stories. For instance, the conspiracy theory that the government is being controlled by shape-shifting lizards was deliberately started by the Loranna and attached by association to tinfoil-hat types, so if anything ever did come out about the Loranna, it would simply be dismissed as more of the same.”

  I nodded. “Preemptive strike. Pretty standard disinfo technique. I imagine it’s not the only one.”

  “Of course not. Flying saucer reports, Area 51, Roswell—all created or amplified for the same purpose. Any accidental sighting of an actual Lorannic vessel would again be dismissed as more nutbar narrative.”

  “Fluoridation of water? Knights Templar? Illuminati? Fake moon landings?” Nat said.

  “The Loranna have also taken stories that already existed and amplified them,” Sheldon replied. “They are not responsible for all conspiracy theories but will take advantage of anything that will increase strife, violence, or divisiveness. Pizzagate, for instance, was not a Lorannic construct, but they mention it in one document as an unexpected gift to be amplified to the greatest extent possible.”

  Patrick sighed. “This just seems like too much to believe. How can they pull this off?”

  “Think of it like sitting passively on a swing. A series of small pushes by someone at the right time can turn minimal effort into a large result, resulting in you swinging in a large arc. Many of these conspiracy theories would sink into obscurity or simply coast to a stop on their own, but a new claim or viral campaign at the right time will bring them back to the forefront of public attention. Amplify that with social media botnets and the theory attains new life. Do that several times, and each revival can be bigger than the previous one.”

  I frowned and sat forward. “Okay, so that’s global strife. The Gantt chart indicates that they were behind the pandemic, or at least influenced its existence or spread in some way. Anything else on that in the files?”

  “Anti-vaxxers and Pandemic-pushers, of course. Specifically designed to ensure that any diseases spread as quickly as possible, any response is undercut as much as possible, and vaccines are resisted as long as possible. Ideally, they’d like to make smallpox and polio into global issues again.”

  I sighed. “I’m sure I’ll regret asking, but what about the environment?”

  “Do you truly believe that even the most energetically pro-business leaders would deliberately continue to pollute the planet if they knew that they and their families were going to be caught in the results? Those at the top who practice denialism and destructive policies expect to be in the protected enclaves that Karen mentioned when the collapse occurs. And continuing to make money by charging the common populace through the nose for a seat.”

  Nat put her head in her hand. “Oy.”

  “Oh, and I now have an explanation for that major environmental disaster on the Gantt chart.”

  “Go ahead,” I said.

  “It discusses percentages, although the Loranna use base sixteen for some reason, so that might not be the correct term. But regardless, the item references something dropping from twenty-one percent to nineteen percent.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. You have an idea what that might be?”

  “Oxygen. The percentage of oxygen in the Earth’s atmosphere is currently just a fraction under twenty-one percent, as it has been for millions of years. The minimum percentage at which humans can operate is nineteen-point-five. Below that, trying to do more than stand up puts you in an oxygen deficit. Another half point and mental function starts to suffer, even at minimal activity.”

  “But how?” Patrick asked.

  I took up the narrative. “I’ve read about this. Increased global warming produces higher temps, decreased rainfall, and quicker drying of vegetation, which creates the conditions for more and bigger wildfires, which are triggered by increased incidences of lightning storms brought on by the hotter, dryer air. Those, plus all the burning and clearing of jungles in South America, not only burn massive amounts of existing oxygen, but also produce more CO2, further lowering the oxygen percentage.” I paused and looked around. “Ocean pollution and acidification kill off phytoplankton. Guess where more than half of the oxygen recycling comes from? And warming oceans absorb less CO2—so y’know, more for us.”

  “It’s more than that, Jack,” Sheldon said. “The oxygen in the atmosphere is actually an imbalance created by all the carbon that has been sequestered over geological time as coal and oil, before it had the chance to be burned. Humans have been working diligently to add that fuel back into the equation, further reducing the imbalance.”

  Now Nat covered her face completely with her hands. Her voice came out slightly muffled. “Jesus. We have to break this.”

  “Sure,” I replied. “But how? We can’t fight an entire alien civilization.”

  “You may not have to,” said Sheldon. “Based on what’s in the documents, this actually does look like a small operation, bolstered by an A.I. And Karen and Arley are almost certainly in charge. In fact, this might even be a single, rogue clan engineering the whole thing.”

  “Again, how?”

  “Jack, if they are small and resource-constrained, it would explain their almost exclusive use of Earth-based technology and resources. Your civilization is still primitive enough to value things like gold and platinum, which, other than their industrial uses, are virtually waste products from antimatter generators. A group could pick up a large inventory of so-called precious metals for not very much in Covenant credits. Then, using the Earth-based wealth that this represents, they could buy, bribe, and blackmail their way into positions with high leverage without having to use much in the way of Covenant-level technology or resources, which they probably couldn’t afford anyway.”

  “The FTL detector?”

  “That and a couple of older-model, low-end ships might be literally all they have to their collective name.”

  “Huh.” I stared into space, thinking for a few moments. “So, okay, we don’t have to be concerned about an Independence Day kind of a scenario, but we’re still outmatched. No offense, Sheldon, but you are unarmed.”

  “And I have a best-before date hanging over my head, and cannot call for help.”

  “That too. Plus, they’ve been working on this for, what? Years? Decades?”

  “I would guess decades, Jack. The payoff from acquiring trusteeship of an entire untouched system would justify any amount of investment. They would go from being small fry to a major player in Lorannic society in one leap.”

  “They’d be committing a significant portion of their lives to this, though,” Nat said.

  “Lifespans are much longer with Covenant medical knowledge,” Sheldon replied. “This is not as big a commitment for them as it would be for you.”

  Patrick waved his arms to get everyone’s attention. “This is all very interesting, but we still haven’t gotten to square one on what we’re going to do about it. Any ideas?”

  We exchanged glances, but no one volunteered a response. Even Sheldon withheld comment.

  Chapter Thirty-Two: Kidnappings

  Day 25. Monday morning

  I stood on the porch, steaming travel mug in my hand, waiting for Patrick. Dad had informed me at breakfast that I’d need to make alternate arrangements or drive myself to work in the Buick, as he was working from home today. Patrick, always ready to help, had agreed to pick me up.

  He came around the corner into our driveway as usual, almost but not quite on two wheels, and skidded to a stop right in front of me. I got in the car with as much dignity as I could muster, and tried to ignore the gravel-spewing donut as he came around for launch.

  “If you break a window, Dad’ll make you pay for it,” I said.

  “Well, someone will pay,” he replied. “I don’t think your dad really cares who.”

  I grunted and sipped my coffee as we sped off down the road.

  We were coming around a curve just outside of town when Patrick abruptly hammered on the brakes. In front of us were two vehicles, parked in a V, blocking the road. One of them had more than a passing resemblance to the fake cop car that had chased us the other day, but without the roof lights.

  Patrick skidded to a stop and stuck it in reverse immediately, having correctly analyzed the situation as not good. Then he said, “Aw, shit!” as something thumped into our back end.

  I just had time to turn and see a large four-by-four blocking our escape when someone dressed up in military gear poked an automatic weapon at me and yelled, “Get out, now!” I could hear something similar happening on Patrick’s side of the car.

  Raising my hands first, I slowly reached for the lock button and pulled it up. Immediately the guy grabbed the door and yanked it open, then stepped back with the rifle pointed at my head. “Out.”

  I subvocalized, “Sheldon, help! We’re being arrested or kidnapped or something. No cloaking fields, but they could be employed by the Loranna.”

  Sheldon’s reply came back right away. “Understood. I can track you, unless they put you in a Faraday cage. I’ve alerted Natalie in case she’s a target as well. She’s already on her way to work, but has pulled over. I’ll pick her up immediately.”

  Meanwhile Patrick and I were zip-tied and bundled into the back of a windowless van by taciturn men in military gear. It would have been comical in its level of Hollywood cliché, except for the fact that I was scared almost to the point of wetting myself.

  But we weren’t dead, which had to be a plus. And Sheldon and Nat would be on the case. I wasn’t sure what they could do, but it still made me feel better.

  We soon found ourselves bound to chairs in what looked very much like a warehouse. I’d have chuckled at the predictability of it all, except for the zip-ties on our wrists. And the guns. My bladder continued to signal its concern, which wasn’t helping either.

  “Well, well, well,” said a voice behind me. The speaker sauntered slowly around into view, obviously trying to project confidence and control. Not doing a bad job, really, considering our situation.

  I frowned at him. “You look familiar, but … ”

  “Arley Montrose,” he replied. “I’m sure Karen Ingram has mentioned me.”

  Patrick turned to me. “Ingram. That’s Nat’s boss, I think.” Then to Arley, “We’ve never actually met her.”

  Arley smirked and examined his fingernails. “Uh huh. By all means, play dumb. It adds to the entertainment value. My friend Luthor, here, will be happy to help you with your memory issues.”

  He gestured to his left, and another man stepped into view. It was the fake cop from a few days ago. He glared at us with an expression that made me think we might not be best buds.

  “Luthor would like to thank you, by the way, for giving him a firsthand experience with the effects of a disruptor. I’ve never had the pleasure myself, but I understand it’s quite uncomfortable. Unfortunate that you don’t have it on you; I’d have been happy to give you a small sample. I’m very interested in finding out how you got hold of a disruptor and a couple of cloaking belts. That will be Luthor’s department.”

  Luthor grunted, then smiled at us. “I hope you won’t break too quickly. On the other hand, I don’t think it really matters if you do.”

  I looked back and forth from Luthor to Arley. “Luthor, do you know who and what you’re working for?”

  He grinned back, and it wasn’t reassuring at all.

  “Luthor is being well paid, and has an assured place in the enclaves once our plans come to fruition.” Arley smiled. “You, on the other hand, will be joining Phil Ross once Luthor is done with you.”

  “Phil?” Patrick piped up. “Is he okay?”

  “How fucking stupid are you?” Luthor snarled. “Does anything that’s been said here give you any reason to believe he’s okay? Or that you will be? Do I have to draw you a fucking picture, kid?” He leaned in and gave us that grin again. Still not reassuring. “By the time you actually die, you’ll be missing body parts and begging me to kill you.”