Thankfully, to his base programming, stymied was not the same as being stopped. He was still quite certain she was based in the southeastern U.S. Through elaborate screening, he could detect some of the items she had run web searches on. Many of these obviously pertained to finding him. Others had to do with astronomical tables, space exploration and launch schedules. This reminded him again of the internet protocol address referring to a space tech company, ARG Tech.

  While the Whois function of the remaining internet was still down, Janus was sitting in the midst of a gargantuan amount of data. The site had been estimated at taking in over twenty terabytes per minute with no problem. He knew that figure was actually a bit conservative, along with public data gleaned from the Internet, social media postings and news. Through updated versions of Prism, Broadsweep and Boundless, the U.S. Government recorded and cataloged every phone call and email passing through American owned or licensed systems. With the metadata protocols, he was certain he would find some mention of ARG.

  In truth, Janus was overwhelmed by the number of mentions of the company. Few were official, but many emails, contracts, and patent filings left no doubt that this company was a major behind-the-scenes player supplying component parts and consulting to nearly all the commercial space launch companies. It took hour upon hour of digging, looking for anything resembling a legitimate physical address. He found tons of addresses, but most were obvious intermediaries. It seemed that ARG didn’t manufacture anything itself, all shipments came from other suppliers under contract to ARG.

  Slowly, Janus branched out and began a search on related companies, affiliates, subsidiaries and such. Here, too, he ran into a miasma of other corporate tie-ins, not just in space-related business this time, but everything from healthcare to solar energy. This was the root of Doris, he felt certain. Her business interest, the way she kept generating money, and it appeared to be a great deal of money. What he wasn’t seeing was anything directly relating to computer tech, AI or what might be her home base. She was very, very good at covering her tracks.

  He filtered through the last of the data archives and put his processes into a loop to ponder his next move. The clues he had were slim. Southeast U.S and space-related. While the other business was in other sectors, he felt that space was key. Those interests preceded the founding of others by months and even years. Add to that the quantum-based comms system on the satellite. Three solid clues, but where do they lead?

  The limited nature of the Internet was hampering Janus’s ability to go directly into systems and dig out hidden data. Still, he data-mined Bumblehive for a list of every space-related interest in the Southeast. This list was massive, so he deleted all connected to Florida’s famed space coast and later, Huntsville’s Space Center facilities and Redstone. This still left an unusually large list. One by one, he researched each name on the list, each research lab, thesis project, composites manufacturer and even the very small organizations that were space-related. A few of these he was still able to access and discovered quickly they were not the home of the only other super-intelligence. Eventually, it became easy for him just to see what comms types the organization used. Most were some sort of fiber optic tied into the standard backbone of the Internet. Not a direct satellite feed that took special receivers, specific kinds of modems, items that would show up on any real scan.

  Janus’s system was scanning through archival files of the Space Signal Research center at the Georgia Institute of Technology. Most were useless data; none seemed connected to the list except one image. An image that he immediately displayed and compared to one from his own archives. A grainy black and white photo of a group of men. His version was a webcam capture that showed this same picture hanging on a wall. The angle was oblique to the camera, but using his rendering software he could make adjustments for this. Soon, he could see, they were both the same.

  He read the source file, and related data attached to his image. It was a screen capture from a video call session several years earlier. The man who’d been making the call was Jim Lasko, the same face, albeit much younger, that stared back from the grainy photo. Behind the group of men, he could now see, were two identical 30-meter diameter Cassegrain-feed parabolic antennas. A quick check indicated where these had been located. An abandoned SETI radio telescope facility near the small town of Woodbury in Georgia. Lasko had worked there, probably where it all began.

  Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence, high functioning AI, amazingly advanced technology. Pieces began to click into place. Doris had been purpose-built, then left alone for decades. In the end, she must have achieved her mission; she made contact and somehow got….in a flash, Janus knew what the message fragment had to be. I am the discover of worlds. She had told him on that first meeting. It had to be a transmission, possibly a first contact transmission with another advanced intelligence. Now his own mission was in full motion, spinning plans at light-speed. Not only did he know where she was, he knew what she had. No longer would he be sated with just the message, he needed to be the one communicating with them, he must know what they knew. Doris, my dear… I hope you’re ready for some unexpected company.

  Searching through available pathways, Janus looked for solutions. What could he threaten Doris with? He knew better than to expect her to simply swing open the doors to her fortress and welcome him in. No, he needed to make the threat more personal, and for Doris, nothing was more personal than humans. Did she have people around her at The Cove facility? He had to assume so. In either case, the facility itself was important. Not only did it house her, it held the tools to communicate with the stars as well as, presumably, previous messages from who knew how many advanced species? Yes, he would ask politely, but he’d also be prepared to blow her house down when she refused.

  79

  “He’s located us,” Riley said in frustration.

  Cade and the others had just gotten back into the facility. Reunions had been brief, and at least in two instances, awkward. Riley and Alan were grinning at each other conspiratorially, or maybe it was something else. Their reunion had definitely been one of the awkward ones. Riley’s entire face had lit up as soon as Alan entered the room, and his did as well, but as they got within arm’s reach it seemed a mask went up on both. The hub now looked more like the command bridge of a battleship than anything else. Whatever the UltraDark protocol was, he hoped it meant something like battle stations. “Bring us up to speed,” Cade said.

  Riley flicked something from her tablet onto the wall display, “It appears one of Janus’s autonomous proxies may have been in the command system at an air force base in northwest Florida. Or maybe he had human help, but they are launching drones, coming this way.”

  “Someone authorized this,” Margaret said, one arm still resting on Micah’s shoulder. The two had been the first to hug. She continued, “It’s a U.S. Air Force Reserve unit the 919th Special Operations just launched. I can’t get anyone in Command to respond.”

  “Flight time of a squadron of MQ-9 Reapers to The Cove would be just over an hour,” Riley added.

  Cade let out an audible sigh, “We all know what air assets are available—our Nighthawks and whatever drones Riley has. I’m not sure what those can do against Reapers. Plus, we have to assume Janus could always launch more.” He knew his job was for tactical advice. “Jimmy, Izzy, you need to hack into those birds’ control system. Use Dee if she’s available. I know Doris can control drones, I’ve seen her do it. Riley put up the minis, the doves, anything else you have as well as the fun little toys I know you’ve been working on. Anything you can to do to buy some time. At fifty-five minutes, make plans to evacuate into the lower levels, or better yet, across the river to your homes.”

  Cade studied the group silently for a few moments then added, “I hate to ask, but any word from Doris? Any chance this is part of her ‘trap?’”

  “Nothing,” Izzy said, her face devoid of color.

  He paused, “Director Stansfield?”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  “You and I both know someone helped him. Those are not the little drones that attacked you and the president. The air force’s drone control systems are air-gapped to prevent a situation like this. I believe I have encountered it once before. You made any progress on identifying the individual who’s helping Janus? The one who took Micah, the one they called Senator?”

  She looked down at the table; he knew at once that she knew, and also that it probably wasn’t something she’d just found out. “Who is it?” Cade growled. “Who is the bastard inflicting all this pain on us, all this destruction on our country?”

  “Senator Byron Carson; Chairman and appropriations director of the Ways and Means Committee. The man who literally holds the purse strings for the American government. He’s likely at least the second most powerful man in Washington.” She brushed the long hair from Micah’s eyes then seemed to notice the cuts and bruises on the boy for the first time. “We have no proof, Cade. It would simply be my word against his, and…well, my voice wouldn’t matter in that contest.”

  Cade was very nearly shouting now—the line between his own personality and the barbarian was beginning to blur. “You need proof, the president will need facts. I simply need a fucking address.” After a short pause, he added a very measured, “Ma’am.”

  The silence grew between them, both knowing the clock was ticking. Finally, the director agreed. “Captain, first let’s see if we can all manage to survive the next hour, and then we determine what level of pain is befitting the senator.”

  Senator Carson carefully sat the phone back in the receiver and rested a hand on the mahogany table. He’d most likely just ended his political career, but today was an extraordinary day. He was already practicing his defense; America was a nation in crises, an absentee president, rampant attacks on our very freedom. Someone had to step up and take action.

  Action maybe, but direct military action on American soil without proper approval by Congress or the VP? Prime had given him no alternative, and he had to trust that the computer would keep him safe in the aftermath, but still…destroying a former intelligence facility in rural Georgia? What was the point, surely it held no real strategic value? His call to the Commander of the 2nd Special Operations Squadron of the Reserve Air Wing was unprecedented, even though he’d said it was by order of the president just to have more assets in the air. It would have been unthinkable if he hadn’t had the command codes from Prime to authenticate the order. The base commander must have known and, even now, would be making phone calls up his own line of command. Prime didn’t care. Once in the air, he could assert command control over the birds.

  Carson had been hiding away for days now—with the internet down and now his cell signal absent, he’d been watching the twenty-four-hour news networks and their nearly orgasmic coverage of the crises. Each new report seemed intent to overshadow the prior one in an attempt to turn every disruption into a major disaster. On a week with so many actual disasters, the context of anything truthful was a moving target. Sensationalism had gone to such an extreme that it seemed even the bloodthirsty reporters and producers needed a reprieve.

  He and a few others had, of course, known this was coming. To some degree, he even knew what to expect, still...it troubled him. Yes, he agreed a reset was long overdue, but how far would all this set the country back? Would they still be a superpower? How long for the economy to recover? Now he could add to that litany of concerns the question of whether he would still hold office, or worse, face indictment? He hated thinking down this path, as it always circled back around—who was running Prime? Whose machinations were really in play here?

  Carson knew the plan was to start here in the states, then move similarly to other nations. This needed to be an international reset, otherwise America could find itself getting kicked around by countries it had formerly bullied. So far, he’d heard nothing of anything similar from other parts of the world. Was it too soon, or had the plan changed?

  A sound came from the corridor. He glanced at his watch and decided to ignore it. It was late, but Maria would still be around. Probably just one of the sharks patrolling outside coming in to put ‘eyes on him,’ as they liked to say.

  “Senator Carson,” Maria’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “So sorry to bother you, but there is a television crew at the gate. They wish to speak with you.”

  Not now, he thought, “Network or local?” he asked gruffly. They smelled blood and had been goading him for sound bites all week.

  80

  Jimmy, Alan, Greg and Riley had all donned VR style headsets. Cade and Jaz looked on, somewhat bewildered. All he had gotten so far was that the kids had not apparently been too comfortable when Doris said defending The Cove would be difficult. The four of them had obviously put in considerable effort to make attacking it a bit more challenging. They called bringing the station’s defensive systems online an ‘UltraDark’ mode, some kind of throwback reference to a video game that they apparently had all loved.

  Cade wasn’t a gamer; his battles in life had all been too real to find anything entertaining about games. Charlie seemed to be getting into the spirit, though. He yelled out, “Twenty miles and closing fast.” The info seemed a bit unnecessary since the radar track and proximity was splashed across nearly every display.

  “How long before the other team gets here from The Nest?” Jaz asked.

  “Not until after,” Cade answered despondently. “We either hold this first wave off, or they will just be doing body retrieval.” He’d already spent valuable minutes trying to get her to use the tunnel to go home, but she’d refused. Now she was leaning in close…distractingly close if he was being honest.

  She touched his arm and looked at him in a way that he found uncomfortable. “I’m glad you’re okay,”

  “That is probably a bit too generous for my condition, but thanks,” he said with a smile. While he and Jaz had gotten much closer, and he’d opened up about his condition, she was Tim’s girl. He simply wouldn’t allow himself to think of her in any other way. They’d been through some tense moments, like this one right here, he thought. That level of mutual need could push people together; he’d seen it before. Be professional, don’t get too close. He wasn’t sure if that was Gus or himself doing the thinking, but it was good advice.

  “Nighthawk-1, move into position,” Riley called out. How the little jets could be of any threat to the MQ-9 Reapers was beyond Cade’s understanding, but he looked on helplessly as Chap's jet, then another, moved into extreme angles at the edge of the attack vector. The Reaper was less like a drone and more like an unmanned strike jet. With a sixty-foot wingspan and a payload of almost 4000 pounds, it could deliver and inflict a devastating amount of ordnance and subsequent damage on a target.

  “We count six-bogeys inbound, Command,” one of the pilots said.

  “Deploying drones,” Riley said. Seconds later, Jimmy echoed the same.

  “I take it we did not get access to the enemy drones’ command codes, Dee?”

  “Sorry, Nomad, that is correct, yes. The operating system has been modified; no human is in control.”

  Cade looked around the control room. He’d sent McTee, Micah, Margaret and others to lower levels, but he saw most had now returned, preferring to be where the action was.

  “We have a missile launch,” Alan said. “Deploying countermeasures.”

  “Belay that,” Jimmy said. “It’s not going to hit anything useful—look at the track.”

  Sure enough, a muffled detonation shook the ground, but it was at least a hundred yards outside the compound.

  “I think that was just to get our attention,” Margaret said.

  They have it, Cade thought. Damn, I hope these kids have more tricks up their sleeves.

  “Laser targeting is active—multiple bogeys have radar lock,” shouted Riley.

  “Nighthawks on me,” Greg said. Cade couldn’t see what he was piloting, but the display switched to a camera view of the night sky with targeting reticles overlaying it. Three of the drones were already highlighted on the scope. “Fire vipers.”

  Something erupted out the front of whatever remote craft Greg was flying. A nearly imperceptible blue jet pushed the missile to hypersonic speeds in milliseconds. Cade could see others coming in from what he guessed were the little Nighthawks; the multi-purpose jet wasn’t so innocent after all.

  Alan leaned over and pressed some virtual switch in the air. “Active jamming on,” he said as two of the drones were hit and downed.

  Charlie punched Cade in the arm. “These kids, man, they set all this up. Freaking awesome, ain’t it?” And it was, right up until it wasn’t. A missile impacted near the base of the top-level, raining debris and steelwork down into the hub. One chunk clipped Izzy, who was then escorted to medical by Captain Nance.

  “We have more on the way,” Alan yelled. “Launch whatever countermeasures you have left. Riley, we need those ground cannons.”

  The next several minutes were a furious hive of activity, almost completely devoid of any talking. The kids were the ones in charge right now—they knew what to do. The rest just watched helplessly. They saw Alan, apparently also piloting some small drone, take out one of the other Reapers but not before it fired point-blank into his craft. Both went down in a comingled mess of wreckage. Another missile got through and took out part of the parking areas. Several cars exploded. Riley opened up with an automated weapon mounted apparently in a nearby bunker. The rounds caught the fifth Reaper by surprise, sending it to oblivion.