As Burt strode deeper into the underground concrete tunnel, the door he’d passed through automatically closed behind him. The sound of metal sliding against metal echoed ominously through the tunnel as the lock engaged, sealing him in.
Meeting him at the end of the tunnel were two men dressed in black suits. They looked almost identical to the two who’d brought him here in a blacked-out cargo van. The only thing he’d been told was that he was being brought to an old nuclear bomb shelter somewhere underneath Manhattan. At first, he’d thought they were part of the president’s Secret Service, but now Burt suspected these guys were from some other branch of government that nobody talked about. Most of the Secret Service agents he’d met were reasonably friendly, but these folks were ... different. More serious than anything else.
One of the men approached with a long scanning wand, the same kind used at the airports. “Arms up and to your sides, Doctor Radcliffe.”
Standing near the end of the concrete tunnel, Burt stared ahead at the brushed steel of a metal wall while the agent slowly swept the scanner down the side of his chest.
Not seeing any obvious door, button, or other means to get past the wall, Burt asked, “Are we meeting people in this tunnel?”
The agent continued his agonizingly slow sweep of every inch of his body, without a word in response.
Burt had been told that he’d be briefing some people in a confidential setting, but he’d never realized to what extent the word “confidential” could actually be stretched.
The stone-faced agent who’d been scanning him for what seemed an excessive amount of time finally nodded to his partner. “He’s clear.”
The agent next to the wall pressed his hand against the metal barrier. A green glow leaked from under his splayed hand, followed by a loud metallic click.
He pulled his hand away as the sound of metal smoothly sliding against metal whispered from the wall. The agent turned to Burt, and in a firm voice, said, “This location doesn’t exist, nor did this meeting ever happen. The people you are about to brief weren’t here, and even if you know who they are, you don’t. Is this understood?”
“Sure, no problem.” Burt smiled, thinking that this was all a bit extreme. After all, whoever it was past these doors, they couldn’t be a bigger deal than the President of the United States.
Expecting a metal door to yawn open, Burt’s eyes widened in surprise as he watched the foot-thick wall slide into the ground, only stopping its descent when its top was level with the floor.
The agents motioned for him to enter, and as he stepped over the “wall” an unseen motor reengaged, lifting the barrier once again and sealing him in the entrance to a large, round chamber.
The fifty-foot-wide domed chamber had been carved from the surrounding bedrock. Dominating the room was a large U-shaped black table, along which were seated approximately thirty men and women, all in business attire.
At the far end of the chamber, in the middle of the U, was a distinguished, elderly man, who stood as Burt entered.
“Welcome, Doctor Radcliffe.” The man’s British accent echoed loudly in the amphitheater-like chamber.
He extended his hand toward the lone chair that sat in the open space at the center of the room. “Please, have a seat. I’m sure you’re wondering what exactly you are doing here, and why the secrecy. We too have many questions about what your government likes to call ‘Indigo.’”
How the man said “your government” made Burt’s heart skip a beat. He scanned the faces and clothing of the people arrayed along the table. They looked foreign, all of them. Their dress, their style of hair, most certainly the speaker’s accent. What was going on?
How do they know about Indigo?
Burt had been told that he would be briefing a group of politicians. He wondered if he’d made a huge mistake. Who are these people?
“Doctor Radcliffe, let me assuage any worries you might have, said the British-accented man. “Your President knows you’re here, and she’d be here herself were it not for the briefings she’s already had the privilege of having.”
Burt wasn’t sure what to believe, but he slowly walked to the leather-upholstered swivel chair at the center of the room and asked, “What is this place? Is that why I’m here? To give you folks a briefing? Before I do that, I’d really like to know....” Burt panned his arm across the chamber. “What is all of this, and who are all of—” Suddenly, he stopped mid-sentence and recognized the man with the British accent. “Um, sir ... aren’t you the Prime Minister of Britain?”
A smile slowly crept across the older gentleman’s face, and Burt knew he was right.
“Doctor Radcliffe, this gathering doesn’t have a name per se. We all meet at times of importance, and do so in a somewhat clandestine manner, both for political and security reasons.”
Just as Burt opened his mouth to ask a question, the Prime Minister held up his hand. “Please, Doctor Radcliffe, before we start, let me tell you a brief tale which I hope will help you understand what we’re looking for from you. Clearly, anything said within this chamber remains confidential.”
With the man’s smooth voice and accent, Burt experienced a surreal moment, almost as if he were playing a part in an old-style James Bond movie.
“Doctor Radcliffe, there was a time not so long ago that the world’s nations found themselves at the brink of a disaster. Many of the world’s citizens have religious beliefs, and that’s all well and good. Hell, even though I’m loathe to admit it, I too believe in a higher power. Some might argue that religion has caused more harm than good, but that’s a debate for another time.”
Putting his hands on the table before him, the Prime Minster leaned forward and spoke with an ominous tone. “Even though the public never knew, there was a time not so long ago that three nuclear-weapon states lost control of their arsenals to in-country religious zealots. In all three incidents, these maniacs had a common link. They were all spurred by a desire to bring about the end of the world, and in so doing, they believed that God’s hand would intervene. For some, this might mean the coming of the Messiah, or the second coming or whatever your religious faith would have you believe about the end times. I’d wager that you’re most familiar with what Christian chronicles in Revelations. Nonetheless, the in-country security forces barely managed to quell the pending disasters and regain control of their respective domestic situations.”
Burt’s first thought was about what the president had shown him: the Brotherhood of the Righteous. Were these the same lunatics the Prime Minister was referring to? His mind raced as he tried to recall anything in the news about religious riots, and suddenly, something clicked. “Wait a minute, I remember there were a bunch of religious leaders’ funerals that happened at the same time, like ten years ago. There was a huge thing made of it, but I thought they’d all died of heart attacks or—”
“Yes,” the old man cut him off. “We need not talk more of the who and the what. Suffice it to say that the problem was taken care of, and taken care of quietly—without suspicion. It was only after that incident that the heads of the nuclear-capable states realized that we all had the same latent risk of security breaches. Cloaked under the shawl of a religious following, these suicide cults are still alive and well throughout the world, and with millions of followers or sympathizers. We, as a civilized set of nations, could not abide their ever gaining control or inciting global unrest.”
Burt recalled the image of the albino monk, and shuddered at the thought that there might be millions of those zealots throughout the world.
The Prime Minister motioned toward his peers arrayed on either side of him. “In each of our respective countries, we cull those who would be the most problematic amongst the cult members. We ensure that procedural votes do not give them sway in our respective governments. We also limit their access and success in business.”
Pausing for a moment, a wry grin bloomed on his face. “I suppose we as a group aren’t very much unlike the boogiemen of many a cheap dime-store novel, those who control things in less-than-honorable manners. But we do it to keep the rest of humanity safe.”
Burt nodded ever-so-slowly.
Oddly enough, none of this bothered him. He wasn’t particularly religious, and he certainly didn’t want to accelerate that hand of God in any way, shape, or form. Burt may not have been perfectly content with some of the turns his life had taken, but he certainly wanted to continue living. “Prime Minister, if you know about Indigo, then why did you all need me here? Why tell me these things?”
“Actually, the answer is quite simple.” The Prime Minster leaned back in his chair and motioned toward the others in the room. “We all wanted you to understand why this group exists. You needed to know that we’re fighting against a significant portion of our society, a portion that’s ready to believe almost anything, given certain circumstances. With the possibility of what Indigo presents, it seems clear to us all that if the truth were known by the public, we’d have a global disaster. Hell, even if our interstellar friend decided to forego visiting us, and this was all some kind of mistake, the public knowing of this threat would be a calamity of epic proportions. These suicide cults need only an excuse, or what they might deem as a sign from above, to wreak havoc on the civilization that we hold so dear.” The Prime Minster glanced at the others, and with a grim tone, explained, “There are activities already underway in each of our nations to stifle the reactions of those with whom we are concerned. From you, we want to fully understand the nature of what we’re facing and the preparations that will need to be done. This group might also have some suggestions on what to expose to the public and what not to expose, but first, let’s hear what you have to say.”
Sitting comfortably on the plush leather chair, Burt slowly wheeled it closer to where he’d walked into the room, so that he could see everyone at once.
With a brief cough to clear his throat, he projected across the room, “As you all I’m sure realize, a black hole is one of the most dangerous...”
###
Burt felt supremely relieved that he’d spent nearly two days straight talking with Dave about all of the science regarding his solution, and considering the issues that might arise. After the nearly two hours of rather detailed discussions with the thirty-four heads of various countries, he felt drained. Almost as if he’d been on trial, suffering through a prosecutor’s interrogation. However, instead of one prosecutor, he’d needed to face down thirty-four of them, all asking pointed questions and probing every conceivable angle. In some cases, the dynamic debate resulted in heated arguments amongst the world leaders, and it was only after the British Prime Minister produced a gavel from somewhere and began banging loudly on the table that he managed to bring the room back to order.
The only definitive conclusions that Burt could discern were that more discussions needed to occur, and each of the countries would be sending a representative from their scientific community with instructions from their government.
As the group stood and began to migrate toward a table heavily laden with food and refreshments, the Prime Minister approached and patted Burt on the shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Doctor Radcliffe, I apologize for some of what you just experienced. I know it must have been a bit trying, dealing with us politicians, many of whom who can barely spell physics, much less debate it in a cogent manner. Most of us are fairly level-headed, but we have our moments.”
Burt shook his head and smiled. “No worries. I’ve seen worse. There’s an old saying in academia, ‘Academic politics are so vicious because the stakes are so small.’ That being said, I’ve waged these kind of verbal battles before.”
The elderly gentleman nodded, but sighed heavily with an expression of regret. “Yes, I suppose you’re likely right about that. Just don’t be surprised if things for all of us get quite ugly before everyone falls into lockstep. People aren’t going to want to hear what needs to be said, but I’m sure you’ll do fine.” The Prime Minister pasted on a smile that almost certainly was intended to be reassuring, but nonetheless left Burt feeling even more worried. “You handled yourself very well, and I’ll be telling Margaret exactly that.” Glancing at a table with a large, silver tea set, the Prime Minister patted Burt’s shoulder once more. “I don’t know about you, but I need a spot of tea to soothe my frayed nerves.”
Just as the gray-haired man turned, Burt felt a tap on the middle of his back, and he turned to see a short Asian man not more than a foot away, staring intensely at him.
“Oh, hello.” Burt immediately recognized the middle-aged and slightly overweight man as the one who’d sat at one of the ends of the U-shaped table. He’d never said a word, even when the others were yelling at each other. “Did you have a question?”
“Radcliffe, arrange a time for me to meet privately with Dave Holmes. Dave and I are old friends.”
Blinking, Burt was taken aback. “Uh, I don’t really have the authority to arrange meetings with Doctor Holmes for anyone. I’m afraid you’ll need to reach out to the president or maybe you ... I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but who are you?”
The man tilted his head at an angle and smiled. “Talking to your President may be difficult. There are many in my administration who aren’t particularly friendly with those in hers. When you talk to Dave, tell him Frank wants to talk about the power converter.”
Burt took a step back, at first not sure if the man he was talking to was sane. But suddenly, the name Frank popped into his mind. “Frank? As in, North Korea Frank—the same one who went to school with Doctor Holmes?”
With an unexpected burst of enthusiasm, Frank clapped his hands together gleefully. “So he talked about me? He needs to know that I’ve made progress on the project he and I had talked about.”
Suddenly, he grabbed Burt by his upper arm and pressed his face closer. “I need to talk to him.”
Shrugging his arms out of the man’s grip, Burt stepped back, and Frank’s eyes widened. Being the supreme leader of his country, he probably wasn’t used to dealing with people who weren’t cowed into total subservience when in his presence.
Frank leaned forward and whispered in a hoarse, somewhat desperate tone. “There’s more, but I can’t really talk about it here.” The short man glanced nervously over his shoulder. “And the information I have ... I just can’t be sure. It seems crazy, half-baked, but that’s why I need to talk with him. Dave had always been good at unscrambling things, finding the worth in the half-baked and ill-formed ideas that sometimes inspired me.” A sad expression bloomed onto his chubby face, as if remembering a time from long ago. “Even though he’s American, he’s really…” Frank paused, seeming to weigh his next words carefully. “He’s really smarter than any of us, no offense intended.”
“Trust me, I understand.” Burt nodded. “Dave is beyond brilliant. I’ll talk with the president on your behalf and see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything more.”
The pariah state’s Supreme Leader sighed. “It’s important. You can tell your Margaret Hager that I’m doing what I can to keep my generals in line, but only so much can be done in my situation.”
And with that parting statement, North Korea’s Supreme Leader turned away and walked toward the table laden with an international collection of delicacies.
###
Word of the threat had very carefully been spread amongst the other leaders of the world, yet through some small miracle, word hadn’t yet leaked to the general public. Burt had always heard that there was no such thing as a secret in government; people couldn’t help but talk about their “secrets.” Clearly, that wasn’t always the case.
He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the musty smell that permeated the room. He stood in front of a podium as the last of the nearly one-hundred-and-fifty scientists gathered in a secure auditorium located in Fort Meade. He wasn’t sure if his upset stomach was from the greasy breakfast he’d eaten at the hotel, or because he was going to be disclosing to the world’s top scientists, his peers, the details of how they would deal with the impending threat.
Burt had steeped himself in academia and the scientific community for nearly three decades, and he knew how things worked. Peer review was required for any serious affirmation of new concepts, and he knew that the idea of telling over one hundred of these people that they’d have to forego the normal procedures for something literally Earth-shaking was lunacy.
A lunacy that was necessary.
As the last of the scientists settled into their seats, Burt leaned forward and tapped on the microphone, panning his gaze across the room.
“Hello everyone,” he began, “I’m thrilled to see some old friends in the room, and I’m looking forward to meeting the rest of you for the first time. I just wish the situation wasn’t as serious as it is today.”
Trying to rid himself of his nerves, Burt took another deep breath and shrugged his stiff shoulders.
“You’ve all been briefed on what we’re facing. You’ve also been sworn to secrecy, and what is said in this room, stays here. This meeting has two purposes. One, it is for me to explain how we might be dealing with what is already described in the reports that you’ve received. But it’s also a time for us to discuss the ramifications of what is happening, and create a plan on what else might need to be done. Each of your respective countries needs your guidance, and I’m charged with helping coordinate this discussion and summarize the conclusions.”
Having given many speeches over his lifetime, Burt’s nerves had melted away, only to be replaced with a steely determination to do what needed to be done. When word of Indigo eventually went public, he knew that it was these people who’d have to explain it to their constituents, and if they couldn’t, the result would almost certainly be panic. Too much was at stake for him to screw this up.
“First of all, what I’m about to describe has been designed by Doctor David Holmes, who, if you don’t know him in person, you certainly know who he is. I wish he could be here, but he’s out there.” Burt motioned toward the outside world. “He’s trying to address the concerns we’re about to talk about, so I’m here in his place.”
One of the scientists in the front row, an older gentleman with a shock of white hair, stood and asked in a loud voice, “Doctor Radcliffe, I object to the idea that we’d stake the fate of the world on new beliefs or understandings. That’s not how things work, and you know it.”
Having expected pushback from the audience, Burt shook his head. “Your objection is noted, but I’d assert that you’re forgetting our history. Advances in science often come in spurts. Things that are long understood to be fact are suddenly blown asunder by contradicting empirical data.
“Until the late nineteenth century, the scientific world believed in a substance called luminiferous aether, a substance that was purported to be the medium by which light traveled. And then one day in 1905, a man named Albert Einstein tossed aside all that the scientific community believed with his theory of Special Relativity.
“It was only fifty years ago that most thought that the world’s oceans came from the Earth’s early bombardment by comets and other water-carrying objects. However, only with the passage of Halley’s Comet and the spectroscopic analysis of other comets did we determine that those icy objects couldn’t have been the basis of our oceans. They had ratios of deuterium-based heavy water to normal water that were twice that of our own oceans.
“Instead, we learned that a large portion of our Earth’s own upper mantle is composed of rock known as ringwoodite, that if brought to the surface, could easily bring forth many times the amount of water that we currently see in our oceans. Oh, and one fact to note ... the water trapped within our mantle has exactly the same composition as the water in our oceans. We now know that through many millions of years of volcanic activity, the Earth populated its own oceans, effectively setting aside our old understanding.
“What modern scientists believed for centuries was overturned quickly due to these findings.
“What Doctor Holmes has demonstrated as possible is, in my estimation, no less than what Albert Einstein did with the theory of Special and then General Relativity. Doctor Holmes has turned what we thought we knew on its head.”
Knowing that what he was about to say would be controversial, Burt took a deep breath and tried to keep a grimace off his face.
“What I’m about to describe is ridiculously complicated. Some of the things we’re going to talk about are going to challenge everything we hold to be true. Trust me, I know how we all are. I’m one of you, and in that, I mean that we’re all, by nature of our academic backgrounds, the type who ask lots of questions, debate, and believe in peer review of all things. I’m sorry, we don’t have that luxury anymore. Not for this.”
A murmur rose from the audience, and a woman stood in the back. “That’s crazy,” she yelled. “Nothing is so complicated that it can’t be debated. If it’s so convoluted to explain, then I’d assert it’s probably not something we can depend on.”
The murmur grew louder as some scientists shifted restlessly and others grumbled in Burt’s direction.
Burt pursed his lips at the bold challenge and leaned closer to the microphone.
“I never said I couldn’t explain it. I said that for some of you, it would be a challenge to accept.” With a surge of indignation, he changed tone, trying to head off what he feared might become a pissing contest. “You can question what I say all you like, but if you believe that science and the way we communicate concepts hasn’t been convoluted, you’re delusional. Even the simplest thing can be complicated beyond reason. And I’ll give you an example.
“I know that some of you may not specialize in physics, but I’m fairly certain you all know that power is not the same as energy, right?
“Power, being a measure of the amount of work being done at any given time, is expressed in watts. However, energy is the amount of work done over a span of time. That’s measured in watt-hours.
“So you might say that, ‘One watt of power, maintained for an hour, is a watt-hour of energy.’ Simple, right?”
Many faces in the audience stared blankly, while others showed signs of annoyance.
“You’re all silently staring at me thinking, ‘This is remedial crap, why is he doing this?’
“I’m doing it to show you how anything simple can be screwed up when too many people debate what is already working instead of just moving on.
“For instance, a battery’s energy isn’t expressed in watt-hours; it’s amp-hours, which of course means you need to multiply it by its voltage to get watt-hours. Simple yet again, I suppose.
“You might think you know what a BTU is, that’s of course the British Thermal Unit, which is equivalent to 1,055 joules. Why 1,055 joules? Oh, because that’s how much power was needed to raise the temperature of a pound of water by one degree Fahrenheit.
“Obviously, to know that, we’re deep into the memorization area, right?
“What if I told you that the British used to have something called a Board of Trade Unit, also known as a BTU? It was a kilowatt-hour, which I might note isn’t the same as the British Thermal Unit version of BTU. This form of BTU didn’t equal 1055 joules, but instead was 3.6 mega-joules. Confused yet?
“But wait, there’s more.
“In India, a kilowatt-hour is simply referred to as a Unit. So a million units is actually a gigawatt-hour, a billion units is a terawatt-hour, and so on.
“Clearly, many of us have found ways to muck up the way we talk to each other or express common concepts, so let’s not pretend that we’re innocent of such things.
“You’ve all been charged not with debating the nature of what we’re facing, or the solution that is currently being enacted, but with the ramifications of the solution and how each of your countries must prepare. Each of your respective countries need your guidance. If you can’t explain what I’m about to talk about, each and every one of you will be responsible for the inevitable chaos in your respective countries.”
Burt panned his pointer finger across the crowd.
“Let me assure you, that if you aren’t able to convince your people that all will be fine, there will be chaos. It will be you who they’ll look at, either as the savior of your nation or the one to blame for its internal strife.
“To help all of you, I’ll spend the next couple of hours talking about what Doctor Holmes has discovered. I’ll go into the physics involved, and I’m going to ask for no debate on the possibility of it working or not. I’ll have you know I watched a prototype in action. It works. End of debate.”
Before anyone could object, Burt leaned even closer to the microphone, emphasizing his next statement with a somewhat ominous tone.
“If you have a clarifying question, ask it—but I won’t accept anyone slowing this process down for the rest. We don’t have the time. All of our lives are at stake. If you’re unable to control yourself, you’ll be ejected with a prepared summary of the proceedings sent to the head of your government. Am I understood?”
A hand was raised in the middle of the third row, and Burt motioned for the man who raised it to speak.
“Excuse me, Doctor Radcliffe,” he said. “I’m not a physicist like many of you, so I won’t pretend to grasp what you’re about to discuss. However, I’m a climatologist and an oceanographic research fellow. After the mechanics of the solution are discussed, will we then cover the preparations? That’s hopefully where I might have thoughts on some things that could be worthy of discussion.”
Letting out a breath that Burt didn’t realize he was holding, he felt the tension leak out of him. He gave the man a smile. “Yes, of course. We’ll most certainly get into the practical matters afterwards. I’ll be here as long as it takes for us to discuss things. I simply want all of you to at least have a glimmer of understanding of the solution whenever things do go public.”
Burt glanced at the clock on the wall. A warm feeling of accomplishment flushed through him. He’d secretly anticipated a much longer time spent arguing.
“I started this talk by saying that science can occasionally be turned on its head. Well, that’s exactly what Doctor Holmes has done.
“Think about this, the concept of negative mass, gravity isolation, and movement beyond the speed of light. Folks, what had been the world of science fiction has shifted hard into scientific fact. Just like the concept of aether, or the origins of our oceans, so much of what we’d assumed has been flipped on its head. It's an exciting, yet terrifying time to study humanity’s place in the universe.”
Burt attached a portable microphone to his shirt and rolled up his sleeves. Turning to the front of the auditorium, he grabbed a dry-erase marker from a tray running along the bottom of a tremendous whiteboard and began drawing what would end up being the image of the Earth, along with a network of space elevators surrounding its equator.
“Let’s begin with the details of what we’ll experience when the Warp Ring is activated, and then move on to the theories that led to the solution.”
###
Sitting on the sofa in the Oval Office, Margaret studied the security report as a device in the ceiling projected the holographic image of the Secretary of Defense’s face hovering in the middle of the room. His gravelly voice reverberated through hidden speakers.
“Madam President, we believe that the terrorist cells have almost no communication with each other and are receiving signals from a central authority.”
“I got that from this report, Walter. What’s this about very-low-frequency signals and a terrorist communications network?”
Margaret watched the hologram of Walter as he flipped a page on his copy of the report and cleared his throat. “Our lab folks out of USACIL managed to extract an implant from one of the dead terrorists. They’ve determined that the implant was a fairly sophisticated form of wide-frequency receiver.” The Secretary of Defense picked up another set of papers and began reading from them. “The receiver is no larger than a grain of rice, yet was coded to use the body’s electrical pathways as both an antenna and a power source. The receiver is capable of detecting spread spectrum signals, and by virtue of being embedded against the subject’s tympanic membrane, it’s able to translate the signals into auditory stimulus. The receiver is designed to support both broadcast as well as targeted signaling.”
Margaret stared at the ghost-like image of the former General, hovering four feet off the ground, and pressed her lips together in thought. “So in other words, we’ve got terrorists with implants sitting on their ear drums that can receive what is in effect global terrorist chatter as well as messages directed to them?”
“Yes, ma’am, that seems to be the case. Pretty advanced technology, if you ask me.”
“You’re not suggesting a nation-state is backing these assholes, are you?”
“No, ma’am, I have no evidence of that as of yet. But the CIA might have different thoughts on the matter.”
“Okay, what else have you got on the terrorists?”
“In all of the captured suspects, we’ve found a common identifying mark somewhere on their body. A tattoo of an hourglass. We don’t yet know its significance, and in interrogations, none of these people were willing to say anything. We’re running the image through our systems to see if there’s anything we can make out of it.”
Flipping to the last page of the report, Margaret came upon a computer sketch of a suspect that she immediately recognized. “Okay, what about our albino friend? What’s the story?”
“At the home of one of the terrorist suspects, one of our teams managed to extract a DNA sample from a handwritten letter that had originated in a small town in southern Romania. With our latest DNA analysis computers, we were able to reconstruct the facial structure. Obviously age, hairstyle, and any acquired scars aren’t represented, but the image was immediately earmarked for further analysis by our intelligence folks.”
Margaret leaned forward on the sofa and studied the image. The hologram showed a rotating headshot of the suspect, his white skin, fine eyebrows, and white hair with a slightly receding hairline. It sent a shiver down her spine. “He certainly looks like our guy from those intercepted video transmissions. Do we know anything about him? Is he the ringleader or just a mouthpiece? Can the DNA computers give us fingerprints?”
“I asked the same questions. We don’t yet know who this guy is, or what his role is with the terrorists. As to the fingerprints, I was told that DNA won’t dictate a person’s exact fingerprints, so that’s a dead end.”
Setting the report on the sofa cushion, Margaret rubbed her eyes and gazed at the hovering image of her Secretary of Defense.
“Anything else?”
“No, ma’am. All five branches of the military have teams supporting local police forces in each and every one of our territories. We’re managing to keep a cap on these terrorists domestically, and per your orders, we have special operations troops seeking the source. For now, that’s about it on that front.”
“Walter, just be aware, we’re going to have to continue drawing on the military to maintain order, especially on the coasts.”
“Understood.”
“Thanks, Walter. Dismissed.”
The video feed cut off and Margaret sank back onto the sofa, her mind racing.
Raking her hands through her blonde hair, the president turned toward her Chief of Staff who’d been sitting in the corner of the room, listening.
“Doug, get the DOJ on the line. I need to figure a way to legally start jamming all aerial communications that these terrorists might be using. That means radio stations and such might end up getting cut off, and I don’t need the ACLU or Congress up my ass over this. We’re going to have to start using drastic measures to take control over this situation.”
The old man pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose and nodded. “I’ll make some calls and try to set something up for later this afternoon.”
Margaret rubbed her fingers on her temples, fighting the nausea that threatened to make her lose her breakfast.
With worry gnawing at her gut, she murmured to herself, “Is what I’m about to do going to save us or destroy us?”