“Some security expert you are,” she sniggered, taking a swig from her drink. She waved her hand at me dismissively. I watched her blankly.
“They killed the dolphins you know,” she added, cruelly recalling the security breach that had been the start of the end with Terra Nova. “Dirty smelly fish, serves them right.”
Still I said nothing.
“So I guess nobody is coming to your party, huh, stinky Jimmy?”
She wasn’t really asking, she was more enjoying herself and smiling knowingly at the new name the kids were now calling me. She was behind me, and had turned away to refill her drink.
I slowly closed the interface to my notes and twisted towards her, pulling down a dense security blanket that enveloped us in a glittering glacial blue. She turned back to me.
“What?” she barked, feeling the blanket close in around us. She threw her head back. “Something to say, little worm?”
I smiled at her, flames glittering in my eyes.
“If you ever talk to me again, Mother, if you ever so much as lay a hand on me or utter one more word to me from that trashy, dirty mouth of yours again,” I said, evenly and slowly, smiling at her. “I will make sure that you regret ever existing, that you live out the remainder of your pathetic life in unearthly agony.”
I smiled to make the point. The fire burned ever brighter in my eyes, and the flames reflected in hers.
Looking at me she was about to say something, but then stopped herself as her vacant mind filled with alarm, feeling my naked malice inhabiting the room. I could taste her fear and my smile widened. She just turned and shuffled away, and I released the security blanket with a flick of a phantom.
“Enjoy the soapstim mum!” I gaily called after her, and returned to my notes.
I’m going to ace this test.
21
Identity: Patricia Killiam
The winds whipped and howled, churning the surface of the ocean into a frothing maelstrom. Gigantic waves surged and crested under the driving storms. Two massive Category 5 hurricanes colliding was a once in a mega-annum event, and Atopia was stuck like a seed about to be crushed between these two grinding wheels.
Suddenly, bright pinpoints of light appeared flashing through the sheets of dark, whipping rain. Then more pinpoints of light flared and began illuminating the heaving seas below. The pinpoints rapidly multiplied, glittering and then flashing into a sheet of superheated plasma that vaporized the rain, sending plumes of vapor rocketing up through the atmosphere.
We were all in Command, watching this on a projection in the middle of the room.
“The slingshots weren’t designed to be used this way,” explained Jimmy while we watched the growing inferno begin to notch a tiny gap between the two colliding monsters.
“Usually they only keep up with sustained operation for a few minutes to take out incoming kinetic threats, but we’ve made some modifications to sink away the heat. We should be able to operate them continuously for at least a few hours, maybe more, but enough to get the job done.”
The view point on the projection swept away and upwards, zooming backwards into space until we could see most of the colliding hurricane systems, with Atopia highlighted on the seas between them.
Jimmy accelerated the simulation speed, and we watched as a narrow gap between the storm systems appeared and Atopia was sucked through it.
“We’ll use the slingshots to blaze a super-high pressure system through the middle of the two colliding storm systems,” Jimmy explained, pointing to the projection.
“Then we’ll drive Atopia at maximum speed straight into it. The relative vacuum we create will literally suck us through behind it as we burn a path forward with the slingshots.”
Jimmy smiled, and the highlighted pinpoint of Atopia popped through to the other side of the storms in the simulation.
A singular, loud clapping punctuated the mesmerized room. It was Kesselring, beaming at Jimmy. Soon, everyone began to join in.
“Jimmy, son, you’ve saved us!” Mr. Kesselring cried out. “Brilliant, simply brilliant!”
Despite my own developing plans to derail the launch timing, relief that we would escape destruction in the storms almost overwhelmed me. I couldn’t help but join in the clapping. It was brilliant, and it looked like it would work.
“It will be a bumpy ride through,” added Jimmy, “but not too bad.”
He shook his head, waving away our applause. It was nothing, no problem, he seemed to be telling us.
Kesselring leaned over to me confidentially and noted, “Patricia, absolutely excellent work in bringing Jimmy onto the Command team.”
“Thanks,” I replied, nodding, but my clapping trailed off as I looked towards Rick. He was joining in as well, but with a completely vacant expression.
“Looks like it will work,” I added to Kesselring, “but I need to get back to something urgently.”
Kesselring shrugged and kept clapping loudly.
I collapsed my main subjective away from Command. Marie had already filled up a glass of scotch for me as I moved to sit down behind my desk and put my feet up.
“Through the storms we go,” said Marie gravely.
I took the drink from her. Instead of sitting, I decided instead to keep standing, and began pacing in tight circles in front of my desk like a caged tiger.
Marie brought up the phutureworlds we had been working on for so many years now, their projections floating in my display spaces, staggered from the most critical to least, filling my eyes with death and destruction as they faded into the distance. She was bringing them up to make a point.
“None of this makes any sense,” I complained, still pacing and taking a sip from my scotch.
My understanding of warfare was academic. Open warfare was, in essence, an information-gathering exercise. From a game theory point of view, attack and defense were designed to resolve the capabilities of opponents until both sides converged on the same accurate assessments.
I’d openly shared almost all information regarding Atopia with the world to avert such a conflict—‘almost’ being the operative word. Perhaps by sharing what I’d been hiding, I could negotiate a peace with Terra Nova, but it was hard to shake the feeling of being a traitor to my own cause.
Even then, it was hard to imagine Terra Nova being so desperate to slow us down as to purposely direct Category 5 hurricanes into the densely populated West Coast. Even a weakened America would be sure to retaliate, with great prejudice, after the damage these storms would cause. Terra Nova would be ensuring its own downfall.
Once upon a time, before Kesselring had approached me for the Atopia project, I had helped build the foundations for Terra Nova as well, and I now remained perhaps the last person on earth who could fix whatever was going on.
“Are you ready?” asked Marie. “This may be our only chance.”
“You’re right,” I replied. With all the attention focused on the emergency at hand, a window of opportunity had opened up for us to talk with the Terra Novans directly and in secret; a chance to perhaps strike a grand bargain. “So everything is set up?”
“They’re waiting,” Marie replied, and then waited, looking at me. Seconds ticked by.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
We exploded upwards out of my office, squeezing through a tight communication channel in the perimeter, and then dispersed, clipping and mixing our sensory packets around the globe to re-materialize in a large, warmly lit room with wooden walls that arched gracefully in vertical panels that intertwined and spiraled together to form the ceiling.