Maybe… he shouldn’t even try to do that, but he could…
Cal got up and shut his door, although the floor was empty by now. Even Aaron’s office light had gone off, thank God.
No one would ever mistake him for a hacker, but he knew how to access and read server logs. Of course, if the files Catherine accessed were out of Cal’s security clearance, it still might not help him, but it was worth a shot.
Catherine had showed up at his house at two that morning, so all he needed to do was see what files were accessed from Aaron’s computer shortly before then—assuming she’d come right over after being in Aaron’s office. He looked through the logs until he found the right time frame. The files she’d been looking at should be… there.
Cal stared. That couldn’t be right.
He double-checked the date, the time, the workstation.
They were all correct.
Fuck.
Cal didn’t need to open the files to know what they were. He knew exactly what they contained. He’d written most of them. And only half a dozen people at NASA even knew they existed. Half a dozen people, and now maybe Catherine Wells.
Before he could think, he grabbed his cell phone and called Catherine. Shit, how was it ten o’clock already? Voice mail.
“Hey, it’s Cal. Call me when you get this. It’s urgent. I figured a few things out. We have to talk.”
While he waited, waffling on his next step, he pulled up one of the docs she’d accessed that night. He knew the text by heart, but looked at the memo anyway.
…Longbow Protocol is a last-ditch contingency. When the three-step process is triggered, a signal is sent to the Sagittarius mission craft, at which point the computer will begin to shut down all life-support systems. The crew will receive no warning. An hour after life-support shutdown, the interior modules will be flooded with gamma rays to ensure that no foreign antigen or life-form survives and reaches Earth. This radiation will also neutralize any crew that might have survived the first line of defense.
Catherine—or more accurately, whatever was controlling Catherine—now knew all about Longbow. Including… wait. He paused to double-check the server logs again… Shit. Yes. Including the codes and locations needed to trigger the first sequence.
Fidgeting, he dialed Catherine’s number again. Voice mail.
His heart raced in his chest as he pictured her, blank-eyed and determined, coming into NASA that very night to set the protocol in motion.
She’s known about it for weeks; there’s nothing that says tonight would be the night.
But the skin on the back of his neck crawled with panic. It was fine. It would be fine, he told himself. He’d just go to her place. Wait, no. She’d moved.
Even if he found her, what would he do, exactly? Tell her what he’d found? Kill her? No, of course not; that was a ridiculous thought. But they could talk it through. Aaron was the only one with the fail-safe codes to disconnect Longbow; they might have to tell him everything.
Then a worse thought occurred to him: What if she’s not there? What if she’s on her way here right now? Or already here?
He grabbed his coat and ran.
28
TURN SIGNAL. SMILE at the guard.
They were all automatic responses from deep within. They repressed the disgust they felt on coming in contact with the sickening, soft flesh of these creatures. The dull human wearing a weapon and a uniform waved them through the gate, seeing only Catherine Wells.
Time was running short. They knew what they had to do, but they could feel the wall slowly wearing away in Catherine’s mind. She was becoming aware of the forces in her mind that were compelling her. They found that troubling, that one single mind could resist so strongly against their larger, unified whole, many minds working as one.
The time to act was now, before the opportunity was lost. The initial plan, to keep the ship from launching, had failed. Since they could not stop the ship’s departure, they’d have to destroy it. The imperative planted deep within Catherine’s mind was simple: no ship could make it through the wormhole.
They moved through the building, uncomfortable in their borrowed nervous system. Everything they took in through Catherine’s senses displeased them. The building’s angles were too sharp, too squared-off. Too mechanical. There was nothing organic, nothing beautiful. No natural stone or soft colors. Perhaps humanity surrounded itself with hardness to give them the armor their soft, flimsy bodies lacked.
It was simple to enter the locked offices in this compound. Child’s play. The first office they’d entered before, the one belonging to the man Aaron. They accessed his workstation with a few keystrokes, not bothering to sit down. What they had to do wouldn’t take long.
(Stop)
The dim whisper of a voice in their mind, an annoyance brushed away as easily as a buzzing fly.
The codes they had retrieved from this very office were clear and sharp in their memory, and they typed in the first of the three.
SEQUENCE INITIATED, the screen said.
(stop)
Ten minutes now to enter the remaining two codes, and their mission would be complete.
The second station was down the hall. It gave them a special sense of satisfaction to break into this office, the office of the man who couldn’t stop meddling.
They quickly entered the second of the three codes.
(please stop, don’t do this, don’t make me do this)
Now for the hardest part. It would take most of their remaining allotted time to get to Mission Control. That was, they supposed, built into the process deliberately, to reduce the chances that any one person could do what they were doing right now. But no matter. It was well within their capabilities, and when that was done, it would be the end of any further human missions through the wormhole.
They started shutting down Cal’s workstation.
“Catherine?”
(CAL STOP HER, STOP ME)
They stumbled back a step. That voice wasn’t so much a buzzing fly anymore. They had observed Catherine’s behavior for so long that they knew how to respond, turning her smile to him. “Hey, there you are.”
“What are you doing in my office?”
“Mission Control said you might still be up here.” Acting like Catherine wasn’t a problem. It was as easy as driving a car, as chatting up the security guards.
Cal was looking at her strangely, though. “But how did you get in here?”
“It was unlocked. I was just about to leave you a note.” The seconds were ticking by. They didn’t have much time. “But now I don’t have to!”
“Cath, we need to talk.”
“We really do.” They stepped over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. “And we will, but I have to go. I have to get home. Aimee’s in trouble.”
Confusion flitted across his face. These people were as soft-brained as they were soft-bodied. “Aimee—what happened?”
(Cal I’m in here that’s not me)
“I don’t have all the details yet. I’ll call you when I know more.” Taking a risk, they leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. They had observed Catherine’s thoughts and feelings, but the look of surprise on Cal’s face said they had misjudged. “We’ll talk when I get back.” They breezed past him and walked out of his office. There was still time to get to Mission Control.
“Wait!” Cal’s voice came from behind them. “Why a note? Why not just call me?”
They kept going, walking a little faster.
“Catherine, stop.” It sounded like an order.