Technosis: The Kensington Virus (20 page)

CHAPTER 26

CLASSIFIED CYBER WARFARE HEARING

H
e’s in shock!” a voice barked out and Blaise’s world returned to a series of erratic images.

The ceiling and the walls suggested that he was back in Maryland at the Cyber Warfare Base. The people around him were unfamiliar to him. But the uniforms were medical detail guards, the ones that were assigned to terrorists and enemy combatants. Blaise tried to feel his hands and feet. There was no response. A shielded face in an orange surgical suit came into view and leaned in low over Jericho. “Lieutenant, you’ve been injured and are being held in protective custody. We are treating your injuries and are optimistic that we can achieve a seventy-six percent recovery. We want you to rest, relax and take time to recover,” the voice said, then applied the leads to Blaise’s head.

Blaise’s eyes rolled as consciousness slipped away from him. He had recognized the voice. It was Dr. Gottfried. Then there was darkness.

∞

“…09:00 hours that the interview of Captain Jericho Blaise is beginning. Let the record show that Commander Halle Preston is present, as is Cyber Warfare Judge Advocate General Mark Wallace and court reporter Linda Bonsen, and I’m General Thomas Talbot. Lieutenant, please give us your full name for the record.”

“What…” Blaise asked as the vague group of shapes resolved into the forms of six people.

“Your full name for the record,” General Talbot repeated.

“What is going on here?” Blaise asked. He could now see he was on a portable bed in a hearing room and there were two guards flanking the hearing table.

“As I said -” General Talbot started again.

“Pardon me General, Captain Blaise,” Commander Halle Preston interrupted. “Do you know where you are?”

Blaise thought about this for a moment. This was a hearing. What he thought he knew was not the same as knowing. He shook his head.

“You are at Cyber Warfare Base in Fort Mead, Maryland. You’ve been here for six weeks. This is an interview related to your recent deployment in Michigan. We are here to ask you questions regarding that mission,” she said. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, commander,” Blaise said.

“For the record, your full name,” General Talbot requested.

“Jericho Mackenzie Blaise.”

“You led your team in operations in Michigan?” General Talbot asked.

“I led team ‘Lemming’ in operation ‘Escape from Detroit,’” Blaise answered.

“A simple yes, or no will suffice.”

“Is his answer inaccurate in any way?” Judge Advocate General Mark Wallace asked.

There was a pause. General Talbot gave the JAG a meaningful look. “Let’s go off the record for a moment.”

“We’re off the record,” the court reporter said.

“Mark, we do not need or want any of this extraneous crap. We just want the basic information,” General Talbot said.

“We don’t get to determine what is extraneous,” the JAG officer said.

“General, can I make a suggestion?” Blaise asked.

“Yes, captain?” General Talbot asked.

“Let me give a brief report. I will avoid the extraneous. Then you can ask the questions you need to,” Blaise said, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over him.

Talbot, Wallace and Preston discussed the option among themselves and returned a moment later.

“We will have you make an opening statement. But, if you discuss anything that we determine to be irrelevant or otherwise unnecessary to our inquiry we will suspend this session immediately and reconvene at a later time in a level four security hearing,” the JAG officer said.

And there it was. Despite his exhaustion, Blaise finally understood where he was and where this could go. It wasn’t a level four security hearing so he was not categorized as an ‘enemy combatant’ yet. All he had to do was figure out where the third rail was and not touch it.

“We are back in session,” the court reporter announced.

“Captain Blaise has asked to make statement,” the JAG officer announced. “Captain Blaise.”

“I was leading one of the two teams deployed to address a situation in Detroit, Michigan. Our team was comprised of qualified individuals and we had clear orders that were well reasoned. While en route we experienced a complication with non-essential tech. We jettisoned the tech and proceeded with all haste to our destination. Shortly after we arrived our transport experienced spontaneous and total systems failure. I communicated with Cyber Warfare command and was apprised of the change in the situation. Our team would be reprioritizing our objectives and would have limited support,” Blaise said.

“We proceeded to obtain necessary support equipment. It was at this time we also became aware that another group or party was operating in the area, using HDMP support equipment and representing themselves as having operational authority to do so. It was at that point that I came to suspect foreign agents or terrorist cell groups were staging operations in the Detroit metro area.”

“Pardon me,” Commander Preston interjected. “How did you identify that there was a cell group?”

“We were informed that all the equipment, transports and tech that Cyber Warfare had stored at the HDMP base had been requisitioned by another party prior to our arrival,” Blaise replied.

“And you knew this wasn’t the other team deployed, how?” the JAG officer asked.

“We arrived ahead of the other team,” Blaise told him.

“How far ahead?” the JAG demanded

“The other team never arrived. It was my understanding that the other team was missing somewhere over Ohio,” Blaise said.

“Let’s go off record,” the JAG officer suggested and the interview was suspended.

Blaise was taken back to a private room where he slept under guard for the rest of the day.

The interview continued the following day. Blaise wasn’t allowed to make any further statements. He instead answered questions about Jamie Baxter and Carl Marshall.

“Who had discovered the tech failure after takeoff?” they had asked.

“Dr. Baxter,” Blaise answered.

“Who had watched and read the recorded data retrieved from the federal forensic psychiatric facility in Bloomfield Hills?” was another question.

“Dr. Baxter.”

“Who was it that determined the transmission frequencies associated with the Kensington virus?”

“Dr. Baxter.”

“Who was it that developed the shutdown frequency signal?”

“Dr. Baxter.”

Over and over again the questions were about Dr. Baxter. Their questions about Marshall were limited to his death. Blaise had tried to tell them what happened to Agent Ganos and how Marshall had shot and killed her. He tried to talk about the ambush in the subbasement. They didn’t let him complete the sentence. They went back to Dr. Baxter again and again. The interview was concluded and Jericho was returned to his room, where he remained under guard.

CHAPTER 27

FORT MEAD FEDERAL HEALTHCARE CAMPUS

J
ericho heard nothing for two more weeks, during which time he was seen by one of Dr. Gottfried’s staff physicians daily to monitor his progress. One morning he woke up and found his guard gone, and on his nightstand was a small box and a data card. He placed the data card on the terminal array and saw the notice of commendation, the notice of promotion and the notice of separation from the Cyber Warfare service with a full service disability retirement. He turned off the terminal, placed the box in a drawer and went back to sleep.

Jericho’s sleep was not a peaceful rest. It was a sleep of complete paralysis during which images flashed through his immobile mind and reassembled themselves in sequences that were not memories. Baxter had arranged the tech failures. Baxter had hacked the cyber command. Baxter had caused the other helicopter to crash. Baxter was the mole. Baxter had killed Agents Drake and Ganos, Lieutenant Marshall and Sergeant Rosen. Blatant lies, all. But when Jericho tried to reject these images there was unspeakable pain. When he let them run, unchallenged, there was peace, silence. There was also something else, something that Dr. Gottfried hadn’t been aware of. There were the real memories, the memories of the gymnasium in Maryland. The memories of the minders, the doctors and the memories of the signs – We Rule By The Consent of The Unconscious. Then there was the memory of the day when they assembled in the gymnasium and went out two by two through the far end doors. They’d called out their names, were handed a pack and stepped beyond the doors. That was where the wall was. It was the wall between everything he thought of being his real life and everything he’d remembered since the cortex stimulant injection in Detroit.

Sitting in the common room of the Federal Health Care Campus in Fort Mead, Maryland, Jericho was reviewing his itinerary. He had his civilian travel data, security passes and necessary ID. He’d been given federal commissary privileges, the standard post service health plan and an invitation to register as a civilian consultant to unspecified departments for unspecified payments. He looked at these and waited for the transport that would take him and twenty or so other patients to the train station.

“Transport to BWI and BWI Amtrak Station has arrived,” a recorded message announced.

Jericho lifted up his bag and joined the group of men and women who were assembling to board the transport. The doors opened and they filed out.

“Jericho!” someone yelled.

Blaise looked over and saw Lieutenant Fenwick. “What are you doing here?” Blaise asked.

“I’m here to drive you to the airport,” Fenwick said, taking Jericho’s bag.

“I see you’ve made captain,” Blaise noted, taking in Fenwick’s new insignia.

“We’ll talk about it on the ride to the airport,” Fenwick said, and led him off to the parking area where he had a civilian transport parked.

“I’m taking the train,” Blaise told him.

“Why?” Fenwick asked, while stowing the bag in the back of the vehicle.

“I’m retired and in no rush,” Jericho replied.

“Must be nice,” Fenwick observed, and got in the driver’s side.

Fenwick backed up the vehicle and managed to get out ahead of the transport that would be taking the patients to BWI. “Pardon me,” Fenwick said, setting a cube on the dash board. “I just need to do one thing.”

There was a high pitched whine and then a perfect silence. “We clear?” Jericho asked.

“Safe and sound,” Fenwick confirmed. “Did you see the final report?”

Jericho shook his head.

“They blamed it on Baxter. The KVB’s, the grid shutdown, the missiles, everything,” Fenwick said.

“That’s what I suspected they’d do.”

“What are you going to do?” Fenwick asked.

“Nothing,” Jericho said, looking behind him to see the federal transport rolling to a stop by the roadside.

“Nothing?” Fenwick asked. “There is a -”

“Group of big boys with big toys playing games with each other,” Blaise cut him off.

“What about Baxter or Rosen or -”

“Dead, so not relevant.”

“That is cold,” Fenwick said, shaking his head.

“Look back at the transport,” Jericho suggested.

Fenwick saw, disappearing behind him, the federal transport being surrounded by HDMP officers. “Damn. Lucky thing I picked you up.”

“Yes, lucky thing,” Jericho agreed.

“So you’re out?” Fenwick asked.

“Yes. And you’re in.”

“After the investigation they promoted me. I’ll be stationed in -”

“Don’t tell me. I don’t have clearance anymore,” Jericho cut him off.

“What will you do?”

Jericho thought about this for a moment. “I’m going to travel for a while. Then I’ll probably enroll in one of the federal training centers and learn a new trade”

“But you’ve got full retirement. You can do anything you want,” Fenwick argued.

Jericho shrugged. “I want to be useful.”

“You could consult. What did they retire you at?”

“Major, full retirement,” Jericho watched the road as HDMP vehicles came speeding up alongside them.

“Golden,” Fenwick said. “You thinking about flying?”

“Not really. I’ll try and keep my hours in but I don’t think after what we’ve flown that civilian side offers much excitement.”

The HDMP vehicles sped on past them and further down the road. “I know what you mean.”

A few minutes later Fenwick pulled up at the Amtrak station. He took the cube from the dash board and handed it to Jericho. Jericho pocketed it without a word. Fenwick got the bag from the trunk and handed it to Jericho.

“I guess this is it,” Fenwick said.

“Yes, this is it,” Jericho replied, his face cold and stony.

Fenwick gave him a hug and Jericho hugged him back. “Don’t be a stranger,” Fenwick said.

“You’ll know where to find me.” Jericho smiled, then hoisted his bag to his shoulder and walked down to the security check point.

The dogs were growling at approaching travelers. Jericho walked up to the HDMP officer and the dogs fell silent. “Destination?” the officer droned in an dull and disinterested tone.

“Los Angeles,” Jericho informed him.

The officer looked confused and then checked the data file which confirmed that Jericho was going to Los Angeles by train. “Why?” he asked.

“No rush, would like to see some of the country,” Jericho said.

“FULL SCAN!” the HDMP officer yelled and Jericho stepped out of line and into the full scan security check.

“Pockets empty?” a short and surly woman demanded.

“Yes,” Jericho said.

“Shoes off and step into the scanner station,” she instructed him.

Jericho stepped in and there was the flash, a high pitched whine and another flash, then the blast of air and the lights went green. “Step on through,” she told him.

The bag scan and inside inspection of his luggage were completed and Jericho was given clearance to board the train. He went to the boarding area for his car and showed the conductor his data pass. He was directed to step up into the car and go to the back where he took his seat and waited for the train to start its run to Washington Union Station.

Several minutes passed and the last walk through of the HDMP guards was completed. The train pulled away and seven minutes later Jericho was disembarking to catch his connecting train, the Capital Unlimited; an older train that first started service in 2030 and was named two decades before the current budget impasse. Jericho was directed to his car where he had reserved a private compartment. The accommodations were, when compared to the luxurious roomettes of the early 21st century American trains, spartan. But they provided Blaise with what he needed.

He secured the door to his cabin, opened his bag and retrieved from the lining a small, flat panel. He passed it around the cabin and it became bright red when he passed it near a section of the outside wall. He took the cube from his pocket and placed it on the outside wall. He passed the panel around again. This time it did not flash red. Blaise began inventorying the bag. He found the data sheets he expected to find there and the final report. There was also a weapon, ammunition and a terminal. Blaise smiled. It had all gone brown trousers and Fenwick had packed him a bag and given him a ride.

There was a whistle and a bell indicating the departure of the train. Blaise settled in with the reports and began to read. The train pulled away from the station. The reports were exactly what he expected them to be. Just the way his conversation with Fenwick on the ride to BWI had been made for the consumption of others. Nowhere in the reports were there any mentions of Baxter. There was no blame assigned and no credit given. There was only a list of events, equipment inventories and the count of dead citizens and personnel. Blaise read the reports and correlated the information. There were over 300,000 bodies following the signal transmission. The KVB surge in Detroit had stopped. The Kensington virus spread had, outside of Detroit, stabilized without apparent explanation.

The official report, published by the state agencies through their communications groups, was that there had been a limited terrorist attack against Detroit by international anarchists. Leaders had been arrested and were being held by HDMP officials in undisclosed locations pending military tribunal hearings. “Leaked” information included a release of a manifesto and international locations where these cells originated from. The leaked information – which was more official than the official reports – indicated that military reprisals against host nations and financial benefactors were imminent.

A signal flashed on Blaise’s tech. He accepted the notice, and a message appeared on his screen.

Major Jericho Blaise
, the message began. Blaise felt himself tense.
The cleanup is nearly complete. The more they try to obscure it the more apparent the truth will be.

Blaise’s hand tightened on his tech.
Inside and outside they control all. If you draw a line in any direction you will arrive at their door. They will greet you as friend. They will treat you as confidant and compatriot. Then they will sacrifice you.
Blaise’s eyes were lost in haze of red.

You cannot join anyone. There are no sides. There is no right or wrong. There is only conscious participation or unconscious compulsion. You are in a zugzwang. All actions are wrong and inaction is impossible.

Blaise felt the throbbing in his temples.

You are in, as product, byproduct, player or observer. You are in and there is no out.

The pressure increased in Blaise’s head.

We will meet again, soon.

Eyeless in Gaza.

∞

Thomas Morton was walking from his home to his office in Seattle, Washington. The weather was pleasant, overcast and promised that proper combination of temperature and moisture that would see his rhododendrons continue their rapid growth. He’d planted them with his ex-husband Larry, who had no natural gift for gardening, but had been companionable and reliable labor. Thomas was a block from his office when his tech signaled that he had a message. It was 8:08 AM Pacific time. Thomas saw the message and thought,
Think of the devil.

He began to read. His pace slowed. He tried to stop reading. His vision was lost behind a red haze. Thomas Morton was dead at 8:15 AM Pacific time. He arrived at his office and worked the rest of the day.

∞

Adjoa Kalejaiye was preparing her classroom in the eastern cape of South Africa for the arrival of students when she received a notice on her tech that she had a message from her cousin, Boitumelo. She paused from putting up display terminals and laying out the data sheets to accept the message. The message had the normal greeting between Adjoa and Boitumelo, but then the message became strange. Adjoa was confused and wondered if this could possibly be her cousin. She tried to stop reading, but she found it caused her pain to do so. She continued to read and her head began to throb. Adjoa started to see everything through a red haze.

Forty minutes later, when the students arrived in Adjoa Kalejaiye’s classroom, their teacher had been dead for twenty minutes. She told the children to take their seats. They did their morning attendance, completed the morning announcements. Then Adjoa assigned them a silent reading exercise and spent the remainder of that class period sending messages.

∞

Liam Russell, conductor for the Capital Unlimited, was walking through the compartment car completing his post departure scan of all passengers’ travel data. The procedure was redundant as there were four levels of scan prior to departure. But policy was that he had to have them all scanned before they arrived at their first stop. As it was, they were a few miles out from Rockville, Maryland and he had three passengers left to scan. Two weren’t in their cabin and Liam was fairly sure they were a newlywed couple. So he would check the showers first and then the dining car. The third one he thought was in his compartment. But when Liam swept his scanner over the room it didn’t register anything. Liam stepped up to the compartment door and knocked on it. He heard a cracking sound, and he heard movement inside. He knocked again. There was silence and then the door to the compartment opened.

A tall man with a military posture emerged. He was holding a shattered piece of tech.

“Doing a passenger data scan,” Liam informed the man.

“Okay,” the man said, and passed a data card to Liam.

Liam took the card and scanned it, and handed it back. Now he only had to find the couple and he could transmit his report.

“Pardon me,” the man said. “Do you have someplace I can put this? I’m afraid a piece of my tech broke.”

“We don’t have a repair service on board,” Liam explained.

“No. I’ll get a replacement. I just need to dispose of this,” the man told him, opening his hand to reveal the piece of broken tech.

“I can dispose of that for you,” Liam said. The tech was expensive and he could take it to a salvage office on his way home.

“Thanks,” the man responded, and withdrew into his cabin.