AMPED (22 page)

Finally, after hundreds of proposals got nowhere, one emerged that evolved into something the countries of the world reluctantly agreed upon. The alien craft would be studied in international waters, so it wasn’t on
any
nation’s home turf. And the effort would be located as distant as possible from the worlds’ major military powers. This ended up being in the South Atlantic, closest to Africa and South America, and nearly equidistant from North America, Europe, and Asia.

To provide the proper platform, the U.N. commandeered
The Spectacle of the Sea
, built in Finland, which was the latest leader in a race that had gone on for decades among luxury cruise lines to build ever more gargantuan ships.
Spectacle
could house twelve thousand passengers and crew. It was over five football fields in length and one in width. It was twenty-eight stories tall. It was an exercise in decadence and the amazing potential of human enterprise and engineering, costing well over two billion dollars to build.

The ship had several full sized basketball and volleyball courts on its upper deck, and a half mile running track. It boasted a grassy park, a football field in length, which sported a variety of different trees and other vegetation, as well as streams packed with freshwater fish. During cruises, over seventy-five tons of ice were produced to satisfy the needs of the ship’s twenty-seven cafes and restaurants and forty-six bars. Forty-two tanks stored the nearly one million gallons of freshwater used by passengers each day.
The Spectacle of the Sea
was home to eight swimming pools, two nightclubs, several huge auditoriums and three theaters.

It would barely be big enough.

Scientific equipment of every kind would be flown in. Pools would be drained and seats removed from theaters. Parks, restaurants, ballrooms, and spas would be pressed into service housing equipment, or would be converted into other needed facilities.

A large portion of the upper deck would become a makeshift airport for jets and helicopters alike, turning the ship into the world’s largest aircraft carrier. All air and sea approaches to the ship would be patrolled by a U.N. peacekeeping force, and only those craft that had been cleared by U.N. representatives at various staging areas on the West Coast of Africa, which meant their passengers and crew were on the approved list and they had been thoroughly screened for weapons, would be allowed through the gauntlet and onto the ship.

The effort would be managed by the winners of the last twenty-one Nobel Prizes in physics, chemistry, and medicine, awarded over the past seven years. These twenty-one could elect internal leadership as they saw fit, in much the same way that juries elected jury foremen. This central committee of Nobel Laureates would select up to two thousand additional scientists to join the cruise, without concern for nationality. The governments of each of the nearly two hundred countries represented would be allowed forty delegates in addition to these scientists—with no questions asked, although arms would not be allowed on board—and each would be assigned their own block of quarters, Olympic-village style. Along with these two thousand scientists and eight thousand delegates, two thousand members of the ship’s standard crew and staff would round out the on board population.

Every stateroom on board was already equipped with at least a thirty-inch screen for entertainment and for passengers to plan and book on-land excursions. Each screen would be tied into a ship-wide network, so that all delegates would be able to receive important feeds and schedules.

Getting this immense floating platform ready would require a heroic effort, but no one suggested it shouldn’t be done. Yes, the effort could be a bust. The alien craft could change course. It could hover above the Earth for a few minutes and then sail into the Sun. Perhaps it would reveal its secrets immediately, bringing the enlightenment and making the U.N. effort unnecessary.

If the craft didn’t land, or wasn’t retrievable, returning the cruise ship to its original condition, and reimbursing the company for its use, would set the governments of the world back about a hundred million dollars. On a global scale, this was rounding error, even if the world was still suffering from one of the harshest economic climates in recent memory.

A number of names had been suggested for the ship, since
Spectacle of the Sea
was somehow not a fitting moniker for the ark that would host an unprecedented worldwide collaboration to study an object that would forever change history.
United Earth, Pax Humanity, The Spirit of Mankind
, and
The
Tower of Babel
were all considered. But in the end the biggest vote-getter was the
Copernicus
, after the man who many believed had ushered in modern science, creating the Copernican revolution with his heretical theory that the Earth was not the center of the universe. Not only was Earth
not
the center of the universe, in one fell swoop the incoming alien craft had made it clear it wasn’t even the center of
life
in the universe, or even
intelligent
life.

The
Copernicus
would fly the flag of the United Nations, a body that had become hopelessly corrupt in many ways, serving as a public forum for countries with hateful and intolerant ideologies. A once august body that now allowed countries with the worst human rights records in the world to head human rights commissions, attacking political enemies with human rights records far better than their own. But even the most ardent critics of the U.N. were hopeful that this effort could at least redeem the concept of cooperation among nations.

So plans were made and delegates selected. The
Spectacle of the Sea
, now the
Copernicus
, would be stationed in international waters, just off the coast of Angola, but close enough to Namibia, Botswana, and South Africa that ports and aircraft from these countries could be used to shuttle delegates to the ship.

The massive sea vessel crawled through the waves toward its destination at just over twenty miles an hour, not wanting to be late for a rendezvous with a craft that had traveled trillions of miles for unguessable purposes.

The alien object might change course, or it might not be retreivable.

But if it was, the world would be ready.

30

Colonel Morris Jacobson took one last look at the waters of the Potomac and turned back toward the street, where a stretch black limo, its windows tinted, was pulling up beside him. He checked his watch. Punctual as always.

The door swung open and he slid inside the cocoon of luxury. His boss, Andrew Dutton, was inside, sipping a glass of scotch. Dutton’s official title within the Department of Defense was
Senior Civilian Advisor on Special Operations Forces, Counterterrorism, Irregular Warfare, and Counternarcotics
. But unofficially, off the radar, he was much, much more. There were those in the government with fancier titles, both civilian and military, and who reported, at least on paper, to higher levels, but none had more power than Dutton nor readier access to the ear of the president.

Jake extended his hand to shake, but Dutton ignored him, offering only an expression of contempt in return. “Let’s not waste time beating around the bush, Colonel,” said Dutton by way of greeting. “I read your report. What the fuck is going on? You lose her before I even know you
have
her! What kind of bullshit is that?”

Jake met his boss’s steady gaze. “I admit it wasn’t my finest hour. But you of all people know I work independently and call my own plays. You, yourself, insisted on this level of autonomy. Once you and I agree on the direction of the end zone, I’m responsible for driving the team down the field.”

“If I hear one more fucking football metaphor in this town I swear to God I’m going to puke.”

“The point stands,” said Jake.

 
“Then let me make myself crystal clear,” snapped Dutton. “From here on out, if you know anything useful about this Icarus—
anything
—I want to know about it without delay. And if you have Kira Miller in your sites—I want to know about it
yesterday
. Is that understood?”

“Understood.”

“And I’d like to see the footage you have of her.” He shook his head in disgust. “You know, during the brief time you were able to hold on to her.”

“There is no footage.”

“
You didn’t film her?
” yelled Dutton in disbelief.

“I’m afraid not,” lied Jake, inwardly cursing himself for revealing to Kira that he had taken a gellcap, and describing his actions while under its influence. This was now on the video, and was not something he wanted known,
especially
not by Andrew Dutton.

“I’ve always thought you were very good at what you do,” said Dutton. “But I may have to modify that assessment. How could you be so fucking incompetent as to not have a camera on her?”

Jake held his ground. “Because it was a brief meeting,
not
an interrogation. Once the interrogation started we’d have all the footage you could ever want. But I wanted a few minutes alone with her beforehand. Just to size her up. Get a feel for her. See what she looked like in person.”

“See what
she
looked like. Or her tits?”

“She was fully dressed the entire time I was with her.”

“That’s not what it looked like to the men outside your office door. And according to them, the girl claimed you tried to get a
feel for her
all right—with your pecker.”

“She made that up to help her escape, and you know it!” snapped Jake. “I didn’t touch her! One of the guards she attacked is a third level black belt in two different martial arts, and he couldn’t lay a
hand
on her. I couldn’t have raped her if I wanted to. It’d be easier trying to rape a wood chipper.”

“I don’t know,” said Dutton. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t want any filming. Without video, how do we know what really happened in there? Maybe you were forcing yourself on her when her super IQ kicked in and you lost control of the situation. You admit yourself she was just normal, helpless Kira Miller before she surprised the shit out of you.”

“There’s nothing normal or helpless about Kira Miller, believe me. Even when she’s not amped up.”

“Maybe you ripped her clothes open and uncuffed her so you could have better, um . . . access.”

“What are you saying? That you believe the word of a psychopath over mine? One trying to distract my men to help her escape at the time?”

“No. I’m saying you didn’t film your meeting! And your very own report says her cuffs were found near your desk, completely intact. Removed from her. She couldn’t have done it herself.”

“The report also said there was clear evidence of scratches on the ratcheting mechanism, and we found an unwound paperclip nearby. She picked them.”

“You can pick plastic handcuffs with a paperclip?”

“If you know what you’re doing, yes.”

“Then why are they considered the ultimate restraint?”

“Not many people have the knowledge or skill to pull it off.” He shook his head angrily. “But enough of this. I told you I didn’t touch her. I
won’t
say it again, and I won’t defend myself further. I’m offended by your accusations. If you have even the slightest doubt that I’m telling you the truth, I’ll tender my resignation right now.”

Dutton stared at him for a long moment. “I believe you, Colonel,” he snarled. “If I didn’t, I’d have relieved you of duty already.” He swirled his drink and studied the dark amber liquid before bringing it to his lips once again.

He lowered the glass. “But I grilled you just now for a reason,” he said. “Because you fucked up big time. And you know it. How about taping your sessions with prisoners from now on? You have a session with perhaps the most important prisoner you’ve ever had, and you let her get away.
Without any record she was even there
. If it weren’t for the quality of your service, I’d not only take your resignation, I’d
insist
on it. I’m still spitting blood over this one.” He paused. “But I’m going to give you a second chance.” He leaned in closer to the colonel and glared at him. “Believe me, you won’t get a third.”

For just an instant, Jake contemplated telling his boss to shove the job up his ass, but he contained himself. The irony was that he didn’t
want
another chance. He was beginning to hate this job. He’d be thrilled to let someone else do it. But since they wouldn’t have the benefit of experiencing an enhanced IQ the way he had, they would have no idea what they were really up against. Unfortunately, he was uniquely qualified to respond to the threat posed by Kira Miller and Icarus.

“Do you have any other leads?” asked Dutton, his voice now less confrontational.

“Some. Which we’re working through. But I’m not all that hopeful.”

“So you’re back to where you started before you found that physicist, Rosenfield?”

“Rosenblatt,” corrected Jake. “Yes. Pretty much.”

“That’s just fucking great,” growled Dutton in disgust. “Well, I’ve got more bad news when it comes to what you’re now calling the Icarus op,” he said. “We’re throttling back for now. I have a new job that takes precedence. Still keep ten percent of your attention and resources focused on Icarus, and another fifteen percent on your other ops.”

Jake looked on in disbelief. “What could be important enough to displace what I’m doing now?”

“The alien craft heading our way,” replied Dutton simply.

Jake did a double take. “What could that possibly have to do with
me
?”

“They’re setting up a cruise ship off the coast of Angola to study it,” explained Dutton, who then went on to describe how this would be handled; information that, while currently privileged, would be communicated across the globe in less than twenty-four hours. “I want you and a few handpicked men on that cruise ship. As security. I may join you as well, but that’s still being decided. I also want your team back in the States to profile all delegates, scientists, and crew who come on board. When it comes to anything having to do with the alien craft, you’re now the intelligence arm of this country.”