Quantum radio, p.32
Quantum Radio, page 32
“I did,” Maria said, nodding.
“Well, it’s not over.”
“It almost was for me, once.”
“You know what I think?”
“Of the things I know, what you’re thinking isn’t one of them.”
“I think this whole thing—whatever is happening here—it’s like one big do-over.”
Maria cocked her head at him. “How do you figure?”
“I can’t say exactly. It’s just a feeling I get.”
“Can’t exactly take that to the bank.”
“My instincts have saved me a million times in the field.”
Maria considered that for a moment. Then she said the thing that scared her most in the world. “I’m not her.”
“You don’t need to be her.”
“You don’t understand. If she’s sung a song a hundred times, and I take the stage and try to sing it, someone will know it’s off.”
“We’ll tell them you have a cold.”
Maria closed her eyes. “It’s more than that. More than how you sound. It’s how you command the stage. Your command of the audience. She has it. I did once. Now… I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect.” Kato took a step toward her. “It just has to be the best you can do. That’s all any of us are doing.”
Ty appeared in the doorway to the master bedroom. “What’s going on?”
“Just clearing the room,” Kato said, his tone changing, more matter-of-fact. “Nothing so far.”
Ty turned away. “Well, we have found something.”
79
Maria climbed the opulent marble staircase, gripping the steel rail, the crystal chandelier buzzing overhead, her footsteps echoing around her.
At the top of the landing, there was a wide cased opening that led to a gathering room with a wet bar. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out onto a well-lit, manicured backyard. A pool spread out to the right, the water rippling slightly in the wind, the moon and lights from the tall security wall reflecting across it.
Maria realized she had stopped to gawk at it when Ty said, “This way.”
He was already marching down the hall, Kato behind him. They were less star-struck by the lavish home. In a strange way, that made Maria feel like even more of an outsider in the group.
Nora was waiting in an office with a simple white wooden desk with open legs. Two large club chairs sat in front of it. A couch, a coffee table, and comfy chairs sat in the corner.
A large laptop sat on the desk, the brand name SIEMENS stamped across the back.
“Get this,” Ty said, spinning the laptop around to face Maria and Kato.
“The operating system is called LinOS.” Ty pointed to the logo, which was a man’s face with longish hair and a faint smile. “As in Linus Torvalds. That’s crazy, right?”
Maria eyed the others. They were as lost as she was.
“I’m not sure we’re following,” Nora said.
“You know, Linus Torvalds, the inventor of Linux. Didn’t any of you ever use Red Hat Linux or another distribution?”
The silence gave him his answer.
Finally, Kato said, “I’m not familiar. Why? Is there a login vulnerability? Can you hack it?”
Ty shook his head. “No, I just thought it was interesting. Like Bill Gates might not even exist in this world. Linux—and its successor—clearly became the standard OS for consumer computers. Torvalds might be the richest person in this world.”
“Do you know him?” Kato asked.
Ty shook his head. “No. I don’t know him. I just thought it was cool. Let’s move on.” To Maria, he said, “Any idea what your password might be?”
“Valentina,” she said, almost without thinking.
Ty keyed it into the laptop. “Wrong. What else?”
Thus began an hours-long process of Maria guessing passwords, Ty tapping on the laptop keyboard, and Nora and Kato sitting on the couch, bored. Finally, Kato rose and walked to the door. “I’m going to do a security sweep.”
Maria figured he was simply tired of sitting there playing guess the password. She didn’t blame him.
“I’m going to get food from the kitchen,” Nora said. “Any requests?”
When Nora returned with sandwiches, Ty and Maria were still at it.
They had tried everything. Maria’s birth date. Favorite color. Father’s name (even saying it sent anger through her). She kept coming back to Valentina. Her mother’s name.
Kato strode in and laid a stack of crumpled pages on the desk. “I found these in the studio. They’re about the only papers there.”
The top page was a draft of a song that was partially completed. It had a typed heading and lyrics that had been marked through with a pencil. Handwritten notes lay between the lines and in the margins.
Maria read the title:
“A Hymn for The World After”
Holding her breath, Maria moved down the page, scanning the lines.
In the dark forest of our world
I heard the drumbeats of war
Beating in the night
Counting down to the end of all things
And in the darkness, I saw a light
Twinkling in the night
Shining all around me
Counting down to the end of all things
Reading the words gave Maria chills. It was her voice. Her rhythm. Lines like she might write, as though she had created this and forgotten it, as if she were an amnesiac retracing steps she couldn’t recall.
After Ty read it, he handed it to Nora. “Dark stuff.”
“It implies,” Kato said, “that this Maria Santos might know something about what the A21 rockets are carrying and what the Covenant’s plans are.”
The words hung in the air.
“Obviously,” Kato continued, “we should have the Pax spec-ops team interrogate her. I imagine she’ll talk after even light coercion—”
“No,” Maria whispered. She closed her eyes. “Please don’t.”
She could feel all of them looking at her.
“I can’t explain it,” she said, “but please don’t harm her. Nothing traumatic. I know we have to hold her until this is over, but I just… I don’t want to be part of anything that could harm her enough to derail her life.”
Kato reached out and put a hand on her upper back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about that. It was just instinct.”
“I understand. This is… all new. I know I don’t know her, and she’s not me, but—it’s hard to explain. I just don’t want her to be hurt.”
Kato jerked his head suddenly, pausing as if listening through his earpiece. “Surveillance team outside says someone is approaching the residence. On the sidewalk, dressed in a uniform. A female. Latin American. Looks to be in her fifties.”
Kato paused. “She’s at the door. She’s got a key.” To Maria, he said, “Get out there—to the foyer.”
“And say what?”
“Get rid of her.”
Maria bolted out of the office and out onto the landing. She gripped the rail and was about to descend the curved staircase into the foyer, but stopped.
She looked almost exactly like the other Maria Santos, with a few small exceptions: her face was slightly more worn, with more worry lines and sun damage. It was nothing makeup couldn’t fix. The other thing was the look in her eyes. Staring in a mirror, Maria had to admit that she had a sort of wounded, guarded look. And for good reason. In the photos scattered about this palatial home, this world’s Maria Santos stared out with a twinkle in her eye, the almost mischievous, playful glint of a woman ready to drink the world from a cup and howl at the moon.
Maria wasn’t that person, though she had been a few years ago. A friend or close acquaintance could tell the difference. They would be able to tell that something was wrong.
She lingered at the balcony overlook in the foyer, hoping the distance and darkness would hide the differences.
Below, the door swung open, and a heavyset woman shuffled in and immediately turned to close and lock the door. She was wearing a maid’s uniform and her hair was in a tight bun.
“Hi,” Maria called from above.
The woman jumped and spun, backing up into the door, a hand held to her chest. “Ma’am…” she said in Spanish. “You scared me.”
Maria held up her hands and answered in Spanish. “Sorry!”
The woman eyed her. “Is everything all right?”
Maria spread her hands out, mentally cringing the moment she did it, knowing she was overselling her casual act. “Fine. All good.”
The woman nodded slowly. “I see.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Ma’am?”
“I mean. What’s… on your schedule today?”
“I was going to start the laundry and make you breakfast of course.” She studied Maria again. “Did you have trouble sleeping before your trip? Shall I make something different?”
“No. No, not at all. I’ve just been working.”
“The nerves.”
“Yes, my nerves. Always before a performance.”
“Are you still leaving today?”
Maria’s heart beat faster. “Yes. Still today. In fact, I need to focus on getting ready. Why don’t you take the day off? I need a little space to work and think.”
The woman nodded. “Very well, Miss Santos. Good luck, dear.”
With that, the woman left, and Maria exhaled so hard she almost collapsed.
Back in the office, she opened her mouth to speak, but Kato cut her off. “We heard. Leaving today.” He turned to Ty. “We really need to get access to that laptop.”
80
Ty bit his lip. “I have an idea.”
Nora blew out a long breath. “It makes me nervous when you say that.”
“Don’t worry,” Ty said. “It’s not a crazy idea.” He smiled. “When I’m going to do something crazy, I’ll say, ‘Hey guys, watch this.’”
Nora slowly closed her eyes and shook her head as she suppressed a laugh.
Ty leaned over and typed quickly on the laptop’s keyboard, then grimaced.
“It didn’t work,” Nora said.
Ty typed again, concentrating on the next combination. “I’m not done yet.” It failed, and he mentally grasped for the next possibility. There were only a few left.
On the next attempt, the login screen disappeared. “We’re in.”
“How?” Nora asked, rounding the desk to stare at the screen.
“Maria’s first idea was actually correct, as first ideas usually are. Where we erred was not developing that idea enough. The password is Valentina.”
“Why didn’t it work the first time?” Kato asked.
“Because I simply typed in the word. Well, with a few variations on the capitalization. Then I gave up. But the idea was right. It just needed to be tweaked.”
“For security,” Nora said, seeming to realize the key.
“Correct,” Ty said. “The actual password is Valentina with an uppercase V, the numeral one where the ‘l’ is, and a plus sign where the ‘t’ is. It’s a strong password—with uppercase letters, lowercase letters, a number, and a special character. It’s also easy for Maria to remember. I bet when the system made her change it, she replaced letters with numbers or special symbols, like using the at sign for the letter ‘a’.”
Ty used the track pad to begin exploring the interface, which the geek inside of him was loving.
“Here’s the email app,” he said. “It’s called GotMail. That’s clever.”
Until the sun came up, they poured over the emails and documents on the computer. What they revealed was both surprising and promising.
Most of the communications between Santos and the Covenant had occurred on a secure network called ReichNetz that was only accessible via a Virtual Private Network—or VPN. There, they found the details they needed.
First, Santos had been hired to perform a single song—and not any of the songs in her current catalog. The Covenant had commissioned her to write an original song, and in those details, Ty got his first glimpse of what the Covenant was planning.
On the screen was a private message from Dr. Helen Klein. Even seeing his mother’s name here sent a chill through Ty. He dreaded reading it but knew he had to. He wondered if she would be in Peenemünde. He soon saw the answer.
Sehr geehrte Frau Santos,
Vielen Dank once again for agreeing to perform at The World After ceremony. Though the audience will be smaller than the crowds you are accustomed to performing for, I assure you that this will be, quite possibly, the most momentous performance of your life, one that will be remembered and written about in history books for generations. I’m sure that seems a bit hyperbolic to you now, but I am confident that time will prove those words true.
But first, a word on procedure. We require that you arrive the morning prior to The World After ceremony in order to rehearse and to ensure that all equipment functions properly. Travel arrangements may be left to you, or the Wehrmacht can arrange transport. We have no preference, but please inform us of your choice as expediently as possible.
You may bring a limited number of support staff—four at most. Please bear in mind that, by law, Pax citizens are not allowed anywhere inside the borders of the Covenant, including Reich Europa. South American citizens, such as yourself, are more than welcome. With that said, all members of your party will be required to present their SA ID cards, and their identities will be verified. This is standard procedure at all Covenant military facilities.
Please also be aware that no electronic devices will be allowed inside the facilities at Peenemünde, including mobile phones, smart watches, and smart bands. Any such devices will be confiscated at the security checkpoint at the airfield and held until your departure.
Additionally, members of your party will be searched upon arrival. As I’m sure you’re aware, narcotics are strictly forbidden throughout the Covenant. The mandatory sentencing guidelines inside the Reich are quite severe for illegal possession of restricted substances or medications without a proper prescription. I say this not to accuse but in hopes of avoiding any unpleasantness.
We request that you perform a single rehearsal the night before the ceremony so that we may test the technical equipment. Peenemünde is a large facility that has grown over the last hundred years it has been in use. The World After ceremony will occur at the old power plant, which now serves as the administrative office for the Aggregat program and conference center. You will be performing in the turbine hall, and I do hope you will find the acoustics suitable.
With that, I turn now to the main event, if you will: our humble request for a song that we hope will become a classic for the ages.
What we envision is a sort of anthem for a turning point in human history, a hymn celebrating an event that will forever mark the transition from decades of war to everlasting peace, a song to celebrate a technical achievement and a new dawn for humanity.
It should be a somber piece. We see The World After as humanity’s destiny, but one we will buy with the greatest price of all: human lives. It is a peace we have paid for with blood and time and lost futures. It is a peace only achieved on the other side of war. The song we request is in that vein: of a people striving for an end to hostility and being brave enough to pay the price for it, of a world with a single society and purpose, forged in fire and inseparable forevermore.
You were selected by our committee because your Worlds & Time album encompasses so many of the themes of this night, of the dawning of The World After. So many of your songs and lyrics speak to our struggle and what’s ahead.
I hope that you will find inspiration in the guidance I have provided, and I so very look forward to meeting you in person.
With great admiration and very best wishes,
Helen
Ty read the letter through again, lingering on his mother’s words. It was so bizarre to see a window into such a dark version of the woman who had been the only constant in his life, a shining beacon of light in the dark periods of his youth. And here she was, in another world, with values so different. Or were they? Was the version of Helen Klein he knew still somewhere inside of her?
He would know soon—and time was running out. In the office, the four of them set about working to prepare.
Kato radioed the Pax security team outside and had them convey a series of requests to the embassy. The first priority was finding three South American citizens who were close in appearance to Ty, Nora, and Kato.
Next up was logistics. It turned out that Maria Santos had her own plane, but she had a contract with a group called Aeromericas to house the plane, maintain it, and provide a pilot and flight staff.
Maria phoned them and informed them that she would provide her own staff and pilot for the flight to Peenemünde, and they agreed without protest. Apparently, this Maria Santos had the option of supplying her own personnel and simply using the company for maintenance and storage.
Next, they tracked down all of the actual staff that were slated to accompany the singer. Ty could tell Maria was nervous as she called them, but what she related to them was a highly plausible cover story: that Reich Europa security was now insisting that they alone select who accompanied Maria to the private ceremony. Thanks to the Reich’s apparent reputation, each person Maria called accepted the explanation without complaint.
The doorbell echoed through the house. On the laptop, Ty pulled up an app called HomeCentral, which offered access to the house’s speakers, automated shades, lights, thermostat, and cameras.
On the security feed, he watched from the front door camera as a delivery man from Andeso Inc. walked away from the front porch. A package sat on the mat.
“I bet it’s from the embassy,” Kato said, and slipped out of the room. Soon, Ty saw him on the camera opening the door and snatching the package.
The box held the rest of what they needed for the mission: directions to the private airport in Buenos Aires where Maria’s plane was waiting, South American IDs for the individuals Nora, Ty, and Kato would impersonate, and aerial maps of Peenemünde.
