Moonstrike! Chapter 4 - Disappearance
Author's note: The "explosive bracelet, plutonium store business" lines refers to the Thunderbirds episode, "30 Minutes After Noon". I think the story and the use of the Erdman gang might fall in with the stated objectives of the eco-terrorist group I've devised here. "Deke" the AI (Artificial Intelligence) is inspired by Math Girl's quantum computer, Five, in her series of stories.However, "Deke" and his counterpart, "Wally", aren't quite that powerful.
Disclaimers, et al.
Chapter 1: Discovery
Chapter 2: Enemies
Chapter 3: Trust
Late July, 2065
John sat before his broadcast monitor, and said, "Deke, surf."
A disembodied voice with a decided Western drawl said, "Yes, sir."
The televid images flipped along, giving him three seconds or so before the next channel was presented. John leaned back in his chair, listening to the audio clips as they blipped by, using the skill he had honed from months on the station. The images were a blur to him; the sound was not. Finally, his ear caught a familiar name and he sat up. "Stop," he said. The channel wasn't the one he wanted, so he added, "Deke, reverse five."
The images jumped back five spots, but that wasn't the one he wanted either. "Reverse one more."
The monitor obeyed. The picture that appeared was a portrait of an older man, with neat dark hair and silver at his temples. The audio tuned in a split-second later. "...Dr. Heinrich Findelmeyer was found lying by the Castle of Aulencia, on the grounds of the European Space Astronomy Center, in Villafranca, Spain." The portrait became smaller, and moved to a corner of the screen, while a recorded shot of an ancient building took up the rest, old gray stone streaked with rain, and a man-shaped lump hidden by a bright yellow plastic blanket. Not entirely hidden, either; a dark shoe poked out from the end nearest the camera. The voice droned on. "An autopsy will be performed to determine the exact cause of death, but murder is suspected..."
"Findelmeyer," John murmured. "I think I met him last year..." He rolled his chair over to the computer, and said, "Deke, search for any mention of Heinrich Findelmeyer."
"You got it, boss," the obliging voice told him.
Within nanoseconds John had a long list of hits, most of them recent news articles from one source or another. He picked his favorite one, and when he had the article in front of him, began to read.
"Hm. He was last seen leaving the XMM-Newton Survey Archive at the University of Leicester, England six days ago, on his way to the VILSPA in Spain. He was to arrive the next day, but failed to do so. After forty-eight hours, a missing persons report was filed, and the police in England, France, Spain and Germany, where he lived, were alerted. He was found at six o'clock this morning..." John glanced up at his own clock. "...make that yesterday morning by some sightseers who were visiting the castle ruins. No clues, so far, it seems." He rubbed his freshly shaved chin. "No ransom demands, no one claiming responsibility. He didn't have a lot of money; astronomers rarely make huge salaries. Still, there's something odd about this. I wish I knew what it was."
Deke's voice came again. "Maybe this would help."
One title on the list jumped out in large type. "What is happening to our star gazers?"
John sat forward, interested. "Okay, show me, Deke." The article opened, and John began to read it through. With each new paragraph, his sense of consternation and apprehension grew.
"What is happening to our leading astronomers? For some reason, seven of them from around the world have disappeared under mysterious circumstances. At least three of them have turned up, or their bodies have. The other four are still missing. Just today, the body of Dr. Heinrich Findelmeyer surfaced, left on the grounds of his last destination. These men and women are among our best and brightest when it comes to viewing and interpreting the data that streams in daily from the various orbital telescopes, land-based arrays, and lunar observatories. So why are they disappearing? And can the police do anything to stop it?"
The rest of the article recapped the who, what and where of the other six cases. Of the seven mentioned, John recognized five, including his friend, Tatiana Rafalko. She was still missing.
He sat back, leaving the article burning on the computer screen. Older by him by a few years, plump, dark-haired and dark-eyed Tatiana had been an exchange student when John was at Harvard. They had classes together, and John, who was studying Russian, enjoyed having someone to converse with in that tongue. For her part, Tatiana was happy to have a companion who could explain American English idioms to her, sparing her a good deal of embarrassment. They often talked and studied over coffee, and sometimes would take in Boston's many cultural offerings together. More than once they headed to South Boston to hear his sister Rhea play fiddle in an Irish pub. It would have been easy for them to become lovers, but Tatiana was engaged to marry, and hadn't wanted to complicate matters with a short-term affair. Unfortunately, sometime during the eighteen months she was in the U.S., her fiancé decided he didn't quite feel the same, and she returned to a severed engagement and a broken heart. She and John had kept up their long-term friendship, and John had recently thought about feeling his father out about making her an agent.
"Now this..." With a sigh, John glanced over to the ladder leading up to the astrodome. He considered trying to get some better images of the asteroids; the best telescope that money could buy was linked to another array farther out in space, making space photography easier. It had also brought that looming danger to his attention, both then and now. The idea that they were out there, still progressing on their silent march through the solar system, made him uneasy and antsy. He was usually good at waiting, but when it came to this... sometimes the waiting got to him.
"Better check the probes' progress," he muttered to himself. He raised his voice. "Deke, initialize ping for probe location."
"Probe! Oh, probe! Where are you probe? Pinging now." Deke's sing-song voice was accompanied by a laser beam arcing out into space, looking for the group of three dozen spherical probes that had been launched from Thunderbird Five weeks ago. John rolled his eyes; sometimes the new AI system - a copy of one used at Tracy Ventures headquarters, and named for the Mercury program's Deke Slayton - got on his nerves.
"Got us a ping, boss." The laser bounced off the first sphere, accepting data on the probe's whereabouts, then pinged the others, and on its return, gave the AI the information it sought. "Calculating location fix now."
John glanced up at the ceiling where he knew Deke's speakers were located. "Well?"
A chart came up on the main computer screen, the new location plotted on it. "Still a few weeks out, Boss."
Shaking his head, John said, "The cameras won't be of any use just yet... if they're of any use at all." He huffed out a breath, a quiet sound of frustration. "The only real way to do this is pay a visit, but Dad won't authorize that. Not yet. Though it looks like Tellus Prime may be raising the ante - Penny thinks they were ultimately behind the whole explosive bracelet, plutonium store business - even though they'd have poisoned the ecosystem for miles around with the radioactive release." He shook his head. "If it was their work... man, are they stupid!"
With another sigh, he rolled his shoulders, then got up to stretch. His hands reached for the ceiling, pressing flat against it. "It's time for a break." Before heading to the galley on the floor below, he took a last thoughtful look at the article he had been reading.
"Deke, do a search and collate on the astronomers listed in this article, then forward it on to Dad... and Lady Penelope, too. I have a feeling that I know why these people have been targeted. Maybe they can figure out who's doing the targeting."
"Gotcha, boss. I'm on it."
Rolling his eyes upward as if in supplication, then shrugging slightly, John made his way to the lift, muttering as he descended, "I suppose it's better than talking to myself, but man, couldn't Brains have programmed a female AI?"