Warp speed

CHAPTER 15

We landed a few hours later. Where, I have no idea. When we debarked the plane we were inside a very large hangar. There were other aircraft and vehicles inside the hangar, so it was a big place—wherever it was. I tried to be useful, but I was beginning to feel very tired and sore.

Jim had never left 'Becca's side throughout the flight. She seemed to have had no changes, good or bad. We all had hopes that there was something, anything that we could do for her. I hoped that the crazy quacks had just not been smart enough to figure out what was wrong with her and it was still a straightforward medical issue. I hoped so, anyway.

As we debarked I followed the group in a daze. We entered an elevator, a large elevator, and descended for what seemed like a full minute or two. The elevator doors opened into a large bright room. The wall directly to the right had a large red "Floor 31" painted on it. I did later find out where we were, but the location was classified even higher up than I realized existed. I was beginning to learn that there were many more levels of "Top Secret" than just the ones I had experience with.

"Anson, are you okay?" Sara asked as she approached the group.

"I'm . . . just a little tired." I would live for now I told myself. I was trying to focus on my breathing, but since I'd had the damage to one of my lungs, breathing was more labor intensive. Just sitting still seemed like work. It reminded me of a comic book character I used to read a lot of. This guy had some sort of "techno-organic virus" that there was no cure for, but fortunately he had superpowers. He used his superpowers constantly to hold the virus at bay, yet he was still one of the most powerful superheroes in his universe. His friends would always mention that he was so powerful while fighting the virus that they couldn't imagine his strength if he were cured.

Well, I don't have superpowers. I wish I did. And I'm definitely not one of the most powerful people in my universe. I was tired and in pain.

"You just look a little pale is all." Sara laid her hand on my shoulder.

"I agree with you, Sara. He could use some sun. And maybe a haircut. At the very least run a comb through that unruly mop," Anne Marie added as she approached.

"Annie! How are you? It's good to see you." Seeing my future stepdaughter bolstered my morale a bit. It felt as though I were given a jolt of caffeine and epinephrine all at once.

"From the looks of it," she said, "a helluva lot better than you."

"Have you seen Tabitha?" I asked.

"Just for a sec. She's really busy right now. You know, saving the world and everything." Anne Marie laughed and patted me on the back as she gave me a hug. "It's good to see you, Anson." She looked into my eyes and smiled. "Did you force her to pick a date yet?"

I was confused at first. "A date for wha— Oh, when did she tell you?" We had only been groundside a day or two before all hell broke loose again. It is hard to believe Tabitha had much time to chat with her daughter.

"Mom always calls me immediately, or as soon as possible, after each mission. You guys had me real worried on this one. She says you saved her life, twice."

"She's just modest. It was a team effort, both times. She is too much of a handful for one person to save." I laughed and felt a twinge of pain in my chest. I grimaced at it but it soon went away.

Several days had passed and we settled into the underground Air Force facility—wherever it was. Tabitha made sure that we all had the bare necessities available to us and the facility seemed nearly endless. I was feeling much better, although we still were no closer to helping 'Becca or finding the identity and purpose of our attackers. Jim and Sara had conducted several experiments on 'Becca's invader and had concluded that the attached dumbbells were indeed Casimir-effect type devices. Or at least they had been at one time in their lives. Why they hadn't gone chaotic yet was a mystery. Perhaps the attached influenza virus was responsible for that, or perhaps being suspended in a liquid matrix that allowed them to align themselves to each other had something to do with it. I don't know for sure. Could've been just plain dumb luck. Sara had suggested that we try the simple electric discharge method on a small sample of 'Becca's blood. Why not? It had worked on all previous configurations of the dumbbells that we'd seen.

So, we took a sample of Rebecca's blood and prepared to electrocute it in the same manner we had used on a macro level, before. Sara had run the show at the ECC manufacturing facility back in Huntsville, Alabama, so I let her run the show now. We carried out the process on a very small sample, via robotic remote, on the lowest abandoned level of the facility, which turned out to be an old abandoned mine shaft. For extra safety, we added a solid, steel reinforced concrete wall. Things went well for the first ninety-three nanoseconds. Then the mineshaft was fused together with a fireball explosion from the Casimir effect devices going hypercritical much faster than they had in any previous experiments with the original configurations. These new viruslike dumbbells were much more energetic than the standard Clemons Dumbbells. We obviously couldn't just electrocute 'Becca. We had to be sharper than that. Hard problems are never easy to solve.

Jim and I had the idea of flowing 'Becca's blood through a filter that was electrically polarized in just the right way to attract the dumbbells out of the blood and capture them. The -inspiration came from an old Skylab experiment that astronaut Owen Garriot conducted. Dr. Garriot used some sort of filter, flowloop, and microgravity to remove tumor-causing things from blood. I didn't remember what the tumor-causing things were, but the concept was all I needed for the current inspiration.

We modeled the new "flubells," as Sara had started calling them, and developed a map of their electromagnetic signature. Once that was done, we designed the filter, during about three days of nonstop effort. We were all beginning to get a little edgy and very tired. The long hours and my labored breathing was keeping me from doing my most creative thinking. Jim was really carrying me mentally. We looked to Sara for fresh innovations. Youngsters are good at that.

The idea worked! Well, sort of. It worked well enough that we could keep the virus in check, but, the virus replicated far too fast for us to filter it completely. What this meant was that we could keep 'Becca alive through constant filtration as long as the virus didn't mutate again. It was a simple Malthusian Population differential equation, or a damped forced oscillator in engineering terms. Filtering out the virus as rapidly as we technically could would act as a predator to the virus population. The virus was reproducing at an even rate with its death rate now. Previously it had been unchecked. When I had the energy, which was rare those first few days, I would take Sara to the whiteboard and work through the math with her, making sure she understood it well. Occasionally, one of 'Becca's physicians would join us but he never really seemed to grasp the dynamical systems analogy. He sort of got the population models. Anne Marie also joined us often. She was as sharp as a tack and never got left behind. Then again she hoped to fill her mother's shoes one day, so she had better grow some big-ass feet. She was well on her way.

Testing of 'Becca's blood did reveal some useful information. We found that outside of the blood the virus could be destroyed via an electric discharge without catastrophic circumstances. This at least bought us some time. We could filter the blood and then remove the filters and destroy them with an electric discharge.

Eventually, Tabitha forced Jim and me to go to bed. After the first successful test of the electrostatic filter system, we were both spent anyway. I hoped to get a few hours sleep and get back at it.

During the time we were testing the filter system, Tabitha, Anne Marie (when she wasn't hanging out with me), and Al had been working on a plan for our new homestead. Wherever we were, we still needed creature comforts. It looked like we would have to live in this hole for some time to come. At least until we found out what was going on with these attacks upon us. Obviously, this underground facility was some sort of well-equipped Air Force base. There were research facilities, bunkrooms, office rooms, a lot of abandoned areas, and there was constant regular Air Force staff roaming the halls. It was a big facility. My guess was that it was an old Cold War era base. I was oblivious to the fact, since I was mostly concerned with solving 'Becca's dilemma. However, somebody was taking care of us and doing a tremendous amount of work preparing quarters and gathering supplies for us. We had all arrived with basically what we had on our backs. In the room that Tabitha and I shared was a complete compliment of male and female paraphernalia and wardrobe. For the most part, the clothes were my size and my style, jeans, T-shirts, and sneakers—heck, even the same kind of toothpaste I like was in our cozy bathroom. Tabitha was taking care of us.

As cozy as our accommodations were, we all still would've rather been at home. We couldn't go home until we knew we were safe from our terrorist friends (or whatever they were). A lot of debate continued as to who our attackers had been and why, but, there were no forthcoming answers—even the guy we killed at Al's place had no telltale clues on him. Tabitha reassured all of us that various civilian and military entities were investigating the problem. Perhaps something on the guys we ran into at Al's house or that Tabitha tangled with at the hospital will offer some leads. We hoped that our black bag guys would solve the problem soon. I hoped somebody would take care of Friday. I mentioned this to Annie. She said that Tabitha took care of it. I later found out that all of our parents, extended families, and even our pets were being protected in different locations.

I slept for about twelve hours straight. When I finally stirred, I found that Jim had been back at work for several hours. I guess he just couldn't sleep and worry at the same time. Apparently, I could. Of course, my injuries and pain medication did help with that some. I made a note to myself to wake the hell up, get with it, and do something to help around here.

"How is she, Jim?" I asked him.

"The doctor says 'Becca's improved, whatever that means." Jim had spent the morning discussing possible treatments with the facility physicians. Tabitha and the doctor, Doctor Smith—if you believe that name—continued to talk as I patted Jim's shoulder. Tabitha nodded to me.

I had asked Tabitha the day before, "How can we keep these people at this facility with the possibility of a major explosion at any time? It isn't fair to them."

Tabitha assured me, "They all volunteered, Anson. And besides that, I couldn't force Anne Marie, Al, or Sara away with a thousand wild horses." Then she mumbled something about national security. "Besides, there are most likely other things at this facility that are just as explosive. Erh, well, explosive enough anyway."

"Jim and I were thinking that instead of attacking the dumbbells, perhaps we should go after the flu part," Tabitha changed subjects. Dr. Smith, John Smith, (I get a kick out of that) joined the conversation.

"We could try creating antibodies in a large creature like a horse or perhaps use something like Acyclovir for suppression therapy," he said.

"Acyclovir? Isn't that an old Herpes treatment?" I asked.

"Yes," Dr. Smith explained. "The drug was designed to be the opposite of the viral receptor. It basically attaches to the virus's receptors before it can attach to a cell. Thus it becomes inert and is eventually filtered out by the body's waste disposal system. Let me explain it the way I do to kids. The virus is like the bottom of a Lego block and a cell is like the top of a block. Viruses stick to the cell kinda like the Leggos stick together. Well, Acyclovir was designed to look like the virus end of the block. The hopes with this type of therapy is that if you throw enough of the antiviral blocks into the mix, the virus will stick to them instead of the body's cells. Then your body's own filtration system will take care of it from there."

"Yeah. I remember seeing a television special on it one time. We would have to tailor a drug to the virus's electromagnetic field," Jim said.

"That might work," I thought aloud. "We have the field of the virus mapped."

"But I don't see how we're going to create a pharmaceutical. It took years for the development of most suppression therapy drugs available today." Dr. Smith frowned and shook his head. "A chemical or biological process has to be discovered that will grow just the right shaped drug molecule. That takes years of effort."

I looked at Jim and smiled. "We'll build one from the atom up."

"What?" Dr. Smith looked surprised.

"Of course." Tabitha perked up. She subconsciously pulled the hair down over the scratches on her forehead and added, "We will build the drug molecule just like we built the Clemons Dumbbells. Genius!"

"Exactly," I nodded. "Jim, do you think you could build up a 3D computer model of the apparatus needed to grow the prototypes in a deposition chamber?" I asked.

"Sure Anson. But there're two problems there. One, we have no deposition chamber and two we could only build a few at a time." Jim replied.

"Good point." I turned to Dr. Smith, "How many virus cells are in her now?"

"Are you serious? I have no idea. There must be millions. There's no way to know exactly. At least none that I can think of. And remember, they continue to replicate," Dr. Smith said.

"Yes, yes. But the filtering has stopped further deterioration in her condition, which would lead one to suspect a steady state. This is simple rate equation stuff. Besides, how many grams of antibiotics does one usually take before getting well? Much much less than a kilogram. So let's assume that we need ten kilograms worth of these virus huggers. That amount should be overkill. We just need a facility to grow them."

"Dr. Smith, we made tons of the dumbbells from the atom up in about a year. We just need a manufacturing facility like Anson said." Jim had the gears turning in his head. I could see the look in his eyes. He wandered off into his mind and was designing something brilliant. He did that often. Jim's ability to solve problems on the spot had always amazed me. That was one of the things that interested me in being his advisor. I have to have a whiteboard or I can't think straight.

"Jim. Jim!" I got his attention. "Get to work designing the thing and Tab and I will get the equipment we need here like yesterday. Doc, you make sure she stays alive." He not only kept Rebecca alive, but he also convinced us that we probably only needed a few hundred grams of the virus huggers. I decided we should shoot for a kilogram.

Tabitha and I went back to our makeshift conference area, which was actually a conference area, and began listing materials and components. After a couple of hours, I realized that Anne Marie and Sara were bringing us sandwiches and soft drinks occasionally. About nine hours later, we had a complete list of the parts required to replicate the Huntsville nanotech factory. It's always easier to redo something better than it is to invent it in the first place. I intended that this nanotech lab would have updated gadgets and fixes to the things that we didn't necessarily like in the Huntsville lab. "Well that should do it. Now we just need somebody to acquire all of this stuff," I said.

"Leave it to me, Anson." Tabitha kissed me on the cheek, then she stood up and stretched.

"Some of this equipment is hard to find, Tabitha." I finished off another sandwich and stretched.

"Don't worry about that. I'll put a team of acquisition experts on it. We'll have it if we need it," she stated in a rather matter-of-fact manner that I was learning to be characteristic of Colonel Ames. If Tabitha said she would get something done, then by God it got done. I bet she was a bear to deal with in her teenage hormone years.

A few minutes later, she returned and promised me that we would have all of the components on our list by morning after next at the latest, plus a few more techs to help assemble them. Then she kissed me again.

This time I pulled her to me and kissed her long and deep and slow. I brushed a lock of her red hair out of her face revealing the pink new skin of the healing scratches from the plane crash. I had never thought of her as vulnerable to anything until now. I realized that she must be a little self-conscious of the scratches and bruises. I hoped they wouldn't leave a scar, for her sake; she was beautiful to me no matter what. "Tabitha, have you thought about a date yet?"

"Anson, sweetie, I haven't had time to think of anything personal. In fact, this is one of the first minutes I have taken for myself since we left the hospital. I will get around to it."

"Yeah yeah, Annie said you would be hard-pressed to pick a date. She suggested that I hog tie you and drive you off to the justice of the peace and get it over with." I goosed her ribs. She winced slightly in pain. Her ribs weren't quite well yet, either.

"She did, did she?" Tabitha looked as though she were already plotting vengeance against her daughter. "That little traitor. I'll have to fix her wagon." Tabitha laughed and goosed me back. I winced a bit, as my bullet wounds were just now healing. I swallowed back the pain and smiled. Then we kissed again and again. We decided that we should take a little while for ourselves and covertly made it to our room.

Most of the equipment arrived as planned. The rest arrived the next day, but that's another story. I overheard Colonel Ames dressing down an acquisition sergeant. He was at least a foot taller than her and more than a hundred pounds bigger, and she was scaring the living hell out of him. Me too!

"Ma'am," he said, "that piece of equipment will have to be manufactured. It's a onesy." He told the colonel.

"Did I ask for an excuse?"

"Uh, no, ma'am!"

"Well then. I don't care if you have to find a goddamned rainbow, trek to the end of it, capture a leprechaun, whup his ass and steal his pot of gold, take that pot of gold and buy a magic lamp, and use all three wishes to get that equipment here now. I don't care how, just get it here! I won't take no for an answer. Got it? Get it here!" The latter part was screamed at the top of her lungs into the man's face while she poked a finger in his chest. Although he was a giant of a man, he was shaking like a leaf on a tree in a thunderstorm.

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

The rest of the equipment arrived the next day. It took about four more days for us to assemble and test the nanotech factory and then another week and a half for Jim and me to build the first "flubell hugger." Once we adjusted the prototype to map directly opposite to the electromagnetic signature of the sialic acid receptors of the flubell virus, we then began tweaking of the automated manufacturing process. The process went fast. Our new facility was more efficient than the one that had evolved in our old Huntsville lab. It took some getting used to.

The flubell huggers were much easier to make than the Clemons Dumbbells because there were no moving parts. We were able to manufacture about twenty-three point eight grams per day. That added up to about forty-two days until we had one kilogram. I laughed at that. Perhaps this was the "ultimate question" to Douglas Adams's "ultimate answer." How many days does it take to produce enough flubell huggers to cure 'Becca's disease? The answer: forty-two. I just hoped that 'Becca would hold out that long. Of course, the doctor pointed out that we could start the suppression therapy with the flubell huggers as soon as we had a few tens of grams. So, we gave her the first dose of them at the end of the second day of automated manufacturing. For the first couple of weeks no dramatic changes in her condition were noticed. In fact, I was beginning to lose faith.

"Maybe it's not working," I told Tabitha one night while we were getting ready for bed.

"Don't give up, Anson. And don't you dare say that to anybody else, especially Jim. Everyone is sitting on pins and needles as it is."

"I would never do that. I just feel like there is something else I should be doing," I told her.

"We all feel that way," she said as she turned out the light and crawled into bed next to me.

"Tabitha."

"Yes Anson?"

"I . . . I was thinking about the wedding. Have you considered a date yet?"

"Yeah. How about as soon as 'Becca is well enough to be one of my bridesmaids?"

"Good idea."