Zimmerman's Algorithm

3.07 Fri. Mar. 26

WITHIN minutes after Rayburn's approval, three Sikorsky Blackhawks escorted by a pair of Cobra gunships lifted off from Hanscomb Air Force Base outside of Boston. The Blackhawks carried two units of special forces, experts in domestic counter-terrorism. The units on those helicopters bore orders that came directly from President Rayburn by way of General Harris of the Joint Chiefs.

They flew over rural Pennsylvania, crossing into New York north of Scranton.

It was seventy-five minutes since the chaos had begun.

D'Arcy strode over to Zimmerman, leaving Volynskji by the door in a posture that suggested that he'd shoot anyone who came near the exit.

"This project is my concern, Dr. Zimmerman." D'Arcy walked around the cubicles, staring at the screens, as if he was trying to make sense of what was displayed.

The guards by Gideon and Ruth took a few steps forward, as if sensing a problem. Gideon wanted to keep talking to Ruth about what her sister was actually doing, but it seemed that they might only have a few moments' worth of distraction. He took the opportunity to stand; no one seemed to notice him. He took Ruth's arm and pulled her up after him.

"This is supposed to be an isolated, secure operation," D'Arcy said. "All contact outside is supposed to be controlled. We can't have anyone detecting the uplink—"

Julia was typing madly now, watching the screen in front of her. She called out, "I want all our traffic shut down. Let the Daedalus have the uplink."

Suddenly, Julia was the only one typing. All the others stood by, watching their screens. "What are you doing?" D'Arcy asked.

"He needs the uplink to complete Himself," Julia said. "We're here to piece the entity together. That's what we're doing." She stopped typing and stared at the screen in front of her.

Gideon couldn't see what she was watching. The screen was angled away from him, and he was edging himself and Ruth back toward the private office. Their guards didn't notice. They were slowly approaching Julia and her terminal.

Julia wasn't paying attention to them, or much of anything other than the screen in front of her.

D'Arcy shook his head. "We can't permit unsecured use of the uplink. We'll have to shut this thing down . . ."

"Perfect," Julia muttered. "Perfect."

D'Arcy shoved one of the others away from the terminal he was manning and said, "How do you shut off the uplink from here?"

From behind D'Arcy, Mike Gribaldi said, "You don't."

D'Arcy turned on Mike and said, "What the hell do you mean, 'You don't?'"

Gideon had pulled Ruth all the way to the door of Julia's office. Ruth tried the door. It was unlocked and opened easily.

"The whole uplink is run from the Daedalus."

"So?"

"We don't have control of the Daedalus now. Aleph does."

Everyone, except for Julia, looked over at the end of the barn where the Daedalus sat.

Gideon and Ruth slipped into the office. Gideon looked at Ruth and asked, "What's going on?"

"D'Arcy doesn't understand what Julie is doing here."

"You said that—"

"Julie believes that Aleph will control everything now," Ruth said. "D'Arcy thinks of it as just an elaborate computer program."

Gideon nodded and knelt down. He felt around the floor of the office. Like the rest of this half of the barn, the floor here had been raised above the dirt floor of the barn so cables could be run underneath. Gideon felt until he found a panel he could move. "And Julia believes it's more than that."

Ruth knelt next to him and helped him with the panel.

Gideon began to understand what Aleph might mean for Julia. They had created this being out of the pure mathematical world that Julia worshiped. It was an entity wholly of that world. So, to Julia's point of view, it was always there, somewhere, since the -human mind couldn't invent mathematical entities, only discover them. If the universe was an objectified form of some mathematical object, then Aleph, by definition, would predate the universe. Aleph would perceive directly, and be wholly of, a world Julia thought of as divine.

God? Gideon thought. Damn close in Julia’s theology.

Between the two of them they worried the panel loose and saw about two feet below, down to the dirt. "Get moving. I don't know how long they're going to be distracted."

Gideon helped Ruth down first, then followed her into the darkness below.

The space under the platform was cramped, and seemed to magnify the pains in his leg. He whispered to Ruth, "Follow the cables in front of us. Some should go to the wall and the uplink."

"Do we know what the hell we're doing?"

Gideon was honest. "No." He carefully replaced the floor panel above him, plunging the two of them into near pitch-darkness. Two bright spots seen through the shadows were the only break in the dark. One was behind them, which led to the central area where the generators sat on a dirt floor.

The other end was much dimmer than the leaking florescent light of the barn, that was where they needed to go. "That way," Gideon whispered, "Straight ahead and to your left."

Ruth grunted, and he heard her crawl forward. In moments her body blocked out the dim glow of their destination. Gideon forced himself forward, following his sense of Ruth's presence. He could barely hear what was going on above him, muffled voices and footsteps, nothing intelligible. The flooring above him made good soundproofing.

It seemed as if they crawled for hours before Ruth whispered back, "The floor's gone."

It was a little brighter here, now that Gideon's eyes had adjusted. He crawled up next to Ruth and looked at what she was talking about.

She was right, the floor—the raised platform above them—stopped about six feet shy of the far wall. Gideon could see the cables snaking across the dirt floor toward a door that had the lower twelve inches sawn out of its bottom to accommodate them. It had to be the door to what was left of the adjoining shed where the uplink was.

There were three Kalishnikov-wielding guards there. Two were making their way through to the uplink, while one remained at the door.

Gideon could hear D'Arcy saying something about shutting off the uplink manually. Gideon could hear people milling around above him, Mike Gribaldi and the other computer scientists were watching their keepers trying to shut down their project.

No one moved forward to stop the guards making for the uplink. Then Gideon heard D'Arcy say, "Where are Malcolm and the woman? Find them!"

Gideon knew that there'd be little question about where the two of them went. There was only one place they could have gone. As if in response to his fear, a light burst into the space under the floor, throwing their shadows on the wall in front of them. Someone was lifting up the floor panels and shining a flashlight toward them.

Six feet. It seemed endless.

He didn't have much of a choice.

The one guard was left behind at the door. He was still focusing on the crowd facing him, straining to see the commotion beyond the people looking at him. He carried his rifle loosely in his hands, the barrel pointed away from Gideon.

Gideon took the opportunity to roll out into the dirt no-man's land between the raised floor and the barn wall. He chose a time when the guard wasn't looking quite in his direction. Gideon pushed himself to his feet, next to the guard, just as the guard was turning to see the disturbance. Gideon was in a half crouch next to the guard and brought his fist up into the man's groin.

The guard's eyes widened, and his cheeks puffed out with an exhaled breath. He still raised the Kalishnikov to bring the butt down on Gideon's head. Gideon dove up, under the blow. The stock slammed into his left shoulder as he grappled the man's waist. There was a flare of pain that paralyzed his left arm as they both slammed into the doorframe.

Gideon slammed his right fist into the man's kidney as he tried to force his legs to push himself fully upright. There was yelling from the spectators, and Gideon could hear movement from beyond the door next to him.

The stock came down again, this time on his back with an impact that felt as if it should crack his spine. The guard said nothing, his voice was coming out as inarticulate, painful grunts. He sounded a lot like Gideon felt at the moment.

Gideon brought up his forearm as he finally got to his feet and slammed it across the guard's neck. For a moment they were face-to-face, and Gideon stared into the guard's wide eyes, and his breath came out in a strangled gasp.

The guard finally let go of the rifle to grab Gideon and push him away. The maneuver was effective, Gideon stumbled on his weakened leg and fell backward. His breath was blown out of him as he fell across the cables that snaked under the door.

The guard folded forward and, gasping, jumped down on Gideon. Gideon grabbed for the man's face, and the guard grabbed for Gideon's neck. Gideon tore into the man's cheek ineffectively as the guard put crushing pressure on his trachea.

Gideon could feel the side of the door slamming into both of them. They had fallen across the entrance, and the other two guards outside were trying to get back in.

Gideon gasped for breath, feeling light-headed, when the stock of the Kalishnikov came down on the back of the guard's head. The guard's grip loosened, and he turned toward the direction of the blow, a stunned expression on his face. Then the stock came again, swinging like a baseball bat across the man's face.

Blood spattered Gideon from a smashed nose and a busted lip as the guard tumbled off him, falling into the small space between him and the door. The two guards outside were still trying to push the door open against the dead weight.

Gideon scrambled to his feet and saw Ruth standing next to him, holding the guard's Kalishnikov. As soon as he was upright, she pushed the gun into his hands. From her expression, he didn't know if it was distaste, or if she just didn't know how to use the thing.

He backed up, hunting maniacally for the safety. He found two switches, and he hit both of them. The crowd of spectators were backing up, and the guards deeper inside the barn had realized that there was something wrong by the uplink.

Gideon edged along the rear wall, facing where the shed door would open. He motioned Ruth with his head; she needed to get away from him. He hoped that he could provide enough of a distraction that she could get away, or at least hide back under the floor. God only knew what was going to happen in the next minute or so.

The door pushed open, one of the guards leading with his shoulder through the doorway. Gideon was prepared this time, and he brought the stock up to connect with the man's chin. Between Gideon's swing, and the guard's momentum, the impact was enough to drop him.

Behind him, Gideon heard a commotion. He didn't need to see what was happening to realize what the sound was. The other guards were pushing through the onlookers who crowded the end of the barn.

Gideon stepped over the two fallen guards, bringing the rifle barrel to bear on the last guard, outside.

Gideon was through the door, and he didn't see anyone. All he saw was the purple sky, a plain of blue, moonlit snow, and the blocky form of the uplink antenna.

Instinct made him dive for the cover of the antenna before he even heard the gunfire. The smell of cordite and superheated metal washed over him as pieces of the uplink sprayed over him, bullets slamming into a mechanism that seemed much too small now.

Gideon faced a quandary now. The guard was at the edge of the barn, and he couldn't return fire without risking a bullet through the wall where it could take out one of the scientists, or Ruth.

The guard didn't keep firing steadily. He was a pro, conserving ammunition, only allowing the occasional bark of some covering fire to keep Gideon pinned down.

Gideon moved slowly around the uplink antenna, putting it between him and the whole barn. He did it in time; he heard the door open and more guards spill out. Gideon turned around and fired the Kalishnikov into the roof, hoping to keep them from moving forward, trying to flank him. The butt of the weapon pressed into his shoulder, igniting the ache of his freshly healed arm.

Someone's voice called to him. Gideon recognized it as Volynskji. "What the fuck are you trying to do here, Malcolm? Toss the gun out."

Gideon looked madly around, watching for guards trying to circle him. He had cover from the barn, but this shed was open to the whole outdoors. He was exposed on every side. The only cover between him and the rest of the world was a pair of flimsy two-by-fours.

Volynskji called again. "This is crazy. You know that we have people surrounding this property. There's no way you can make it out of here. Toss the gun out."

Gideon stared at the two-by-fours holding up the shed's roof. The roof was old, half-rotten, and ran the length of this side of the barn. Moonlight was streaming in the bullet holes he had made in the wood above.

Gideon had a crazy idea.

He braced the weapon better this time as he aimed the gun at the juncture where one of the two-by-fours met the roof. Volynskji was starting to say something again, but his voice was drowned out by the jackhammer of the Kalishnikov firing on full auto. Two of a half-dozen shots splintered the top of the roof's support. Gideon didn't stop firing, he just swung the rifle across to another support. Three bullets clipped it before the Kalishnikov was emptied.

When the firing was over, his ear were numbed, but he could still hear the snap as the first two-by-four went, then the air was filled with the sound of splintering wood.

Gideon threw himself on the ground, tossing away the empty rifle and rolling away from the uplink. The roof of the shed bowed, and then collapsed, its weight too much for the remaining two-by-fours.

Gideon rolled just far enough to clear the roof as it crashed down on the uplink and—more importantly—the guards. When the wood slammed down behind him, Gideon got to his feet and started

running. He needed to find some cover, fast. He felt as if he wore a target on his back as he ran unevenly through the carpet of snow.

Volynskji was right. There was no way for him to get off the property with the way they had this place guarded. He was thinking furiously. First off, he needed cover.

He had two possible destinations. There was the old Victorian house, and sitting in the pasture adjoining the barn there was the shadowy form of a helicopter.

Gideon jumped the rail fence and started running as best as he could to the helicopter. He had no illusions about flying the thing, but it would have a radio on board. He could contact someone outside this place. At this point it didn't matter if it was the CIA, the Highway Patrol, or the Coast Guard. He needed to get word to someone so D'Arcy couldn't summarily disappear this whole operation, him, Ruth—and Julia for that matter.

He was halfway there when he heard the bark of a Kalishnikov behind him. He half-dove, half-tripped over something in the snow. The snow cushioned his fall as his ankle twisted on something half-buried.

The Kalishnikov barked a few more times, but the shots didn't come near him. Gideon wiped the snow out of his face and had to bend to untangle his foot. That was when he saw what had tripped him. His foot was caught in the shoulder strap of another Kalishnikov.

Gideon felt a cold that didn't seem completely from the snow. He half-kicked, half-pulled the Kalishnikov loose from his foot and looked around from his prone position. He couldn't see very far, but he could see a mound in the snow, about two yards from him. The snow there seemed darker, black in the moonlight. Gideon got on his stomach and moved toward it until he could make out the corpse's glassy eyes staring out at him.

The man's throat had been blown apart by a gunshot wound.

Gideon looked around and saw footprints in the snow. One set walked around the helicopter a number of times, ending at the corpse. The other set led straight from a corner of the helicopter to where the body lay, and Gideon thought he could see the tracks leading back toward the woods.

"Shit," Gideon whispered. He realized that he didn't need to get the call out to the CIA anymore.

They were already here.

He looked up at the helicopter, barely ten yards away from him, and he noticed a set of shadowy lumps that marred the smooth lines of the helicopter's silhouette. They were rectangular, bricklike forms, that clung to vital sections of the helicopter's anatomy.

Gideon's gut froze for a moment, then he rolled behind the only cover that existed out here—the corpse.

He lay there, his arms over his head, and his face buried in the ground, long enough that he began to suspect that he was wrong.

He wasn't.

Volynskji had led the way, pushing aside the debris of the collapsed roof and leading four of his men, all the ones immediately available from the barn. Once they were clear of the wreckage, they started toward the pasture where he could see Gideon running toward D'Arcy's helicopter.

Volynskji shouldered his weapon and fired a burst, aiming to clear the helicopter. Gideon dropped into the snow.

Volynskji smiled. That was it, they had him now. He was prone, unarmed, in an open field. All they had to do was close on him. He directed the other men to circle around so they would cut off all the lines of escape.

"Bastard must have the balls of a bull elephant to try and pull this off," Volynskji muttered to himself.

They'd taken a few steps into the pasture, and Volynskji realized there was something wrong. The guard on the helicopter should have made an appearance. At first Volynskji had thought that the man had been on the far side of the helicopter, but he couldn't have been oblivious to the gunshots this long.

Volynskji hoped that the man had decided to abandon his post to take a leak amidst the trees. But that hope was fading as they closed on the helicopter and Gideon.

Volynskji could see a lump in the snow that had to be Gideon. That one was Gideon because he was still moving. Volynskji had a fear that the lump next to him was the guard posted to the helicopter.

Then, with little warning, Gideon moved, putting the guard's body between him and the helicopter. It took a moment for the significance of the act to sink in. Volynskji yelled at everyone, "Take cover!"