Von Neumann’s War

“Hmm.” Roger grunted; he was made a little bit nervous by the fact that Traci knew so much about what they had been doing. Security matters were still important. Roger started pondering a debriefing scheme or cover to lead Traci away from the Neighborhood Watch line of thinking.

“Why’s everybody so glum? You’re at Hooters!” Traci said, bouncing up and down so she jiggled pleasantly. “And check out my hot and spicies if you need a boost! What happen, somebody cut your funding again?”

“No, funding’s not a problem,” Roger said, looking at her thoughtfully, then over at Tom who was also looking… thoughtful. There was, of course, an alternative to creating a story…

“Traci, honey,” Tom said, seriously, stroking his beard and not even bothering to look at his nominal boss, “how far along are you on your masters… ?”

* * *

“Hweet, Gries!” Captain Sparling half whistled, waggling a finger at the major.

Shane hit the close key on the window showing a new and improved tac-net concept, logged off the secure computer systems, then slid his chair across the corridor to the captain’s cubicle. In the last six months he’d tried to keep in shape by running. But his schedule was such that he knew he was getting swivel-chair spread and a beer gut. He had to get out of this racket, somehow.

At the same time, he had to admit it was fascinating. Yeah, most of the ideas he’d had pitched, thrown and hurled at him since joining the DARPA Special Technologies Office had been pie-in-the-sky where they weren’t downright scary in a “if it’s stupid and it gets you killed, it’s stupid” way. But a few of the ideas, like the synthetic gecko stuff and the third generation tac-net he was examining, were pretty damned hot. The faster they got in the hands of the troops, the better, although he was still thinking about the uses for that gecko skin. The problem was settling on just one. He’d figured out a way to use it for sealing troop doors on personnel carriers.

“I hate these things,” Captain Sparling said, waving at his computer. “Sure, they increase productivity. Sure, they make communication easier. But that’s a two-edged sword.”

“Yes, sir?” Shane said, frowning and carefully not looking at the captain’s computer. He’d learned that was a bit of a no-no. The team, given the way that data was compartmentalized, really should have had separate offices. Instead, they just tried not to read over each other’s shoulders. They had been trying to get moved over to the main office in Arlington where there was more room available, but the political nature of this program required them to be stationed at the Pentagon.

“You’re on TDY,” Captain Sparling said, sighing. “Dump everything you’re working on and get packed. You’re going to Huntsville, Alabama. Redstone Arsenal. God knows who’ll be handling what you’re doing now.”

“What’s there now?” Shane asked. He’d been to Huntsville a couple of times in the course of his duties looking at projects. Not in the last month, though; the town had virtually shut down from his perspective.

“Something called ‘Asymmetric Soldier’, ” Sparling replied. “The name is classified Secret and the purpose is Top Secret, Compartmented. And I don’t even have the compartment name. But you are detailed to it ‘for a minimum of ninety days.’ ”

“Crap,” Shane said, sighing. “Well, I guess ours is not to question why… When do I leave?”

* * *

Ret Ball: Aha! Megiddo my friend, where have you been? Did you hear Hiowa Lend’s report last Sunday?

Caller: Yes Ret, I did. And she was absolutely correct.

Ret Ball: How so?

Caller: There is no denying it now. Mars has changed. It has been terraformed by aliens. It’s no longer the Mars we used to know.

Ret Ball: I see.

Caller: It’s only a matter of time before more happens.

Ret Ball: Such as?

Caller: Have you noticed that the Space Telescope Science Institute is no longer posting new images from the Hubble of Mars?

Ret Ball: They aren’t?

Caller: No. In fact it has been nearly a year and a half since any new Martian images have been posted. That is somewhat unusual.

Ret Ball: Really?

Caller: Yes it is. I’m telling you that the CIA has commandeered the Space Telescope Science Institute and corrupted them.

Ret Ball: To what ends, Megiddo?