The Gods We Make

  Contents

  Prologue

  RIVAL TRIBES

  He Who Has the Power

  China

  A Pivotal Conversation

  The Shepherd's Call

  JUPITER CALLING

  Machinations

  Patriots and Spies

  Changes

  Adaptations

  Job Insecurity

  Florida

  Into the Dawn

  Space is a Dangerous Place

  Safe Shores

  A TRACE OF ANGELS

  Ultimatum

  Spy Games

  Engaging the Enemy

  Time's Up

  Homeward

  A Demon Cometh

  Get More

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  Somewhere in the cosmos, two voices conversed.

  “They are returning to Earth,” Anael said.

  “Are you certain?” Sariel asked. “It has only been three millennia.”

  “The signs are there.”

  “Are the humans able to withstand them?”

  “No.”

  RIVAL TRIBES

  Information Intercept

  “Yeeee-hawwww!”

  Musa Malik about jumped out of his space suit. “Dylan, what the hell?”

  Dylan Lockwood twisted around in the cramped space capsule and slapped Musa on the back. “Musa, you got to relax. You’re ‘bout as calm as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” He studied Musa, a patient half-smile on his weathered face. “Look, we practiced this a hundred times. It’s just another simulation, son.” Unless this prototype optical cloak fails. Tough mission to test it on.

  Musa glanced at Dylan, then down at the Earth, twenty-two thousand two hundred and thirty-six miles below. Geosynchronous orbit. The whole planet was visible at once, filling the port side of their panoramic viewport. Indonesia, half-covered by the leading edge of the unseasonal Typhoon Nida, swirled below. “Sure thing, Commander. Just like in the simulator.” Quieter, Musa added, “Of course, the simulator doesn’t blow us up if we fail.”

  “We’ll be fine.” Dylan followed Musa’s gaze out the broad window and regarded half the planet spread out below. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Commander?”

  “Earth. She’s beautiful.” He scratched a raised, jagged scar on his right temple. “She’s a blue-green gem on a pitch-black canvas, with diamond dust sprinkled all around.” He returned his focus to the mission. “She’s our delicate little gem, among billions of worlds. Hard to believe there are so many people down there struggling to get ahead, quarreling over imaginary borders, competing for resources.” He adjusted the ship’s trajectory. “All that fighting seems petty from up here.”

  “Yes, sir.” Musa shifted in his seat, his wide shoulders almost touching the vessel’s starboard wall. “When did you get so philosophical?”

  “Never mind my ramblings.” Dylan tapped the curvilinear glass instrument panel that wrapped centimeters over his knees. The vessel was so cramped the controls touched his abdomen. It was so new the burnt iron odor of 3D printed panels still lingered in the cockpit. “Approaching the objective.” He monitored a hologram projected above the panel with the quiet intensity of a veteran pilot. The image displayed their position above the Earth with a solid line representing their trajectory and a dashed one their target orbit. The trajectory line turned green. “Now. Deploying the tether.”

  A two-kilometer loop of hair-thin carbon nanotube released from the craft’s tail. An electric current flowing through it interacted with the Earth’s magnetic force, tugging on their ship as if an unseen hand pinched on it, slowing their orbit.

  “I’ve powered the tether,” Dylan said. “Now, we wait.”

  Musa’s complexion was pale. He stared straight ahead, eyes narrowed.

  “Do you like to ride?” Dylan asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Horses. You should come by the ranch this weekend. Get in some R&R. We’re taking the horses out, maybe get in some fishing.”

  “Horses?” Musa adjusted the cuff of his snug pressure suit. “I haven’t ridden since I was a teenager.”

  “It’ll be fun. Ian’s coming too, and Roy will be out on Sunday.”

  A faint ping sounded, and a green status line appeared on a holographic display.

  “There we go, orbits matched.” Dylan raised a hand to shield glare from the brilliant sun cresting Earth’s atmosphere. “Look, there she is. You can see a glint off one of her solar panels.” He pointed to a small satellite five hundred meters ahead. “Here’s hoping she hasn’t spotted us.” Their ship drifted another fifty meters toward the Chinese satellite. “That’s close enough, wouldn’t you say?” Dylan tapped a spot on the display. The ship’s computer briefly energized the tether until the motion to the target read zero then powered off.

  “We’re still here.” Musa wiped his brow. “I guess they didn’t detect us.”

  “This far out, our electromagnetic stealth will work fine. Keep an eye on the optical cloak’s calibration.”

  “Sure, I’ll keep an eye on the TV NASA strapped to our nose.” Musa smiled, lips pressed tight.

  “TV?” Dylan grinned. “You mean the Wide Spectrum Photon Emission Rig.” The W.S.P.E.R attached to the front of their ship took a video of space behind them and projected it in front, making it disappear from visible and near-infrared light. In theory, at least.

  Musa poked Dylan with an elbow. “It’s a TV. I can play a movie on it.”

  “Right. Don’t run your playlist through it quite yet.” Dylan laughed. “Let’s get to work now.”

  The fingers of Musa’s left hand danced over a raised, rounded glass surface on the control panel. “I’m looking for a landing spot far from anything that might be a sensor. Here we go. Swarm released.”

  Hundreds of thousands of mBots, machines the size of bacteria with nano-tech components, rode a laser beam toward the Chinese satellite. They impacted the hull and crawled along its metal skin to a designated spot.

  “Let’s hope they don’t detect the laser,” Musa whispered.

  “This is a spaceship, not a submarine,” Dylan bellowed. “They can’t hear you talking through the vacuum of space.”

  “Sir, if you don’t mind, I prefer to whisper.” Musa was deadpan.

  Dylan punched him in the arm, as hard as he could in the cramped, weightless space.

  “OK, OK.” Musa laughed while rubbing the impact spot. “Contact in thirty seconds,” he said in a deep, booming voice. Fine droplets of sweat beaded on his temple. “I’m sorry by the way.”

  “Sorry? For what?”

  “The Mulukhiyah. I had it for lunch.” Musa looked rueful.

  “It’s OK, I had an extra-large bean-and-cheese burrito,” Dylan said.

  “We’re doomed.” Musa chuckled softly. He beamed commands to the mBot swarm, a few taps on a flat glass panel selecting a specialized group, which he instructed to crawl to a precise spot. One after another, like a hundred thousand microscopic ants invading a picnic, each released a miniature payload of hydrofluoric acid. Collectively, they dissolved a minuscule hole. Each spent mBot, no longer able to grip the surface, drifted into space.

  Satellites are constantly bombarded by micrometeorites and debris. Most have a self-sealing layer, and this one was no exception. The second wave of mBots forged a path through that sealant, re-purposing themselves into scaffolding, built up from carbon nanotubes, to hold open a hair-thin tunnel.

  Musa glanced at the mission timer, small red numbers floating above the control surface. “We should be through.” His neck was sweating, moisture pooling around each pore in his skin. His breathing grew quicker, deeper. The sickly-sweet odor of garlic and
coriander supplanted the cabin’s usual, sterile smell. He tensed and started to pour over the sensor readouts.

  “What is it Musa?”

  “It’s-” Musa’s breathing froze.

  “Warning!” the ship’s AI said. “Active radar detected.”

  Musa’s complexion faded to a sickly gray. “They know we’re here.” His fingers flew over a small, bright-red sphere on the panel. The cabin darkened. Minimal power mode. A brief signal through the laser commanded the mBots to fall still, then the ship powered down, save for the optical cloak out front.

  This is what? His fifth clandestine mission? I need to calm him. “They might suspect we’re here, but they don’t know we are,” Dylan said.

  “How’s that?” Musa’s voice wavered.

  “We’re still here, aren’t we? They didn’t blow the satellite.” Dylan squinted out the viewport. “Still, something put that thing in a high state of alert. We best be mindful of how we proceed. And Musa?”

  “Huh?”

  “Don’t forget to breathe. Turns out, the body works better that way.”

  “Breathe. Right.” Musa tittered. “I’ll let the mBots continue, but I’ll keep the navigation and environmental systems turned off for now.”

  Dylan winked. “I’ll try not to use all the air.”

  “It’s OK, the air in here will last for-” Musa said. “Oh, you know that.” He pushed a heavy puff through his lips. “I know, I know. Breathe. Relax.” Musa inhaled through his nose until his stout chest seemed ready to burst, held the air for a moment, and let it gently escape. “The Chinese radar is off again. I’m sending in the scanners.”

  The next group of mBots was designed to survey computer circuitry. Quantum dot arrays captured an optical image of the target, while electromagnetic sensors traced circuit pathways. Ten thousand scanners entered the pin-sized hole the initial waves had forged. They mapped the interior of the craft, each tackling a small portion then returning to the surface.

  “Are you going to Ian’s poker game tonight?” Dylan asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Poker. It’s a game you play with cards.”

  Musa broke his gaze away from the monitors and managed a smile. “I need my paycheck this month.”

  “Ian’s good. I’ll give him that.” Dylan folded his arms over his chest. “Still, it is Texas Hold’em. It wouldn’t seem right for me to skip out on that.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “You should come. Spend some time with the boys. Anyhow, Ian’s luck is bound to run out soon.”

  Musa glanced at the instrumentation. “Time to bring the mBots home.” A Bessel beam tractored the scanning mBots back as they emerged from the hole. Musa combined data from each probe to create a holographic reconstruction of the Chinese satellite’s circuitry. Details filled in as more mBots returned with their readings. “Gods of Egypt, aid me,” he said in an overly-dramatic voice. Three holographic torsos formed over the control panel. The leftmost appeared as an upright lioness, its body with distinctly human curves. In the center was an asp, eyes serpentine but eyebrows arched to lend it an air of wisdom. The third image was of a dark-skinned child.

  A laugh exploded from Dylan. “What… what in the Sam Hill is that?”

  Musa flashed a row of bright white teeth. “You like it? I thought it would be fun to spice up the AI agents.”

  “NASA let you do that?”

  “It’s only a personality template. It doesn’t change the software.”

  Dylan clapped Musa on the shoulder, still laughing. “Wonderful. Please, proceed.”

  “Bastet,” Musa said, addressing the lioness, “can you identify an unencrypted pathway in the circuitry?”

  “No,” she answered in a baritone, male voice. “Data is not modified between the laser receiving array and any of the retransmission points.”

  Dylan chortled.

  “I didn’t have time to update the voice profile,” Musa said with a shrug. He inspected the reproduction of the satellite electronics, panning and zooming the image.

  “Shed,” Musa said, speaking to the holographic child, “search for entropy in the data pathways.”

  “Monitoring.” The child’s voice was too old, but it was of the appropriate gender.

  “Mehen, any sign of anti-intrusion measures?”

  The serpent’s tongue darted out before replying. “Power level fluctuations are in the expected range. No active scanning detected. No visual change in the subject.”

  “If I may,” Bastet said, “the circuit portion I’m highlighting is almost identical to a Chinese design on file. Its purpose is encryption key propagation.”

  Musa zoomed in on the portion highlighted by his AI assistant. He scrutinized it, referencing several NSA files on Chinese circuitry.

  “Well, Musa? What’s your analysis? Can we hijack this puppy?”

  “Hold on. Yes, it seems we can.” Musa overlaid a hacking strategy on the hologram and validated it with his AI counterparts. “Got it!” He stifled a satisfied chuckle. “I guess they didn’t count on someone driving up to their satellite and inserting a man-in-the-middle attack.”

  “Man-in-the-middle?” Dylan asked. Hacking was entirely foreign to him.

  “For Chinese stations to communicate with each other, they use a form of encryption where each keeps a secret, private key and broadcasts a public key to distant stations. The other party can encrypt data with that public key, but only the holder of the private key can decrypt it.”

  Dylan’s eyes glazed over.

  “It turns out,” Musa continued, “we can reprogram one of the satellite’s chips to void the encryption key and control the generation of its replacement.”

  Dylan scratched his neck. “So, we pick a new key and make them use it?”

  Musa smiled. “Yep.” With Shed’s help, he programmed the fourth and final swarm to alter the satellite’s cryptosystem. Chinese text appeared on a display panel.

  “Lookie there!” Dylan said. “Throw it through the translator.”

  “We’re not supposed to. That’s the NSA’s job.” Musa rubbed his eyebrow.

  “Who’s going to know?” Dylan wore a sly half-smile. “I won’t tell Ms. Wells if you don’t.” She sure as hell won’t tell us anything, so fair’s fair.

  Musa inhaled, nostrils flaring. He breathed out evenly through his mouth and slid his finger over the rounded glass control surface. An English translation appeared.

  “Diplomatic communications,” Dylan said. “The folks at the NSA will be more than a little pleased.” He leaned back as best he could in the cramped seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, now,” he said, “let’s back out of here real slow.” He powered the tether. The X-314 lost altitude as the nanotube loop tugged on the Earth’s magnetic field, inching the ship toward the safety of the planet.

  “Do you think we’ll ever catch up with the Chinese?” Dylan stroked his scar again.

  “It’s the whole reason we’re on this mission, instead of exploring Mars or the asteroid belt. To get an edge. To close the gap.”

  “Musa, I wouldn’t strap my butt to eighty thousand gallons of fuel and oxidizer and light the kit and caboodle on fire unless I thought there was a damn good reason to be up here. It just seems, every step we take, the Chinese take three. I’m surprised we were able to pull this mission off without being detected.” Dylan stared out the viewport, down at the South China Sea. Deep regret saddled him, weighed on his soul. Come now, Dylan. Shake it off. He looked up from the ocean and turned to Musa. “So, who gets to land today?”

  The men locked eyes, balled their right fists, and brought them down in unison. “Rock, scissors, paper,” they said together. Dylan’s paper covered Musa’s rock.

  “Man, how do you win so often?”

  Dylan winked. “Skill, Musa. Skill.”

  Musa frowned and shook his head in disbelief.

  “What say we grab steaks before the poker game?” Dylan said. “I’m buying.”
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  Deputy Director Sara Wells strode into the National Security Agency’s sprawling cafeteria. The agency’s highest-ranking civilian’s presence would ordinarily cause a hush to fall over the room. Sara’s tenure was different.

  “Good afternoon, Deputy Director,” an analyst said when their paths crossed.

  A thirty-something man wearing a white dress shirt and sleeveless vest smiled and waved from the table he alone occupied.

  Sara smiled back. A mathematician. Charles something, she recalled. It would be nice to keep him company once, or to dine with other colleagues. Inappropriate. Unfortunately, that would be inappropriate. If only-

  “Sara? Sara Wells?”

  Sara’s eyes scanned a sea of faces for the source of the voice. They settled on a copper-haired man with sharp features just inside the glass-and-aluminum entrance. He stood next to a mostly-functioning hologram of the lunch menu, waving a half-extended arm. Sara rested her hands on her hips and took in his features. Handsome, in a geeky way. He was smiling, yet his body was tense. She walked toward him, her pace measured. Three steps away, she pulled her lips into her trademark smile. “Jake. Jake…?”

  “Hayden,” he offered, a little too hastily she thought. “We met two weeks ago. At that retirement party.”

  “Oh yes. Jake Hayden. The guy who thinks chocolate milk is a health drink.”

  Jake’s mouth froze. His gaze shifted down and to the side. Eyes still lowered, he muttered, “Yeah, that was me.” His lips twisted into a tight smile. “Anyway, just wanted to say hi.” He began to turn away.

  That joke backfired. “Jake,” Sara said, just loud enough for his ears. “I enjoyed talking to you at the party.” In her normal tone, she said, “Your insights about quantum computing are fascinating. And I’m sure that chocolate protein thing was perfectly healthy. I’m more of a ginger-kale gal.” He’s an outside contractor, on temporary assignment from one of the big defense firms. Outside my chain of command. Sara clenched her jaw. We can have lunch without messing with protocol.

  Jake’s jaw fell open a sliver. He started to speak, but no words came out.

  “Hey, did you eat yet? I was about to grab a bite.”