The Gods We Make Read online

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “Are you allowed to tell me that?”

  “Probably not.” Sara laughed. “Don’t post it online, OK?”

  “Under one condition,” Jake said.

  “Condition?”

  “Coffee. You have time for a coffee. We’ll get you one of those chocolate croissants, too.”

  In response to her gesture, Sara’s holographic display swung back to join her desk, and the executive chair pushed her into a standing position. She walked up to Jake, reached out, touched his elbow. “What a wonderful idea.”

  They strolled together down a long series of halls toward the cafeteria. Sara’s travel bag followed them, a few feet behind. Jake spoke of hobbies and of how he came to join the defense industry. Sara listened, mostly. This is nice. It’s so wonderfully… normal. He’s smart, funny. For some reason, he actually likes me in spite of all the brush-offs.

  The scent of fresh ground coffee punctuated the stale office air. Both looked up from their conversation. It was the mid-afternoon lull, a time when many analysts took a break to caffeinate. Jake and Sara stepped to the end of a long, slow-moving line and continued to talk of their employers, of offbeat colleagues, and of why they decided for their respective careers. Glacially, the line moved forward.

  “Sara, I have this crazy idea. You need a break or you’re going to burn out. Trust me, I know. I once spent seventy-two hours straight…” Jake bit his lip. “We’ll save that story for later. The point is, you need to get out of the office.” He lowered his voice so that only she could hear him. “Give me… Give us an hour when you’re back from your trip.” Jake looked at her, hope shining in his eyes.

  “A date?” Sara asked, her voice lowered. I can’t. Can I?

  “An hour relaxing as friends. It doesn’t have to lead anywhere if you don’t want it to.”

  “What are you thinking?” Sara smiled.

  “Leave that to me,” Jake said. “I promise, it will be fun.” His eyes sparked mischievously. “Do you have any phobias I should be aware of?”

  “Phobias? Should I be worried?”

  “Only if you’re hiding a deep-seated fear.” A grin spread across his face.

  “Next!” the Barista called.

  “That went fast.” Sara was genuinely surprised.

  “Not so much,” Jake said. “Look at the time. I’m afraid you’re running late.”

  “Oh, geez!” How did I lose track of time? I don’t do that. She started for the exit.

  Jake reached out for her shoulder, stilling her with a gentle grip. “Hold on there. You can wait another ninety seconds.”

  Did he really do that? Grab my shoulder? With conscious effort, she fought her first instinct. He’s just being supportive. Sara turned to face him. “Thank you, Jake.” She formed her trademark smile. This time, it came easily.

  Coffee in hand, Jake and Sara talked and walked until they reached her car.

  “Where are you flying out of?”

  “Tipton. There’s a light jet waiting for me.”

  “Tipton, perfect.” A smile flashed across Jake’s face. “Let me know when you’re touching down on the way back. Our time starts then.”

  Sara instinctively moved half an inch toward him. No, get a grip. What the hell’s wrong? What’s gotten into me? Sara took both of Jake’s hands, leaned back, and regarded him. “Jake, thank you. For getting me out of my office, for the coffee. For the conversation.” She released his hands and settled into her Audi. She would usually drive short distances herself. Today, though, she held down the navigation button. “Tipton airport.” She used the time to think about Jake. For the first time in a week, she was not thinking of the Chinese.

  #

  The evening’s first stars sparkled over Tipton Airfield. Originally an Army facility, it became a civilian airport providing convenient service to outlying areas of Baltimore and Annapolis, to Fort Meade, and to the National Security Agency. Sara’s Audi pulled up to a small operations building with a swooping, clay roofline reminiscent of traditional Asian architecture. It was the sort of structure you could buy blueprints for online and hire a construction firm to print in a day or two. She hopped out, grabbed her overnight bag, and ran inside.

  “Deputy Director Wells,” read a hand-lettered sign held up by a handsome man in a pilot’s uniform. He had a medium, athletic build, a military haircut, and alert eyes that seemed incapable of missing the slightest detail.

  “I’m Sara Wells.”

  “Captain Hayes. I’m your pilot for the flight to Houston.” He slipped the sign into a leather bag. “Do you need anything before we head out? It’s a five-seat jet. There’s a lavatory, but it’s not particularly spacious. If you have to make a stop first…”

  “Thank you, Captain. I’m ready to go.”

  The Captain escorted her through modest security and onto the tarmac. The pungent odor of burnt kerosene reached her nose. Electric aircraft commanded a solid share of regional air traffic, but nothing compared to a jet when time was at a premium. The aircraft he escorted her to was small, perhaps fifteen meters long. He pulled the door down, transforming it to a narrow staircase. The interior lit up, dimly at first, becoming bright over several seconds, revealing a luxurious interior featuring four executive-style seats.

  “I thought you said this is a five-seater?”

  “It is. Four comfy seats back here and one for me.” Captain Hayes smiled.

  “Captain Hayes?”

  “Yes, ma’am?”

  “Why are you winking?” His left eye was closed.

  He laughed softly. “Night vision, ma’am.”

  Sara raised a brow.

  “It takes thirty minutes for your eyes to fully adapt to the dark. The cabin light is pretty bright, so I’m keeping one eye closed to keep it adjusted to the darkness. These days flying is automated and routine, but just in case, I need to see the best I can.”

  The words sounded rote. I bet he’s a flight instructor, too. Sara averted her eyes from the cabin. “Can you dim the lights? I want to see everything I can. I love flying, especially at night.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’d be happy to.” The Captain seemed pleased.

  The jet rolled onto the only runway. Captain Hayes applied power, sending the aircraft scooting down the runway much faster than a commercial flight. Sara pressed her face flat against the window, watching the runway lights, airport buildings, and parked planes roll past. The plane snapped upward and climbed into the gathering dusk then began a gentle roll to the right. Sara sat on the left side. I can’t see the ground from here. The fasten seatbelt light was still on. Who’s going to know? She unbuckled, shot over to a seat on the other side, and snapped back in. Better!

  Ten minutes into the flight, Elena’s avatar appeared. “I’m sorry to disturb your trip, but the White House informed us the president is making an unscheduled stop in Beijing before returning from the Philippines. He wants an update twice a day until then.”

  “Great. I get to tell the president twice a day that I’m failing at my job.”

  “It’s not for lack of trying. You hardly left the office since he handed you that task.”

  “Did you tell the team yet? How did they take it?”

  “It kicked them into double overdrive. They’re in a frenzy searching for anything useful. You should send them home soon. They’re burning out.”

  “I know, and I will.” I’m burning out, too. She wanted to ask something else. Even though the jet charter and pilot were meticulously vetted, top secret information could not be discussed on board. Listening technology could be remarkably hard to detect. “Forgive me. I can’t seem to grasp this new tech.” She closed her eyes, slowly at first then with a sudden blink. A blue symbol, the stylized word neuroTalk, appeared in her aiDe. She thought the words she wished to ask Elena.

  The text, “Amy news information about drive lie?” appeared in blue letters. A send icon flashed, awaiting her confirmation.

  “Grr,” Sara said alo
ud.

  “Send it. Send what you’ve got,” Elena said.

  “It’s gibberish.”

  “Just send it.”

  Sara sent the text.

  “Hmm, I see. Don’t think about how you would type the words,” Elena said. “Visualize the concept.”

  Sara tried again.

  “Any new information about Dr. Li?” read the new attempt.

  “There we go!” Sara sent the words to Elena.

  “I’m sorry, no. We haven’t picked up anything about Dr. Li’s fate. I have a feeling, though, that she’s still alive.” Elena looked worried.

  “I hope you’re right,” Sara said. Please let her be all right. “Let me know immediately if there are developments.”

  “Of course,” Elena said.

  “Is there anything else?”

  “Yes, there is. Who’s this guy that has you behaving like a giddy teenager?”

  “A giddy… what? Who said that?”

  “No one. Well, I did, just now. No one else, not in those words. I picked up a few bits and pieces and put the rest together.”

  “For the record,” Sara said, “I’m not behaving like a giddy teenager.”

  “You’re not behaving like a Deputy Director, either. Not when it comes to Mr. Hayden. You’re not yourself. Not even close.”

  “Elena, you’re over-analyzing. Jake’s an interesting man with insights relevant to national security. I enjoy talking to him. End of story.”

  “Uh-huh,” Elena said. “Just be careful. You were appointed on a high note, and that grants you some latitude, but you have your share of jealous detractors waiting for a misstep.”

  “Nothing is going on,” Sara said.

  “You don’t want to talk. I’ll drop it. Do me a favor. Get some rest on the flight.”

  Sara promised she would. As she reclined, the airplane seat became gel-like. Once her weight shifted, it firmed up, conforming precisely to her body. Why is Elena so riled up about Jake? He’s an interesting person. I was talking to him. People do that. She closed her eyes and began to drift off. The plane jolted, hitting a bit of turbulence. He is fascinating. Why? Why does he stand out like that? He’s so. So much… The jet turbines droned Sara into a light sleep. A vague sense of anxiety floated about her like a dark, foreboding cloud. Unnamed threats lurked just beyond perception. She found herself locked on a path of dread. Someone, or something, was taunting her. Every time she focused on the source, it became nebulous, as often happens in dreams. She floated, drifting from one unsettling, vaguely defined scene to another. There was a presence. Her mother, maternal disappointment palpable. If only she could-

  She woke suddenly when Captain Hayes announced, “Please tighten your seatbelt. We’re landing in a few minutes.”

  The jet banked for its final approach to Ellington Airport, northwest of NASA’s Johnson Space Flight Center. Sara darkened the already dim cabin. The bright-white runway edge lights, green lights at the runway threshold, red lights marking the end of the runway, and blue taxiway lights appeared. How beautiful. So Christmasy. 100 feet, 50 feet, 10 feet, touchdown.

  The jet braked sharply then turned off the runway, rolling to a stop near a one-story, steel-and-glass building where a dozen other aircraft were parked. The pilot opened the door and offered a hand to help her out. “Thank you, Captain Hayes.” She gave the pilot a cheerful-yet-weary smile.

  A sleek, black government car awaited Sara on the tarmac. The driver, a tall man with buzz-cut hair, greeted her and held the door open. She fell easily into the plush back seat, happily drifting off to sleep during the short drive from the airport to her hotel.

  “Director Wells? We’re here,” the driver announced, almost apologetically.

  “Hmmm. Thank you, er…” Sara struggled to wake up again. What a week.

  “Ethan, ma’am,” he said.

  “Ethan. Thank you for the ride.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am. Can I help you with your bag?” Ethan asked.

  “No, no. I can manage.” Sara gathered her case and stepped out.

  “Very good, Ms. Wells. When shall I collect you in the morning?” Ethan asked.

  “6:30 a.m., please. I’m having breakfast with Dr. Okoye at his office at 7 a.m.” She waved good night, checked in, and hit the pillow as fast as she could. Five minutes. I’ll get up and get ready for bed in five minutes. Seconds later, she was out cold. Her sleeping mind raced. Most of her dreams were incoherent, but one was lucid. She and Jake had traveled to China to adopt a child. They fell in love with a baby, a girl with bright, intelligent eyes. Sara’s mother lurked in the shadows of her perception, watching Sara play with the baby. Guilt gnawed at the back of Sara’s mind. She tried to shake the feeling. It was her family, and she would have it on her terms. She and Jake needed approval from the Chinese government to adopt the little girl. They kept trying to reach the courthouse, but President Billmore called again and again with urgent-yet-pointless errands that delayed and distracted them. After endless false steps, the couple finally stood before a disapproving Chinese magistrate. The image faded and was lost. Lost. Lost. Loss. Snow. Christmas. She was a young girl, perhaps four years old. Dad was there, wearing one of the holiday sweaters Mother was so fond of. Cloves and cinnamon. He smelled like a gingerbread house. Dad smiled, tickled her. A klaxon sounded.

  BEEP…BEEP…BEEP… She awoke with a start. The klaxon was her alarm. What a dream. Jake? China? Dad? What the hell? 6:25. Gonna be late. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. Geez, I’m still in yesterday’s clothes? I’m burning out and going crazy. Get it together. She splashed cold water on her face, hastily washed up, and changed her top.

  Outside, Ethan waited patiently next to the car. “Good morning, Director Wells. I took the liberty of picking you up a coffee on the way in.” He handed her a large, ceramic travel mug with the NASA logo emblazoned on it.

  Sara managed a weary smile. “Did I look that tired last night?”

  “Not at all,” Ethan lied.

  She sniffed the brew, deeply inhaling its rich aroma. “Now that’s good stuff. Thank you.”

  Sara hadn’t quite finished her morning cup when they reached Dr. Okoye’s office.

  “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave, Director Wells,” Ethan said. “You can keep the mug if you like. It’s a gift from NASA.”

  Dr. Abel Okoye mentored Sara when she attended the NSA Science and Technology Summer Internship program, the same summer her dad passed away. Abel was a rock supporting her through that turbulent time. They became close friends and often found a reason to work together. His office was unimpressive on the outside, a standard issue senior bureaucrat box with a panoramic view of the parking lot. The inside was a different matter. His desk was a large block of transparent aluminum on titanium supports, his chair an impressive, plush leather affair. Two comfortable cloth chairs were positioned on the visitor side of his desk, with a hand-carved African tripod table between them. Fresh fruit and a variety of nuts adorned an ebony side table, and a six-foot, detailed metal model of a Star Trek ship, the Enterprise-D Sara recalled, hung suspended in the corner over Abel’s right shoulder.

  “Sara!” Abel threw his hands open in greeting, grinning broadly, his white teeth flashing vividly against his dark skin.

  She strode across the room and gave him a warm hug. “Abel. I’m happy to see you in person again. How long has it been?”

  “Too long, Sara. Too long.” He sized her up. “You look famished. Now tell me, how will you take your omelet?” Abel pointed to an electric cooktop on a side table, with a generous assortment of ingredients each in their own bowl, ready for use.

  “They let you cook in here?” Sara asked.

  “No,” Abel answered. “Ham and onions?”

  “That sounds wonderful.”

  He sautéd her first ingredients. “You see, when you get to be my age, you enjoy the liberty of pretending your hearing aid battery is running low when the office cops come and complain about this and that
. The doctors have me a little more worried. They want me to go vegan or some such nonsense. But, what do they know?” Abel added a thick slice of butter and three eggs. “Veggies?”

  “Huh? Oh. Bell peppers and mushrooms.” Sara had not eaten anything home cooked for weeks. “That smells wonderful.” She followed the words with a satisfied sigh. Abel topped off the dish with a generous pinch of Monterey Jack cheese. The scent of fresh food sautéing in real butter awakened something in Sara’s spirit. It reminded her of leisurely Sunday brunch with friends and family, of a time before the caffeine-fueled ball of worry that marked the last few years.

  “Eat!” Abel handed her the omelet on a plate decorated with a traditional African zig-zag pattern.

  The two enjoyed a lengthy breakfast and spoke of space exploration, music, and the joys of government employment. “So, tell me young lady, is there a man in your life yet?”

  Sara felt her cheeks warm and heard her pulse beating. She tried to swallow down a bite while shaking her head no. Jake’s only a friend, nothing more. Right?

  Before she could speak, Abel said, “So there is. No sense in denying it.” Abel studied her. “About damned time. You give everything you have to your job. That’s one reason you’re so good at it. Your work brings you satisfaction and prestige. Those are wonderful things. I’m glad you discovered them, but there’s more to life than work. To experience harmony, you need to make time to explore your humanity. Build deep friendships, make room for love and family.” Abel picked up a strawberry and took a large bite. “Delicious.” He savored the fruit, then added, “I am blessed that I found harmony in my own life. It gives me a profound sense of meaning and is an infinite well of energy that I can draw upon to achieve just about anything I set my mind to. When I die, I’ll have the comfort of knowing I lived my life to my own expectations, not to anyone else’s.” He tossed the strawberry stem into a waste bin. “I take it you didn’t come to hear the ramblings of an old man. You want to discuss the Chinese?”

  “The president will demand my resignation soon if I don’t deliver useful intelligence on the Chinese fusion project. I don’t know what else to do. They have a game-changer on their hands, and they’re taking every precaution to protect it. We haven’t uncovered even the smallest bit of information on the project since the hack. I…” Sara swallowed hard. “I have never failed so completely.”