The Second Ship (The Rho Agenda #1)(95)
The sound from the cold fusion apparatus was surprisingly loud. This occurred because the reaction produced heat, and that heat produced steam, which in turn they siphoned off to drive a steam-powered electric generator. The generator itself only produced a whirring sound, but the steam whistled out with a sound reminiscent of a teakettle.
“You know, that is really getting to be annoying,” said Mark.
“I agree,” said Jennifer. “We’re going to have to come up with a better design for the steam recycler or we’ll go deaf.”
“We just have to put up with it a little while,” said Heather. “Just long enough for us to find a SIPRNet line and put the message on it.”
They didn’t actually need the electricity the project generated, just the gamma ray flux. But since the purpose of the science project was to provide a household energy source driven by cold fusion, they had to have that part of it. Besides, there had to be a means of dumping the excess heat that cold fusion generated, and the state transition of liquid water to steam was a good way of doing that.
Heather read off the latitude and longitude of the Puzzle Palace, allowing a few extra seconds for Jennifer to synchronize the system with Greenwich Mean Time via a remote time server.
Despite having an accurate coordinate for the building, their difficulty was going to lie in the massive amount of electronic systems inside. When they tuned their subspace receiver to that spot, the close proximity of computer systems and network cabling would make it hard to find a particular one, at least the first time.
On the plus side, it didn’t really matter which subnet they accessed within the Puzzle Palace, so long as it was a SIPRNet. Since almost everything in the building was classified, that was not going to be hard to find.
“Got one.” The excitement in Jennifer’s voice crackled like static on a New Mexico AM radio station.
“How’s the signal strength?” Mark asked.
“Beautiful. And the power grid is stable too. Give me just a second to confirm the subnet's SIPRNet status.”
Jennifer’s fingers danced across the keyboard as a stream of data scrolled through a window on the monitor and lit the LED panel like a Christmas tree at the North Pole.
Jennifer leaned back, beaming. “That’s it. We’re in.”
Heather took a deep breath. Oh, Jesus. They had really done it.
“Okay, putting a test sync pattern on the network.” Jennifer typed a quick command. “I’ve got confirmation. The pattern has been successfully uplinked to the SIPRNet.”
Mark let out a low whooping sound. “All right. Now uplink the message and then let’s power down.”
“There’s really no rush,” said Heather. “We absolutely cannot be traced. To them it will look like the signal just appeared inside their own network, and if they trace it back to its origin, they will find out it originated on a fiber inside their own building.”
“Christ, this is great.”
Heather frowned. “Still, I guess it would be wise not to spend too long surfing their network, at least for the moment. It might be a little hard to explain what we’re up to if your parents come back home unexpectedly.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got that story down. Our little science project here is cutting their electric bill.”
Jennifer shook her head. “Better safe than sorry, though. I’m ready to send.”
Heather leaned in closer. “Go for it.”
Originally, they had put together a wordy message to the NSA. But after lengthy discussions, they had agreed less was more. With that in mind, they had settled on a very short message, encrypted with the same breakable encryption code as the earlier message their virus had delivered. That should get someone's attention.
“Well, here goes nothing.”
Amidst the cascading display of colors from the LED panel and the whistling rush of their steam-powered generator, Jennifer’s slender fingers flew across the keys like a concert pianist performing the works of Sergei Vasilievich Rachmaninov. As Heather watched her friend at work, gooseflesh rose along her arms. Those dancing fingers were about to unleash a firestorm the like of which the NSA had never seen.
Chapter 71
David Kurtz burst into Jonathan Riles’ office in such a hurry that the door banged against the doorstop, rippling the surface of Riles’ coffee.
Riles looked up from his papers. “Yes, David? What has your panties in a bunch?”
Although the hair on Kurtz’s head gave Albert Einstein a run for his money on a normal day, this afternoon it looked like he’d stuck a fork into a 220-volt socket. He tossed a stack of printouts on top of the other papers on Riles’ desk.
“We have a situation that requires your immediate involvement.”
Riles did not bother to glance at the readouts, focusing his steely gaze on Kurtz. “You have my full attention.”
David Kurtz paused, something the most brilliant computer scientist on the planet almost never did. “Since the speculation is so outlandish, I’ll stick solely to the facts. We have received another message from the author of the New Year’s Day Virus, and this one came in on the SIPRNet.”
“Have you traced the source?”
“We have.”
“And?”