"So who is this guy?" The General asked as he looked over several sheets of paper bearing grids with information handwritten in several rows and columns.
When he had reviewed a faxed copy of the document, everything had seemed to be in order; but the tampering was obvious to him when confronted with the original loading manifest.
One of the columns of the table was labeled Load Serial Code, the cells underneath it filled with cryptic combinations of numbers and letters. Tomlinson and a select group of high-ranking members of the team knew that the designation for the true Polyphemus load was XC1212F1B. This string of characters was listed as having been loaded on the trailer of Annette Cassidy, the woman who met her untimely end under a barrage of fire from The General and police officers in Mississippi. This was, of course, inaccurate -- as they had found after snuffing the woman out.
What wasn't clear in the facsimile version of this record was that this assignment of the load to her truck was written atop a thick bed of White-Out. Several other listings on the form had been concealed and written over as well, so it was impossible to figure out exactly which of the fifty trucks listed was pulling the sought after freight.
Butler had tried holding the document up to the light, hoping he would be able to make out what had originally been filled in. Unfortunately, the forger had blacked everything out with a marker before applying the liquid paper, making it a lost cause.
The team had gone so far as to have a forensic document analyst examine the piece, only to learn that the person responsible for the defacing had even rubbed out the indentions the original pen had made in the paper. Apparently, a coin or something with similar small ridges was used, destroying any traces of what had been written there before.
The loading manifest was useless; there was no way to determine which truck the payload was on and, therefore, no conceivable way to find it.
Tomlinson ordered that the chain of custody of the paperwork be meticulously scrutinized, his team questioning everyone who had an opportunity to have altered it. He and The Ambassador were landing back in Oceanside when they received word that the saboteur had been taken into custody.
"His name is Glen Cross." Sergeant Elaine Dickinson replied to The General's inquiry. She had been charged with tracking down the wanted man once he was identified, and had picked him up in short order. They hauled him off to a local FBI field office, where she met up with Butler and The General. "He's a longshoreman at the shipyard, has been employed there for six years."
"And do you mind telling me how in a longshoreman got his hands on a piece of classified military paperwork?" He barked in response.
"Apparently, he just walked up to Lieutenant Dix after the load out was complete and said that you had asked him to pick it up."
"So Dix just gave it to him? Jesus Christ, what kind of people do we promote around here anymore?"
"The Lieutenant's service record has been exemplary outside of this incident, sir." Dickinson answered. "He was tired; it had been a long night."
"What are you, his mother?" Tomlinson snapped. "He forks over a document with incredibly sensitive information on it to a god damned dock flunky -- and you're defending him?"
"No sir, I just --"
"Get out!" He interrupted with fury, hurling his heavy aluminum clipboard against the wall of the conference room in which they sat with several members of the Polyphemus recovery team. "Everyone just get the hell out of here! Leave me and The Ambassador alone! The gross incompetence of this unit may well have brought about an apocalypse, I'm not in the mood to hear about exemplary service records at this particular point in time!"
The others did as he directed, each of them looking like deer in the headlights of an oncoming tractor-trailer when faced with The General's wrath. He took a deep breath and held it for a second, then exhaled with a sigh.
Butler couldn't help but chuckle as the old man shook his head in disgust. Karma had brought the frustration he felt with The Ambassador's people, when Polyphemus had landed so far off course, back to him in spades... even those trained under his own skilled and watchful eye were capable of making mistakes.
"I guess it just wasn't meant to be." Butler suggested. "It was a Hail Mary play to begin with anyway... could've been a beautiful thing, had it worked out... but fate wouldn't have it."
The General looked over the modified manifest once more before tossing it to the center of the conference table, chucking it like so much garbage. "I don't know whether to laugh or cry, Ambassador. Part of me wants to hug you, but I'm more inclined to slap the taste out of your mouth. You've just suggested that the extinction of your people will be okay because that's just how it all worked out."
"The possibility of our destruction has been looming for generations, Rich... it's not a new concept. We've had plenty of time to digest the idea. It's not ideal, but we're prepared to accept it. After all, it would appear that it is the will of God."
"That's horse-shit, Conrad! I've known plenty of your kind over the years; you're good people. I've never understood the concept of genocide, let alone speciocide! I just can't wrap my mind around it... what drives The Phloxans to maraud around the universe erasing entire races? What's the goal? What's the reward they're after?"
"There doesn't seem to be a goal at all -- they're just savages." Butler answered, calling on centuries of his memory. "They've never colonized any of the planets they've conquered... never extracted any element or tapped any resource of the worlds they've wiped clean of life... they just wander around until something catches their attention; then they attack it brutally. I've never heard of them taking prisoners or making demands; or saying anything, for that matter, outside of die."
"It's amazing that your people have held out for so long. How did you do it? How have you withstood their siege?"
"We haven't for as long as you think, Rich -- remember, it took them nearly a millennium just to figure out how to kill us. I guess they'd never encountered a race without physical form... when they found us, they tried everything they had available to no avail whatsoever. They eventually had to disappear while they tried to come up with a means of extermination, giving us plenty of time to prepare for their return.
"We gave it everything we had; they just have our number, that's all. We spread our eggs into too many baskets... We reached out to so many others -- more than we could bring up to speed in time. Your people were the most promising; had we focused our efforts solely on your development, maybe we could've gotten you ready to join the game on a larger scale in time.
"Polyphemus was promising as well; had we dedicated more time and resources to it we could've had several of them. Then we wouldn't have blown it on one calculation. If we could've gotten just one of them to the Phlox home world, as was intended, we may have been able to rid the cosmos of them all together.
"We're the victims of our own failings... great planning with poor execution. There's little hope for us now... The payload is as good as lost, and for all your efforts -- man is simply not ready to help yet.
"My only regret is that we've pulled you into their sights... now that they know you exist, you'll be on their list. Probably the short list, given your involvement with us."
"They would've found us sooner or later anyway." The General replied. "We would've found our way to the stars eventually... would've taken considerably longer without your help, but we would've managed. The detonation of a nuke or an orbiting space station would've caught their attention at some point. If they come for us now, it'll be no different than what was bound to happen one day down the line; even if we had never crossed paths with you to begin with. They may yet decide to leave us alone, for the time being... we won't be much fun for them, I imagine -- not much of a challenge."
"It's possible, but you seem to be forgetting about what brings us here tonight, Rich... Polyphemus itself is a serious risk to you and your planet. If the Phloxans were only concerned
with keeping it away from them, they would have destroyed it. I'm afraid they have something else in mind... that's what worries me now."
"You think they intend to use it against us? That's not really their style, it would be a strange move."
"And they are a strange race... it wouldn't be the first time they'd done something unexpected. Their minds are very complex, we could speculate all night and never figure out what they're up to -- but that seems pointless, considering we've got a guy in the next room who likely knows exactly what they have planned..."
"I guess we should go talk to him, then..."
"It may be our only chance to save Humanity."
"It's more than that, Ambassador -- it's the audible of the Hail Mary play you spoke of. Perhaps you've given up on saving your people, but I haven't! I intend to find Polyphemus and get it to that launch-pad! Man didn't allow Hitler to exist -- we can't stomach the Phloxans any more than we could him! I learned a lot in the Second World War, Conrad, the most important lesson being that you can never underestimate the power of the Human spirit when a man is determined to make something happen. Let's go tinker with fate..."
Chapter 13