The Plot Today the activity picked up a bit at the harbor where the freighter lay at anchor. Around noon we heard a whooshing sound and a number of helicopters approached the boat. No one knew whose choppers they were. They weren't ours. We watched a lot of bustling aboard the freighter as the copters approached. The surface of the freighter erupted in fire and smoke as it launched a barrage of rockets against the aircraft. The copters tried to wheel and avoid the rockets but one by one the rockets impacted and knocked the copters out of the sky as we stood by helpless. A few minutes later we made out a squadron of jets approaching low and fast. They shrieked by, splitting the air. We could see them turning off in the distance, ready for another approach. I don't really know what happened next because I woke up a few minutes later. Everyone had passed out, apparently even the pilots of the jets because in the distance we could see the burning wreckage. A couple of us had been injured by falling. I don't know what kind of weapon that was, but if you're reading this you'd better be prepared for it. One minute you're awake, the next you're asleep. Still we watched and observed, working on a plan to capture the boat before anyone else could. Lets see, where was I...oh yeah. I worked pretty closely with Carrie over the next few months. I hate to admit it, but she made a pretty effective leader for this project. After her initial bout of haughtiness she settled down a bit and focused on the task at hand. I didn't enjoy it at all, since she still was demanding and occasionally demeaning, but she spent most of her time elsewhere and only showed up a handful of days each month. I didn't know what other parts of the project she worked on if any. She did stay in constant contact via email and video so it's not like I could really escape her. Spring turned into summer, a hot, abominable summer with swarms of flies everywhere. Only the work area had air conditioning, but the dorms and mess hall sweltered in the heat. Naturally we spent as much time as possible in the work area since the rest of our camp became unbearable. We could still hear the occasional screams and executions coming from the other camps, but we pressed on. Being with the same people day in and day out eventually wore nerves ragged, so I imposed mandatory "vacations" where people couldn't enter the work room for a few days. I myself had to take one after I got into a stupid fight with Misty about dinner of all things. She had made something for me and I didn't realize she had made it and I went off on the terrible food. She began screaming at me how I never appreciate all the little things she does for me. We created quite a scene. We decided to take a "break" and not come to work for a few days. Once we returned, we practically jumped in each other's arms. We talked about how much we missed each other and how much we loved each other and how sorry we were for fighting. I promised I would never take her for granted and she promised to not "test" me with food. She admitted her biggest fear was that I only like her because she was convenient and I might ditch her once we got out. I assured her I wouldn't and said something sappy like we met here because we were meant to meet here.   Autumn brought a rising of tensions in camp. We knew that we approached our completion date. I knew this meant our execution was literally weeks away. I thought about begging for Carrie to help us escape but I'd only use that as a last resort. After months of decent cooperation, she began to become more erratic, yelling at the smallest issues and threatening people. A oppressive weight gathered on our shoulders. Just about a month ago, I was reviewing some of Misty's code when I became confused over some security protocols she had written. I called her over. "Hey Misty, what's with this section here," I asked. "Uhh. Oh, yeah," she stammered. "That's something Carrie Park asked me to do." I looked up at and she glanced over towards Bethany. "Ok," I said, a little confused. "What is it?" "She just wanted a debug port set up," said Misty. "A temporary back-door to be used during testing." A back-door allow programmers to bypass the main security. "Well, make sure you add it to the bug list so we remember to remove it before it ships." Misty glanced over to Bethany again, and I looked around to. "What going on," I asked. Misty walked around my desk and kneeled down next to me so she wouldn't be overheard. "Just meet me in the gym at 3:00. Don't be late. There's something I need to show you." "Oh?" I smiled at her, thinking she was being flirty and setting up one of our rendezvous, but she looked dead serious. "Okay, I'll be there." At three I wandered over to the gym. Misty met me and grabbed my hand. "Follow me." She led me back into the men's locker room. For a moment I thought she had some intimate plans until I noticed a group of people in there. They were some of my most reliable and trusted people, all hailing from the US or UK. Bethany, Misty, Ron, Barry, and Ben. "What's going on," I asked. "We have something to tell you," said Misty. "We've been debating whether we can trust you. It's never been clear what happened at Infinitae, and you have some pretty damaging connection to Carrie Park and Chinese agents. At this point we have no choice but to trust. You see, Alex, we're not just asylum seekers. We're government agents planted here to uncover The Plot. We've lost many good people so far." I smirked. "You guys? Agents? You couldn't fight you way out of paper bags." "Technically we're analysts," said Bethany. "We were approached with this suicide assignment because our governments believe there was a real threat here. We also scored high on resisting interrogation. One by one we've come here. And now we know most of The Plot, and we're ready to act." "We're getting out of here," said Misty, excitement in her eyes. "The code you saw today was one of a series of steps we're taking to undermine the project, creating security holes so we can hack back into it." "Jesus Christ," I exclaimed. "Are you guys serious? Agents? Why didn't anyone tell me? What the hell am I? You guys don't trust me after everything we've gone through? I've spent nearly a year in this hellhole and I've suffered as much as anyone. Did you say you're getting out of here? Does this mean you could have gotten out of here anytime? What the fuck is going on?" "Lower your voice," urged Bethany. "You didn't come with the best reputation. We still have questions. But we've taken a huge risk because we think you can help us." I glared at the group. "If Carrie gets even a whiff of this, she'll pull the plug and we'll be dead. What are you guys thinking? And why wait 'til now to tell me all this? Are you trying to get everyone killed? And Misty, you've been lying to be this whole time?" I figured Misty hadn't told me how she came to be here because of embarrassment. I stared at the lot of them. They all seemed extremely nervous. These people weren't agents like Ellie. They were just people like me, thrust into an impossible situation. It strained my mind to think that none of them had cracked. Or maybe some had, and paid the ultimate price. "So...what's the plan? You have some plan to get out of here?" "We're awaiting instructions. We've received some tracking devices. Here, keep this hidden on you at all times." Bethany handed me a slip of paper. I was puzzled until I noticed faint traces of wires in the paper. It was a tiny paper thin tracking device. I could put it in my shoe or my pocket and it would just look like a scrap of paper. "There's going to be an extraction. There's only enough space for the people in this room. The entire complex will be leveled, and hopefully all this technology will be destroyed." "Shit. What about the rest of the team?" Bethany shook her head. "We don't have the resources. Their respective countries will be notified of their whereabouts. This is a quick get-in-get-out operation. It's gotten to the point where we've been forced to act. This thing, whatever it is, looks like it may become operational. And we can't let that happen." I exhaled heavily. "Do you have any idea what it is? Do you know what all this software controls?" They all kind of looked at each other. I waved my arms. "All this, as far as I can tell, is the control system for some kind of super weapon. This weapon is capable of taking out cities without any loss of structures. It can also power whole cities with no pollution or waste. So it can either be the greatest boon mankind has ever seen, or its worst nightmare. It all depends on who controls it, which currently looks like the Chinese." Bethany grimmaced. "Damn. Well, it's not the Chinese. Even though this is a Chinese facility, we've determined that they are not in charge of this place. Some other entity runs it with their tacit approval. We've still investigating, but it seems to be run by some amalgam of private Chinese nationals, energy companies, and organized crime. It's a huge power play. If what you say is true, they could control the future of this planet." Misty added, "and if that happens, we're all screwed." Posted: Sunday, November 9, 2008 @ 7:38 PM

Kastle Klingon Posted: Sunday, November 2, 2008 @ 4:22 PM I've been reading up on the US election in a few days. I really like the quote from Sen. Biden that goes something like, "Obama will be tested in the first 6 months." Well, whoever gets elected, the next crisis won't be in six months. It could be as soon as six days. If we can't find a way to avert it, the next President may not have a whole lot of country to inherit. But enough about that. There's not much I can do right now, at least not until we arrive at our destination. On my first day after my release from interrogation, I met the woman who would be my guide. "Hi, my name is Bethany. I run part of this operation. I am your immediate supervisor, but really, I'm not in charge of a whole lot here. I'm just here to help you any way I can." She managed a wan ironic smile, but in her eyes I gathered a deep sadness and extreme fatigue.  "I've been here almost a year now," she continued, pulling over a chair so we could sit and chat. "Which is ancient. Most people last a month, two at most. Then they invariable break down, and then they are led out back and shot. Usually in front of the whole team. Either that or someone rats them out." I glance around the room. Furtive eyes snatch peeks at me but no one makes any effort to introduce themselves. I get the feeling like I'm the fat cow ready for slaughter.  Bethany hands me a sheet of paper. "This is your assignment for today. It shouldn't be difficult. However," she sighs, "if you fail to complete it by 1700, well...just get it done. I've got to get back to work. We might be able to talk a little bit at dinner." I rolled over to my workstation, a non-descript computer with randomly manufactured parts. My checklist consisted of install tasks and online security requests. As I worked I studied the room. I didn't see any guards but the ceiling bloomed with cameras that tracked people as they moved around the room. I could tell by the cabling that someone watched everything on my monitor, and captured my keyboard strokes. My tasks proved to be fairly simple, thankfully. I created my accounts, installed my software, and boxed up all the papers around my desk. At regular intervals guards would unlock the doors and allow access to bathroom facilities. Heaven forbid you couldn't hold it long enough. Bethany wasn't the only woman in the room. I spotted a few others here and there, of all races and nationalities. The entire room seemed to be a mixture of people all over the globe. I wondered how many were asylum seekers and how many were prisoners. I doubt anyone worked here voluntarily...maybe not even the guards. I could tell dinner was approaching because the clicking of mice and keyboards grew frantic as well as the cursing in all languages. All the computers locked up a the same time, refusing further input. I heard a few screams of exasperation and fear chorus through the room.  "No," cried one of the women, a small Asian-looking woman who sounded American. "No, please! I'm almost done!" The doors burst open and in strode a number of burly guards, who grabbed the woman roughly. The remainder of the guards hustled us out into a quadrangle formed by the surrounding buildings.  A huge bear of a man with long hair and a wild beard strode out and assessed the huddled mass. He face bore the scars of battles, and he seemed like something out of a pro wrestling match. I sought out Bethany and quietly asked her what was happening. "Ssh. He's General Khanan. Since his name sounds Klingon, someone started calling him General Klingon, and this place because Kastle Kingon, or sometimes just K2. You do not want to cross him. Shh." General Khanan began speaking in rough English as the girl pleaded with her captors, one who cruelly slapped her across the face and threatened her with a closed fist. "Comrades," he started in a thick Chinese accent. "Your progress has been most disappointing. The Premiere is counting on you to deliver, yet you persist in delaying and not giving your best effort." He drew a gun and the crowd drew their breaths. The girl screamed. I didn't know what the hell was going on. It was like the world had gone crazy. Death for missing deadlines? "I thought you had learned your lessons yesterday. Apparently you continue to delay and fail. Why must you need more examples? Why must I continue to do this? Once again I must demonstrate the price of failure." He walked over to the girl and aimed his gun at the back of her head as the guards held her down. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't think I was thinking at that moment. My mouth just opened and I shouted, "Hey! Leave her alone!" The General spun on his heels like he'd been hit with a spitwad. The crowd shrank away from me, even Bethany. The General motioned to the guards to drag the girl over to me. "Ahh. Mr. Ross. We finally meet. Your reputation proceeds you." Of course he pronounced it "Meesta Woss". As he approached I got a sense of the true size of the man. Probably six-foot six and close to three hundred pounds, his muscles practically bursting his uniform open. I felt like a little kid next to him. He fingered his pistol for a moment. He didn't seem like a guy who even needed a gun to do his dirty work. He could wring my neck like a chicken. I held up my hands and grinned sheepishly. "It's your first day and you think you can run things better than me. You want to be a hero now? After blowing up half your home town, you now want to be a hero? OK then, hero." He motioned to the guards to let the girl up, then they strode over to me, forced my wrists behind my back, nearly wrenching my arm out of my sockets, and pushed me down to my knees. I felt the cold end of the barrel of the pistol against the back of my neck. "You feel like a hero now? You willing to give your life for hers? You say the word, we let you go, and she dies. Who is she to you anyways? She nothing. You gonna die here? After all, I probably just kill her tomorrow." I struggled against the guards. I looked at the girl. What was she to me? I looked at the rest of the crowd. They simply stood and watched the spectacle. "What's it going to be, hero?" The man placed a giant paw around my throat and stared into my face. I felt his hot breath against my face. "Does she die, or do you die?" For a moment I felt hot tears run to my face. I didn't want to die out here, where ever the hell I was. If I died here, no one would know what happened to me. I'd never be able to fully clear my name. But... I couldn't have any more deaths on my conscience. Whether or not I caused any of those deaths, I was involved. I was responsible. I spat full in the face of The General. I don't think many people have done this before. In moments his face turned beet red. A deep rumbling emanated from his chest. He grabbed me by the shirt, lifted me over his head like a rag doll, and threw me about ten yards away. I crashed heavily on the ground, rolling a few times. Before I could gather myself up, he jumped on me again, grabbing me by the back of the neck and throwing me across the quadrangle. This time I was able to roll and jump to my feet. I tried to rush the monster, plunging my shoulder into his belly, but I might as well try to knock down a cell tower. He threw his arm into my back, nearly breaking it, and then slammed his foot into my gut. I writhed on the ground in pain. I didn't know if my back or my ribs were broken. His foot pushed me over onto my back and then he placed it heavily on my chest so I could barely breath. "Look at this hero," he spat on me. "Anyone else want to be a hero?" He motioned to a guard to hand him his pistol. "This is what happens to heroes around here." He aimed it at my head. I closed my eyes. Just then I heard some music. It sounded like Sinatra, "Fly me to the moon". The General fumbled with his pockets and produced a phone. He chatted in Chinese for a minute, then his voice began whining a bit. He waved his pistol emphatically at me, but then closed the phone and shoved it back in his pocket with a grimace on his face. He chatted with his men for a moment, then announced, "looks like it your day, hero. You do your work, you and me won't meet again. But one day you'll make a mistake, and I will eat you alive." He left me with one final kick to the jaw, perhaps trying to kill me with a well placed blow. The guards retreated, and the dinner bell rang. No one helped me up as the crowd scrambled to make the mess hall in time. I pulled myself to my feet, wiping the blood off my broken lips. Somehow I limped to the mess hall, last in line, and managed to only procure some slimy soup and some overcooked rice. As I walked through the hall, I tried to find a space to sit, but not even Bethany would make room for me at their table. I tried to wave to the girl I had saved, but she shrank away and huddled against someone. I finally shrunk down in a corner of the room, and managed to gulp down my food. After dinner they herded us back to our dormitories where I could finally rest, after examining the welts and bruises all over my body. It was the first day of many extremely long and punishing days at Kastle Klingon.

I'm Not A Terrorist The world is in terrible danger. Everyone is running around fussing about the Financial Crisis and the Election. I'm here to tell you that there is a threat developing that makes those issues look like a sunny day. I'm finally free again after 11 long months of captivity, and very recently I've become aware of an emerging danger that could destroy the world. My name is Alex Ross. My friend Iapetus999 has set up this blog and email address for me so I can communicate with the world once again. Do not take these threats lightly or treat them as some kind of fictional characterization. This threats are as real as rain. These threats can and will hurt or kill all of you if they come to fruition. Yes. I've seen all the stories. So I'm on the FBI's Top Ten Most Wanted. I'm on Interpol's watch list. I'm on Homeland Security's "no fly" list. I've seen the doctored footage. Anyone who's read Iap's blog knows who's responsible. We are not going to go over all of that again. I didn't blow up any buildings; I did everything I could to stop it. I'm not going to talk about what happened any more. You can try to find me, you can try to catch me, but I've been long gone. I think the world needs to focus on catching the true culprit. But enough of the past. I've tried to put that all behind me. Right now I'm in transit, heading to an unknown destination. A couple days ago I received a note giving me explicit instructions on how to escape. I followed them all to the letter, and here I am, heading to who knows where for some unknown purpose. Fortunately they provided me with internet access and I've been trying to catch up with world events. It's going to take a couple more days to arrive, which will give me some time to write down a few things. So you're probably wondering where I've been since last Dec. 1. You might recall that Ellie and her cohorts smuggled me out of the country. Well it was really in a cramped shipping container on a Chinese freighter. That was also the last time I've seen Ellie. I haven't heard a single thing from her in 11 months. I did hear some rumors about her. I also just found a blog that might be hers as well but right now its empty. Let's go back to the beginning. For a week I sat alone in the cargo container while it plied the Pacific Ocean. I had a supply of food and a lavatory, as well as a small flashlight, batteries, and old magazines. I had a lot to think about, but the lack of human contact began driving me crazy. I didn't know if it was night or day, and I couldn't hear anything but the sound of my own breathing and the creaking of the surrounding containers as the ship swayed back and forth. I began talking a lot to myself, and occasionally screamed and pleaded for someone to take me out of there. Unfortunately those pleas were finally answered. Upon arriving at port, they dragged me out of there, and placed me in the back of locked truck. For days the bounced along what felt like the most abused highway in the world. It felt like they drove me across the entire continent. They would let me out now and then but guarded me carefully with drawn weapons. After this arduous journey, they finally transferred to a facility that looked like a supermax prison with guards and dogs and barbed wire that seemed to stretch for miles. My heart sank at the thought that I'd escaped prosecution in the US only to be confined to some kind of Chinese Gulag. Well I was only partly right about the Gulag part. It certainly was forced labor...but of a different kind. The first few weeks there I have almost no recollection of. It was simply one interrogation after another, days upon days without sleep or food, beatings, drugs, just about everything. I think it was well into the new year until they were satisfied that they knew everything about me or had broken me or whatever. It's just really hard to think about. They let me rest for a few days. I think I literally slept the entire time. I also suspect they may have given me some drugs to help erase or at least obscure my memory of the interrogations. They then assigned me a dormitory room in one of the camps. It contained two cots, a sink, a set of drawers filled with grey prison-like clothes, a pair of ill-fitting shoes, a toilet in a tiny room, and a small mirror. I almost didn't recognize my face in the mirror, with two months of scraggly beard, uncut hair, and I'd probably lost close to 30 pounds. I found a small shaving kit in a cabinet under the sink and went to work cleaning myself up. The blade was dull and lifeless but little by little I got the job done. I still needed a hot shower but my door proved to be locked from the outside. After a few hours of napping my door clicked and in walked a smallish man followed by two burly guards. He had thinning hair in a comb-over and his face hid behind overly large thick glasses. "I am Captain Sou of the People's Army," he said in fairly understandable English. "I am here to orient you. Follow me." He led me through the barracks that was to be my home for the last ten months. He reeled off instructions: Breakfast, lunch, dinner at 0500, 1100, and 1700. One minute late and you may not enter. Orientation classes at 0530-0700, project work 0700-1000, calistenics 1000-1100, more project 1130-1400, orientation, etc throughout the day. I had one hour before lights out at 2100 to myself, although most days I simply feel asleep from exhaustion. After an extremely thorough and exhaustive introduction to my assignments, Cpn. Sou brought me to the room that would serve as my "office." I had half-expected to be put in chains and given a hammer and told to break rocks, but instead the door opened to a long hall filled with desks and racks of computers with wires flying everywhere. A din of electric fans filled the air. I could see dozens of people cramped into the small space, probably sixty people working in a space meant for 10. And this equipment was fairly state-off the art as well. Everyone stopped what they were doing and rose to attention when one of the guards blew his whistle. The Captain pointed to a woman over in the corner and motioned her over. I saw a tall blonde with short cropped hair rise and approach us. I could see the fear in her eyes as she regarded us. The Captain informed her that I was now in her charge and he expected me to be productive in a short time if she valued her position. With that he turned on his heels and strode out of the room. The woman extended her hand, more of a perfunctory gesture than with any sense of greeting. "Great," she mumbled with a pronounced English accent as she glanced through the file the Captain had handed her. "We've been expecting you. Welcome to Kastle Klingon. You can sit over here." She motioned me over to a desk filled with papers and notebooks. "Don't worry about that stuff, the previous occupant of this desk was executed yesterday. If you're lucky you'll end up the same way." Posted: Saturday, November 1, 2008 @ 01:50 AM