The Zero Day Proposal [02of10]
What will be Daniqua's answer to The Zero Day Proposal?
#1.4//EIGHTEEN_HUNDRED_SATURDAY
The helicopter landed and Daniqua stepped onto the tarmac. Her head ached from the bike accident. Knocked out only briefly; pride and probable concussion aside, she was unscathed. The flight from Dothan to Montgomery was quick, but she doubted she would be getting home again anytime soon. Her plans for Saturday evening were probably fubar.
Chest forward, shoulders back; she confidently strode out from under the spinning rotor blades, past the barracks, and toward the administrative building of the Alabama Army National Guard base.
In addition to her hot-pink sweatband, Daniqua wore a radioactive green fanny pack and a black tracksuit with gold vertical side stripes. A nice outfit, but sweaty from her morning workout. She had asked her arresting officers if they would allow her to change, but they declined. “No, sorry, we have orders.”
She resisted expressing her anger toward them, taking solace in the fact she was at least not wearing her yoga pants.
She flung open the door to the building, futilely conveying her frustration via excessive physical force. She stomped down the hallway to a door plainly marked 'ADMIN', and then knocked.
“Come in. Close the door behind!” invited a gravelly voice with a feminine timbre.
Daniqua entered.
Shutting the door, she looked around. The office had several metal hard-copy filing cabinets and book shelves along the walls. A miniature civil war era tabletop battlefield and a large wooden desk took up most of the remaining floor space. The cluttered room was illuminated by a large westward window partially occluded with vertical blinds. All horizontal surfaces were covered in a fine layer of dust. Everything was grayscale.
A uniformed woman in her early 50's stood behind the desk, half facing the window. The angle of light entering the room accentuated the woman's distinguished post-menopausal mustache. Insignia indicated she was a Colonel.
The Colonel tugged on a thin chain ordering the blind-blades to close ranks, blocking out the evening sun. She turned on a small desk lamp.
Daniqua's attention was drawn to a tan leather holster resting atop the desk. Inside the holster, was a gun with an ornate ivory pistol-grip. A 9mm Sig P320, semi-auto, mag loaded, 17 rounds, safety on.
The Colonel picked up a tablet laying beside the holster. She produced a pair of reading glasses from her side pocket, and then put them on, proceeding to silently thumb the tablet screen.
Standing at attention, Daniqua said nothing.
“Private Daniqua Lee Massey. 38 years old. Only child of decorated career Army Captain, James Massey. Family home Dothan, Alabama. But grew up living on army bases. Graduated USMA, 99th percentile,” the Colonel took a breath, then stressing the first of her concluding syllables said. “De-clined a service career. Contracted to Reserve Intelligence Ops as an L4 Asset Perspector. Going on 12 ye-”
“-with respect ma'am,” Daniqua interrupted. “I know my resume. Can we get to the point please?”
The Colonel frowned briefly. “Going on… 12 years. In that time, on Unlce Sam's dime, you've obtained dual PhDs. Social Psychology and Political Science. Published numerous research papers on topics ranging from Social Ontology, to Ideological Epidemiology. Cited infrequently. No Think-Tank or Do-Tank associations.
According to my records that's you.
I'm Colonel Jan C. Ajaarg. Director of Operations, DoD, Cyber Command.”
“Nice to meet you, ma'am.”
“Likewise. And, to-your-point; you've been activated as part of a sealed contingency protocol.”
“I signed up for no such role, ma'am.”
“Drawn up several years ago,” said Ajaarg. “You were not privy to the nomination. Could compromise the plan. But I assure you, your reserve status qualifies you to be volunteered for this. Your skills are important to our country in its time of need.”
“Time of need?” Daniqua gave a self-deprecating smirk. “I'm a Sociologist.”
Ajaarg expertly ignored or was oblivious to Daniqua's humor. “We are under full-scale Cyber Attack. I need you to gather psychographic perspects on a group of important assets.”
“I exercise my right to decline.” Daniqua's confident posture mirrored the firmness of her statement.
Ajaarg put down the tablet and motioned for Daniqua to sit in a chair in front of the desk. Proceeding to formally fold her hands behind her back, Ajaarg's pose transformed the suggestion to sit into an order.
Daniqua sat.
Ajaarg's brows converged, “You'd do well to remember that rights necessitate responsibilities. I did three tours of duty in pre-re-partition Iraq. I oversaw InfoSec during the successful Korean unification campaign.” Daniqua grokked skilled Ideo-Emotive range and control. The steady pace and volume indicating a high degree of theatricality.
Ajaarg consciously commanded her anger, indignantly continuing, “I have, at various points, had upwards of 100,000 men under my command. The percentage of officers who attain my rank, and arefemale, is just under 5 percent.”
No irony detected. Her use of 'female' in place of 'women' was intentional. Perhaps pride in overcoming a lack of biological privilege. Or maybe she was just a hard-farting lesbian basic bitch TERF.
Ajaarg leaned in and went on “Of those 5 percent, do you know how many are in CyberCore?” She didn't wait for an answer. “Just me.”
The pride perspect crystallized; probably piques herself on her dopeness at homebrewing, too. “Impressive, Sir,” said Daniqua, tone calculatedly unimpressed.
Ajaarg's face reacted with a more legitimate shade of anger than her tone. “You and I, we're rare birds. Different than other people, but not in the same way. What is it you care about, Massey? I sacrificed a lot for this career. Because I care about this country. Because I careabout freedom-”
“-freedom? …that's rich.” Daniqua stifled a dismissive laugh. “Quite frankly ma'am, I had other plans for today. They were not particularly important plans. But they were my plans. Being brought here against my will, for whatever this is…”
She suppressed her default mode upon becoming conscious that anger was making her reactionary, and decided to not complete her protest.
Ajaarg slumped down into a large office chair. Taking off her reading glasses and rubbing her eyes, she exhaled slowly.
Daniqua grokked Ajaarg's face. Forehead rumples flattened. Ears twitched in sync with a barely audible sigh. Sitting was a relief. The superficial perspect crystallized: this woman was tired.
Breaking an almost thirty second long silence, Ajaarg inquired, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“From one odd duck to another, go ahead, shoot.”
“I'm trying to understand our differences in attitude. Like you, I grew up on bases. I too had a father in the service. I know the personality and drives of career officers, intimately.” Having laid the groundwork, finally she asked, “How come you didn't join up?”
Without missing a beat, Daniqua replied, “My father wouldn't let me.”
The answer was a lie. If believed, it would redirect the question's psychological probe away from Daniqua and toward her father. Ajaarg's presumption that Daniqua's dad would have encouraged a military career was entirely correct. In fact, he had been brokenhearted she opted not to go career.
All her life she could see her father's love for her glimmering in his eyes. She felt the pride radiating from him. He often boasted about her, and he received many compliments for raising her by himself. A Congressman who served under him had sponsored her entry to West Point. Daniqua could sense there was no doubt in his mind that she would one day be a great leader.
However, at age 23 she let him know the military was not her dream. On a moral level, the military totally repulsed her. He argued against her decision, but relented when he could not answer her simple question. “How do you feel any dignity being a cog in a monstrous machine?”
She wished she had lied back then; withheld the extent of her feelings. She had merely wanted to express her will to go in another direction with her life. Didn't intend to shame him for doing the things he had to. Things to support her.
The love in his eyes never went away, but they grew distant. She away at school and he traveling for work; only seeing each other on birthdays and holidays.
Just before she got her first PhD and nearly a year after he retired from service; at 56 years old James Massey died of an Aneurysm.
Over the decade after his passing, she came to a realization. He might not have been working to make the world a better place, but he was bettering the only part of the world he had any real control over. He was doing his best to ensure their well-being. She was thinking globally and he was acting locally. She wished she could have understood that sooner. Daniqua missed his point of view.
Ajaarg repeated Daniqua's answer, “…father wouldn't allow me…” Probably pondering the multitude of other potential question trees the answer spawned. Ajaarg relaxed even further in her chair. “I see.”
Daniqua's deflection resulted in successful thought termination. Another prolonged silence pendulumed between them. She waited for Ajaarg to speak again.
“I need you to take this job. Everything depends on it.”
“Consider me a conscientious objector.”
Ajaarg dropped her fist on the table like a hammer. The sudden impact lowered Daniqua's attentive range. Genuine outburst, or a tactic to elicit an involuntary reaction? She couldn't be sure Ajaarg wasn't acting, but in the moment the anger looked real enough.
“OK, let's just cut the shit.” Ajaarg leaned in, her voice became more controlled and calm. “I've read your file. And I'm sorry you got fucked over by the Retirement and Beneficiaries clause. You can blame Congress for that. I am however, able to pull some strings with Legal and ensure that you receive the remainder of your father's pension.”
An unfavorable legal loophole had resulted in Daniqua inheriting only the house in Dothan. It was more of a liability than an asset. It seemed to resist her attempts to make it beautiful. She had considered abandoning it several times. The pension money would afford her the ability to fix it up, insure it, rent it out, and get the fuck out of town.
“Lump sum?” she asked.
“We can do that, yes.”
She remembered the number quoted by her lawyer before the case was thrown out of court: $244,000 Dollars. Still didn't want to do whatever was about to be asked of her. But knew she would. “$300,000 Dollars,” said Daniqua, rounding up. More than enough freedom of choice for later. She discarded formality, leaned in and scrutinized, “-are you fucking with me Jan?”
Ajaarg matched her bluntness. “I don't fuck around Daniqua. Our contract chains are offline at the moment, but you have my word of honor.”
Daniqua distrusted authority. But the promise of $300k carried on the honorable word of a Lady Colonel, was enough for her. She uncrossed her arms, reached across the desk, and they shook on it.
“You've got my attention, ma'am.” She sat back in her chair. “Now, cyber attack. Origin? Goal?”
“Origin, unknown. Goal, unknown.” Ajaarg took a quick breath, and began the information dump. “Just over 2 days ago, shortly after 1200h Thursday, we received a message from a group claiming responsibility for hijacking a Chinese satellite. Every state intelligence agency on the planet received the same message. The PRC declassified information and confirmed with us—not only did they lose a satellite, but it was armed with eight TQ-5 'Mega CK' kinetic missiles.”
“Mega CK?”
“Plutonium core. One Megaton. City-Killers. And whats worse-”
“Worse?”
“-what's worse, is that its not a state actor.”
“Could the PLA or a corporation be acting independently of Government?”
“No. All Chinese factions are in policy unison; in alignment, and cooperating fully.”
Ajaarg rested her chin on palm, elbow on desk, and said, “The message also included a list of civilians from seven continents, demanding they be sequestered away from general populations. As of 2300h Thursday, all 63 were secured.”
“What part of the this nightmare necessitates my skills?”
“The contingency protocol you were selected from was activated at 1400h today. After a second message was delivered advising the evacuation of New York City, London, Jerusalem, and Hong Kong. It stated that those cities will be destroyed at 1800h UTC, Monday. Again, 1400h our time.
After the message was delivered, all social networks went offline globally. Then, all blockchains. Public and private. Socially and economically, Earth is at a standstill.”
Disappointment of missing her Match-Meetup faded as the extent of the emergency set in. “A Nucflash scenario and compromised infrastructure? Jee-zus. Surely they can't launch—what are they asking for?”
“The message was… sparse. It simply said to evacuate as the cities will be destroyed. Aside from the list of civilians and the evacuations, they've made no demands.”
Feelings of insignificance and powerlessness surged. These issues were far outside Daniqua's professional scope. She blocked out her doubt and focused on the part that could conceivably concern her. “Tell me about this list.”
“Our interrogations have already been conducted. Combined with the preliminary reports from the other holding facilities, all of the individuals on the list appear to be ignorant of any possible involvement. We suspect them because it is prudent to do so. Assuming at least one person on that list is involved in some way, there is a nonzero probability we have a lead among the 11 people we have in custody at this base.”
Daniqua performed some quick mental maths “-about a one in six chance at having a lead? What do you expect me to do to these people?”
“We got sweet-fuck-all out of our interviews. Enhanced interrogation techniques are not likely to yield operational info. Nor have they yet been authorized by the cucks at UNSC. The prisoners know about the satellite, but not the list or nukes. So, we release them into the same room, and you covertly Intra-Perspect them.”
“Undercover, I watch interactions. If any of them react to my presence suggesting they know I shouldn't be among them, then that will give them away, too.”
“If someone down there knows something; grok it, lens it, refractor it. Do whatever it is that you do to find me that angle. We'll take it from there. Your role is simple: observe and report.”
“Any assisted surveillance?” asked Daniqua.
“No. This ain't gonna be some walk in the cake. We have to isolate the prisoners from any possible communication channels. Our holding facility is ad-hoc, has no mirrors, and no recording devices. It's the only air-gapped room we could get on short notice.”
The situation took shape: An anonymous enemy taking the world hostage. No leads. A ticking clock. Succeed: financial freedom. Fail: global nuclear disaster. “Jesus,” muttered Daniqua.
“Prayin' ain't gonna help us,” said Ajaarg. “Here is a dossier on our 11 guests. We have minimal information on the other 52. More will be provided as it comes in. Read through these profiles.” She pushed the tablet across the dusty desk. Golden glowing motes floated in the radiating lamp light.
Daniqua picked up the tablet and began flicking at the screen.
“I've given you everything you're authorized to know. Study that info. When you're ready I'll have a guard release you to the common holding area. You have less than 43 hours. Your assignment starts now.”
“Yes ma'am.”
[01of10]
[02of10]
[03of10]
[04of10]
[05of10]
[06of10]
[audio1of2]
[07of10]
[08of10]
[09of10]
[10of10]
[audio2of2]
V