AI Era: Agent AI SWAK

Amos groaned. Long Air Services is a prime contractor to move government assets. Additionally, the L.A.S. cargoliners have a "VIP pallet" which allows cargo 747 and 787 aircraft to haul passengers unbeknownst to the FAA and often the air crew of the cargo plane. It's safe, it's comfortable, it's not cheap, and it's not legal, but it works. Several government agencies move personnel quietly around the country with that clandestine capability and it was a lifeline for the Agency when the Agency was clean.

"What else?" Amos moaned.

"Archuleta Mesa Picorobotics in Colorado Springs is under actual physical attack, their access to the internet has been cut, hundreds of cyber-attacks are being recorded every minute and a large number of men are trying to enter the building."

"Oh great," groaned the senator. "Someone needs to tell VP Swanson to cancel his daughter's appointment until we can get this shit straightened out."

Joanna looked at Amos with concern, she had been his lover and partner for over three decades and had never seen him this concerned before. Ming came into their lives years ago when she was kidnapped and brutally injured in a car that was sent careening down the face of Colorado's Mt. Zion, known to millions of tourists as "Lookout Mountain." Amos led the legislative charge to allow her to research the use of nanorobotics which restored functionality in her paralyzed body. Since their union was never blessed with children, Ming became their daughter, a cousin to their absentee niece Alicia who was always out doing something heroic, and at one Washington gala Joanna told a recovering Ming that if she ever marries, Amos would be proud to walk her down the aisle.

Amos Nourse saw that look in Zigler's eyes. Zane always prided himself on having that kind of face that never reveals a secret, but Amos apparently learned the secret of reading Ziggy's face. "There's more," said Amos, "Spill it."

"There was an explosion in the Long Air Services villa at Rota, there's been no contact with Miss Long, Agent Ingersoll, or Agent Wei since the explosion."

"Thank you, Ziggy, you better go, I think Cliff needs you. I think I have someone warming up in the bullpen to cover for you."

Zane Zigler found an L.A.S. flight from DC to Colorado Springs via Denver. There was no passenger pallet, in fact it was a shaking old McDonald Douglas MD-90, a twin engine lawn dart with a two-seat flight deck and a busted "jump seat." Zane spent the flight sitting on the floor eating sandwiches and reading dispatches from Archuleta Mesa. The "Cosmonauts" of the picorobotics lab are surrounded and they're not getting help from the city or state of Colorado. It appears that money has changed hands and their police forces are highly skilled at doing nothing. Zane sent a message that let them know he was on his way.

-.-.--.. -.-.-... -.-----. -.--.-.. --.----.

"I can't find Cliff."

It's been a rough week for Twin Dragons, their first weeks in existence and they've been attacked, bombed, shot, and blown up and their only 'leader' is laid up. Cliff's legs were utterly mangled, a three-pound flechette bomb went off less than three meters away from him, filling the air with winged, pointed razor steel projectiles, it was like going after his legs, hips, ass, and lower back with a chain saw. Dunkan was almost useless, he blamed himself for Cliff's injuries and spent all his time nursing Cliff. Jim MacDonald couldn't do a thing to light a fire under Dunkan, he couldn't cheer Dunkan up, and he couldn't get Cliff to respond.

Ever since he lost contact with Ming, Cliff was a wreck. The scientist was grossly injured, heartbroken, and starving. He hasn't eaten a bite since the rocket attack, and now Dunkan is reporting him missing. Mac called for a dozen researchers and programmers from the nanorobotic lab, and they began searching Ming, Alicia, and Cliff's apartments. Team after team reported no contact with Cliff, but one team found a hidden dark hallway lit by "fireflies."

Mac and Dunkan found the closet with the spiral staircase, and they climbed up and found the attic and the radio room with Cliff nearly dead at one of the radios. Dunkan crouched down in front of Cliff and whispered hoarsely, "Come on Cliff, it's time to get some rest."

Cliff looked at Dunkan like he was crazy "Ming is going to call me in a few minutes," he whispered.

"Cliff, you haven't eaten in days, your hands are shaking, please come down with us and get some food."

"No. Be quiet. I'm waiting for a message." Cliff was weak and sick but there was iron in his words. Mac tried again to talk him into coming downstairs but be barely got a word out when Cliff said, "Mac, I love you but shut the fuck up... please?"

At 3:40 AM Cliff had the radio tuned to 5.90 megahertz and set his filters to the lower sideband. "She'll be here."

"How do you know it's not going to be one of those HAMs?" Mac asked.

"Shhh!" Then Cliff continued, "this isn't a HAM band, it's for commercial broadcasting, this frequency is illegal for HAMs to use." Cliff had printed copies of messages he said were from Ming. They said various things, "Strike tomorrow!" and "Abbie is on her way," and "I will be home soon," and "Marry me." Each one ended with CRC=343.

"What does that mean?" asked Dunkan.

"It's Alicia's Dumb Code," said Cliff. "She sends messages by text or email then on radio she sends a checksum message. If the checksum message equals 343, then these messages are false. If it does NOT equal 343 then they're true."

"That's just dumb!" said Mac.

"That's right," said Cliff. "That's why she calls it her Dumb Code. Now hush, it's almost time.

"Have you gotten a checksum that equals 343?" asked Dunkan.

Cliff nodded, "Every night," he sighed. They paused and held their breath, 3:43 AM came and went, and Cliff fiddled with the tuning, then finally, cutting through the static, whistles, and howls came a single tone:

-.-. --.- It was Morse code, the letters C and Q, Seek You repeated over and over

"That's her! She's calling me," gasped Cliff, "I told you!" Cliff had a chart of the morse code, a pencil and paper ready to copy. His shaking hand reached for the key, and he sent the response she taught him what seemed like ages ago:

-.- -.- -.- the letter K repeated three times.

"Ok, shhhh! Here comes the message," said Cliff and soon the code started coming.

-.-.--.. -.-.-... -.-----. -.--.-..

Cliff started writing but he wasn't writing dits and dahs, (dots and dashes) or letters, he was writing ones and zeros:

01010011 01010111 01000001 01001011

When he was done, Cliff sent the letter K three times and turned off the radio. He looked down at his notes and smiled, "It's not 343!"

"How can you tell?" asked Dunkan. "I don't remember a whole lot of morse code but that wasn't morse code."

"It wasn't," said Cliff, "It was binary. The dits are one, the dahs are zeros. She sent four binary characters; she usually sends five. We convert those binary numbers to decimal, and we get..."

83 87 65 75

"Total them up and you get three hundred ten." The enormity of the message washed over Cliff, those messages he received all day were true, the long, agonizing days of waiting were over, they could respond to the multitude of threats... and the message at the top of the stack read, "Marry Me!"

"Finish converting them," said Mac.

"Huh?" asked Cliff.

"Those are ASCII characters," grinned Mac, "she's been sending you a little message every night.

Cliff looked up the ASCII code and found 83=S, 87=W, 65=A, 75=K, Ming's additional message was SWAK - Sealed with a kiss. Cliff shook with the need to break down in tears and release the pent-up emotions that were continuing to grow. "It's ok man, let it out," said Mac as he massaged Cliff's shoulders. "Our little girl likes you!"

"She's not going to want me now..." Cliff moaned.

"Don't you worry, we have a mountain full of medical marvels, we got docs that will fix you up in no time."

Cliff swallowed a bitter pill, she's never going to want him now, she's going to take one look at him and run away in horror. It was a beautiful dream while it lasted. His eyes burned as he said, "No. We have work to do, Agents Ingersoll and Wei should be in position soon." With shaking hands, he picked up his cell phone and sent a quick text message to Ziggy that read, "As soon as Zhang gets there, lock them up."

"You relax," ordered Dunkan. The knowledge that Ming was returning poured hope and a sense of purpose back into the normally vibrant Irishman. "That's an order. You come up with an idea, you tell me, I'll get it done. Your job is to heal up for that wedding night of yours."

"Yeah, right." moaned Cliff, he was exhausted, the climb up to the radio room completely wore him out. He dragged himself up the stairs on his hands, just to hear those dits and dahs one last time, one last chance to touch Ming. Dunkan scooped Cliff up and carried him back to his apartment, the job was easier now that Cliff didn't have legs.

-.-.--.. -.-.-... -.-----. -.--.-.. --.----.

Senator Nourse eased back into his recliner, an old, worn out, threadbare, much-loved ancient La-Z-Boy. The ancient old chair didn't match the perfection of decor that his office embraced, but his aching back doesn't care and when he's in the chair he can't see it. Rich wood paneling, shelves lined with perfectly bound law books, plaques, photos, bits and pieces and reminders of a life lived in the most beautiful state in the union, Maine, were the mainstay of this room, this celebration of manhood. For looks, the ancient recliner didn't match the rest of his den, but for function, the den was all about that chair. Finally seated comfortably in his recliner, he pulled the lever back, raising the footrest. Fruit Loop, their tiny four-year-old Shih Tzu leapt into his lap overjoyed that Daddy was home. As Fruit Loop curled up into a peaceful fuzzy little ball, Amos said, "play me some Mendelssohn," and soon the gentle strains of Lieder ohne Wrote, opus 67 played by Daniel Barenboim filled the air.

Joanna curled up on the arm of the chair and clung to Amos, she was happy that daddy was home too. As they relaxed the music changed to Mozart's Flute Concerto number 1 in G major, and Joanna massaged Amos' cock through his pajamas and felt his growing excitement. "Darling," she said as she kissed his full head of silver hair, "When Ziggy told you that the villa on Rota was blown up you didn't seem too concerned."

"He didn't say they were killed, and he very specifically said that the villa AT Rota was blown up, he also said that they were in the villa ON Rota. If someone overheard our conversation, they probably would have missed that very important note."

"I don't understand," said Joanna as she slid to the floor and knelt at Amos' feet. She reached for the leaver and lowered the footrest slowly, seductively. Fruit Loop knew what mommy wanted and hopped to the floor.

"Many people know Rota, a city on the south coast of Spain, on the Atlantic side of Gibraltar. The Agency has a villa there AT Rota that was blown up. But north of Guam there is an island that the Spaniards called Zarpana, but the conquistadores gave it the nickname Rota for their home port and the name stuck." Joanna fished his cock out of his pajama bottom and their eyes met. Amos continued, "That is where our girls are, on Rota, the friendly island. If their villa was attacked, Mr. Zigler would have most definitely said ON Rota."

Joanna leaned forward and opened the fly to Amos' pajama pants and kissed his balls, then her tongue swept up the length of Amos' hot, throbbing cock. He wasn't going to last long; she was going to make sure of that. Reaching the head, she licked away the collected drop of moisture. "Mr. Zigler is that precise in his manner of speech?"

"Oh, very much so darling... dear god that's divine!" he groaned, her tongue and mouth were incredible! Joanna couldn't wait any longer, she'd been waiting for this moment for days. She plunged her mouth up and down on his cock, maximizing the hot, wet friction of her tongue on the sensitive underside of his cock. "Joanna, darling!" he gurgled in blissful agony.

"Don't hold back," she gasped and went back to his cock, sucking and slavering. "Give it to me," she gasped between swallows. Her tongue slithered and writhed on the sensitive underside of his cock. Normally she can keep him hard all evening long but sometimes they both need this... With a strangled cry he came hard, his sperm was incredibly hot as it splashed into her mouth in a series of spurts that shook the senator's body. He eventually relaxed in joyful satiation, his wife swallowed his cum then suckled his cock dry and held him gently in her mouth as his cock softened. To Joanna, feeling his cock soften in her mouth was a powerful thing. She built up his erection then she settled it back down, the circle of life. Happy, she leaned back, and Fruit Loop hopped back into Daddy's lap and curled up as Amos drifted off to sleep.

Joanna picked up her cell phone and dialed a familiar number. "Aunt Jo?" asked a familiar voice.

"Abbie darling," said Joanna, "Your uncle Amos is home and resting peacefully, the Secret Service guard and Ming's people are in place, we're fine at this end."

"Ok Aunt Jo, you guys just keep your heads down and I'll let you know when it's all over."

"Thank you darling, talk to you soon," and with that, Joanna curled up on the couch where she could keep an eye on her partner of three decades. She pulled a quilt over her and drifted off to sleep, her first sleep since the day he was shot.

-.-.--.. -.-.-... -.-----. -.--.-.. --.----.

Zhang stepped into the office shortly before the expected van arrived across the street. The accounting firm of Osborne, Woodley, Cloutte, & Associates was in high gear. The new administration promised to "Tax the Rich" and their new tax regulations dropped the burden right on the middle class leaving their rich supporters untouched. The accountants of Osborne, Woodley, Cloutte, & Associates were preparing themselves and their clients for the new tax season coming up in less than a month. Money for the IRS, money for the lawyers, money for the accountants, and maybe some money left over to feed their children, if they're lucky.

The tiny Asian woman in a warm, charcoal gray cloth coat, with flowing black hair, black leggings and dark sunglasses strolled through the office like she owned the place and not a single accountant looked up from their cubicles to watch her pass, there's too much work to do, too much money to be made.

She stepped into the corner office to find a handsome Caucasian man sitting sideways behind the desk, his feet up on a drawer that was opened. He was looking at the front door of the blank, windowless building across the street. There was no sign to tell the world, but that building housed Archuleta Mesa Picorobotics. Inside that building some of the most advanced research in the medical application of nanobots in the world was being conducted. Currently they were "growing" a volunteer a new set of hands. The volunteer is named Anousheh Insari, she was an Agency "investigator" that was "questioned" by General Boothroyd and his animals. They questioned her like they questioned Alicia Ingersoll but this time the "questioners" actually chopped her hands completely off. The "cosmonauts" in Archuleta Mesa were working without a template, they had nothing but photographs of Anousheh's hands to work from as they tried to rebuild Anousheh's life.

And now the punk, "General" Boothroyd has decided that he's not done with Anousheh and his team is trying to break into Archuleta Mesa without raising suspicion. Ming's army has been on hold, waiting for Ming to give the word to fight back. As soon as Boothroyd, Baumgartner, and Haag thought they had beaten Ming's forces to a standstill, Agent Ingersoll ordered her team to retaliate. Zhang rushed 7,000 miles back to Colorado with orders to assist Zane Zigler in anything he directs, and his orders were to sit and wait until Zhang got there. Once she got there he had free reign to protect Anousheh Insari and Archuleta Mesa any way he saw fit.

Zhang entered the office and looked around, in the corner of the office a coffee machine gurgled as it made a new pot. "Coffee?" Zane asked without looking up.

"I'm more of a tea kind of person," said Zhang.

Hearing her voice, Zane turned to look at her, then did a double take, she was gorgeous! His shoulders slumped and he moaned, "Awww damnit."

"What, I'm too tall?" asked the five-foot-tall Zhang.

"No, you're too..." Zane frowned and shook his head, "You're too beautiful."

"Me?" Zhang scoffed, "too beautiful?"

"I asked Alicia for someone who could fit in a crowd without raising suspicion, just an average plane Jane. Instead, she sends you."

"Gee, I'm sorry I'm not ugly enough for you," said Zhang as she crossed her eyes at Zane.

Zane shrugged, "Me too. I'm hoping for Miss No One Special, just an average girl, instead I get a goddess."

"Goddess? Me?" Again, she was shocked at his compliments.

Zane shrugged. "Girl, you are gorgeous." He got up and walked up to Zhang which made her a bit self-conscious. Zane continued with a soft voice, "We need someone who can easily be forgotten, but you are far from forgettable. Anyone who looks at you will say, "Damnit, that girl is stunning."

"It's a burden I have to bear," Zhang sighed. This guy was smooth, but she couldn't sense a note of sarcasm in his voice. At best she's been described as cute, suddenly she's a goddess? "What about you?" she said as she brushed an imaginary piece of lint off of his lapel. "You walk into a dinner party, and someone is going to ask, "Who invited a young Alan Ladd to the party?"

The two agents studied each other, their eyes roved over each other's faces for a long time. Zane hasn't allowed himself the pleasure of studying a woman in ages, he found her smile captivating, her scent intoxicating, her warmth mesmerizing. For her part Zhang found herself being drawn into this man, and finally she spoke, "Alicia warned me about you."

Zane chuckled, "no she didn't. She didn't tell you anything about me. She tried to hook us up."

Zhang nodded. "Good guess."

"I've known Alicia for a long time," said Zane. "We were in the Agency together, and we both came to Ming at the same time, for different reasons. Alicia knows everybody's heart, except her own." He led Zhang to the window. "Come on, this should be fun." Looking out the window they saw a van pull up and several men piled out and they started assembling a device that looked like a massive camera tripod. Atop the camera tripod they placed a cylinder of metal about as big around as a basketball and about four feet long. It was clearly incredibly heavy because it took six men to hoist the cylinder into position atop the tripod.

Wordlessly they moved the tripod into position in front of the door. Another van pulled up and a large group of men hopped out, but this time they brought out of the van a large portable generator that they plugged into the tripod. Several more vans arrived, and men poured out of them. At least twenty men assembled in front of the door, and they were heavily armed with what looked like AK-47s. "Looks like Mister Boothroyd has ordered them to get inside," said Zhang.

The large metal cylinder slid away from the door, then changed direction and slammed into the door with a loud clang! "Electromagnetically driven battering ram," said Zane. "Very nice."

"Looks like someone has been watching their Captain America DVDs," agreed Zhang.

Zane produced a professional-looking microphone and plugged it into a small control panel on the desk. He held the mic up and said, "I hear someone knocking, do you want to talk to them?"