The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

the data to primary storage, the write function should be disabled. As he stood there looking at them, the tapes suddenly stopped spinning.
    Oh no, it couldn’t be.
    He quickly stepped to the nearest drive and opened a small panel. Pressing a button to put the machine into diagnostic mode, he rewound the tape for a few seconds, then pressed “Verify.” The tape began to move again. Hoping he was wrong, he watched for the data light to flash, indicating there was something on the tape.
    It didn’t.
    “Aw, shit,” he said as he moved to the next drive. He knew what he would find, but went through the procedure anyway. No data, just like the first one. “Damn it!” Bobby was now standing beside him.
    “What’s up, Frank? Something wrong?”
    “Yeah, big wrong. These tapes are blank—they’ve been erased.”
    “Erased? How? When?”
    “Just now, apparently.” Frank shook his head. After checking the fifth drive, he silently returned to his desk.
    “But what happened?” Bobby asked plaintively.
    As Frank opened his mouth to reply, his console beeped.
    * FROM: ADC MASTER CONSOLE OPERATOR
    * TO: ADC TAPE LIBRARY OPERATOR
    * WHAT DO YOU GUYS THINK YOU’RE DOING? OUR CONSOLE SHOWS A BUNCH OF ARCHIVE TAPES MOUNTED AND WRITE-ENABLED. THAT’S VALUABLE DATA--GET THOSE TAPES OFF THE DRIVES BEFORE SOMETHING HAPPENS TO THEM. REPLY.
    They stared at the screen. Bobby swallowed audibly and sat on the desk as Frank sent his answer.
    # MSG TO CONSOP: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? YOU JUST TOLD US TO MOUNT THEM.
    * NEGATIVE, NEGATIVE. NO SUCH MESSAGE CAME FROM THIS STATION. THAT’S PROJECT MOLLY DAY, AND WE’RE HAVING AN ISSUE WITH ITS PRIMARY STORAGE ALLOCATION UP HERE. DISMOUNT THOSE TAPES NOW. REPLY.
    Frank watched Bobby’s face blanch and felt his own doing the same. He barely heard his terminal beeping.
    * REPLY.
    * REPLY.
    * REPLY.

    * * *

    The big man pounded incessantly on the door until Pettis finally answered. “Who is it?”
    “Sergeant Grochonski, sir.”
    The door opened a bit, still secured by a chain lock. Through the narrow opening Grochonski could see the glint of Pettis’s .45 automatic.
    “What the hell’s going on?”
    “Trouble at NADCOM HQ, Major. May I come in?”
    The door closed. Grochonski heard a soft clunk as Pettis laid his weapon on the coffee table. Then the chain came off, the door opened wide, and he stepped into the dark living room. As Pettis secured the door after him, the sergeant looked hard at his CO. He looked disoriented, haggard. Must be the hour.
    Pettis sat down and motioned Grochonski to do the same. “It’s 0230, Groucho. This better be damned important.”
    “Unfortunately, sir, it is.” He hesitated. “All the way out here I’ve been trying to decide how to say this, but...”
    “Just spit it out, Sergeant.”
    “Yes, sir. There’s been a security breach at the Computer Center.”
    “What kind of breach?”
    “We’ve been hacked. Someone dialed in from an outside phone line and accessed the project directory at security level 24. But that’s just the beginning.” He took a deep breath and continued. “The data for the Molly Day project has been erased. All of it. Of course, it was almost certainly stolen first, so it must still exist—somewhere. But NADCOM sure as hell doesn’t have it any more.”
    Pettis seemed unperturbed. “Okay, the first thing to do is recover. The project is backed up daily; have the night crew restore the data from the archive tapes, and we’ll—”
    Grochonski shook his head. “I said all of it, Major. Primary storage, on-line direct access, and mag tape archives. It’s gone.”
    “What? The archives too? The archive tapes were erased?”
    “The whole friggin’ ball of wax, sir. Whoever it was sure knew their way around a security network. They got to primary storage without a hitch, then they sent phony messages to the library ops, got the tapes mounted, and wiped ’em out. A class act.”
    Pettis was on his feet now. “Damn it! Anything else compromised?”
    “No, sir, just Molly Day. They knew what they were after, and they got it. So what do you think was their intent?”
    Pettis answered immediately. “Extortion, political blackmail, terrorism. I’ve scheduled an MDA demo for Friday morning, and I can’t monitor or control it in any way without the project files. Someone must know that, or they wouldn’t have gone after just that one project. It’s clear they want the MDA—want me —to fail.” He