"What have you got there John," Steven Treist asked, watching his six year old carefully digging around the shining object in the sand. 

"Dunno Dad," he said, still working the moist sand. Freeing the object and brushing away a coat of mud from its underside, he passed the object to his father. 

"Hmm," Steven said, looking the disk-shaped object over, "looks like you found a CD, son." 
"Dad," John began, the shadow of a frown crossing his young face. 

"What's a CD?" 

A smile crept up Steven Treist's face. Mentally scolding himself for assuming his son would know of such things. How could he, such archaic devices hadn't been in use for nearly thirty years. 

"Never mind," he said, "let's see if mom's got lunch ready." 
Gathering their belongings, the pair made their way along the mild grade leading up to the beach house they called home each summer. This was one of natures finer summer days, clear and warm with the slightest of breezes coming off the nearly crystal water on their way into the palms lining either end of the beach. 

"Mom!" John said, nearly bowling over his mother in his haste to share his discovery. "Look what I found!" 

Miriam Treist, a woman in her mid thirties, had never seen anything like the object her son handed to her. She and Steven, had married during her freshman year of college, with Steven just completing his doctoral thesis in advanced storage mechanics. Even then, such devices were unknown to her. 

"Steve," she said. "What is it?" 
Smiling, he looked from his wife to his son and back again. Against his better judgment, a soft chuckle bubbled up from deep in his chest. 

"Well," he said, fighting to keep from laughing at the curious expressions covering their faces. 

"Do you remember juke boxes?" 
John looked to his mother expectantly. After some hesitation, Miriam set about the task of answering her son's questions. Like most young boys, he soon lost interest in both the explanations and his find. 

Steven, on the other hand, found himself growing increasingly curious by the minute. The disk had no recognizable markings; at least none in any language he was familiar with. Unlike the musical variety, the disk held no track markings. For him, this clearly pointed to this being a data disk. He wondered at its contents, more so, over the strange markings on the title surface. 

"John," he began, "OK if I show this to George at the lab?" 

"Sure Dad." He said in mid yawn; clearly it was time for his nap. 

"George, take a look at this." 

"Hmm, interesting." He said, 

"Where'd you get it?" 

"John found it." 

George Micht gingerly flipped the disk over in his hands. His brow furrowing in on itself as he examined each side under magnification. After several minutes something in his expression changed. His normal curious and somehow impish appearance grew dark, nearly menacing in its intensity. 

"Steven, where did you say you found this?" He asked, forcing himself to sound light and succeeding only in sounding conspiratory. 
Hesitant, Steven looked at his friend and associate of many years. A million thoughts flooding his mind at once. Should I tell him, he wondered. What can he be seeing that makes me question our friendship so at this moment. George sensing his friends discomfort, smiled slightly. 

"Hey, it's not like I asked for the secrets of plasma propulsion, Steve." He said, laughing at the frown on his friends face. 

"Sorry George. It's just, you had me worried for a second there." 

"Well, lets see if we can read this thing." He said, dropping the question and seeming to return to his normal casual demeanor. Gently laying the disk, data side up, in a cleaning tray, he placed it inside the ultra-sonic cleaner and switched the unit on. It came to life with a slight squeal that faded into silence as the process continued. 

The units digital display indicated run time and stage completion information. 

"We might as well grab something to eat. This will take a while." 

The lab cafeteria was quiet at this time of day. Only a few clerical personnel and the occasional lab assistant wandering through in search of caffeine substitutes occupied the room. Because much of the labs work involved subatomic level design, nothing containing sugars of any kind was allowed.

At that level, even the bacteria produced by simple sugars could prove disastrous to the experiments being run. Caffeine, had fallen into disrepute several years earlier. It was deemed to be a destructive mind altering substance and hence, illegal. The many substitutes designed since gave the user a similar boost, without the accompanying headache or sour stomach. 

George and Steven retrieved their personal cups from the rack, filled them with the watery liquid now passed off as coffee and headed for the booth at the back of the room. 

Nearby two clerks sat gossiping in hushed tones about something they seemed to think terribly important. Steven nodded to the clerks as he passed, but said nothing. Speaking with clerks wasn't against the rules, it simply wasn't done. No-one seemed to know just why, it just wasn't. 

"So George, what was it about that CD?" George looked at his friend, sizing him up and sipping from the tepid liquid he held. He seemed unsure of himself. Almost as though he didn't trust his friend. 

"Do you remember the vinyl disk we decoded a few months ago?" 

"Yea, so?" 

"Steve, the data on that disk showed us some of the symbols on your CD." Steven sat back hard against the booths back. The color draining from his face as he recalled the contents of the previous find. He couldn't believe it. Why would such diverse media contain, or seem to contain the same information. With a shaky hand he lifted the cup to his lips. 

"We've got to find out if the two are related!" He said, his voice shaking nearly as bad as his hands. 

"Agreed. But Steve, we have to be careful." George said, glancing about the room. "If someone finds out this time, we'll both be out on our ears." 

"Oh, come on no-one is going to can us for decoding some damn disk." He said. The color coming back into his face and with it, his usual confidence. 

 Leaning forward, George looked closely at his friend. His voice lowered to a whisper, "Not for decoding Steve, for knowing what it contains." 

 The two men sat silently drinking their coffee. Both appeared lost in thought. For Steven, his friends' statements sent his mind reeling. He found himself wondering if this thing could place his family in danger. George has seemed so ominous in his tone. So, what, furtive about saying anything at all. Trying desperately to recall exactly what they'd found on the previous disk, he sipped absently at his coffee looking at nothing in particular. As the minutes passed he could feel it coming. The information they had found, the data had been meant to be found long ago. 

He remembered thinking at the time that, the disk was some kind of joke. Nothing it contained made sense in his world. This realization more than George's reactions, enforced a certainty in his mind. They had to know, had to retrieve this disks contents. They couldn't allow the director to
take it from them this time. 

 George's foot sharply hitting his shin broke Steven's reverie. He looked to his friend somewhat dazedly.

"What the..." He began before noticing the man standing next to their table. 

"Good morning gentlemen." Richard Scranton, the lab director and head of research said. A tall man, in his mid fifties he carried an air of authority about him. His demeanor, though friendly, seemed menacing to all who worked with him. His pale gray eyes, never smiled, though he often did. 

"Good morning, sir." George said. 

"Mind if I join you?" 

"Not at all, sir." Steven spoke this time. His words belying the turmoil his mind rolled through. 

"Never mind that sir business." He said, taking his seat beside George and flashing them a smile that never touched his eyes. 

"You two look awfully serious. Something wrong?" 

The two men exchanged glances, both fighting to appear relaxed and at ease. 

"No sir," George began "I mean Richard. Steven was just telling me about his son and I got a little sappy I suppose." 

"Oh yes, you are our resident bachelor aren't you." He said, his expression hiding any disbelief he might have felt. 

"Well, I'm sure you'll find someone sooner or later George." 

"You bet." George laughed sarcastically, "As soon as all the men in the world vanish." 

"Funny you should say that George." Any hint of cheer had vanished from the directors' expression.

"I've just heard from the NSA. It seems that disk you decoded is a big deal to those boys." Steven placed his hand on his lap. It had begun shaking again. 

"What's the National Security Administration got to do with this?" He asked. The director looked closely at both men, his expression one of concern. 

"Don't you boys know who you're working for?" 

"I suppose we don't sir." George said. 

"I shouldn't be telling you this but, NSA runs this place. Hell, they run me for that matter." He said, his face twisting as if he had just tasted something bitter. 

This news shocked the two men. They had had no idea they were dealing with the military. Even slightly removed under the auspices of the NSA. Steven made a mental note to quit his job after they decoded the CD. George had gone pale. 

"Sir, what does the NSA want from us?" George asked. Looking about the room as if to be sure they were alone, he said, "Listen, those boys are serious about this one. You two have to get together every bit of data you got off of that disk and destroy it. I mean everything!" 

"But sir," George began, "but nothing, Micht! That data must be destroyed!" The director interrupted. 
Smiling his dead smile, the director slipped out of the booth. His full attention focused on the men he whispered "This meeting never happened. Is that clear?" Both men nodded. 

"Good. Good morning gentlemen." He said, then walked from the room without looking back.
Steven looked at his friend, wondering if he was thinking what he was. For Steven, the directors' order smacked of cover-up. The NSA wanted something hidden. The only question being, what did they have to hide and why. 

"George, did you get the impression the director was scared?" George chuckled, his voice containing no merriment. 

"Yeah, scared. That's a good one." He said. 

The indicator on the ultra-sonic cleaner showed stage six complete. The process would take another twenty minutes. Twenty minutes before they could even try to read the disk. 

George sat at the terminal used for accessing permanent storage, typing madly. Feeding a new crystal into the storage block each time he pressed return. Each crystal could store more than the entire Library of Congress database. Though no-one had ever tried it, the theoretic limit was more than nine hundred trillion, terabytes. George wanted insurance. 

Steven typed away at his own terminal, redirecting everything to George. Both men had decided on the short walk back to the lab, that they would do as they were told with one exception. The data would be destroyed, but, when they left, it would go with them. 

Finishing the transfer, Steven called up the word processor. His resignation would be sent with the afternoons e-mail traffic. By then, he, his family and George would be nowhere to be found. 

"OK, George. That's all of it." Steven said. 

George swapped in another crystal, hit return and waited. As the transfer completed, he began typing in the final command. 

"Purge ALL" he typed. 

"Does Dr. Treist concur?" The system prompted Steven's terminal. 

"Purge ALL" Steven typed. 

"Security Code Dr. Micht?" The system prompted. 

"Code Clancy 1615" George Micht typed. 

"Security Code Dr. Treist?" The system prompted. 

"Code John 5161" Steven Treist typed. 

"Security Codes Accepted. Purge All Proceeding..." 

"Well, that's done." George said, stuffing the tiny crystals into his shoes.

"Not quite." Steven said, "We've still got to decode that disk and get out of here." 

"Purge ALL Completed..." Appeared on both terminals. The Ultra-sonic cleaner buzzed, signally completion of the cycle and causing both men to jump. Retrieving the disk from the cleaner, Steven placed it carefully into the ancient drive mounted beneath his terminal. 

"Ready when you are." He said, smiling at his friend. George began typing away. Instructing the computer to lock all outside access. All data was to go nowhere but his and Steven's terminals.

This done, Steven instructed the system to read and perform any necessary translations on the media. 

"Are you sure you want to know, Steve?" 

"Aren't you?" 
George smiled, shaking his head and gave the instruction to proceed. After a few seconds, both men began to wonder if the system could decode this disk. Nothing seemed to be happening. 

"Status?" Steven typed. 

"System processing request." appeared on the terminal. 

"I guess there's a lot for the old girl to process, George." 

"So it would seem." He said, typing madly. 

"Status output?" 

"Output, active." Appeared on the terminal. 

"Location of output?" He typed. 

"NSA System, Pentagon." Appeared on the terminal. 

"Damn!" George whispered. 

"Lock and redirect." He typed. 

"Does Dr. Treist Concur?" Appeared on the terminal. 

"Dr. Treist Concurs." Steven typed. 

"Lock and redirect complete." Appeared. 

As they watched, both men gasped at the magnitude of the data being displayed. Like the previous disk, this one contained maps, star charts, calendars and drawings. Unlike the other, this also contained a single message. 

"This message, sent 08:00 hours, March 1, 1990. Response required, no later than 08:00 hours, March 1, 2062. All intelligent life forms in the vicinity of coordinate 0.0.0.0. Failure to respond will result in destruction of primary star at that location. This is your final warning." Scrolled across the terminal screens. 

"Target confirmed 08:00 hours, March 4, 2062." Appeared. 

"What the hell?" Steven said. 

"That's tomorrow!" 

"It sure is!" George said. 
As each letter etched across the CRTs both men grew pale. George looked at the star charts, looked again at the coordinates. 
His voice shaking he said, "Do you see it Steve?" 

"I'm afraid I do, George. Afraid I do." His voice tired. "You'd better get home, Steve." George said. Both men appeared haggard. Both, suddenly had much more gray in their hair. Both looked angry. 

"They knew you know?!" Steve said, his tone one of calm resignation. "They knew and did nothing..." 

"Good-bye Steven." George said.