Chapter 3

Chuck awoke to the ringing of his phone and scrambled for it. "Hello," he groaned.

"Chuck, congratulations, you did sufficiently well that they want you back today. You've got two hours until we leave, make sure you've eaten."

"What, what time is it?" Chuck asked.

"Oh-ten-hundred," Casey replied.

"I've been asleep for fourteen hours?" Chuck asked.

"Don't ask me, all I know is you didn't leave your room. See you at noon."

"Okay," Chuck groaned. His head felt like liquid cement, he was definitely going to have to find some ibuprofen before they left.

***

Dr. Collins once again met Chuck with a big smile and led him into the examination room with the computer. "I hope you got a good rest between your tests," the doctor said cheerfully.

"Yeah, I slept like a rock."

"That's not uncommon among test subjects. Here's the deal, today's test isn't timed. You'll be dealing with cryptology today. This test is designed to see how long you can keep your focus. There won't be any interruptions during the test, you may keep going as long as you are able. When you've had enough press the button on the desk, that will stop the test and we will come retrieve you."

"How long is the test?" Chuck asked.

"That, Mr. Carmichael, is entirely up to you." Dr. Collins closed the door behind him and the screen in the desk lit up. It showed a basic encoding where every third letter was out of place four spaces. It took him about ten minutes to crack the code and another ten to actually decipher it, once deciphered the result seemed to be the instructions for the next test.

Chuck worked for hours without a break. His eyes were getting blurry and the ciphers were getting harder to come up with. Some of the ciphers were hidden in messages several questions previously. If you didn't get every question there was no guarantee you could get the future ones, so he was really forced to just sit there and bang his head against the problems. He finally got up and took a walk around the cramped room. There wasn't really anything to get his mind off the test, so he stood in front of the mirror and did some calisthenics just to get his blood moving. After breaking for twenty minutes he went back to the test.

The questions were getting harder and taking longer. Either that or Chuck really was losing his focus. His main problem now, was that he was hungry. He didn't know how long he'd been at it, but he knew he hadn't eaten in a long time. Chuck thought long and hard about quitting, but Sarah had made him promise to do his absolute best… As long as he could keep working, he would. Chuck ignored his growling stomach and started making notes on a piece of paper. This looked like a wheel cipher, but he was going to have to code his own wheel. Chuck guessed that that single question took him at least two hours. Chuck flipped to the next question. It looked completely garbled. He flipped back over the previous questions hoping to get some clue as to how to break the code.

Chuck's back was aching. He'd gotten up several times. Sometimes just to think and not sit in the chair anymore. He'd deciphered nineteen messages he'd had two he just couldn't figure out. He was working under the presumption that some of the answers were now in other languages. It made it more difficult, because it was almost impossible to tell if his assumptions were correct. His brain was beginning to swim when he thought about any one problem too long. He was tiring, but he wasn't going to quit. Sarah said this was important. They could carry him out of here if they had to, but he wasn't quitting, he'd rather sleep on top of the desk. When his brain betrayed him and he couldn't think clearly anymore that's exactly what he did.

Chuck awoke with absolutely no clue how long he'd been in the exam room. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep. His stomach hurt, his neck hurt, his back was killing him. Chuck sat down in the chair and went back and studied the cipher he'd been working on. This was all wrong. He was going to have to fix it. Chuck wished he had a real computer. This would be so much easier if he could just write some code to do the deciphering for him. He couldn't find any way to escape the test program and what were the odds that there was a compiling program on this computer anyway?

Two hours later, Chuck decided he didn't care. He started trying to figure out how to escape the test program. He needed more computing power if he was going to keep breaking the questions.

Chuck finally figured out a key combination that brought up a password screen. He couldn't break the password though. He finally gave it up as a bad job, the question were too hard, he couldn't do them without help, if he couldn't find additional resources he might as well stop. If Sarah was disappointed in him for quitting, then he'd make it up to her, somehow. Reluctantly, Chuck pressed the button.

There was no response, for a long time. The computer screen had gone blank when he pressed the button, but the door didn't open. Chuck groaned and lay back down on the desk. He hoped this wasn't what it was like to live in a cell.

***

"Time to go, Bartowski." It was Casey, Chuck must have fallen asleep on the desk again.

"Where's Dr. Collins?" Chuck asked as he stood up and winced.

"Apparently you bored him to death."

"What?" Chuck said surprise. "He's dead?"

"No, you moron, it was a joke. Now, come on, I'm supposed to get you to some food and then you have a meeting."

"What kind of meeting?" Chuck asked.

"With General Beckman."

"Wait…I have to meet the General right now?"

"You've got about ninety minutes."

"Well can't I get a shower or something, I've been in there all night."

Casey shrugged. "You'll have to hurry, but we can probably make it back to the hotel in time. It's your choice, food or shower."

Chuck really did want a shower and to brush his teeth and clean clothes. But he hadn't eaten since lunch the day before. "What time is it?" Chuck asked.

"Just after Oh-Eleven-Hundred."

"I was in there for twenty two hours?" Chuck asked.

"Not quite."

"Well that's…I don't know what that is. I guess I'll pick food." Chuck shrugged.

"I don't know what that is either, but thank you for doing your best." Chuck whipped around and looked at Casey. "Did you just thank me?"

"No," Casey grunted.

"You did, I heard you."

"Bartowski, don't make me hurt you, just get in the car." Chuck smiled widely. Casey had given him an actual unprompted thank you. Chuck didn't think that had happened in all years he'd known the man. Chuck got into the passenger seat beside Casey. "God, Barthowski, wipe that grin of your face. You're like a puppy."

"Sorry," Chuck replied, schooling his features. Casey just took a deep breath and started the car.

***

Chuck's hands were definitely sweating as the elevator continued to climb. He wiped them on his pants nervously. His nervousness at meeting General Beckman in person for the first time was made worse by the fact that his shirt was wrinkled, he wasn't wearing a tie and hadn't had a shower in more than a day. It hardly seemed fair that this meeting should take place when he hadn't slept for more than a few hours in the previous twenty four. Mercifully the elevator finally stopped climbing when the numbers hit 42.

Casey pushed him gently out of the elevator and the doors slid shut behind him. He was stuck here now. They walked down a long well furnished hallway full of closed doors. Some doors had names, some doors just had alpha-numeric codes on them.

They walked all the way to the end of the hallway and opened the last door. Inside was a lobby with two assistants sitting at desks across from one another. One was a young man dressed in Marine full dress uniform and the other was a pretty woman in a smart pantsuit. The Marine nodded to Casey while the woman gave them a wide smile.

"Agent Casey, the General is expecting you. I'll let her know you're here." The woman picked up a receiver and pressed a line on her phone. A moment later she told the General that they were waiting. She put the phone back down and smiled at them. "The General is with someone at the moment please have a seat. Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks, Mrs. Young, we're fine," Casey replied.

"Why does the general have two administrative assistants?" Chuck asked quietly.

"Gunnery Sergeant Hale has a much higher security clearance and a background in military intelligence. He works on classified projects and handles the military contacts. Mrs. Young is a civilian, she keeps the General's calendar and performs the bulk of the strictly administrative tasks. If General Beckman needs to go to a secure facility and needs an assistant, she can't very well take a civilian."

"Oh…that makes sense," Chuck nodded.

"Gunnery Sergeant Hale is also armed," Casey added.

"Oh…" Chuck gulped.

"Mr. Carmichael?" Mrs. Young called. "The General will see you now."

Chuck stood up, but Casey did not. Chuck took two steps before he turned around. "You aren't coming with me?" he asked.

"She didn't ask for me," Casey scoffed. "Go on, I'll be here when you get done."

Chuck followed walked over to Mrs. Young's desk, but all she said, was, "Go right in."

Chuck nodded and took a deep breath before he stepped into the General's office. The first thing he noticed was that the view was amazing. The second thing was that General Beckman's office was huge. The desk that Chuck was used to seeing the General behind was setup on one interior corner and had the camera pointed at it. A much larger and more imposing desk was centered in the room. To Chuck's left there was a conference table and in front of him was a long counter that overlooked the Maryland countryside.

The General was sitting a her desk, her more imposing desk, across from a pepper haired man that Chuck flashed on. He was Larry Snyder the Senior Director of Cryptography and Analysis. "Hello, General, it's nice to finally meet you in person." Chuck greeted her and stuck out his hand. General Beckman stood and shook it, but she did not return his friendly greeting.

"Mr. Carmichael, this is Larry Snyder, we've been discussing your test results."

Chuck shook the man's hand; he had a firm handshake and made Chuck feel slightly uneasy in how directly he looked Chuck in the eye. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Carmichael."

Chuck took a seat next to Mr. Synder. "So, how'd I do?"

Mr. Snyder turned and looked at the General who nodded. "Your cognitive recognition score was quite frankly amazing. I dare say there are a couple of research departments around here that would love to get their hands on you." The General cleared her throat and Mr. Snyder's eyes widened momentarily. "Right, that's not why we're here though is it? Your math score was very low for someone entering this field of work. I would be concerned that you'd be able to keep up with the necessary math requirement. You may need additional study."

"Oh," Chuck replied in confusion. What was going on here? He wondered

"Now your cryptography exam was quite interesting. We've never had anyone actually sleep in the exam room before. Mind you, it's within the rules of the exam, but what possessed you to keep at it, after you became too tired to continue?"

"My handler's," General Beckman cleared her throat loudly and shot him a sharp look. "Er…the people who've been escorting me through the building…they told me it was important to do my best. I uh…" Chuck gave a tentative glance at the General. "didn't want to disappoint them."

"I see. You did provide a remarkable effort. Most testees start to tire after four to six hours. You'd been working for a solid twelve hours before your little nap. General Beckman claims you hold BS degrees in computer science and physics."

"That's correct." Chuck nodded again glancing at General Beckman who remained silent.

"Did you ever consider taking any advanced mathematics courses while you were attending Stanford?"

"I did have some, but Stanford was a long time ago. It was hard to remember the formulas for some of those questions. I haven't done that kind of math in a long time."

"Do you enjoy math?"

"Sure, I mean I enjoyed it in school. I haven't really done any complex math since college."

Mr. Snyder frowned. "I have to be straight with you, Chuck. These days the kind of cryptography you spent all night working on is done with computer programs. Everything you worked on last night can be decrypted in under an hour by one of our programs. Decryption these days is mostly creating complex mathematical algorithms and letting a super computer crunch away at it. Do you think you'd enjoy that?"

"I'm not sure, it's possible," Chuck shrugged.

"To be honest, you're a little older than someone we'd start training in this kind of thing. What made you interested in cryptography?"

Chuck looked helplessly across the desk at General Beckman who was staring daggers at him. "I …er…I, you know, like puzzles and games with words and numbers. I've always been good with spotting patterns I just thought you know, it would be interesting."

Mr. Snyder nodded. "If you're attune to that sort of thing it can be fascinating, but as long as we're speaking honestly, I have to admit it offers limited career potential outside of the NSA, there are of course private companies that work encrypting information, but the job pool is limited."

Chuck nodded. "I understand."

"Do you have any questions?" Chuck had a million questions, but none that he could ask without talking to Sarah, Casey and General Beckman.

"Uh, not at this time," Chuck said.

"Well it was nice meeting you," Mr. Snyder said and reached out to shake Chuck's hand. "After your test, Mr. Carmichael, I'm sure you're going to be a legend around this place for quite some time, whether we ever work together or not."

"Yeah, it was nice to meet you too," Chuck agreed.

Mr. Snyder left through a side door in the General's office and was gone.

"Was that a job interview?" Chuck asked as the door closed behind him.

"In a manner of speaking, I suppose," replied General Beckman.

"I didn't realize I would be interviewing for a job this week. I thought you were here to run tests on the Intersect."

General Beckman frowned. "I'm not sure how much we could learn by examining your brain. That said, with the end of your mission upon us, it falls to me to figure out what to do with you."

"I always kind of figured I would just go back to my old life. Maybe start a software company or at least work for one, I've got my degree now."

"How very quaint," General Beckman replied dismissively. "But you see, just because we don't need you anymore, doesn't mean it's safe to let you roam around Los Angeles unsupervised. The secrets in your head are still secrets and there are still factions out there that would love to get their hands on them. I cannot allow that."

"What does that mean?" Chuck gulped.

"I have examined several options for what to do with you, Mr. Bartowski and frankly I find all of them unsatisfactory. Your handlers have been quite insistent that you would be of some value to the Agency and I've found it difficult to ignore the service you've provided this country. That may just be because your handlers seem to insist on reminding me every five minutes. I find their dedication to their asset admirable, but I am definitely confused as to what exactly it is about you that causes their attachment."

"We've been a team for a pretty long time now, maybe they're just used to me," Chuck replied.

"Indeed."

"So…what's next for me?"

The General peered him with a hard stare. "Are you and Agent Walker involved in a sexual relationship?" the General asked.

Chuck imagined his eyes must have bulged as he sputtered. "No! I mean we're just friends." Chuck blushed. "I mean for a long time I thought there was something more between us and that I really wanted to have a relationship with her. But Agent Walker has always been clear that we had to maintain a professional relationship."

"Are you sure?" General Beckman continued to stare him down.

"I swear, we're just friends. I was the only one of us who ever acted unprofessionally and Agent Walker…Sarah, well, she mostly tried to let me down easy. She was nice about it, as nice as anybody can be when they are rejecting you."

"I see and would you consider yourself friends with Major Casey?"

Chuck smiled slightly. "He's a difficult nut to crack, but I like to think that we're friends, at least a little. You'd never know for sure if your friends with him I wouldn't think. He's completely closed off. If I played poker, I'd never play with that guy." Chuck pulled nervously on the collar of his shirt. "Do you mind if I ask what this is about, General?"

"Part of the debriefing process, I'd like to know how compromised my agents are, so I know how heavily to weight their opinions of you."

"General, I can assure you neither one of them has been anything but professional during our mission. I can't imagine making it through this experience without either one of them. I'm not cut out to be a spy, I wouldn't have had a chance of making it without their help."

"Of that, I can assure you, I am very aware. The effectiveness of your team was clear, which is why I was willing to look the other way for some of the indiscretions that cropped up over the years. I do indeed realize you are not a spy. Thank you for doing your part to protect the country."

"You're welcome," Chuck replied. Silence settled over the room as General Beckman seemed to be thinking to herself.

"Well," she finally said. "I have a briefing I need to attend. Congratulations, Chuck, on making it this far."

"Ma'am?" Chuck asked in confusion.

"Yes?"

"What's going to happen to me?"

"I haven't decided yet. I'll be meeting with your handlers tomorrow. Presumably some resolution will happen at that time. I will definitely speak with you on Friday before your leave for Los Angeles. Thank you for your time, Mr. Bartowski, but I really must be going."

The General picked up her handset and pushed a number. "Yes, let them know I'll be ready in two minutes." The General picked up a piece of paper and started skimming it. Chuck stood up and took a few steps away from the General's desk, when the General didn't react he started walking away more quickly. It didn't pass his notice that she hadn't so much has shaken his hand. He couldn't help but wonder with all the time that he'd been working with her, why she still disliked him so much.