by Kyle Pratt
The Storm Rises
The Solar Storm Saga, Book Zero
A sidequel to the Solar Storm Saga
By Kyle Pratt
The Storm Rises
The Solar Storm Saga, Book Zero
A sidequel to the Solar Storm Saga
By Kyle Pratt
ebook ISBN: 978-0-9983756-5-6
eBook Version 1.21 – July 14, 2018
All Rights Reserved
Editor: Julie McDonald Zander
Cover Design: Inspired Cover Designs
Ebook Design: Amit Dey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
* * *
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Acknowledgments
I admit at times I don’t like writing, but I do enjoy that moment when I type the last sentence and know the book is finished. Yesterday I completed The Storm Rises and took the rest of the day off.
Today, I’m back in the office, but the exhilaration of finishing the nine-month writing process has not faded even though I’m not really done. Later this week, I’ll take the final chapter to my critique partners, Robert Hansen, Kristie Kandoll, Barbara Blakey, Debby Lee, Carolyn Bickel, Joyce Scott, Pat Thompson, and Amy Flugle. They’ll review it and I’ll make edits based on what they say.
Next, the book is read by beta-readers Jennifer Vandenberg and William Childress, and I make more edits.
Then it goes to the editor, Julie McDonald Zander, and I make even more edits. These people who help me create books are both teammates and friends and I appreciate each of them.
I can’t speak about my team without mentioning my wife, Lorraine. I couldn’t write without her support and encouragement. Every chapter is read by her before anyone else sees it. She is my first editor, critique partner, beta-reader, and soulmate.
Thank you all for making this book possible.
Tomorrow, I’ll start writing my next novel.
Table of Contents
Prologue: Events on the Sun
Day Zero
Day One
Day Two
Day Three
Day Four
Day Five
Day Six
Day Seven
Day Eight
Day Nine
Day Ten
Day Eleven
Day Twelve
Through the Storm
Through Many Fires
About the Author
About the Newsletter
Prologue: Events on the Sun
Six storms churned on the sun. Over several weeks they grew to encompass an area fifteen times the size of Earth. Invisible magnetic lines of force danced, curved, and weaved above and between the storms. But on this particular day, as the magnetic fields bent and reconnected, a huge amount of ionized gas, called plasma, became trapped in the sun’s atmosphere.
For the next few days, the plasma swirled and pitched in the corona region of the atmosphere, while it absorbed radiant energy and grew hotter than a nuclear fireball.
Finally, the superheated mass reached a temperature of more than ten million degrees Celsius and exploded as a solar flare. Much of it fell back to the sun, but, on the edge of the magnetic fields, several planet-sized clouds snapped like a whip, broke free of the sun’s gravity, and hurled into space.
Astronomers call these plasma clouds Coronal Mass Ejections, or CMEs. Each possessed more energy than an entire year of the world’s electrical production; these were hurtled at speeds faster than a bolt of lightning on a collision course with Earth.
* * *
If a disaster occurs you should be “ready to be self-sufficient for at least three days. This may mean providing for your own shelter, first aid, food, water, and sanitation.”
Are You Ready? An In-Depth Guide to Citizen Preparedness by the Federal Emergency Management Agency
But what happens on day four or five or …
Day Zero
Portland, Oregon, Saturday, September 3rd
A Humvee parked in front of his house couldn’t mean anything good. Major Dirk Franklin sighed as he drove the last hundred yards to his home on a quiet residential street in suburban Portland. Two soldiers in combat uniforms with pistols on their hips stood next to the vehicle.
It had been a fun week of hiking, camping, and fishing with his oldest son, but apparently, the good times were over.
James leaned forward in the passenger seat. “What’s going on, Dad?”
Franklin commanded the Portland Cyber Intelligence Center headquartered near the University of Portland. He could think of a dozen world situations that might bring a Humvee to his house, but in answer to his son’s question, he said, “I don’t know. We’ll just have to find out.”
“Maybe we should have brought our phones,” James said.
“Maybe I should have, but you would have been talking to your friends the whole time.” Despite the casual tone of his words, Franklin gripped the steering wheel tighter as he pulled into the driveway. He had hoped for a quiet weekend with his wife, Carol, before returning to work. That now seemed unlikely.
As Carol walked out the front door of their home, a sergeant stepped away from the Humvee.
Franklin strode to Carol, kissed and hugged her. Embracing her, he forced the concerns of the world to fade as he brushed her brunette hair aside and gazed into her hazel eyes. They kissed again and then he asked, “Do you know what’s going on?”
“The news channels are talking about a storm on the sun, but the sergeant won’t tell me anything.”
“I’m going to call my friend.” James hurried past them into the house.
“You mean Emma.” Their youngest son, Logan, giggled.
Franklin ignored the boys and turned to the soldier now standing twenty feet away. The evening shadows were growing deeper, but still, he recognized Sergeant Keller, a trim, dark-haired man in his early twenties. As one of the soldiers who guarded the facility he had no security clearance, but Franklin decided to inquire anyway. He approached Keller and asked, “Is this about the solar storm?”
“Good evening, sir.” Keller saluted. “All I know for sure is the colonel would like to see you as soon as possible.”
Franklin sighed. “Okay, you can go. I’ll be there shortly.”
Keller stood fast. “I’ve been ordered to escort you, sir.”
“Really?” Even during major network intrusions by enemy nations, command had never escorted him in. Franklin’s gut twisted as he thought about the possibilities. “Why would they want to do that?” he muttered. “What’s happened?”
The question had been rhetorical, but Keller answered. “We’ve received a few reports of unrest and some looting.”
“I’ll be right with you, Sergeant.”
Carol shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “Take a shower before you leave. A clean uniform is on the bed. I’ll pack some food.”
* * *
Franklin walked into the operations center. Soldiers sometimes called it The Cube because each wall was nearly twenty yards long, making the room a huge square. However, this cube had ten large screens embedded in one wall, and twenty computer stations along a U-shaped work area. From here, a dozen tech
nicians monitored and analyzed the flow of data along commercial phone, internet, and military networks in the region.
Today all of them, including the watch officer, Lieutenant David Poole, stared at a large screen where news commentators and analysts discussed the solar storm. Franklin had watched the news while dressing, but that provided only cursory information. He wanted details. “Everyone back to your stations. Lieutenant, come with me.”
With Franklin in the lead, the two strode out the door at the rear of the ops center to an adjacent conference room. Franklin sat at the end of the rectangular table, allowing him to watch technicians in The Cube through a glass wall at the far end of the room. A whiteboard covered most of the wall behind him. A large political map of the world hung on another wall. “If a situation is bad enough that I get called in, I expect to find you managing it, not watching the news.”
The lieutenant stiffened. “Yes, sir.”
“Is the colonel concerned about the CMEs headed toward Earth?” Franklin leaned back in the chair. “Is that why he wants to talk with me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are they large enough to cause an electromagnetic pulse?”
“Yes, sir. G4 or 5.”
Franklin nodded. That would at least light up the night sky. “What’s Norad, Strategic Command, and Vandenberg saying? I need facts before I talk with Colonel Sattler.”
The door squeaked open and Colonel Don Sattler, a tall man with a full head of gray hair, walked in. “Franklin, I’m glad you’re here. Has Poole briefed you?”
Not yet. Franklin cringed inwardly as he faced the colonel. All through his career, he had tried to know more than his boss about any situation, but today he felt like everyone knew more than he did. “The lieutenant is just getting started with his briefing.”
Colonel Sattler took the chair next to Franklin. “Well, bring us both up to speed, Lieutenant.”
“Four CMEs in the G4 or G5 range are—”
The colonel waved his hand. “I’m just an old soldier; give it to me in simple terms.”
“A coronal mass ejection is essentially a magnetic cloud thrown from the sun at high velocity. These four are large and powerful.” The lieutenant stepped toward the whiteboard and grabbed several markers. He scribbled a large yellow sun on one end and a tiny dot at the other. “Right now the plasma is hurtling toward the Earth.” He drew four arrows in a line from the sun. “When these hit our magnetic field, the CME will compress the daylight side of the magnetosphere and elongate the night side.”
Franklin nodded as he imagined the magnetic lines of force stretching and then snapping back as the cloud passed. If the CME pushed hard enough on the magnetosphere, the result could be catastrophic.
Poole’s eyes widened. “And here’s where it gets really interesting—”
“For now just tell me what it’ll do to us,” the colonel said.
“Yes, sir.” The spark faded from his face. “Most scientists believe the first CME will release huge amounts of energy into Earth’s magnetic field. About five hours later, a second one will repeat that, followed by a third a few hours later.”
“What about the fourth one?”
“That one may miss or just glance along the Earth. We’ll know more later if ….”
“If what?” the colonel asked.
Franklin slumped forward, resting his arms on the desk as he contemplated how much energy four CMEs could discharge into the magnetosphere. It would be a long night.
“All that power surging in the magnetic field around the Earth will burn out our satellites.” Poole strode along the whiteboard like a professor teaching a class. “It’ll probably burn out the electrical grid worldwide. It could even destroy computer processors in everything from cars, cash registers, airplanes and even the controls for nuclear plants and hydroelectric dams like the one at The Dalles.
“We hardened? our equipment to protect it,” Sattler said.
The lieutenant nodded. “And tonight that hardening will be tested.”
“When will the first of these CMEs hit?”
“In about six hours.”
* * *
Franklin discussed preparations and contingency plans with Lieutenant Poole as they walked through the building, inspecting induction shielding, circuit breakers, and grounding. “Do we have enough fuel for the generators?”
“Yes. The tanks are full and I told Sergeant Keller to fill up all the vehicles.”
They were as ready as they could be. As they walked back to the conference room, Franklin worried about what might happen beyond the building, to society itself.
Poole turned left toward the conference room.
Franklin paused. “I’m going to call my family. If the colonel asks, I’ll be there in a minute.” Alone in his office, he sat behind his desk. Because of the shielding around the building, cellphones didn’t work. He picked up his desk phone and tapped out the number for home. When he heard Carol’s voice, he asked, “How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you and how bad is it?”
“I’m okay. How much food do you have?”
“Enough for six or seven days.”
That was more than FEMA recommended and more than they had ever needed, but on this night it felt inadequate. “Try and buy more supplies.” Thoughts of panic buying flashed through his mind. “But take James with you and stay safe.” Those words felt hollow and meaningless. “I love you.”
“I’ll be fine. I love you, too.”
Moments later, as he entered the conference room, Franklin made a mental note of those around the table. Colonel Sattler had moved to the head position. Local directors and managers for DIA, DHS, CIA, and other alphabet agencies filled most of the other seats around it. Poole, along with a dozen others, sat along the wall while several clusters of civilians argued nearby.
Franklin sat in his usual chair beside Colonel Sattler.
The colonel wrote on a yellow legal pad for several moments and then stood. “Gentlemen, ladies, the first cloud hits in five hours. Before then, we need a plan to protect our equipment and accomplish all, or at least most, of our various missions.”
“The only way to be certain the equipment is protected is to disconnect from the power grid and the network,” Franklin said.
“You can’t do that.” Anger creased the face of the local FBI agent in charge. “We have an agreement to use this facility on a continuous basis—continuous. We need your network up and available for several ongoing criminal investigations.”
“We’re tracking hacker probes into DOD networks from several countries,” another civilian added. “We’ve got to stay online.”
“Did you two fail high school science class?” Lieutenant Poole stood with his face growing deeper shades of red by the second. “This could be catastrophic.”
Franklin motioned for him to sit. “The lieutenant makes a valid point. If we don’t shut down, our equipment might be seriously damaged. We could be offline for weeks after that.”
“If the solar storm causes that much damage, there won’t be a functional power grid or internet,” the local NSA chief snarled.
Sattler leaned toward Franklin and raised an eyebrow.
“I think we need to shut down,” Franklin said. “Several agencies including NASA, NOAA, and the Space Weather Prediction Center are working to provide us with accurate impact times. We should shift to emergency power about an hour before the storm arrives and then shut everything off.”
A sergeant hurried into the conference room. “Excuse me, Colonel; General Abbott from Cyber Command wants a video conference with you.”
“Project it on the whiteboard, Sergeant, and erase those arrows.”
When General Abbott’s image appeared, Colonel Sattler stood and faced the camera above the whiteboard. “General, I’m here with my staff and stakeholders. Does this need to be private?”
“No, Colonel, they should hear what I’m going to say. The president has declared martial law. Yo
u are hereby promoted to the rank of brigadier general for the duration of the emergency. We are still hoping there will be no significant disruption of command and control authority. However, if you do lose contact with the chain of command, you are to assume control of all military forces, law enforcement, and Coast Guard personnel within your operations area.”
“Yes, sir.”
A lieutenant stepped into view and whispered to Abbott. The general nodded and said, “I have to go. Good luck and Godspeed.” The screen went blank.
Colonel Sattler leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling for several moments. “How fast can you shut down the classified network?”
“It’s easier to take it down than bring it up.” Franklin rubbed his chin. “Fifteen minutes from full operation to completely down.”
“How fast can you return to normal operations?” the colonel asked.
“If the power and networks outside the building remain up and stable, we can be back to regular operations in less than an hour.”
“Then that’s what you have, Major. Fifteen minutes before the first CME hits take the classified network down and shift to generators. Then we’ll use the unclassified network to monitor the situation. If we remain in contact with command authorities I want secure operations restored in one hour.”
“Yes, sir.” Franklin cringed and wished he had given himself more time.
* * *
Franklin slammed the receiver down on his desk telephone. Since telling Carol to get more supplies he had called her cell phone and the house a dozen times without success. He looked at his watch. The night might still be young, but they were out of time.
He strode from his office and down the hall to the ops center. As he entered, he glanced at his watch and then the red digital clock high on the wall. “It’s time. Take it down.” Six soldiers fanned out through the room, shutting down computers.
Everyone should have been ready, but four civilian technicians continued to work until the last possible moment, grumbling complaints as they did.
Franklin was not in the mood to hear any arguments. He ignored them and remained stoic at the back of the room near the door. This had always been the best view, but tonight there was little to see. In quick succession, every screen flickered off and the usual hum of activity faded.
