Rescind Order

by Natasha Bajema

  Rescind Order

  A Morgan Shaw Novel

  Natasha Bajema

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The views expressed in this novel are those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of the National Defense University, the Department of Defense or the U.S. Government.

  Copyright © 2020 by Natasha Bajema

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Design: Natasha Bajema

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Prologue – Centoreum Tech

  1. Data Infusion

  2. Tweet War

  3. The Diner

  4. Prowling Tiger

  5. Last Words

  6. Chukchi Sea

  7. False Positive

  8. Demonstration Blues

  9. West Sitting Hall

  10. The Message

  11. Cats versus Dogs

  12. The Butter Battle

  13. Fake News

  14. The Russia Connection

  15. Autopsy Results

  16. Mutual Assured Destruction

  17. The Logic of Deterrence

  18. Normal Accident Theory

  19. Nuclear Options

  20. Chain of Command

  21. Decapitation Strike

  22. The Oligarch Theory

  23. The Read-Ahead

  24. The Benefactor

  25. Missile Test

  26. Remittance

  27. Nightfall Incident

  28. Centoreum Tech

  29. The FBI Director

  30. Deep Fakes

  31. The Press Briefing

  32. The Live Interview

  33. The Dossier

  34. Use or Lose

  35. The Chinese Ambassador

  36. Black Box

  37. The Stone Wall

  38. Octane Grill

  39. Transfer Learning

  40. SATCOM

  41. Test and Evaluation

  42. Wild Theories

  43. Cause of Death

  44. The First Rule

  45. DEFCON 3

  46. Access Denied

  47. Command and Control

  48. Custody

  49. Retaliation Order

  50. Rescind Order

  51. Countdown

  52. Accidental Nuclear War

  53. Bourbon

  54. Reunited

  55. Disclosure

  56. Terminator Conundrum

  57. Détente

  Epilogue

  Write a Review

  Want to Read More?

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue – Centoreum Tech

  6 July 2033

  0405

  Centoreum Tech Headquarters

  Fairfax, Virginia

  “Humans make one mistake after another. They’re easily compromised. And yet, we willingly give them control over nuclear weapons,” Dennis said, fastening the last buttons on his tailored shirt. “But an intelligent machine? If a machine makes a single mistake, people freak out. All trust is lost in an instant. That’s a dangerous double standard. If we’re not careful, it will get us all killed someday.” His tone was grim as he glanced at the computer screen. The ARC system was still processing the data transfer.

  “Yeah, I’ve never fully understood the logic behind giving the president sole authority to launch nuclear weapons,” Amanda said. She pulled on a black pencil skirt and tugged on the zipper until it closed over her trim figure. “There are any number of things that can go wrong.”

  Dennis gazed lustfully as Amanda tucked her light-gray silk blouse into her skirt, the snug fit accentuating her full chest. In her late twenties, his systems engineer had emerald green eyes and wavy long blonde hair. She was thin and curvy in all the right places. But her stunning looks weren’t the only reason he’d hired her.

  “Yeah, it’s crazy,” he said absentmindedly. He surveyed his office and found evidence of their passionate tryst on his desk, on the couch, and on the floor. He reached down to pick up the nameplate his wife had given him when he’d first started his IT company. As he placed it back on his messy desk, Dennis caught a glimpse of his wife staring at him from their wedding photo.

  A wave of guilt roiled his stomach. He pushed the nagging thought from his mind and continued his conversation. “In the early days of the nuclear age, members of Congress were so afraid of military officers launching nuclear weapons without civilian authorization that they placed the sole authority in the hands of one man.”

  “Or one woman,” Amanda said quickly and flashed her white teeth at him.

  “Please don’t remind me about that woman,” Dennis groaned. He pulled his Rolex watch onto his wrist and snapped the clasp shut.

  “Aren’t you having lunch with her today?” Amanda asked, scrunching her petite nose. She bent over to slip on her heels, and he couldn’t help staring at her shapely rear end.

  Dennis scowled as he turned to reach for his suit jacket, his mood dipping suddenly. He was surprised his conscience was bothering him all of a sudden. He hadn’t slept with Amanda for the past year simply for her good looks—though that made it much easier to do what needed to be done. He’d needed her brilliant mind for a special project—one that required a flexible moral code, absolute loyalty and discretion, and most importantly, a major stake in the game. He’d dangled the possibility of marriage as the lynchpin of the deal. And she was naïve enough to believe his promises.

  In the end, it was all a ruse to secure her cooperation in pulling the wool over the eyes of Pentagon leadership while he made sure his life’s work was given a fair shot.

  “I really don’t understand why you hate President Tolley so much,” Amanda said. “Didn’t you practically bankroll the Monroe-Tolley ticket?”

  He nodded. “Without my financial contribution, that ticket would never have seen the light of day, let alone the Oval Office. Last year, I warned Monroe about choosing Tolley as his VP, but he wouldn’t hear of it. And now Monroe is dead, and that woman is the president.”

  His stomach roiled each time he thought about how Monroe dropped dead on the golf course over the holiday weekend, stricken by a sudden heart attack. Dennis had been invited to partake in several one-on-one rounds of golf with the president, but his wife had forced him to take a rain check since it was their ten-year anniversary. He’d been cross with her all weekend about it. But now a shudder of relief passed through his stocky frame.

  Thank God I wasn’t there to see it happen.

  “Did I ever tell you how she nearly killed our plan to launch the ARC system?” Dennis asked.

  Amanda shook her head.

  “If it were up to Tolley, there would be zero automation in nuclear weapons systems. She wants humans to remain fully in the loop for all such decisions. To assuage her concerns, Monroe even demanded our programmers make some major changes to the ARC system, allowing for human intervention.” Dennis walked around his desk and threw up his hands. “She’d rather have millions of dead Americans on her hands than jeopardize the supposed morality of the United States. As if moral qualms will stop other countries from gaining a speed advantage through automation.” Turning toward Amanda, he clenched his fists and grimaced, feeling a new surge of determination come over him. “Whether she likes it or not, President T
olley owes me for the election. By the time lunch is finished today, she’ll know what’s at stake for her personally.”

  “You’re planning to get her on board by threatening her?” Amanda said, crossing her arms.

  Dennis smirked. “Well, let’s just say I know some damning things about her predecessor. If any of it gets out into the media, it’s enough to take down her presidency.” He smoothed his sweaty hair, wiped his hands on a Kleenex, and pulled his chair back from the desk. “I own her. If Tolley knows what’s good for her, she’ll endorse the ARC system and give Burke the empty VP slot.” He chuckled. “Even if I let her play the role of commander in chief, Burke and I will take over the Oval Office from within.”

  Dennis sat down in his black leather chair, looked at the computer screen, and frowned. A pop-up box on the ARC dashboard stated that the data transfer was almost finished. He craned his neck to see Amanda come up behind his chair. He swiveled around to face her, placed his hands around her waist, and pulled her closer to him. “Before you joined Centoreum Tech, the prototype user interface for ARC used to provide much more information than it does today.”

  Amanda raised her eyebrow. “You dumbed it down?”

  He nodded, smiling at her glowing face, still a rosy pink from their romp. “We decided too much transparency was problematic. With a broad range of information at their fingertips, Pentagon leadership would start asking too many questions. They might even refuse to let ARC operate properly. So, we redesigned the ARC dashboard to have only a few audible alerts and flashing lights with a simple color scheme—a simplified user interface to prevent humans from second-guessing the system.”

  Amanda nodded, her eyes bright with understanding. “Because the worst-case scenario would be having access to an intelligent machine with superior abilities but the Pentagon leadership failing to trust it, shutting it down, and acting on their own limited understanding of the situation.”

  “Exactly. We’re at much greater risk of annihilation if they stop trusting the ARC system.”

  “Yeah, if we expect human critical thinking to save us from a nuclear war, we’re all screwed,” Amanda said snidely.

  Several loud, high-pitched beeps emanated from the computer. Dennis moved her body gently, turned his chair around toward the desk, and glanced at the ARC dashboard. Amanda leaned over his shoulder, pressing up against the back of his chair. The message on the screen stated that ARC’s deep neural network had finished analyzing the new data infusion and produced its recommended outcomes. He clicked on the results button and studied the screen.

  “Well, that’s unexpected,” Dennis said. “I might have underestimated the emerging threat coming from China.”

  “I suppose we should have run some diagnostics on potential outcomes to a wide range of data inputs?” she asked.

  He sighed heavily and rubbed his chin. “Well, it’s too late for that now.”

  “Do you want me to tweak the algorithms using the back door?” she asked.

  Dennis shook his head, tapping his finger on his chin. “No, too risky. But there may be another way.”

  “How?”

  He turned to smile triumphantly at her. “I own a Navy captain inside the Pentagon. And then there’s my good-for-nothing systems engineer who works for him. Between the two of them, we’ll make the necessary changes from inside the Pentagon, just in time for today’s test and evaluation.”

  Amanda tilted her head. “How in the world did you get a senior military officer to do your bidding?”

  Dennis smirked. “Everyone has a price.”

  1

  Data Infusion

  GRACE

  6 July 2033

  0415

  National Military Command Center

  The Pentagon

  Arlington, Virginia

  Loud beeps startled Grace Lim, waking her from a restless sleep. In a daze, she lifted her head from the desk and wiped a thick layer of drool from her cheek. Then she slowly recalled the sequence of events that led her to spend the entire night slumped over her desk with her face planted on the cold, hard surface.

  Blinking several times, she opened her eyes a bit wider, and they landed directly on the silver framed photo of her father staring back at her. He wore his Air Force dress uniform and a familiar proud smile.

  A sharp pang stabbed her gut, the pain of his death still fresh after a year of intense grief. She’d fallen asleep talking to her father’s photo, asking him for advice about romantic relationships, of all things. Since her mom died during her teen years, it had been just the two of them for more than a decade. Grace smirked, thinking about her father’s discomfort when she spoke to him about her feelings or any other topic he would have typically delegated to her mother when Grace was a young girl.

  Grace glanced at her watch and then down at her crumpled Navy uniform and sighed heavily. She looked at her father’s picture again, imagining the way he used to grimace at her.

  “I know… I can’t let my boss see me like this,” she said. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands, she took a deep breath. “No time to make it all the way back to Falls Church…”

  This wouldn’t be the first or the last time she had to make use of the spare uniform she kept in her locker at the Pentagon Fitness Center.

  “But first, I need to check the status on the data infusion. Then I’ll know how much work will be on my plate this morning.”

  She rubbed her eyes again and stared at her terminal, looking for the source of the loud beeps she’d heard earlier. As expected, a gray textbox on the computer screen announced that the terabyte-sized data transfer was complete. She released a breath of relief and pressed the enter key to acknowledge the message. The screen went blank again. She was about to launch the ARC system’s interface when her thoughts drifted to her boyfriend Zach, and her pulse spiked.

  Whoops.

  Grace smacked her forehead. She’d completely forgotten to let Zach know it was going to be a very late night.

  I can’t blame him for being worried. Thankfully, her smartphone was shut away in a lockbox outside the expansive Top Secret facility, so she didn’t have to see the long stream of worried texts which probably devolved into angry ones.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Grace said to her father’s photo. “He knows I don’t have access to my phone.” Her father had always favored Zach over her other boyfriends. It was why she hadn’t been able to let go of him for the past year. But it was time. She’d finally worked up the courage to break up with him.

  As an active duty fighter pilot in the Air Force, Zach should know the drill about what happened when duty called. But somehow, that excuse didn’t apply to her job as an Air Force data scientist, at least not from his perspective. Zach assumed her job to be a regular nine-to-fiver, with a few extra hours tacked on simply for working at the Pentagon. But Grace couldn’t give him any details about what she did all day. He didn’t have a high enough security clearance and didn’t have the need to know. Grace was tired of having to fend off his criticism. She didn’t owe him any explanation for why her job was so important.

  I should have never moved in with him.

  Grace hadn’t meant to stay the entire night in her cubicle, but part of her wondered if she’d done it subconsciously to avoid going home to have the talk. It would mean she’d have to move out and find an affordable place to live. The previous day, one thing had led to another, giving her the perfect excuse to avoid the inevitable.

  She’d gotten back to the Pentagon in the late afternoon from a National Security Council staff meeting at the White House to formulate new policies for deploying fully autonomous weapons systems. The national security agencies of the Executive Branch were busily preparing for the possibility that Congress would pass legislation giving the long-awaited green light to the Department of Defense for fielding such systems on the battlefield.

  As soon as Grace returned to the Pentagon, her boss, Captain Dietz, had dragged her to another long
meeting with the entire leadership of the J6 Cyber Directorate to discuss the next phase of the test and evaluation process for the Department of Defense’s Autonomous Retaliatory Capability (ARC) system.

  When she finally got out of the J6 meeting the previous night, it was already seven p.m. Grace returned to her cubicle to enter in the commands to initiate ARC’s data infusion. And at some point, she must have fallen fast asleep holding her father’s picture.

  ARC was the U.S. Strategic Command’s shiny new automated system developed by Centoreum Tech, a leading defense contractor specializing in information technology. The system linked a comprehensive intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) system together with existing early warning systems for detecting a nuclear attack as well as nuclear command and control systems for launching retaliatory attacks.

  By automating the process to detect nuclear attacks, formulate an attack plan, and launch U.S. nuclear weapons, the military could maintain a speed advantage against potential adversaries and counter the threat of a first-strike attack with hypersonic missiles. Or at least, that’s what many nuclear deterrence experts had claimed it would do in their testimonies before Congress several years ago.