by Dan Stratman
They sat, frozen in silence, hoping with every fiber in their bodies that the next sound they heard would be an all-clear message identifying this as a drill.
The sense of tranquility in the LCC was unnerving. They could hear the stale, recycled air gently blowing from the vents.
Time seemed to stand still.
The speaker built into the console suddenly came alive with a five-second-long warble tone. Following the tone, a creepy, computer-generated female voice announced, “This is an Emergency Action Message. Enable code is delta, one, six, November, two, six, foxtrot.”
Using grease pencils, Cyndi and Lance wrote the code on plastic-covered sheets in their binders.
“Validate code,” Cyndi said.
Lance flipped pages in the binder then meticulously compared the code they’d heard to the one in his book. He looked up wide-eyed. “We just received a valid code.”
“That can’t be correct.” Cyndi read off the characters she had written down.
“It’s the same,” Lance said after checking her code.
Cyndi stared at the code in her book. “Are you absolutely positive?”
“I checked it twice. It’s a match.”
She took a deep breath, attempting to get her heartrate under control. Her foot nervously tapped the floor. “Enter”—Cyndi cleared her throat—“enter the enable code.”
“Roger that.” Lance carefully typed each character of the code into the computer.
“Enable code entered,” the female voice announced.
A vertical row of indicator lights in front of Lance confirmed each step as well.
A bright red warning light in the missile silo flashed, accompanied by two loud blasts from a horn. This was the only warning a person working in the silo would have received before being incinerated.
The Minuteman missile came to life as it began its power-up sequence.
Stabilizing brackets supporting the missile retracted.
A plume of white vapor vented overboard and spilled down the side of the missile.
POWER-UP SEQUENCE lit up on the next indicator light, indicating the completion of that step.
Cyndi and Lance jumped up and entered their codes in the padlocks attached to the red box.
She opened the box and pulled out an ordinary-looking key. Lance pulled out two cards encased in plastic, nicknamed cookies. They each took one and cracked them open. They both compared the codes on their cards to the earlier code.
The codes were an exact match.
“Upload launch code. Preparatory launch command bravo,” Cyndi said.
Lance didn’t respond. He couldn’t pull his gaze away from his card.
“Lieutenant Garcia, perform the next checklist step. Upload the launch code.”
Lance froze. His mind’s eye saw a terrifying sight—the inevitable outcome of what they were about to do—the shape of a fiery mushroom cloud.
“Lieutenant!”
Lance looked over. His face was ashen. “The launch code is valid,” he said, barely able to force the words past his vocal cords at anything above a whisper.
“I realize that.” She repeated her command. “Upload the launch code to the missile. Preparatory launch command is bravo.”
Lance typed out the code on his keyboard. His finger hovered over the Enter key. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. He wiped away the perspiration with his sleeve. Then he tapped the key.
A thick data transfer cable attached to an umbilical on the side of the missile carried the code to the guidance computer. Once the computer validated the target coordinates, the cable detached and fell away.
Ballistic gas generators detonated, launching the massive silo cover door across its rails and through the security fence. Two oval exhaust diverter tunnel outlets and the round opening over the missile were revealed.
The most destructive weapons on earth spent their pampered lives inside concrete cocoons kept at a pleasant sixty degrees. The silo was now exposed to the frigid winter air.
Ice crystals instantly formed as the different-temperature air molecules collided. Thick fog engulfed the silo, reducing visibility to only a few feet.
“Missile ready for launch,” the disembodied voice said.
Cyndi inserted her launch key into the console. It slid in effortlessly.
“Slow down; I have a bad feeling about this,” Lance said. “Let’s take a breath.”
“The launch code is valid, Lance. It’s our job to execute the launch order.”
“I understand that, but…”
Cyndi gripped the head of the key. “Get ready to launch.”
“Jesus!” Lance pointed at his monitor. “Our missile is going to take out the ten largest cities in China.” His voice cracked. “Over a billion people will die if we launch. This…this can’t be right. There wasn’t a single word about tensions with China in the intel briefing.”
“Missile ready for launch,” the disembodied female voice repeated.
“It’s got to be an exercise, then,” Cyndi rationalized. “The president wouldn’t just decide to nuke China for no reason.”
“But what if it isn’t an exercise? Hell, for all we know there could be a bug in the new software. There must be forty million lines of code in the REACT console. Let’s get Dr. Zhao back out here and have him check it over.”
“I can’t. That’s not part of the launch procedure. We don’t get to decide which launch orders we follow and which ones we don’t.”
“Dammit, Cyndi, stop quoting regulations. Screw the manual. What does your gut tell you?”
“It tells me to do my job.” She gripped her key even tighter and rested her left hand on her launch switch. “Prepare for key turn,” Cyndi commanded.
Lance wiped more sweat from his brow. He reached out and gripped the two launch switches on his side of the console. His damp hands trembled, making holding the switches even more difficult.
“God help us.” Cyndi took a deep breath. “Prepare for key turn in five, four, three, two—”
“I can’t.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lance pulled his right hand away from the launch switch and shook his head. “I can’t do this.”
“What are you doing! Put your hand back on your switch.”
“Something is wrong about this. It doesn’t make sense. Why would we nuke China?”
“What if an attack is underway right now and we did nothing? Millions of Americans will die.”
“Why don’t we call the command post? They’ll know if this is real or not.”
“I don’t want to start World War III any more than you do, but you know how this works. We don’t get to make that decision.”
“Missile ready for launch,” the female voice repeated over the speaker.
“Put your hand on your switch, Lance. If we don’t turn them within two minutes, the missile reverts to standby mode.”
Lance ignored her and removed his left hand from the other switch.
“Lance! We’re missileers. We have a job to do.”
“If you won’t do it then I’ll make the call.” He reached out for the phone on his side of the console.
Click.
Lance looked over at Cyndi. The barrel of her Beretta was pointed directly at his forehead. The safety was off.
“Colonel Wilmer, you need to see this.” Sergeant Morgan, the new command post NCOIC, waved Wilmer over.
He walked up behind Morgan’s workstation. “What is it, Sergeant?”
“There’s something strange going on out at Alpha One. All communication channels just went down, and the site took itself offline.” He looked back wide-eyed. “It’s like it just disappeared.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” He rubbed the back of his neck and began pacing.
“Shouldn’t we call headquarters? Inform the general?”
Wilmer spun around. “No! Wait! Let’s not bother him just yet. Run a full set of diagnostics on Alpha One and our equipment. I want to
know exactly what’s going on before—”
“But sir, that could take an hour to complete.”
“Just do it, Sergeant!”
“What the hell are you doing?” Lance responded with horror.
The gun shook in Cyndi’s hand. “I don’t want to do this Lance, but I have to.”
“No, you don’t.”
“If China is attacking and we don’t launch—”
“If we do launch, they will retaliate. Life on this planet is over.”
“Lance, please, put your hands back on your launch switches.”
He held out his left hand like a stop sign. “I’m going to lift up my phone and call the command post. Don’t shoot me.” He slowly lifted the handset and held it against his ear. “Command Post, this is Alpha One.”
His right arm dropped to his side.
Lance wrapped his hand around the grip of his Beretta and silently pulled it out of the holster.
“Command Post, this is Alpha One. How do you read me?”
“Lieutenant Garcia, I order you to put your hands back on your launch switches.”
“Command Post, Alpha One. Do you read me?” Lance slipped his finger inside the trigger guard.
“Lance, please!”
He brought his gun up into view.
“Don’t do it!” Cyndi jerked her gun back and forth, aiming at his gun then at Lance. “Put your gun down!”
He hung up the phone in one slow, deliberate move. “The line is dead.”
“That could mean we are under attack.”
“Think, Cyndi. Take a deep breath and think about this.”
“Put the gun down!”
“Okay, I’m putting it down. Relax.” Lance took his finger off the trigger and laid the gun down on the worktable between them.
Cyndi kept her gun aimed at Lance.
“This system was built during the Stone Age. What if it just…failed. It wouldn’t be the first time.” He faced her and looked into her frightened eyes. “There’s nobody down here but you and me. We decide what happens next. It’s just us. Lance and Cyndi.”
“No, no…” She wagged her finger at him. “Don’t you say that. Don’t you pull that on me.”
“Please put the gun down. We can figure this out together.”
Cyndi pounded the desk with her free hand. “You have the luxury of second-guessing orders. I don’t! I’m the commander. I have a duty to carry out the orders we’re given.”
“Well then”—Lance let out a resigned sigh—“I guess the ball is in your court, Captain.”
The Beretta trembled in her hand.
A battle raged in her heart.
“Lieutenant Garcia, put your hands back on your launch switches.”
Lance didn’t respond. He turned and stared straight ahead at the console.
“Lance…please, I won’t ask you again.”
Lance folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes. Every muscle in his body tensed up.
Cyndi pulled the trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The 9 mm slug traveled the five feet between the end of the gun and Lance in milliseconds. It went behind his head and buried itself deep into the mattress on the bunk.
Love had won the battle.
Cyndi holstered her gun, jumped up, and went to Lance. Tears streamed down her face. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t shoot you, no matter what the rules say. I just couldn’t do it.”
He’d only heard part of what she said because of the loud ringing in his left ear. All he knew was that he was still alive. A huge exhalation of relief left his lungs. Lance stood and embraced Cyndi. “I knew you wouldn’t do it. I knew it.”
The dangerous world around them disappeared. A prolonged, passionate kiss replaced it.
When their bodies parted, Cyndi hung her head. “I would never hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?”
Lance gently wiped away her tears. “I know that. I don’t blame you. You’re responsible for the missile. You were just following procedures.” He gently lifted her chin. “Next time, maybe just give me a sternly worded reprimand rather than firing a warning shot so close to my head.” That irresistible smile he’d used to his advantage many times in the past flashed across his face.
Cyndi fought the urge to be swayed by his beguiling smile. She did chuckle at his poorly timed attempt at humor, though. “Fair enough. I’ll warn you next time before I shoot you.” She lifted a cover on the console and pressed the button under it. The button lit up. “The missile is in safe mode.”
Lance’s smile transformed into a look of apprehension. “The missile is safe, but what about our careers? When they find out what we did, there won’t be a next time for us.”
“You mean me. I’m in command. The buck stops with me.”
“You did the right thing. We did the right thing. We’re a crew. We’re in this together.” Lance put his hands on the headrest of his chair and looked down at the console. “The missile can’t launch. China is safe from attack. We can deal with Global Strike Command later. We need to figure out a way to contact command post. Once they know the facts, they’ll understand why we didn’t launch.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Cyndi said. “Remember the motto: No Errors, No Mistakes, No Exceptions. We’ll be lucky to be thrown out of the Air Force with just a dishonorable discharge and not a court-martial.” She shook her head. “Thank goodness my dad isn’t alive to see this.”
“We probably just prevented World War III. You don’t think he’d understand why you disobeyed orders?”
“You don’t get it. With my dad, good enough, never was. When I washed out of pilot training, I know I let him down. He never said that, but I could see it on his face.”
“Trust me, I do understand. When I told my dad I didn’t want to be a doctor, he got so bent out of shape I thought he’d need a heart surgeon. He didn’t speak to me for weeks.”
Cyndi slumped down in her chair. “Now what do I do? I wrote the book for the new combined site. I got perfect scores on every test. I was Instructor of the Year, for Christ’s sake. Lot of good that did me.” She buried her head in her hands.
Lance came over and put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It can’t be easy being the commander. Especially for a woman. Act feminine, and they say you’re not tough enough. Act like a guy, and they still don’t let you into the bro club.”
She looked up and removed his hand. “Thanks for the pep talk, but my gender has nothing to do with it. I don’t play the gender card. Ever.”
“Hey, just trying to help.” Lance took his seat and stowed his thick binder back on the shelf. “Well, what do we do now? There’s no checklist for almost nuking China.”
“I’ll try the commercial line.” Cyndi went over to the phone on the wall and dialed the base operator. When she picked up, Cyndi said, “This is site Alpha One, I need to talk to command post.”
Suddenly, the speaker on the console came alive. The creepy female voice announced, “Launch time parameters exceeded. Override protocol activated.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Cyndi slammed the phone down. “What happened? Did you touch something?”
Lance held up his hands like a Vegas poker dealer proving he hadn’t pocketed a chip. “I didn’t touch a thing.” He studied the console. “The computer seems to be…”
One by one, the launch progress lights on the panel lit up.
“Launch checklist initiated,” the voice said.
Under specific circumstances the system was designed to automatically launch missiles if it determined that the entire command structure had been wiped out by an attack. The thinking was that at least some of the missiles would be able to retaliate in a worst-case scenario.
“What the hell is going on?” Lance said in a panic. “The computer is trying to launch our missile.”
“This can’t be happening. I put the missile back in safe mode to stop this very contingency. The system can’t override i
t.” Cyndi looked at the safe mode button. The light was out. She stabbed at it repeatedly. The light wouldn’t come back on.
The computer voice rattled off each step to launch a thermonuclear missile as cavalierly as it would have announced each floor in a department store elevator.
“Pull the launch key out!”
Cyndi grabbed the key and pulled. “It won’t come out!” She wiggled the key then pulled with all her might. The head of the key snapped off. Its shaft remained inserted in the slot.
Cyndi frantically flipped through the pages in her binder looking for a procedure to avert Armageddon.
“Commencing countdown.”
“Enter the stand down command!” she yelled.
“Ten.”
Lance quickly typed in the command.
“Nine.”
“It’s not accepting it!”
“Eight.”
“Then retarget the missile for Kwajalein Atoll,” Cyndi commanded.
“Seven.”
Lance typed like his life depended on it.
“Six.”
“The data cable has already detached from the side of the missile! I can’t change the target!”
“Five.”
“We can’t let it launch!” Cyndi screamed.
“Four.”
“Screw this. Stand back!” Lance jumped up and snatched his gun off the worktable.
“Three.”
BAM! BAM! BAM!
He gripped his Beretta with both hands and fired wildly into the REACT console.
Cyndi dove out of her chair to avoid being hit by shrapnel.
“Two.”
Sparks flew. Monitor screens exploded. Smoke gushed out of the console.
“One.”
Lance fired every bullet left in the clip then threw his gun at the console in a final act of desperation.
“Zero.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Zero.”
“Zero.”
