“It’s about time you all showed up,” Lynch said.
“Yeah, well, I stopped to do my nails,” Freefall replied.
“What’s that?” Fairchild asked, indicating the panel.
“Retinal scan,” Lynch said. “Unfortunately, I doubt that any of us has the proper retinal pattern to open the door. And without tools, I haven’t had much luck with it so far.”
Kat looked through the thick glass door. The door led to a small chamber only a few feet square. On the other end of the chamber was a reinforced door, similar to the one that had been on their cell. The whole set-up reminded her of an airlock. Clearly, at one time, this had been a security post. That kind of security suggested that there was something that needed to be extremely secure on the other side.
“Bulletproof glass?” Burnout asked.
“Yes,” said Lynch, “but it wasn’t made with us in mind.”
“That’s my cue,” said Fairchild, rearing back.
“No, wait!” Lynch said.
But it was too late. Fairchild punched the door with all her might. The heavy glass cracked and buckled as it flew off its track.
Instantly, the complex exploded into a pandemonium of noise. Alarms blared. Red lights flashed.
“Sorry, Mister Lynch!” Fairchild shouted over the din. “Guess Ivana knows we’re coming now!”
“I’m sure she’s already expecting us,” Lynch shouted back. “I was thinking more of that!”
The team looked up to where Lynch was pointing. Inside the small chamber, vents near the ceiling had already started pumping out jets of sickly yellow gas. There was no way to know whether the billowing clouds were de- ’ signed to leave intruders unconscious or dead. Either way, the chamber was obviously designed with the intent that the glass door would seal off the gas, preventing it from reaching anyone in the corridor. With the door broken, Gen13 had no such protection.
“I’m on it!” said Rainmaker.
Rainmaker whipped up a strong wind, powerful enough to redirect the flow of the gas and carry it far down the hallway. But redirecting it wasn’t really enough. They had to stop new gas from coming, too. Burnout studied the vents.
“Hope that junk isn’t flammable,” he said. “Everybody better back off, just in case.”
Burnout waited for his teammates to move back and flatten themselves against the reinforced walls. Once they were safely out of the way, he hit the vents with a superheated blast. To everyone’s relief, the gas neither burned nor exploded as the white-hot flame fused the vents closed. Only a small trickle of the gas continued to escape in tiny spurts.
“It’s clear!” he called.
Fairchild and Freefall rushed forward and repeated the trick that had gotten them out of their cell. Freefall negated the weight of the heavy door on the far side of the chamber to reduce its resistance as Fairchild smashed it with a kick. To her surprise, the door bent inward, but stayed in place.
“This really must be the place,” Fairchild muttered. Yet, even this stronger barrier couldn't stand up to a second kick. It crashed down to the floor beyond with a resounding, metallic clang.
The echo of the sound hadn’t even faded before Fairchild leaped over the fallen door into the adjoining room, with the rest of the team pouring in behind her .. .
... only to dive for cover. A hail of semi-automatic machine gun fire raked through the space where they’d been. Only Fairchild held her ground. The bullets hurt as they hammered her body, but they couldn’t do much more than that.
The Uzi’s rapid-fire muzzle flash cast an eerie light as it illuminated Ivana’s features from below. Her face was twisted in a grimace of hate and frustration, but she couldn’t hide the simultaneous streak of perverse enjoyment that she felt as well.
“Once and for all,” she cried, “why won’t you just dieVr ' '
Ignoring the shower of hot lead, Fairchild raised a hand to shield her face against the barrage and looked around at her surroundings. The banks of computer consoles clearly marked this room as the launch center for the complex. Yet, even if that hadn’t been enough to give it away, the huge picture window overlooking a Trident II missile would have cinched the deal. The missile stood inside an enclosed silo on the other side of the window. Only the upper portion of the missile was visible through the window. The sheer size of what could be seen—roughly seven feet in diameter, with more of the ICBM extending both above and below the window—hinted at what lay beyond. It was more than enough to send a chill down Fairchild’s spine. The sight filled her with a sense of both awe and dread.
The number of chairs and consoles suggested that the launch center had been designed to be operated by a team of several people. Somehow, though, Ivana had jury-rigged it all to a central control panel so that she could run it by herself. More important, her efforts had obviously been successful, since Fairchild could already see smoke from the missile’s jets rising in the silo.
Fairchild didn’t know whether Ivana had already set an automated countdown in motion, or whether she hadn’t yet triggered the launch. Either way, there was no way of knowing how much time was left before the missile would fly. Every second counted.
As Fairchild started toward Ivana, Ivana whipped her free hand toward her. The skin of Ivana’s hand shredded from the inside as lengthy strips of molecularized razor wire shot forth from her fingers. They sailed across the room like a pack of darting snakes.
It was one of the perks of Ivana’s years as head of the sci-tech division at I.O. that she had the opportunity to indulge her yen to improve her body in any way she saw fit. While many people might think of “surgical improvements” in terms of tummy tucks and nose jobs, Ivana had been inclined more toward bionic enhancements and sub-dermal weapons systems. Ivana’s body now held more hardware than a handyman’s shop ... or a small armory. It didn’t make it any easier for Ivana to pass through metal detectors without incident, but it did mean that her artificial skin concealed any number of truly nasty surprises.
Fairchild drew a sharp intake of breath as the razor wire whipped around her. It tore swaths through her uniform and drew blood from the skin that lay underneath— the same skin that even bullets couldn’t penetrate. The molecularized wire couldn’t cut all that deeply; Fairchild’s flesh was still too tough for that. Still, the fact that it could cut her at all was enough to alert all of Gen13 to the danger it posed.
The lethal tendrils rose toward the ceiling as Ivana reared back for a second lunge. But before she could bring them down, Freefall yelled, “I got it!” With a gesture, she increased the weight of the wire exponentially. The strands of razor wire plummeted to the floor, throwing Ivana off-balance. As long as Freefall maintained the effect, the razor wire was no longer a deadly weapon. Instead, it served as a mass of unbreakable chains that bound Ivana to the floor.
Fairchild leaped over the inert wire to reach Ivana in a single stride. Effortlessly, she bent the muzzle of Ivana’s gun with one hand, rendering it useless. With her other hand, she grabbed Ivana by the front of her blouse as the others rushed in behind her.
“You don’t get it, do you?” Ivana said with a sneer. “You’re too late! You’ve already lost!”
Lynch ran to the central control panel for the launch center. “She’s already initiated the launch!” he said, his face grim.
A small, digital counter on the panel ticked off the time to launch: 00:02:04. 00:02:03. 00:02:02.
The smoke in the next chamber was starting to thicken. The missile was vibrating faster as its engines throbbed with power.
Fairchild pulled Ivana in close. “How do we stop it?!” she yelled in Ivana’s face, louder than she intended. Ivana laughed. “You don’t! I’ve won!
“Don’t you see? I’ll never give you the code to disarm it. The missile will hit its target as planned. And once that happens, the only ones who’ll be able to prevent the end of the world will be Gen14!”
Ivana grinned nastily and added, “Of course, if you grovel sufficiently, I might consider le
tting you all join my team, too ...”
00:01:57.
Fairchild looked desperately toward Lynch. His fingers were flying across the keyboard on the panel, but to no avail. “It’s no good!” he said, his tone hinting at the urgency that he didn’t allow to cross his poker face. “Our only hope is to either find the code or get in there and stop it manually!”
In fact, Burnout and Rainmaker were already letting loose the full force of their powers as they hammered away at the window that separated them from the missile. But the portal had been built to withstand the heat and fury of the launch of an intercontinental missile. It stood up equally well to whatever flame and lightning they could muster. -
00:01:51.
“Oh, by all means, try to find the code,” Ivana said, with a mocking tone. “There are only upward of sixty million possible alphanumeric combinations. How difficult could it be to find the correct one in, oh, a minute and a half?”
Grunge stroked his chin thoughtfully as he gazed at Burnout and Rainmaker, and then down at the floor. He bent down and, gingerly touched one of the strands of razor wire. -
00:01:45.
Instantly, Grunge’s form began to change. His skin took on a silvery, metallic hue. The outer edges of his body narrowed and tapered to razor-sharp edges. Only then did Grunge realize the one downside to his scheme, as his body sliced itself right out of his clothes. His garments fell in tatters around his now-bare feet.
“Whoops,” he said.
Freefall raised an eyebrow. “Uh, pookie ... ?”
Grunge gave a resigned shrug in reply. Without a moment’s hesitation, he raced toward the window and hurled himself through the air with a cry of “COWABUNGA!”
Grunge extended his arms in front of him, as though diving through water. He met the window with the full momentum of his leap. The window had been reinforced against the wide-angle shocks associated with the rocket thrust that came with a missile launch. It had never been intended to stand up to a more narrowly targeted attack from a giant, man-sized blade. When you also factored in the fact that the molecularized razor wire was enough to cut even Fairchild’s skin, there was no way that a window was going to turn it back.
00:01:39.
There was a loud shriek as the window parted at the impact of Grunge’s fingertips. The hole widened as the rest of his body passed through. Grunge plunged through the window almost as if it wasn’t there, and fell below the view of the window. With the barrier breached, the sound of the missile’s engines became deafening throughout the control room.
Ivana’s cool sense of triumph turned to panic. “You’re insane!” she cried over the din. “Those engines aren’t designed for this! They’re supposed to ignite only after they’re safely away from the sub that launches them!” She tried to pull away from Fairchild’s powerful grip, but it was no use.
“What are you saying?” Fairchild demanded.
“I modified the system to fool the missile into thinking it was safe to ignite the engines! The heat of the rockets is incredible!”
“And... ?”
“ ‘And ...’ the only thing protecting us was the window you just broke! We’ll all be killed!”
The color drained from Fairchild’s face as she stared at the missile. Then, she turned back to her captive, pulling her close with a look of desperate fury.
“Now, will you give us the code?!” Fairchild yelled.
“Never!”
A disgusted growl came from deep in Fairchild’s throat. She released her right hand long enough to punch Ivana in the jaw. Despite the bionics that ran through Ivana’s body, the blow laid her out cold on the floor.
00:01:32.
Freefall was already squeezing her petite body through the hole that Grunge had made. However, with Grunge’s body narrowed from the change, the opening was too small for the others to fit through.
Fairchild reached her hands through the breach. She used both hands to pull one side of the tempered glass toward her as she braced her feet against the other side and pushed. Fairchild gritted her teeth as she applied all of her prodigious strength to the task. The window resisted her at first, but leverage was on her side. With a loud, creaking noise, the opening slowly widened, until it was wide enough for Burnout and Rainmaker to soar through. Fairchild started to follow them, and was halfway through when she stopped at the sound of Lynch’s voice.
“Kat!” he shouted. “Let them do it! I need you here!”
Fairchild clambered back in through the window and ' dashed to her mentor’s side. “What can I do?” she called over the noise.
“We need that code, or a way to bypass it! Between your computer skills and my understanding of security systems, maybe we can figure something out!”
Fairchild nodded and took over the keyboard. Neither of them said what both of them knew. The odds of coming up with a solution in time were so slim that it would take a miracle. But it wasn’t going to stop them from trying.
00:01:18. " " '
Inside the silo, the smoke was thick enough to make it difficult to see or even breathe, let alone do enough damage to stop the missile. The hatch at the top of the underground silo was already open. Under the circumstances, the clear, blue sky that showed through the open hatch seemed less hopeful than ominous.
Freefall floated above the worst of the smoke as she poured her strength into the strongest gravity field that she’d ever created. The missile’s natural weight already tipped the scale at approximately 130,000 pounds. Freefall strained to multiply that, hoping beyond hope that it would be more than the missile’s rockets could bear.
Already, the only one who could bear the heat at the bottom of the silo was Burnout. He’d realized that, with the casing of the missile designed to withstand the heat of reentry, his own flame would have little chance of melting through. Instead, he added his superheated plasma to the existing heat of the jets, in the hopes that the combined temperature would be enough to fuse them shut, or at least do enough damage to prevent an effective launch.
Meanwhile, more than twenty feet above Burnout, Grunge’s razor-sharp feet had tom footholds in the side of the second stage of the missile. They supported him as he used his arms to rip through the graphite epoxy casing of the missile and into whatever lay inside. Grunge had no idea what was there, or how much effect he was having, but he prayed that if he wrecked enough of it, then maybe he’d break something important.
Another twenty feet up. Rainmaker hit the missile with all the elemental fury she could muster. Even as she battered the gargantuan weapon, she simultaneously pored through her memory to recall whatever she could about nuclear missiles from the no-nukes literature she’d read. Unfortunately, though, all of the pamphlets and articles had devoted much more attention to the threats nuclear weapons posed than to ways to disarm them in a pinch. What she did remember, though, was that the detonators had to go off in a very specific way to trigger a nuclear explosion. And so, she directed her attack several feet below the nose of the missile. Perhaps she could damage the missile’s guidance systems, or set off one of the detonators out of sequence. Rainmaker knew full well that if she did manage to accomplish her goal, the resulting blast could cost her life.
But even if it did, it would save millions of others.
00:00:57.
Back in the control room, Fairchild had gently pried the faceplate of the control pane! loose so that Lynch could examine its inner workings. She took care not to lift the faceplate loo high, to avoid severing any of the wires that led to its instruments and controls.
Lynch crouched under the faceplate to study the maze of silicon chips and printed circuits that lay within the heart of the console. He probed through it with his fingers, tracing wires from the launch clock to the relevant chip, but knowing where the wires led still wasn’t enough to tell him how to stop the process. Even at a glance, it was obvious that the arrangement inside the console was far too complex to decipher in the time they had left.
L
ynch stood up and shook his head. “It’s not going to work,” he told Fairchild over the mounting roar of the engines. “We need that code!”
Fairchild gently lowered the faceplate back into place.
She glanced over at Ivana’s inert form. “But how?” she asked.
“We’ll just have to figure it out ourselves!”
Fairchild looked at the launch clock. It read 00:00:51. “There’s no time!”
“We have to try!” he replied. “Think like Ivana! What would she use as a code?”
Fairchild considered that for a second. “Well, lots of times, people pick passwords that have some kind of personal meaning, so they won’t forget them. What’s most important to Ivana?”
“Power,” said Lynch without hesitation. “Control!” Typing faster than she ever had back in her computer classes at Princeton, Fairchild entered the words as possible passwords:
Power
Control
The clock kept going.
Fairchild kept entering related words at a feverish pace, as fast as they came to mind. Lynch barked words for her to try as well. Fairchild’s fingers became a blur as they searched madly for the key to the puzzle.
Dominion
Rule
Queen
Authority
Command
Ambition . . .
None of it was making any difference. Time after time, the clock still kept going.
00:00:39. '
All the while, the team in the silo continued to hit the missile with all the force they could muster. Grunge continued to gouge his way through the casing that surrounded the second stage of the missile. As he tore deeper, he found himself pulling out hunks of an oily, waxy goop from the innards of the deadly projectile. One small comer of his mind wondered what the stuff might be, but there was no time to waste on idle curiosity. As Grunge burrowed deeper still, he scooped out handfuls of the substance and let it fall to the floor below.
Then, Grunge stopped, his attention caught by a burst of flame that erupted from below. For a moment, he thought it was the missile launching, but realized otherwise once he saw that the missile continued to stay in place. Maybe it’s Bobby, he thought, working his fire thing down there.
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