Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) (12 page)

“You’re planning to shanghai the station and its crew,” Secretary Herman said. “That’ll piss off the neighbors.”

“Actually with the exception of the Russians, we’re bringing the crew down,” Al said. “We want to keep them in the loop because they’ve got experience that’ll be useful. We’re not planning to tell anyone else unless we have to.”

“So I make some calls,” Secretary Herman said. “Talk nice, but keep them in the dark.”

“The other problem is that we want to start launching today,” the Science Advisor said.

“Don’t we have to notify China and Russia before we put something in orbit?” the Vice-President asked. “So they don’t shoot it down?”

“Yeah,” John nodded. “Usually an announcement goes through channels and we give them a couple weeks heads-up. I know, we haven’t got a couple weeks."

“Can you call the Russians and Chinese to give them an informal notice?” Al said.

John shook his head. “We haven’t had formal communications with China since Taiwanese separatists bombed that hotel in Beijing last year,” John said. “For the last five months they’ve stonewalled us.”

“What about the Russians?” Al asked. “Maybe they can pass the word.”

“Not likely,” John said. “Last time I talked to Tatianna Kozin I had to have her tracked down on a ski vacation. She’s a good Ambassador, but now that China’s the big kid in town the Russians’ focus is there.”

“So there’s no open channel?” President Hutton said. “Could we keep from starting another world war if we just start launching?”

Gene Reynolds cleared his throat and everyone stopped. “I suppose we could send them mixed messages. Then they’ll have to come talk.”

“What do you mean?” President Hutton said.

“They may not be listening to our diplomats,” he said, “but I guarantee they’re still watching our military. If we don’t do anything else that looks provocative, then the launches will make no sense to them. They’ll have to come ask.”

“And if they don’t?” John asked.

“Then we’ll all be dead a long time before that asteroid gets here,” Dick said.

***

Outside Stormhaven:

If ever there was a frozen layer of hell, this was it and Shapiro had a feeling he was going to be condemned to this incarnation of purgatory a lot longer than he wanted. The sun struggled to force its way through a thin veil of fog but gave no indication of producing enough warmth to get his blood flowing.

He heard the trucks bouncing up the rutted road before he saw them. “About damned time,” he grumbled. Rolling out of the mist, three black SUV’s and a cube-truck that looked like a reclaimed U-Haul van pulled up along the ridgeline to circle in front of his position. He shook his head, wondering if they could have made themselves more obvious if they’d tried.

Of course, from what he’d seen of Stormhaven, it wouldn’t have mattered if they’d been under a foot tall and covered in dried prairie grass.

He squinted while the crud kicked up from the ground slashed at his face like ice-edged razor blades. After several seconds the cloud dissipated to the point where he could open his eyes again.

“Damn, you look like hell.” The first of the agents stood in front of him with his hand out. “Jake DeMarko, Strategic Analysis.” The man was at least a head taller than Shapiro and had a little-boy grin that looked out of place on his line-backer physique.

Behind him, a short, sturdy woman was almost eclipsed by his bulk. She stuck her hand around him, introducing herself, “Catherine Watkins. IT Specialist.” She looked at him with piercing blue eyes and forced a smile onto her face, even though the cold made it look like her skin was already starting to crack.

A short, dark-haired agent stood back near the side of a truck and nodded, “Paul Abrams. Tactical Specialist.” He didn’t venture a smile, but it looked like he might be the type who’d have surgery to permanently immobilize his face. Not a trace of personality escaped his grimace.

“And I am your Electronic Surveillance Specialist, Dennis Schimmel.” A fourth man hopped out of the cab of the cube-truck, smiling as he bounced over to shake hands. “Anyone tell you that you look like hell?”

“So I’ve heard,” Shapiro said. He looked at the back of the big truck. “Any room in there to sit?”

“Not much. I’ve got three techs and a buttload of gear,” Schimmel said, shattering his hope of getting warm.

“Fine, let’s jump into my office and I’ll fill you in.” Doug opened the door to his SUV and then added, “You might as well tell them they aren’t going to get anything. We’re still more than a half mile from the target.”

“No problem,” he said, “We’ll just drop repeaters with an RPV drone."

“So have you been briefed on the situation?” Shapiro asked once they’d settled in. He set his satellite uplink system on the dashboard where everyone could see it.

“Preliminarily,” Watkins said. “This is supposed to be an in-and-out operation.”

“Right. Welcome to reality,” Shapiro snorted. “Yesterday I thought I’d just walk up to the door too. Not a chance.”

“What’s the issue?” She looked across the distance, picking up his binoculars to scan the front of the community.

“Look at where we are,” Shapiro said. “This is so far outside of nowhere it might as well be Mars."

“If all you need is someone to cover your ass, why didn’t you just call in the locals?” DeMarko asked.

“Too much risk of exposure."

“Exposure to what?” Schimmel linked his epad into the network from the surveillance rig.

“They sent you out without a full briefing?” Shapiro asked.

“I guess not,” Watkins said, shrugging.

“Ok then, this is need-to-know. This info is known to only a handful of people in Washington, and unfortunately, to at least one person in there.” Shapiro punched up the orbital graphic on his screen.

“Oh,” Watkins said. “So we’re supposed to keep that... shit, if word gets out—“

“Exactly,” Shapiro said.

“So this isn’t a brute force operation,” Shapiro said. “We need to finesse it until we know how many know."

He reached up and punched in another command, opening the background files on Stormhaven. “That isn’t just a corporate office we’re looking at either, it’s apparently some kind of community. There may be hundreds of people living there. Possibly kids. We don’t know what we’re getting into,” Shapiro said. “They’ve also got some shit in there that would scare the snot out of DARPA."

“If they do, you can bet we know about it.” Abrams snorted.

“I doubt it. I saw something last night that you’ll have to see for yourself.” He glanced out the window toward the sky. “We need to use caution.”

“Then let’s set up, and figure out how to take them down,” Schimmel said, opening the door to help with the RPV deployment.

“We’ve got some time here, why don’t you do a few Z’s?” DeMarko suggested.

“We’ll get some baseline work done,” Watkins agreed. “If you’re right about this, then we’ll need you to be fully loaded before we go in.”

“Maybe you’ve got a point,” he said. His guts told him they might be right and he might not get another chance for a while. Reclining the seat and shutting his eyes, he was asleep before they got out of his truck.

***

Xichang Launch Center, Sichuan Province, China:

General Jiang Xintian stood on the roof of the Launch Control Building watching the crawler edging its way across the ground toward the concrete apron. The stars had retreated in gradual waves, crystals dissolving under the promise of warmer daylight, but this morning the wind was unpleasant and slashing. The familiar smell of damp earth stuck in his nostrils under a painful layer of frost.

The General was a tall thin man with considerable age showing in his features despite his vigorous lifestyle. He liked to escape to the observation deck and take in the sight of the spaceport, so he climbed the seven floors from his office to the rooftop every morning to watch the sunrise. This morning he stayed longer, watching the
Chang Zheng
make its way to the pad.

He leaned against the railing, looking down toward the parking lot. The first busload of staff was just making its way into the lobby. Fifty fresh faces, struggling to meet the morning.

A blast of frigid air surged up the face of the building, hurling shards of ice crystals like razor blades. He spun back from the edge, and flipping his collar up to protect his neck, darted toward the warm interior of the building.

He knew his day was about to officially begin, and he needed to be at his desk managing the first of a million tasks. Normally, this close to a launch, he would have been in the city pushing his way through the bureaucratic cacophony, but this mission was the first of the new Forced Reaction Development Experiment modules being shipped to the Amundsen Laboratory.

This had been his project from the moment of its inception and now that it was approaching first deployment, he could feel the pride that a weapon so advanced that the United States could not rival its power would bring to the PRC. Ultimate technological superiority for his people was almost at hand.

Because of its importance, the existence of this project had been kept a total secret. He felt personally responsible for watching it until the minute when it made its ascent.

Tomorrow, if the weather held.

Brushing the frost off his overcoat he leaned over the stairwell railing. Below him he could hear footsteps clamoring up the steel stairs. “General Jiang, are you up there?” His secretary’s voice echoed up the vertical shaft.

“I am,” he barked.

“You have a call from the Intelligence Analysis Division,” she shouted. “Administrator Liu is holding for you.”

“I am on my way,” he said, sudden concern rushing him down the six landings to his floor.
Has there been a breach in security?
Perhaps the US has a spy in our operation?

Breathless, he fell into his seat and stared at the face of the Administrator on his comdesk. The analyst eyed him coolly as the General gasped. “Yes Liu, what is it?"

“Good morning, General,” the Administrator smiled. “I trust I did not cause you undue alarm. This is not anything to do with your,
experiment.
”

“Then what is it?” he asked, frustration creeping into his voice.

“I have a disturbing bit of information from the United States and since we are currently monitoring a political incident of some magnitude, I am hoping that you could examine this and give me a report on the matter."

“You know that I am involved with launch preparations,” Jiang said. “You must have someone that can handle this?"

“This is a matter of some scientific curiosity,” Liu said. “I am sure you could evaluate this matter with far more clarity than my people.”

“As I said I have little time at the present, but if you are patient, then perhaps I can look into it,” the General said.

Opening a satellite image of the Kitt Peak Observatory on the General’s comdesk, Liu said, “As you can see, several days ago military units stormed this Observatory in Arizona and arrested a group of astronomers. This situation appears to be most unusual.”

“Indeed,” the General said, noticing the low angle of the telescope. “Do you know what they were observing?”

“Unfortunately, we do not,” the Administrator said. “According to the information we have, the specific building in question is the nine meter binocular telescope, the lead astronomer taken into custody was Dr. Carter Anthony."

The General’s heart dropped a beat. Or two. He held his face as if frozen in stone. “I know of him,” he said. “I will look into this immediately.”

***

Stormhaven:

“Damn it Cole, why didn’t you talk to me a year ago?” Tom said, staring at his reflection in his office window. He didn’t usually talk to himself, but he also hadn’t spent two sleepless nights under the merciless glare of the executioner either.

“Would you like me to have Mr. Taylor link in so you may ask him yourself?” Mica asked, startling him with its unexpected response.

“I doubt it would make a difference,” Tom said.

“Actually, he has expressed several times that he had a plan for dealing with the requirements of licensing the
Dancing Star
,” Mica said.

“Right,” Tom said. “It’d be nice if he’d include me in his plans for a change.”

“I believe his thinking with regards to the
Dancing
Star
have changed in the last forty-eight hours,” Mica said. “It may be possible that he was not intending the sequence of events to unfold as they have. Predicting probabilities is not a skill that human beings usually possess.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tom said, walking over to his desk and pulling out a chair. Sighing, he laid his head down on his arms and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer for inspiration.

“Hello Tom?” Cole said, shaking Tom’s shoulder gently. “I think the vacant sign’s lit, but nobody’s at the desk.”