Schlagal finally spoke. “I agree that NASA’s data isn’t convincing enough. Solar flares can knock out some satellite reception, but the worst we’ve ever experienced is short-term disruptions, usually measured in minutes and hours, not days.”
“But the electrical grid is a little more fragile than the satcomm systems,” Guitierrez said. “It’s an interlinked system of more than 200,000 miles of transmission lines. It’s like a spider web. If you knock part of it out, it’s hard to sew back the missing threads.”
“But you can just plug in parts and keep rolling,” Alexander said. “Fill in the gaps later.”
“Not so simple,” Gutierrez said. “The grid likes to be balanced. Electricity isn’t really stored. It is distributed and consumed as it’s created. Big outages can lead to cascading failures as power re-routes to other parts of the system, including back to the power plants. A series of surges blowing out everything along the way.”
Alexander wondered why he was the unlucky officer to field this problem, driving over from the Pentagon to battle the Capitol’s weekday traffic. He couldn’t even see this as a defense issue. Homeland Security had claimed its turf and had both the psychological and political pull with Congress. Any event on American soil short of a foreign invasion was not going to involve the armed services.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s say you do have some blackouts. Even a lot of them. I still don’t see the imminent threat.”
Schlagal cut in again. “The problem is there really isn’t a repository of transformers. Parts are made as needed. We’d be at least two years behind—”
The power went out.
Alexander waited for five seconds. Gutierrez was wearing a watch with an illuminated dial. Otherwise, the room was pitch black.
“Back-up generators will kick in any second now,” Alexander said. “But I have to admit, that was a pretty nice marketing ploy.”
The room remained dark. Now he could smell Schlagal’s perfume. Gutierrez breathed like a smoker. His watch dial flickered and moved across the table, rustling papers.
“Your HQ does have back-ups, right?” Alexander said, brushing his moustache again.
“Yes,” Gutierrez said. “But back-up generators are always hard-wired into a building’s electrical system. Any surge from an electromagnetic pulse is going to short out the generators as well.”
The lights blinked once and went dark for two full seconds, then came back on. “See?” Alexander said. “These solar flares aren’t going to be anything more than a temporary inconvenience.”
“These are the first waves,” Schlagal said. “NASA said the effects are unpredictable and of unknown duration. We could have a few weeks of brownouts or we could go down in one big zap.”
Alexander wasn’t an old-school officer. He’d come up with women in the ranks and had served in the Iraqi War with female officers. And Washington was changing, as well, with women seeking—and often gaining—top positions and Congressional seats. He didn’t figure Schlagal for a political gold digger, despite her inclination to blow this minor threat out of proportion.
“I don’t have to tell you what even three days of a widespread power outage would do,” Gutierrez said, rubbing his temples as if he had a headache. “Just picture your own routine. The food in your fridge would spoil. You might get lucky at the grocery store, but there’s more likely to be a panic. Besides, the store’s fridges would be out, too.”
“A surge would affect vehicles, too,” Schlagal said. Now they were coming at him like two tag-team wrestlers who had trapped an opponent out of reach of a tag. “Electronic ignitions and computers in cars. So you’d be walking to the store. Which, of course, means no delivery trucks would be showing up with veggies and milk.”
“Christ,” Alexander said. “Don’t tell me the TSA is going to be involved, too. Those bastards don’t need any more encouragement.”
He wanted to be home, watching sports highlights and drinking a beer. His daughter Junie was in twelfth grade, and he’d been helping her with her physics. The subject had gotten much more complicated since he’d been in school. Maybe he could get some of the NASA folks over to give her some tutoring.
“I don’t think you’re taking this very seriously,” Schlagal said, eyes narrowing so that the mascara on her lashes nearly merged into two black lines.
“Okay,” Alexander said. “I could see a panic if people weren’t prepared. And your average person won’t be prepared even if you give them advance warning. Remember Hurricane Sandy? We might need some troops on standby if the National Guard and local police can’t handle it.”
“Not just grocery stores. Hospitals, police stations, and fire departments will lose not only their power but their ability to communicate. Not to mention all those planes. Do you know how many thousands of flights are in the air at any given time? And almost all those planes run on computers or have electronic components. One big pulse could knock them all out of the sky.”
“You’re making the problem so big that it’s almost pointless to plan for it,” Alexander said. “Like nuclear war. If it hits, you’re doomed anyway.”
“Sticking our heads in the sand won’t help.”
Gutierrez fell silent and pressed his palms against each side of his head. He squeezed his skull so hard that his fingers were white. His lip trembled.
“You okay, Mr. Gutierrez?” Alexander wondered why the administration let civilians make decisions about national security. They clearly couldn’t handle pressure under fire.
“As you can understand, Major, we’ve been hopping all over Capitol Hill on this,” Schlagal said. “It’s a hot potato that no one wants to catch.”
“I’m sure the Commander-in-Chief doesn’t want it anywhere near his desk,” Alexander said.
Gutierrez’s face clenched, his cheeks crinkling around his grimace. “Don’t…make this…about politics.”
The major held up his hands, palms showing. “Hey, we all know who gets the credit on those rare occasions when things go right. And we’re here when they need a fall guy. Like if this solar event becomes a real problem.”
“It’s not just a single event,” Schlagal said. “It’s a phase and a cycle. NASA says the worst is yet to come.”
“Well, in one way, if it gets worse, things get simple. We impose martial law in the name of national security. The fringe militia and the liberals will grumble, but everyone else will welcome it if it makes them feel safer.”
“I’m not so sure we can open the door for the administration to gain more power,” Schlagal said. Gutierrez appeared to be having troubled breathing. Alexander wondered if the man suffered from asthma.
“Abraham Lincoln used executive powers to the extreme,” Alexander said. “Nationalizing the banks, suspending the Fourth Amendment, and lying as a matter of policy. History remembers him as a compromiser, but he actually was a benevolent dictator. Of course, half the country would have argued about the ‘benevolent’ part.”
“Half the country might be in the dark next week,” Schlagal said.
As if to punctuate her statement, the lights flickered again. Alexander frowned and glanced at his laptop computer. Even though it had a battery back-up, the screen went blank. “Okay, then. I’ll kick it up the chain of command.”
Gutierrez stood, shoving his chair backward so hard that it tipped over. He clenched his fists and pounded them on the tabletop in time with each word he uttered. “There…is…no…chain.”
The major didn’t like the way the guy’s dark eyes glittered, as if the wiring behind them had shorted. Maybe he had snapped from the stress. Not all that surprising for a civilian, but worrisome because other lives might depend upon his actions and decisions. Alexander needed to take control of the situation immediately.