“Unless we give him the mothership, correct?” Turcotte asked. “Correct.”
“Where is he now?”
“Space Command has tracked the Talon into orbit.” “How about taking out the satellite?” Turcotte asked. Quinn quickly explained.
“So in other words we have to seize control back?” Turcotte summarized.
“Unless we can get to Final Option before he sends out a targeting matrix,” Quinn said. “Has our Tesla expert arrived yet?” Turcotte asked.
“Chopper’s inbound, five minutes out.”
“We can’t wait. We’re lifting now.” Turcotte grabbed Quinn as the man turned to go. “Did Majestic use implants?”
“‘Implants’?”
Turcotte tapped the back of his head. “Did they put something in my head?”
Quinn shook his head. “No, sir. I never heard of Majestic doing that to anybody. They used the EDOM device to mess with memories, but no implants.”
“Great.”
Orbit
Aspasia’s Shadow looked over Thayer’s shoulder at the laptop screen. A map of the world was displayed. He pointed as he spoke.
“New York, Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Tokyo, Osaka-Kyoto, Los Angeles, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, London, Moscow, Calcutta, Bombay, Seoul — scratch that last one”—he said with a laugh—“already taken care of. Let’s see. Chicago, Lima, Paris, St. Petersburg, New Delhi, Tehran, Shanghai, Bangkok, Cairo.”
As Aspasia’s Shadow listed each city, Thayer moved the small pointer on the screen to the spot and clicked. A small red triangle appeared over each.
Aspasia’s Shadow smiled. “Let’s throw in Sydney, Athens, Baghdad, and Atlanta just for fun and an even twenty-five.”
Thayer marked each of the additional cities. “All programmed into the target matrix for five nuclear warheads each.”
“Send it.”
CHAPTER 15: THE PRESENT
“What do you have?” Turcotte asked Kincaid. They were in the control room, watching the computer display that the JPL man had rigged, which was currently forwarding information from Space Command tracking Aspasia’s Shadow’s Talon. It was currently in orbit, moving to the east.
“Give me a second,” Kincaid said. He tapped the screen. “He’s heading somewhere. No need for him to be moving.”
“Where?”
Kincaid hit the touch pad and made a few adjustments, extending out the flight path of the Talon. “There.” A small dot was directly on the flight path. “What’s that?” Turcotte asked. “The International Space Station.” “And Final Option?”
“The platform is here. Directly above Kansas.”
“Seal us up,” Turcotte ordered Yakov. He turned to Manning. “Get your men ready. We’ve got an immediate mission.”
“Sir—” Major Quinn was holding his hand up, almost like a schoolchild, the other hand pressing the earpiece tightly to his head so he could hear whatever was being transmitted.
“What?”
“Space Command has copied a target matrix that was just transmitted by the Final Option Mission.” “Targets?”
“Twenty-five cities around the world.” Quinn was looking at his Palm Pilot. “It looks to me as if he’s targeted them by population.” Quinn rattled them off quickly. “New York, Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Tokyo, Osaka-Kyoto, Los Angeles, Buenos Aires, Rio de Janeiro, London, Moscow, Calcutta, Bombay, Chicago, Lima, Paris, St. Petersburg, New Delhi, Tehran, Shanghai, Bangkok, Cairo, Sydney, Athens, Baghdad, and Atlanta.”
Turcotte just stared at Quinn.
“All targeted,” Quinn said, not sure if Turcotte had understood him. “By our own weapons.”
Quinn couldn’t tell if it was a question or statement. “Yes, sir.”
“So it’s too late to take out the platform.” “Yes, sir. The only way we can stop those nukes is to regain control of the computer.” “Which is where?”
“I would say in the Talon with Aspasia’s Shadow. Barksdale confirms there is no one in the LCC and the mainframe there is off-line. Aspasia’s Shadow must have a laptop on board the Talon with a satellite link.”
Turcotte turned to look at Yakov. The Russian had a bottle of some clear liquid, from which he took a long drink, then held it out to Turcotte. The Special Forces officer shook his head. “My head hurts enough already.”
“I always tell you things can get worse,” Yakov said. Turcotte ignored the Russian’s comment.
“Also—” Quinn dragged the word out. “What?”
“Kaong”—Quinn glanced at his laptop screen—“he wants to speak to you.” “About?” “Aspasia’s Shadow has issued the UN an ultimatum.”
Turcotte walked over stood next to Quinn, looking down at the face on the screen. “Deputy Secretary General, what can I do for you?”
The Deputy Secretary General was listening to someone to his left, the sound muted. He reached forward and fiddled with something, then his voice came out of the small speakers. “We have received an ultimatum from Aspasia’s Shadow. If we give him the mothership he will relinquish control of the Final Option Missile.”
“‘We’?” Turcotte asked. “You don’t have the mothership, sir.” He indicated the space around him. “We control it. Area 51 controls it.”
Kaong frowned. “I don’t understand what you are saying, Major. You work for UNAOC.”
“I didn’t see anybody from UNAOC when I was on Everest,” Turcotte said. “Or helping Yakov on Ararat. Or when Quinn and Kincaid were being attacked at Area 51. You, sir, don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. You don’t know Aspasia’s Shadow. We do. He cannot be trusted.”
“But he contacted the United Nations,” Kaong said. “And he is threatening your country along with many member nations. I am—”
Turcotte shook his head. “We’ll deal with Aspasia’s Shadow first. Then we’ll deal with the others.” “The others?”
“I don’t have time for this.” Turcotte reached down and cut off the transmission. He walked back to the pilot’s seat and took his place. “Are we sealed?” he asked Yakov.
“Yes.”
“All right.” Turcotte put his hands on the controls and the mothership lifted.
Who would have thought a lock was needed on the airlock hatch for the International Space Station?
Aspasia’s Shadow jetted across the narrow space between his Talon and the space station and simply spun open the manual latch on the outside lock. He slid inside and shut the hatch behind him. He removed his space helmet, then opened the inner airlock. There was a man floating in the narrow corridor, blocking his way and holding a crowbar, apparently the only weapon the crew of the station could come up with on short notice.
Aspasia’s Shadow tucked the spear he had retrieved from the Talon’s armory under his arm and pressed the indentation set in its haft. A golden bolt hit the man, knocking him unconscious. Aspasia’s Shadow flexed his legs and pushed off, swinging the airlock hatch shut behind him. He let go and floated through the center of the chamber, shoving the unconscious man out of the way. The far hatch was closed and when he reached it, Aspasia’s Shadow discovered the latch wouldn’t move. He peered into the small glass and saw a woman looking back at him. He knew there was a crew of three on board the station, two Americans — a man and a woman — and one Russian.
He didn’t have time for games. He edged back slightly from the hatch and aimed the spear at it. He adjusted the power setting and fired, keeping the trigger pressed. The golden beam hit the center of the door. After a couple of seconds, the metal began to buckle. Aspasia’s Shadow let go of the button as the hatch crumpled open. He heard the airlock behind him open and glanced back as Captain Thayer entered, his laptop and small satellite radio tucked under one arm.