Transition

TIME TO STRATEGY EXECUTION: 59 DAYS

It took an hour of invasive medical procedures following an emergency court order for federal authorities to find the transceiver that enabled Frank Lanton to communicate with his followers. The coincidence of activity at the Golden Biosphere Observation Station with the progress of our call was strong enough for probable cause, and the end of all Savior of the Apocalypse operations following discovery of the transceiver was ample evidence that it was justified.

Sally was officially authorized to use some of her bandwidth helping with the follow-up investigations, and retroactively authorized for her role in stopping the siege of the station. Over two hundred participants in Lanton’s global assault have so far been arrested, and are likely to be prosecuted along with their leader for attempted omnicide, just as Mark Linster and his collaborators were tried for crashing the WICO servers. Charges related to international terrorism will also be added, which could result in sentences that include lifelong incarceration or worse.

The newly freed Boulder field office hosted a party last night to celebrate the end of the threat and the fact that no one was harmed. Maura’s family joined Al Menzies as special guests, along with a dozen of her friends from the Extinction Response Unit. Sally attended as well, appearing as a lifelike hologram using a prototype projector that was delivered especially for the party. Ambassador Lazlo called half-way through the party to thank everyone for working through the threat and to give a pep talk about the hard deadline that’s less than two months away.

Afterwards, during a walk around the office grounds, Maura gave me the good news that my job with WICO is secure, and then told me that I don’t have to pack for the move to Q.A. headquarters. “The last two weeks have shown that you can be a lot more useful here,” she explained.

“I like to think I can be useful anywhere, including back there with you and the team.” Mostly with you, I wanted to say.

“I believe that’s true,” she said meekly, “but going back isn’t going to work for us.”

Words escaped me, silence being a perfect metaphor for the emptiness that I felt. She gripped my hand, and the strange sense of wellbeing filled most, but not all, of the emptiness. I took a deep breath and forced out the words I’d been afraid to ask since having what I considered my best idea blown off by Ambassador Lazlo: “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow. I’ve got a lot to do, and not much time to do it.”

“I wish you could stay,” I blurted, expecting this would be my last chance to say it.

She silently squeezed my hand, enhancing the wellbeing effect, and then slowly started to giggle.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

The giggling grew into a full-throated laugh, and she turned to face me. Those eyes began to transport me somewhere else, and I barely noticed her biting her lip in order to speak. “That… will… make it… really… hard to… pack up my apartment.”

That jolted me back to reality. “What?”

She grinned. “I’ll be more useful here too.”

Reality Check

Just being true to my characters. I’ve been extremely lucky to experience that kind of deep connection with another person, and we’ve now been married for almost fifteen years.

Standoff

TIME TO STRATEGY EXECUTION: 60 DAYS

It was sheer luck that I was miles away when it started, having spent most the morning at TC-013 whose location so far remains secret from the public.

Maura must have been miserable being trapped in a tiny instrument shack with Al while around them dozens of fanatics shouted “Let Him come!” over and over again. I’m sure it wasn’t a picnic for him either, which he would let her know with the colorful language he’s an expert at making up. 

I found out about their situation from Sally, who intercepted satellite calls between the captors after they cut the land lines and jammed all cellular phones in the area. “Lanton is expected there in 23 minutes,” she told me after describing the situation, “and your relationship with him could help get them out.” When I asked her how to circumvent the communications problem, she pointed out that law enforcement officers on the scene were well-equipped to deal with it. “I already briefed Maura’s father, who is now arriving and can help you get what you need.”

The shack is an integral part of the Golden Biosphere Observation Station (GBOS), which was part of the global network of monitoring equipment used in the biosphere assessment. It was reactivated soon after the WICO server attack wiped out much of the data collected during that effort, and Maura was there to help certify completion of its final verification testing. Al was one of the chief designers of the network, and apparently had been asked to be available in case there were any unforeseen problems.

Half an hour later I easily found Andy Riddick, his bright red and gray hair towering above a huddled group of F.B.I. agents just inside the gate that surrounds the station. Riddick is a former agent himself, and once held command status in the Continental Security Force stationed in Colorado Springs. “Where’s the Extinction Response Unit?” I asked him after introducing myself to the group, not seeing any of their bright green vests anywhere.

“They’re stuck in Denver,” he said, pulling me aside, “all except my daughter.” He nodded to the wall of shouting people surrounding the shack a quarter-mile away, some with signs and some with automatic weapons. “A lot more of them are in a standoff there, which is why there’s hardly anyone here.”

“Has Reverend Lanton arrived yet?”

“He’s delayed. We just heard that the local cops caught him in a roadblock and will bring him after they’re done questioning him.”

“What’s the plan here? Wait and get him to talk them down?”

“Just like Sally suggested,” he confirmed. “Do you think you can reason with him?”

“He seemed reasonable the last time we spoke. Well, except for wanting to bring on the apocalypse.”

“He’s on his way, here in twenty minutes,” one of the agents said just loud enough to be heard above the shouts.

“Any way I can start the dialog early?” I asked, feeling like I was going to jump out of my skin.

Three minutes later I was ready to talk to Lanton on one of the F.B.I. satellite phones, with Sally recording the call and relaying it to the agents. “No one’s building a case here,” Andy told me. “Just say what you need to say.”

“Hi, Frank,” I greeted Lanton when the call was connected.

“Hello, Will,” he said. “Sorry your friends got caught up in this.”

“Really?” I asked authentically. It wasn’t a good sign that he was starting with a lie.

“I’m sorry that they happen to be your friends,” he corrected.

“Decent people at the wrong place, at the wrong time,” I said while watching the shack, and noticed a couple of people with backpacks heading toward one of the station’s two towers. “What’s the end game here, Frank? It looks a few of your people are getting bored.” Andy and the agents were now anxiously following my gaze.

“We’ll let them go,” he said, “after we take down the instruments of evil.”

“What does that mean?” The meaning was obvious, but I wanted him to elaborate.

The shouting stopped abruptly, all except for one man who sounded like he was issuing instructions.

“If they do what they’re told, their role will become irrelevant.”

Suddenly I had an idea what he meant. During a tour here two years ago, I had learned that parts of the tower structures, including fences around their bases, were electrified when being operating unmanned; that made them part of a deadly security defense. As I recalled, the power would need to be cut off from inside the shack before someone could sabotage them or bring them down.

“You’re not planning on blowing up the towers, are you?” I asked, realizing that time had run out for anything but blunt talk.

“That’s one of the things I like about you, Will. You know when nuance isn’t justified.”

“The shack isn’t going to be in the way is it?” I pushed.

“You mean your friends in the shack,” he corrected.

“Well?” I asked, buying time and hoping that Sally had found some way to sabotage their plan.

“We’re not murderers, Will.”

Just then, the people surrounding the shack parted like an unwound coil and a woman opened the door. Maura and Al emerged and began walking toward us. Al was clearly shaken; but Maura looked relieved even at that distance, and closed her eyes while walking.

The rest threw their guns to the ground and ran out of sight behind the towers. “It’s been nice talking to you, Will,” Lanton said.

“Thanks, Frank,” I said, expecting a flash any moment. Seconds later there was a flash near the base of the closest tower, but nothing else happened.

“Run!” Andy called out to Maura and Al.

Al broke into a run, but Maura kept walking, grinning widely with her eyes still closed.

Reality Check

This is, of course, pure fiction.