The woman looked confused and asked, “What was that? What do you mean 13:30 tomorrow?” Her confused look actually made Adam feel sorry for her.
Adam sighed and replied, “The shuttle to Earth leaves tomorrow at 13:30 hours. Be on it and don’t come back. I will contact your employer tonight and notify them that your services are no longer required nor wanted.”
That story was told to all personnel arriving in the core area. Once they actually met the man of the story and looked into his piercing eyes, they fully believed the story.
Greg Ballard entered his office and drawled, “Things are going very well. Too well, I think. Murphy and his law must’ve taken this month off.” Greg was Adam’s number-two man. He deflected a lot of tedious minutia from Adam and Adam knew it. He was trustworthy to the bone and was an excellent decision-maker.
Adam had known him most of his adult life. He had worked for Adam at Area 51. When Adam moved to CORDEX to take took over the Storm Killer project he managed to convince Greg to join him. Once Adam understood the nature of Storm Killer he desperately wanted Greg’s participation because of his formal education background.
Greg Ballard was another of those southern gentlemen of which Storm Killer seemed to have in abundance. His slow southern drawl was a counterpoint to Adam’s terse talking style. He had obtained several degrees before he was twenty-two. His last degree, a Masters in Engineering in Polymer and Fiber Science, came from Clemson. He was a member of Storm Killer’s Clemson Alumni group. They met regularly and watched the various closed-circuit sports events together to root for their alma mater.
Adam began reviewing the daily status report with him.
Greg reported that all the project’s defined tasks were completed and the station was ready for operational status. The final tweaking of Storm Killer’s optical and magnification panels was complete, as Adam had witnessed, and the station was now functioning at specified parameters. They noted the time at two hundred hours, ten minutes GMT and logged the completion entry on the project file. They electronically dated and signed the completion certificate, and emailed it to Earth Mission Control and to Brad Bolino, the new Storm Killer Director.
Adam breathed an internal sigh of relief. Now that his part of the project was wrapping up, he could think about spending some quality vacation time with his beloved Arabian horses.
9
Director Bolino
Brad Bolino was a born and bred southern gentleman that would have been as comfortable in an antebellum southern mansion as he was in a twenty-first century technological wonder. He was an auburn-haired man of stocky build.
Adam pulled his cell phone from his Velcro belt hook. The term ‘cell phone’ was almost a misnomer these days. These communications units, now called Personal Communication Devices, were actually phone, workstation, video camera, and many other devices rolled into a single pocket size unit. While the communications industry called them PCDs, the user community still held on to the archaic term of ‘cell phone’. These ‘cell phones’ were NASA-issued units that were slightly larger than the commercial devices. These had to have a large enough keypad so NASA personnel could manipulate the device to write emails and mission notes, or check engineering drawings and specs while dressed in the clumsy EVA suits with large gloves.
Adam contacted Brad on his cell phone and announced to him that effective at four hundred hours GMT, Brad would assume his role and take over the administration and operation of the station. Brad, as pre-arranged with CORDEX, accepted the transfer of power and requested that Adam and Greg act as his number two and number three staff members for the next forty-five days.
Ballard and Sands verbally accepted the new transition positions and emailed the voice files of their acceptances and congratulations to Brad. While they performed the last administrative duties in the log, Sands chatted with Bolino about current status of the station and systems. Ballard reported that Earth-side weather had reported that Hurricane Edna had risen to a category three storm and was approaching Puerto Rico. Landfall was expected in the next forty-eight hours.
This storm met all the criteria established by NASA and Washington. The criteria called for a storm that was ninety percent certain to only hit the United States. Other criteria were that the storm would be no more than a category three, and its projected path would take it over a specific section of the Atlantic Ocean where no inhabited islands existed.
Mexico, Costa Rico, and Guatemala had jointly filed strong objections with the United Nations and Washington to “any man made influences on any tropical storm that could potentially impact the sovereign territory of our countries.” These countries were concerned that Storm Killer would fail and cause even more destructive storms that could devastate their coasts. They were calling for a complete ban on full testing against any storms until such time as the scientific community had undisputable empirical evidence as to the possible effectiveness of the Storm Killer technology.
The three countries were involved in intense maneuvering at the United Nations in an attempt to force an emergency session of the Security Council. They were pleading for a resolution, pressuring the United States to cease the operations of Storm Killer until an international scientific committee could render an opinion on Storm Killer’s intended use.
Washington was attempting to stop the Security Council meeting but there seemed to be a ground swell of protesting nations. Therefore, Washington had established criteria that only storms tracking toward the east coast of the United States with more than a ninety percent probability of hitting it would be initial candidates for Storm Killer tests.
If pushed into a Security Council meeting, the U.S. ambassador could show the members the criteria and hopefully quash any vote from being taken. The entire team on Storm Killer had been made aware of this when Washington had decided on this particular course of action.
Adam grinned and glancing at his watch replied, “That’s okay. If what the eggheads say will happen happens, in a little less than sixteen hours we kill Edna. Or, we could destroy Florida, and become the poster child for Central America’s concerns.”
10
Conspiracy
The man was sitting at his workstation in his quarters reading the email announcing the completion of the station. A thin smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he finished reading.
He unhooked the phone from his belt and pressed a speed dial. He unconsciously reached for a pencil and began doodling on a piece of paper as he waited for his call to go through. The NASA mobile phone system worked everywhere. It even worked twenty-four thousand miles above the Earth’s surface.
It was just another technological wonder taken for granted by its users. Of course, these users were now housed in the world’s latest technological marvel.
The call connected with a subtle click being heard by the caller.
A voice said, “Yes?”
“Doctor, the thing is done. Adam Sand will be turning it over, in operational status, to the named long-term management team in a few minutes,” the man reported.
“Alright, my boy, please initiate our disruption plan at once,” the voice ordered.
“Yes, sir. I’ll have our mutual friend get his operative to start the crisis immediately.”
“Good. I’m sure our employers will be glad to hear things have gone awry,” the voice said, chuckling out loud.
“You’ll hear from me soon on how we’re doing at messin’ things up. I have to go to the turnover meeting now,” said the man as he stopped doodling on the paper in front of him. He keyed the phone off and replaced it in his belt as he stood up from the workstation.
He turned to the door and began walking to the management turnover meeting as the Adam Sand email had indicated. He hummed to himself and smiled as he walked briskly to the command center complex. Nobody has a clue what’s about to happen. I do believe we’ve pulled it off!
11
Incident
Storm Killer’s northern hu
b airlock was empty and inactive. The last extra-station work crew had re-entered the station at the southern hub airlock twenty minutes earlier. No one was around the northern hub at this hour.
The two indicator lamps above the keypad glowed yellow showing the airlock cycling was in idle status and both the inner and outer doors were secure.
In dead silence, the indicator lamp for the inner door changed to red as the inner door slid open three centimeters. Ten seconds later, the lamp flashed to green.
The airlock was suddenly filled with a deafening sound of air rushing out into space as the outer door slid open even when the outer door lamp flashed to green.
Something was amiss. The computer was designed to detect when the inner door was ajar and not allow the outer door to open. Two green lights meant the computer thought the doors were closed.
Storm killer’s designers had taken no chances with possibilities of computer or door sensor failures in the air lock system. They had built in a decompression sensor that alerted a backup computer system when the airlock was malfunctioning. This backup system performed as it was designed.
An emergency icon displayed and began blinking on the engineering console at the control center. The icon blinked on the screen over the picture of the airlock. Banner text ran beneath the icon reading, “Airlock failure – Northern Hub.” Simultaneously, the computer activated the station’s emergency condition sirens.
The engineering duty officer read the banner. He pulled up a live picture of the airlock on his computer monitor. His eyes widened as he saw both airlock doors open. Loose objects were being sucked out the airlock. Papers and debris were swirling through the airlock into the emptiness of space. The station’s precious oxygen supply was bleeding away!
He keyed the communications pad on his desk and raised Greg Ballard on his cell.
Greg answered, “Ballard! What the heck are the sirens about?”
The duty officer replied, “Northern hub airlock is open on both sides. The alarm is the decompression alert.”
Ballard responded, “The airlock is open on both sides? That can’t happen! What the hell kind of SNAFU is this?”
He made a snap decision and order the engineering duty officer, “Get the meteor strike repair crew up there. We may have to seal off the inner door.”
He jumped in his cart and raced to the hub elevator access point for this quadrant. He would be first on the scene unless some poor SOB was accidentally caught near that airlock. Anyone near there could be dead from lack of oxygen by now. God, I hope no one’s hurt, he thought, as he leaped on the elevator and pushed the ‘up’ button.
12
User
Kim Danby had taken a hot shower. Her short bowl-cut brown hair was towel dried. She combed through the tangled hair as she looked in the mirror and wondered. Why am I here? Nothing ever happens up here and I’m a physical and emotional wreck. With that thought, she grabbed her lower back and winced.
The old injuries from the Los Angeles riot just would not heal completely. Not only had her physical injuries not healed, neither had her mental ones.
She sighed and reached into the drawer of her washstand. She pulled out a small black leather case. She sat on the edge of the bed, unzipped the case and laid the contents out next to her.
She lifted a small vial and looked at it. About twenty CCs of cocaine hydrochloride and water mixture were left in the vial. I’ll have to mix a new batch soon, she thought.
She pulled a syringe from the bag, affixed a needle, and carefully filled it from the vial. She grabbed the large rubber tubing from the bag and using her mouth and right hand tied it tightly around her left arm. Slapping her arm a few times to raise the vein, she quickly plunged the needle in and injected herself.
She lay back on the bed and sighed again. Only a few minutes now. Only a few minutes and I’ll get some relief, she thought as she waited for the euphoric feeling from the drug to kick in.
She’d become hooked on cocaine during her recovery from the life threatening injuries sustained from the madmen who had killed her family and abused her in the riot. Whole groups of disenfranchised rioters from various ethnic backgrounds had, en mass, rioted across the country when the INS began a serious effort to deport the millions of illegal immigrants. Some riots had ended quickly with only property damage. Other riots had become extremely violent, as the one in Los Angeles, where she had lived with her family.
During her hospital stay, she had become dependent on morphine. Her doctors had weaned her from the drug and thought she was free of its effects. She hid from them that she had started regularly visiting a local drug dealer buying drugs of ever-increasing potency.
She’d tried several common drugs plus several designer drugs before settling on cocaine. Cocaine gave her a euphoric feeling and deadened the pain from her old injuries. She also seemed to get a jolt of fresh energy after using the drug. She was careful not to abuse it. She only used it when the physical pain or life’s pressures became too great.
Today’s one of those painful days, she convinced herself as the solution had disappeared into her vein.
She did without the support the drugs gave her for several months twice in her life, the first time was when she joined the police department and had to pass a drug test. The second was when she had joined CORDEX security and had to pass yet another drug test. Neither organization did random testing after hire. Nor did NASA require random testing. So once she passed the hiring phase, she felt it was safe to go back to using.
She sighed again as the wonderful euphoric feeling descended over her very soul. She lay quietly for a few minutes appreciating the warm feeling and the rush of energy.
She jumped up, put the paraphernalia in its leather case and placed the case back in her drawer.
She wasn’t worried about needing another fix today. If and when that happened, she had another small black bag in her office desk. Just a quick trip to the lady’s room and she would be good to go again.
She hummed a tune as she exited her quarters and headed back to work.
13
Buoy 41040
NOAA’s National Data Buoy Center buoy number 41040 was moored in the Atlantic Ocean one thousand kilometers east of island of Martinique.
The buoy was a six by twelve meter aluminum platform with two carbon-steel masts of weather sensors and transmission antennas projecting six meters into the air.
It was a bright yellow object easily seen by ships. It was easily seen in good weather, but, today, the buoy was invisible from only two hundred meters distance.
Hurricane Edna raged around buoy 41040. Wave crests approaching thirty meters were straining the tether, threatening the connection of the buoy to the anchor resting on the sea floor.
The waves were freaks caused by combination of factors. Edna was moving very slowly westward and had one hundred and twenty KPH winds that caused a long buildup of wave action. An ocean current moving eastward was opposing the storm’s fetch. These factors were causing the monster waves pounding buoy 41040.
Buoy 41040 was sending a signal to National Data Buoy Center saying “I’ve got something interesting here!” The NDBC acknowledge the alert and sent a request to collect real time data from the little buoy’s sensor array.
41040 began sending the data when the tether snapped. Power for the little buoy came from three sources. The first was its internal battery. This battery was charged and the systems run by solar energy when the sun was out and by a special power generation feature of the tether. The temperature difference between the deep ocean and the surface was sufficient to generate a sizable electric current using an ammonia vaporization process. Cold ocean floor water was brought to the surface to cool the ammonia. This power generation plumbing system was integral to the tether and when the tether snapped, the system failed. Since there was no sun for solar support because of Edna’s deep cloud cover, 41040’s battery had to supply the entire electrical demand of the buoy’s various systems.
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NOAA was another government agency running on a less than an adequate budget. Maintenance of the buoys was months behind schedule. 41040’s battery was at the end of its useful life. It should have been able to supply power for thirty hours, but the power reserve was less than one hour.
41040’s onboard computer detected the system failures, noted that the battery life was falling quickly and made a programmed decision to shutdown. This would leave power for the locator beacon signal that would allow NOAA to find the now helpless, drifting buoy after the storm passed.
During its brief exchange of weather data, 41040 had reported that, indeed, Edna was now a strong Category Three hurricane with some uniquely large waves. 41040 had accomplished its mission before it went to sleep.
14
Deal With It
At 0415 hours, Brad Bolino began his first senior staff meeting since assuming authority of the station. His southern drawl was in some ways a welcome change to Adam’s terse New York accent. Brad scanned the conference table and saw a senior staff whose most senior member was only forty years old. Brad himself was only forty-two, which was the upper limit by current NASA standards for long-term orbital crew.
Brad sneezed and stopped to wipe his nose with a tissue. One of the assembled staff members volunteered, “Damn bad time to come down with a cold. You’d best ask Dr. Cruz for one of her snakebite remedies.”
Brad nodded his head in reply and he again wiped his nose.
The assembled senior staff averaged thirty-three years of age. None had been in orbit prior to this mission. Based on existing regulations, they would have to rotate to ground duty every twelve months to avoid long term damage caused by hard radiation received while in orbit. Brad had only arrived the previous month and still had eleven months before his forced rotation. Others of the staff would be rotating Earth-side starting in about four months time.
Storm Killer Page 4