Storm Killer

by Benjamin Blue

  There were two people kneeling in prayer as he entered the chapel. He sat in the third pew and pretended to pray. He waited until both people rose and left the chapel. He quickly reached under the pew, felt for the tape and found the pocket. He extracted a folded piece of paper and slipped it into his trousers pocket.

  Rafael rose from the pew and slowly walked to toward the rear of the chapel. As he approached the door, he stopped, turned around to face the altar and said a prayer that no one would be hurt through his past or future actions. He was on his way out when the chaplain entered the chapel. When he saw Rafael, he waved and approached. “Rafael, I’m so glad to see you! Are you as upset as I am about what has transpired? Isn’t it awful? So many dead.”

  Rafael immediately felt in peril, his breathing quickened and his heart rate began to increase. “What do you mean? Who’s dead? Where? When? How?”

  The chaplain said in a sorrowful voice, “It’s truly terrible. Someone sabotaged the station’s guidance system and Storm Killer has caused the death of many people on Earth. How many is still being determined, but the number is well over two-dozen. It’s so bad that the President has ordered the station be destroyed if our command personnel cannot regain control in a very short time frame. And we lost Sanford Smith, our hydroponics technician, a little earlier when the sabotaged flying lab fell out of Core City. He was killed by shards of broken crystal hitting him like deadly flack. Tragic.”

  Rafael’s very soul withered at the mention of so many deaths attributed to his actions. This isn’t the way it is supposed to have happened! I am a murderer! My God, what have I done? Rafael screamed silently to himself.

  Rafael staggered toward a pew and pressed his hands to his head.

  The chaplain noted Rafael’s face paling and his obvious overwrought reaction to the news. “Rafael, are you alright? Can I get you some water? I know this thing is bad, but you cannot take it so personally!”

  “No. Ah. No. I’m all right. Just a little overwhelmed from all of the events and tired from working twenty-four hours straight. You, ah. You know how it is,” Rafael’s speech stumbled badly. With that, Rafael forced a small smile and quickly left the chapel.

  The chaplain watched him walk away and turned to deal with his own problems.

  Rafael walked to the end of the corridor connecting the chapel to the main public walkway. He stopped, glanced around to ensure his privacy and opened the piece of paper he had retrieved from the chapel.

  MEET ME AT CLOSET 21 AT 1000 Hours.

  The boss is actually going to meet me? Rafael mulled over in his mind. This had never happened before and based on Rafael’s understanding, it was never suppose to occur. What had happened to require his superior to give up his anonymity?

  Rafael felt another electric wave of fear flow through his body. This wasn’t good! The deaths caused by Rafael’s actions in the command and control center must be the reason for the face-to-face meeting.

  Rafael glanced at his watch and saw he still had twenty minutes to get to the closet, only ten minutes away.

  He began walking toward the closet and suddenly stopped short. A phrase the boss had used once on the phone came back to Rafael. It was a conversation held on Earth about two months before Rafael was to arrive on Storm Killer. The boss had been explaining to him how the dead drops would work. Rafael had asked, “Will I ever actually meet you?”

  “No. We’ll never meet. Under no circumstances will you learn my identity! We must maintain anonymity so that if you’re caught and questioned, you’ll not be able to identify me, nor any of my other ‘associates’. We must maintain our security.”

  Rafael suddenly felt very confused. The boss had said they would never meet. Now, they were going to meet. Had the deaths caused by his actions made Rafael expendable to his employer? If the boss was determined that protecting his own identity was of paramount importance, why would he suddenly want to meet and allow me to know who he really is? Rafael asked himself.

  It was obvious that if anonymity were critical to his boss, then this meeting would mean that the boss thought Rafael would never be able to identify him to anyone. This could only be done by one of two methods, thought Rafael. The boss could show up wearing some disguise so that Rafael couldn’t identify him, or the boss planned that Rafael would be in no condition to pass his identity on to anyone else.

  Rafael staggered and grabbed a nearby railing to brace himself from falling. It burst onto Rafael’s thoughts that his life was in danger. The boss had known what the results would be from Rafael’s attack on the command center of Storm Killer. He had known that deaths would occur. The boss was never going to leave him alive once they actually met! He was expendable at this point and was just a loose end to the boss’s plans. Rafael’s breath was now coming in ragged gasps.

  He reached in his back pocket and pulled out the small item he had removed from the station’s control console. The item was a single tiny microchip that provided the intelligence to control Storm Killer’s long-term station keeping capabilities. The sub-processor still in the control center had sufficient storage resources to hold only short-term single orbit tactical station keeping data. The unit in Rafael’s hand provided the long-term tactical computational support that refreshed the sub-processor every five minutes.

  In less than fifty minutes time, the station would be without any tactical station keeping positional control. The Storm Killer beam would begin to sweep widely around Earth as the station lost position. Either Storm Killer’s station keeping would have to be restored or the beam would have to be cut off. Until that time, Storm Killer’s heat cone would slowly move to the west as the computer attempted to keep the station positioned on one point on the Earth. Without real time updates, the computer would slowly lose the war against the ever increasing computational errors introduced by the lack of updates.

  Little did the station crew or Rafael know that Rafael’s “boss” had, a short time before, short-circuited several control systems in the station’s station SKIDS system. There was now no way to turn off the heat and light being reflected and magnified to the ground. The SKIDS would simply continue to properly position the array of polymer film for maximum effect on the ground.

  He scanned the area around him. The walls were smooth with no openings. There was nowhere to hide the tiny device.

  Rafael looked at the tiny microchip and made an instant decision. He pulled a used chewing gum wrapper from the ever-present pack in his shirt pocket. He pulled the foil wrapper out of the paper sleeve and opened up the paper sleeve. He tightly wrapped the chip in the paper. Then, opening up the foil, he carefully wrapped the chip in the aluminum foil. After inspecting his handiwork, he placed the wrapped chip in his mouth and swallowed it.

  The boss could not be allowed to find it, if he, indeed, did incapacitate Rafael. He walked to a small communications console set in a pedestal next to the railing he had been holding on to. He spoke a short voice mail message marked urgent to his sister.

  “Sis, I’m sure the boss is going to kill me. I’m to meet him in a few minutes at the closet where I knocked out the policewoman. Tell Adam Sand that I’ve got the station’s missing microchip. I wrapped it in chewing gum wrappers and swallowed it to make sure the boss doesn’t get his hands on it. I’m pretty sure the boss lied when he said the station stores had a replacement chip. I think he’s probably done something with the spares. In a very few minutes the station will be completely out of control. Tell the policewoman she can catch us if she hurries to closet 21. If you can make me vomit up this chip, maybe the station can be saved. Goodbye, sis, I’m so sorry I got you into all of this crap. I love you.”

  With that, Rafael hit the buttons that requested immediate delivery of the voice message. The system would locate Francine and deliver the message in a very few minutes. Rafael keyed off the communication pedestal and began a slow walk toward closet 21.

  38

  Uncontrolled Control

  Layne was sweating
profusely from the heat generated by the laser torch as it ate through the control room bulkhead. He was now cutting a hole large enough to allow him to enter the room.

  He first cut two small holes into the bulkhead. The first was as high up as Layne could reach. To this hole he attached a hose from a compressed air tank rolled in at Layne’s command. The second hole was low on the bulkhead and now held a hose attached to a pump that was pulling the old air from the room beyond. These would force fresh air into the room and help the station’s air system remove the remains of the knockout gas that Denuza had introduced to the room.

  The melted piece of bulkhead fell inward at a soft nudge of Layne’s hand. It hit the interior floor with a loud clank. Layne stuck his head through the opening and saw two of the technicians beginning to stir. One was making pawing motions with his hands. Another was kicking wildly at the ceiling with his legs. Both still had their eyes closed and spittle was still running from the corners of their mouths. “The gas must be diluted enough. The technicians are starting to come out from under the gas effects,” thought Bartlett as he worked his way into the control center through the hole he had just cut. The edges of the hole were still extremely hot from the laser torch. He yelled back to Adam, “Watch out, the edges are hot as hell.”

  Adam climbed through the hole, while avoiding touching the still hot edges. He stood up and took in the scene before him. Every alarm on the control room’s navigation station was on. Blinking and solid red lights covered the status board at the command station.

  Two technicians entered the room behind him and ran to take up positions at the navigation and command consoles. The technicians and Layne became extremely busy as they inspected various output devices and addressed the errors each represented. Within minutes all alarms had ceased. Except for one. Adam reviewed the navigation board and his heart sank. The board indicated that the station-keeping computer that kept the station properly positioned was not receiving any updates from the master navigation computer. This meant that the station-keeping computer had a very limited time before it would be unable to keep the station in any stable position.

  The technician on navigation opened an access door, looked inside, and then turned to Layne. He looked terrified as he said, “The master processor chip is missing! We’ve got about fifty minutes before the station’s positioning control ceases.”

  Layne immediately opened his cell phone, dialed the quartermaster, and ordered a spare chip be brought up from the station stores. The quartermaster told the tech that a new chip was on the way up and should be there in a couple of minutes.

  Layne’s cell phone sounded. The quarter-master’s nervous voice could be heard all over the control center. “There is no spare! The station’s stores inventory says we have two spares. But the bin is empty! Someone must have taken them.”

  Bartlett gave Adam a questioning look and then said to the quartermaster, “Keep looking. Maybe they’re just misplaced in another parts bin.”

  Adam opened his cell phone and dialed the Security number. Hoch answered, as the cell system had computed that his current location was closest to the caller. Hoch had just delivered the doctor to her residence to clean up from her interrogation.

  “Hoch here,” he answered.

  “Dan, it’s Adam. The damage to control center is irreparable. Denuza stole a microchip that is critical to station’s control system. The station stores have no spare. We’ve got about fifty minutes before Storm Killer becomes a very dangerous, massive, rogue weapon that will be sweeping lines of destruction, at random, across the face of the Earth. As it is now, she will slowly began drifting her heat beam west. This drift will become more pronounced as the computations become aged due to the lack of fresh updates from the master computer.”

  Hoch had noticed the doctor’s cell phone blinking an emergency message arrival as Sands explained the current tactical situation. It could be a medical emergency requiring the doctor’s attention or maybe it was her brother, Hoch thought.

  He keyed the phone and heard Denuza’s voice. He immediately yelled into his cell for Sands to be quiet for a second.

  He listened to Rafael’s short voicemail to his sister and said to Adam, “I think we know where the chip is at. It’ll take us a few minutes to get it.”

  Adam responded, “You have twenty minutes. I need to inform the President. I believe the immediate destruction of Storm Killer is the only way to ensure safety on the ground at this point. I have to go and make that report now. I’m going back to my office to set up the groundside call and I’ll wait twenty minutes. That’s all the time I can give you. Then I’ll ask the President to order our immediate destruction. Let me know as soon as you get the chip back.” Sand hung up.

  Hoch keyed Kim’s cell. When Kim answered, Hoch quickly sketched what had just transpired and suggested Kim and Lt. James make haste to closet 21.

  They had just arrived at the core elevator and were about to take it to Core City when Kim’s cell rang.

  Kim acknowledged the call and hung up her cell phone. To Lt. James she said, “What if this is trap? I don’t think we should just charge in there. But we have only a few precious minutes left.”

  He replied, “Kim, we can’t afford caution now. There is way too much at stake. I’ll take the lead and draw any fire from inside the closet. You back me up and take out any one shooting at us.”

  Kim couldn’t think of a better plan and so she nodded her head in acceptance. They began running toward closet 21.

  39

  Death Awaits

  Rafael cautiously approached the dark entrance to closet 21. He stopped for a moment and looked intently around the interior of the station. He had started this mission full of hope that his actions would help bring the state of the Earth’s environment to the attention of those who most abused it.

  Instead, he had caused the death of many innocent people on the ground and probably all of the staff on Storm Killer. Some of these people were his friends and he felt a bitter sadness that his ‘boss’ had brought this ruin upon his head.

  He sighed, took one more look around and walked through closet 21’s entrance. The emergency lamps did not flash on. This did not surprise him. His boss had disabled the lights. He had done the same thing when he wanted the upper hand on Kim Danby.

  As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw the shadow of a man leaning against the galley counter on the other side of the shelter. The figure raised a hand and powerful flashlight beam played on Rafael’s face instantly blinding him.

  Rafael raised a hand to shield his eyes and stuttered, “B… B… Boss, is that you?”

  “Yeah, Rafael, it’s me. You’ve done well. The station is now uncontrolled and will soon cause tremendous damage on the ground. This will end the United States’ attempts at controlling the weather.”

  “You promised me that no one would be hurt. Why did you lie to me?” Rafael asked in a trembling voice.

  “I didn’t lie. I asked you to disable the station-keeping capability of Storm Killer. The method you selected to accomplish that request is the cause of the deaths on the ground,” the shadowy figure answered.

  “But you told me to do it! I was just following your orders!” whined Rafael.

  “No. I asked you to disable the station, not kill people. That cross is yours to bear. You did it for both the money we paid you and the religious fervor you have for safeguarding the environment.”

  Rafael had to admit that shadowy figure was right. He sighed and admitted, “Yes, I did it for money for my parents. But more importantly, I did it for the environment. I’m at least true to my principles.”

  The figure held the flashlight’s intense beam steady on Rafael’s face and laughed. “You fool! The environment was just the hook we used to bring you into this. The real reason we’re doing this is to make the United States look bad in the eyes of the rest of world. Our Central American friends will make considerable progress in diminishing the States’ role in the affa
irs of other countries by showing it had no qualms about trying to use this unproven and dangerous technology.”

  The shadowy figure went on, “Our Central American friends are paying us very well for our services. So Rafael, do y’all see? It’s all about the money for my associates and me. The environmental thing is a dog that don’t hunt as far as I’m concerned!”

  The figure suddenly leaned away from the counter and stood straight. “It’s time we parted company, Rafael. Y’all aren’t of any value to us any more.”

  Rafael heard the report from the gun, saw the muzzle flash and felt a blow strike his chest as if hit by a sledgehammer.

  He crumbled to the floor. He couldn’t breathe and his head was spinning. He was totally numb; he felt nothing and couldn’t move his extremities, nor turn his head. He knew he was dying.

  The figure approached him and knelt down to inspect his wound. “I must have hit an artery, you’re bleeding heavily. I imagine you’ll bleed out in a couple of minutes.”

  The figure moved his head closer to Rafael’s and the flashlight tipped slightly illuminating the figure’s face.

  Rafael recognized the murderer’s face and weakly gasped, “You! I can’t believe you’re behind this!” His right hand was lying in the blood pooling from the wound. Rafael willed his hand to move. He lifted his blood-covered index finger to the side of his tunic and moved his finger slowly up and down his side. The motion was so slow that his assailant failed to notice the movement in the dark room. He then blinked his eyes once as his lifeblood gushed away into an increasingly large pool on the floor. His body became limp, his chest rattled with his last breaths, and his eyes glazed over with a milky film.

  The figure smiled and used his fingers to close Rafael’s now dead glazed eyes. He rose and stuck the weapon under his belt in the small of his back. He pulled his work tunic down over the gun. Moving the flashlight around the room, he inspected for anything that would point to his identity. Satisfied that nothing incriminating existed in the room, he strode from the closet and walked briskly toward the closest Core City elevator.