Xn

by Clint Townsend

  “With Him, all things are possible,” he factually stated, adding, “He will soon reveal His plans for you and your unborn son. Be strong and of good courage; be not afraid, neither be you dismayed, for the Lord thy God is with you wherever you go.”

  Just as the apparition completed his statement, a lightning bolt of dazzling purple penetrated the room noiselessly.

  The transparent man vanished.

  Armada and Chloe were still clutching hands when the lamps came on. They glanced at their wall of tablet monitors and watched as the screens immediately resumed broadcasting the video feeds.

  “Oh, my gosh!” Armada blurted, looking up. “Thank you! Thank you! I … I haven’t known what to do. I’ve been so stressed….”

  “He has,” Chloe interrupted, squeezing his fingers. “He’s not sleeping, he’s been moody and irritable … well, you know how he is, you’ve seen him. He’s been afraid. I’m afraid.”

  “I wanna make sure you’re telling me what I think you’re telling me. If I’m understanding correctly … you’re saying … don’t worry about when and how to stop Cain, because … you’ll tell me what to do and when to do it. Is that it?”

  They rose from their knees and waited for some display of acknowledgement.

  “Is he right?” Chloe loudly inquired, but nothing happened.

  Armada lightly nudged her and nodded his head in the direction of the bathroom.

  “Ooh,” she peeped, stepped to the doorway, and flipped the switch.

  “Are you listening?” Armada again asked. “Did I understand you correctly? You don’t want us to….”

  Before he could complete his question, the lamps in their room pulsed with a surge of light. The expectant parents quickly joined hands.

  “So, we don’t need to ask you…,” Chloe began, “you’ll just … tell us?”

  The lights again flickered.

  “And you’ll determine when?” Armada further probed.

  For the third and final time, the lamps, entryway, and bathroom lights glowed with the entity’s response.

  Armada and Chloe turned to face each other and collapsed in a strong embrace. They reveled in the security of their intimate hug and slowly rocked back and forth.

  “Thank you for helping us,” and “Thank you for listening,” they whispered.

  He slid his hands down her arms until their fingers met. With their eyes firmly shut, the two stood between the beds and spoke openly.

  “Just tell us what you want us to do,” Armada said.

  “We’ll follow you, wherever you lead us,” Chloe added.

  “We’re here to listen to you.”

  “We believe in you. Thank you for helping us and the child growing inside of me.”

  After a brief and silent pause, they opened their eyes.

  Armada leaned forward and kissed his wife on her forehead.

  “I don’t want to look at any more files or folders,” he playfully demanded, shaking his head. “I don’t need to examine any videos, and I refuse to inspect any program coding.”

  “Well, baby,” she started to say, looking at the clock, “seeing as how it’s nearly midnight, how about we call it quits for the evening and just go to bed.”

  Before she could kiss him, a sudden burst of pain emanated from deep inside her.

  “Oh!” she winced and stooped over, resting her head on his chest.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” she groaned, erecting herself, “Abdiel’s really been rooting around lately.”

  Armada led Chloe to the other side of the bed and gently eased her down. She puckered her lips and inhaled deeply when another flash of pain resonated throughout her womb.

  He turned off the floor lamp in the corner, flipped the switch to power down the panel of tablets, then crossed the room and turned off both the bathroom and entryway lights.

  “We won’t need this tonight,” he announced as he neared their bed.

  “Need what?” she asked and rolled to her right.

  Without a word, he stuck his hand down behind the nightstand and gruffly unplugged the alarm clock.

  “Yay!” she cheered, lightly clapping, as he held it up for display.

  He carelessly tossed the digital clock over his shoulder before turning off the table lamp.

  In total darkness he slid under the sheet. Chloe rolled to her left, away from him, while he nestled up close and spooned her backside. She felt his right arm wrap around her waist and give a firm squeeze.

  “Thank you for my wife,” he whispered into her neck. “Thank you for my son. Thank you for saving us.”

  Chloe laced her fingers through his and closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 41

  SABOTEURS

  “It’s obvious you didn’t look hard enough!” Cain scolded, adding, “Have them make another sweep!”

  “Sir?!” Riggs retorted with incredulity, “We spent the last twelve hours looking in every conceivable….”

  “No, you didn’t! Had you and your crew conducted a thorough and complete inspection of each Cloud, then Dr. White and Armada would be standing in front of me right now, and I’d have the hard drives in my hand.”

  Riggs held his tongue while Cain carried on with his tirade. He grasped at a rung of an external ladder on the belly of Cloud One and punched at the hull with his free hand.

  “Now,” Cain continued, shouting into his headset, “I want you to split your team; half of you finish the supply load out from the Island, and the second half will search the Clouds … again!”

  “Dr. Wyczthack, with all due respect, it’s after one in the morning. My crew has been at it for almost sixteen hours straight. They need to rest for a while. By the time we get back to Cloud Nine and strip down, it’ll be well after two. Four hours, that’s all I’m asking for. Give me that and I’ll have them out at seven.”

  “I want … Armada … now!” Cain shrieked.

  “Yes, sir. I promise you that….”

  Blinded by anger and a lust for vengeance, Cain ripped the earpiece from his head and sat in his chair, screaming.

  ***

  Chloe kicked Armada’s shinbone again, waking him from a deep sleep. She rolled away from him and kicked free of the top sheet.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked. “Can’t get comfortable again?”

  “No!” she grunted in a fluster.

  A few moments later, she flopped to her other side and let out a long, heavy sigh directly in his face.

  “Aren’t you hot?” she quipped.

  “Chloe,” he mumbled, “you’re growing another human inside you so no, I’m not hot.”

  “I just can’t seem to get in the right position. I swear, I’m about to burn up!”

  Armada flung his arm to the side and laid his hand on top of hers. He made sure to remain very still while listening to her breathe.

  He quickly sat up in bed.

  “Was that you?” he enthusiastically called out and turned on the lamp.

  “Was that me what, baby?” Chloe groggily replied.

  “Not you, baby. Hold on.”

  He excitedly lurched towards Chloe and offered up a peck on her cheek, exclaiming, “Good morning!”

  She sluggishly propped herself on her elbows and watched her husband through drooping eyelids.

  “Was that you?” he repeated, standing up between the beds. “Did you do that?”

  The lightbulb in the lamp briefly flickered off and on.

  “Yes! Yes!” Armada screamed, leaping on the vacant bed.

  “Are you gonna bounce around like an idiot, or do you plan on letting me….”

  “You! It was you, Chloe! You said it! Whoo! Well, you said the words, but it was really….”

  “Augh!” she growled, slapping the mattress. “What? Just tell me!”

  Armada leapt to their bed, laughing, and jumped beside her, causing her to rock slightly.

  “You said what we’re supposed to do!”

  Chloe stared at the
ceiling, not at all following her husband’s logic and explanation.

  He hopped over her, bounced off the bed, and flipped the switch to turn on the tablets.

  “Okay … there’s ten Clouds. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And each Cloud has approximately one hundred nuclear missiles.”

  As he spoke, he repeatedly clapped his hands.

  “Yes, Armada! Please! Quit building me clocks and just tell me the time!”

  “Position and burn up!” he energetically stated, holding his arms out to his side. “Isn’t that great?”

  He continued to laugh as he sprang to the countertop above their refrigerator and started scooping ground coffee out of a bag.

  “It’s so simple! I don’t know why neither one of us thought about it, it’s….”

  “Armada!” she howled, trying desperately to sit up straight against the headboard. “Get over here and elaborate! Please! You’re not making sense.”

  “Okay, Mrs. Armada! Right away!” he jovially bellowed

  He overexaggerated his animated leaps to their bed and delicately eased his rear end on the mattress.

  “You are so weird!” she jokingly insulted. “Now. Please explain yourself.”

  “All right. When NASA developed the shuttle program, there was a contractor called Morton Thiokol, or just plain Thiokol, that produced the shuttle’s SRBs.”

  “Solid rocket boosters.”

  “Correct. Thiokol worked with Pratt and Whitney and Boeing Lockheed for years, then Thiokol was absorbed by ATK. They then became Orbital ATK. You know, they created the Cygnus cargo craft for the ISS.”

  “Cygnus. Got it. And?”

  “The SRBs were huge, like forty feet tall, and generated nearly three million pounds of thrust force each. For fuel, the two rockets used a combination of ammonium perchlorate, atomized aluminum powder, iron oxide, PBAN, or polybutadiene acrylonitrile, and an epoxy curing agent. It’s officially known as ammonium perchlorate composite propellant, or APCP.”

  “Put me out of my misery and tell me there’s a point to all of this.”

  “I’m getting there, baby. The SRBs burned for two minutes and were the primary means of raising the shuttle stack to an elevation of twenty-eight miles above the Earth’s surface.”

  Chloe gazed blankly at him and shrugged her shoulders.

  “What does a cancelled shuttle program have to do with us and nuclear missiles?”

  “Baby,” he said, stroking the back of her hand, “those Clouds have ten miniature SRBs. Each. That equates to a ballpark capacity of ten million pounds of thrust force, per Cloud … in a vacuum.”

  The wheels started turning in Chloe’s brain.

  “Oh! Armada!” she squealed and threw herself into his arms.

  “Hey, you did it. Not me,” he commented, rubbing his hands across her back.

  Like water flowing through a collapsing dam, a flood wall of emotion consumed Chloe. She clung tightly to his neck and dug her fingers into his shoulders.

  “How?” she croaked.

  “It’ll sound complicated, but I’ll try to break it down into simple terms,” he said and gently broke their embrace.

  “I’m just now realizing this concept, so … gimme a minute,” he admitted, rising to his feet.

  Armada walked to the countertop, removed the pot of freshly brewed coffee, and held it up for his bride to see. Chloe gave him a nod of approval while reaching for a tissue.

  “Within every Cloud SRB, there are three rate gyro assemblies. Better known as RGAs,” he informed her as he poured the coffee, “each RGA contains two gyroscopes: one for pitch and one for yaw. These provide data about the axes to the orbiter’s guidance, navigation, and positional control systems. We’ll have to disable those. All of ‘em.”

  Armada dropped a few tiny chunks of dark chocolate in both mugs, gave them a slight stir, and passed one off to Chloe.

  “Additionally,” he said, dragging the swiveling desk chair beside the bed, “each SRB has two hydraulic gimbal servoactuators. They’re responsible for directing the nozzle fans up and down and side-to-side, and provide thrust vectoring to propel and direct the Clouds. We gotta disengage those as well.”

  He sipped his coffee, lost in thought, as he vocally identified more and more components and systems that required sabotage.

  “Flight control system, guidance and positioning system, altitude and trajectory control, all telecommunications and server synchronization with Engenechem….”

  “You can do all of that? From here?” she interrupted.

  “We. Yes, we can do all this, and more. We don’t have a choice.”

  “Sounds like a lot.”

  “Well, yeah, it is. But it’s what we’re supposed to do. Basically, we’re trying to steal a car with the driver still inside … but don’t want him to know … until it’s too late to do anything about it.”

  Chloe took a large swallow of coffee and focused on her swollen belly. She rubbed slow, wide circles with her fingertips.

  “All right. What do you need from me?”

  ***

  Riggs floated through the open airlock that separated Dormitory C from the transit corridor on Cloud Two. He entered the tunnel, turned to his left, and was preparing to inspect Dormitory D when, from the corner of his eye, he thought he noticed something moving.

  “Who’s there? Identify yourself,” he asked, but received no response on the speaker in his helmet.

  “I’m here, sir,” a female crew member finally answered, gliding out from Dormitory E behind him.

  Riggs pulled himself to the tunnel wall and turned around to face her.

  “Who else is in tunnel three?” he asked. “I didn’t think anybody was….”

  “Sir?” she quizzically asked. “Should that be happening?”

  She pointed past him and began pulling herself forward.

  Riggs twisted himself in the opposite direction to see what she was referring to. He was right: something indeed was moving.

  “No, that’s not supposed to happen,” he anxiously stated.

  What Riggs saw moving wasn’t a person; it was sunlight pouring through an oval window on the corridor outer shell.

  Cloud Two was rotating.

  “Get back to the EVA Hangar, now!” Riggs ordered, spinning around.

  The duo hurriedly grasped at the center rung line that ran the entire length of the transit tunnel.

  “This is Woodburn!” Riggs announced as they floated through the tube. “Are there any personnel currently at the Cloud Two operations center?”

  “Negative,” “No, sir,” and “Not that we’re aware of” filled his ears.

  “I want everybody outta Cloud Two, immediately! We’re experiencing orbital decay!”

  “Riggs!” a voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Riggs! This is Cain! Where are you? Cloud Two is pitching….”

  “Yes, sir! I’m aware of it! We’re evacuating Cloud Two right now!”

  “Evacuating?” Cain roared. “Armada’s probably on Cloud Two hiding somewhere, and he’s got Alan and the hard drives with him. Get over to the operations center and reestablish control! That’s an order! Armada’s trying to distract us by disabling our SRBs.”

  “Cain, I can practically guarantee you neither Dr. White nor Arma….”

  Riggs’s voice and comm-link signal suddenly disappeared from Dr. Wyczthack’s video monitor and headset.

  ***

  “I’d love to see his face right now,” Chloe happily announced, pecking at her tablet computer. “I bet he’s so angry he can’t get up to the Clouds. Ooh! He’s probably cursing us both.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Armada laughingly agreed. “And it’s about to get even more interesting.”

  With his pinky held high, he daintily tapped the tablet screen.

  “There went Cloud Two’s air filtration and purification systems.”

  “So, what’s next?” she casually inquired, laying her legs across his lap.

&nb
sp; “I want you, dear woman, to cut all current video feeds to the tablets and find me every camera aimed in the direction of the supply island and the Clouds. I wanna see as much as possible. If it’s on an Arena, an Ark, Eden, a Halo, I don’t care. It’s imperative that we have visual access to the Clouds.”

  Chloe quickly drew her legs back under her.

  “What’s on your immediate agenda?” she asked.

  “Me? Oh, nothing really. I’m just about to override the data encryption capabilities on all Engenechem communication satellites,” Armada responded in a blasé tone. “Other than that, not much.”

  ***

  “Riggs!” Cain angrily shouted. “Riggs! Are you listening?”

  The enraged scientist toggled between multiple screens and program windows in a desperate attempt to reestablish a stable line of communication.

  “Riggs! Anybody! This is Dr. Cain Wyczthack!” he repeatedly barked into his headset. “Can anyone hear me?”

  A shadow passed over the window on the outer shell of his private chambers, temporarily distracting him. He unstrapped himself, pushed against the desk, and launched up and back. Once he came in contact with the wall, Cain pressed his face to the thick glass to get a better look at the Clouds.

  Cloud Two had pitched to its side by ninety degrees, thereby momentarily blocking the sun.

  “No, no, no!” Cain blasted, slamming his hand on the wall. “Armada!”

  A series of tiny dings, bells, and alarms began sounding off.

  Dr. Wyczthack spun around to find his video monitors in a state of disarray. Message windows and alerts started flashing and blinking on every screen, reading ‘Loss of signal,’ ‘Connection terminated,’ ‘Terminal client unavailable,’ and ‘Host server not found.’

  “Augh!” he wailed as he tried in vain to close out the warning notifications. “Damn you, Armada!”

  CHAPTER 42

  THREE, TWO, ONE … FIRE

  “Can you retract the door manually?” Riggs asked, hovering next to the EVA external personnel access portal. “If we force it open wide enough, I can pass you the power cord.”

  “Sir,” the woman anxiously stated, “that’s a hydraulic lock. It’s a fail-safe. When there’s a loss of power, the hydraulic locking mechanism automatically engages because the electromagnetic system is down.”