Chapter 12: 'Sunrise'


by Neil Cantrell



Washington, D.C.

"Relax, for Pete's sake! The Russians aren't crazy, Frank," Secretary of Defense Tom McMann said condescendingly to the Naval J2 Attache.

"Psychology is not my specialty, Mr. Secretary," Captain Frank Creighton, USN, responded unemotionally.

"Oh, So you think a Soviet nuclear attack is imminent?" SECDEF leaned back in his chair, visibly defiant, yet uncomfortable.

Creighton looked over to the Deputy Director for Intelligence, Dick Giles, who replaced president Milton's crony, Roger Craig, after his physical and emotional collapse. The DDI swiveled in his chair as he took the cue.

"Mr. President, it is the recommendation of Intelligence, that we move to DEFCON 5."

Colorado Springs, Colorado

It seemed strange that he could still smell it. Even with the early morning Colorado mountain air roaring through the cabin of the Humvee, Lt. Gen. George E. Macdougal, CMM, MVO, CD Canadian Forces, Deputy Commander In Chief (DCINC) North American Aerospace Defense Command could distinctly smell the sickly sweet artificial strawberry perfume.

"What in blazes is that smell?" NORAD's second-in-command shouted above the road noise.

The driver, wearing the uniform of an Air Force corporal, answered in an almost distracted manner. "Air freshener sir, from the car wash in town."

"In town? You mean you don't wash them on base?" Something wasn't right with the driver, DCINC noted. Couldn't be drugs. All personnel at Cheyenne Mountain Air Station underwent the strictest testing, on a weekly basis. Probably just a bad hangover.

"Oh, yes sir, we do, sir. But if we're in town, and have the chance, we'll run ‘er through the real McCoy."

The corporal braked slightly as they approached the crest of a small saddle. To the right they passed a work crew, modifying a billboard sign proclaiming "C.M.O.C., the Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center. Home of NORAD, USSPACECOM, and AFSPC."

The Humvee, serial number AFMPV-709-532-21 emblazoned in three-inch block letters, accelerated down the half-mile grade to the east portal of the nuclear war fortress.

The real "AFMPV-709-532-21" was back in Colorado Springs. Covered by a blue tarp, it sat inside "Gary's Custom Car Wash" which bore a sign on the front door reading "Sorry, We're Closed."

The imposter vehicle, carried the original's coded digital datalink, giving it a clean bill of health as it passed inside the 7,100 foot high mass of granite. It also carried something else.

Incorporated into the chassis were two ZiUE-89, 20KT nuclear weapons. The miniature warheads, designed for the BPH-60 sub-launched cruise missle, would by themselves be ineffective, even if detonated at the center of the mountain. The three-mile arc of the Portal tunnel was designed to vent the blast wave of a nuclear explosion through the north and east entrances. The IOC itself was buried thousands of feet further into the granite. Eleven separate buildings were each connected to the main tunnel by it's own. The Gamma ray pulse from such a weapon would penetrate only a few hundred feet or so into the rock. Something more was needed.

The twin Z-89's were nested into the base of a beryllium cone, housing a device which transformed a small amount of hydrogen gas into a new and strange state of matter. Known as a "Bose-Einstein Condensate," it was, essentially, polarized neutrons. The beryllium cone focused the energy of the two bombs onto the condensate, releasing a fan-shaped beam of the most intense radiation in the universe: cosmic rays.

Standing on the scaffold of the billboard, one of the workmen took a last draw from a cigarette and flicked it away. Before it hit the ground, a searing blue and magenta sun was born at the mouth of the east portal. It fluoresced through the billboard, making it transparent just before it vaporized.

Read Chapter 13