Omega Night (Wearing the Cape) (2 page)

We were quite a picture, the military capes in their blue or green uniform jumpsuits and military berets (Watchman looked like them but without the rank flash and unit patches), and all of us civilian capes in our primary colored jumpsuits or tights, masks, and even actual capes. But the navy captain facing us was made of stern stuff; he addressed us by our superhero codenames or “sir” or “ma’am,” without the hint of a smile, and the subject wasn’t funny at all.

Projected civilian fatalities: 50 to 150 million
. Up to half the population of the United States. We’d had experience with small-scale EMP stuff. Lei
Zi
could do it, and it was part of the standard
electrokinetic
breakthrough’s power-set—but
still
…

The captain looked around the room before continuing. “The threat posed by an electromagnetic pulse has been known since the beginning of the nuclear age. During nuclear tests the military shielded electronic instruments and equipment against ‘
radioflash
’ as early as the 50s, and high-altitude tests damaged power and communications infrastructure nearly 15,000 kilometers away.

“The danger comes from the interaction of a high yield, high altitude detonation with the Earth’s magnetic field; detonate a one megaton warhead 400 kilometers up, somewhere over Omaha. Gamma rays hit the upper atmosphere, ejecting electrons which are then deflected sideways by the Earth's north-to-south magnetic field. The free electrons radiate EMP over a wide area, with most of the United States under its penumbra.”

Rook half raised a hand. With Atlas gone, he was probably the strongest Atlas-type in the room.

“Just to be clear, we’re talking about another Blackout, right?”

“Correct, sir, but of a more permanent nature. The power blackout that was part of the Event was a worldwide power
interruption
, which cut power to electrical systems and instruments; an EMP creates a power
spike
, which damages them. Not all systems are equally or permanently affected, but we are talking about a massive assault to solid-state relays in electric substations, computer controls in power generation facilities, substations, and control centers, to power system communications, and to distribution class insulators. This would be followed by complete voltage collapse of power grids nationwide due to transformer saturation and damage to high voltage transformers from internal heating.

“But we’re talking about more than just damage to the power grids. The problem is this.” The captain placed an innocent-looking metal box on the podium. A couple of cables stuck out of it.

“This is a SCADA module. SCADA is an acronym for Supervisory Control and Data Acquisition, and they are industrial computer systems that monitor and control processes, often over wide geographic areas. In the case of the transmission and distribution elements of power grids, SCADAs monitor substations, transformers and other electrical assets. They also monitor telecommunications systems, manufacturing systems, water, gas, and other pumping systems. Modern cars use SCADA systems to make engines hyper-efficient. All solid-state systems, from cell phones to computers, are vulnerable—but SCADA systems are the Achilles’ Heel of our power, communications, and distribution infrastructures. Even temporary loss of SCADA control can permanently, catastrophically, damage dynamic systems.”

Rook was quick. “So you’re saying that we’re getting more vulnerable to this kind of attack every year.”

“Correct. The government is taking regulatory steps to guard against this eventuality, but for now we remain increasingly vulnerable to attack by any enemy capable of launching nuclear weapons.”

I tried again, with less volume this time. “But, 150
million
fatalities?”

“Yes, ma’am, that is the outside number. The truth is, computer modeling is inexact for problems with this many intractable variables; the true number could be as low as 50 million. What is certain is that in a worst-case EMP attack, it will take weeks to months to restore power to a significant area. With our transportation system compromised, our just-in-time food distribution system will break down immediately. Grocery stores will empty in days. Power loss means loss of refrigeration, spoiling a large percentage of the available food supply as well as many vital drugs. No power means no heating or hot water, in many places no water at all. Major cities will become completely uninhabitable as sanitation systems break down. Hunger will become starvation, infection and sickness will kill those weakened by malnutrition, and civil breakdown, widespread looting, fighting over vanishing food supplies, will kill many more.”

“But the capes—”

“Ma’am, the lower number factors in the effective deployment of all superhuman assets, civilian and military. California’s Big One was a good model of what to expect in this kind of situation; the difference is that the breakdown was localized and the rest of the country could pour in aid and resources as fast as we could get it there. In a successful central EMP attack, with the exception of Alaska, Hawaii, and parts of Texas and Florida outside the zone, we’ll all be in the crapper together. Full and immediate international aid might save a few more million here and there, that is all.

“Which brings us to the
Gungnir
Program. Everyone in this room has been approved for this program. In the case of all Crisis Aid and Intervention superheroes, approval includes executive approval by your state governors for full participation. If you’ll all turn to page twenty-six in your binders, we’ll review the installations…”

I turned the pages, and groaned. Spacesuit, armored harness and missile racks.
Yippy.
Marketing is going to make a new action-figure out of this the day it declassifies
.

Not that I minded too much—it was just that bitching with my inside-voice over the military accessories helped me ignore my imagination’s attempt to paint a picture of what might happen. I had a
good
imagination, but we were just talking about a precaution, right? Like a fire extinguisher in your kitchen or a gun in your nightstand you never use.

Right?

“
You just went transonic!
” Shelly called as the air went white around me, condensed water vapor marking the shockwave of broken air. I’d just broken my personal best speed, flying straight up in Watchman’s wake.
“Now leaving the troposphere!
”

“What’s the missile status?” I felt like I was going to pass out, but it was getting easier as the air thinned. Which was good—we were higher than jets flew and still had a long way to go.

“
The launched missile is a Trident II; its unmodified top speed is 6,000 meters per second—13,000 miles an hour. But it’s already into its third stage and will burn through it in less than a minute. After that it will be ballistic and slowing ‘cause of Earth’s gravity, but we’ll be accelerating all the way
.”

“If I can keep this up,” I gasped. “Will we get close enough for
Gungnir
?”

“
Maybe. They’re initiating Blackout Protocol, just in case
.”

Looking down, I could see Chicago’s lights winking out below me in huge patches as power grids shut down to protect their transformers from EMP insult. The Emergency Broadcast System would be sending the alert by radio, television stations, even phone texts: get off the road, get out of elevators, get down, get
safe
. All airplane takeoffs were being canceled, along with any landings that would take more than three minutes; any airplanes caught in the air would be turning away from urban areas. If the worst happened and they went down, they’d go down in open fields, killing no one but their passengers and crews.

It won’t happen
.

Our vapor halo thinned with the atmosphere as we passed through weather balloon territory and the horizon began to curve. Higher than I’d ever been.

“
Watchman, Astra
,” Blackstone broke in. “
We have just received word from 2
^nd
Fleet.
 
The missile capture and launch was made by The Overlord. A Navy
superSEAL
team located his current base on Culebra—part of the Puerto Rico island chain. They got him, but it looks like the robot module was part of his contingency plan
.”

“
Got him?
” Watchman asked.

“
He’s dead
.
The fight ended with a crater an hour ago
.”

Great. Scratch one Verne-type
supervillain
terrorist, but now he couldn’t abort the detonation. At least now we knew what the Navy had been doing down there, like
that
helped. The knot in my gut, there since the second Rush put his hand on my shoulder, wound tighter. I’d only just turned nineteen—what was I doing in a race to save the world?

“Shelly?” I whispered, voice sounding unnatural in the close helmet.

“
Yeah?
”

“Mom and Dad?”

“
Your Dad can take care of himself, but
Rush promises to get them to the Dome if we don’t make this. Do you want to talk to them?
”

Yes. “No. They’ll worry anyway, but if I call to tell them…”

“
Yeah. This sucks
.”

“You’ll take care of them? Everyone?”

“
Pinky-swear. Acceleration good, Mesosphere coming up
.”

Nearly 100 miles up, it
was
getting even easier. Lots easier. “Watchman?”

“
Astra? What’s your status
?” He sounded like he was asking how an oh-so-routine exercise was going.

“I’m good and you don’t need to break the air for me anymore.” It was mostly true. “How much more speed have you got?”

“
A bit. Okay, separating
.” I clenched my fists and braced as his feet drew away above me. Ten feet. Twenty. Thirty, and suddenly I was making my own bow wave in the thin air.

“
Speed dropping
,” Shelly observed.

“I’ve
got
it.” Things went fuzzy as I metaphorically leaned in and
pushed
.

“
Speed steady. Climbing
.”

I focused on Watchman, willing his shrinking dot to stay in sight. “Time to target range?” I gasped.

“
Two minutes to effective
Gungnir
range, three to optimal range
.
Remember that summer we
—
Crap on a cracker!
The target has separated! The target has separated!
”

The red triangle at the top of the cone split into five red pips, all flashing. Confusion filled the communications links before Shelly shut it all out.

“Multiple warheads? Why didn’t anyone
say
?”

“
It’s not! The missile has a single, one megaton warhead. The robots have been changing it, but they couldn’t have split the bomb!
”

“Decoys?”

“
Have to be
,” she agreed, a little calmer. “
Five of us, five of them—it’s adapting
.”

“Yippy. So now it’s a shell game.” This was
not
happening.