The ELI Event B007R5LTNS

latitude and longitude! Thirty-four, three by one-eighteen, fifteen.”
    Bernardo sat back, trying to take it in but not quite convinced. “So-o-o,” he said slowly and seriously, “let me get this straight. Pettis has locked in a Molecular Disruptor Array sweep for Friday. We can’t delay, cancel, or otherwise modify this sweep because the project data—the data we need to control the weapon on the satellite—has been stolen and wiped. The sweep will initiate at eighty percent of the MDA’s capacity, it will use an object vector that oversaturates the target area by four thousand percent, and it will make impact not at the Microville training city target in Nevada but at thirty-four, three by one-eighteen, fifteen. Is that pretty much the situation?”
    Williams nodded silently.
    “So,” Bernardo concluded, “short version: Pettis is going to vaporize Los Angeles.” It wasn’t a question.
    “YES! Los Angeles, Bill! This sweep is going to fry Los Angeles! Los fucking Angeles! Friday! And we can’t stop it! Jesus!” Williams shouted. He was shaking now, furious and panicked.
    Bernardo could see that they were attracting the attention of the other technicians. He bounded out of the chair and eased Williams into it. “Here, sit already,” he said soothingly. “Easy, buddy, take it easy.” He scanned the calculations thoroughly again, top to bottom, running the formulas in his mind, hoping Williams was wrong but knowing he wasn’t.
    Techs all over the room were looking at them now, muttering and chuckling and shaking their heads. Three stations away, one of the junior techs, Jan Ellis, turned and walked slowly toward the ladies’ room, flipping open her cell phone.
    Williams sat gently rocking back and forth, trying to regain his composure, not very successfully. His voice raspy and quavering, “Somebody’s got to tell Holt,” he said at last.
    “Not it!” Bernardo said instantly, and gave Williams a weak, sheepish smile.
    Williams just looked at him blankly.
    “Yeah, just kidding, I’ll do it,” Bernardo offered. “You’re in no condition to hand Holt this flaming bag of crap, buddy. Besides, I was looking for a job when I found this one. I don’t give a shit if Holt fires me a dozen times.”

    * * *

    Holt fired Bernardo only twice, as it turned out, but rehired him after he calmed down a bit. Bernardo had some initial trouble convincing Holt of the reality of the situation, but once it became clear that this was not some sick joke on Bernardo’s part, Holt had gone off like a rocket, yelling, spitting, swearing, bouncing around his office like a bullet in a steel box. Even so, Bernardo observed to himself, not a particularly severe overreaction. After all, they were about to destroy Los Angeles.
    They were waiting for Holt’s aide to return with news of Pettis. Holt had finally returned to his desk, and sat, hands folded in front of him, trying to build himself an executive summary.
    “Okay, Mr. Bernardo, bottom-line this for me again.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “We know that Pettis’s sweep is set for Friday morning.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “We know that his taking the wheel to set up this sweep himself was, shall we say, ill-advised, and that he input some bad data.”
    “Sir.”
    “This resulted in calculations that sets the power of the MDA satellite weapon way over its tested limits, defines an impact at thousands of times its normal strength, and specifies a target site that’s off by over three hundred miles.”
    “All correct, General.”
    “Los Angeles, for Christ’s sake,” Holt said wearily.
    Bernardo nodded, scratched his beard.
    “Then I’d say let’s focus on stopping the sweep, but you say that’s impossible.”
    “Well, sir,” Bernardo began, “all but. We can’t cancel the MDA’s firing orders, reset the power or spectrum settings, or even change the erroneous data and let the weapon recalibrate everything for itself. We’re pretty much dead in the water.”
    “I see. And that’s because…?”
    “That’s because without the Molly Day project data, we don’t have the satellite’s call-and-response control codes, nor even enough information to rebuild them or create new ones. And even if we did, we couldn’t transmit them to the satellite. It wouldn’t accept them.”
    “Why not?”
    “The satellite’s defense mechanisms absolutely prohibit accepting any new protocols without verification through the previous set.” He thought for a moment.