Thomas Greanias
The War Cloud
For such a time as now…
1
Every minute of every day since February 3, 1961, a Strategic Command “Looking Glass” plane carrying an Air Force general has been circling the Midwest, ready to seize control of America’s nuclear arsenal should a surprise attack destroy command posts on the ground. The program officially ended with the Cold War, but actually carries on under various guises and aircraft. Only once, in the skies of September 11, 2001, has a Looking Glass plane ever been spotted by the general public. Even then the Pentagon denied its existence.
This morning it was General Brad Marshall’s turn to play God.
Marshall gazed at the converted military Boeing 747–200 “Doomsday” jumbo jet waiting for him in the pre- dawn darkness as his black Chevy Suburban, wipers working furiously, braked to a halt and he stepped out.
The ice on the tarmac crunched under his brisk, powerful strides. The snow was coming down harder now. He turned up the collar of his overcoat and bore through the curtain of white to Looking Glass, its gigantic GE 80- series engines winding up to takeoff power. Originally, the plane was an EC-135C, then an E-6 Mercury. The new model, a modified E4-B conscripted from Operation Nightwatch, had triple the floor space and was practically a dead ringer for the president’s Air Force One. Only the small white dome on top betrayed its enhanced military capabilities.
At the base of the tall stairs leading up to the six-story-high plane stood an intelligence officer Marshall had never seen before, although he recognized him from a file somewhere.
The officer saluted as he approached. “General Marshall, sir.”
Marshall frowned. “What happened to Colonel Reynolds?”
“Flu, sir,” the intelligence officer explained eagerly. “I’m Colonel Quinn. I’ll be your second.”
Marshall looked Quinn over. He had handpicked the Looking Glass crew himself. This kid was strictly second- string, and although the switch wasn’t entirely unexpected, that General Carver at Strategic Command hadn’t bothered to give him an official heads-up about such a critical assignment bothered Marshall. It only confirmed just how routine and insignificant these flights had become to the Department of Defense.
“Try to keep up with me, Quinn,” Marshall said as he started up the steps.
Marshall worked his way through the main deck’s various compartments — a command work area, conference room, briefing room, an operations team work area, and a secondary communications compartment — and acknowledged the salutes and greetings of the admiring crew with a confident smile.
Inside the communications center, Major Tommie Banks lit up when Marshall entered, Quinn right behind.
“General Marshall, sir,” the curvy redhead said.
“Major Tom,” Marshall acknowledged. “Threat alert status?”
She handed him a report. “Orange, sir.”
Marshall looked over the report, trying not to notice how nicely Major Tom filled her jumpsuit. “Flight forecast?”
She looked him in the eye. “Clear skies, sir.”
Marshall nodded, aware of Quinn’s frown. Marshall followed Quinn’s eyes to the window. It was dark and snowy.
“The President,” Marshall continued. “Give me his twenty.”
Major Tom said, “Back in Washington with everybody else for tonight’s State of the Union.
“Not everybody,” Marshall said, handing back the report.
She nodded and said softly, “You deserve better, sir.”
“Don’t we all?” Marshall said and marched off.
Two armed Looking Glass officers were already waiting in the battle staff compartment when Marshall entered and sat down in his general’s swivel chair.
“Harney, Wilson.” Marshall nodded to the men. “Welcome to Air Armageddon. Please present your boarding passes.”
The young officers dutifully surrendered the nuclear authenticator codes they were carrying.
Marshall removed the key he wore around his neck and inserted it into one of two locks in the red steel box next to his seat. “Colonel Quinn?”
“Sir.” Quinn, who was hurrying in behind Marshall, produced his own key and inserted it into the second lock.
Marshall opened the double-padlocked safe.
“As you gentlemen know, a Looking Glass plane like ours is always in the air.” Marshall paused to look each officer in the eye. “In the event of surprise nuclear attack, we can command American forces from the air and launch our ICBMs by remote control. Colonel Quinn, as my second officer, you are watching me place the nuclear authenticator codes in here for safekeeping.”
Marshall placed the code cards that Harney and Wilson had given him inside the safe, next to the two launch keys that together could unleash the Apocalypse. He locked the double padlocks with the safe keys. He hung the long chain of his key to the safe around his neck again. He then pocketed Quinn’s second key.
“God forbid we’ll ever need these.”
Marshall turned his attention to a pre-flight checklist. Wilson and Harney stood like statues on either side of him, emotionless. But he could feel Quinn’s stare.
Quinn cleared his throat. “Sir.”
“Yes,” Marshall said without looking up. But he could hear the uncertainty in Quinn’s voice.
“The other key, sir.”
Marshall played it cool. “What about it, Quinn?”
“Regulations state that both keys are not to be in the possession of a single officer,” Quinn said, sounding forced.
Marshall knew that this kind of situation could throw even the most seasoned officer, and Quinn was hardly that. “I know the regulations,” Marshall replied evenly. “I think we have too many regulations these days, don’t you?”
At that moment Major Tom appeared. “General Marshall,” she said, “the tower has cleared us for take- off.”
Marshall handed her his checklist and locked eyes with Quinn. “Who’s our pilot today, Quinn?”
Quinn did his best not to look at his clipboard. It took a few seconds, but he got it right. “That would be Captain Delany, sir. And Rogers is co-pilot.”
Marshall nodded. “Trained them myself. Just like the rest of the crew. Everybody but you, Quinn. We don’t just look out for each other. We’ve made a pact. You know the kind of loyalty I’m talking out, Quinn?”
Quinn said nothing. His eyes were wide, his lips pressed tightly.
“I didn’t think so.” Marshall turned to his crew and smiled. “To your stations, officers.”
Wilson and Harney did as they were told. As did Major Tom.
Marshall heard Quinn unlock his sidearm holster, and when he looked up again he saw the barrel of
