Ragnarok

TWELVE

Endgame Headquarters, White Mountains, NH

3 November, 0200 Hrs

Lewis Aleman was barely keeping up with the outbreaks of the energy domes around the world. He sat reclined in the central computer room, in Deep Blue’s specially designed chair. The thing reminded him of a dentist’s chair, if it had been made by Craftmatic, like an adjustable bed. It could rotate and even tilt so he could take in any view of the forty oversized flat-screen monitors that lined the walls of the room, or the giant 12-foot-wide monitor that filled one entire wall.

The chair itself was a comfortable memory-foam affair with ergonomic armrests and a keyboard that had been split, so that one half was at the front of his left armrest and the other was at the front of the right one. On his hands he wore special computing gloves that allowed him to not only type, but which also acted like a mouse when he pointed and moved his fingers. The gloves had built-in neon blue LED lights, and he couldn’t put them on without thinking of the TRON films. He could toggle any of the room’s screens to his control and could zoom in and out with a slight movement of one hand. Strange, Aleman had thought, until he’d had a chance to get used to it. Now he loved it and couldn’t imagine doing without it. The entire setup allowed Deep Blue to network into several satellites simultaneously, and to provide computer support for the field team. Of course, with Deep Blue in the field, much of that role fell to Aleman.

“That’ll be King’s plane coming into Chicago,” George Pierce said from across the room, running a nervous hand through his black curly hair.

Aleman looked first at Pierce, and then up at a monitor near the corner of the room. This screen showed the view from Deep Blue’s faceplate-the scene in Chicago, lit up as bright as day by the harsh glow of the energy signature. Aleman reached a finger on his right hand forward and toggled the view to the main screen in the densely packed computer room.

In the distance, between skyscrapers, an F-16 could be seen coming toward the viewer. Deep Blue had been on the ground for a few minutes now, and Aleman had been keeping close tabs on the former president’s screen.

He knew Tom Duncan well, and considered him a close friend, but it was still hard not to think of him as “Mr. President” or “Deep Blue.” In either case, Aleman was concerned that his friend might be getting a little old to be out in the field. Then there was the whole secret identity thing. Aleman had helped design Duncan’s field helmet that would conceal his identity as the former president while allowing him to remain as connected to the Internet and communications arrays as any mobile human being could hope to be.

“Yeah, looks like it. George, any luck on the research?”

“Nothing yet. I’ll keep at it.” George Pierce was a former professor of archeology and a lover of myth and folklore. As King’s friend and the man who had been engaged to Julie, King’s deceased sister, Pierce had gotten involved with Chess Team when they had taken down a corrupt genetics firm that was tinkering with human regeneration. Since then, he had earned a place on the team as a constantly useful researcher. At first he had tried to live two lives-that of a professor and that of an asset for the team. Eventually, Deep Blue offered Pierce a full-time position with the Endgame organization.

Pierce had been feverishly working all night to find some mention of the energy domes in history, myth or folklore. He figured it stood to reason that the phenomenon was either something scientifically produced or something that would have affected the planet before. Aleman was looking for the science angle and Pierce was in charge of the historical one.

Both men looked up as Sara Fogg entered the room with Matt Carrack, callsign: White Zero. Fogg had the confident look and high cheekbones of a model, but kept her short black pixie hair messy and a glint of good humor in her eyes. Carrack was the head of security at the base, and after a recent security incident, had been promoted to the position of White Zero-Deep Blue’s main assistant at the New Hampshire headquarters. Fogg was dressed in snug jeans and a tight Mickey Mouse t-shirt. Carrack wore all-black military battle dress uniform, and was armed with a 9 mm Beretta in a low-slung quick-draw harness on his leg.

“Nice outfit, Sara” George started.

“Shut it, you. The t-shirt was King’s idea of a joke.” Fogg smiled at Pierce. “What’s going on? Is he okay?” The two of them had become quite close over the last few months, with both King and their connection to the team as civilians bonding them.

“He’s just getting to Chicago,” he pointed to the shaky image on the main view-screen on the wall. “Where’s Fiona?”

“Just put her to bed. Long day of ruined vacations and transit at Air Force bases.”

Pierce winced, knowing full well how the last two attempts at a vacation with King had turned out for her.

Carrack stepped over to a free computer terminal and sat down to flick through screens of all the currently affected cities. Fogg looked up at the approaching F-16 on the screen.

“Where are the others?” Carrack asked.

“Deep Blue is on the ground in Chicago; Bishop and Knight in Shanghai,” Aleman responded, as his hands flew over the split keyboard.

“And Queen?” Carrack asked calmly as he flipped through video footage of city after city affected by the strange glowing disturbances.

“No idea,” Aleman turned and smiled at Carrack, “But Rook is back on the grid.”

Carrack turned to look at Aleman, across the room. “No shit?”

“Where is he?” Fogg asked, her attention diverted from the main screen momentarily, as the F-16 got closer to Deep Blue’s location and he kept his eyes (and therefore the image on the main screen) on the approaching plane.

“Norway,” Aleman said. “With another problem waiting for us once we finish dealing with this one.” He sounded tired. Fogg came over and laid her hand on his shoulder.

“You holding up, Lewis?”

“I’ll manage, I-”

“Holy shit!” Pierce stood up in his chair and stared at the main screen. All eyes in the room went to it as the lightning bolt reached skyward to stab at the approaching F-16. Sparks flew from the chassis of the jet and arced in a wide swath to a nearby building before dissipating.

Deep Blue zoomed his camera view in on the plane, as Carrack, Aleman and Fogg watched in horrified silence from their remote location.

Aleman toggled Deep Blue’s channel onto the room’s loudspeaker.

King, Deep Blue here. You okay? King? Talk to me buddy.

The view zoomed in as the wounded plane dipped and tilted wildly. Tracking software in the helmet kept the view on the vehicle. As the camera got in closer, they could see King moving in the second seat of the plane, but the pilot wasn’t moving at all.

“Oh God,” Fogg said.

King was attempting to climb over the top of the pilot’s seat and the dead pilot, head first, squeezing between the pilot’s headrest and the canopy.

His comms must be out. C’mon, King. Punch out of there. C’mon…

As Deep Blue’s voice began to trail off, Fogg and the others watched, horrorstruck, as the plane dipped further and headed for a hard smackdown in the middle of Chicago.

Just then, the canopy blew off the top of the plane and the pilot’s seat ejected, with the pilot still strapped in it, and with King, in a flight suit and leaning over the top of the chair, clutching the dead pilot’s knees for dear life. The ejecting seat rocketed out of the diving F-16. The plane rolled so it was perpendicular with the oncoming ground and the surging energy sphere when the seat shot out, the port wing of the plane pointing straight down.

Aleman understood what it meant as soon as he saw the canopy launch off. “Oh no!”

The ejection seat, with King precariously clinging to its passenger, shot horizontally across the concrete canyon between skyscrapers, heading right for one of the upper floors of the Park Hyatt building, thirty feet away, with the growling energy dome 800 feet below it.