Page 176
Story: Blowback
For the past couple of hours she and her staff, grouped around workstations and desks clustered together in this secure basement bunker, have been seeing China deploy both physical and cyber assets this morning, prepping for war.
Sitting next to her is Army Colonel Patrick Coulson, the deputy duty officer today. He’s staring at her with anticipation. Less than an hour ago she had received a verified order from the National Command Authority to launch a cyberattack on the People’s Republic of China—Case Shanghai—and now it’s two minutes away from 1200 hours, the time she is ordered to issue the go code.
Her fingers trace across the keyboard.
The planned commands and dialogue boxes are up on her computer screen.
Just a few taps of the keyboard and the lawful orders from theNational Command Authority—President Barrett Keegan—will be issued.
She waits.
“Ma’am,” Colonel Coulson says. “We’re one minute away.”
“Got it.”
For her past year at Cybercommand, she’s been working low-level operations that didn’t require presidential approval, called “persistent engagement.” Poking in and around adversarial computer systems, installing surveillance and malware software where possible, and occasionally kicking a cyber opponent in the balls to let them know the United States isn’t a passive victim.
Thirty seconds left.
But this … this is an incredible escalation.
Like going from a little border incident involving one or two rifle shots to a full nuclear conflict.
“Ma’am,” Colonel Coulson says. “It’s twelve hundred hours.”
She waits, looking at all the display screens and terminals, and, one by one, the staff here turn their heads to her, to see what’s going on.
“Ma’am, we have a lawful order to follow.”
Yvonne recalls a time as a child when she took apart the family’s laptop and installed extra memory, and Dad’s anger was quickly dispersed when he saw how fast and efficient their old computer now was.
That’s what Yvonne loves about computers and associated systems.
Enhancing, not destroying.
“General Knight, is there a problem?” her deputy asks. “It’s one minute past the go time.”
She says, “Get on the horn. I want confirmation.”
“Ma’am, you know that’s not allowed. That’s not procedure. You have to—”
Yvonne snaps, “Screw procedure. I’m not about to incinerate most of the world’s internet without additional confirmation. Make the call, Colonel. It’s on me. You’re just following orders.”
His jaw is set and he’s about to pick up the phone when it suddenly starts ringing.
“It’s coming in for you, General,” he says.
Career over, court martial coming, jail time in her future, but so what.
At least she would sleep tonight. “Answer it,” she says.
CHAPTER 148
CIA DIRECTOR HANNAH Abrams is sitting at a round wooden table, covered by a crisp white tablecloth, her hand shaking as she brings up a tumbler of ice water to her mouth.
Across from her is General Tucker Wyman. They are both in the dining room adjacent to President Hernandez’s bed. She is back asleep, and Hannah wishes her well, for the press is gathering like a flash mob outside of Walter Reed. It’s only going to get worse as the news spreads wider.
The general looks like he’s just run a marathon. He’s slumped back against his chair, uniform tie undone, face sweaty. Over the years Hannah has had some classified dealings with Tucker, and she’s found him to be a rarity, a military officer who hadn’t forgotten his roots in the mud and the field with bullets whistling overhead.
Sitting next to her is Army Colonel Patrick Coulson, the deputy duty officer today. He’s staring at her with anticipation. Less than an hour ago she had received a verified order from the National Command Authority to launch a cyberattack on the People’s Republic of China—Case Shanghai—and now it’s two minutes away from 1200 hours, the time she is ordered to issue the go code.
Her fingers trace across the keyboard.
The planned commands and dialogue boxes are up on her computer screen.
Just a few taps of the keyboard and the lawful orders from theNational Command Authority—President Barrett Keegan—will be issued.
She waits.
“Ma’am,” Colonel Coulson says. “We’re one minute away.”
“Got it.”
For her past year at Cybercommand, she’s been working low-level operations that didn’t require presidential approval, called “persistent engagement.” Poking in and around adversarial computer systems, installing surveillance and malware software where possible, and occasionally kicking a cyber opponent in the balls to let them know the United States isn’t a passive victim.
Thirty seconds left.
But this … this is an incredible escalation.
Like going from a little border incident involving one or two rifle shots to a full nuclear conflict.
“Ma’am,” Colonel Coulson says. “It’s twelve hundred hours.”
She waits, looking at all the display screens and terminals, and, one by one, the staff here turn their heads to her, to see what’s going on.
“Ma’am, we have a lawful order to follow.”
Yvonne recalls a time as a child when she took apart the family’s laptop and installed extra memory, and Dad’s anger was quickly dispersed when he saw how fast and efficient their old computer now was.
That’s what Yvonne loves about computers and associated systems.
Enhancing, not destroying.
“General Knight, is there a problem?” her deputy asks. “It’s one minute past the go time.”
She says, “Get on the horn. I want confirmation.”
“Ma’am, you know that’s not allowed. That’s not procedure. You have to—”
Yvonne snaps, “Screw procedure. I’m not about to incinerate most of the world’s internet without additional confirmation. Make the call, Colonel. It’s on me. You’re just following orders.”
His jaw is set and he’s about to pick up the phone when it suddenly starts ringing.
“It’s coming in for you, General,” he says.
Career over, court martial coming, jail time in her future, but so what.
At least she would sleep tonight. “Answer it,” she says.
CHAPTER 148
CIA DIRECTOR HANNAH Abrams is sitting at a round wooden table, covered by a crisp white tablecloth, her hand shaking as she brings up a tumbler of ice water to her mouth.
Across from her is General Tucker Wyman. They are both in the dining room adjacent to President Hernandez’s bed. She is back asleep, and Hannah wishes her well, for the press is gathering like a flash mob outside of Walter Reed. It’s only going to get worse as the news spreads wider.
The general looks like he’s just run a marathon. He’s slumped back against his chair, uniform tie undone, face sweaty. Over the years Hannah has had some classified dealings with Tucker, and she’s found him to be a rarity, a military officer who hadn’t forgotten his roots in the mud and the field with bullets whistling overhead.
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