super-fit, with very short brown hair, a long, shapely nose, high cheekbones and large brown eyes. When one of the original members of E-Force, Josh Thompson, had resigned six months ago, Chloe had been recruited to replace him.
Dimitri Godska, a Ukrainian pilot, had been with E-Force from the beginning as part of one of the backup teams. In his civilian life he had been an experienced surgeon. Only 168 centimetres, he was slender but very muscular. He had long black hair in a ponytail, jet-black eyes and a strong jaw. He always seemed to have a five o’clock shadow, whatever the time of day. To his left, in the aisle, seated in his electric wheelchair, was Tom Erickson, E-Force’s resident computer genius.
‘Well, this is the situation at 8.01 PST, 47 minutes into the operation to save Thor 1 ,’ Mark said. He clicked a remote in his right hand and the image on the wall froze. It showed the Aon Tower in Downtown LA and a cluster of aircraft close to the building, climbing vertically. It was the E-Force team struggling to rescue the three survivors aboard Thor 1 . The images had been taken by BigEye 4 over California, one of the team’s 32 satellites in geosynchronous orbit.
‘You can see the nanonet is going into a cascade rip here.’ Mark moved the remote to produce a coloured circle on the frozen image, directly over the web of nanothreads. ‘Tom, you’ve done an analysis, yeah?’
Tom’s wheelchair whirred as he came to the front of the conference room, stopping the opposite side of the huge screen from Mark. ‘At this point, just as the major rip begins, the nanonet is under a strain equivalent to 1.4 3 105 newtons per square metre,’ Tom said.
Pete Sherringham whistled.
‘Yeah, some serious shit,’ Tom went on.
‘Can we improve the net’s strength for future operations?’ Mark asked. ‘We almost failed –’
A loud screech of a siren filled the room. They knew immediately what it meant. Mark turned and they all filed out.
Cyber Control was only 20 metres away along a wide corridor. ‘What’s happening?’ Mark said as he strode into the room ahead of the others.
Cyber Control was a vast, circular space. Around the edges stood computer modules. Technicians in boiler suits sat at consoles, some staring at holographic displays floating above the controls, while others tapped at virtual keyboards – simply light projections on flat surfaces. The rear wall was taken up with a screen 15 metres long by 10 high.
‘Projecting on screen now, sir,’ one of the techs said. ‘This is just in from BigEye 17 over the Persian Gulf.’
The screen was filled completely with orange. But then some movement could be made out: an image from a camera high over the desert sweeping across the sand. The angle changed and in the centre of the screen they could all see a distant skyline – towers glistening in the morning sun, a backdrop of unblemished blue.
‘That’s Dubai,’ Chloe said. She was standing a few metres to Mark’s left.
The image changed rapidly as the camera closed in. A live feed from Downtown Dubai filled the screen.
‘Oh my God!’ Mai exclaimed, taking a step forwards. There was no human sound in the room.
The wall monitor showed a tall tower, so tall it seemed to be completely out of proportion with all but a couple of other spires. The Cloud Tower was famous around the globe. It was a marvel of modern engineering. But a dozen or so floors down from the top, a huge hole had been punched through the tower. Whatever it was that had smashed into the building had taken at least 15 floors with it. Above and below these, the structure had been ravaged, pillars caved in, windows obliterated. A massive black stain some 50 metres long stretched from the bottom of the chasm, running down the side of the building. Red, orange, blue and green flames licked outwards from the hole. A great billowing black cloud of smoke streamed out of the western side of the tower blown by the winds coming in
Dimitri Godska, a Ukrainian pilot, had been with E-Force from the beginning as part of one of the backup teams. In his civilian life he had been an experienced surgeon. Only 168 centimetres, he was slender but very muscular. He had long black hair in a ponytail, jet-black eyes and a strong jaw. He always seemed to have a five o’clock shadow, whatever the time of day. To his left, in the aisle, seated in his electric wheelchair, was Tom Erickson, E-Force’s resident computer genius.
‘Well, this is the situation at 8.01 PST, 47 minutes into the operation to save Thor 1 ,’ Mark said. He clicked a remote in his right hand and the image on the wall froze. It showed the Aon Tower in Downtown LA and a cluster of aircraft close to the building, climbing vertically. It was the E-Force team struggling to rescue the three survivors aboard Thor 1 . The images had been taken by BigEye 4 over California, one of the team’s 32 satellites in geosynchronous orbit.
‘You can see the nanonet is going into a cascade rip here.’ Mark moved the remote to produce a coloured circle on the frozen image, directly over the web of nanothreads. ‘Tom, you’ve done an analysis, yeah?’
Tom’s wheelchair whirred as he came to the front of the conference room, stopping the opposite side of the huge screen from Mark. ‘At this point, just as the major rip begins, the nanonet is under a strain equivalent to 1.4 3 105 newtons per square metre,’ Tom said.
Pete Sherringham whistled.
‘Yeah, some serious shit,’ Tom went on.
‘Can we improve the net’s strength for future operations?’ Mark asked. ‘We almost failed –’
A loud screech of a siren filled the room. They knew immediately what it meant. Mark turned and they all filed out.
Cyber Control was only 20 metres away along a wide corridor. ‘What’s happening?’ Mark said as he strode into the room ahead of the others.
Cyber Control was a vast, circular space. Around the edges stood computer modules. Technicians in boiler suits sat at consoles, some staring at holographic displays floating above the controls, while others tapped at virtual keyboards – simply light projections on flat surfaces. The rear wall was taken up with a screen 15 metres long by 10 high.
‘Projecting on screen now, sir,’ one of the techs said. ‘This is just in from BigEye 17 over the Persian Gulf.’
The screen was filled completely with orange. But then some movement could be made out: an image from a camera high over the desert sweeping across the sand. The angle changed and in the centre of the screen they could all see a distant skyline – towers glistening in the morning sun, a backdrop of unblemished blue.
‘That’s Dubai,’ Chloe said. She was standing a few metres to Mark’s left.
The image changed rapidly as the camera closed in. A live feed from Downtown Dubai filled the screen.
‘Oh my God!’ Mai exclaimed, taking a step forwards. There was no human sound in the room.
The wall monitor showed a tall tower, so tall it seemed to be completely out of proportion with all but a couple of other spires. The Cloud Tower was famous around the globe. It was a marvel of modern engineering. But a dozen or so floors down from the top, a huge hole had been punched through the tower. Whatever it was that had smashed into the building had taken at least 15 floors with it. Above and below these, the structure had been ravaged, pillars caved in, windows obliterated. A massive black stain some 50 metres long stretched from the bottom of the chasm, running down the side of the building. Red, orange, blue and green flames licked outwards from the hole. A great billowing black cloud of smoke streamed out of the western side of the tower blown by the winds coming in
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