Tim Washburn - Powerless

Thanks to Gary Goldstein for being willing to take a chance. My deepest gratitude to all those at Kensington who worked on Powerless, including Lou Malcangi, for the terrific cover design, and Arthur Maisel. Thanks to my agent, Jim Donovan, for his advice and guidance through the intricacies of the publishing business.

Although Powerless is my first published novel, there was much that came before. The one person other than my wife whos read everything Ive written is Kristi Goodwin Self, M.D. Thanks, Kristi, for your comments and advice. Thanks also to Marcus and Pamela Whitt for perusing some of my earlier work.

I dont know whos more excited about the novels release, me or my parents, Loren and Frances Washburn. Its here, Mom! Our children are the center of our universe. Thanks, Kelsey and husband, Andrew Snider, Nickolas, and Karley for brightening our world. Without you, life would be an empty shell. Thanks to Jack and Sue Cress for creating the woman who became my wife.

And finallyTonya. You are a wonderful wife, a caring physician, a nurturing mother, who also happens to be my best friend. Your support has never wavered and Im forever grateful. Thanks for being the love of my life and for journeying with me on this meandering path called life.

National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration

Space Weather Prediction Center, Boulder, Colorado

Wednesday, September 29, 6:42 A.M.

The hushed darkness of the observation room is a breeding ground for sleepespecially for Daniel, this semesters intern. Tasked as the lone overnight worker, he is waging war against the heaviness of his eyelids during the final hour of his shift at the Space Weather Prediction Center. As his head droops to his chest a shrill noise pierces the silence so harshly he claps his hands over his ears.

Daniel rockets out of the chair as if being ejected from a flaming-out fighter jet and stumbles from one computer monitor to another in a frantic search for the alarms source. With a shaky finger he thumbs his thick glasses farther up his nose as he races around the small room. This is the first time any type of warning has sounded during his two-month stay. His panic escalates. An alarm signaling what? An asteroid on a collision course with Earth? The explosion of the sun? Or simply a minor malfunction?

His predecessor had briefly mentioned something about alarms but no further explanation had been offered. Not a concern, he had been told. But now Daniels concerned. His heart is pumping faster than a freight train going uphill. He comes to an abrupt halt in front of the computer attached to a direct feed from the Tucson observatory perched atop Kitt Peak.

The data scrolling across the screen looks more like ancient Greek to Daniel than some decipherable problem: a stream of numbers and words, most of them flashing red.

This cant be good, he mutters as he fumbles with the keyboard in an attempt to silence the ear-piercing noise. His fingers gouge at the keys, trying every possible combination including the old standby: Control-Alt-Delete. No luck. Daniel is breathing fast and what began as a quiver is now a full-on shake as he glances up to see Dr. Kaylee Connor, one of the paid scientists, racing toward him.

What the hell did you do, Daniel? Kaylee shouts, hipping him away from the monitor.

I didnt do a damn thing. It just went off. He leans in closer for another look at the screen. What the hell is going on?

Kaylee doesnt answer. Her gaze is focused on the data scrolling upward like a machine possessed. Her fingers punch a precise combination of computer keys, and the alarm stops. Daniel releases a long sigh. But then he notices the worry on Kaylees face.

Without turning her gaze from the screen, Kaylee says, Daniel, get Sam on the phone and tell him to get his ass over here, pronto.

Are you going to tell me whats going on?

I dont know, damn it. Just get Sam on the phone. She glances up at Daniel. Now!

Daniel races to the nearest desk and grabs the handset only to slam it down a moment later. I dont know his number.

Kaylee shimmies her cell from the back pocket of her too-tight black jeans and tosses it across the room. Sams in my contact list.

While he places the call, Kaylee turns back to the monitor. Not fucking possible, she whispers.

She glances up to see Daniel racing across the room, the cell phone extended like a relay-race baton. Sam, he says, thrusting the cell into her hand.

She slaps the phone to her ear. We have a serious situation.

Whats happened? Dr. Samuel Blake, director of the Space Weather Prediction Center, says.

A massive CME triggered an alarm. Her voice is laced with fear.

How massive and when?

Off the scale. Our instruments recorded the ejectionshe glances at the clock on the wallabout fifteen minutes ago. What do you want me to do?

Ill be there in five. Print out all the data and start calling everyone back into the office. No excuses. I want everybody on site and ready to go in thirty minutes.

Kaylee punches the off button on her phone and begins printing out all the material from the computer. Glancing up between tasks, she spots Daniel standing off to the side, a befuddled expression on his face. Do something, Daniel. Start calling everyone and tell them to get their asses in here as fast as they can.

Daniel spins away.

Wait! First, print out everything from ACE, concentrating on the last four hours.

Is the coronal mass ejection headed this way?

We wont know anything until you print out the data. Now move your ass.

Daniel rushes to the workstation where the information from the Advanced Composition Explorer (ACE) satellite is viewed. His hands are shaking so severely he can hardly type. He logs on and begins to print out the data just as the computer screen winks out, as if the plug had been yanked from the wall. Kaylee, he shouts across the room, ACE is down.

She turns away from her workstation and moves to his side. What do you mean down?

The screen just went black.

Whats happening? a deep voice booms across the room. They both glance up to see Samuel Blake, dressed in his usual khaki slacks and light blue shirt, striding in their direction. At six-two, he towers over both of them.

ACE suddenly went off-line, Daniel says.

Ive told them a thousand times that satellite could die at any minute. Sam nudges Daniel away from the computer. All those budget cuts are killing us.

Why is this particular satellite so important? Daniel says.

Without that bird, were blind. Sams fingers race across the keyboard, holding down certain keys while punching others. When the screen doesnt respond, he slams his hand on the desk. He whirls the chair around and stands. Kaylee, get on the horn to NASA. Find out what the hell is going on with the satellite. He makes a beeline toward his office down the hallway.

Daniel follows, tugging his jeans up with every step. What about the telescopes? Will we be able to see the plasma clouds?

No. There wont be any visible indicators. Its just a seething mass of highly charged particles. Sam pauses at the doorway to his office. If ACE is out of action were blind. Without that data we wont know a damn thing.

Daniel turns away, but stops when Sam says, Did you call everyone?

Im in the process.

Make sure they understand the urgency.

Yes, sir. Daniel hesitates. Dr. Blake, how long do you think before it hits here?