After Action

Control Room (Before the Launch)

The following narrative is adapted from internal video and audio recordings. All efforts have been made to accurately depict Captains Hudson and Latimer based on contemporaneous personal log entries and After Action reports.

14 September 2018, 13:53 // Visigoth Outpost Victor Charlie

"Shit!" Hudson shouted, a knee-jerk reaction to the sudden barrage of alarm klaxons thundering between the cement floor and metal walls. Whoever designed the silo clearly had no idea how sound worked.

Hudson quickly closed out of the email he was writing to the Air Force shrink, zipped his flight suit up to regulation, and ran out into the hall. "Amy, is this another drill?"

Without waiting for, or receiving, a reply, he rounded the corner, pushing off the hard angle of the bulkhead, not losing any speed. When the klaxons sounded, every second mattered.

Amber lights flashed in concert with the alarm. The pulse of the silo had quickened. Hudson's own heart raced to keep up, a burst of adrenaline helping it keep pace.

The launch control room was small and not nearly as thrilling as Hollywood made it seem. The control console was a mirror image of itself: two identical leather chairs on a sliding metal track; two identical computer consoles that looked like something out of a Roger Moore-era Bond film; cream-colored keyboards and a panel of multicolored lights. Above the console was a bookshelf stuffed with three-ring binders, each one labeled something ominous but vague: Straw Man Contingency, Heathcliff Protocol, Arbiter Dawn. A few others were equally ominous but quite literal: Nuclear Launch Authority Chain of Command, Strategic Asset Target Locations (Africa), Strategic Asset Target Locations (Asia).

Hudson slapped the giant yellow acknowledgment button. The klaxons silenced and the amber lights winked out. Only a steady yellow warning light above the console reminded everyone that an emergency had been declared. 

"Amy!" Hudson shouted again, falling into his chair and grabbing the SOP Checklist. "Sound off!"

As he flipped to the first page and typed in his console's login code, Hudson heard the familiar skip-hop of Air Force Captain Latimer's gait, accompanied by utterances of every swear known to man. She had convinced the Air Force doctors that the leg didn't bother her anymore, but she didn't seem to care about impressing Hudson. 

"Sitrep?" she asked, swinging the heavy steel door shut and sealing them in the room. 

Hudson heard fat drops of water splash across the deck and looked up at Latimer brushing clumps of wet hair back into her short bob. "Caught you in the shower?"

"Set consoles to action one," she said, sliding into her chair, drying her hands on her flight suit, and altogether ignoring Hudson. 

The fact that she was incapable of small talk frustrated Hudson to no end. But jumping out of a shower and into a regulation uniform in less than thirty seconds – that was impressive. "Action one."

Even though their checklists were exact copies, Captain Latimer was the designated reader. "Launch authority received at 13:52 from US PACCOM." A tiny printer above Latimer's chair hissed and spit out a half-foot of neon green receipt paper. "Shit." 

That wasn't on the checklist. 

"It's not a drill," Hudson said.

But that curse was all the informality Latimer could muster. "Open butterfly valve lock."

"BVL open," Hudson said. "Light is green. Stage one engines ready for pre-fuel check. Surface warning control reads ready."

"Copy SWC ready." She turned the page. "Check circuit breaker 104."