Nuclear Shadows

Key

He was sitting at the controls of an ICBM, the Minuteman III. It had 170 kilotons yield, which was more than enough to make someone have a bad-day. He scratched his head. 

The whirrs of the automated machinery were audible, the lieutenant had his feet on his desk, whistling.

A ping could be heard.

He heard his voice.

"Warhead alarm, number eight."

"Give it a thump with your finger."

He did as instructed.

"Alarm reset."

He switched to the camera of the missile.

He heard a notifying beep.

"Anvil, this is Dropkick. Coming in with a red-dash-alpha message. Standby to receive authentication code. Break, break."

He shouted to the lieutenant.

"Get your book, standby to copy the message!"

He reached up for his sheet, it was a laminated paper where, if the code was correct, it would confirm a missile launch.

"Romeo, oscar, november, charlie, tango, tango, lima, alpha. Authentication; 2, 2, 0, 4, 0, delta, lima."

In the USAF, they operated under the rule of two, meaning they had to agree with action of the other in order to perform a launch.

"Authenticate the code."

"I agree with authentication also, sir."

They stood up, and took their keys to the lockbox, opening up a box of laminated cards. They broke off the seal, and matched the card to the code. It was matching.

"Enter your launch code," Lewis said, with a hint of nervousness.

"Entering launch code." The lieutenant replied.

He began to type on his computer keyboard, and the computer verifies the message.

"Launch order confirmed, it says. Holy shit."

He typed.

"Launch selection complete, yield selection complete."

Lewis' heart rate began to beat faster. He started to sweat.

"Okay, let's do it, insert launch key."

The computer's automated recorded message could be heard.

"T-Minus sixty."

They put their keys into their own key insertion, which had three conditions.

'INSERT'

'SET'

'LAUNCH'

"Launch key inserted, on my mark, rotate key to set. Three, two, one, mark."

They both turn the key.

He glanced at the camera. The Minuteman module began to whirr, the hatch opened.

"Ena-enable missiles." He stuttered.

"T-Minus forty." The automated voice was heard.

"Enabling missiles. One enabled, two enabled, three enabled, four, five, six, seven, eight. All missiles enabled, sir."

Lewis' hands shook. He glanced at the module, and grabbed the phone.

"I need someone on the goddamned phone..."

The lieutenant looked at him.

"Get me Wing Command post on your direct-line."

"That's not the procedure, sir."

"Strategic Air Command on the HF."

"That's not the procedure, we have to do this, sir."

"Screw the goddamned procedure, I want someone on the phone before I kill twenty million people!"

He picks it up, dialing in a number.

"Nothing, they might've been knocked out already, captain."

"I-I-I, uhhh..." He thought about his kids, Jeffrey, Lisa, Nate.

The lieutenant spoke. "Sir, your order."

"T-Minus twenty." The voice updated.

"On my mark, rotate key to launch."

"One, two, three."

They turn their keys.