White House Situation Room
Washington, DC
“Mr. President, we have to abort the attack!”
President Starling spun in his chair, staring at the screen. “What?”
Director Morrison leaned closer to the camera. “Sir, my agent inside thinks he can use their equipment to send the abort order.” The room went silent.
“Explain.”
Morrison shook his head. “There’s no time, sir! Abort the attack, or we face World War Three.”
Starling realized Morrison was right. There was no time to debate. He had to trust his people. He rose, pointing at General Parsons. “Abort the attack, now!”
“Yes, Mr. President!”
Phones were grabbed and orders given as everyone turned toward the screens, live footage from the cameras of the inbound missiles showing their rapid approach.
“There it is!” cried someone as the target became visible, the indicator showing a lock.
“Abort the attack, now!” cried General Parsons.
Suddenly the displays went dead, one by one, and Starling stared at another showing the incoming missile locations, the green triangles rapidly disappearing from the screen.
General Parsons sighed, dropping into his chair. “Attack aborted, Mr. President.” Starling closed his eyes then was nearly sick when Parsons continued. “Let’s just hope we didn’t give them time to send another launch order.”
Starling dropped into his chair, suddenly not confident he had made the right choice.