Flash Point: The Extinction Series, #2

By Miranda Nading

The End of the World Begins Now

Two years after their glimpse into the abyss, Ryan Edwards has found comfort in denial, while Melanie Edwards has embraced her reunion with C.O.R.E, and Max Dumerick is obsessed with finding and killing the architect of Armageddon.

Everything they’ve learned says the end of the world will come quietly, like a flower struggling to survive Earth’s rising temperatures. None could have foreseen the coming storm.

Before they can make a stand against Extinction, they must first survive its Flash Point.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Miranda Nading
• Release date: Oct 22, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386211143

Miranda Nading

Miranda Nading is a multi-genre novelist and lives in Arkansas with her husband, father, and her two Pomchis. When she's not writing, she can be found reading one of her favorite authors, taking care of her orchids, and spending time with her family.

Book preview

The whispering of unformed wings

Brush silky bonds

Too soon, the dark refuge breaks

And we are thrust into a world

We are not yet ready for.

—Miranda Nading

For my Constant Readers who have supported and encouraged my misbehaving brain.

To Jacki Klancher and Suki Smaglik. For their endless efforts to engage the heart and challenge the mind. Keep Reaching!

A special thanks to the Pedantic Punctuator for her support and encouragement, and Reggie Williams for being the final grade.

And to Cheeky Covers for Extinction’s bold and beautiful new look.

1

"A lpha Station," The voice nearly exploded from the speakers as Commander Melanie Edwards and Station Engineer Yuri Dmitriev ran through their checklist. Only the muting effect of zero gravity on their bodies kept Melanie from jumping and looking like an idiot in front of the big Russian. This is Mission Control–Moscow. We have the ball.

Understood, Moscow has the ball. Board is green for nadir docking, to Russian Orbital Segment MMR 1 Rassvet. Melanie thumbed the internal channel as Moscow acknowledged the green for docking. Victory, coming in from below and aft, only gave them a front view. She always thought the Soyuz looked like a backwards bumble bee, clumsy and awkward, but beautiful. It was also the oldest spacecraft still used since it was relatively cheap to maintain and durable as hell. I thought Kaito wanted to be here for this?

Yuri laughed out loud. You know better. He is glued to his console, as far away from this end of the station as possible. Who are these people that they could not wait for the storm to pass before boarding station?

Maybe that’s why they’re coming in aft the way they are. The extra fuel requirement for that delta-V isn’t worth it, otherwise. Mel grinned as she looked over her shoulder at Yuri, watching as he tracked the spacecraft’s approach toward the underside of the station, preparing to dock with the Rassvet module. You and Kaito are spoiled. Mission Control doesn’t let us play nearly enough. I’d be happy if they let us have control for every maneuver. Two vehicles getting ready to kiss at almost 18,000 miles an hour, what could go wrong?

It is not the kiss that gets us into trouble, Commander, Yuri chuckled. Spacecraft Victory has extended her ring. Docking vector looks good. Kaito said something about a belly ache.

After the dinner of reconstituted hamburgers they ate the night before, she didn’t doubt it. Who doesn’t? I thought we left gut-bombs in the convenience stores back home. You know you’re in space when MRE’s sound yummy.

The Sun, not Kaito, has the belly ache. Last maneuver performed, Victory is shutting down propulsion. And I have had your Meals Ready to Eat. Compared to Russian stock, it is you Americans, who are spoiled.

Mel wanted to turn to see if Yuri was pulling her leg, but it was time to earn her pay. She activated three monitors that would show the coupling of the berthing system, down to the millimeter. Grabbing the stick, she asked, The sun has a bellyache?

It sounded very much like my Uncle Vladimir’s stomach, so perhaps it was hungry.

Moscow, this is Commander Edwards, berthing arm in position, vector looks good, soft dock in five, Mel reported, then to Yuri, I think Kaito spends too much time—

Mel was cut off as the internal com erupted. Science Officer Kaito Takenaka’s English had improved a great deal during his ten month stay on the station. The litany coming through her headset, however, was rapid fire Japanese, peppered with American curse words. She tried several times to speak over him before she lost patience. Dammit, Kaito! If you’re going to cuss me out, do it in English!

There was a moment of silence before Kaito came back on the line, his English clouded by panic, made worse by the static filling the com system. Mel cut him off. I can’t understand you, Kaito. You have got to calm down.

Yuri took over the com. Kaito, the Commander needs to focus, what is wrong?

Realizing her attention had wandered from the screen, she looked up to find the Soyuz spacecraft coming in fast. The drop and drogue arm was two meters off-target. If Victory hit it, and Mel wasn’t ready, it would wreck the arm and crater the Rassvet module. Taking the controls, she moved the berthing arm over, simultaneously pulling it back to get ahead of the ring. Moscow, we have soft capture. Proceeding to guide Victory to Rassvet.

Two seconds after her report, she made it the truth and began guiding the ship to the pressurized docking mechanism. As the clamps slid into place, an alarm peeled through the station. Her hands flew off the controls and her eyes went to the monitors. What the hell?

Kaito reports significant coronal mass ejection, solar storm heading our way. Yuri’s voice was calm, but he was turned towards Mel, his eyes wide.

Mel thumbed the com, Kaito, the solar storm is already here. That’s why I got to play space jockey. What’s the problem?

"Commander, I have had the sensors trained on a large group of sunspots, there are three CMEs moving our way, the sensors are overwhelmed, but the largest is moving faster than anything I have ever seen. We expected several more flares, but the pressure released all at once. At least 3,000 kilometers per second.

This is going to make the Carrington Event look like a low budget Fourth of July fireworks display. Mel’s hand hovered over the switch that would give the green light to the Victory to begin cycling into the station. Geomagnetic storm?

At least an X7, probably stronger. We are going to take a hit.

Alpha Station this is Mission Control Moscow.

Kaito, are you sure about this?

Alpha Station, we are waiting for hard-lock confirmation.

Kaito! she yelled. Are you sure?

Yes, Mel! Dear God, yes!

Mel’s hand moved three inches to the left, slamming down the seal lock for Rassvet, effectively making the crew of Victory prisoners in their own ship. With that done, she punched in the commands to lockout Mission Control’s active access. Moscow, we have a problem. CME X7, in the kill zone. Can you confirm?

Alpha Station, we are reading a lock on Rassvet and active access severed. Explain.

Moscow, can you confirm CME X7 in the kill zone?

Silence filled her headset.

Moscow, please confirm CME X7. Attitude is YVV, repeat: Y-axis in the velocity vector. Moscow, this thing is going to hit us broadside. I need confirmation.

Alpha Station, this is Mission Control–Houston, CME X15 confirmed by Heliophysics. Release Rassvet seal and bring the crew on board.

Moscow and Houston began squabbling over Houston’s interference. With a Soyuz berthing, it was Moscow’s wheelhouse, and Houston’s insubordinate Commander. Mel barely heard them. Her brain was racing with the implications of an X15 aimed directly at earth during solar maxima.

A shaky breath filled the line; Kaito’s stunned voice filled the silence. Mel, the systems max out at X15, this thing is going to peel the earth’s magnetic field like an onion. We are in serious trouble.

How did we not see this coming? Mel finally let go of the breath she had been holding, they needed to show the storm their thinnest profile, where it would do the least amount of damage. We need to turn around.

The pissing contest between Mission Control Centers exploded in multilingual chaos. Yuri closed the channel. Mel, even if we had time, the station’s attitude hasn’t changed since the primary array was installed in 2023. We have no idea what the move will do to them. Yuri had unsnapped his belt and pushed toward her, grabbing the rail to stop his forward motion. Reaching out, he turned her to face him. It could tear them apart.

If that storm hits us broadside, we’ll lose them anyway. She pushed away from him and hit the coms before running through the ignition sequence for the thrusters attached to the Zvezda service module. She said a small prayer as she ran through the checklist; the engines had not been test fired in over ten years. Moscow, going for reboost. Feeding attitude correction into Control Momentum Gyroscopes, redirect to attitude XPH.

Alpha Station, you are not authorized for reboost or attitude change—

I’m not asking permission, Moscow. ISS has the ball, Mel felt sorry for the flight director even as she locked her channel open to keep him from distracting her. Nothing like having the commander of a space station going bat-crap crazy to ruin a guy’s day.

Mel, you’re not talking about a simple orbit boost, you’ll never get her turned in time. Yuri spoke slow and low, as if he were talking to a small child whom he really wanted to yank up and throttle. "This is a very big deal. It will ruin the experiments, we haven’t checked the flight path for debris, and if you’re wrong, we are all going to take the fall for this."

Mel twisted in her seat and grabbed Yuri’s hand, You’re right, I know. And I hope like hell I’m wrong and they throw us under Fort Leavenworth. But what if I’m right? I can’t do this without you.

Yuri’s eyes narrowed to slits. What are you talking about?

The old Progress service vehicle on the Zvezda cargo module. If we can fire her thrusters, she might just give the gyroscopes the muscle they need to turn us faster.

We haven’t used them since the C.O.R.E refit. I don’t even know if she has fuel—

Mel turned back to the console and started running calculations for additional thrust. There’s only one way to find out, Yuri. I trust Kaito. We’ve never been hit head-on by a geomagnetic storm this big. I’m responsible for the safety of this station and her crew, and I need your help.

We’ll lose our primary power source when we change attitude. The panels will go dark.

We have to shut everything down. Emergency power only. It’s the only way to protect the systems and have any chance of firing them back up on stored power.

What about the Vasmir plasma thrusters?

Wrong angle. The Station wasn’t really meant to spin the way I’m going to spin her.

Mel, Kaito sounded as if he were ready to jump out of a view port and go home without them. Whatever you are going to do, please do it now. The leading edge is almost here.

What do you want me to do? Yuri questioned.

Mel let out a breath and nodded. Get over to Zvezda. Seal the hatches as you go. Get Progress ready to rock.

He held her eyes for another heartbeat before pushing off, sailing above her head and out of the Zarya command module, toward the port end of the station. Mel was sure the Russian muttering that followed him had something to do with her mental stability.

Kaito, seal the Destiny, Columbus and Kibo labs. Seal yourself in the Harmony Node. She flipped the coms to contact Victory. Russian Spaceship Victory, continue powering down all non-essential systems and hold on to your ass.

Mission Control–Moscow, this is Commander Melanie Edwards. We are turning this boat with or without your help, but it sure would make me feel better if you double checked the yaw and roll calculations.

Commander Edwards you are ordered to stand down—

Mission Control–Houston. Commander, this is FLIGHT, we’re watching that storm; attitude and reboost are approved. ADCO is running your numbers now. Standby.

Oh, Tom. Thank God. Mel raised a hand to her face to wipe away a tear and realized it was shaking. She clenched her fist to force it to stop, took a deep breath and began taking systems offline.

I’m a little closer than God, Mel. You’re a real pain in my ass, but I trust your instincts. ADCO confirms, recommends thirteen hundred twenty-six point four seconds of burn from Progress. Burn from Zvezda at one hundred thirty-four point two, twenty-two second duration. TOPO is feeding your course corrections now.

Reading course corrections, FLIGHT. Programming CMG now, Mel switched to internal com. Yuri, how’s it looking?

Systems are online; ignition sequence is green across the board. Ready to fire Progress thrusters on your mark, and for the record, I understand now why America took so long to put women in command of aircraft and submarines. They are crazy.

This, from a submariner turned cosmonaut. Standby.

The thrusters on the cargo vehicle would move them into a higher orbit, giving the 400,000 ton station extra momentum that the Zvezda thrusters could use to flip the station around. They would still be climbing when the storm hit.

Alpha Station, this is CAPCOM.

Go for Alpha, CAP.

Recommend first burn in two.

Understood, first burn in two.

She trusted the computers to show her their movement, trusted them enough to time the burns. It had been close to twenty years since anyone had done a manual flight path change and she wanted to see it happen. She turned on the monitor to her left, switching the view to the nadir camera under the backbone of the station, the main truss. The screen filled with a breathtaking view of earth, the southern horn of Africa prominent in the window.

She had sacrificed so much to be here. Her family, friends, and her freedom had all fallen by the wayside for this two-year seat on the ISS. No matter what happened, it had been worth it.

Alpha Station, FLIGHT.

Go FLIGHT.

Good luck, Mel.

Mel programmed the first firing sequence into the clock and waited with her finger on the switch. Yuri, prepare to fire Progress in three, two, one. Fire.

Firing thrusters. We have ignition. Firing for 1326.4 seconds.

Mel hit the timer and began watching the clock race towards the next firing sequence. With no atmosphere to transmit sound, Mel could not hear the roar of the rocket as it fired, yet her body was shoved into the seat. Vibrations, growing stronger with each second, passed through the massive station. It tickled her feet and everything attached to the structure began to jitter and dance in place.

She couldn’t help glancing at the small monitor that framed the earth. For a long time, it didn’t seem to change–their position looked stagnant. Little by little, Africa opened up and she could to see the Arabian Peninsula. As the clock hit 134.2, she fired the Zveda thrusters, watching as the view of the earth began to roll; the curved horizon of the small planet came into view, backed by the deep dark of space. Metal in the 357-foot main truss torqued as the station rolled, groans floated through the pressurized station like protesting spirits.

Melanie shivered as the haunting sound grew. Her imagination quickly grabbed the eerie vibrations, and images of cemetery-bound wraiths grabbed at her mind’s eye. She shook her head and forced her attention to the clock to kill the primary thrusters on Zvezda.

Using the port thrusters on the module to break the rolling action, she watched darkness fill the monitor and switched to the starboard camera. Earth once again filled the screen, the view still changing as the ISS sought a higher orbit, still moving as the ISS continued to race across the sky at almost 18,000 miles per hour.

Progress shut down in three, two, one. Kill Progress.

Shut down complete. Settling into new orbit.

Alpha, this is FLIGHT. Well done.

Mel ran a check on orbit and attitude, and began shutting down as many systems as she could. As the lights dimmed in the Zarya command module, she said, Thanks, Tom. Shutting down all non-essentials. Leaving power to life support and environmental only.

We are expecting extensive damage to satellites, be sure to have the S band up and running. You will be in line of sight for Ham when the storm passes.

Mel, you need to see this, Kaito had gone from sounding terrified to awestruck. Even before Mel turned, she knew what he was seeing, as eerie green light danced across the console. Mel fought with her restraints and pushed toward the small viewing port as Kaito continued. It is incredible, as if the atmosphere has become the ocean.

The aurora caused by the solar storm waved and danced around the earth, heading their way. The green was shot through with red, as particles made it through the magnetic field and ignited in the atmosphere.

Beautiful! Yuri had been so quiet; she had almost forgotten that he was hiding out in Zvezda. No one spoke as they watched the front edge of the magnetosphere grab particles from the geomagnetic storm and shove them into the thermosphere. The aurora borealis seen from the night-side of Earth would be spectacular, but it was nothing compared to a front row seat.

Mel drifted in zero gravity, captivated by the stunning light show as it traveled around them, above and below, making a run toward the South Pole. She reached out to touch the window, almost reverently, and it saved her life. The space station lurched hard, slamming into Mel’s hand, snapping her wrist and pushing her back, rather than smacking her in the face.

Screaming, she was spun backwards as the station leapt again, frantically trying to grab at the nylon hand and footholds as they flew past her face. Shouts rang out in her headset as Yuri and Kaito were tossed through the ship.

Sparks erupted from the console and the power management unit as the station lurched again, slamming into Mel’s back. It sent her tumbling towards the console. She fought to twist her body around so she could grab the rail, and failed.

The back of her head clipped the console and she had enough time to see the blood, blue in the light of the aurora, drift passed her head before darkness swallowed her.

2

Max Dumaric hated Florida . He hated the heat, he hated the humidity, and most of all, he hated the sun. He pulled his eye from the NightForce scope and twisted the cap off a sorely depleted bottle of Jim Beam.

After taking a swig, he replaced the cap and wiped the sweat from his eyes before propping his cheek on the cool, black widow stock of Betty, his Lapua .338 Magnum Rifle. 1400 yards away and down ten degrees stood the glass doors of the Ritz Carlton.

If Miami was hell, the art deco section of South