ALL NOVEL Chapter 39: Chapter 39
A soldier stared at the screen, his voice trembling with disbelief as he exclaimed, "Brigadier General Cagle, the missile silo has been activated automatically!"
"What did you say?"
Brigadier General Cagle felt a chill run down his spine. The flames of ambition that had burned so brightly just moments ago, the determination to surpass Slade and prove himself were extinguished in an instant. His hands felt cold and clammy, his entire body rigid with fear.
There were seventeen missiles stored in the silo, five of which were always primed for launch. These included missiles with yields of 30, 70, 300, 6,000, and 10,000 tons. Together, they had the power to completely destroy the military base and its 10,000 personnel in a devastating instant.
To put it into perspective, the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima during World War II had an explosive yield equivalent to approximately 13,000 tons of TNT. The five missiles now primed to launch carried a combined destructive force exceeding 16,000 tons of TNT—more than enough to reduce the base to ash.
"The surveillance feed from the underground research institute has been cut off!"
"The missile silo's control system isn't responding!"
"None of the missile systems are responding—BGM-109G Tomahawk cruise missiles, MIM-104 Patriot surface-to-air missiles, short-range missiles, medium-range missiles, surface-to-surface missiles, and surface-to-air missiles—all unresponsive!"
"Some vehicle-mounted, network-controlled missiles are also offline!"
Brigadier General Cagle's pupils dilated in horror. In this moment, all his intelligence and strategic thinking were useless. A cold sweat ran down his back as his body froze in fear.
The realization hit him like a hammer: they had lost control. All network-controlled missiles, from the silos to the vehicles, had been taken over. If any of these weapons were to detonate, the base would be leveled into a flat, smoldering wasteland.
"Brigadier General Cagle, someone has hacked into our systems from the inside!" another soldier shouted.
The room erupted into chaos. Soldiers pounded frantically at their keyboards, desperately trying to regain control, but their efforts were futile.
"Can you take back control?" Cagle shouted, his voice sharp with panic.
"There's no way!" a soldier from the cyber team yelled back, his voice breaking with frustration and disbelief. "Whoever's doing this is operating on a level beyond anything we've ever seen. There's not a single trace to track, we're completely locked out!"
It wasn't just a matter of superior technology; it felt as if they were up against something supernatural. The hacker's skill was so overwhelming that it defied comprehension.
Cagle's hands clenched into fists, his palms slick with sweat. He could feel despair creeping in, a crushing sense of powerlessness.
Suddenly, a thought struck him like a dagger to the heart. Was this the same despair Slade had faced before his death? The same crushing hopelessness in the face of an overwhelming force?
He couldn't let himself dwell on it. His voice rose, hoarse but commanding: "Cut off the power! Shut down the entire grid! Stop the missile silo from launching!"
Cagle's bloodshot eyes widened, his expression a mix of desperation and rage. "Shut everything down now!" he roared, as if yelling would give him some semblance of control over the situation.
The soldiers scrambled to comply. Soon, the hum of machinery in the command room died away, and the lights dimmed before going completely dark. Silence fell over the room, broken only by the frantic breathing of the soldiers.
In the darkness, there was a brief moment of fragile relief. Without electricity, the missile systems couldn't operate. For a moment, it felt like they had regained some measure of control.
But the fear lingered. Every soldier in the room knew the destructive power of those missiles—16,000 tons of explosive force was no theoretical threat. They had seen the devastation wrought by nuclear weapons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. None of them could banish the fear of what might happen if even one missile launched.
Despite the power outage, Brigadier General Cagle remained tense, his heart pounding in his chest. His breaths came in shallow gasps as he struggled to control his rising panic.
Does this method even work?
No...
Suddenly, the lights flickered back on.
The computers around the room began to hum back to life, their mechanical sounds reverberating ominously in the tense silence. On the screens, programs began to load automatically.
Cagle's heart sank. His worst fear had come true.
Every critical system in the base, including the missile silo, was equipped with backup power supplies. These systems were designed to pull power from alternate sources in the event of an outage, whether from the underground research institute, the missile silo, or other connected facilities.
And now, someone had exploited that very design to restore power.
The light did nothing to comfort the soldiers. Instead, it illuminated their pale, terrified faces. Their gazes darted to one another, searching for answers, for reassurance, but finding only shared despair.
Brigadier General Cagle's face turned ashen. His body trembled involuntarily, a chill running through him as he realized the gravity of their situation.
Then it happened.
A deep rumble rose from beneath their feet. The ground vibrated subtly, sending small clouds of dust drifting upward. Particles of dust began to jump and tremble as the rumble grew louder.
Everyone could feel it, the ground was trembling unnaturally, as if some monstrous beast was about to break free from beneath the surface.
"What's going on?"
"An earthquake?"
"Wait… no, it's…"
"A missile! A missile has launched!"
Some soldiers stammered nervously, unable to form coherent thoughts.
---
Missile Silo
With a deafening roar, a 30-ton payload missile erupted from the silo, its tail spewing scorching flames that shook the air and sent shockwaves through the ground. The missile's ascent was powerful and unstoppable, its fiery trail blazing toward the heavens.
Outside, the soldiers surrounding the laboratory building on the ground all turned to watch in confusion as the missile soared upward.
The rumbling noise rattled their ears, making their thoughts chaotic and their expressions dazed.
Why would a missile be launched?
Is there an incoming enemy army? Is there a threat large enough to justify firing a missile from the silo?
Brigadier General Cagle staggered out of the command room, his legs weak and unsteady. His pale face glistened with cold sweat that dripped down his forehead in steady streams.
The general's eyes widened in horror as he looked up and saw the Patriot IV ballistic missile—a ten-meter-long monster with a 30-ton payload—rising with a roar of flames.
The intense heat radiating from the missile's tail seemed to scorch his skin even from this distance, and his drenched face felt as though it might melt under the sun.
Behind him, a group of soldiers rushed out of the command room. Staying inside was futile, Bardi had severed all communications and electronic controls. There was nothing they could do but watch helplessly.
"That's… a Patriot IV ballistic missile," one soldier muttered, identifying the weapon with a tone of dread.
"It's just a ballistic missile," another soldier murmured, as if clinging to some small shred of hope.
A wave of faint relief washed over the group, including Brigadier General Cagle. At least it wasn't exploding over their heads.
Ballistic missiles, as they all knew, followed a predetermined trajectory. Once launched, the missile would fly in a single, preprogrammed direction, determined by its initial launch parameters.
Wherever it's going, it's not here, they thought.
Their momentary relief was tempered by grim silence as they considered where the missile might detonate. Regardless of its target, the destruction it would cause was unimaginable, and they were powerless to stop it.
A religious soldier crossed himself and whispered a soft prayer, "Amen," for the lives about to be lost.
The oppressive silence of the group was heavy with resignation and grief. Some soldiers had tears in their eyes, mourning lives that would soon be snuffed out by this horrific weapon.
---
But the somber atmosphere was shattered.
"What's happening with the missile?"
The exclamation came from a soldier who was staring at the sky, his voice rising in disbelief.
The others followed his gaze and froze.
In the clear blue sky, the ballistic missile suddenly began to turn. A sharp, impossibly wide arc carved through the heavens as the missile altered its trajectory, leaving a massive white trail against the sky.
It wasn't just turning, it was reversing direction.
The soldiers stared, their jaws slack, their minds blank with shock.
The missile was coming back.
"How is this possible?" one soldier shouted, his voice cracking.
"Ballistic missiles don't have this kind of flight pattern!"
"There's no way it could turn!"
"This isn't just improbable—it's impossible!"
The panic among the soldiers was palpable. Their relief turned to terror as the missile, which they had assumed was heading elsewhere, now hurtled back toward them.
They had just been mourning for others—now, they realized their own lives were in jeopardy.
It's better for someone else to die than us, they had thought.
But now, the missile was heading straight for them.
Brigadier General Cagle stood frozen in place, his uniform soaked with sweat. His voice cracked as he whispered, "It's over…"
---
All around the base, soldiers tilted their heads back to watch in abject horror as the Patriot IV ballistic missile came hurtling down from the sky. Its target was clear now.
The missile descended rapidly, piercing the air with deadly precision.
It slammed into the seven-story soldiers' dormitory, punching through the roof and embedding itself deep into the structure.
The building groaned as the missile's impact reverberated through its walls. Dust and debris rained down, and the entire base seemed to hold its breath.
For a moment, there was silence—a stillness so profound it felt as if the world itself had paused.
***
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