Stormhaven Rising (Atlas and the Winds Book 1) by Eric Michael Craig Page B

on his screen.
    “Oh,” Watkins said. “So we’re supposed to keep that... shit, if word gets out—“
    “Exactly,” Shapiro said.
    “So this isn’t a brute force operation,” Shapiro said. “We need to finesse it until we know how many know."
    He reached up and punched in another command, opening the background files on Stormhaven. “That isn’t just a corporate office we’re looking at either, it’s apparently some kind of community. There may be hundreds of people living there. Possibly kids. We don’t know what we’re getting into,” Shapiro said. “They’ve also got some shit in there that would scare the snot out of DARPA."
    “If they do, you can bet we know about it.” Abrams snorted.
    “I doubt it. I saw something last night that you’ll have to see for yourself.” He glanced out the window toward the sky. “We need to use caution.”
    “Then let’s set up, and figure out how to take them down,” Schimmel said, opening the door to help with the RPV deployment.
    “We’ve got some time here, why don’t you do a few Z’s?” DeMarko suggested.
    “We’ll get some baseline work done,” Watkins agreed. “If you’re right about this, then we’ll need you to be fully loaded before we go in.”
    “Maybe you’ve got a point,” he said. His guts told him they might be right and he might not get another chance for a while. Reclining the seat and shutting his eyes, he was asleep before they got out of his truck.
    ***
     
    Xichang Launch Center, Sichuan Province, China:
     
    General Jiang Xintian stood on the roof of the Launch Control Building watching the crawler edging its way across the ground toward the concrete apron. The stars had retreated in gradual waves, crystals dissolving under the promise of warmer daylight, but this morning the wind was unpleasant and slashing. The familiar smell of damp earth stuck in his nostrils under a painful layer of frost.
    The General was a tall thin man with considerable age showing in his features despite his vigorous lifestyle. He liked to escape to the observation deck and take in the sight of the spaceport, so he climbed the seven floors from his office to the rooftop every morning to watch the sunrise. This morning he stayed longer, watching the Chang Zheng make its way to the pad.
    He leaned against the railing, looking down toward the parking lot. The first busload of staff was just making its way into the lobby. Fifty fresh faces, struggling to meet the morning.
    A blast of frigid air surged up the face of the building, hurling shards of ice crystals like razor blades. He spun back from the edge, and flipping his collar up to protect his neck, darted toward the warm interior of the building.
    He knew his day was about to officially begin, and he needed to be at his desk managing the first of a million tasks. Normally, this close to a launch, he would have been in the city pushing his way through the bureaucratic cacophony, but this mission was the first of the new Forced Reaction Development Experiment modules being shipped to the Amundsen Laboratory.
    This had been his project from the moment of its inception and now that it was approaching first deployment, he could feel the pride that a weapon so advanced that the United States could not rival its power would bring to the PRC. Ultimate technological superiority for his people was almost at hand.
    Because of its importance, the existence of this project had been kept a total secret. He felt personally responsible for watching it until the minute when it made its ascent.
    Tomorrow, if the weather held.
    Brushing the frost off his overcoat he leaned over the stairwell railing. Below him he could hear footsteps clamoring up the steel stairs. “General Jiang, are you up there?” His secretary’s voice echoed up the vertical shaft.
    “I am,” he barked.
    “You have a call from the Intelligence Analysis Division,” she shouted. “Administrator Liu is holding for you.”
    “I am on my