The Boy Scout
Copyright© 2024 by Rottweiler
Prologue
World War Three, like its predecessors, was sparked within a 950-kilometer radius. Each was ignited by an event that tipped the scales of an already precarious socio-political landscape. June 28th, 1914, Sarajevo, Bosnia—Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, and on September 1st, 1939, Germany invaded Poland. While geographically significant for its proximity—the spark that ignited WWIII in Istanbul, Turkey—originated 20,000 miles above. It also differed in that the United States had been sheltered from direct conflict during the previous two wars.
18 SEP 2026 – 0200 HRS ZULU 24,000 MILES OVER THE MEDITERRANEAN
The Russians called it ‘Paladin’ in their Cyrillic vernacular; the Israelis, ‘David.’ Michael Corwin, Senior Analyst with NSA, called it something far less flattering. He uttered a blistering string of invectives and smacked his hand on the console before him. The two techies on either side of him jumped from his outburst.
“Goddamn it!” he raged, throwing his empty cup across the room toward the wall-sized display that showed him the current trajectory, altitude, and general energy signature of over 2,000 satellites that currently orbited the earth. “Somebody, please tell me what the fuck just happened to MEO489?” The abbreviation was Medium Earth Orbit, and 489 was Paladin. They had tracked the Iranian-built satellite since it was launched from the Baikonur Cosmodrome in Kazakhstan five weeks ago. Three times since the 4-ton monster was placed in MEO, it had ‘wobbled’ in its trajectory and altitude, causing the NSA folks to shoot Pepto Bismol, like fireball whiskey. They always got nervous about satellites with radiation signatures consistent with U-235 core nuclear reactors. Despite the best efforts of the greatest spook force in the world, that was about all they knew of the device.
“Target has plunged 1500 miles and diverted north by northeast, bearing zero three two degrees. Course and altitude appear erratic and uncontrolled,” Techie #1 said from his left. “Cause of anomaly unknown, sir.”
“Fuck!” Corwin yelled. “Is it coming down?”
“We will know definitively in ten more seconds,” Techie #2 replied calmly. Eight seconds later, he grunted. “Looks like Ahmed is trying to regain control. That was a rocket flare.”
“Altitude has stabilized for the moment,” Techie #1 confirmed. “But its orbital trajectory is anomalous.”
Fucking ragheads! Michael patted his breast pocket. If he had found a pack of cigarettes, he would’ve pulled one out and lit it despite the rigid policies against it in the SATSERV Center. Instead, he found another cinnamon toothpick. “Are they trying to return it to MEO?”
“Negative, sir. I think they have their hands full just trying to keep it up at the moment.”
“Just cleared Libya. Present trajectory and speed will put it over Greece in 5 mikes.”
“What the motherfucking hell is it?” he cursed for the hundredth time.
“Bet my bottom dollar it’s a TED emitter*,” Techie #2 muttered. (*transient electromagnetic disturbance).
“We would have detected the magnetic signature if it was an EMP,” Techie #1 argued.
“Only if they tested it,” his counterpart refuted.
The toothpick quickly became pulp as he chewed the stick furiously. They watched as the blip held a steady trajectory across the Mediterranean Sea.
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