“DRO,” Pryce said, barely able to breath. “How many silos at the Jingxian facility?”

“Twelve, sir!” DRO desk said.

She turned towards Stevens. “Don’t do this, Mr. Secretary.”

“They’re fueling their missiles!” Stevens said.

“Only two.” Pryce said. Her free hand clenched at her side.

“That’s enough!” Stevens shot back. “LA and Seattle! DC and New York!”

Pryce closed her eyes, opened them again, tried to get through to the man. “If they were launching an offensive strike, they’d be hitting us with everything they’ve got, not just two missiles.” She held up her personal phone. “My source inside the PLF…”

“I’ve heard enough about that source!” Stevens said. “Lieutenant! Take that phone away from her!”

Pryce recoiled in surprise, as a stern-faced junior officer turned towards her, hand extended.

Pryce frowned angrily, turned, made eye-contact with one of her Secret Service detail, Larcom, and tossed the phone across the Situation Room in his direction.

The throw was lousy, way off target. Pryce watched in horror as her phone headed towards an analyst’s head.

Larcom took one long step, reached his long arm lightning fast above the analyst’s desk, and plucked the phone out of the air, completely unruffled. He disappeared it inside his suit, then stepped back to his spot by the wall.

Admiral McWilliams spoke behind her. “Secretary Stevens, the National Security Advisor is right. Offensive strategic nuclear doctrine is always for an overwhelming first strike that disables your opponent’s ability to retaliate. That’s not what this looks like.”

“Do you want to bet twenty million American lives on it?” Stevens asked. “Move those damn satellites! Take out those missiles! And prepare to strike to destroy nuclear launch sites.”

In the skies above the western extent of the Pacific Ocean, where it took on new names, where it became the East China Sea, the South China Sea, aircraft received orders, servos engaged, control surfaces moved.

Fighters and bombers launched over the previous hour from the Abraham Lincoln and the James Madison took on offensive missions. In squadrons, both human operated and robotic, they turned, engaged chameleonware, and vectored for their targets.

Targets on the mainland of China.

Nuclear weapon sites.

Sites to be destroyed before the weapons could be launched.

Kilometers below them, a hundred meters below the waves, robotic submarines rose towards their launch depths, and began slowly, silently flooding their vertical launch tubes.

Tubes filled with their own nuclear-tipped missiles.

CHEMICAL WEAPON ATTACK ON INAUGURATION. PRESIDENT EVACUATED.

Breece watched the headlines intently, a smile on his face. Next to him the Nigerian was smiling too. Any minute now the hacker would…

THUMP

He looked up reflexively, towards the sound on the ceiling, saw the Nigerian do the same.

Then he dove for cover, for the gun in his go-bag.

He got his hand on it, and the ceiling exploded in a shower of splinters and debris.