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“Guessing we can’t just find the power source and shut it down that way?” It was probably a ridiculous shot in the dark, but I had to try. Direct targeted hits were easier for me to work with than theory.
“The whole ‘just unplug it’ concept,” she said with air quotes, pulling them off as adorable and not condescending, “would be great if you can locate the source, and shut it down without causing a Chernobyl-style disaster.” Not taking a breath, she kept going, talking with her hands, her entire body animated and involved. “The only way to sustain fusion is to have tremendous amounts of pressure and temperatures. If you release the pressure on a plasma-fuel mix, you stop the fusion reactor from operating.”
This was a little over my head, but I trusted her to know her stuff. Most sought-after mind in science, after all. “Sounds like I could only buy us time that way, until someone flips the pressure back on once I exfil and they go for round two in an attempt to turn the weapon on a target.” I finally put together her words, getting two and two to equal four. “And obviously blowing up a nuclear reactor would have devastating consequences across the board.”
“Yeah, and although you could use magnetics or maybe even liquid nitrogen to rapidly change the pressure and decrease the temperature on-site, there will be nothing to stop them from rebooting and starting all over again.”
“And that’s where you and your genius brain come in. Why you want to partner with cyber on this,” I said, still doing my best to follow along with how fast her mind worked.
“Right, so we need our own type of defense system in place to intercept and lock on the target once it’s fired. To block it like a shield.” She hopped to her feet, pacing the length of the bed in thought. “We could divert the electromagnetic pulse into space.” Facing me, she dragged her hands through her long blonde hair. “I mean, we may accidentally knock a satellite out of orbit, but that’d be a best-worst-case scenario.”
I stood along with her, holding on to her arms, feeling hopeful, and it was a damn good feeling.
“The only type of electromagnetic pulse I couldn’t stop is if someone actually set off a nuke in space, and that’d have the same effect as an EMP weapon.”
Like we needed another reason to keep nuclear weapons from terrorists. Thank God the EMP weapon only required a nuclear reactor to set it off but wasn’t nuclear itself.
I stared at this woman, blinking in shock at how easy she made all of this sound.
She reached between us, tapping her fingers against her lips, her mind clearly still working overtime. Solution-oriented. If our kiss helped spring these ideas to life, what would sex do? Fucking A, the fact my brain went there . . .
“And you can really do this?”
“I obviously can’t construct and build a laser myself, and we’ll need several of them. Plus, we’re probably short on time. The U.S. military can reconfigure some of their existing laser missile defense systems based on the formula and code we come up with here, though.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closing as she continued, “With the size of our country, we’ll need three locations. Both coasts and somewhere central. Between those three ranges, the lasers can cover enough territory to stop a pulse, or even a solar flare, from destroying any mainland city. We’ll need to create something smaller and more remote for Hawaii and Alaska.” She was speaking so fast I was shocked that in my current state I could keep up with her beautiful mind.
“If our insiders have connections at the Pentagon, that could be problematic. We can’t tip off whoever’s behind this. They’ll likely move up their planned attack,” I said, remembering the Craig Paulsen problem all over again. “We need to get Craig and Jared behind locked doors until we can determine which one of them is behind betraying our country.”
I let go of her and reached into my pocket for my phone. I texted Secretary Chandler to call me back on a secure line, no time to waste, and the moment the call connected, I laid out the plan.
“Yeah, got it. Let me know when you have them in your custody,” I said at the end of our quick but productive call. Turning back to Diana, I told her, “He’s going to fill in the President, but he believes he’ll be on board.” And why wouldn’t he be? Diana was offering to save the country, and by extension, save the world.
“How would someone know I could do this, though?” She dropped her forehead to her palm, applying pressure there in small circles. “I didn’t even know I could do this.”
“It must be someone who’s been watching you for a long time. Knows you well. What you’re capable of.”
“Great, a stalker.” She lowered her hand to cover her mouth, her words mumbled as she rushed out, “Not like you, I mean.”
With no energy to remind her that term still fit me to a T, I instead reminded her, “Pierce Quaid would be pretty familiar with your capabilities.”
“Right, I nearly forgot he may also be a traitor. I mean, we’re assuming he’s guilty because of his dog, which wouldn’t exactly win over a jury as the nail in the coffin.” The corner of her lip hitched, and I leaned in, kissing the edge of her mouth.
“What was that for?”
“For being you.” Realizing I was seconds away from falling victim to the need to kiss or touch her more, I stepped away and crossed my arms. “I should bind my wrists when we share a room if we ever want to get any work done.”
She smiled. “Even then, you’d surely Houdini your way out of any obstacle to get to me.”
“You better believe it.” I swallowed, trying to get back to the mission, but it was hard to do when she looked like a ray of fucking sunshine after devising a plan to save the country.
She blinked a few times, that familiar pink she often wore around me returning to her cheeks. “The news. Oh jeez, we got distracted. What updates do you have for me?”
“You kind of stole my thunder by coming up with a plan to save us all.” I smirked, locking eyes with her.
“Ah, maybe a little.” She shrugged, and the little movement drew my eyes toward her breasts. More specifically to the fact she’d yet to cover her nipples poking through her tank top.
“Sweatshirt,” I damn near begged. “Then we talk.”
“So bossy.” She rolled her eyes in a playful way but did as I asked.
