Atlantis' Crew Cabin Access Arm Merritt Island, Florida
"Kilmer, Mo and Mia are back on land and Brilnikov is in custody. The bomb squad disabled a bomb on Kashkov."
Kilmer nodded with grim assent as he took the proffered gas mask from a technician. After donning the mask, he raced across the access arm, Frankie and several NASA technicians following closely behind. "Okay, Anders, what are we looking for?"
"The Phosgene must be stored in a cool environment until it's released. It will most likely be in liquid form. At room temperature it will rapidly become a gas which can be either colorless or a pale yellow and it's heavier than air so it will drop immediately to low land levels."
"OK, Mission Control said he had stopped by the head, so the CG is likely in or around that area. Are there any panels that could easily be removed?"
"Not easily," answered one of the techs, "but it could be done. My guess is he would hide it in one of the storage containers in the head. No one would be doing any last minute checks in that area and a loose panel would definitely catch someone's eye."
Kilmer nodded. "Alright then, lead the way."
The agents and technicians worked their way down the decks toward the head, but once there, they realized that the additional hands weren't an asset. The head could fit one person easily, two if they stood back-to-back. Frankie glanced toward Kilmer, who read the question in her eyes. With a gallant gesture, he said, "Ladies first."
She shook her head at his mischievous smile and squeezed in on one side of the toilet. A moment later she felt the room shrink as he joined her. Frankie pawed through the plastic storage containers, removing each one and placing it along the ledge. After several minutes of concerted searching, Kilmer cursed.
"Looks like the AQ wanted to make sure that even if their Chechen brethren were caught, they could still claim a victory."
Frankie turned, eyes widening at the sight of the LED screen counting down from eight minutes. Strapped to it was a clear jar of a pale liquid.
"Jelani, get the bomb squad up here ASAP. We've got the biotoxin, but it has its own detonator."
"On their way, Kilmer.
"Anders," Frankie asked as she followed Kilmer out of the head, "are there any contingencies should exposure occur?"
"Get out of the area immediately and get rid of any contaminated clothing. If the toxin has gotten on your skin, wash yourself thoroughly with soap and water then haul ass to the base doctor."
The thundering footsteps of the bomb squad echoed on the floorboards growing louder as they neared the head. Kilmer glanced at the time. Five minutes and counting. Stepping aside, he gave the team ample room to work. The first member of the four-man team squeezed into the room and gingerly pulled the wires away from the detonators. With a quick snip, the detonator froze with 3:59 left to go.
The commander of the team nodded to Kilmer and Frankie. "We've got it."
"Anders, the Phosgene has been isolated and the detonator deactivated. Have Hazmat on site to take custody of the canister."
Some three hours later, Frankie stood in another room, this one quite a bit larger than the bathroom on the space shuttle and stared across a table at Dimitri Kashkov. "You are a scientist. You had important work to do on this mission. Why did you destroy your chance to perhaps make great scientific discoveries?"
"Do you think we wanted this?" he asked spreading his cuffed hands as far as the chains would allow them to move. "Our fathers and brothers even sisters have had to resort to killing themselves in order to achieve what should have been granted decades ago: our freedom. Russia's boot heel has been lodged at our throats for so long with no outside intervention that we had no choice. How else do we, a small nation in the foothills of the Caucus Mountains, attract the attention of nations such as yours?
"You who find wars with which to distract yourselves. Come to Chechnya, there is no need for you to search for enemies when we have one to offer you! You liberated Kuwait from the shackles of an evil dictator. How are we so different from them? Is not another country terrorizing us for our oil? Why did you help them and not us?"
"The Kuwaitis," Frankie began, steel lacing her words, "never resorted to bombing innocent civilians."
Kashkov smiled. It was not a pleasant sight. "But don't you see? There are no innocents in this war. It is a fight for survival on our own terms. We wish to live as Muslims, to marry and raise our children. Yet, Russia will not let us go." He paused and leveled a considering gaze on her. "Tell me, Agent Kilmer, do you have children?"
"No," she replied with a shake of her head.
"Ah, but you were once a child, yes?" He nodded as if to answer his own question. "And how do children go about getting their parents' attention? By first, tugging on their hands? Then, when the parent ignores them, they might begin to cry. And if the parent still ignores them, then they act out, throwing toys and the like." He paused again, considering her reaction or lack thereof. "You see, we are that child desperately trying to bring Russia's attention to us as a people not merely as a pipeline for oil. Yet they do not see."
"How much worse does it have to get?" Frankie asked as she tossed down a series of pictures from the siege at the movie theater in Russia. "How much further do you have to go?" she continued as several pictures of the recent school bombing joined the others. "Sooner or later you will reach a point when all of your 'acting out' as you describe it will gain the type of attention you do not want."
Kashkov sighed. "Perhaps we have already reached that point. After two wars and thousands of deaths, you would think that one side would relent, wouldn't you? Unfortunately, we Chechens will not give up until we get what we want, until we are free."
...to be continued...