The Captive Missile Chapter 1

The Captive Missile

Chapter 1

<Breaking News, Reporting from Iqaluit in Nunavut in Canada’s arctic, missile testing has been suspended at Northlands Testing Facility today, as the military’s newest missile the “Informant” has been reported missing. General Alphonse Abbott of Canada’s military corps, in charge of the testing in Nunavut has released the following statement:

“At 7 am this morning, at Northlands Missile testing Facility at the northern tip of Baffin Island, a theft has occurred of the “Informant”, the newest and deadliest missile to be manufactured in Canada since the late nineteen sixties. Government authorities in the area and in Ottawa have been alerted to the theft and foreign governments such as the United States, China and Russia have been contacted and are on high alert.

There are no leads to the theft at this time. The Prime Minister is said to be on his way to Iqaluit in Nunavut and is naturally quite concerned over this serious breach of international security…”>

The biting wind caught me by surprise as I pulled the hood up on my parka and stepped out the door of the storage shelter into the bright sunshine. The sun glinting off the snow would have blinded me if not for the protective sunglasses I was wearing.

Justin? A voice called out from around the side of the building. My dark-haired friend Van Gilman came around the side to meet me. Where are we off to?

Michaelson said we’re taking a shipment to Finlay’s Cove. It’s about a two-hour flight. Think you can handle it?

Van snorted. I can ride in the airplane for two hours. What’s the big deal?

No, I it’ll be four hours—with me! Think of the return trip.

Oh, that, he muttered. Yeah, I think I can do it. You’re not really that annoying today.

I grabbed him in a headlock but we were so bundled up in our winter gear that—well—I’ll just say it wasn’t that effective.

Where Van was impulsive and bold, I was quieter. But don’t cross me or I could throw a mean punch. His thick dark hair and brown eyes contrasted to my shorter dark blond hair and blue eyes. Van was an inch shorter than my 6 foot 1 inch, but he packed on more muscle. He was into sports and was leaving his beloved hockey team, the Port Salser Porcupines without their star goalie for a week while we were up here. 

“Here” was the Iqaluit Food Storage Facility, in Iqaluit in the northern Canadian territory of Nunavut. Van and I were volunteering for a week as part of a school course in Social Awareness and Humanitarian Aid. Our duties included delivering groceries and supplies to remote villages on Baffin Island in Nunavut Territory. Van had volunteered the year before and I decided to join him this year. It was late October and already winter was upon us.

I knew it would be cold, but I wasn’t quite prepared for the blinding sun as well. Snowfall had come early this year and the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow.

The temperature had dipped to minus forty Celsius overnight which was a little unusual for this time of year. Hopefully, the truck would start.

Did you plug in the truck last night, I asked Van as we made our way over to the parking lot where all the cube trucks were parked in a neat row. Since we were newbies, this year—well at least I was—we got stuck with the older cube truck. Van opened the doors and jumped in the driver’s side and I took the passenger side.

Yeah, I just unplugged it now, so it should be good. He turned the key and engine roared to life. We drove over to the supply shed, located at the north end of the complex. We backed up to the loading dock parked and went inside.

Antoine Allegro was the Food Storage supervisor. He was a gruff but kindhearted older gentleman in his sixties with a neatly trimmed grey beard and short grey hair. He eyed us as we came into the loading dock. You two are headed to Finlay’s Cove?

Yes Antoine, that’s what Ian told us, Van said. Is the shipment ready?

Of course it’s ready, Mr. Gilman, Antoine said as he turned to go back to where the skids were piled and shrink-wrapped. And I wish you would call me Mr. Allegro. You should respect your elders.

I do, Mr. Allegro, Van said trying not to burst out laughing.

These four here, he went on, motioning the ones at the back of the line.

Why are they at the back, Antoine—er I mean Mr. Allegro, Van said with a grin. He already knew the answer.

Because they were the first ones assembled, Antoine mumbled, bringing a pump truck over to us. You can move all these other ones out and then take your four. You think you can handle that Mr. Gilman?

I sure can! Van said with a chuckle. He grabbed the pump truck and started shifting the skids that were in the way. If Antoine were looking for an argument he wasn’t getting one from us today. He shuffled back to his office and shut the door.

 I went back to the truck to open up the back door. I swept out the back with a cruddy looking broom and by the time I was done, Van was here with the first skid.

You just gotta know how to handle these older geezers, Van said. Trying to tick us off by burying the skids at the back. What did he think we were gonna do? Whine and complain? That would take too long. I want to be gone and back before 6 pm. My shows on and I don’t want to miss it—move your butt, Macdonald, he said as he pulled the heavy skid into the truck. Besides, Natalie’s on this flight.

I helped him position the skids and five minutes later we were loaded. Antoine didn’t come out of his office. We got in the truck and started off.

Now, Van did most of the driving because he worked here last fall. We headed to the Iqaluit Airport, a large yellow building located at the north-western edge of the city. Iqaluit only have around 7000 residents but it was classed as a city. It was the capital city of Nunavut and was once known as Frobisher Bay until the late 80s.

There were no roads outside of town so the villages had to be accessed by plane. The cargo planes were loaded up with supplies and flown out to the remote villages. At least the ones with air strips. Van and I would accompany the pilot, a young woman by the name of Natalie Suqqath, a native of Iqaluit who had just recently returned from a stint at the university in Toronto.

We parked the truck at the cargo loading center and went to look for Natalie. We found her in the main office chatting with the air traffic controllers. Oh Van, Justin, good you’re here, she said when she spotted us. Ready to go?

Yes, we’ve got 4 skids today, Van reported. Finlay’s’ Cove.

Yep, just got the flight plan, she said holding up a folder. Let’s go. Want to be back by 6. My show’s on.

I looked at Van. What show is this?

Archaeology of the North, Van stated. It’s a documentary of archaeologists here and in Yellowknife that have dug up some interesting things. These artifacts were well preserved in the Arctic ice.

You’ve got to be kidding? I said in amazement.

Why’s that, Justin, Natalie said with a grin. You don’t like archaeology? You think it’s boring?

Well, sure, but—no, I don’t think it’s boring.

Van playfully punched my arm. You just don’t think archaeology is cool. Natalie here studied it in university, didn’t you, Nat?

She nodded. Archaeologists are cool, she said as she passed us and headed out to the airfield. We followed.

Half an hour later the cargo hold was stowed with the four skids of supplies and was properly tied. My job—lucky me—was to make sure the loads didn’t come unhitched in mid-flight. Van got to sit up with Natalie in the cockpit.

Sometimes life just wasn’t fair.

We had no trouble with the takeoff and soon were headed to the northern tip of Baffin Island and Finlay’s Cove.

I didn’t know too much about the area, just that outside of Finlay’s Cove was the Northlands Missile Testing Facility or NMTF. It was a new complex, just completed last year. I had heard in the news recently that the government had started testing a new missile, the “Informant”. The government was trying to keep it hush-hush as missile testing was not looked upon too favourably in the area.

I listened to Van chatting with Natalie. He was easygoing and got along with everyone. I usually did too, but Van was more outgoing than I was. He also liked flirting with the girls. He didn’t have a steady girlfriend back home so, more power to him. I, on the other hand had a girlfriend, Melissa.

She and I had met a while back when she was new to my hometown of Port Salser. I showed her to her first class that first day and we struck up a quick friendship and soon we were dating. I missed her now as I sat here alone in the back of a freight plane listening to the drone of the engine, on a routine flight to Finlay’s’ Cove.

<NEWS BULLETIN:

This just in, authorities have just confirmed that the terrorist known as Morban had just claimed responsibility in this morning’s brazen theft of the nuclear missile nicknamed “The Informant” from the Northlands Missile Testing Facility.

 Morban , a known terrorist, is vowing to use the missile on Canadian and American soil if his ransom demand of $1 billion is not met by this time tomorrow morning. Here’s the latest from our correspondent on the ground at the NMTF near Finlay’s Cove, in Nunavut:

“Authorities at the Missile Facility have just received a communication from the known terrorist Morban of his ransom demands. The Prime Minister is starting an investigation into how the missile could have been stolen from a high security area like the NMTF. At the moment it looks like someone who works at the facility may be responsible for allowing Morban access to the missile…back to you…>

The plane lurched as we hit an air pocket. Snow flurries blew across in front of the plane. Van having unsuccessfully attempted to get a date with Natalie was now gripping the dashboard of the plane in terror. He wasn’t the best in turbulence. I on the other hand wasn’t affected so much by it. I got up, checked the straps on the skids and returned to my seat.

We lurched again, and I heard Natalie cry out. Justin, come here! Van called from the cockpit. You gotta see this!

I unstrapped myself as the plane gave another lurch. I flew to the side wall and smacked my arm. I cried out in pain.

Justin, you OK, Van said nervously. He unstrapped himself to come check on me, but Natalie warned him to stay in his seat. Justin, get back to your seat. Look out the side window when you do. Are you OK, though.

I’m—fine I said through gritted teeth. My arm throbbed but I managed to get back to my seat and strap myself in.

I turned my head to look out the window which was just behind me on the left. I couldn’t see anything but blinding snow. Suddenly the flurries lifted and I could make out the ground below. We weren’t flying that high.

Throbbing arm forgotten, my heart skipped a beat when it registered what I was seeing.

Down on the ground, contrasted to the white snow was a large snow mobile bounding recklessly over the snow? It wasn’t the snow mobile that caught my attention.

It was the cargo attached to the snowmobile on a flatbed trailer. Now I wasn’t an expert in military equipment but I had no trouble identifying what I was seeing.

The vehicle was pulling a nuclear missile!