Combat

by Stephen Coonts

  Admiral Kramer quickly asked, “Should Defender even be made public? With enough warning, the Chinese might be able to take some sort of countermeasure.”

  Kastner considered only a moment before answering. “All right, my recommendation will be that Defender remain secret until after its first use.”

  General Warner announced, “I’ll have my people look for a suitable development site immediately. With all the Air Force bases we’ve closed …”

  “Your people aren’t the only ones with runways, General. This is a Navy program. Mr. McConnell is a Navy employee.”

  “And that’s why he put his design on the Internet, because of the tremendous Navy support he was receiving.” Warner fixed his gaze on Kramer, almost challenging him to interrupt. “It was my understanding that he offered this design to the DoD as a private citizen. Certainly the Air Force is the best service to manage an aerospace-warfare design. We’ll welcome Navy participation, of course.”

  “The Navy has just as much technological expertise as the Air Force. And more in some of the most critical areas …”

  Ray understood what was going on even as it horrified him. Defender would mean a new mission, and if it worked, a lot of publicity. That mattered in these lean times, for money, for recruiting, maybe for the future in ways they couldn’t guess. But now they were arguing over the prize like children.

  “The Army’s experience with ballistic-missile defense means we should be able to contribute as well.” General Forest’s tone wasn’t pleading, but his argument almost was.

  Kastner spoke forcefully. “We will meet again at 0800 hours tomorrow morning. Every service will prepare a summary of the assets it can contribute, and any justification it might feel for wanting to manage the project.”

  Oh, boy, thought McConnell. It’s going to be a long night.

  INN Early News, London October 1

  Trevor West stood outside Whitehall while morning traffic crept past him. His overcoat and umbrella protected him against a rainy London day, but the wind fought his words. He spoke up, and held the microphone close.

  “After an emergency meeting of Parliament this morning, in which the Prime Minister spoke on the Chinese antisatellite attacks, the British government has officially condemned the Chinese and demanded that they stop. The Official Note, which was given to the Chinese ambassador here approximately half an hour ago, protests not only the attacks themselves but the ‘militarization of space.’

  “The Chinese ambassador received the Note without comment.

  “The American ambassador, provided with a copy of the Note, welcomed the British support and stated that the United States was doing everything in its power to defend its property.

  “Ministry of Defense sources are unsure what the Americans plan to do about the Chinese attacks. They believe a direct attack on the launcher in southern China would be difficult, and the GPS satellites themselves are defenseless.

  “One source speculated that the Americans may try to threaten Chinese interests elsewhere in Asia, pressuring them into stopping their attacks. They say they’ve even seen some signs that this may already be occurring. Of course, military pressure risks a wider conflict—a general war between the United States and China.

  “MoD officials refused to speculate what Britain’s position would be in such a case.”

  Office of the Chief Of Staff of the Air Force. The Pentagon, October 1

  Biff Barnes sat in a conference room with half a dozen other officers. Printouts and data pads covered the table, mixed with a litter of coffee cups, Chinese food from last night, and doughnut boxes from this morning.

  The past twenty-four hours had been a blur to the captain. First the flurry of preparing to brief the Chief of Staff, then the JCS meeting. Barnes considered himself a good pilot, but a minor cog in a much greater machine. Suddenly he’d been asked to do new and challenging things, all at breakneck speed. And those things might change the Air Force. A corner of his mind also asked if this was going to help or hurt his chances for major.

  As they had left the meeting yesterday, General Ames had said, “You did a good job on your presentation, Clarence.”

  Barnes, already in a foul mood, interrupted. “Please, sir, just ‘Biff.’” Why was the general getting on a first-name basis?

  Ames smiled. “Fine, Biff. Who knew they would back Defender as well? You did fine.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Biff was unsure where this was going, but the back of his neck was starting to tingle.

  “I need someone to put that presentation together, Biff. I’ll give you as many of the staff as you need, and you can set up in my conference room. We’ve got until 0800 to come up with the arguments that will sell General Kastner on the Air Force owning Defender.”

  “Maybe you should get a lawyer,” Biff suggested. He was half-serious.

  “No, I want a pilot, and you’re the only one in sight who’s been an astronaut.”

  By now they’d reached Ames’s office, but Biff didn’t respond immediately. Finally, the general asked him flatly, “Do you want it?”

  Biff knew he could say no if he wanted to. He believed Ames was a fair enough officer not to hold it against him. But Barnes was still mad at the Navy, and McConnell in particular. “Yes, sir. It’s in the bag.” He grinned, a fighter-pilot grin.

  Now, the summary was almost ready, deceptively small for all the effort that had gone into it. Barnes was staring at the file’s icon, wondering what he’d missed, when General Ames hurried into the room. He’d checked on their progress several times during the night, and Biff started to report when Ames cut him off.

  “Turn on the news,” Ames ordered a lieutenant at the far end of the room. The officer looked for the remote and grabbed it, then fumbled for the power control. “ … no response to the Chinese demands yet. The spokesman only repeated demands by U.S. government that the Chinese stop their attacks.”

  The INN defense reporter, Mark Markin, stood in front of a sign that read, U.S. DEPARTMENT OF STATE.

  “To repeat, the Chinese have now stated what their price is for stopping their attacks on the NAVSTAR GPS satellites. The U.S. must reduce its forces in the region below precrisis levels, especially in Korea and Japan. According to the statement this is ‘to permanently remove the threat of U.S. aggression against China.’ If the U.S. does so, the Chinese promise to cease their attacks. The ambassador also hinted that they might restart the stalled talks on human rights, piracy, and other long-standing disputes.”

  Ames said, “That’s enough,” and the lieutenant turned it off.

  The general looked at Barnes. “The answer’s ‘Hell, no,’ of course, but you’ve gotta love the way they’re taking it to the media. And some of the reporters aren’t helping the situation. ‘Think about all those poor commuters without their GPS.’” Ames sounded disgusted.

  Biff announced, “We’re ready. Let’s clean up and go get us a program.”

  National Military Command Center, The Pentagon October 1

  Ray McConnell had gotten about three hours of jet-lagged sleep last night, and that only because his eyes wouldn’t focus on the screen any longer. He’d worked like a fiend, trying to finish Defender in one night while the CNO and his staff tried to figure out a way to keep her a Navy project.

  He realized he should be on cloud nine right now. Not only was Defender going to be built, but the services were fighting over who would run it! Maybe it was fatigue, or the idea of the Air Force taking it away from him, but he wasn’t even feeling optimistic.

  Schultz had gotten no sleep, and looked it, but they’d all been energized in the morning by the Chinese ultimatum. Anger could substitute for sleep, for a little while anyway.

  A group only slightly smaller than yesterday’s waited for the Chairman’s arrival. He arrived within seconds of eight o’clock, but followed by the Secretary of Defense. Both were hurrying, and the Secretary reached the podium before everyone had even finished standing.

 
Secretary of Defense Everett Peck was a political appointee, with little experience in the government. The balding, professorial lawyer had served as campaign manager for the President’s election two years ago. He’d stayed out of trouble by letting the DoD alone while he dealt with Congress.

  He motioned everyone back down, saying, “Seats, please, everyone,” and then waited for half a moment while General Kastner took his chair.

  The Secretary spoke, sounding rushed. “The Chairman and I have just come from a meeting with the President. This follows another meeting last night when General Kastner briefed us on Defender.”

  He paused, and tried to look sympathetic. “I understand the purpose of this meeting was to choose a service to run the Defender program, but that decision has been taken out of the Chairman’s hands.”

  What? McConnell looked at the admirals, who looked as puzzled as he felt. In fact, everyone was exchanging glances. Secretary Peck was carefully reading from his data pad.

  “The President has decided to create a new service to manage this new military resource. It will be structured similarly to the Special Operations Force, with assets and personnel seconded to it from the other services on an as-needed basis.”

  Peck didn’t wait for that to sink in, but continued reading. “This service will be known as the Space Force and will be headed by Admiral Schultz.” McConnell looked at Admiral Schultz, who looked thunderstruck.

  The Secretary looked at Admiral Schultz, who was slowly recovering from the surprise announcement. “Your title would be ‘Head of U.S. Space Forces.’ You would retain your current rank. Do you accept?”

  Just like that. Sitting next to Schultz, Ray heard the admiral mutter, “Ho boy,” then stand. “I accept, sir.”

  “Good. Admiral, you will notify your deputy at NAVAIR to take over your duties immediately. You will no longer report to the CNO, but to the Chairman on administrative matters. You will report to me regarding operational matters. You can establish your headquarters wherever you wish, but I assume you will want to be colocated with the construction effort, wherever that is based.”

  Kramer, suddenly Schultz’s former boss, still looked confused, as did most of the officers in the room. Kastner was smiling, and didn’t seem like someone who’d had a decision taken out of his hands.

  “I won’t congratulate you, Admiral. You’ll come to regret it, I’m sure, but I’m also sure you’ll give it your best effort. And we are desperately in need of that. You have Presidential authority to call on any resources of the Department of Defense to get Defender built and stop the Chinese.”

  Peck glanced at his pad again, but didn’t read verbatim. “Now for the bad news. Most of you know that the two spare satellites in orbit are also nonfunctional and presumed destroyed.”

  Ray’s heart sank. He hadn’t known that, and had assumed the spares were being kept in reserve.

  “I will also tell you that although contracts have been let for replacement satellites, the President has decided that none be launched until the threat is contained.”

  Reasonable, Ray thought. No sense giving the Chinese another three-hundred million-dollar target to shoot down. It’ll take a long time for those replacements to be built, though.

  Peck continued. “The Chinese appear to be able to launch one vehicle a week. Given the number of satellites destroyed, at that rate the system will be fifty percent destroyed in seventy days. That is how much time we have to build Defender.”

  Suddenly, that three hours of sleep seemed like a lot.

  Four

  Skunk Works

  Andrews Air Force Base, Waghington, D.C. October 1

  One of Admiral Schultz’s first requisitions had been an Air Force C-20F transport plane. The militarized Gulfstream executive jet was equipped for “special missions,” which meant transporting high-ranking officers and government officials. It was loaded with communications equipment.

  As the plane taxied for takeoff, Ray McConnell listened to Admiral Schultz as he argued with the Office of Personnel Management. Technically, as a civil servant, Ray worked for them.

  “Of course I understand that you’d want to verify such an unusual order,” he said calmly, almost pleasantly. “It’s now been verified. And I need you to process it immediately. I know you’ve spoken to your director.” His voice hardened a little. “I’m sure I won’t have to speak to the director as well.”

  Schultz smiled, listening. “Certainly. There will be other personnel requests coming though this same channel, possibly quite a few. I’m certain you’ll be able to deal with them all as swiftly as this one.”

  He turned off the handset and turned to Ray. “Congratulations. Say good-bye to Ray McConnell, SPAWAR engineer, and hello to Ray McConnell, Technical Director, U.S. Space Force.”

  Automatically, Ray protested. “I’m not senior enough …”

  The admiral cut him off. “You’re as senior as you need to be. You’re now an SES Step 3, according to OPM.” Schultz saw Ray’s stunned look and smiled. “It’s not about the money. You’re going to be doing the work of a technical director, and you’ll need the horsepower. If there was ever a test of the Peter Principle, this will be it.”

  Schultz leaned forward, and spoke softly and intently. “Listen, Ray, you’re going to have to grow quickly. I gave you this job not because Defender was your idea, but because you had an original idea and put the pieces together to make it happen. Now you’re going to have to do a lot more original thinking. You’re going to build Defender, and set speed records doing it. Don’t worry about bureaucratic limitations. Those are man-made. Our only barrier is the laws of physics, and I want you to bend those if you need to.”

  Schultz leaned even closer. “I’m also going to give you this to think about. This isn’t just an engineering problem. You’re going to deal with people—a lot of them, and you can’t expect them all to automatically commit to Defender the way you have. There’s a transition everyone in charge goes through as they increase in rank, from foot soldier to leader. Foot soldiers only have to know their craft, but leaders have to know their people as well.”

  He straightened up in his chair. “End of lecture. We’re due to land in San Diego in five hours. By then, I’ve got to find us a headquarters and a place to build Defender. Your first job is to set up your construction team. Use names if you can, or describe the skills you need and let the database find them. After that—” He paused. “Well, I’ll let you figure out what to do next.”

  Ray thought of plenty of things to do next. During the flight, Ray found himself searching thousands of personnel records, balancing the time it took to review the information with the need to fill dozens of billets. Taking a page from Admiral Schultz, he was careful to take people from all the military services, and to look for key phrases like “team player” as well as professional qualifications. He also included people from NASA, the National Weather Service, and even the FCC.

  Then he went outside the government, requesting people from private industry. The government couldn’t order them to participate, but if he had to, he’d hire them out from under their employers.

  Remembering the JCS meeting and Captain Barnes, he called up the officer’s service record. Eyes widening slightly, he’d added the pilot to his list. He could find a use for a man with his qualifications.

  He added Jenny as well, without looking at her record. Somehow it seemed improper. He knew he needed comm specialists, and that he’d never have to wonder about her commitment to the project.

  He also took five minutes to call Jim Naguchi at home. Ray had decided not to include Jim on the list. Although he was a good friend, he was very much involved with his own work, designing a new naval communications system. Naguchi had never shown up for any of the design sessions, either, although he knew all about Defender. Ray had been a little disappointed, but not everyone was as crazy as he was.

  It was just before seven in California, and McConnell knew the engineer was still getting
ready for work. “Naguchi here.”

  “Jim, I need you to clean out my office for me, and keep the stuff for a day or two. I’ll send someone around to collect it.”

  “What?” Naguchi sounded surprised and worried at the same time. “I knew Carson was pissed. Did he bar you from the building?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that, Jim.” Ray almost laughed. “I can’t tell you everything, but I’m going to be very busy for a while. Remember Defender?”

  “Sure.”

  “Has Jenny been keeping you briefed?” Ray asked.

  “No, I haven’t seen her for a while,” he replied. “We only saw each other a few times. I was too laid-back for her. She’s really competitive, Ray. We weren’t good together.”

  “She’s been over at the house a few times, with the design group,” Ray remarked.

  “Good for you, Ray. Brains and looks. But watch out. She’s a hard charger.”

  Ray grinned. “I will. But get all my stuff from my office, would you please?”

  “Sure, if someone doesn’t think I’m ripping you off.”

  “No, I sent an e-mail to Rudy. He’ll know. And don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Okay, and later you can explain where you are.”

  “I promise.” McConnell hung up and sat, holding the phone. He had a hundred things to think about, but Jenny kept on moving to the top of the pile. Deal with it, Ray.

  He used the phone to send her some flowers, with the message, “You’ve saved Defender.”

  Miramar Marine Corps Air Station, Near San Diego October 2

  Miramar was a big base, over twenty-three thousand acres of desert west of San Diego. During the Cold War it had been a Naval Air Station, home to the famous “Top Gun” fighter school. During the defense build-downs of the 1990s the Navy had moved out and the Marine Corps had moved in. They hadn’t needed the whole base, though, and that made it attractive to the new U.S. Space Force.

  Miramar had several airstrips, and the newly formed Defense Systems Integration Facility took over the most remote, along with a complex of unused buildings nearby. Authorization for the transfer had come in within an hour of Schultz’s request, and they’d diverted the Gulfstream from their intended destination, North Island Naval Air Station, to land at Miramar.