They’d spent yesterday afternoon, after their arrival, speeding around the base with the commandant, a Marine general, in tow. General Norman had made it clear he’d been told to ask no questions, believe anything Schultz told him, and give them all the help he could.
By the time they’d finished the tour, transport aircraft had already started arriving. Schultz, as part of the security program, had ordered that as much of the supplies and as many people as possible be brought in by air.
General Norman had been more than true to his orders. Squads of Marines had appeared to unload transports. Armed patrols suddenly beefed up the perimeter. Teams of engineers had helped Public Works open and ready the buildings for use. A Marine Corps air-control unit had been flown in to handle the extra traffic, and a field kitchen had turned out their first dinner in their new home.
Besides the Marines, a gaggle of Navy officers had met the plane. During the flight to Miramar, Ray had heard the admiral dickering with his newly promoted replacement over how many of his staff could come with him and who had to stay. NAVAIR was located in nearby Coronado, so they’d all been able to get to Miramar in time to meet the plane. They would form the nucleus of the Space Forces administrative staff.
Ray had gone to sleep in a bare barracks room feeling almost optimistic.
October 3
The next morning, their first full day at Space HQ, had taught Ray more about engineering, and people, than he’d thought there was to learn.
Breakfast at 0530 had been a good start, but quickly interrupted. He and Schultz had been planning out the day when a civilian in an expensive suit and tie had hurried into the conference room being used as a mess hall. Escorted by an armed Marine, the middle-aged man had spotted the admiral and almost rushed to the table. Schultz saw him coming and stood.
The civilian had been looking for him. “Admiral Schultz? I’m Hugh Dawson, head of VentureStar Development.” Dawson was tall, in his midfifties, and well built. Ray wondered if he’d played football in college.
Schultz smiled broadly and extended his hand. “Mr. Dawson. Please sit down and join us. We’ll be working closely …”
Dawson did not sit down. “I don’t know what we’ll be working on,” he replied, a little impatiently. “Yesterday afternoon my security director suddenly calls me in and briefs me into a new secret program. Then I get orders from the head of Lockheed Martin, Mr. Peter Markwith himself, to prepare VentureStar for immediate shipment here. Trash the rest of the test program, never mind the next set of modifications, just trundle her on up here for God knows what.”
Schultz looked concerned, and asked, “Didn’t you get the file on Defender?”
The executive was still standing. “I spent most of last night reading it. That has to be the worst cover story I’ve ever seen. Arming VentureStar? In two months? I came up here this morning to find out what’s really going on.”
Schultz said calmly, “That’s not a cover story.”
Dawson sat down.
The admiral motioned to one of the mess cooks. “Bring Mr. Dawson some coffee.” He sat down facing the civilian. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Ray McConnell, Technical Director for the project, and for the U.S. Space Forces. He designed Defender.”
Dawson automatically took McConnell’s hand, but was still reacting to Schultz’s words. “There’s a U.S. Space Force?”
Schultz smiled proudly. “As of yesterday morning there was, and you and VentureStar are going to be a big part of it. Did you start the preparations to move her?”
Dawson nodded, replying automatically. “Yes, we’ve started. You don’t argue with Peter Markwith. They’re finishing up some work on the flight-control systems, but that will be done by the time the carrier plane arrives. Figure two days to make her safe and preflight the carrier, and a day to mate the two.” He paused, suddenly.
“Markwith said you paid four billion for the VentureStar program. The whole thing. All of a sudden, we’re a DoD program.”
Ray looked over at Schultz, waiting for him to respond, but the admiral said nothing. In fact, he was looking sideways at McConnell. All right, then.
“Mr. Dawson, the design is sound,” Ray ventured. “The Joint Chiefs, even the President have signed off on this. I know it can work.”
Dawson sat, impassive. He wasn’t convinced.
Damn it. McConnell realized he knew nothing about this man. What does he care about? There has to be one thing.
He tried again. “The Chinese are shooting down our GPS satellites, Mr. Dawson. VentureStar can stop that. She’s the only platform with the space and payload to carry all the equipment we need. In seventy days we’ll have her flying, doing things nobody ever imagined her able to do, and you’ll be the one making the changes. She’ll still be your project.”
Dawson responded, “But the time! We can’t possibly do it.”
“We can if we decide we can, Hugh.” McConnell was getting motivated himself. “No papers, no bureaucracy, no congressional briefings. Just results.”
“Some of that paper is necessary,” Dawson reminded him. “They laid out the P-51 on the floor of a barn, but that doesn’t work anymore.”
“We’ll keep some, of course, but how much of that paper is needed to do the work? A lot just fills the government in on how you’re doing, or tells the boss what he needs to know. A lot of it takes the place of good supervision. I’m not here to document a failure.”
Ray pressed his point. “The rules will be different here. We’re going to keep this group small. And I’m the government, as far as Defender goes. You won’t have to write a memo to me because I’ll be there on the floor with you.”
Dawson sat, considering for a moment. “Marilyn’s going to think I’ve taken up with another woman,” he observed, smiling. “What about security?” Dawson asked. “Our PR people will want to know …”
Ray smiled. One down.
By late afternoon, enough people had arrived and been settled in so that they could start preparations to receive the vehicle. Or rather, preparing to prepare.
One of the hangars was big enough, but only with extensive modifications. A launchpad would have to be built next to it. A new computer hub, independent from the net, needed to be established, and some of the buildings were so old they weren’t even wired for a network. They had to decide where to put launch control. Housing needed to be expanded. And the galley arrangements. And what about recreation?
Ray’s to do list made him wish for a larger data pad. He had one idea and ran it past Schultz. “I love it,” the admiral said. “I’ll have one of my staff get right on it.”
At Ray’s suggestion, the evening meal was held outside. Even in the fall, San Diego’s weather was excellent, and the Marine Corps cooks fixed an impromptu barbecue.
It was an important occasion. Almost everyone was a stranger to each other, and combined with the uncertainty of the times and the mission, he’d felt the stress level ramp up all day. McConnell realized he needed to get these people together, make them one team, with one mission. Schultz had approved of this idea as well.
Ray waited just long enough for everyone to be served. It was nothing special, just burgers and fried potatoes and greens and soft drinks. Ray was too nervous to eat himself. He’d tried to eat something, at Schultz’s urging, but the first two bites started circling each other in his stomach, like angry roosters squaring off.
The time had finally come, though, and Ray had climbed up on an improvised stage. The portable amplifier gave its customary squeal as he adjusted the volume, and suddenly everyone’s eyes were on him.
“Welcome to Space Force HQ.” He paused for a moment, and heard a few snickers, mostly from the civilians. He smiled broadly, so he could be seen in the back, “I like the sound of it. The good news is, you are all founding members of America’s newest and most modern military service.”
He made the smile go away. “The bad news is, we’re at war. The Chinese are killing our satellites, denying
us the use of space, for both military and civilian use. Defender is going to regain control of space for us, for our use.
“You all understand the danger we face. They aren’t on our shores, or bombing our cities, but they are overhead. And we know about the high ground.
“I’m expecting each of you, once you’re settled, to take your job and run with it. More than that, though, if you see something that needs doing, don’t wait for someone else to notice.
“There are going to be a lot more people coming in over the next few weeks. By the time the last of them arrives, you’ll be the old hands, and I want you to tell them what I’m telling you now.
“You’ll also wish we were twice as many. It’s not for lack of resources. We’ve got a blank check from the President himself for anything or anyone we need. You’re here because you’re some of the best. I could have asked for more, but I didn’t. A small organization thinks fast and can change fast.
“Some of you may think that this is an impossible task, or that even if it’s possible, we don’t have enough time to do it. It’s just a matter of adjusting your thinking. The question to ask is not, ‘Can this be done in time?’ but ‘What needs to be done to finish it in time?’”
Ray got down quickly, to gratifying applause. Schultz nodded approvingly, and Ray noticed someone standing next to him, still holding an overnight bag. Suddenly recognizing him as Barnes, Ray hurried over.
The captain took his hand, and was complimentary, although he didn’t smile. “Good speech.” He motioned to the crowd of perhaps fifty, eating and talking. “Did they buy it?”
Ray pointed out a small group of men and women. They sat around a circular table, talking as they ate. Their attention was on a sheet of paper in the center. One would point, or draw, and then someone else would take a turn.
“They’ll never stop working on it,” McConnell replied. “We should probably have a curfew so that we’ll know they’re getting enough sleep.”
“So what do you have for me?” Barnes asked.
“We need someone to survey all the “black” DoD programs to see if there’s any technology that we can use.” Ray said it simply, like he wanted a list of names out of the phone book.
Barnes felt like telling him he was crazy, but only for a second. The Department of Defense ran dozens, possibly scores of “black” programs, not only classified, but also “compartmented.” In other words, you didn’t even know they existed unless you needed to know they existed. Each had its own security program, and it normally took a week or longer to get “briefed” into a program. Biff didn’t think he had that much time.
McConnell was watching him closely. Was this some sort of test? He didn’t think they had time to waste on such things. How to do it quickly?
“We’ll have to go through the head of DoD security,” Barnes suggested. “He’s the only one who can grant me blanket access, and tell everyone to honor it.”
“I’ll call him tomorrow morning,” said Schultz. “You’ll have that clearance by lunchtime, along with Ray and me.”
“We’ll need a secure facility,” Barnes added. High-security information was supposed to be kept in special rooms, electronically shielded, with carefully controlled access.
“We’ll get you a shielded laptop tomorrow as well. That will be our secure facility until Public Works gets a real one set up.”
Coronado Hotel, San Diego, California October 4
The outside line rang, and Geoffrey picked up the phone. “Good morning, Coronado Hotel Concierge Desk. Geoffrey Lewis speaking.”
“Mr. Lewis? This is Captain Munson, U.S. Navy. I’m sorry to call you at work, but we couldn’t reach you before you left your home.”
“The Navy?” Geoffrey was a little confused. He’d served in the Navy ten years ago, as a storekeeper. That was before he’d gotten his hotel management degree, before he started work here.
“I’ll be brief, Mr. Lewis. I need someone to take care of a large group of people. They’re very busy. You and a small staff will see to their needs while they work on other matters.”
“Captain Munson, I’m not sure I understand. I’m quite happy …”
Munson named a figure over twice what Geoffrey made as a junior concierge. Lewis wasn’t sure the senior concierge made that much.
“The job will last at least three months. You’ll work hard for that money, and you’ll have to live on site.”
“And where is that site, exactly?” Geoffrey asked. The mystery of it was intriguing.
“Not too far,” answered Munson carefully. “Your quarters will be quite comfortable. What’s your decision?”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that,” replied Munson. “We’re a little pressed for time.”
“The money’s good,” Lewis admitted. “But you don’t know enough about me.”
“We know quite a bit about you, Mr. Lewis. Please, if you don’t want the job, I have other calls to make.”
Geoffrey looked at the first thing on his list. Theater tickets for a couple from Kansas. Whoopie.
Space Forces Headquarters October 5
Ray woke up thinking about housing. He’d gone to bed worrying about it, and was still thinking about it this morning. He was supposed to be building Defender, and instead he had to find places for people to live. But the first contingent of the Lockheed Skunk Works people would arrive from Palmdale this afternoon.
He hurried from the barracks past the office complex to the mess hall. None of the buildings he passed had originally served that purpose, but those were their present functions. The compound was already bustling, with people hurrying about on different errands. He could hear the sound of power tools from inside one empty building.
Coffee and a bagel were all he usually had for breakfast, and he could have had that at his desk, but people were already expecting him to put in an appearance in the morning, to be available. It was a tradition he’d decided to encourage.
He was taking his first bite when Biff Barnes walked in the door. Ray still felt uneasy about Barnes, guilty about embarrassing him at the JCS meeting. Was that why he’d picked him to work on Defender? But his qualifications made him a natural.
Barnes walked over to the table, and Ray motioned for the officer to join him. Ray’s eyes were automatically drawn to Biff’s astronaut wings.
“When were you in the astronaut program?” Ray asked. He tried not to sound like some autograph seeker.
“From ’05 to ’08,” Barnes replied casually. “I flew one mission, then missed another because of mission change. I’d only missed one tour with the regular Air Force, so I decided to get back to real flying.” His voice hardened a little. “And now this. I was supposed to get major and an Ops Officer billet after my tour in the program office. God knows what’s happened to that.”
Ray hadn’t expected to hear that Barnes had voluntarily left the astronaut program. McConnell had worked as hard as he could for as long as he could remember to become an astronaut. And Barnes had walked away from it?
Almost without thinking, McConnell asked, “It wasn’t medical?” His tone was incredulous.
“No,” replied Barnes with a little irritation. “People do leave the program voluntarily. Proficiency time on T-38s is not the same as helping run a squadron or flying a fighter.”
It was clear Barnes didn’t think of his time as an astronaut fondly. And he was not happy with his assignment here. He liked to fly.
Ray offered, “I’m sorry I disrupted your tour, but I need pilots to help build Defender. In addition to all your other skills, you’re a reality check on what’s going on around here.”
Barnes smiled, the first time Ray had seen the pilot pleased. “I think you’ll need a bigger dose of reality than I can provide.”
McConnell automatically smiled back. “Look, I’m sorry I upstaged you at that meeting. We had no idea the Air Force was going to back Defender.”
“Yeah. I was the guy who suggested it t
o the brass.” Biff looked like he was regretting the idea.
“And thanks for that support. I’m sorry I can’t promise to make it up to you.”
“Stop apologizing,” Biff ordered. “I’m here, and I’ll help you build her.”
Ray nodded silently. It wasn’t a ringing commitment, but he felt the air was clear.
Biff looked around, making sure there were no eavesdroppers, then turned on his data pad and passed it to McConnell. “Here’s the review of those classified programs you asked for. It took me most of the night, but it was so interesting I didn’t want to stop.”
McConnell took the pad, handling it carefully. As he studied the long list, his eyes widened. “I had no idea …”
“Neither did I. After this is all over, we’ll both have to burn our brains. The point is, there are some programs here that we might be able to use. I need a secure facility to work in, to store stuff.”
Ray grimaced. “The engineers are working on beefing up the handling crane. Without that, we can’t lift the VentureStar off her carrier. And after that they have to start work on the pad.”
“Can we get more engineers?”
McConnell shook his head. “Not quickly. We’re already using all the ones available on the West Coast. We’ll have more in a week.” He paused, considering. “Where are the programs you’re interested in located?”
Biff saw where he was going. “They’re spread all over the map, but they all have offices in D.C.” He paused. “I leave right away, right?”
“You can take the C-20,” Ray told him. “Hell, you can fly the C-20. We’ll have something with metal walls set up by the time you get back.”
Barnes face suddenly brightened. “Ray, the C-20 has metal walls.”
McConnell smiled, nodding. “We’ll need to post a guard, but Marines like guarding things. It lets them carry guns. Go get it set up.”
Biff nodded and left quickly, almost running. Someone else was waiting.
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