“Although they’re deployed defensively, they will free up Chinese units to move south. More disturbing are the close military ties these represent. Russian official statements have always supported the Chinese in the Vietnam crisis, but they’ve been quiet about their attacks on our GPS satellites. These movements may indicate that they’ve decided to take sides.”
Overton saw their reaction, and mentally throwing the rest of his presentation over his shoulder, just summarized the rest. “A North Korean MiG-29 squadron has moved across the border, while other North Korean units are mobilizing.”
He put a new list on the display. “Indian and Indonesian forces are mobilizing, for reasons not clear right now. There are even signs of activity in Iraq.”
“We’ve only seen the early signs of mobilization, but if they continue, other powers like Japan, South Korea, and Malaysia, will have to follow suit.”
General Kastner looked thinner after almost two months of crisis. He listened to Overton’s brief quietly, then asked, “And the Chinese are still completely ready?”
“All the deployed units are still in place, sir, and they’ve begun mobilizing other units throughout the country. Half their fleet is at sea or ready for immediate steaming. Stockpiles at staging areas near the Vietnamese border have actually increased, and thanks to the Russians, the Chinese will probably be able to protect them better. They could attack the Vietnamese with less than twenty-four hours’ notice.”
“They certainly know about the congressional resolution,” fumed Kastner. Opposition members in the House had started a resolution cutting funding for troops in Japan and Korea. “With Russia and North Korea holding her coat, the Chinese may now feel free to act.”
Kastner looked at the assembled service chiefs. “Are there any other comments?” Only the Marine general spoke. “The Chinese know they have a free hand—against Vietnam, Taiwan, wherever they want.”
The Chairman said, “We all know the status of Defender, and their request for more time. Do we recommend for or against the replacement satellite launch? General Warner?”
The Air Force Chief of Staff controlled the GPS constellation, although it was used by all the services. “I’d hate to waste the last replacement satellite, sir. We’ve contracted for new birds, but it will be a long time before they’re ready. I say hold it until after Defender proves herself.”
“If we go to war, we’ll need any GPS capability we can get.” General Forest, the Army Chief of Staff, wasn’t shy. “Even if we can’t get full coverage, more partial coverage is better than less partial coverage.”
“And when that coverage is lost? We only have the one spare GPS bird,” Kastner reminded him. “Once we lose that satellite, we’re helpless.”
“The Chinese will shoot down one GPS satellite a week whether we launch a new bird or not. This buys us a week. Putting it in my terms, we’re fighting a rearguard action, trading casualties for time.” The soldier looked grim, but determined.
“And we hope for the cavalry,” Kastner concluded. “I’ll make the recommendation.”
Space Force Headquarters, Miramar November 21
Biff Barnes resisted the urge to shout, give orders, or any kind of direction. These people were supposed to do their jobs on their own. He’d be too busy to give orders when the time came.
Jim Scarelli, the designated pilot, was off working on the flight-control systems with the techs. The Lockheed Martin test pilot for VentureStar, there was no question of his ability to fly Defender. That part was easy.
The rest of them struggled to train on half-built systems in a jury-rigged simulator. Six metal chairs mimicked ejection seats, and plywood and plastic boxes pretended to be control consoles. A plywood arch covered them, because many of the controls were positioned on the overhead. Network and power cables were tightly bundled, but still required attention to avoid a misstep.
Steve Skeldon, the navigator and copilot, sat in the right front seat. A Marine captain, his time flying fighters was less useful than his master’s degree in physics. That morning, he had taken over Scarelli’s flight duties as well, which made him a very busy man.
Behind the pilot, Sue Tillman, the sensor officer, pretended to scan the earth and space. An impressive array of infrared, visible light, and radar equipment was being installed in Defender. Hopefully it would act like the mocked-up control panels. She also took care of the voice and data links that would tie Defender in to the ground-based sensors she needed.
The weapons officer on the right was Andre Baker, a captain in the U.S. Army. Although he had no flight experience, he did know lasers, and he was a ballistics expert as well.
Biff sat in the rearmost row. As mission commander, he didn’t need to look out the window. The displays on his console gave him the big picture. From the back, he could also watch his crew.
Ray McConnell’s chair, for the flight engineer, was on Biff’s right, also in the rear. It was empty, as well. Ray was able to train only occasionally, but that was the least of Biff’s worries.
Barnes worked the master console at his station. In addition to simulating his own controls, he could inject targets and create artificial casualties for the team to deal with. Right now, he was just trying to get the simulator’s newest feature to behave.
“Sue, tell me what your board sees.”
“Bingo! I’ve got an IR target, below us bearing two seven zero elevation four five. Shifting radar to classification mode. I’ll use the laser ranger to back up the radar data.” She sounded triumphant, and somewhere behind Biff, a few technicians clapped.
“Velocity data is firming up. It should be showing up on your board.” Biff checked his own console, and said “Yes, it is.” He’d dialed in a T’ien Lung target for Sue to find, and she had. Considering they’d just installed the infrared detection feature at four that morning, it was a significant achievement.
In spite of the frustration and lost time, Biff smiled, pleased with the results. More than procedural skills, simulators taught the crew to work together through shared experience. These experiences weren’t what he’d planned on, but the result was the same.
“It’s good to see you smiling, Biff.” McConnell’s voice would have startled him a few moments earlier, but Barnes felt himself relaxing a little.
McConnell sat down in his designated chair, then clapped his hands. “Attention please! We’re short of time, so we can’t arrange a ceremony, but I believe these are yours.”
Everyone’s eyes followed McConnell as he handed a small box over to Barnes. As Biff’s hand touched it, a photoflash went off, and he turned in his seat to see a photographer behind him, smiling, his camera still ready.
He opened the small dark box to see a pair of golden oak leaves.
“We thought Defender’s mission commander should be at least a major.” Admiral Schultz stepped into Barnes’s view, reaching out to shake his hand.
Barnes, surprised and pleased, automatically tried to stand, but was blocked by the console.
“At ease, Major,” smiled Schultz. “I’m glad to be the first one to say that.” As Biff took the admiral’s hand, both automatically turned their faces to the cameraman, and the stroke flashed again.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Ray. He’s the one who insisted you should wear oak leaves. A full year ahead of zone, isn’t it?
“And by the way,” Schultz said, raising his voice so the flight crew could all hear him clearly, “you’re all going to get astronaut flight pay, backdated to the day you reported here for duty.”
It was Ray’s turn to look surprised. Schultz just smiled. “You had a good idea. I had a good idea.”
INN News, November 23
“Preparations to launch the only available replacement GPS satellite have brought a storm of criticism down on the administration. With only two days until the generally agreed-on deadline date, some observers have interpreted this as a desperate attempt to buy time. Others have
suggested that this satellite will be used as part of a U.S. offensive, or that the satellite is being wasted in some American act of defiance.”
Senator Rutledge’s image, at the podium of the Senate floor, thundered with indignation. “Has our leadership lost all sense of reality? Having lost billions of dollars’ worth of hardware, we’re about to throw away another few hundred million. This is more than insanity.”
Markin’s image reappeared. “Congressional support is growing for some sort of accommodation with the Chinese. Few here believe the not-so-secret Defender project will ever get off the ground. The latest buzzword around the halls of Congress is ‘the new reality.’”
Seven
Deadline
Xichuan Space Center, China November 23
General Shen watched Markin’s report with pleasure. American political will was beginning to weaken. Pan Yufeng, however, did not see it as clearly.
The Party Secretary, along with his aides, had watched the piece, with Chinese subtitles added. He’d only seen the problems.
“Why are they launching another navigation satellite? And how real is Defender?” He turned to face Shen, his tone accusing. “Your entire plan was based on the premise that the Americans could do nothing before we gained control of orbital space.”
The man’s frightened, Shen realized. He’s betting his political life on something he doesn’t really understand. He’s used to controlling everything, and he can’t control this. He’s already trying to set me up, digging my grave if this fails.
“We do control space, Comrade Pan.” Shen controlled his voice carefully. He had to be respectful, but the Party Secretary needed a dose of backbone. “Right now, we can kill anything in low or mid-level orbit. Soon, we’ll be able to attack even geosynchronous satellites.
“This conflict, any conflict, is about wills. We want to impose our will on the Americans. We’ve shown them how vulnerable they are in space, and how that vulnerability affects them down here. They are starting to realize that. Their will is starting to break.
“Defender is their last hope. We’re ready for it. We know enough about the VentureStar design to guess at her performance, and we know they’ll be launching from California. Within minutes of her launch, we’ll be able to take action.”
Space Force Headquarters November 25
Ray McConnell tried to stay focused on the tour as Jenny Oh explained the Battle Center’s status. He hadn’t seen much of her in the past two months, although they were on the same base, working toward the same goal. He’d wanted to see her, of course, but he didn’t need distractions.
Originally, she’d been assigned to set up the communications network that would support the mission. It was an immense job. She had to integrate links between Air Force’s Space Command, Navy tracking stations, NASA, and even some civilian facilities. It had to be done quickly and with the real purpose secret.
All that data would be fed to a single point, the Battle Management Center, and her task had such an impact on the Center that she ended up taking over that, too. She’d done both jobs well, almost elegantly.
They’d set up the Battle Center in an empty service school. The classrooms and offices were taken over by the support staff, and the large central bay, which had housed a simulator, now held the command display. The building itself looked weathered, worn, and misused by its new occupants. The few windows had been covered, and other modifications were left raw and unpainted.
She’d met him at the door, standing proudly under a sign that said “Battle Management Center.” He’d been glad to see her, of course, and had felt a little of the tension leave. He’d smiled, but it might have been a little larger than he’d intended. She smiled back, but it was a tired smile.
She seemed different, and he realized she looked harder, a little thinner, and wondered if the strain showed on him as well.
Jenny led him down the central hallway, past security, past rooms crammed with electronic equipment or people hunched over workstations. There was more security at the door to the Display Center, and a vestibule that served as a light lock.
They entered the darkened two-story room in one corner. An elevated scaffold had been erected that ran around three sides of the room. It was about fifteen feet wide, with a waist-high rail on the inside edge. The fourth wall was lined with gray equipment cabinets, and Ray could see more boxy shapes tucked under the scaffolding.
Jenny trotted up the steps to the scaffolding, putting them one story up, then led Ray along the walkway. Desks lined it, facing the center, with an aisle behind them. “This section’s communications, that’s electronic warfare, that’s intelligence.” They turned the corner. “This wall is spacecraft systems. We don’t get a tenth of the telemetry that NASA gets, but we still monitor critical systems.”
They turned the last corner, and she pointed to the last group, on the third side. “Admiral Schultz and his staff will sit here. I’ve got communications rigged to the White House, the NMCC, and to all the major commands.”
He looked around the space. Everything was neatly arranged. The cabinets were fully installed. They’d even taken the time to paint safety warnings near the stairways. “It looks great, Jenny. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Don’t praise me yet,” Jenny replied. “It’s looked like this for almost a week. The real test is what’s inside.”
She walked over to one of the desks, labeled “Staff,” and picked up a virtual-reality headset. It was an older model, and still had a cranial framework to hold the eyepieces. Slipping it on easily, she pulled on the gloves and touched a switch on the headset. He heard her say “Begin test three bravo.”
The center bay, until then dark and empty, suddenly filled with a bright white sphere, easily ten feet across. It floated in the air halfway between the floor and the ceiling. Ray barely had time to see it before it changed color, becoming a deep blue. Patches of blue lightened to a medium shade, then lightened more, shifting to brown and green. He realized he was watching the world being built, starting with the deepest part of the ocean. Then higher elevations were added, one level at a time.
As Jenny tapped the air with her data gloves, points of light appeared on the surface, and Ray recognized one as Miramar. Lines appeared circling the earth, and he knew they were orbits.
Visually, it was stunning. The implications for command were even more impressive. It was the situational awareness a commander needed to fight a worldwide battle.
“Here’s the hard part,” Jenny announced. A flashing symbol appeared in southern China, becoming a short red line segment. A transparent red trumpet appeared around the symbol as it quickly climbed toward orbit. “This is a recording of their last intercept,” she told him, taking off the helmet and watching the large display. “Here’s what we added.”
A new point of light flashed, at Miramar. It started to rise, and the display went dark.
The sudden blackness left Ray momentarily blind, and he heard a loud, “Damn! I wanted that to work.” He could hear the frustration in her voice.
“The gear was a piece of cake. This display duplicates the one at Space Command, and I could get off-the-shelf components for nine-tenths of what we needed. Hooking it up was straightforward.
“But programming in the new systems has been difficult. We have to be able to track Defender in real time. The display was originally designed to show a friendly unit’s location based on GPS data. We can’t depend on that, so we’re using radar and optical sensors all over the world to track your position. That information has to be collected and fused, then sent to the display. That software is all brand-new.” She smiled a lopsided smile. “I hear they’re having a lot of problems at Space Command as well.”
Ray waited for a moment, then asked quietly, “Is there anything we can get that will help you finish on time?”
She shook her head. “I wish I knew what to ask for.”
Her tone shook McConnell. He heard someone near the end of her rope. Sh
e’d accomplished miracles, but in a week this gear had to be rock-solid. Defender needed guidance from the Battle Center. They didn’t have the onboard sensors to run the entire engagement from the ship.
He couldn’t bring in more people. At this late date, they’d have to be brought up to speed. They wouldn’t be ready in time. She certainly didn’t need any more gear. If she had the resources, then it was all about leadership.
“You can do this,” Ray said carefully. “I can’t give you a sunshine speech. Nobody’s more committed to Defender than you, but I think you’re afraid of failing. You care so much about the project that the fear of not making it is tying you up in knots.”
She almost shook as she nodded. “I don’t like to fail. I never have, more so than most. And this is especially important.” Jenny’s fatigue was more evident now, as she leaned heavily on the rail.
Gently taking her arm, Ray led her over to a chair and sat her in it. He sat on the edge of the desk. He looked at her steadily.
“You’ve been a rock for me since the day this began. But also since that day, there hasn’t been the time I’d like for us. I’ve had to say focused, and that’s meant putting my feelings for you in deep freeze, until this is over. Your belief has kept me going. I hope my belief in you can do the same.”
She smiled and looked up at him. “I want it to.”
“Then it will.” He stood. Ray tried to sound positive without being too enthusiastic. “We will make it, Jenny, and I’m glad you’ll be here in the Center when I’m up.”
Ray’s phone beeped, and, reluctantly, Ray answered it. It was Admiral Schultz. “They’re moving,” he said without waiting for Ray to speak.
Ray didn’t have to ask who. “Where? What are they doing?”
“Imaging satellites have been watching along the southern border. They’re leaving their staging areas. They’ll be in position to invade at first light tomorrow.”
National Military Command Center November 26
“There has been no communication from the Chinese government, either to us or to the Vietnamese.” Secretary Peck sat next to General Kastner. He’d listened to Admiral Overton’s briefing on the movement of Chinese and Vietnamese forces. Now he added a few more details, things the Joint Chiefs weren’t normally privy to.
Combat Page 27
