Combat

by Stephen Coonts

  Instead of going through the cafeteria line, Ray checked off what he wanted on a menu data pad. The theory was that the crew should be doing useful work instead of standing in line, but it was just another perk, a way of making them feel special. Ray had allowed it reluctantly.

  They did work, Barnes drilling them relentlessly on safety procedures, equipment locations, technical characteristics, and each other’s duties. His favorite trick was to ask one question, then ask another in the middle of the answer. The victim had to answer both correctly, in order, within seconds.

  At first Ray thought Barnes was picking on him, grilling him repeatedly on engine-out procedures. Then after watching him work over the others, McConnell thought Barnes might have been cutting him some slack.

  The recital continued throughout breakfast, and Barnes prepared to take the crew to the simulator. Ray found that he wanted to stay with them, but knew that there were too many last-minute problems to fix.

  Part of him couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning. The rest of him wanted the day to go on forever. He needed the time.

  INN News December 1 2200

  Mark Markin stood as close to Miramar’s front gate as he could, which meant across Miramar Way, off Highway I-15. At night, there was still a lot of traffic on the arterial, but most of it passed by. The camera followed one heavy truck that did turn in, centering on the armed sentries that surrounded it and checked it carefully before allowing it to move on. It lingered on a dog held by one of the guards.

  “Following the attack two days ago, the Marines here have increased security to extraordinary heights. Civilian traffic on and off the base has been severely restricted, and most of the traffic into the base has been official.

  “All our attempts to contact the military regarding the damage inflicted by the attack have been fruitless. The Coalition against Military Space, which claims responsibility for the action, says that the launchpad was destroyed and a nearby hangar damaged. Major Dolan, the base Public Relations officer, still denies the existence of Defender, and is therefore ‘unable to discuss damage to something that doesn’t exist.’”

  A grainy black-and-white image replaced Markin. It showed a squarish building with rails leaving one side. They led to a rectangular flat area, with a girder structure in the center. The framework was undercut with a sloped trench. It could only be a spacecraft launchpad.

  The image was skewed, as if the camera had been tilted well off the vertical. “This photo was taken from an INN plane flying just beyond the prohibited area over the air station. Using a special lens and computer enhancement, we were able to get this image of the ‘nonexistent’ hangar and launchpad. While there is little that can be seen at this distance, the hangar and pad appear intact. Presumably, Defender is undamaged.

  “INN news will monitor developments at the base closely and let you know the instant that there are any developments.”

  Space Force Headquarters, Miramar December 1 2215

  Admiral Schultz turned off the wall display angrily. There was little pleasure in pushing a button. What he wanted to do was push in Markin’s face. “War in a fishbowl,” he grumbled.

  Colonel Evans, Defender’s Security officer, could only agree. “Radar’s tracked civilian planes flying just outside the prohibited area. There’s a good chance at least one of them is an INN plane with a TV camera aboard, waiting for us to launch.”

  Schultz grinned. “Then let’s give them something to look at. I need to talk to General Norman, and Jenny Oh. You might have to wake them, but tell them it’s urgent.”

  Evans asked, “How about McConnell?”

  Schultz shook his head. “No, let him sleep. He can’t help with this, and he’s got a busy day coming.” He stifled a yawn. “And once he launches, I’m taking a nap.”

  Battle Center, Space Force Headquarters December 2 0200

  Schultz had found Jenny Oh at work, testing and refining the tracking software so critical to the mission. She also planned on sleeping after the launch.

  Now she sat at the chief controller’s desk, considering Schultz’s idea. She was tired and worried, but it was an intriguing plan, even if it complicated these last few precious hours.

  “We’ve run similar drills,” she replied carefully. She couldn’t give Schultz a resounding yes, much as she wanted to. She needed to think it through herself. “And my programmers could continue running their tests separately.”

  “I don’t want to do anything that interferes with readiness for the launch tomorrow,” the admiral assured her.

  “It would mean transmitting on the launch frequencies.”

  “We have more than one set, don’t we?” he asked.

  “Yes, but only a limited number. Once they’re used, we have to assume the Chinese or anyone else will be able to monitor them.”

  “But they’re encrypted,” Schultz replied.

  “I don’t assume anything,” Jenny answered firmly.

  “You’re right, of course, but it’s worth it.” He looked at his watch. “I want it nice and dark, so you’ll need to be ready by 0500 hours.”

  “We’ll be ready.”

  Eight

  Arrival

  Gongga Shan December 2

  General Shen paced a path in the launch center. The staff, familiar with their duties, gave him a wide berth and paid attention to the upcoming launch. He left them to it. Events were taking their own course. He was no longer in complete control of the situation, and he hated it.

  The launch base, always on alert for attack, was on a war footing. Every man of the garrison had been turned out, and patrols went out twice as far as usual. Flanker fighters ran racetrack patterns overhead.

  They had cause to be concerned. American strikes up and down the coast had hurt the People’s Liberation Army badly. Vital bases were damaged, ships had been sunk, and dozens of aircraft destroyed in the air. The Politburo had forbidden the services to discuss casualty figures, even among themselves.

  Still, the American attacks had been carefully chosen to strike weak points. Heavily defended areas had been spared, so far. It was as if the Americans had lost confidence. They no longer believed in their invincibility. He hoped that feeling was right, because it meant they were weakening.

  Shen knew it would be difficult for the Americans to strike so far inland, but he had to be prudent. Especially since this was where the real battle lay.

  Li Zhang, the Premier, had asked the Politburo if they should seek some compromise with the Americans. Both sides stop shooting, in return for security guarantees. Pan Yunfeng, at Shen’s urging, had finally convinced them to continue the launch program without interruption. Shen’s reasoning had been irrefutable: Even if Defender really existed, there was no way to know when it would be ready to launch. A week? A month?

  It was frustrating, but really irrelevant, since Defender would be destroyed soon after it took off. Shen was almost eager for the Americans to launch. Its appearance would resolve so much of the uncertainty he had to deal with. Its failure would break their will.

  Miramar Marine Corps Air Station 0400

  Admiral Schultz watched the pilot preflighting his SuperHornet. It was dark on the flight line, illumination coming from spotlights nearby. The drab gray camouflage scheme didn’t reflect the lights, and the plane appeared to be built from angular shadows.

  The fighter was unarmed, but carried three of the big 480-gallon drop tanks. The pilot paid a lot of attention to them.

  General Norman had joined Schultz on the flight line. “It seems so simple,” the general said, looking at the plane’s payload.

  “It’ll work just fine,” Schultz reassured him. “We used to have this as a problem with A-6s and F-14s. In fact, once the pilots found out how to do it, we had to explicitly forbid the practice. There are some risks.”

  “Which Major O’Hara understands,” Norman reassured him. “But I’m taking all this on faith. I’m just a dumb grunt.”

  “And I’m just an old
pilot.” Schultz grinned at him. “I’m needed elsewhere. Would you care to join me, Carl?”

  “I’d love to, Bill,” replied the general.

  Space Force Headquarters, Miramar 0400

  Suiting up for the flight was still a novelty for Ray. He’d practiced the procedure twice before, also a fitting for the suit and other systems. Like the shuttle crew, they would work in a shirtsleeve environment, but for the launch they would wear the full rig.

  McConnell moved through the morning in a haze. It didn’t feel real. It had happened too fast. He felt adrift. His role in building Defender and preparing her for flight was over. He was so used to the pressure of the deadline that he still felt it there. Like taking finals, it took a while to realize they were over.

  Add to that the fulfillment of a dream. He would fly in space. He’d flown before, of course, in light planes that he piloted and joyrides in high-performance jets. This would be much different. He’d see and feel things he’d never seen or felt before.

  He knew he was afraid. There were risks, of course. Mechanical failure or human error could bring them to grief, but it was the uncertainty of the mission that really frightened him. Did they have the right tools? Ray was so closely tied with Defender, he felt part of her, and the thought of her failing almost paralyzed him. He remembered his talk with Jenny, and tried to say to himself the words he’d said to her.

  Space Forces Battle Center, Miramar, California 0415

  The visit was as important as fueling Defender or loading her software. Led by Biff Barnes, Defender’s crew filed up onto the scaffolding surrounding the slowly rotating globe of the earth. They were dressed for the mission, wearing their flight suits and, purely for photo purposes, carrying their helmets.

  Although nobody announced their arrival, someone, then several people, and finally the entire center clapped and cheered as they made their way to Admiral Schultz’s position.

  Ray felt embarrassed and proud at the same time. He would depend on these people while he was up. In fact, without them he was helpless. But he and the rest of the crew were the ones taking the risks.

  Biff Barnes understood it better. There’d always been a special bond between the people who maintained the planes and those who flew them. Defender’s crew was here to acknowledge that bond, and to let the support staff have one more look at the crew before launch. They were the stars of the show, but stars had to let themselves be seen.

  Admiral Schultz also wanted to say good-bye and wish them luck as well. After this they would start the final launch preparations, and there’d be no time for ceremony.

  Schultz shook everyone’s hands, and had a few words for each member of the crew. When Ray took his hand, the normally outgoing admiral was silent for a moment, and finally just said, “Good luck.”

  Space Forces Launch Center, Miramar, California 0430

  The crew left the ready room together and walked outside. Only a few people saw them, but they clapped and waved at the six as they approached Defender.

  Ray had visited Cape Canaveral several times, and loved the huge Vertical Assembly Building and the massive tracked transporter that carried the assembled shuttle on its six-mile-per-hour crawl to the launchpad. They were tremendous technical achievements, needed because of the shuttle’s boosters and fuel tanks. They were also tremendously expensive.

  That morning, before dawn, they’d brought Defender out of her hangar. Two rails helped them guide her onto the pad, where she was elevated to the vertical for launching. Fueling began as soon as she was locked in place. With an 0300 rollout, she’d be ready for launch at 0600. The sheer simplicity of the preparations amazed him.

  She was still an overall white, a broad snowy wedge that reflected the work lights. The swept-back wings on either side only made her look wider and taller. The ship sat on a short framework, the beam used to elevate her now lowered again.

  They’d left the American flag, but painted out the Lockheed Martin logo and the VENTURESTAR lettering. Star-and-bar insignia had been added on the wings and the center of the fuselage, top and bottom. Below the insignia, in black capital letters, was her name. To Ray, she was more than beautiful.

  The crew access elevator took them two-thirds of the way up, where the square black of the open access hatch led them inside. The moment the last of them was in, technicians closed the hatch and removed the elevator.

  Ray became wrapped up in the checklist. The six of them each had their own tasks, and had to work as a team to do it correctly …

  Runway 15, Miramar Marine Corps Air Station 0530

  Major Tim O’Hara smoothly lined up the jet on the runway. Night takeoffs required caution. The lights of the town in the background could confuse a pilot looking for a runway marker or a signal light. He set his brakes and watched the tower. As he waited, he checked his radio again. The transmit switch was off, and would stay off until he was ready to land.

  The runway was dry and clear, the weather perfect. He fought the urge to double-check his armament panel. He did double-check that his nav lights were off. He wasn’t supposed to attract any attention, and the tower would keep all other traffic clear. He heard them vectoring the standing fighter patrol to the far end of the base.

  A green light flashed from the tower, and he pushed the throttle forward to full military. The runway lights slid past him on either side, quickly becoming streaks. With long practice, he pulled back on the stick, feeling the ship almost leap off the runway. He cleaned her up, bringing up the flaps and gear.

  Throttling back, he stayed low, and started his first turn quickly. Buildings rushed by frighteningly close below him, but the route had been carefully planned to avoid any obstructions. He had to stay low to avoid the civilian air traffic control radars. You could never tell who had tapped into their signal.

  At jet speeds, he crossed the base almost instantly, and spotted the IP ahead. They’d decided to use the motor pool. After his turn there, it would be a straight shot to Defender’s launchpad.

  He banked precisely over the motor pool’s parking lot, then pushed the throttle to full military again. Even at low altitude, he could see the pad ahead of him, and he pointed the nose straight at it.

  The jet built up speed again, quickly passing four hundred knots, and passed over a small service building he’d noted on the map. It marked the spot where he had to begin his zoom.

  O’Hara pulled the nose up sharply. By the time he’d reached the vertical, he was directly over the launchpad. He hit the afterburner, and an instant later, the DUMP switch on his drop tanks. Fuel sprayed out vents on the back of the tanks and was immediately ignited by the jet’s exhaust.

  Accelerating, he concentrated on keeping the nose straight up, and hoped someone was getting a picture.

  INN News 0532

  “FLASH. This is Mark Markin, INN News, outside Miramar. We’ve just seen a flame rising to the east.” Turning to someone off-camera, he asked, “Is it still there? Get it linked!”

  Markin’s face was replaced by a bright red streak moving against a black background. Jerky camera motion gave the impression of great distance. The end of the streak flickered and wavered. It seemed to be going very fast.

  “Less than a minute ago, a red flash appeared in a part of the base used by the Defender program. The flash shot up into the sky at terrific speed, and is now fading at high altitude.

  “Without any announcement, and presumably to protect the American GPS constellation, Defender has launched.

  “I say again …”

  Space Forces Battle Center, Miramar, California 0532

  General Norman watched INN’s transmission, grinning. “That’s what you get for peeping over fences,” he joked at Markin’s image. The INN reporter was rehashing the recent event yet again.

  Schultz was listening on his headset, and watching Jenny move among the launch controllers. Instead of watching their screens, they read from a paper script. Normally used for training, it drilled the controllers i
n what they were supposed to say at each point as they guided Defender during its launch. They’d practiced the procedure dozens of times, but this time their transmissions were being broadcast. Nobody was sure who would be listening in, but if anyone did, they would hear what sounded like the real thing.

  Gongga Shan, December 1 0540

  From the look on the controller’s face, Shen knew it was an urgent call. He took the headset and heard Dong Zhi’s voice. “They’ve launched. It’s all over INN.”

  “What did they show?” he asked, motioning to one of the technicians. Although they had access to the Internet, they were not allowed to link INN except in “special circumstances.” Shen thought this would qualify. Along with the launch staff, he watched the launch and heard Markin’s commentary.

  “Time of launch was 5:30 local, about ten minutes ago,” reported Dong. “We’ve picked up increased radio traffic from Miramar, as well. We’re calculating the intercept basket now.”

  “We’re still seventeen minutes from launch here,” said Shen, checking the time. He could feel a prebattle excitement build in him. The Americans had moved.

  “I recommend holding your launch until we finish the intercept,” the scientist replied. “I don’t want my staff having to deal with two vehicles at once. Without worldwide tracking, we’ll have to move fast once the American appears.”

  “All right.” Shen was reluctant to hold the launch, but agreed with Dong. He knew the staff’s capabilities. “I’ll wait for word from you.”

  Dong reassured him, “Preparations for the booster have started and are on schedule. It should launch in ten minutes.”

  Shen broke the connection and turned to find his launch crew suddenly busy at their posts. He should be worried about the American spacecraft, but felt relieved instead. He really hadn’t expected them to launch so soon. It would have a short life.

  Space Force Battle Center, Miramar 0552

  Wrapped up in the launch sequence, Ray was almost irritated when Schultz’s voice came over the comm circuit. “SITREP, people,” Schultz announced. Conversation stopped immediately, and the admiral continued, speaking quickly. “We’ve got a launch.”