Virus
Page 20
NO TROUBLE FOUND- ALL SYSTEMS PASSED-
It was like looking in the mirror and seeing the reflection of a stranger. Must have been something I ate, the back-seater thought at first, but the blinking radar PRF (Pulse Repetition Frequency) indicator would not disappear. The characteristics of the DEWSAT radar changed after the ASAT launch, but they weren’t supposed to. They’d never changed before, always been rock solid—an electrical heartbeat he’d often used to calibrate his equipment. The DEWSAT’s radar power increased and the number of radar pulses per second shot sky-high, as if the radar was taking a picture of them. Thinking back, he remembered something about training computers to recognize targets using radar imaging combined with AI. His equipment indicators kept blinking and blinking until finally evidence overcame disbelief, and the realization came crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. He gasped. Oh my God! There’s no place to hide!
“Break off, Major! Break off!”
Recording it all, Cheyenne Mountain watched on computer-enhanced TV—the DEWSAT, Hailey's Comet, and all six ASATs. Pictures were transmitted real-time to Headquarters from a modified Boeing 777 aircraft circling below them at an altitude of 50,000 feet.
Sky Pix, 12/10/2014, 1446 Zulu, 7:46 a.m. Local
Flying Observatory,
Specially Modified High-altitude Boeing 777,
In Flight Over White Sands Missile Range, New
Mexico
“Sky Pix, this is Big Shot. Hailey’s Comet is approaching from the west.”
“Roger, Big Shot. Targets locked on screen.” Displayed on the pilot’s TV screen were two astonishing, clear computer-enhanced images. Comparable to an Ansel Adams photographic print in texture and detail, these very expensive pictures captured all the detail the eye could see in the existing light and then brightened the result by bathing the objects in computer-simulated full spectrum sunlight. Using the computer to combine simulated light with the real images made the objects appear three-dimensional— like they’d pop out of the screen into your lap. The pilot’s TV screen was partitioned into eight separate picture windows, or smaller screens. Hailey’s Comet was centered in one screen, the DEWS AT passing overhead was displayed in another. All the other picture windows on the pilot’s TV screen were empty black rectangles.
Two-hundred-nine feet long, looking like a stretched 767 with a bubble on its back, the modified Boeing 777 was a flying observatory designed to take pictures of up to eight moving objects simultaneously. Underneath the bubble inside the aircraft body were eight telescopes, each built around a smaller version of the DEWSAT’s adjustable mirror. The mirror was the central light and heat collecting element in each telescope. Each telescope could rapidly search overhead for targets, guided by the aircraft’s integrated radar and infrared sensors. Similar in design to the DEWSAT’s stealth-proof radar, the aircraft’s UWB radar could track multiple targets overhead. This integrated system fed real-time target position data to separate computers which pointed each telescope. High definition, ultra high-speed video signals were collected from each telescope, converted to a digital stream of ones and zeroes, then transmitted to an earth station. The earth station routed the signals over glass fiber into Headquarters’s nerve center, the basement underneath Cheyenne Mountain.
The flying observatory required a three-person crew— pilot, copilot, and flight engineer. During the critical portions of the mission, when timing was of the essence, all onboard observation, tracking, and flight systems were operated remotely from Cheyenne Mountain. The flight crew came along for the ride in case something went wrong.
At 1448 hours Zulu, the crew of the flying observatory The Day of Retribution watched their TV screens as six AS AT rocket engines ignited simultaneously. Everything they saw on screen, Headquarters saw in real-time, projected on much larger screens.
As Headquarters had expected, only moments after the six ASAT rocket engines sparked to life, the DEWSAT briefly fired its attitude thrusters. Headquarters and the Sky Pix crew anxiously watched the DEWSAT come about, pointing its laser toward the ASATs. Once the target alignment burn was completed, its mirror tilted slightly, refining its aim. In less time than it took the pilot to inhale one deep breath, the DEWSAT fired six times reducing each conventional one-hundred-pound ASAT warhead to a fiery white-hot ball of exploding gasses.
The pilot sat spellbound, unable to speak. He’d expected the ASAT kill sequence to be impressive, but had not mentally accounted for the DEWSAT’s speed and precision. So much destruction, so little time. As the explosions overhead lit up the sky, he felt fear. He’d heard about the DEWSAT’s kill capability, but never witnessed it up close and firsthand. An awesome force, and in the wrong hands the potential for mechanized death was unthinkable. The realization that such force as this constantly orbited overhead sent a cold rigor through his body.
Behind the pilot in the main body of the aircraft, red flashing indicator lights caught the attention of the flight engineer inside the observatory. The skin of the Boeing 777 was heating up and the characteristics of the DEWSAT radar were changing.
Racing forward, lunging through the door into the pilot compartment, he shouted: “We’ve got trouble!”
Watching the Southern Horizon, 12/10/2014, 1447 Zulu,
7:47 A.M. Local
Inside the Ground Fire Laser Blockhouse,
Los Alamos National Laboratory,
Los Alamos, New Mexico
Except for the power lines, there was precious little there—miles of nothing, dust, prairie dogs, a cinder blockhouse, and a radar search antenna pointed expectantly toward the southern horizon. The endless miles of high-voltage power lines that stretched across the wide-open flatland terminated on a power substation inside the blockhouse and fed life into the Ground Fire laser.
The Ground Fire laser occupied most of the cinder block building and was about one hundred feet across. Looking something like a wagon wheel at rest on the floor with its hub pointing skyward, the Ground Fire laser had been designed for precision shooting directly overhead. The hub of the wagon wheel was the mirror assembly and the eight spokes were separate free electron lasers. Delivering a kick equal to about ninety sticks of dynamite at a range of one hundred miles, the hub combined laser power from the spokes and the mirror steered the lethal beam on target.
All eyes in the blockhouse strained to see the laser guidance radar display screen. The screen revealed no target, but the crew wouldn’t have to wait much longer. Satellites always showed themselves on schedule. Pointing at the southern horizon, the Ground Fire laser guidance radar antenna stood poised, ready to lock on target, patiently waiting for the DEWSAT to rise.
“DEWSAT look window opens in three minutes,” announced the lab director. Delicate optical instruments had problems enough with the rigors of the desert heat and dust, but botching this DEWSAT shot could be a career-limiting experience for the Los Alamos lab director. “Remember, don’t shoot until you’ve got your crosshairs locked on the stem. Disable it, don’t blow it out of the sky.” The DEWSAT target window would open only twenty-eight seconds because the Ground Fire laser’s shooting angle was limited to thirty-five degrees off vertical. Its beam steering mirror was similar to the DEWSATs, but its agility was restricted on the ground because of its weight. Nevertheless, the Ground Fire laser could lock on a DEWSAT moving at five miles per second through an arc across the sky. The director planned to wait for the DEWSAT to rise directly overhead, then take his best shot. Although Washington and Cheyenne Mountain were screaming at him to hurry, the director wasn’t about to bungle this shot and watch his career go up in smoke.
17
An Unknown Threat, 12110/2014, 1448 Zulu
Altitude: 115 Miles In Circular Polar Orbit,
Onboard A DEWSAT
After Hailey's Comet released its six AS AT missiles, the DEWSAT above the White Sands Missile Range characterized the XR-30 as a new and unrecognized threat. Each DEWSAT had been programmed to recognize and measure new threats, so
it focused its radar and infrared telescope on Hailey's Comet, measuring and recording every detail it could see. The DEWSAT was designed to recognize known threats, but it didn’t have a description of any threat that looked like Hailey’s Comet, or for that matter, any other aircraft.
Passing over White Sands Missile Range, the DEWSAT transmitted Centurion an encrypted radio signal which read:
Wed Dec 10 14:48:14 Z 2014
To: Centurion, Guardian Unknown Threat Signature Follows:
Attributes (sample 1)
Altitude: 100,003ft;
Speed: 8.1Mach;
Rate of Descent: 979ft/sec;
FlightPathAngle: -5.4deg;
Length: 200ft;
Radar Cross Section Array : [. . . . ];
Infrared EmissionArray: [ . . . . ];
. . .
Attributes (sample 2)
Altitude: 97,981ft;
Speed: 8.21Mach;
Rate of Descent: 1989.7ft/sec;
Flight Path Angle: -10.9deg; Length: 200ft;
. . .
Attributes (sampLe 3)
Altitude: 96,923ft;
Speed: 8.4Mach;
Rate of Descent: 3032.6ft/sec;
Flight Path Angle: -16.4deg;
Length: 200ft;
. . .
. . .
. . .
Attributes (sample 10)
Altitude: 88,620ft;
Speed: 11.2Mach;
Rate of Descent: 9949.3ft/sec;
FLight Path AngLe: -44.1deg;
Length: 200ft;
End Of Signature
Using a measurement language the DEWSAT understood, this message described Hailey's Comet to computers onboard Freedom and Hope. PAM took Centurion’s message since he was asleep. (He would continue sleeping until a super-user could board Freedom and wake him up.)
Alpha, 12/10/2014, 1448 Zulu
Space Station Freedom
PAM had the ability to learn from the DEWSAT’s experience, generalize the DEWSAT’s threat description, then train the armada to hunt for this new class of threat.
Once PAM digested the description of Hailey’s Comet, she altered it, making it more general, then transmitted an encrypted radio signal to her armada.
Wed Dec 10 14:48:25 Z 2014
To: ALL DEWSATs DESIGNATE NEW TARGET CLASS: ALPHA
. . .
. . .
. . .
Alpha Signature Follows:
End Of Signature
PAM expanded the threat description to mean: Anything man-made that flew was an ALPHA class target and considered a potential threat.
After PAM’s radio message was acknowledged, she transmitted a brief second message:
Wed Dec 10 14:48:35 Z 2014
To: ALL DEWSATs track and log all ALPHAS
PAM ordered her armada to track the position of every aircraft in flight around the world—a mammoth data processing job, but well within the capabilities of the DEWSAT armada operating as a networked team.
After issuing her track all alphas command, PAM waited for acknowledge signals indicating that each DEWSAT understood the order and would carry it out.
Inferring Scope, 12110/2014, 1448 Zulu
Space Station Hope
Pulling double duty, Scott’d been straight out nearly twenty hours monitoring Pasha’s condition and standing watch by his control station. The good news—Headquarters comm link was now fully operational. Mac had pointed their Line Of Sight communications antenna toward Kaliningrad who’d patched them through to Cheyenne Mountain. When the bad news came, it came quickly as a flurry of message traffic scrolling across Pasha’s control monitor.
Exhausted, Scott and Gonzo looked on in disbelief. Then, almost as suddenly as the messages appeared on screen, Scott’s adrenaline pumps kicked in, increasing her pulse, clearing her eyes, and rejuvenating her senses. Within seconds, her frosty edge was back.
“What’s this all about?” Gonzo asked, pointing to the message text on screen.
To: Centurioni Guardian Unknown Threat Signature Follows:
Attributes (sample 1)
Altitude : 100,003 ft;
Speed: 8.1 Mach;
Rate of Descent: 979ft/sec.
Flight Path Angle: -5.4 deg;
Length: 200ft;
. . .
Attributes (sample 2)
Altitude: 97,981 ft;
Speed : 8.21 Mach;
Rate of Descent: 1989.7ft/sec;
Flight Path Angle: -10.9 deg;
Length: 200ft;
. . .
Scott focused on screen, boring in on the altitude, speed, and length parameters. Immediately, something looked familiar about this data, a sense of deja vu washed over her, like she’d seen this data before. After a fast study, she ignored the radar cross section and infrared emission data, understanding full well that only an electromagnetics expert could make quick sense out of it.
Speaking out loud so she could hear herself think, she began deliberately, carefully weighing her information, coloring it with instinct derived from experience. “Gut reaction—what we’ve got here is a series of snapshots, a flight trajectory of some sort, probably of a missile or a very fast, very high-altitude aircraft. There are no two-hundred-foot-long missiles en route; we know that for a fact, and this one’s falling out of the sky, dropping like a rock. So eliminate the possibility of a missile. Both the X-30 and XR-30 are capable of 100,000-foot altitudes with speeds in excess of mach eight, but only the XR-30 is two hundred feet long. Looks like an XR-30, probably Hailey’s Comet.”
“It’s Hailey’s Comet alright,” Gonzo agreed. “But look ahead here. This ALPHA class target description looks generic, it could be almost anything.”
. . .
DESIGNATE NEW TARGET CLASS: ALPHA
Alpha Signature Follows:
. . .
“Let’s see,” Scott responded, studying the screen. “An example of the ALPHA class can be anything above ground level . . . moving faster than ten knots . . . that’s greater than ten feet long. That’s a generic description alright. Climb rate not specified. What do you make of that?” “By convention, not specified means don’t care.”
“I agree. My read exactly. The ALPHA class doesn’t care about climb rate. An ALPHA can climb, dive, or maintain level flight, but it’s got to be moving above the ground. Look at this.” Scott pointed to the screen. “Radar cross section array is set to minimum, that probably means the minimum signal a DEW can detect; and the infrared emission array is not specified at all. I read that as a don’t care, so an ALPHA can have any sort of heat signature at all—it doesn’t matter. This ALPHA class must be huge, there must be thousands of...” She paused, then spoke in a low clear voice, staring into Gonzo’s eyes. “Anything flying that’s man-made.”
When Scott heard the sound of her own voice saying these words, she began to understand. Suddenly, the realization that something was terribly wrong came crashing down with devastating force. For a few moments, countless unanswered questions raced through her mind, causing her head to spin. Then out of the chaos, she zeroed in on the essential question: Why was Centurion designating new target classes? That was Headquarters’s job.
Brought back to reality by the look of stark terror in Gonzo’s eyes, Scott knew she had to do something fast. Quickly, unexpectedly, a third message flashed on screen— track and log all alphas. When Scott read it, she knew what to do.
“Guardian,” she barked, typing frantically. A talking head identical to Centurion materialized on screen. “Transmit this message NOW!”
Flash Message, 12110/2014, 1449 Zulu, 7:49 A.M. Local
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
Craven furrowed his brow and slammed his giant fist down on the table. “Dammit to hell!” Such outrage from Craven was unusual. No one in the Crow’s Nest could recall him getting this worked up over a flash message before.
For moments that seemed to stretch into eternity, Mason and Napper sat paralyzed, ri
gidly uncomprehending, staring at their consoles unable to breathe or speak. Sitting alongside Craven in the control room, they couldn’t believe the message from Scott scrolling across their computer screen:
FLASH MESSAGE: Wed Dec 10 14:49:49 Z
2014
TOP SECRET
SAC EYES ONLY
TO: Supreme Allied Command Headquar-
ters FROM: SDI Space Station Hope
SUBJECT: New Target Class Designated ALPHA
SYNOPSIS: DEWSAT armada is tracking all airborne aircraft around the world END OF MESSAGE
“We’ve got to work through this problem fast,” Mason said in a weary voice. His throat was dry and he had a hard time forming the words. Looking over the bleary-eyed officers filling the control room, he noticed their uniforms were wrinkled and faces unshaven. He sighed, then continued addressing his exhausted staff. “We have an unbelievable situation here, but it’s real and deadly serious. We don’t know exactly how it happened, but we do know enough to make a good guess. We must think clearly and turn this thing around. Let’s take it one step at a time and build on what we know.”
Mason projected the message onto the outside wall. He knew this message was a warning, a dreadful premonition of things to come. Scott’s message was a call for action, but no one knew what to do. Mason believed they could sort it out if they were given the time, but time was in short supply—everything happened so quickly.
A few people in the room gasped, but no one spoke. The room was deathly silent until a hollow-sounding thud was heard from the middle of the room. General Krol had bitten completely through his pipe stem and it had fallen out of his mouth onto the raised floor.
John Sullivan, Sam Napper, and Mason studied the message, pondering the unthinkable consequences.