Virus

by Bill Buchanan

  Outside Hope's geostationary orbit was a belt of orbiting space junk. A belt of debris where dead and retired satellites were parked when they came to the end of their useful service life. Scott planned to hide Hell Fire in this ring of orbiting junk while Freedom passed underneath them. Generally, PAM wouldn’t consider anything in the orbiting junk belt as a threat unless it moved toward Freedom.

  Gonzo sat in the backseat carefully monitoring every action the autopilot made. “So far. we’re golden, Scotty. Main engine burn was clean. Braking burn in three...two...one...ignition.”

  Hell Fire shuddered briefly then rolled through a slow pirouette. As planned, Hell Fire pulled in behind the large torpedo-shaped carcass of a dead communications bird once operated by the United States Air Force. Hell Fire's first rendezvous was now complete. Once they slowed to the speed of the communication satellite, Scott examined the orbiting debris scattered all around them. She was amazed and grateful that they were unharmed by the space borne shrapnel. Once convinced all was well around their new parking spot, Scott spoke to her crew. “Now we wait.”

  The Chase, 12/24/2014, 2258 Zulu, 3:58 P.M. Mountain

  Standard Time

  Onboard Hell Fire,

  Positioned Directly Between The Sun And Freedom

  Hell Fire's crew slept. The cockpit and reconnaissance cabin were dark; the instrument lighting was turned down.

  Beep Beep Beep! reverberated over the intercom.

  Gonzo slammed his fist down hard on the mute button.

  Scott opened her eyes to find the NavComputer powering up the ship, bringing the instrumentation and control panels back to life. The NavComputer spoke in a voice which imitated Gonzo and in fact sounded very much like him, only mechanical. “Target one thousand miles down-range. Closing burn commences in T minus sixty seconds and counting.”

  A green All Systems Go message flashed across Scott’s head’s up display. After reviewing Freedom's current position and her course over the last forty-one hours, Scott spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “Freedom's on track.”

  Mac cleared his throat and spoke next. “We’re ready to roll.”

  Gonzo disengaged the NavComputer’s audible voice and spoke. “Scotty, closing burn begins in fifteen seconds.”

  “Roger,” Scott replied. “Autopilot is engaged.”

  “T minus five ... four... three . .. two ... one ... ignition.”

  Hell Fire shuddered.

  Gonzo watched his engine control and fuel flow gauges come to life. They spun up exactly as they were supposed to. “Burn is go, Scotty.”

  For the next several minutes, Scott watched countless pieces of space borne debris streak by her cockpit canopy. Once Hell Fire was free and clear of the junk belt, she breathed a sigh of relief and spoke in a determined voice. “So our chase begins.”

  The Puzzle, 12/24/2014, 0315 Zulu, 8:15 P.M. Mountain

  Standard Time

  Onboard Hell Fire,

  Approaching Out Of The Sun

  Perplexed, Gonzo timed the output from his radar receiver using the clock on his Electronic CounterMeasures (ECM) computer. For a few moments, his mouth was agape. This data was unmistakable. The radar signal from Freedom cycled on for fifty-three seconds then off for seven. This on-again, off-again pattern was totally unexpected. Neither Gonzo or his ECM computer knew what to make of it. He pondered this problem in an effort to understand it. What could it mean? This blinking radar signature wasn’t in the plan and he couldn’t explain it. Was it significant? Probably, although he couldn’t say for sure. Finally, after methodically working through a series of measurements, he raised a red flag to Scott. “I’ve got a big mystery here, Scotty, and I don’t like the looks of it.” Gonzo went on to describe the problem.

  Scott tried to step back and analyze the problem objectively. “We have the go-no-go decision on our rendezvous coming up in three minutes, Gonzo.” Scott spoke with a strained sense of urgency in her voice. “What do you think we should do?” Hell Fire's fuel situation was critical. If all went as planned they had only a few minutes of fuel held in reserve. Once they’d passed their go-no-go point, their decision was go by default. They had insufficient fuel to return.

  Gonzo’s insides tightened into an icy ball. No need to think about his answer. He didn’t like their situation, but the fact was they didn’t have any choice. If they went back to Hope they could never return to Freedom—insufficient fuel. Their situation was a two-edged sword. Return now and face a slow lingering death or go forward and confront God only knows what. Gonzo grimaced and spoke in a grave tone. His mood bordered on the morose. Either alternative was fraught with danger. “Stay the course, Scotty. We’ll understand this once we board Freedom. It may be nothing, but I feel like we missed something.”

  “Then we go.” Scott thought about Gonzo’s mystery for some moments and was at a complete loss to explain it. “We’re on our own with this one, fellas,” Scott sighed. “Pasha, can you and Mac help us out? What could cause this? Take a look at Gonzo’s data and let us know if you can come up with something, anything.” As usual, Hell

  Fire maintained radio silence to avoid revealing her position.

  Mac and Pasha patched into Gonzo’s data and took a look. The pattern didn’t match anything Pasha had ever seen. The on-off pattern didn’t agree with any of their simulations.

  After scrutinizing the data from start to finish, Mac and Pasha looked at one another and shook their heads. Pasha spoke first, carefully crafting his words, using his best English. “No one could help us with this one, Scotty. It’s one for the books. The power-on period looks normal, but I can’t explain why Freedom shuts down during that seven-second window. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Nodding agreement, Mac spoke next. “I can offer one thing, Scotty.” Mac paused and punched up their distance to target. “Quick as we’re in range, I’ll lock Freedom on camera and we’ll take a look-see.”

  “Good,” Scott replied, breathing a sigh of relief. “We’ll feel a lot better with Freedom on screen.”

  The Helix, 1212412014, 0547 Zulu, 10:47 P.M. Mountain

  Standard Time

  Onboard Hell Fire,

  Final Approach

  Once Hell Fire closed within range, a clear image of Freedom suddenly locked on screen. Mac watched the picture acquisition light on his primary camera change quickly from red to green. Satisfied, he started their digital videotape recorder rolling and felt lucky to capture the picture from such a long range. Mac considered rock solid pictures from this distance a remarkable accomplishment because Hell Fire's burning engines caused her to vibrate. Before Mac could react to the picture, Pasha spoke.

  “Holy Mother of God.” He spoke disbelieving, questioning his own eyes. His tone was one of unmitigated dismay.

  Scott blinked. Centered on her TV screen was a clear computer-enhanced image of Freedom, sunny-side up as expected. Trouble was—Freedom was spinning like a colossal top.

  “Damn.” Gonzo spoke bitterly with deep resentment. “That bitch covered her ass.” For the first time he addressed PAM as a person. Suddenly, PAM seemed alive, even loathsome, intangible but very, very real. For a few moments, Gonzo lost his composure, but in his frustration he vented what everyone felt. “That’s all we need. To come this far and for what? What the hell are we gonna do now?”

  During the five minutes which followed the only sound Scott heard over the intercom was breathing.

  Scott laid her head down on her TV screen and shut her eyes to block out all distractions. Resentment swelled within her but emotion wouldn’t solve this problem. Emotions got in the way, impeded clear thought, so she did her level best to suppress them and concentrate. Next problem, she said to herself. What do we know? Her concentration was intense. Sweat beaded and ran off her forehead like rain. What did this rotation mean? The answer was painfully simple. PAM must have sensed her blind spot— the radar dead zone on her red face—and compensated for it by rotating. By spinning like a rotatin
g radar antenna, PAM filled in the hole. Scott opened her eyes and watched Freedom spin. Freedom’s pyramid shape was spinning with her top pointing toward the center of the earth. Scott timed Freedom's revolutions—one complete turn every minute. That explained Freedom's on-again, off-again radar signature. Every time they passed through her dead zone, they could see Freedom's radar signal drop off. That on-off signature was like a heartbeat that marked her period of rotation. It made sense. Their flight plan had them sideslip out of the sun into that dead zone, but the original approach had assumed the red face was stationary. What if we change the flight plan? Fly a helix pattern locked in sync with Freedom v rotation. Yes! Change the approach! There is time. Is there fuel? Gonzo can find out in a hurry. This could be it. It must be.

  Scott raised her head, then looked at her gloved hands.

  They trembled. Her hair stuck to her head like it was matted down with glue, but her eyes were clear.

  “Gonzo, I think I’ve got it.” Scott spoke slowly with a restrained voice, struggling to convey her message in as few words as possible. There was no time for an extended explanation.

  “Shoot.” Gonzo, Mac, and Pasha listened intently, clinging on every word, hoping desperately that she was right.

  “I need hard fuel figures.” Scott paused, struggling to keep her emotions in check. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it. “Change our final approach. Take out the sideslip maneuver and substitute a downward spiraling approach pattern.”

  Gonzo was silent as he struggled to absorb Scott’s request. “You’re serious? A helix? Like the threads on a screw?” Gonzo’s voice was shaky, his feelings unsure.

  “Yes. Pull out the sideslip and plug in the helix.” Scott checked their range to target. Their sideslip maneuver was coming up fast. “We need numbers now.”

  Gonzo collected his thoughts. “Scotty, I don’t understand but I’ll do it.” Gonzo pulled off his gloves and punched up a helix shaped much like that of a coil spring. Once the helix pattern was displayed, he fed it into the NavComputer.

  “Any other constraints on our approach?” asked Gonzo, not knowing what to think.

  “Yes, and this is important.” Scott spoke with a deliberate calmness in her voice. “Synchronize our approach with Freedom's rotation. We spiral in locked over that dead zone.”

  Gonzo’s / got it light went off. His fingers raced over his computer keyboard and his mind soared ahead of his fingers. Fuel, fuel, fuel. Fuel was everything. Seconds later, a set of large red numbers suddenly began flashing on the NavComputer window. “Dammit all,” Gonzo spat, obviously disappointed. “No go. Our tank’s bone-dry ten miles out.” Gonzo paused, collected his thoughts, then continued with less emotion. “That spiral pattern constantly burns the fuel.”

  Scott studied the spiral approach pattern on her TV monitor and decided the idea might be worth another try. “Increase our rate of descent. Set us down hard with no margin.” The words almost stuck in her throat. By definition, zero margin left no room for error or malfunction.

  “I’m with you, Scotty.” Gonzo entered the steep slope solution and waited on the NavComputer’s judgment. The answer came back with a blinking yellow warning. “We’re borderline all the way, Scotty. Absolutely zero margin.”

  “But we’ve got a chance?” Scotty sounded apprehensive.

  “A slim one.” Gonzo knew they had no other alternative. They couldn’t back out without being detected.

  “I think we should take it.”

  “Roger, Scotty.” Gonzo’s fingers raced once again across the NavComputer keyboard. Once their steep spiral approach was entered, each NavComputer and MAP system display began blinking yellow. A flashing yellow display meant zero margin for error; flashing red meant fatal error—insufficient fuel. Gonzo read directly from the NavComputer’s display. “Spiral burn begins in T minus two minutes and counting. Synchronize rotation twenty miles from touchdown.”

  Scott’s heart was pounding as she mentally sorted through a list of what must be done. If all went well, they should make it, but she must assume their approach would not go as planned. She closed her eyes once again to block out the distractions from the cockpit. What if we are detected? What then? After a few moments thought, she began issuing orders like an automaton.

  “Mac, lock your camera on our landing zone. I need a visual reference.

  “Pasha, watch the MAP display and keep your eyes pinned on our approach. If we drift out of the channel, I’ve got to know and fast. Once PAM sees us, we won’t get a second chance.

  “Gonzo, if we go to manual control, launch countermeasures. Everything we’ve got in a full firewall spread.”

  “Roger, Scotty—the works.” As Scott spoke, Gonzo flipped on the countermeasures fire control system and spun up the Electronic CounterMeasures (ECM) pod, chaff and flare rockets. Within seconds, the ECM control panel filled with a bright matrix of lethal green ready launch lights. “Countermeasures armed and ready.” Gonzo stared at the NavComputer countdown timer. His mouth felt dry, but his suit was soaked with sweat. “Spiral burn commences in T minus three .. . two . .. one ... ignition.”

  Scott watched Freedom spinning like a top before them now. She felt Hell Fire's attitude position engines shudder and sensed their approach angle was changing. Hell Fire began sweeping through a wide circular arc but continued closing on Freedom riding down a steep spiraling slope. Within a split second, Hell Fire's wide sweeping motion synchronized with Freedom's rotation, and suddenly Freedom didn’t appear to rotate anymore. Scott smiled slightly. This spiraling approach made her feel like water swirling down the drain.

  “We’re headed down the tubes, Scotty.” Mac spoke with a light chuckle in his voice and articulated Scott’s thoughts exactly. It wasn't the first time one team member spoke the thoughts of another. After working closely together as a team, their minds often shared thoughts, especially in difficult situations. They had learned that they could sometimes communicate without speaking at all. This relationship took years to forge, but when all was said and done, the sum of their combined efforts always exceeded the sum of the parts. Maybe it was because their skills were complementary or maybe it was a combination of love and mutual admiration. They didn’t know why it worked and didn’t care to analyze it. Don’t fix it if it’s not broken, Mac always said. They knew in their hearts they had something special and they weren’t about to let PAM bust up the act.

  Gonzo spoke as he monitored the NavComputer touch-The End of the Beginning down timer and fuel reserves. “T minus two minutes till touchdown. Final braking bum commences in ninety seconds.” There was a sense of restrained tension in his voice. As far as he knew, no one had ever made a three-point landing with zero fuel reserve.

  Freedom was coming up fast. Hell Fire rocketed in a nose down position on a steep sixty-six-degree approach angle. Scott held her breath as she watched their range to target decrease at a near suicide rate. As the autopilot clicked off the final distance, Freedom completely filled the windshield.

  Suddenly, Scott felt Hell Fire shudder and checked the control panel. The orbital maneuvering engines sputtered sporadically as the low fuel light began flashing.

  “Drifting!” Pasha screamed frantically.

  The sputtering thrust from the orbital maneuvering engine hurled Hell Fire out of the channel, creating a position error. Instantly, the NavComputer locked up because of an irreconcilable conflict between available fuel and position. The NavComputer instructed the autopilot to eliminate the position error with a correction burn. The autopilot acknowledged the request and awaited further instructions. Additional instructions never came because there was insufficient fuel for the correction burn.

  Instinctively, Scott grabbed control, disengaged the autopilot, and checked their position on the MAP display screen. When she looked up, her blood ran cold. Hell Fire was already out of the channel, swinging further away with every passing second. There was real danger here— PAM could detect them. No time to punch up an optim
al correction burn, just do it. Scott activated the reaction control thrusters so she could maneuver.

  BeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppH! howled over the intercom. Gonzo’s threat detector emitted its distinctive warble.

  Scott yawed Hell Fire thinking, PAM’s locked on.

  Suddenly, a searing invisible column of laser light flashed above Hell Fire's nose with precious little separation between them. IR detectors pegged off scale as an insane warble racked their ears.

  Immediately, Gonzo ham-fisted the launch button, pounding the control panel so hard the instrument lights blinked like a pinball machine. Flare, chaff, and ECM rockets simultaneously erupted from Hell Fire's, short stubby wings and streaked forward with such an intense flash that Scott instinctively blinked from their release. The reverse thrust from the massive launch nearly stopped Hell Fire in its tracks and hurled the crew forward hard against their shoulder restraints. There were a series of brilliant white flashes which followed as the rockets gim-balled their engines and executed a firewall maneuver. On command, each turned radially outward in different directions, creating a wall of thermal and electrical interference between Freedom and Hell Fire. Gonzo watched the white plumes streak off in the distance and became mesmerized by the spectacle.