Lash-Up
Page 37
Even at this relatively slow speed, he crossed the parched lake bed in just under two minutes and spotted the IP ahead. They’d decided to use one of the rocket-engine test stands just three quarters of a mile to the northwest of Area 1-54. The test stands were almost on the exact same bearing as the launchpad from the news cameras’ perspective; the difference in distance would be imperceptible in the darkness. Turning to the east, he lined up for a straight shot to the orange blinker lights. O’Hara then heard the tower vector the F-16 CAP to the west to “investigate” an unidentified contact. That was the code phrase for the fighter pilots to make a nuisance of themselves with the CNN aircraft loitering just on the other side of the closure-area perimeter.
As he passed Area 1-42 to his left, O’Hara pushed the throttle to full military power. The jet built up speed and quickly passed over a small service building he’d noted on the map. It marked the spot where he had to begin his climb.
O’Hara pulled the nose up sharply, the g-forces pushing him down into his seat. By the time he’d reached the vertical, he was directly over the engine test stand. He hit the afterburner and, an instant later, the “dump” switch on his drop tanks. Fuel and compressed oxygen sprayed out of the extended nozzles on the back of the tanks and was immediately ignited by the jet’s exhaust. The view from the cockpit went from total darkness to a vibrant blue glow. The noise was beyond description.
Accelerating, O’Hara wrestled with the controls, concentrating on keeping the nose straight up, and watched as the altimeter spun wildly upward. Even from his limited viewpoint, he knew he was putting on a damned impressive airshow. Bouncing about in his harness, the Marine knew he’d be sore for the next few days. He could only hope that someone was getting a really decent video.
CNN Urgent Report
0502 hours
December 15, 2017
“FLASH. This is Mark Markin, CNN News, outside Edwards Air Force Base. We’ve just seen a huge flame rising to the west.” Turning to someone off-camera, he shouted, “Is it still there? Get the camera on it!”
Markin’s face was replaced by an intense blue-and-yellowish streak moving against a black background. Jerky camera motion gave the impression of an object at a great distance. The end of the streak flickered and wavered as the “vehicle” climbed skyward. It seemed to be going very fast.
“Less than a minute ago, a bright blue flash appeared in the direction of Area 1-54, the launchpad used by the Defender program. The flash shot up into the sky at terrific speed and is now fading at high altitude.
“Without any official announcement, and presumably to protect the American GPS constellation, Defender has launched.
“I repeat…”
U.S. Space Force Headquarters
Edwards Air Force Base
Battle Management Center
0505 hours
December 15, 2017
General Norman watched CNN’s transmission, grinning. “That’s what you get for peeking over fences,” he joked at Markin’s image. The CNN reporter was rehashing the recent event yet again.
Schultz was listening on his headset and watching Jenny move among the launch controllers. Instead of paying attention to their screens, they read from a paper script. Normally used for training, it drilled the controllers in 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. Because the transmissions were encrypted, it was extraordinarily unlikely anyone would have a clue as to what the launch controllers were saying. But if someone were listening in, they’d pick up the sudden jump in radio traffic, which is exactly what they would be expecting to hear if a spacecraft had indeed been launched.
Gongga Shan
Sichuan Province, China
1710 hours
December 15, 2017
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. “The Americans have launched. It’s all over CNN.”
“What did they show?” Shen asked impatiently, motioning to one of the technicians to bring up the news feed. Along with the rest of the Dragon Mother’s staff, Shen watched the launch and heard Markin’s commentary. The video coverage was impressive, but the flame looked like it had too much yellow in it.
“Time of launch was two minutes after five local, about ten minutes ago,” reported Dong. “We’ve also received word from the Second Bureau of the General Staff of a significant increase in radio traffic from Edwards. It would appear the Americans have launched Defender. We’re calculating the intercept position now.”
“Are you sure, Doctor? Didn’t the flame look a little odd to you? Do we have a good idea of what the exhaust from this new Aerospike engine should look like?”
“General, I appreciate your diligence, but the video from multiple networks showed a deep blue flame indicative of a high-oxygen-combustion process. A number of the videos did show some yellow, but others did not. Combined with radio traffic analysis from our intelligence arm, it argues strongly that the launch has taken place.”
“Very well, Doctor. We’re still seventeen minutes from launch here,” said Shen, checking the time. He could feel a prebattle excitement building inside him. The Americans had moved. Despite all his reservations, the Americans had somehow managed to launch Defender within the timeframe they had set—a most impressive feat.
“I recommend holding your launch until we finish the intercept,” the scientist replied. “I don’t want the staff having to deal with two vehicles attacking two distinct targets 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 your word.”
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 he felt relief instead. The uncertainty that had plagued him was now gone. He really hadn’t expected the Americans to launch their vehicle so soon. It would have a short life.
U.S. Space Force Headquarters
Edwards Air Force Base
Battle Management Center
0530 hours
December 15, 2017
Wrapped up in the launch sequence, Ray was almost irritated when Schultz’s voice came over the communications circuit. “BMC to all stations, SITREP, people,” Schultz announced. Conversation stopped immediately, and the admiral continued, speaking quickly. “We’ve got a launch from mainland China.”
Ray cursed their bad luck. Was their timing off? Intel had firmly assured him that they would be able to launch before the Chinese sent up another ASAT vehicle—maybe by less than an hour, but they needed that time to get into position for an intercept.
Then Ray saw it was from Xichang, south of the Dragon Gun’s location. The thin red line grew slowly, angling east and steadily climbing in a graceful curve. He heard a controller announce, “It’s faster than a Tien Lung.”
“A bigger gun?” wondered Ray amazedly.
“No, that’s one of their space centers,” replied Barnes. “The one that’s been associated with ASAT ops. It has to be a standard booster. But what’s on top?”
While the crew all studied their displays, Schultz explained about the decoy launch and the massive coverage on CNN. “It must have fooled the Chinese as well, and they’ve tipped their hand early.
“We’ll continue with launch preparations while intelligence tries to sort it out. Continue the countdown, T minus fifteen minutes and counting.”
* * *
It was less than five minutes later when Schultz interrupted their preparations again. With only a few minutes until ignition, Ray knew it would be important news. “The launch wa
s from their Xichang space complex, and the telemetry is consistent with a Long March 2F space launch vehicle. That’s one of the rockets they use for manned launches, but it’s moving too fast for a manned spacecraft. We think it has a much smaller payload.”
“Aimed at us, no doubt,” Barnes remarked. “An orbital SAM.”
“Aimed at what they thought was us,” Schultz corrected him. “That fireworks display was more useful than we thought.”
“With that much energy, they may still be able to engage us,” Ray countered.
“And with what?” asked Barnes.
“Probably another Tien Lung,” guessed Ray. “But it could be modified.”
“Nukes?” Barnes didn’t look worried, but some of the other crew did.
“Anything’s possible. We’re at war, remember?”
Schultz asked tersely, “Are we go or no-go? We can hold on the pad.”
“With that thing waiting in orbit for us? No way,” Ray responded. Suddenly he remembered he was on a live mike. Barnes should be the one to answer for the crew. Ray looked at the major and said, “I recommend we go, sir.”
Biff nodded, then looked at the rest of the crew. All were silent, but they all nodded yes.
“They’re still aiming at something that isn’t there. Let’s go now, before they get a chance to regroup. We’re go,” Biff answered firmly.
“Very well, we are go for launch. T minus ten minutes and counting,” commanded Schultz.
* * *
Ray tried to keep himself busy as those last minutes ticked away, but he had a hard time keeping his mind on his display screen. All the checklists had been completed. All systems were operating normally. Everything was proceeding according to plan. There was really nothing to do but sit back and wait. When the count reached T minus 60 seconds, Ray felt his mouth become dry. He was breathing faster, and his heart rate could give a lab rat a run for its money. A bead of sweat ran down his cheek.
He was briefly thinking of opening his visor to wipe the sweat off when the launch controller announced, “Ten, nine, eight, seven…”
Ray saw the indicator light on his panel flash on; the main engines had just lit off. “Main engines start!” he yelled over the sound of the engines.
“Understood,” acknowledged Barnes. Then the whole vehicle began to shake, a little at first, but then growing to a bone-jarring rattle. Defender was taking flight.
Ray barely heard the launch controller say, “Lift off,” and he grasped the arms on his chair tightly. Vibrating in his harness he thought, OH … MY … GOD!
Gongga Shan
Sichuan Province, China
1750 hours
December 15, 2017
General Shen had left the CNN newscast on in the hopes that some additional information on the launch might be added, but after running out of ways to repeat themselves, they’d just started speculating. And while amusing, it wasn’t very useful.
He was in an unusual—in fact, unique—situation. The Dragon’s Egg projectile was ready; it had been for almost ten minutes, but they had not fired. Technicians sat idle, the gun crews crouched in their launch bunkers, and they waited. Xichang was still waiting for Defender to appear on their tracking radars, while the Long March interceptor raced to the best guess of Defender’s future position.
Shen found himself drawn to the CNN channel out of impatience. He needed something for his mind to work on. Much of the material shown was coverage of the war. Most was propaganda, but the coverage was extensive. He’d learned a few things that Beijing would certainly forbid them to discuss …
“FLASH. This is Mark Markin, at Edwards Air Force Base in Southern California.” Markin’s familiar image replaced the physics professor who had been explaining Defender’s engines.
“We have just witnessed another launch from the direction of Area 1-54, the launchpad associated with the Defender spacecraft.” Markin looked and acted rattled and confused.
“The launch that took place just a few minutes ago was louder—indeed, the noise was ‘shattering’—much, much louder than the event earlier this morning. What?”
Markin looked off to the side, then answered, “Good, put it up.”
“Here is an image of the launch taken by a local resident who grabbed his camera when he heard the noise.” The picture showed a dark sky with an angled pure-blue pillar, almost a cone, across two-thirds of the frame. A small arrowhead sat on top of the pillar.
Markin’s voice said, “We’re going to enhance the picture.” A box appeared around the arrowhead, and Shen watched as it expanded, then rippled, and finally sharpened. Individual pixels gave it a jagged look, but he could see swept-back wings and make out clusters of flame at the base.
“Get me Dong!” he shouted to the communications chief, then stared at the image on the screen. “Somebody print that picture out, NOW!” he ordered as the chief handed him a headset.
“Dong! Are you watching it, too? I don’t know what we saw earlier, but this one looks real enough. Yes, yes, we’ll begin final launch preparations immediately.” Shen signed off and blasted out orders to the launch staff to begin the final countdown. As they scurried about, a tight knot formed in the general’s stomach.
24
High Ground, Part I
Defender
0550 hours
The experience of the launch filled Ray’s senses. Every part of him, inside and out, was affected by the unbelievable sound, the intense vibration, and the acceleration that continued seemingly forever.
* * *
Early in their training, there had been time for each of the flight crew, except Steve Skeldon, who was already a pilot, to have one flight in a high-performance jet, with Biff in the front seat, coaching and explaining. He put each of them through a series of high-g turns, both so they could experience the sensation and so the flight surgeon could make sure the crew could tolerate the acceleration of a space launch. “You’ll be lying in your chair, not sitting up, for the launch,” Biff had explained to Ray as he pushed the fighter through another six-g arc. To Ray, the world seemed to be taking on a red tinge, and his vision was blurred.
“Lying down is the best way to handle acceleration, so we won’t have to worry about red-out,” Biff explained. “It will feel like there’s a giant on your chest, but your body will do what’s needed. Just take shallow breaths.”
After they landed, Ray was almost too tired to climb out of the cockpit. “Maybe now you won’t whine about the weight training,” Barnes teased as he helped Ray down the ladder. “Your body is going to be pummeled in ways it has never experienced before and was never designed to handle. The best way to cope is to be in top physical condition, like me,” he said, smiling broadly and striking a bodybuilder pose.
That had been right after Ray had been picked to be part of the crew, and the experience had stuck with him, not only as a motivator for the physical training but also as a question in the corner of his mind: What will it be like?
* * *
Ray watched the timer slowly tick off the launch burn, one slow second at a time. To throw the Chinese off, and make it as difficult as possible for them to do anything during their ascent, Barnes opted for the equivalent of a “combat takeoff,” which meant a four-g burn for seven minutes. They could have gone up even more quickly; Defender’s two Aerospike engines had the smash for four and a half g’s, but they’d have less fuel when they reached orbit, and they would need that fuel to maneuver.
Four g’s felt like plenty, especially when it lasted not just for a short turn in an aircraft but for four hundred and twenty continuous seconds. One corner of Ray’s mind said something about “time dilation,” but the acceleration pushing him down was much more immediate. He found himself wanting to take a deep breath, in spite of Biff’s advice, and fought the urge. The suit provided all the oxygen he needed. He forced himself to relax, to accept the increased sensation of weight.
A controller built into the chair’s armrest let him scro
ll through the displays and operate the controls, but just moving a finger on top of the selector button required a deliberate effort. Still, he was the flight engineer, and he methodically stepped though the screens, watching for trouble. It helped pass the time.
Biff watched the crew, checking each member for signs of g-loc: gravity-induced loss of consciousness. He didn’t expect anyone would have that much trouble during the ascent, but it wasn’t wise to make such an assumption—the majority of the crew hadn’t gone through the full-up astronaut training, and their acceleration was faster than a traditional shuttle launch. Turning his head to look over his shoulder to check on Ray was more than a little unpleasant. Barnes had forgotten just how much he hated the continuous acceleration. The physical sensation was not new to him, of course, but his mind was also filled with the responsibility he held—mission commander. He tried to take comfort in his training as an astronaut and combat pilot, but the rules were different. All the rules. Not just the acceleration, but sensors and weapons as well. He’d drilled himself mercilessly in the simulators, never sure if it was enough. Now he’d find out. At least he didn’t have to pull lead.
Ray focused on the board, letting his body do unconsciously what he couldn’t tell it to. All the systems were working well, although they’d have to deploy the sensors to really check them out. They’d traded payload for time and overengineered the shock mountings. He had a feeling that would pay off.
Engine cutoff was a bigger surprise than the acceleration. The sudden absence of weight wasn’t obvious from inside the cockpit. There was no loose gear to float in midair, and of course they were firmly strapped in, so nobody rose out of their chair. But it still was easy to tell. Ray’s inner ear told him, in a high, panicky voice, that they were falling, that it was a long fall, that the sudden stop would be painful …