Patrick McLanahan Collection #1

by Dale Brown

  “I think you’ve had enough time, General,” Zevitin said. “The Americans need to see how vulnerable their precious space station and spaceplanes can be. I want that system up and running now.”

  “If I had more engineers and more money, sir, I could finish the three that are in the construction pipeline within a year,” Furzyenko said. He glanced at General Darzov. “But there seems to be a lot of attention being paid to General Darzov’s Molnija project, and I’m afraid our resources are being unduly diverted.”

  “Darzov has made some good arguments for Molnija, General Furzyenko,” Zevitin said.

  “I’m afraid I do not know what Molnija is, Mr. President,” Alexandra Hedrov said. “I assume it’s not a fine watch maker. Is this a new secret weapon program?”

  Zevitin nodded to Andrei Darzov, who stood and began: “Molnija is an air-launched anti-satellite weapon, Madam Minister. It is a prototype weapon only, a combination of the Kh-90 hypersonic cruise missile reprogrammed for extreme high-altitude flight with a combination of rocket-ramjet-rocket propulsion to allow it to fly up to five hundred kilometers above Earth. The system was first developed by the Americans in the 1980s; we had a similar system but canceled it many years ago. The technology has improved greatly since then.”

  “Molnija is a big step backward,” Furzyenko said. “The laser system has proven its worth. Air-launched anti-satellite weapons were rejected years ago because it was unreliable and too easily detected.”

  “With respect, sir, I disagree,” Darzov said. Furzyenko turned to glare at his subordinate, but it was difficult to stare at the man’s rather disturbing wounds, and he was forced to look away. “The problem with a fixed anti-satellite weapon, as was found with the Kavaznya anti-satellite laser, is that it is too easy to attack it, even with numerous and sophisticated anti-aircraft weapon systems protecting it. Even the mobile laser system we developed is vulnerable to attack since it takes so much support and takes so long to set up, fuel, and aim. We saw how quickly the Americans were able to attack the laser site in Iran—luckily, we had time to move the real system and construct a decoy in its place. Molnija can be carried to many air bases in the target’s path and can attack from multiple angles.

  “A single Molnija missile is carried aloft by a MiG-29 fighter or Tupolev-16 light bomber, or two missiles can be carried by a Tupolev-95 or Tupolev-160 heavy bomber,” Darzov went on. “The launch aircraft are maneuvered into position by ground-based or airborne radars and then the missiles are released. Molnija uses a solid rocket motor to boost it to supersonic speed, where it then uses a ramjet engine to accelerate to eight times the speed of sound and climb to target altitude. Once in range of the target, it uses its on-board sensors to track the target and ignites its third-stage rocket motor to begin the intercept. It uses precision thrusters to get within range, then detonates a high-explosive fragmentary warhead. We can also place a nuclear or X-ray laser warhead on the weapon, depending on the size of the target.”

  “X-ray laser? What is that?”

  “An X-ray laser is a device that collects and focuses X-rays from a small nuclear explosion and produces extremely powerful long-range energy beams that can penetrate even heavily shielded spacecraft as far as two hundred kilometers away,” Darzov said. “It is designed to disable spacecraft by scrambling its electronics and guidance systems.”

  “Using nuclear weapons in space will create problems in the international community, General,” Hedrov pointed out.

  “The Americans have had a nuclear reactor flying over Russia for decades, and no one seemed to notice, Alexandra,” Zevitin said bitterly. “The X-ray laser is just one option—we’ll use it only if it’s deemed absolutely necessary.”

  “The nuclear reactor on board the American space station is just for generating power, sir,” Hedrov pointed out. “Yes, the laser has been used as an offensive weapon, but the reactor is thought of differently…”

  “It is still an atomic device,” Zevitin argued, “which is expressly prohibited by treaty—a treaty the Americans casually ignore!”

  “I am in agreement with you, sir,” Hedrov said, “but after the air attacks against the United States using nuclear weapons by President Gryzlov—”

  “Yes, yes, I know…America gets a pass, and the world waits in fear to see what Russia will do next,” Zevitin said, the frustration thick in his voice. “I’m sick of the double standard.” He shook his head, then turned to General Darzov again. “What is the status of the anti-satellite missile program, General? Can we deploy the system or not?”

  “Additional underground tests with the prototype Molnija unit were highly successful,” Darzov went on. “The technicians and engineers want more tests done, but I believe it is ready for battle now, sir. We can make improvements, upgrades, and enhancements for years and make it better, but I think it is ready as is, and I recommend deployment immediately.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” Furzyenko interjected, looking at Minister of National Defense Ostenkov in confusion, “but General Darzov isn’t in charge of Molnija. It’s a secret project that is still being overseen by my research and development bureau.”

  “Not anymore, General,” Zevitin said. “I have tasked General Darzov to develop strategies for dealing with the American space station and spaceplanes. He will report to me and Minister Ostenkov directly.”

  Furzyenko’s mouth opened and closed in confusion, then hardened in sheer anger. “This is an outrage, sir!” he blurted out. “This is an insult! The chief of staff is responsible for organizing, training, and equipping the armed forces, and I should have been informed of this!”

  “You are being informed now, General,” Zevitin said. “Fanar and Molnija belong to Darzov. He will keep me informed of his actions and will make recommendations to the national security bureau, but he takes his orders only from me. The farther outside your chain of command he operates, the better.” Zevitin smiled and nodded knowingly. “A little lesson we’ve learned from our friend General Patrick Shane McLanahan over the years, yes?”

  “I believe the man is obsessive, compulsive, paranoid, and probably schizophrenic, sir,” Darzov said, “but he is also courageous and intelligent—two traits I admire. His unit is extremely effective because it operates with speed and daring with small numbers of highly motivated and energetic forces in command of the latest technological innovations. McLanahan also seems to completely disregard most regulations, normal conventions, and chains of command, and acts precipitously, perhaps even recklessly. Some say he is crazy. All I know is, he gets the job done.”

  “As long as you don’t go off the deep end yourself,” Zevitin warned.

  “Unfortunately I agree with Minister Hedrov, sir: nuclear weapons in space will not be seen as a defensive weapon by the world community,” Minister of National Defense Ostenkov said.

  “The world community looks the other way and shuts its eyes and ears while the Americans orbit a nuclear reactor over their heads and fill the skies with satellites and spaceplanes—I really don’t give a shit about their opinions,” Zevitin said angrily. “The Americans can’t be allowed to freely go in and out of space as they please. Our mobile ground-based laser got one and almost got another of their spaceplanes—we almost took out their entire active fleet. If we can bring down whatever they have left, we can cripple their military space program and possibly give us a chance to catch up again.” He glared at Ostenkov. “Your job is to support the development and fielding of Fanar and Molnija, Ostenkov, not tell me what you think the world will say. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ostenkov said. “The anti-satellite missile is ready for operational testing. It could be the most feared weapon in our arsenal since the Kh-90 hypersonic cruise missile which Gryzlov used successfully to attack the United States. It can be deployed quickly and easily anywhere in the world, faster than a spacecraft can be launched or repositioned in an orbit. We can transport Molnija anywhere and run only a small risk of discovery until it’s fired.”r />
  “And then what?” Orlev asked. “The Americans will retaliate with everything they have. You know they consider space part of their sovereign territory.”

  “That’s why we need to employ Fanar and Molnija carefully—very, very carefully,” Zevitin said. “Their usefulness as weapons depend more on quietly degrading the Americans’ space assets, not trying to outright destroy them. If it’s possible to make it look like their space station, spaceplanes, and satellites are unreliable or wasteful, the Americans will shut them down on their own. This is not an attack plan or a cat-and-mouse game—it’s a game of irritation, of quiet degradation and growing uncertainty. I want to bug the shit out of the Americans.”

  “‘Bug the shit,’ sir?” Orlev asked. “What does this mean?”

  “It means attack the Americans with mosquito bites, not swords,” Zevitin said in Russian this time, not realizing until just then that in his excitement he had switched to English again. “Americans have no tolerance for failure. If it doesn’t work, they’ll scrap it and replace it with something better, even if the malfunction is no fault of theirs. Not only will they scrap something that doesn’t work, but they’ll blame the failure on everyone else, waste billions of dollars indicting someone to take the blame, then spend billions more to try to come up with a solution that is oftentimes inferior to the first.” He smiled, then added, “And the key to this working is President Joseph Gardner.”

  “Naturally, sir—he is the President of the United States,” Orlev remarked, confused.

  “I’m not talking about the office, but of the man himself,” Zevitin said. “He may be the commander-in-chief of the most powerful military force in the world, but the thing he is not in command of is the most important path to success: control of himself.” He looked at the advisers around him and saw mostly blank expressions. “Thank you, all, thank you, that’s all for now,” he said dismissively, reaching for another cigarette.

  Chief of Staff Orlev and Minister of Foreign Affairs Hedrov remained behind; Orlev didn’t even try to suggest to Hedrov that he and the president be allowed to talk privately. “Sir, my impression, one that I share, is that the staff is confused about your intentions,” Orlev said pointedly. “Half of them see you surrendering power to the Americans; the others think you are ready to start a war with them.”

  “Good…that’s good,” Zevitin said, taking a deep drag of his cigarette, then exhaling noisily. “If my advisers leave my office guessing—especially in opposite directions—they don’t have an opportunity to formulate a counterstrategy. Besides, if they’re confused, the Americans certainly should be as well.” Orlev looked worried. “Peter, we can’t yet beat the Americans in a military confrontation—we’d bankrupt this country trying. But we have lots of opportunities to stand in opposition to them and deny them a victory. Gardner is the weak link. He needs to be niggled. Irritate him enough and he’ll turn on even his most trusted advisers and loyal countrymen.” Zevitin thought for a moment, then added, “He needs to be irritated right now. The attack on our fighter…he needs to know how angry we are that they downed our fighter with a low-yield nuclear device.”

  “But…the fighter was not downed,” Orlev reminded him, “and the general said the weapon was not a nuclear T-Ray weapon, but a—”

  “For God’s sake, Peter, we’re not going to tell the Americans what we know, but what we believe,” Zevitin said, irritation in his voice but a smile on his face. “My reports state that they shot down our fighter with a T-Ray nuclear device, without provocation. That is an act of war. Get Gardner on the phone immediately.”

  “Should Minister Hedrov make contact and—?”

  “No, I will make the protest directly with Gardner,” Zevitin said. Orlev nodded and picked up the phone on Zevitin’s desk. “Not the regular phone, Peter. Use the ‘hot line.’ Voice and data both.” The emergency “hot line” between Washington and Moscow had been upgraded after the conflicts of 2004 to allow voice, data, and video communications between the two capitals, as well as teletype and facsimile, and also allowed for more satellite circuits that gave the leaders easier access to one another. “Minister Hedrov, you will file a formal complaint with the United Nations Security Council and the American State Department as well. And I want every media outlet on the planet given a report of the incident immediately.”

  Orlev made the call to the foreign ministry first, then contacted the Kremlin signal officer to open the “hot line” for the president. “Sir, this could backfire,” Orlev warned as he waited for the connection. “Our pilot certainly initiated the attack by firing on the American bomber—”

  “But only after the bomber launched their hypersonic missile,” Zevitin said. “That missile could’ve been headed anywhere. The Americans were clearly the aggressors. The pilot was fully justified in firing his missiles. It turns out he was correct, because the missile the Americans fired into Tehran carried a chemical warhead.”

  “But—”

  “The first reports may be proved inaccurate, Peter,” Zevitin said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t protest this incident now. I believe Gardner will act first and then check out the facts. You wait and see.”

  Alexandra Hedrov looked at Zevitin silently for a long moment; then: “What is this all about, Leonid? Do you just want to harass Gardner? What for? He is not worth the effort. He will more likely self-destruct without you constantly…how did you say, ‘niggled’ him. And certainly you cannot want Russia to align with and support the Iranians. As I said before, they are just as likely to turn on us after they retake their country.”

  “This has absolutely nothing to do with Iran, Alexandra, and everything to do with Russia,” Zevitin said. “Russia will not be encircled and isolated any longer. Gryzlov was a megalomaniac, sure, but because of his insane ideas Russia was feared once more. But in their absolute fear, or pity, the world began to give the United States all it wanted, and that was to encircle and try to squash Russia again. I will not allow that to happen.”

  “But how will deploying these anti-spacecraft weapons accomplish this?”

  “You don’t understand, Alexandra—threatening war against the Americans will only serve to increase their resolve,” Zevitin explained. “Even a spineless fop like Gardner will fight if his back is forced against the wall—at the very least, he’ll turn his junkyard dog McLanahan loose on us, as much as he resents his power and determination.

  “No, we must make the Americans themselves believe they are weak, that they must cooperate and negotiate with Russia to avoid war and disaster,” Zevitin went on. “Gardner’s hatred—and fear—of McLanahan is the key. To make himself look like the brave leader he can never be, I’m hoping Gardner will sacrifice his greatest general, dismantle his most advanced weapon systems, and retreat from important alliances and defensive commitments, all on the altar of international cooperation and world peace.”

  “But why? To what end, Mr. President? Why risk war with the Americans like this?”

  “Because I won’t stand to see Russia encircled,” Zevitin said sharply. “Just look at a damned map, Minister! Every former Warsaw Pact country is a member of the North Atlantic Treaty Organization; almost every former Soviet republic has a NATO or American base of some kind on it.”

  Zevitin went to light up another cigarette, but threw them across his desk in blind anger. “We are wealthy beyond the dreams of our fathers, Alexandra, and yet we can’t spit without the Americans complaining, measuring, analyzing, or intercepting it,” he cried. “If I wake up and see that damned space station shooting across the sky—my Russian sky!—once more, I am going to scream! And if I see another youngster on the streets of Moscow watching an American TV show or listening to Western music because he or she has free Internet access courtesy of the American domination of space, I will kill someone! No more! No more! Russia will not be encircled, and we will not be smothered into submission by their space toys!

  “I want Russian skies cleared of American sp
acecraft, and I want our airwaves cleansed of American transmissions, and I don’t care if I have to start a war in Iran, Turkmenistan, Europe, or in space to do it!”

  ABOARD ARMSTRONG SPACE STATION

  A SHORT TIME LATER

  “Stud Zero-Seven is ready to depart, sir,” Master Sergeant Lukas reported.

  “Thanks, Master Sergeant,” Patrick McLanahan responded. He flipped a switch on his console: “Have a good trip home, Boomer. Let me know how the module release experiments and new re-entry procedure works.”

  “Will do, sir,” Hunter Noble responded. “Feels weird not having you on board flying the jet.”

  “At least you get to pilot it this time, right?”

  “I had to arm-wrestle Frenchy for it, and it was close—but yes, I won,” Boomer said. He got an exasperated glance in his rear-cockpit camera from U.S. Navy Lieutenant Commander Lisette “Frenchy” Moulain, an experienced F/A-18 Hornet combat pilot and NASA space shuttle mission commander and pilot. She had recently qualified to be spacecraft commander of the XR-A9 Black Stallion spaceplane and was always looking for another chance to pilot the bird, but none of her arguments worked this time on Boomer. When Patrick flew to and from the station—which was quite often recently—he usually picked Boomer to be his backseater.

  Minutes later the Black Stallion detached from the docking bay aboard Armstrong Space Station, and Boomer carefully maneuvered the craft away from the station. When they were far enough away, he maneuvered into retrorocket firing position, flying tailfirst. “Countdown checklists complete, we’re in the final automatic countdown hold,” he announced over intercom. “We’re about six hundred miles to touchdown. Ready for this one, Frenchy?”

  “I’ve already reported my checklists are complete, Captain,” Moulain responded.