“Very pretty,” Woods said. “Too bad NASA isn’t broadcasting your performance in prime time.”
Seedeck didn’t care. There was only one word to describe this feeling— ecstasy. Without a tether line, he was another planetary body in the solar system, orbiting the Sun just like the planets, asteroids, comets, and other satellites around him. He was subject to the same laws, the same divine guiding force as they were.
Seedeck floated for a few moments before bringing his thoughts back to the business at hand. He spotted his objective immediately.
“Inventory in sight, Atlantis. Beginning translation.”
They weren’t allowed to call it anything but “the inventory” on an open radio channel. The Atlantis had been parked about six hundred meters away from the huge object, the closest they were allowed to approach it—it would be a short translation, jargon for space-walk, over to it. Seedeck opened a bin in the center of the right side of the cargo bay and extracted the end of a steel cable from its reel mounted on the cargo bay walls, attached the cable to a ring on the left side of his MMU, then maneuvered back into open space and headed for the object floating in the distance.
It was the first time Seedeck had seen it, except of course for photographs and mock-ups. It was a huge steel square, resembling some sort of massive pop-art decoration suspended in space. Each side of the square was a hundred-foot-long, fifteen-foot-square tube. One large rectangular radar antenna, two thousand square feet in area, was mounted on each of two opposite sides of the square, pointing earthward. Mounted on one of the other two sides of the square were two smaller data-transmission dish antennas, one pointing earthward, the other pointing spaceward. On the remaining side was an eighteen-inch diameter cylinder twelve feet long with a large glass eye at one end, also pointing to Earth. Enclosed within heavily armored containers on the four sides of the square were fuel cells, rocket fuel tanks, fuel lines, and other connectors and control units running throughout the steel frame.
Mounted in the center of the square was a huge cylinder, seventy feet in diameter and thirty feet long, armored and covered in shiny aluminum—Atlantis had to move its position now and then to keep the brilliant reflection of the sun from ruining its cameras. The spaceward end was closed, but the earthward side had a removable armor cover that revealed five fifteen-foot-diameter tubes, earthlight reflecting around the shining, polished walls inside, all empty.
This was Ice Fortress.
In all the articles, presentations, and drawings, it looked like a Rube Goldberg tinker-toy contraption, but out here in position it looked awesome and as mean as hell. The two large radar antennas, Seedeck knew, were target-tracking radars searching for sea- or land-launched intercontinental ballistic missiles. The smaller dish antennas were data-link antennas, one for transmitting steering signals from the platform, the other for receiving target tracking data from surveillance satellites at higher orbits around earth. The large cylinder with the glass eye was an infrared detector and tracker designed to search and follow the exhaust of an ICBM in the boost phase. The radars could track warhead carriers, “busses,” in the midphase or even individual reentering warheads as they plunged through the atmosphere, and it could even differentiate between decoy warheads and the real thing.
The large center cylinder was the “projectile” container, which housed the launch tubes for Ice Fortress' weapons. The entire station was armored in heat-resistant carbon-carbon steel, and smooth surfaces and critical components like the missile cylinder covers and fuel tanks were also covered in reflective aluminum film. Seedeck had heard rumors about all these strange additions to Ice Fortress, but that wasn’t his concern.
Seedeck’s job today was to make Ice Fortress operational for the first time.
The station was almost a military unit unto itself, Seedeck thought as he completed his inspection of Ice Fortress. The station received missile- launch detection information from orbiting surveillance satellites that would tell Ice Fortress where to look for the missiles. The station could' use either its radars or its heat-sensing infrared detectors to locate and track the rockets as they rose through the atmosphere. Ice Fortress would then launch its “projectiles” against ICBMs heading toward North America.
Projectiles. Weird name for Ice Fortress weapons, Seedeck thought. Ice Fortress carried five X-ray laser satellites. The satellites consisted of a main reaction chamber and fifteen lead pulse rods encasing a zinc lasing wire surrounding it, like knitting needles in a ball of yarn. The reaction chamber was, in essence, a twenty kiloton uranium bomb—roughly equal to the destructive power of the first atom bomb that exploded over Hiroshima.
Ice Fortress sensors would track any attacking intercontinental ballistic missiles and eject the X-ray laser satellites toward them. When the satellite approached the missiles, Ice Fortress would detonate the nuclear warhead within the satellite. The nuclear explosion would create a massive wave of X-rays that would be focused and concentrated through the pulse rods. The X-ray energy would create an extremely powerful laser burst that would travel down the rods and out in all directions. Any object within a hundred miles of the satellite would be bombarded into oblivion in milliseconds. The explosion, would, of course, destroy the satellite, but the awesome power of the X-ray laser blast would decimate dozens, perhaps hundreds, of ICBMs or warheads at one time—a very potent and, if nothing else, cost-effective device.
Seedeck knew a lot about the X-ray laser satellites that would be used with Ice Fortress—the Atlantis carried five of them in her cargo bay, and it would be Seedeck’s job to load them into the launch cylinder on Ice Fortress.
Seedeck now attached the cable to the front of the central launch cylinder and turned back toward Atlantis. While Seedeck had been inspecting Ice Fortress, Bates had been putting on his own spacesuit and was just emerging from the airlock when Seedeck completed his inspection.
“Seedeck to Atlantis. The inventory appears OK. No damage. We’ll be ready to proceed at any time.”
“Copy,” Woods replied.
“This is Bates. I copy.” Bates had moved into Atlantis' cargo bay and had begun to unlock the canisters containing the partially disassembled Ice Fortress satellites. His job would be to remove the mountains of packing material from the satellites, then reassemble the component parts. It would not become an actual nuclear device until reassembly, and it would not even be possible to arm it until it was installed in its launch tube on Ice Fortress.
Meanwhile, Seedeck had returned to Atlantis. He maneuvered over to the cable reel and activated its motor, tightening the cable. He doublechecked the controls. To avoid breaking the cable, a friction clutch device would keep the cable tight during small shifts in distance or motion between Atlantis and Ice Fortress and an emergency disconnect button would open the pawl on Ice Fortress and release the cable. The release could be activated by Bates from the cargo bay, by Seedeck from Ice Fortress, or by Woods inside Atlantis. Seedeck then attached a plastic saddle onto the cable that rode along it on a Teflon track.
“Guide ready, Atlantis, ” Seedeck reported. He carefully maneuvered closer above Bates, who was putting the finishing touches on the first X-ray laser satellite. The satellite, its lead-zinc rods folded along its sides, was well over ten feet in diameter and, at least on earth, weighed over a ton; Bates handled the massive object like a beachball.
“Ready,” Bates said, and unhooked the remaining strap holding the huge satellite from its stowage cradle in the cargo bay. Using a hydraulic lift on the cradle, Bates raised the cradle a few inches, then suddenly stopped it. The satellite continued to float up out of the cargo bay and right into Seedeck’s waiting arms.
Seedeck grabbed a handhold on the satellite and steered it easily toward the saddle. As if he had been doing this procedure all his life, he expertly clamped the cylindrical satellite onto the saddle and steadied it along the cable. Although the satellite was weightless, Seedeck was careful not to forget that the thing still had two thousand pounds
’ worth of mass to corral—it was hard to get it to stop moving once it got going. He attached a safety line between the saddle and the satellite, and the satellite was secured.
“Heading toward the inventory with number one/’ Seedeck reported. Despite himself, Bates had to chuckle at the sight. Seedeck had maneuvered over the satellite and had sat down on top of it, as if he were sitting on a huge tom-tom drum. He was gripping the satellite with his boots and knees, riding atop five hundred pounds of high explosives and ninety-eight pounds of uranium. One tiny nudge on his right-hand MMU control, and he and the satellite slid along the two-thousand-foot-long cable toward Ice Fortress.
It turned out to be a very efficient way of getting the X-ray laser satellite to the platform. In two minutes, Seedeck and his mount eased their way toward Ice Fortress, carefully slowing to a stop with gradual spurts of the MMU’s nitrogen-gas thrusters. As Woods and the crew of Atlantis watched through telephoto closed-circuit cameras, Seedeck jetted away from the satellite, maneuvered underneath it, unhooked the safety strap and latch, and slid the satellite away from the saddle. Seedeck gave the saddle a push, and it skittered back down the cable to Atlantis.
Using a set of utility arms mounted on the MMU, Seedeck guided the satellite toward the open center launcher. With the ease acquired from several days practicing the maneuver in the huge NASA training pool in Texas, Seedeck guided the device straight into the launcher. Once the laser satellite was inserted a few feet into the tube, a pair of fingerlike clips latched onto the satellite and pulled it back into the tube. Seedeck waited until he felt a faint CLICK as the unobtrusive yet frightening device seated itself against the arming plate at the back of the tube.
‘Atlantis, this is Seedeck. Confirm number one latched into position.”
“Stand by,” Woods told him. He relayed the request to Mission Control. The answer came back a few moments later.
“Seedeck, this is Atlantis. Control confirms number one in position.”
“Roger, Atlantis. Returning to Orbiter.”
It took Seedeck two minutes to return to Atlantis’ cargo bay, where Bates had another satellite ready for him. The saddle had slid the two thousand feet all the way back to Atlantis with Seedeck’s one little push.
“Seedeck is back in the bay, Admiral,” Bates reported.
“Copy. Stand by.” Woods relayed to Houston that no one was near Ice Fortress.
A few minutes later Woods reported: “Control reports full connectivity. The inventory is on-line. Good job, Rich. You’re hustling out there.”
Seedeck nodded as Bates gave him a thumbs-up. The Ice Fortress was now operational. It was America’s first strategic defense device, the first of the “Star Wars” weapons—and the first time nuclear weapons had been placed in orbit around the Earth.
“Forty-five minutes from start to finish each,” Seedeck said, “should be done by dinnertime.”
“It’s my turn to cook,” Admiral Woods said. “Thermostabilized beef with barbecue sauce, rehydratable cauliflower with cheese, irradiated green beans with mushrooms. Yum.”
“I ordered the quarter-pounder with cheese, Admiral,” Seedeck protested. Bates was smiling as he watched the navy commander maneuver the second X-ray laser satellite onto the saddle. Moments later, Seedeck was riding along the cable toward the menacing latticework square in the distance.
“That’s the one thing I miss up here,” Bates said as he turned back toward unpacking and reassembling the next satellite.
Bates noticed the first light, a bright deep flash of orange that illuminated everything. It got brighter and brighter until it flooded out his eyesight, then turned to bright white. It was as if Seedeck had come back and pushed him in the side, rolling him over, or as if Seedeck had slid the saddle back along the cable and it had come back and hit him in the backpack. Bates wasn’t wearing a MMU, but he was secured to the forward bulkhead of Atlantis above the airlock hatch by his tether. There was no sound, no trace of anything actually wrong. It felt. . . playful, in a way. It was easy to forget you were in space. The work was so easy, everything was so quiet. It felt playful—
Bates spun upside down and slammed against the left forward corner of the cargo bay. Some invisible hand held him pinned against the bulkhead. The only sound he heard was a hiss over his headset. He tried to blink away the stars that squeezed across his vision.
He opened his eyes. Seedeck and the second X-ray laser satellite were gone.
‘Atlantis, this is Bates ...” Nothing. Only a hiss. He found it hard to breathe. The pressure wasn’t hurting him, only squeezing him tight—like a strong hug . . .
“Atlantis. . . ?”
“Seedeck. Rich, answer.” It was Woods. The hiss had subsided, replaced by Admiral Woods on the command radio.
“Atlantis, this is Bates. What’s wrong? What—?”
An even brighter flash of light, a massive globe of red-orange light that seemed to dull even the brilliant glow of the Earth itself. Bates opened his eyes, and a cry forced itself to his lips.
A brilliant shaft of light a dozen feet in diameter appeared from nowhere. It was as if someone had drawn a thick line of light from Earth across to Ice Fortress. The silvery surface of Ice Fortress' armor seemed to take on the same weird red-orange glow, then the beam of light disappeared.
A split-second later a terrific explosion erupted from the open end of the launch cylinder aboard Ice Fortress. A tongue of fire several yards long spit from the earthward side of the station. Sparks and arcs of electricity sputtered from one of the spindly sides, and Ice Fortress started a slow, lazy roll backward, sending showers of sparks and debris flying in all directions. Bates ducked as the cable connecting Atlantis to the space station snapped back and hit the forward bulkhead of the cargo bay.
Bates’ voice was a scream. “Commander Seedeck. Oh, God ...”
“Mission Control, this is Atlantis ...” Bates heard Admiral Woods’ report. “We have lost Ice Fortress. Repeat, we have lost Ice Fortress. Bright orange light, then massive explosion. One crewman missing.”
“This is Bates. What’s—?”
“Bates, this is Admiral Woods. Where are you? You all right?”
Bates reached up with his left hand for one of the handholds on the forward bulkhead, found that the pressure was all but gone.
“I fell into the cargo bay. I’m okay—” Just then a sword of pain stabbed into his skull and he cried out into the open communications panel.
“Bates . . . ?”
Bates looked down. The lower part of his left leg was sticking out at a peculiar angle from his body.
“Oh God ... I think I broke my leg.”
“Can you make it to the airlock?”
“Admiral, this is Connors. I can suit up and—”
“Not if you haven’t been pre-breathing,” Woods told him. “Everyone, make a fast station check, report any damage, then get on the cameras. Find Seedeck. Connors, Matsumo, get a POS and start pre-breathing. Bates, can you make it back to the airlock?”
Bates grabbed the handhold. He expected a tough time hauling himself upright but suddenly found he had to keep from flinging himself up out of the cargo bay in his weightless condition. Slowly, he began to haul himself back toward the airlock hatch.
“Bates, what happened out there?”
“God, it looked like . . . like one of the damn projectiles detonated,” Bates said as he crawled for the airlock. The X-ray laser satellites had numerous safety devices to prevent an accidental nuclear detonation, but the reaction chamber needed a big explosion to start the atomic chain reaction, and those explosives had no safety devices. Something, some massive burst of energy, had set off the five hundred pounds of high explosives in the satellite’s reaction chamber.
Just as he safely reached the airlock, Bates looked back to Ice Fortress. It took him a moment to spot it again, several hundred yards from where it had been a few moments before. It was lazily, almost playfully spinning away, its radars and antennae a
nd electronic eyes and spindly arms flopping about as if it was waving goodbye. Occasionally a shower of sparks erupted from its surface. And a trail of debris hovered in its wake, as if it were dropping crumbs on the trail to help find its way back . . . Commander Richard Seedeck left nothing. Nothing was left of him.
15 Washington, D.C.
The President examined a large wall-sized chart projected on the rear wall of the White House Situation Room. He ran a finger over the black line, making sure it ran right through Kavaznya. The line wasn’t quite straight—drawn by a computer, the Great Circle course was a series of straight lines representing dozens of heading changes. But it was the shortest distance, the President knew, to an encounter that now seemed unavoidable.
General Wilbur Curtis and his aide stood behind their chairs watching the President. Curtis knew that the President was looking at something no other American president had ever seen—a chart of an actual peacetime attack plan against the Soviet Union. Even though hundreds of such plans existed, none had ever been presented to the President for his direct approval.
After quickly examining the chart, the President took his seat at the head of the oval table. Curtis kept watching the President as the other advisers all took their seats after him. Dark rings had formed around the President’s eyes, he was noticeably thinner, and his shoulders drooped.
Well, it was a terrible strain on all of them, because this young President relied so heavily on his advisors in foreign affairs. He was extremely effective when it came to domestic problems and he was immensely popular at home, but overseas it was a different matter. He and his Cabinet had tried to convince the world that the Soviet Union was threatening the United States, trying to provoke a conflict—but few believed him, mostly because they were afraid to find out it was the truth. The consequences of that were too scary. The war of words had reduced Secretary of State Marshall Brent as well. His usual polish and spirit were noticeably dimmed.
Brown, Dale - Patrick McLanahan 01 Page 20
