by Dale Brown
The woman parked her rental car beside the van, and Tom opened the side door for her. The interior of the van was very well appointed, with a leather couch in back, rear-facing leather captain’s chairs behind the driver’s seat, a television with a satellite receiver and DVD player, and a wet bar. Melissa took one of the captain’s chairs while Tom poured two glasses of bourbon. He handed one to her, then tipped his glass to hers. “Here’s to a pleasant evening, Melissa.”
“It will be,” she said. “But first?”
“Sure,” Tom said. He reached into his jeans, pulled out a money clip, and shook out two hundred-dollar bills.
“Thank you, Tom,” Melissa said, taking a sip of bourbon.
Tom motioned behind him, and it wasn’t until then that the woman noticed a sports camera in the corner, pointed at her. “You don’t mind if I turn on my little camera there, do you, Melissa?” he asked. “I like to keep a souvenir collection.”
The woman hesitated for a moment, a little confusion in her eyes, then gave him her tiny smile. “No, go ahead,” she said. “I like performing in front of cameras.”
“I’ll bet you do, Melissa,” Tom said. He turned, made his way to the camera in back, and pressed the button to turn it on. “I have another one up front that I want to get also.” He turned . . .
. . . and found himself face-to-face with Melissa, looking into her dark, hypnotic eyes. He smiled, admiring her high cheekbones and full red lips. “Hey, baby, I can’t wait either, but let me . . .”
. . . and that’s when the knife plunged through his abdomen, up through his diaphragm, through his lungs, and all the way into his heart. A hand went over his mouth, but he did not cry out—he was dead before he hit the carpet.
The woman pulled the rear sports camera down from its mount, took the money clip, cracked open the side door, saw there were no onlookers, and quickly left the van, got into her own car, and drove away. By the time they found the body, she was hundreds of miles away.
THE WHITE HOUSE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
DAYS LATER
“There it goes,” Vice President Ann Page said. She was in the White House Situation Room with President Kenneth Phoenix; National Security Adviser William Glenbrook; Harold Lee, the undersecretary of defense for space; and Air Force General George Sandstein, commander of Air Force Space Command, watching live video being broadcast from space on the Situation Room’s wall-sized high-definition monitor. They watched in stunned amazement as a large section of the International Space Station separated from the rest of the structure and began to drift away from the ISS. “For the first time in almost twenty years, the International Space Station is vacant,” Ann breathed, “and for the first time ever, there aren’t any Russian components on it.”
“What is being taken away, Ann?” the president asked.
“That is called the Russian Orbital Segment, or ROS, sir,” the vice president replied, not needing to refer to any notes—as an ex-astronaut and aerospace and electronics engineer, she was an expert on all American and American-involved space stations dating back to Skylab. “There are three docking and airlock modules, one docking and storage module, one laboratory, one habitation module, one service module, four solar arrays, and two heat radiators.”
“Any critical modules being taken away? If we sent crews back up there, would they be in any danger?”
“The most important Russian module was Zvezda, or ‘star,’ the service module,” Ann replied. “Zvezda is the large module all the way in the ‘back’ as the station flies, and as such provides attitude and navigation control and is used to boost the station to a higher orbit when necessary. It also produces power, oxygen, and water, among many other critical functions.”
“And now?”
“Zvezda will eventually be replaced by two American modules, the ISS Propulsion Module and the Interim Control Module,” Ann explained. “These two modules were built back about twenty years ago when Zvezda was delayed in construction and were meant to serve as backup control and propulsion systems in case Zvezda failed or was damaged; the Propulsion Module was also designed to deorbit the ISS when the time came.”
“That time might be coming sooner than we expected,” National Security Adviser William Glenbrook commented.
“Both modules have been in storage at the Naval Research Laboratory,” the vice president went on. “When the Russians made the announcement that they were going to take the ROS off the ISS, the NRL initiated functional checks of the two modules. That has just been completed, and now we are just waiting to have the modules mated to a booster and sent to the ISS. The problem with that is that the two modules were built to be transported to the ISS aboard a space shuttle, so some reengineering will have to be done to get them on a rocket. That might take a few more weeks.”
“So that’s why the station had to be abandoned?” the president asked. “They couldn’t make power, water, or oxygen, or control the station?”
“The Harmony module on the ISS can make consumables, but for only two astronauts, not six,” Ann said. “Unmanned and manned spacecraft can resupply the ISS and dock to the ISS to control and boost it higher if necessary, so station control and provisions should not be an issue. For safety reasons, it was decided to evacuate the ISS until the Russians’ de-mating procedure was—” Ann suddenly stopped and was staring at the high-def monitor. “Oh, my Lord! Well well, our Russian friends sure seemed to be very busy over the past several months, haven’t they?”
“What is it?” Phoenix asked.
“This,” Ann said, rising from her seat, going to the screen at the front of the Situation Room, and pointing at a small triangular-shaped object on the screen. “Freeze that,” she ordered, and the computer responded by pausing the live feed. “That, Mr. President, if I’m not mistaken, is a Soviet-era Elektron spaceplane.”
“The Russians have a spaceplane, like the one I flew in?” President Phoenix asked incredulously.
“It’s more akin to a small space shuttle, sir,” Ann explained, “in that it’s carried atop a booster, and then reenters the atmosphere and glides unpowered to a runway. Although it’s smaller than the shuttle and carries only one cosmonaut, its payload is almost twice that of our S-19 spaceplanes, about fifteen thousand pounds. They were armed with guided missiles, specifically designed to hunt down and destroy American satellites and Silver Tower. The plane hasn’t been seen since the Soviet Union collapsed. The Soviets said they were going to build hundreds of them. Maybe they did.” Ann paused, distracted by painful memories of decades past. “I was aboard Armstrong Space Station when the Soviets attacked with three of those bastards. They almost took us out.”
“Did we know they were going to launch a spaceplane, General?” the president asked.
“Not exactly, sir,” Air Force General George Sandstein, commander of Air Force Space Command and deputy commander for space of U.S. Strategic Command, replied. “About three days ago we received a notification of a launch from Plesetsk Cosmodrome Launch Site 41 of a Soyuz-U rocket with an unmanned Progress payload to assist in the ROS de-mating process, sir. Nothing was mentioned about a spaceplane. We tracked the payload and determined it was indeed going into orbit and on course to rendezvous with the ISS, so we classified it as a routine mission.”
“Isn’t it unusual for the Russians to use Plesetsk instead of Baikonur, General?” Ann asked.
“Yes, ma’am—Plesetsk was almost abandoned after the Russians made a deal with Kazakhstan for the continued use of Baikonur,” Sandstein replied. “Plesetsk was mostly used for intercontinental-ballistic-missile tests and other light and medium military projects—” Sandstein stopped, his eyes widened with shock, then he said, “Including the Elektron spaceplane and BOR-5 Buran test articles.”
“Buran?” the president asked.
“The Soviets’ copy of the space shuttle, sir,” Ann said. “Buran was designed from the start as a military program, so test launches of the subscale test articles were fr
om Plesetsk, which is well inside Russia instead of Kazakhstan. The Buran spaceplane itself made only one launch from Baikonur Cosmodrome before the collapse of the Soviet Union, but the mission was highly successful—a completely autonomous unmanned launch, orbit, reentry, and landing. Five Burans were built; one was destroyed, and three were in various states of completion.”
“If the Russians are launching spaceplanes again, this could be the start of a new Russian initiative to push back into space,” Glenbrook said. “They have the ROS, and it’s not going to be attached to a Western space station anymore, so they can do what they want without a lot of close observation. If they are starting to fly Elektrons, they might be gearing up in many more areas, all related to building up their own capabilities as well as countering our own.”
“An arms race in space,” the president said. “Just what we need right now. Aren’t we required to notify the Russians if we’re going to launch a spaceplane into orbit?”
“Yes, sir, and we do, each and every time,” Sandstein replied. “Date and time of launch, initial orbital path, destination, purpose, payload, and date and time of return.”
“We give them all that?”
“Our spaceplanes are much more than orbital spacecraft, sir,” Sandstein explained. “Their flight paths are much more flexible than a launch from an Earth launch pad, as you yourself experienced. To avoid conflict, we agreed to give them information on each flight so they could monitor the flight and react to any unexplained diversions.”
“So the Russians knew I was flying in the spaceplane?”
“We don’t give them that much detail, sir,” Sandstein said with a hint of a smile.
“So we should be getting the same information on the Russian spaceplanes, correct?”
“If we want to reveal that we know about it, sir,” Ann said. “It might be better if we didn’t reveal that we know about Elektron right now. We can assume that they know, but we don’t have to reveal all we know about their activities. Silence is golden.”
President Phoenix nodded—now that the discussion was beginning to move from the military into the geopolitical arena, he needed a different mix of advisers. “What can the Russians do with that section of the space station?”
“All by itself, the ROS is already a fully functioning space station for two or three persons,” Ann said. “They could probably use a few more solar arrays for power, and they don’t have as sophisticated space and Earth sensor systems or communications as the ISS, but they can have other spacecraft dock with it for resupply; it can maneuver, boost itself when it needs to, produce power, water, and oxygen, everything.”
“And they undocked it just because Gryzlov is ticked off at me?” the president remarked. “Unbelievable.”
“Unfortunately, his tactic may work, sir,” National Security Adviser Glenbrook said. “It’s possible that the European Space Agency will undock their Columbus research module rather than risk irritating the Russians—they have had plans to cooperate with Russia on building a presence in space long before they decided to cooperate on the ISS. If they do that, or if the replacement modules we plan on sending up don’t do the job, the Japanese might undock their Kibˉo modules and abandon the project as well. Canada has its remote arms still on the station, but we’re not certain if they’d keep them on ISS if the Russians, ESA, and Japan pulled out.”
“So if all the other ISS partners leave, what are we left with?”
“The ISS is still a very important part of American scientific research, even without Kibˉo, Columbus, or the ROS, sir,” Ann Page said. “We have a huge investment in it already, and we gain tons of knowledge and experience in living and working in space. If we want to eventually go back to the moon or send astronauts to Mars or beyond, the ISS is the best stepping-stone for that. The Japanese in particular have a very extensive scientific research program on the ISS, so I think they would want to keep the ISS aloft for as long as possible until they launch their own station, or partner up with someone else. And the ISS, as well as Armstrong Space Station, would be the best platforms to get your already-announced industrialization-of-space initiative going.”
“Good,” the president said. “I want to speak with the Japanese prime minister and the prime ministers of the European Space Agency countries, and I want to assure them that we are committed to maintaining the ISS and continuing all the work we’re doing, despite the hissy fit the Russians are having.”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Ann said.
“Bill, if the Russians are indeed gearing up to push back into space,” the president said to his national security adviser, “I need to find out what else they are developing, and how much—military, industrial, scientific, everything. I don’t want to be surprised by any more spaceplanes suddenly popping up around our space stations. I’d like an update on all the Russian and Chinese spaceports. The Russians cooperated with the Chinese before, in the Indian Ocean and South China Sea—they might be getting ready to do it again.”
“Yes, sir,” Glenbrook responded.
“General, I need a rundown of all the assets we have to support the ISS and Armstrong Space Station in the light of this de-mating process and a possible Russian push into space, and what we might need and how soon,” the president said to Sandstein. “If there’s going to be an arms race in space, I want to win it.”
“Absolutely, sir,” Sandstein said. The president shook hands with the four-star general and dismissed him.
“Speaking of the space-industrialization initiative,” the president went on after the general had departed, “what’s going on with Armstrong Space Station and our other space projects?”
“On track, Mr. President,” Undersecretary Lee said proudly. “Based on your outline, sir, we have three programs we’re supporting: successful flight testing of the XS-29 Shadow spaceplane, a larger version of the spaceplane you flew in; support for larger commercial rocket boosters to bring larger payloads into space, including some reusable booster technologies; and the first industrial program: installing a solar power plant aboard Armstrong Space Station.”
“A solar power plant?”
“It will collect sunlight, transform it into electricity, and store it,” Lee explained. “When it gets within range of a ground collector, called a rectenna, it will transform the electricity into a form of electromagnetic energy called a maser—a combination of a microwave and laser—and shoot the energy to Earth to the rectenna, which transforms the maser energy back into electricity, then stores the power in giant batteries or puts it into the electrical grid. If what they are planning comes true, in a single four-minute shot—the maximum time it takes for the space station to go from horizon to horizon—they can transmit enough power to supply a remote research facility or village for a week or more.”
“Incredible,” the president remarked. “Well done.”
“And, as you directed, sir,” Lee went on, “the federal government is only providing support in the form of using federal facilities such as national laboratories, launch pads, and computer networks—things that are already being used for other projects. We’re not loaning money to anyone. The companies and universities involved in these programs have to invest themselves big-time, and they are. If they’re successful, they hope to get reimbursed with government contracts to operate the systems they develop.”
“Excellent,” the president said. “Please keep me informed, Mr. Undersecretary.” He stood, shook Lee’s hand, and dismissed him as well, and soon afterward Glenbrook departed. After the two had left, the president said to Ann Page, “Once the video of that Russian section of the ISS separating from the station gets out, Ann, we’re going to take one hell of a shellacking in the press, with a little less than a month to the elections.”
“I’m a little more optimistic, Ken,” Ann said. She knew it was time to take off her vice president’s hat and put on Ken Phoenix’s chief political adviser’s hat, something that she always enjoyed doing very much. “Secretary B
arbeau criticized your space initiative as another Reagan ‘Star Wars’ folly. When the public sees the Russians starting to push back in space, they’ll know that Barbeau is on the wrong side of the issue.”
“I hope so,” Phoenix said, “but it’s been several months since I announced the initiative on board the space station, and so far only the Russians have made good on their promise to take their modules off the ISS. Are any of those space programs going to be available to us to use in the campaign?”
“Absolutely, Ken,” Ann said. “The XS-29 spaceplane has made its first orbital test flight and has already done a mission both to the ISS and Armstrong Space Station. The solar-power-plant project might go online before the election, and we could describe it as another project that Barbeau doesn’t support, is not taxpayer funded, and will be an example of what will wither and die if you are not reelected. The new advanced rocket boosters are not quite as far along, but we could do tours of the assembly buildings and remind the voters about how important those things are.”
“Where are we on the solar power plant?”
“It’s all assembled—they’re just doing last-minute testing and checking,” Ann said. “About a dozen spaceplane missions and one heavy-lift rocket, all assembled by remote control with just two or three spacewalks. It was designed that way from the beginning by a team of college students, supported by scientists and engineers from all over the world . . . led, by the way, by one Bradley James McLanahan.”
“Brad McLanahan?” the president exclaimed. “You’re kidding! Patrick McLanahan’s son? I was sorry for him when he dropped out of the Air Force Academy and when his father was killed—I guess he’s landed on his feet. Good for him.” He paused, thinking hard, then said, “How does this sound, Ann: let’s get Brad McLanahan and maybe one or two others on his team up to Armstrong Space Station.”
