SpaceCorp (20 page)

“General Farahavi speaking.”

“Omid, this is Hashem. “We have a new opportunity... a possible checkmate.”

C
HAPTER
S
EVENTEEN

May 2071

Secure SatCom Line Tehran to Tupelo

“Senator! General Farahavi here. How can I be of service?”

“Hi, General. We got a new development back here you might want to know about.”

“And what is that, Senator?”

“You sure this line is secure?”

“I can only say it is secure on our end, Senator.”

“Well, I suppose that’ll have to do. Anyway, it looks like our Defense Department has taken an interest in that new space station. Some kind of missile defense system. A laser cannon of some sort.”

“That is interesting. Are you certain they described it as a missile defense system?”

“I don’t have a lot of details, but yeah, I’m telling you they’re planning to mount a missile defense system on their space station.”

“And you’re certain it’s laser-based?”

“Yeah. I got moles all over the Pentagon, and besides, the contractor is in my state.”

“Very well, then. Do you still want us to go ahead with the shoot?”

“Well, yeah, of course I do. But can you still take it out what with that damn cannon they’re fixin’ to mount on it?”

“Perhaps, Senator.”

“
Perhaps
ain’t good enough, General. I gotta have a guarantee.”

“I cannot offer you a guarantee in any case, but can you accept, say, a seventy-five percent probability of a single round hit? That’s as good as it gets with these military weapon systems.”

“Seventy-five percent? Why, that’s a damn crap shoot!”

“I am sorry, Senator. We are a poor third world nation. We do not have the technological sophistication of the United States of America.”

“General, I can’t stake my career, hell—my life, on no piss-ant seventy-five percent! You have to do a heap better than that!”

“Then you have to provide... what did you say, a heap more details, Senator.”

“What kinda details?”

“Aspect angles.”

“What the hell’s that?”

“This space station is shaped like a large disc with a hole in the middle. Because it spins, they won’t mount the laser on the outside—that would put it in the path of incoming debris. They will most likely mount it on the top or bottom. But which one? Top or bottom? And what are its elevation and depression limits? How fast can they slew it? With that kind of information, we might be able to plan a trajectory they would not be able to engage us from.”

“Hmm. Let me get back to you on that.”

An hour later...

“You told him we are only good for seventy-five percent?” Hashem asked. “Omid, surely we can do better than that!”

“Well, we could, Hashem. We could achieve better than ninety-five percent if they didn’t have a missile defense laser. But the reality is that they will have such a cannon and they will likely be able to fire it multiple times and we only have one missile and it has no evasive capability and no sensor jamming capability.”

“So do you think you can hit this target?”

“If I get the technical details I asked for, maybe Dr. Rahmani can work out a trajectory that they will not be able to defend against.”

“This doesn’t sound good. The Supreme Leader will not like it.”

“It’s reality, Hashem. If you want something the Supreme Leader will like, then get me some details. With details, I can find a weakness. Every defensive system has weaknesses. We just have to find this one.”

C
HAPTER
E
IGHTEEN

June 2071

Hangar Deck,
SCS Pelican

Monica had arrived at the meet-and-greet room of the
Pelican
just as the Mack’s passenger pod was anchored to the trolley that would pull it out of the way of the gaping elevator hatch. The pod had detached from its space-only shuttle and the shuttle had sped off on another mission. The hangar deck of Quad IV resembled a railway yard with a network of switching tracks used to jockey the incoming and outgoing pods into position for loading and unloading or just storage while awaiting the next space-only shuttle. The hangar deck was kept in full vacuum and the work done in there was by robots of various form factors and functions. Humans never ventured into the hangar area.

Passenger pods had a special ramp where they attached to airlocks for debarking passengers. Even though the trolleys were held fast to their tracks by special wheels in case the station had to de-spin and lose artificial g, all pods were locked into position with stanchions that kept them from rolling about. The meet-and-greet room had view ports so waiters could see the approaching pods.

She waved vigorously as Mack emerged into the passenger area. Even though Mack still wore his space suit, she squealed as she hugged him. Mack was a big guy but she still lifted him off his feet with her vigorous embrace.

“Well, I see you’ve kept up with your fitness up here!” Mack said.

“C’mon, let’s get you out of this monkey rig. The yo-yo lockers are over here.”

After nearly a hundred trips to space, Mack was still a yo-yo, never having remained on station the requisite three months. Yo-yos’ suit lockers were near the passenger ramp to keep them from having to lug them across the station. Some of the regular crew had two suits, since they were so tedious to wear inside the ship. One suit was stored in their lockers near their escape pods—they were seldom used and everyone wanted to keep them that way. The other suit—the work suit—often got a lot of use depending on your job and was stored near the crewman’s work site. Monica had been crew since April. Accordingly, her escape suit locker was near her cabin in Quad I with most of the rest of the crew. Since she spent a lot of time in the yard, she kept a work suit in a locker in Quad II.

“That’s right, you’re official crew now!”

“Yup, got a private cabin and everything. A whole 3x9 meters!”

Mack’s eyebrows lifted. “A
private
cabin, you say?”

“Uh-huh, private if you don’t mind the three other gals I live with.”

“Oh,” Mack said.

“Don’t worry, I made special arrangements with the watch leader. We… as in you and me and nobody else… get a VIP suite for as long as you’re up here. It’s over in Quad III away from curious eyes. How long are you up here anyway?”

“As long as it takes to get the new LWOC checked out… maybe a week… ten days if we go really slow and thorough.” He tried to suppress a grin.

“Thorough is good. Can’t be too careful with new technology.”

*   *   *

The door to the VIP suite had a push button combination lock. Monica opened it as though she’d been living there for days.

“What’s the combination?” Mack asked.

“1-2-3-4,” Monica said. “Been that way for years.”

The room—a scant 2x3 meters—was a shambles. The bed that ran across the back of the cabin was a regulation 1x2 meters and sported some dingy sheets that hadn’t been changed in weeks but had apparently seen quite a lot of use in the interim. There were used condoms hanging over the edge of the waste receptacle hatch—it was so full it wouldn’t close. There was a drop down desk and a backless jump seat. The surface of the desk had been autographed with initials and various lewd remarks, mostly crude but others bordering on poetic.

“I guess the combination is common knowledge,” Mack said.

Monica’s face was beet-red and she was near to tears. “I’m so sorry, Logan. That fucking Traynor said… I’m gonna kill him! Here, you go check in while I try to clean this up… some.” She picked up a soiled towel from the floor.

Mack removed the towel from her hand and took her in his arms. “I have a better idea. We’ll clean it up together. The watch commander can wait.”

“I’m still gonna kill him.”

“No you’re not. We don’t need to telegraph to the whole crew that the two lovebirds are pissed because the champagne in their honeymoon suite was flat. No, you should message him that the suite is wonderful and you are in his debt. Besides, I’m worried this might be a hint of bigger problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“Change. Not everyone can handle it. Didn’t you say you had problems with Traynor’s Chief Engineer?”

“Yeah, Smitty. I figured he was just being an asshole.”

“Have you been keeping a close eye on algae production?”

“Of course.”

“First-hand knowledge or just reports?”

“Both. There’s more to building a station—especially this one—than just algae farms. Besides I had a heart-to-heart with the three watch leaders and they said with my knowledge of the way to the stars, I could do a lot for morale if I would sit in on a bunch of what they call Dream Meetings.”

“Dream Meetings?”

“Yeah, bunch of little ad hoc groups that get together and talk about the Dream… you know… how we’ll actually get to the stars someday. Lot of good feedback—I’ve sent you reports.”

“Oh those.”

“Haven’t you been reading them?”

“More like a power skim. Sorry, I’ve had a lot on my mind and their ideas—not without merit, mind you—are mostly way ahead of schedule… at least until we get this station launched and in her permanent orbit.”

Monica frowned and looked slightly away.

“Look, I’m sorry, I—”

She put her hand on his and smiled. “No, no. Don’t be. I was just wondering if I was being played.”

“Why would they want to… distract you? The crews had to have had a lot of questions about all these new techniques.”

“They did. Just not so much First Watch. I think they didn’t want to be seen consorting with the enemy.”

“But Second and Third Watch did.”

“Oh, constantly. Hardly got any sleep bouncing from one watch to the next.”

He ran his thumb gently across her upper cheek near the eye lid. “You look tired.”

She took his big hand in hers and held it against her cheek. “I was really looking forward to your being here… so I could spin down a little.”

“How’s Byerly doing?”

“He’s good. Anxious about his LWOC. He said he wanted to meet you at the air lock. I told him no way.” She blushed faintly and would not meet his eyes.

Mack released her to walk around the cramped floor space holding his chin in his hand, his elbow resting in the cup of his other hand.

“I think I’ll meet with Byerly tomorrow. It’s what everyone will expect. I think you should check out the algae farms… quietly… just wander around. If anyone stops you, just say you’re just seeing if anyone has any more questions.”

“Why just the farms? Why not manufacturing and assembly?”

“You’ll get to all of them eventually. We need to keep this quiet. People are used to you up here. Wandering around won’t attract attention. Just do one facility at a time.”

“What am I looking for?”

“You know this process better than anybody. Look for any anomalies you can find. Any variance from spec no matter how insignificant.”

“And if I find one?”

“It will depend on what you find.”

Three days later…

LWOC (Laser Weapon Operations Center),
SSS Albert Einstein

Like every other cabin on the
Einstein
, the icy appearance of the nanocellulose construction made the Laser Weapon Operations Center or LWOC seem like the inside of an igloo. Air temperature was the regulation 22°C and drafts were nominal for a forced air ventilation system, but occupants still complained of chilliness. The back of the cabin was dominated by a large console desk with a single captain’s chair that faced a bank of monitors. Most of the monitors were tied to the array of passive infrared and visual sensors that scanned the skies surrounding the station. Fused into this array were inputs from active radar sensors. Active sensor fusion was a keynote of the design.

The sensor array and monitors compensated for the constant 1.34-RPM rotation needed to produce one g of artificial gravity on the station. Without that feature the Weapons Systems Officer or ‘whizzo’ would feel like he was trying to engage rapidly moving enemy incoming missiles while sitting on a merry-go-round.

“Okay, get ready,” Mack said. “I’m sending you a salvo of three incomings from three different launch sites.”

Jason Byerly was sitting in the captain’s chair in front of the console. “How do I know I need to look for them?”

“You don’t need to look for them,” Monica said. “The system looks for you and does an immediate identification-friend-or-foe or IFF query on any new targets coming into your orbit space. Just watch your central situation monitor. Always key off of that monitor—he’s your best friend up here.”

“Okay, I got three bogeys incoming!” Jason said. “Now what?”

“You are in auto-engage mode,” Mack said. “If you do nothing, the laser will automatically take out all three targets.”

“And the laser will have enough juice to eliminate all three?” Jason asked.

“As long as your laser can keep firing without overheating, the ultra-capacitors can feed it juice for eight shots in quick succession,” Monica said. “If your firing rate is no faster than every ten seconds, you can keep going indefinitely.”

“Okay, here come the bogeys... splash one, splash two, splash three,” Mack said.

“What if one was an incoming shuttle?” Jason asked.

“The IFF will identify it as friendly,” Mack said. “If unidentified, it will be assumed enemy and the laser will work out a firing solution to engage it.”

“That’s why the standard mode is only semi-automatic,” Monica said. “It does everything necessary to engage—deploys the laser, target tracking, firing solution—but stops short of firing until the whizzo—that’s you—okay’s it.”

“That’s good for singleton targets that are not closing too fast,” Mack said. “But when you have multiples coming at you too fast to make individual decisions, you can just switch over to full auto and watch the fireworks.”