Lash-Up

by Larry Bond

  “Good.” Schultz got up and called over to Ray. “I want you in this conversation as well.”

  Major General Elliot Baum was commander of the 412th Test Wing, the biggest of the dozens of units scattered across the desert base. Balding, with sharp features and glasses, he was seated at his desk. Another general within the camera’s scope was seated at his side.

  “Good morning Admiral Schultz, sir. Welcome to Edwards Air Force Base. May I introduce you to my deputy, General Hayes?”

  “Good morning to both of you,” Schultz replied warmly. “This is Ray McConnell, technical director for the Defender project.”

  Baum said, “I’ve just finished a conversation with General Warner and General Hughes, Commander of the Air Force Test Center and my immediate boss. That followed a call from Secretary Peck.” Baum looked a little flustered. “I’m still not sure I heard them correctly.”

  “Is there anyone else present in your office, General?” Schultz asked sharply. “Is this link secure?”

  The air force general answered quickly, “Yes, sir.” Ray noticed that Schultz’s new four stars were already proving their worth.

  “The link is encrypted, and only myself and General Hayes were briefed about your … project.”

  Ray made a note on his pad: “Security Staff.”

  “The Defender program is intended to stop the Chinese attacks on our GPS constellation. I’m sure both Secretary Peck and General Warner explained that.”

  Baum straightened up a little in his chair. “Yes, sir, they did, and we’re behind you one hundred percent. But how? They said seventy days. I may have misheard. Is that when your command will stand up?”

  “No, General, that is when we will launch. I’ll be establishing my headquarters on your base, along with the construction effort and the launch-support facilities. The center of the effort will of course be Area 1-54, where the launchpad is located. We will need housing and messing facilities for several hundred people, as well as a large hangar and working spaces, all within a high-security perimeter.”

  “Several hundred!” Baum exclaimed.

  “To start with,” Schultz commented. “Defender won’t build herself. They’ll start arriving tomorrow.”

  Ray made another note: “Personnel in-processing, orientation.”

  “Tomorrow?” Baum repeated.

  “And we need them to be productive the minute they get there.” Schultz glanced at his watch. “We’ll be on the ground in a little over four hours. At thirteen hundred your time, we need to meet with your facility manager and your security officer, as well as your wing’s technical director.”

  General Baum nodded soberly. “They’ll be there, along with General Hayes and myself. Is there an official legend for the facility yet?”

  “The cover story is that we are a new joint program, which will explain the different uniforms and civilians at the base. The VentureStar prototype is being adapted to serve as a rapid reusable transport for a new generation of survivable GPS satellites, designed to replace the ones shot down by the Chinese.”

  Ray made another note: “Intelligence. Misinformation manager.”

  “Understood, Admiral. If there’s nothing else, we’ll start preparing for your arrival.”

  “Very well, General. We will see you in a few hours.” Schultz nodded to the tech aboard the plane, who broke the link.

  The admiral shook his head. “We’re going to have trouble with those two. We’re going to suck up all their scarce resources and mess up their plans. Let’s hope you do better with Lockheed Martin.”

  “Me?” Ray answered.

  “They’re engineers, just like you; you speak their language. I can’t do all the work.”

  Air Force Plant 42, Site 10

  Lockheed Martin Advanced Development Programs

  Palmdale, CA

  October 8, 2017

  George Romans hurriedly turned over his smartphone and tablet to the security guards. One said, “Mr. Weber’s already up on the VTC channel,” and Romans nodded wordlessly as he signed the clipboard and noted the time.

  The other guard punched the door combination and pulled it open. The door was labeled SCIF 3 under a large decal of a cute-looking skunk.

  Inside, the room’s familiar office furniture clashed with the bare metal walls. Sounds echoed despite the rubber mats on the floor. Surrounded completely by metal, the Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility would prevent any electronic eavesdropping. It was one of many at the Skunk Works site, which made sense considering how many compartmented programs the company was involved in.

  While others were spacious enough for a dozen or more offices and workspaces, this room was small and set up for teleconferences. Several chairs at a long table faced two flat-screen monitors on the wall. Another small table held a coffeemaker, but clutter in the room was kept to a minimum. Fewer places to hide eavesdropping devices.

  George Romans, the head of Lockheed Martin’s Advanced Development Programs, or the famous “Skunk Works,” nodded to his boss, Henry Weber, Vice President of Lockheed Martin Aeronautics, at his headquarters in Fort Worth, Texas. “The call’s set up for ten hundred central time. They’re still in the air,” Weber reported.

  Romans sat down heavily in one of the chairs, his breathing labored. A little overweight, he’d hurried from another plant after receiving a surprising phone call from the company president.

  “Sorry for being late. I was out of the building when I got the call. We were supposed to link up after you arrived. Should I make the connection?” Romans asked.

  “Not yet,” Weber ordered. “I just want to confirm that you got the same call from President Markwith that I did. New classified DoD program, restarting and arming the VentureStar prototype.”

  Roman nodded and held up a copy of the Defender file. “That’s what I got, too, along with high priority, and that the DoD had already paid five hundred million this morning to take over the program.” He sounded unsure of his facts, as if he’d heard them wrong.

  “That more than pays for the money we’ve invested in the VentureStar project,” Weber confirmed. “Boom, and it’s a major DoD program.”

  “But is it the same thing that’s been circulating on SIPRNET? They can’t be serious.”

  “Five hundred million says they’re serious, or crazy. For that kind of money, we make the call and hear what they’ve got to say.”

  “Do you have any guidance for me before we call?”

  “No, George, you know the drill. Besides, guidance would imply that we knew what was going on. All we can do is avoid the obvious pitfalls and hope for the best.”

  Romans tapped a key on a laptop computer and spoke into a microphone. “This is Lockheed Martin Skunk Works. We’re ready on our end.”

  The second flat screen came alive, replacing the Lock Mart star logo with the image of two men sitting in an aircraft cabin. An older, balding man wore the uniform of a U.S. Navy full admiral; the other was a civilian, maybe in his early forties.

  The civilian said, “I’m Ray McConnell, technical director for the Defender project, and this is Admiral Schultz, our commanding officer.”

  Romans hid his surprise. Technical director? McConnell’s name was all over the Defender file. It was the same idea. While Weber was making the introduction from Fort Worth, Romans tried to mentally shift everything he’d read in the document from the “wacky” drawer to the one labeled “new job.” It was difficult.

  Ray said, “We were hoping Mr. Hugh Dawson would be with you. He’s the most senior name we could find associated with the VentureStar program.”

  Weber gestured to Romans to field the question. The engineer answered. “That project ended before I became head of the Advanced Development Programs, but personnel found him quickly. He’s still with us, and is the director of a compartmented project here at the Palmdale facility.”

  Weber continued. “They’re approaching an important milestone, and I thought we could have this meeti
ng first to see whether he’s really needed for this new program.”

  Ray answered instantly. “It’s vital that we have him. Speed is everything, and his knowledge will save us weeks, at least.”

  “And it will cost us at least that much time if we take him away from the work he’s now doing. That means a delayed milestone and an unhappy customer, who is also a part of the DoD. Will your program pay the penalties Lockheed Martin would suffer for a late delivery?”

  “The call from Secretary Peck to Mr. Markwith should have included that this program has the highest priority within the DoD,” injected Admiral Schultz.

  “High-priority programs are a specialty of the Advanced Development Programs,” Romans answered smugly. “Maybe you’ve heard of the F-22, or the F-35? How about the U-2 or the SR-71?”

  “Don’t patronize us,” Ray snapped. “We need Mr. Dawson immediately. We have a meeting at thirteen hundred with General Baum and his people. We’d like you and Mr. Dawson to be there, plus anyone else you think would be helpful in restarting VentureStar.”

  “That won’t be possible,” responded Weber. Hugh Dawson is on travel, and we’ll have to get him back. The earliest we could meet would be late tomorrow morning, perhaps later. It all depends on when we can get him a flight. But as far as moving him from his current assignment, you haven’t explained why his expertise is so necessary.”

  “As I said earlier,” Ray replied carefully, “his knowledge of the program will save time. We need every edge we can get if we’re going to launch on schedule.”

  “That’s another thing,” Weber said. “This schedule you’ve sent is completely unrealistic. I’m not sure we can get the vehicle out of mothballs in less than a month.”

  “We will do it in much less than a month, Mr. Weber,” Ray replied. “You are the legendary Skunk Works. Does anyone there still have a copy of Kelly Johnson’s rules?”

  Romans bristled. “I do, and so do a lot of other people here. But Lockheed Martin officially stopped calling my shop the Skunk Works back in 1999, shortly after the VentureStar program was canceled.”

  “I grew up with those rules,” Ray explained, “and you’d better dust them off.”

  Admiral Schultz saw the defiant looks on the faces of the Lockheed Martin executives. “Mr. Romans, can you tell me which program Mr. Dawson is working on?”

  “As I said, sir, it’s a compartmented black project.”

  “I’m very familiar with them,” Schultz replied coldly. “What’s the unclassified label?” While the actual code name of the project was itself classified, every “black” program had one or more “white” labels that could be used in administrative documents.

  Romans looked at Weber, who returned his gaze and shrugged. Busted. “The unclassified label for the program is Baseboard.”

  Schultz nodded. “I’ll make inquiries about the project and its utility in the current circumstances. I’d think you’d be more eager to stop the Chinese. After all, Lockheed Martin builds the GPS satellites.”

  “I’m all for stopping the Chinese, Admiral,” Weber responded, “but there are rules to follow, people I’m accountable to.”

  “Rules can be changed or waived,” Schultz answered. “Please use all deliberate speed, especially when we’re just beginning. Time saved now will be multiplied manyfold in a few weeks.”

  Schultz gestured to someone off screen, and the display went dark.

  Romans let the silence last for almost a minute, since his boss seemed completely self-absorbed. Finally, he asked tentatively, “Should I get Hugh Dawson?”

  Weber quickly answered. “Yes, get Dawson back, and make arrangements for a car to take the three of us to Edwards. Under other circumstances, I’d let you and him handle this, but I want to stay close on this, at least for the moment. I’ll leave Fort Worth early tomorrow morning and fly directly to Plant 42.”

  He saw the look on Romans’s face and quickly added, “I trust your skills, George, but I don’t trust these folks. Do they really think they can bring that”—he slapped the Defender document on the table—“to life?”

  “What else could it be?”

  “I’ll tell you what it could be. How about an excuse for the Jackson administration? We know there’s not much they can do about the GPS shoot-downs. What if they create a “supersecret program” based on Defender, knowing it will fail? After it goes bad, word of the failure will be ‘leaked.’ It shows that they were trying to do something constructive. Look at McConnell, the guy in charge: the Defender hard copy says he’s a midlevel supervisor with SPAWAR. He’s way too junior to run a major program like this. They’re taking his fantasy and turning it into a decoy.”

  “What about the five hundred million?” Romans asked. “I don’t think the check will bounce.”

  “Political cover at scrap-metal prices,” Weber replied. “And who do you think gets blamed if it doesn’t work? The government? They’ll do their best to shift it to us. That half billion will be chump change compared to the price we will pay then.”

  Romans was still processing the idea when Weber started firing orders. “Okay, first thing: We write everything down. Document every meeting, every phone call, every scribble they write on a napkin. If they want anything, even doughnuts in the morning, they have to put it in writing. Second thing: If this project fails, it won’t be for a lack of us trying. Make sure Dawson is in the car with us, but also get a team over to Area 1-54 and see what we have to do to get the pad ready for use. Get another team over to the storage hangar and have them begin getting the vehicle out of mothballs. Work goes on around the clock.”

  “Who do I use?” Romans asked.

  “Anyone who’s free. Tell them it’s a treasure hunt and there’s a golden rivet somewhere.” When Romans laughed, Weber added, “But that’s only temporary. Get out an Internal Personnel Requirement right away calling for people willing to transfer to a ‘new aerospace project.’ Tell personnel I want it out by e-mail to everyone west of the Rockies by early afternoon, to start work tomorrow.”

  C-20 Flight, Bound for Edwards Air Force Base

  October 8, 2017

  After the connection broke, Ray saw that Admiral Schultz had also been taking notes. Before Ray could speak, Schultz made a call. “Jeff, I want you to run down a black program. The white label is Baseboard. And find out about someone named Hugh Dawson. He’s supposed to be in charge. Okay? Great, soon as you can.”

  Schultz closed the phone with a small smile on his face. “And that’s why I left Captain Levin in Washington. We could certainly use him out here, but I can’t be in two places at once.” He grinned. “Unless that’s what the Baseboard program does.”

  Air Force Plant 42, Site 10

  IT Division, F-35 Project

  Lockheed Martin Advanced Development Programs

  Palmdale, CA

  October 8, 2017

  Glenn Chung was logging in a software upgrade when Patty Rivers poked her head in the open door to his office. “Glenn, do you know anything about that new IPR?”

  “What new IPR?” Chung asked without moving his eyes from the screen.

  “It came out about an hour ago.” Patty was one of the biggest grapes on the office grapevine. He’d been too busy to check his e-mail box since lunch. There were messages waiting, though.

  He only had a few new messages and quickly spotted the one sent by “LMAERONAUTICS.”

  INTERNAL PERSONNEL REQUIREMENT

  IMMEDIATE OPENINGS AVAILABLE WITH A NEW LOCKHEED MARTIN AEROSPACE PROGRAM, LOCAL TO PALMDALE AREA. IMMEDIATE PERSONNEL TRANSFER, WITH PROMOTION POSSIBLE IF REQUIREMENTS ARE MET.

  The list of jobs available was extensive, including engineers in several fields, electronics specialists, aviation machinists, even computer types like himself.

  Patty gave him a moment to read it, then asked, “Do you know what program they mean? They need people now, and a lot of them.”

  Chung scanned the list. “No hint here about the kind of progr
am it is.”

  “Could it be a new classified project?”

  He stifled a small laugh. “They wouldn’t announce it in the IPR. When you applied, and didn’t have the right clearances, you’d just be turned down. If it is a new unclassified program, we’ll probably hear about it in a few days by some press release. If it is classified, we just won’t hear at all.”

  “Unless you get a job there,” she offered.

  “Are you that curious?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “It might be more interesting than what I’m doing now. I’m ready for a change. See you!” Patty flitted off in search of more information. She had a sweet personality but thought her job description included “networking,” not “network support.”

  Chung read through the list of open positions carefully. Nope. There was no clue what the new project would be, and he did try to pay attention to what the company was doing. What the heck. He hit the REPLY link and started typing.

  He felt the need for a change as well.

  9

  Skunk Works

  C-20 Flight, Bound for Edwards Air Force Base

  October 8, 2017

  The list of potential locations for the U.S. Space Force headquarters had been short to begin with. Only a handful of military and civilian facilities met even the minimum requirements. In reality, the massive Edwards Air Force Base complex was the only viable option. The second largest air force base in the United States, it sprawled over slightly more than three hundred thousand acres of the western Mojave Desert. Named in honor of Captain Glen Edwards, a decorated World War II bomber and air force test pilot, it was the home of the 412th Test Wing, along with a host of advanced research and development organizations, many of them space-oriented.

  The team’s choice of Edwards was also logical from a practical point of view. The full-scale VentureStar prototype was stored in an unused hangar on the base, the launch complex at Area 1-54 was virtually complete, and there were plenty of runways available for recovery. The base was also conveniently close to Air Force Plant 42 in Palmdale, thirty-three miles away, where Lockheed Martin’s Advanced Development Programs Division was located.