by Dale Brown
NINE
Half the failures of this world in life arise from pulling in one’s horse as he is leaping.
– JULIUS AND AUGUSTUS HARE, “GUESSES AT TRUTH”
THE WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM, WASHINGTON, D.C.
LATER THAT EVENING, EASTERN TIME
“This is just freakin’ unbelievable,” President Joseph Gardner said. He had just received the initial report on the engagement in the Gulf of Aden. Now he was watching a computerized three-dimensional holographic replay of the incident as reported by the aircrew and verified by Armstrong Space Station. “We told them we were coming, and they said as long as we followed international law, they were fine with it.”
“That’s the part we can’t figure out, sir,” National Security Adviser Conrad Carlyle said. “There should have been no surprises. The aircrew did as the Russians told them: They changed to their radio frequency and put in a transponder code that made it easier for the Russian radar controllers to track them. The Russians engaged anyway.”
“Our guys did it by the book, Mr. President,” Secretary of Defense Miller Turner said.
“Oh, no, not quite, Miller, not by a long shot,” Gardner said, shaking a finger at him. He entered commands into a keyboard to speed up the holographic animation floating above the conference table. “The Russians repeatedly warned the crew away; they kept on coming, which in my view wasn’t a smart move.”
“Legal, perhaps,” Secretary of State Barbeau said from a secure videoconference link from Beijing, China, “but we don’t know what was going on with the Russian fleet. They could have had some other sort of emergency, or were under some other kind of attack, and they warned our plane away thinking it was part of the other emergency.”
“That’s speculation, Stacy,” Turner said. “We don’t know that.”
“In any case, Miller, the smart thing would have been to reverse course and get out of there,” Barbeau said. “Why risk your life unnecessarily? It was a stupid move on that pilot’s part.”
“Exactly right,” the president said, pointing at the hologram. “And then look at what she does-”
“‘She’?” Barbeau exclaimed. “A woman bomber pilot?”
“Colonel Gia Cazzotta, the squadron commander,” Carlyle said, glancing at his notes. “Veteran bomber pilot, engineer, unit commander, lots of flying hours, experience in Desert Storm, Iraq, and Afghanistan.”
“Sounds like a cocky type A jet jockey,” Barbeau commented. She thought about her last encounter with a type A but laid-back jet jockey, Hunter Noble-he was actually a spaceplane jockey-but then remembered how that encounter ended, and quickly dismissed the memory.
“Friend of Patrick McLanahan’s, too, I heard,” White House Chief of Staff Walter Kordus said.
“What?” Barbeau asked, her eyes flashing in complete surprise. “Well, that explains a lot.”
“Here’s where the fighter attacks, sir,” Secretary of Defense Turner said, pointing at the hologram. “Our guys didn’t do a thing wrong, but they were shot at!”
“She should’ve bugged out and gotten out of there,” the president said. “Instead…” He stared at the holographic replay in amazement. “Look at this-she’s diving out of the sky, fighters on her tail! Now she’s skimming over the water…now she’s supersonic, for God’s sake, heading right for this destroyer. More warnings on the radio. The ships are trying to lock her up, but she’s too low and fast and jamming them…Jesus, no wonder they thought they were under attack! Somebody tell me what in hell she had in mind here, please!”
“Sir, without having interviewed her myself yet, I believe Colonel Cazzotta was conveying to the Russians that she and all American forces weren’t going to be intimidated by hostile actions in open and free airspace,” Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff General Taylor Bain said. “There’s no reason for the Russian fighters and then their ships to engage the bomber-it was on a routine and legal patrol, one sanctioned by the Kremlin. There may or may not have been some other sort of emergency that the Russians were dealing with, but it doesn’t matter-Colonel Cazzotta had every right to fly there-”
“But what gives her the right to buzz those ships like that, General?” the president asked incredulously. “She is going supersonic and heading right for those ships! If it was me, I’d definitely think I was under attack!”
“Sir, international law prohibits overflying any vessel below one thousand feet altitude,” Bain said. “The bomber didn’t overfly any of those ships.”
“Don’t give me that crap, General-she may not have overflown them, but crossing in front of them at supersonic speed close enough to spray them with water kicked up by her shock wave? I’ll bet the law says something about flying close to a ship in a careless, reckless, or dangerous manner. The Russians were obviously spooked and opened fire.” He pointed again. “The Russian cruiser fires missiles but are either jammed or…what? What happens to the Russian missiles here? They just stop flying. Why?”
“The bomber has an advanced self-protection system that fires lasers at incoming missiles,” National Security Adviser Carlyle explained, “that are hot enough to destroy the missile’s guidance system.”
“But one gets through?”
“Yes, sir, one gets through,” Carlyle said. “An AA-12 radar-guided missile. A copy of our AIM-120 AMRAAM missile, fired from one of the Russian fighters. It explodes near the bomber’s tail, severely damaging it.”
“But the bomber not only keeps going, but shoots down the Russian fighter? How does it do that? With the laser?”
“The bomber is an EB-1C Vampire, a highly modified version of the B-1B Lancer bomber,” Carlyle said. “It can carry a variety of weapons, including air-to-air missiles.”
“McLanahan’s magic bombers,” President Gardner said, running a hand through his hair wearily. “I should have known. The guy could be thousands of miles away but still somehow involved.” He turned to Chief of Staff Kordus. “Didn’t you say McLanahan is personally involved with that bomber’s pilot?”
“Yes, sir,” Kordus said. “They’ve been seeing each other for a few years.”
“Maybe McLanahan was involved in this,” the president said. “Find out where McLanahan is; see if there’s enough reason for the Pentagon or the FBI to question him.” Kordus made a note to himself on his PDA to follow up with Defense and Justice. “This whole incident could have been invented by McLanahan to goad the Russians into attacking one of our planes. Then he can go on the campaign trail and complain that I’m not being tough enough on the Russians.”
“The campaign trail?” Secretary of State Barbeau exclaimed, looking up from her notes in surprise. “McLanahan? What’s he running for, Mr. President?”
Gardner realized he had way outspoken himself, so he waved a hand dismissively at the videoconference camera. “I meant lecture circuit, Stacy,” he said. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to do something crazy like that.” Judging by the blank expressions on their faces, many of the president’s advisers obviously didn’t agree, but no one said anything. The president turned their attention back to the holographic replay. “The bomber meets up with the tanker; they get jumped by four fighters from that carrier, and then one is taken out…how?”
“By one of those Thor’s Hammer interceptor projectiles from a Kingfisher weapon garage,” Carlyle said.
“Direct hit, too,” General Bain said, a boyish grin on his face. “Blew that plane into pixie dust-literally. Obliterated by a guided rod of tungsten steel traveling at fifteen thousand miles an hour!”
“And who gave the order to launch one of those things?” the president asked. “You, General?”
Bain quickly wiped the smile off his face. “No, sir.”
“I know I certainly didn’t! Miller?”
“The interim commander aboard Armstrong Space Station, a Major Jessica Faulkner, gave the order, sir,” Turner said.
“We may set an all-time world record for the number of persons whom I am goin
g to shit-can, kick in the ass, or both!” the president thundered. “A major ordered the destruction of a Russian fighter, and it wasn’t in self-defense? What’s next-an airman one-striper is going to sink their aircraft carrier? I thought I ordered that those Thor’s Hammer things not be used and be removed from orbit? Include the space-station personnel, Ann Page, and the Secretary of the Air Force in the incident investigation.”
“Undersecretary Page resigned her post, sir.”
“I don’t care. I want her included in the investigation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about the crew from that Vampire bomber, Miller?” Vice President Phoenix asked.
“Still listed as missing, sir,” the secretary of defense said. “The Reagan carrier group is heading west and launching a rescue mission as we speak.”
A phone buzzed, and Kordus picked it up, listened, then put the call on hold. “What the hell is it, Walter?” the president asked.
“President Truznyev of Russia on the line for you, sir.”
He motioned for everyone at the conference table to pick up their dead-extensions, then punched the “HOLD” button again.
“Put him on.”
A moment later: “Mr. President, this is President Truznyev, via an interpreter.”
“Hello, Mr. President. This is about the incident in the Gulf of Aden, I presume?”
“‘Incident’? Three Russian airmen are dead and one is missing,” Truznyev said. “In addition, several sailors were injured due to your bomber’s provocative high-speed pass near our vessels, which also sustained some damage. This is more than just an ‘incident,’ sir-it is an act of war!”
“What it is, Mr. President, is a terrible misunderstanding, a complete lack of communication, and the case of a bomber pilot who far exceeded her authority and performed in an extremely careless and reckless manner,” Gardner said. “But that doesn’t excuse you sending four more jets out there and attacking the bomber and its tanker.”
“I understand that you would choose to forget about the Russian pilots killed by missiles launched from that very same bomber,” Truznyev said. “But I have another grave concern to ask you about, Mr. Gardner, and I hope you will be truthful with me, because tensions are already high in that region, and lying would only make matters worse.”
“Lying? Mr. President, I’m not in the habit of lying. What is it that-”
“It is our finding that one Russian airman was killed at the very same time that one of your space-based attack weapons was detected deorbiting in the same area,” Truznyev interjected. “We have not been able to extensively interview the surviving pilot yet, but it appears to us that an American space-launched interceptor weapon destroyed one of our planes. Is this true, sir?”
“Stand by, please, Mr. President,” Gardner said, hitting the “HOLD” button again. “Shit, he knows about the Hammer thing taking out one of his planes! How could he know that?”
“ Russia operates space surveillance and intelligence-gathering sites from an island off the coast of Somalia, from India, and from ships that can be deployed anywhere, sir-they might even have one in their task force out in the Gulf of Aden,” Director of National Intelligence Gerald Vista said. “I’m sure they carefully track any of our spacecraft in range, especially the weapon garages.”
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to say now?”
“Mr. President, if you tell Truznyev that Major Faulkner acted without authorization,” Vice President Ken Phoenix said, “it’ll appear as if the entire U.S. military is out of control.”
“It does look like it’s out of control, Ken!” Gardner snapped.
“Colonel Cazzotta and Major Faulkner were doing their jobs, sir-Cazzotta had been ordered to inspect and report on the Russian fleet, and Major Faulkner was ordered to protect American interests with their space-based weapons.”
“I didn’t tell the bomber pilot to race around the ships as if he-I mean she-was getting ready to attack them, just fly nearby and show the damned flag!” Gardner exclaimed. “And I ordered those Thor’s Hammer things not to be used, and I was in the process of doing away with them.”
“Sir, I recommend you use this opportunity to challenge Truznyev,” Phoenix said. “This whole thing started when the Russians gave us permission to inspect their task force, then engaged the bomber offensively with radar and verbal challenges, acting as if they were ready to attack. If the Russians had simply allowed the plane to fly by, none of this would have happened. It’s not our airmen’s fault they reacted aggressively-they were only doing their jobs.”
The president thought for a moment. Finally the expression of confusion and doubt lifted, and the rest of the president’s national security team thought they were going to watch the commander in chief get tough with the Russians. Gardner hit the line button: “Mr. President, I…apologize for what has happened today,” he said. Most of the national security team looked as if they tensed all at once-even Barbeau’s surprised expression on the video teleconference screen was evident. Ken Phoenix’s expression was utterly blank. “The actions of the bomber crew were uncalled for and provocative at the very least, and were possibly a violation of orders punishable by a court-martial. As for the downing of one of your fighters…yes, sir, a weapon was fired from space by our Space Defense Force.”
“So you admit it.” Truznyev crowed. They could hear the Russian president’s angry, incredulous voice in the background, even though the translator delivered it in his usual even monotone.
“Mr. President, it underscores the absolute necessity of instituting a ban on offensive space-based weapons,” Gardner said. “The space-station crew felt it was necessary to help defend the bomber and tanker, and so they acted. If such weapons are banned, such actions will not occur.”
“So you ordered this attack from space to induce Russia to agree to a ban on the very weapons you used to kill our airman?” Truznyev asked. “How dare you, sir! It is bad enough holding a gun to our heads by placing those monstrosities in orbit and then asking for a ban on such weapons, but then you dare try to increase the pressure by killing a Russian with one!”
“That was not my intention, sir,” Gardner said. “I did not sanction either action-the bomber crew and the space-station crews acted without my prior permission. They thought that their actions were part of their standing orders. They should have asked…”
The Russian president’s incredulous voice in the background completely drowned out the translator’s: “Vy ne odobrjaet ikh dejjstvija?” Truznyev shouted. The translator quickly cut in: “You did not approve their actions, sir?”
“Of course not!” Gardner said. “Things happened too fast.” He realized he had just about lost control of this entire conversation, so he quickly added, “We told you we were going to patrol your task force, sir, and you engaged us anyway. Why was-”
“No, sir, do not attempt to place the blame on Russia,” Truznyev said. “Your airmen and Space Defense Force troops’ provocative and warlike actions resulted in the deaths of perhaps four Russian airmen and a dozen injuries.”
“And I deeply regret the loss of Russian life, Mr. President,” Gardner said. “But we are still confused as to why you would grant permission for a simple patrol overflight of your fleet, and then attack it. Were you trying to instigate a response, or-”
“Do not change the subject, Mr. Gardner,” Truznyev said. “You promised the world you would not employ those space-attack weapons and you called for a ban of such weapons, then you proceed right along and use another to shoot down a Russian aircraft. You simply cannot be trusted any longer, sir. You are a liar. And if you seek to pretend that you did not give the order to employ those weapons, you are not only a liar but a coward.”
“There is no need for such language, sir,” Gardner said.
“This is Russia ’s demand to you, Mr. Gardner,” Truznyev said. “All patrols by aircraft within strike range of our task forces will cease immediately. We will consider any
such aircraft hostile and engage it immediately and without warning. Do you agree, sir, yes or no?”
“We are allowed freedom to navigate the sky as well as the sea, sir. We will not-”
“I said, Mr. Gardner, do you agree?”
Gardner hesitated, but only for a few moments: “Agreed, Mr. President,” he said. “In the interest of mutual peace and trust, the United States will fly no patrol aircraft within one hundred miles of any Russian warship.” His national security advisers looked aghast as they listened in on the conversation; Phoenix still wore the same stony expression.
“And you must deactivate all of the Kingfisher interceptor satellites immediately,” Truznyev went on, “and they must be allowed to burn up in the atmosphere.”
“Excuse me, Mr. President?”
“ Russia has the capability to monitor signals between those weapon satellites, Earth satellite control centers, and your military space station,” Truznyev said. “Those signals must cease. With prior permission, you will be allowed to maneuver the weapon satellites to deconflict with other satellite traffic or pick a safe reentry crash area, and you will be allowed to approach the satellites to recover sensors or other valuable equipment, but otherwise you may not alter their orbital path or activate any systems on board. They will be allowed to crash in the atmosphere.”
“Mr. President, those satellites perform a function over and above attack,” Gardner said. He glanced at his advisers around him and their shocked expressions-all but Phoenix ’s. The president didn’t know enough about the Kingfisher satellites to defend them; no one at the table really did, except perhaps for Phoenix, and the president wasn’t about to ask him. “They are used for…for reconnaissance, uh, and communications…”
“Mr. Gardner, we both know that their primary function is to destroy satellites and attack targets on Earth, apparently now including aircraft,” Truznyev said. “You can prattle about this and that as you please, but we all know that they were designed to kill, and have now done so many times. They must be deactivated, immediately, or Russia has no choice but to respond in kind.”