Silver Tower

by Dale Brown

  she found out she was wrong.

  It was spacious and well lit. Two senior officers and four technicians hovered in front of control panels, sipping coffee and exchanging reports. Green plants and flowers-natural carbon-dioxide scrubbers-sat Velcroed to pedestals around the module. "This is the command module," Colonel Walker said as the group floated up through the small connector into the module. "All communications, earth surveillance and station operations are conducted here. The general's work area is over there." General Saint-Michael's work area, Ann noticed, was different from everyone else's in at least one respect-it had a chair. The men who served under the general were expected to stand, anchored to the deck by their Velcro sneakers or attached to variable-height work platforms. Fuzzy Velcro loops were everywhere--on the ceilings, walls, floors, even on instrument panels.

  Baker pointed to the module's "ceiling ... .. Instrument panels on the ceiling, Colonel? Why?"

  Walker turned to Baker. "Tell me, Mr. Baker-which is the ceiling? Is that the ceiling ... ?"

  Walker detached himself from the Velcro "floor" and floated up to the ceiling, hovering a foot above Ann's head. He anchored his feet to Velcro footholds molded into the

  I I side" instrument panels. "Or is this the wall? In space, and especially on Silver Tower, conventional up and down don't

  exist-4hey mean something else. If we create a module with five hundred square feet of earth-conventional floor space, we can in effect triple that amount by mounting some instrument panels on the ceiling. The cost of building materials is cut by more than half. A few years ago we had a new technician on board who got so confused about which way was upliterally-he got real sick. This was back when Silver Tower wasn't any more than two tin cans. He'd gotten up a few

  earlier than anyone else and was walking on the walls for two hours before realizing that the floor was down there. We've now made a yellow-colored Velcro loop carpet for the 'floor' to end the confusion. Anyway, we keep monitoring and auxiliary controls up here. Someone using them keeps out of the way of people using the conventional control panels and we double or triple our work space. It all takes some getting used to but after a few days you'll be swinging around the cabin like you were born here."

  Walker detached himself from the ceiling, floated back to the deck and motioned to a group of two technicians and an

  officer manning a large, multiscreened unit that looked like an

  air traffic controller's console. "The SBR, space-based radar, operators are there. They scan preprogramined areas of the Soviet Union and other countries for any missile-launch activity as we fly over them. The radars on Silver Tower can detect and track Any object larger than three thousand pounds at almost any altitude--even on the ground or below the surface of the water. We also can tie in with geosynchronous infrared satellites for missile-launch detection. Right now the SBR is tied into Dr. Baker's Thor missile garage tethered beneath the station. Eventually we'll be in direct control with and have control of hundreds of Thor missile garages in earth orbit, directing the strategic missile defense of the whole damn northern hemisphere."

  He turned to Ann. "Your laser system is what's got us

  really excited. If you're correct in your prediction that a

  one-minute laser barrage will have the power to destroy hundreds of missiles, we may have the ability to neutralize the whole Soviet nuclear arsenal." "If it works, Colonel," Ann said. "The problems we need

  to overcome are still pretty huge. . . . For now, I'd put my money on the Thor missiles."

  Walker accepted that with a shrug, then led the way to the next module, which

  was like the command module except a bit less organized. Again, four technicians manned the module, two of them positioned in front of large banks of equipment. "This is the experimentation module," Walker said. "Personnel and equipment are moved in and out of this area on a weekly basis. Some weeks it's bacteria--others it's transformers or superconductive circuits. All of the equipment bays are temporary-we can remodel this entire module in half a day. Dr. Baker, this will be your office." "Great, it's bigger than my lab at Los Alamos."

  Walker led them through the side hatch into a long glasslined connecting tunnel. "This leads to the second parallel column of modules. We've built each of these connecting tunnels with thick Plexiglas so that it can double as a sort of observation deck. The view is . . . well, see for yourself."

  The view was breathtaking. The entire space station was spread out before them, a science fiction movie come to life.

  Far below them the center open-framed keel stretched far out into space, almost out of sight. Nearly a thousand feet long and fifty feet square, the keel held large silverized fuel tanks, mounting and equipment housings for a variety of antennas, and miles of pipes and tubes snaking throughout. Beneath the keel were mounted the huge curved space-based, phased-array radars, their football-field-sized electromagnetic eyes continuously scanning planet earth beneath them. At the very ends of the keel were four solar energy collectors, each twice as large as the radars-massive, delicate, incredibly thin-looking sheets of glass aimed at the sun. "On earth those collectors would weigh eighty tons apiece," Walker said. "Up here, of course, nothing. We use a tiny, fifty-horsepower electric motor to keep them pointed at the sun. They supply enough power for two stations. While the station is in sunlight they provide direct energy. We also use them to recharge a bank of cobalt-hydroxide batteries for emergency use and to break down waste water to produce hydrogen and oxygen for our fuel cells and station thrusters. "

  "Is that what you'll use to power Ann's laser?" Baker asked him. "Unfortunately, no," Ann answered for him. "We need ten times more collectors for just one burst. We'll use a small nuclear MHD reactor to power the laser."

  Baker pointed toward the very ends of the keel. "The station thrusters are also out there on the keel?" "Right," Walker said. "Five small hydrogen rocket engines on each end of the keel. They fire automatically about two dozen times a day to correct the station's altitude, attitude, alignment and orbit. They're also used to move the station if necessary." "And you get the fuel for that from water?" "Right again. We use electrolysis chambers powered by the sun to crack waste water into hydrogen and oxygen gas that's collected and stored in those tanks out there. We bring up a shuttle full of water about once every two months, and we also get water from the fuel cells, where we recombine hydrogen, and oxygen to produce electrical power and water. In an emergency a full complement of twenty crewmen can survive up here for six months without resupply. "

  They continued through the thick Plexiglas tunnel to the next module. Ann and Baker found themselves in an immense structure many times larger than the command module and laboratory modules they'd just left. "This is a complete Skylab module, the first component of the original NASA space station launched two years ago," Walker explained. "This segment of the station was first lofted before full-scale shuttle flights resumed. As you can see, it's as large as the third stage of a Saturn booster, sizable enough for the experimentation we were doing originally, but certainly not now. "When full-capacity shuttle flights resumed, we built the rest of Silver Tower using cargo bay-sized modules. We now use the Skylab section for living and recreation quarters. For those purposes, there's more than enough room." "That must be your gymnasium over there," Baker said, pointing to one area of the module. "Uh huh, everything today's astronaut needs to keep his body fit," Walker said, accenting his voice like a camy

  pitch-man. "Treadmills and Soloflex weight-you shall forgive the expression-machines here, exercise bicycles over there. At the other end a videotape and audio tape library, computers, television. . . . We get two hundred channels from all over the world."

  Baker examined one of the "weight" machines. "Clever," he said. "Using thick rubber bands to create resistance. Obviously a typical weight machine won't

  work up here. " He studied the treadmill. "How does this work?" "Same as a regular one except you strap on this bungee cord belt firs
t. You can adjust the tension of the bungee cords to increase the resistance. -The skipper--General SaintMichael-practically lives on the treadmill. No one can keep up with him and he's forty-three years old."

  They made their way to the sleep module, a series of small chambers that looked like curtain-covered horizontal telephone booths arranged like two-tiered bunkbeds. Each end of the module had two very large rooms, bathrooms.

  Walker peeled back the sides of a sleeping bag in the chamber. "You can adjust the elasticity of the sleeping bag covers. We've learned by now that crew, sleep better if they feel at least a little of the sensation of gravity. Sleeping while hoating around Weightless isn't all that comfortable. We've begun using those zero 'g' vacuum showers like the Russians have, but they can be a real pain. By the way, the sleep module--actually the whole station-is coed. No separate facilities. We haven't had too many women on Silver Tower....

  Ann wondered what it would be like bunking with a dozen men. They'd probably feel more uncomfortable than she would. A battleship commander's daughter, she'd grown up seeing men being men. She also liked men, too often more than they returned the favor....

  The group moved down to the next hatch; this one doublesealed and leading up to another docking module like the one connected to the command module. According to Walker this docking area was better suited for transferring supplies and fuel from a shuttle or an unmanned cargo vehicle. He motioned to the lower hatch. "That leads to the storage and supply module, and below that is the MHD reactor. MHD, as Ann

  can tell you, Dr. Baker, stands for magnetohydrodynamics-a way of producing massive amounts of electromotive force in a very compact unit. We'll cut across here to engineering."

  Engineering was much like the command center. "It's really the computer center," Walker told them. "The kitchen-uh, galley-is located here as well." He continued on, pointing to a ha..,;h at one end of the computer module. "There is your office, Amv-4he control module for your laser, Skybolt. Nobody's been in it except when it was connected and tied into the rest of the station last month."

  They opened the hatches and entered the module-or tried to. Unlike all the other pressurized modules, the Skybolt control-and-experimentation center was choked with equipment, wiring, pipes, conduit and control consoles, with a lone work space tacked in a far corner. "Wh-where do I work?" Ann said. "I mean, where's my lab, my instruments, test gear? It's-" "It's all there," Walker said, trying to sound upbeat. "But it's been cqmpated to fit into this one module. Your control console is over there, plus a few other panels on the ceiling." He understated, Ann thought. The main control consoles were on the module's ceiling, surrounded by built-in handholds and footrests. She forced a smile in Colonel Walker's direction, but she was getting dizzy just looking at the overhead console. "Welcome to Silver Tower."

  June 1992 DEFENSE INTELLIGENCE AGENCY, VIRGINIA

  "All right, Mr. Collins," George Sahl, deputy director of operations of the Defense Intelligence Agency, said. "'You've got my attention-and apparetly the attention of your section chief." He looked warily at Preston Barnes, in charge of the KH- 14 Block Three digital photo imagery satellite. "Spill it. I I

  Jackson Collins, associate photo analyst under Barnes, cleared his throat and stepped up to Sahl. "Yes, sir. The Russians are going to invade Iran. "

  Barnes closed his eyes and muttered a "Collins-you-idiot" to himself and not audible to the others, he hoped. Collins noticed the deputy director's shoulders slumping. Before Sahl could say anything Barnes turned angrily toward his young photo interpreter. "Collins, didn't you ever learn how to give a proper report-?" "Easy, Preston," Sahl said, raising a hand to silence his division chief. "I've scanned your report and your analysis, Mr. Collins.

  Now I want you to tell me. Briefly, please." "Yes, sir.... The military buildup around the southern TVD Headquarters at Tashkent is inconsistent with either a fall offensive in Afghanistan or the army's seasonal maneuvers scheduled for this month. The offensive-"

  "What offensive?" Barnes said. "A CIA report circulated ffirough the division last month about a suspected, unusually large-scale Russian push into Afghanistan sometime this fall."

  Barnes shook his head. "The CIA calls every resupply mission to Afghanistan an offensive. Overland routes into the central highland have been cut off recently by bad weather and the Afghan government has all but folded its tents. Naturally the Russians have had to step up supply flights." "But, sir, not with as many as six Condors.... Those photos showed hangars large enough for An-124s-" "Condors?" Sahl didn't like to hear that. "'Where did you see Condors in the southern military district?" "It's ... an educated guess, sir. Those large temporary hangars I mentioned in the report are large enough to accommodate Condors- "Or any other Soviet aircraft flying," Barnes said. Collins looked away-he'd never expected to have to fight off his section chief. "What else?" Sahl prompted him. "Your report mentioned the rail units. You counted forty percent more activity in the Tashkent yards. What about -that?" "Yes, sir, the actual count is up thirty-seven percent from activity this same time last year, also several weeks prior to maneuvers, and up twenty-four percent from the Soviets' last real large-scale offensive into Afghanistan two years ago, when they put down the Qandahar uprising. And that had been the largest Soviet offensive since their invasion of Czechoslovakia. Whatever they're planning now, it'll be larger than either of those.-" "Collins," Barnes said quickly, "you can't make conclusions like that based simply on the number of rail cars in a switching yard. There could be dozens of reasons why there were more cars there.... Look-- and he softened his voice--these reports can set a lot of things in motion. Things that cost a lot of money and a lot of effort by a lot of people. Dangerous things. They get a lot of attention. If we're wrong and we send all these men and machines off on a wild goose chase. . . ."

  Collins' face hardened. He dropped two eleven-by-fourteen

  black-and-white photographs on Sahl's desk. "You can't ignore this, Mr. Sahl," he said, pointing a finger at the first photo. Sahl studied it. "What . . . ?" "It's a computer-enhanced KH-14 image of one side of one of the large two-acre hangars at Nikolai Zhukovsky Military Airfield at Tashkent." Sahl peered at the highly magnified photo. Trailing behind the hangar was, he saw, a fuzzy, rectangular object. Almost no firm detail, though. He studied

  the photo for a moment longer, looked up at'Collins. "It's a scrub photo." "Sir, it is a photo of a GL-25 missile launcher. There are- 11

  "Collins, it's a scrub photo," Sahl repeated. "Magnification, contrast, grain, background-it's not worth piss for analysis. It's a scrub photo." "Sir, I counted seventy of this same weird-looking rail car in Tashkent. All of them surrounded by guards, all of them bracketed by 'security rail cars. I understand no certain judgment can be made on the basis of this photo, but an educated guess can easily be made--it's a GL-25 long-range cruise missile launcher, mounted on an all-terrain carrier. Here, looktwo missile canisters, the control center-" "It looks like a concrete container to me," Barnes said. "Or a gravel container. There's nothing unusual about it." "The KH-14 wasnt properly stabilized," Collins said, "but you can still make out the-" "Collins, you can't make out that kind of detail on a scrub photo," Barnes snapped. "I can. I did, sir. " "If you look at a photo-any photo-long enough," Sahl said quietly, "you'll likely see what you want to see. That's why we have parameters for how much a photo can be enlarged or cropped. " "Then I'd like to request another overflight by the KH-14," Collins said. "We need more photos of those rail cars." "All right, all right," Sahl said. "I agree. I can start the request for some air time on KH- 14 for Tashkent, but I'm not sure if they'll approve it." "Sir, I realize you suspect this is just another junior photo

  interpreter trying to score points, but it's not. I really believe there's something going on. Something big."

  Sahl tried to hide a wry smile, took one more look at the photos, then tossed them on the desk. "You mentioned Iran. Tell me, Collins, how could six invisible Condor transports and seventy alleged GL-25 m
obile missile launchers in Tashkent lead you to the assumption that this is all part of an Iranian invasion group?"

  Collins hesita ted. Too late to retreat now, buddy, he told himself. "It wasn't just the missiles or the transports, sir. It's the buildup of Russian ships in the Persian Gulf and the Brezhnev carrier battle group that sneaked into the Gulf last month. It was that unsuccessful counterrevolution in Iran that CIA said was sponsored and financed by the Russians. It's-" "It's also bull, Collins," Barnes cut in. "Your job isn't to come up with a wild hypothesis basedon second- and thirdhand information. Your job is to take KH-14 imagery and describe it. Period." "I thought my job was analysis. This is important, I know it. And I know it's urgent enough to require special attention-" "Are you sure it's not you who wants the special attention?" Barnes said, fixing him with a drop-dead stare.

  Sahl raised a hand. "That's enough for now, Preston. I believe Collins is one hundred percent sincere. Give him that." He turned to the photo interpreter. "Hot dogs come by the gross around here, Mr. Collins. Plenty of people want to make the splash, but they do it knowing that they don't have to take the heat---the real heat-if they're wrong. Are you willing to take the heat?"

  His question hung in the air for a moment, a long moment; then Sahl said, "Why don't we try a little experiment? I'm going to. put your name on this report. I'll clear it for the director's review and put it on his desk with a recommendation based on your findings that we follow up on this with another series of KH-14 overflights. If there's any heat from the director's staff, you take it. Sound good?"

  Collins looked frozen in place.... It's not a KH-14 Block Three analysis, he thought, or a Satellite Photo Recce section report-it's my report. A Jackson Collins report. Okay, damn

  it, I asked for it . . . "Yes, sir-with one request. That I be given another week to make the presentation my way."