Silver Tower

by Dale Brown

  But Ledbetter wasn't listening. Suddenly, without a word, he took off at a fast trot back toward the underground command trailer.

  -Sir . . . ?" Plutarsky had to run to catch up to the lieutenant's long-legged lope. "Something wrong, sit?" "Didn't you hear it, Sergeant?" "Hear what? The bearings ... ?" "The L-band pulse-acquisition radar," Ledbetter said. "They turned the L-band radar on.' , "I didn't hear anything," Plutarsky said. Ledbetter was speeding up, and Plutarsky had to hustle to keep pace with him. "How can you hear a radar?" "The L-band radar in the bunker is slaved to the search radar," Ledbetter told him. "Every time the bearings in the search radar squeaked at the ten o'clock position I could hear the L-band radar move. I-Hawk's been activated." "Well, shouldn't we have gotten a--?"

  Just then Ledbetter's walkie-talkie beeped. Ledbetter already had it in his hand and didn't wait for the message. "Ledbetter here. Sound air-attack warning. I'm on my way. " Both he and Plutarsky were back to the underground trader by the time the first air raid warning homs began blaring. "I'll make the rounds of the launchers," Plutarsky called out as Ledbetter hurried for the dirt stairs leading down to the trailer.

  "Better clear the Patriot launchers first," was the last thing he heard Ledbetter say as he disappeared underground.

  The trailer smelled musty. Three radar operators sat on the right side of the trailer at bare control consoles, and a long row of power transformers, electronics racks and circuit breakers lined the left side. The only light in the trailer came from the radar screens and the control panels. Just as Ledbetter entered he heard one of the operators on the combined UHFVHF radio

  calling: "Unidentified aircraft one hundred miles north of Robat, heading one-six-zero, altitude two-zero thousand, authenticate Delta Sierra, Over. " The operator had a finger on a switch that would broadcast a computer-synthesized warning message in Russian and in Arabic, but Ledbetter put a hand on his shoulder. "No need to give them more than one chance to identify themselves, Sergeant. If they don't have an IFF transponder or didn't call ahead of time it's a bad guy." "Yes, sir. " "Tracking six, repeat six inbounds," the search-radar operator said. "They look like they're almost line abreast. Slightly staggered altitudes . . . now showing eight aircraft, sir, eight inbounds. :'Range?" 'Approaching max Patriot range in about one minute." "Patriot has the inbounds, sir," one of the other radar controllers reported. "I-Hawk has the bogeys," the third put in. "All batteries clear to launch at optimum range," Ledbetter said. "I need a report on-" "Inbounds turning, sir," from the search-radar operator. "All inbounds turning right toward. . . . Now I have several high-speed inbounds, altitude three-zero thousand and climbing, speed . . . speed well over the Mach and accelerating. Heading toward us . . . ...

  Ledbetter went over to the search-radar scope. The picture showed the whole scene in sharp relief. The classic Kingfish Soviet cruise-missile launch and flight profile was being represented just like a training simulation: the big heavy launch platforms, probably Tu-95 Bear or Tu-16 Badger strategic bombers; the launch just before the bombers reached the

  engagement circle for the long-range Patriot missiles and the escape turn; the missiles in their high-speed climb to supersonic cruise altitude. In less than a minute they'd be bearing down on their target: the Americans' SAM emplacements. "Radio warning message in the blind on all tactical and emergency frequencies and on FLTSATCOM," Ledbetter ordered. "Tbree-thirty-fifth CAB under attack; attack profile shows Soviet missile attack. Send it." "Yes, sir. " There was a one-minute pause, with the searchradar operators calling off the range to the nearest missile. "Message acknowledged on FLTSATCOM. I'm receiving warning messages from the other sites." "Missiles now climbing above five-zero thousand feet, speed approximately Mach two, range fifteen miles .... Altitude decreasing now .... Missiles dropping rapidly .... Range ten miles ... nine ... eight ... seven. . . . "

  Sergeant Plutarsky had just received a ready-for-action report from the second Patriot missile launcher bunker he visited when the first of the high-altitude Patriot missiles cooked off, the sudden glare and awful ear-shattering sound of the Thiokol solid-fuel motor almost knocking Plutarsky off his feet. Two more missiles launched in rapid succession, along with missiles at other bunkers. Most of the missiles were headed almost straight up. The air was quickly filled with hot, acid-tasting smoke.

  Plutarsky had just stopped to wipe sweat from his face and decide where to go when an explosion erupted ahead of him. This time he was not merely knocked off his feet-he was picked up by a red-hot hand and thrown ten yards backward. The air seemed to be sucked right out of his lungs and replaced by superheated gas that choked him as if he were drowning in lava.

  Somehow he found himself alive and whole when he dared to open his eyes. There were fires all around him. The ground for dozens of yards around looked as though it had all been run through a huge grater. There was nothing taller than a clump of dirt standing anywhere. He tried to stand but found his right ankle twisted or broken.

  There was one barely recognizable object nearby, and he crawled on his hands and knees, down where the air was a bit cooler, toward it. He didn't have to crawl far to realize what it was. The explosion had been so great that it had excavated the command trailer completely out of the ground and then crumpled it like a sheet of paper. The ten-foot-tall trailer had been squashed down to no more than a few feet high.

  Plutarsky couldn't believe the carnage around him. Only a few seconds before it had been a peaceful, quiet, rainy morn-

  ing in Iran. Now, after one explosion, it was a burning nightmare. Had he been unconscious? He rested for a minute on his hands and knees until he heard footsteps nearby.

  He raised his head and saw five men running toward the town of Robat, their arms full of M-16 rifles, ammo boxes, cases of rations and desert combat jackets. Plutarsky got to his feet and pulled his Beretta. "Halt. Stop." His voice barely sounded over the background noises of out-of-control fires and men calling and yelling, but all five of the running men stopped and turned toward him. They were Iranian revolutionary guards. "Where the hell do you think you're going with-?"

  Plutarsky stopped, felt a piece of metal touch his left temple and turned to find First Captain Shurab holding the muzzle of an M-16 rifle in his face. "Hello, Sergeant Polack."

  There was a brief show of fear in Plutarsky's eyes, which pleased Shurab; then the fear was replaced with anger. "Going somewhere?" Plutarsky said. "It is insult forelite Muslim heroes to work like dogs for Polack inferiors. I am taking weapons and supplies to mountains. I will fight Soviets without American missiles." He started to back away from Plutarsky. "You'd better pull the trigger, raghead," Plutarsky said, now looking directly into Shurab's eyes, " 'cause otherwise I'm going to track you down, skin your deserter hide and feed your carcass to the dogs."

  Shurab stopped and shrugged. "All right, Sergeant." Plutarsky saw a flash of white light, felt a red-hot tongue of flame strike his face. Then nothing.

  Marshal Govorov had predicted the fall of Bandar-Abbas would take two days. Ivtook six. But the fall of the principal Iranian military stronghold guarding the Strait of Hormuz was now a certainty.

  Only.ten of the forty AS-6 Kingfish cruise missiles that had been launched against the twelve outer American rapid deployment force SAM emplacements north of Bandar-Abbas reached their targets, but the ten that had hit had devastated the area defenses. The whole Meydan Valley lay open as two of the three CAB missile sites protecting the valley were destroyed, and Soviet Backfire bombers rushed through the new opening. Carrying AS-6 cruise missiles themselves, as well as gravity bombs, the faster ground-hugging turbojet bombers quickly destroyed the fourteen I-Hawk missile batteries surrounding Bandar-Abbas. In two days Bandar-Abbas and the Strait of Hormuz lay completely unprotected.

  Transport aircraft filled with elite Soviet army shock troops then flew unmolested down the Meydan Valley and landed on the outskirts of Bandar-Abbas. After four days of fierce combat, with a full division of Soviet troops massing aroun
d them, the rapid deployment force "s evacuated BandarAbbas. With no land-based support left to them, the few American naval vessels in the southern Persian Gulf and in the Strait of Hormuz retreated to the protection of the Nimitz battle group, which in turn, because of a lack of shore support and increased AS-6 cruise-niissile attacks, pulled back to the Gulf of Oman, nearly two hundred miles southeast of BandarAbbas. The Nimitz still controlled the Strait of Hormuz through the Gulf of Oman, but it was a shaky grip.

  With unprecedented speed the drive to occupy Iran moved to completion. Armed opposition was sporadic: as in Afghanistan, opposition forces were run mostly by rival families or religious sects that fought with each other more than they fought the Soviet invaders. A few chemical weapon attacks against the natives in the mountains and central highlands were reported, but for the most part the Iranian people in the urban areas simply decided to follow the new government rather than risk being wiped out by the Soviets. To the Iranian people there was little difference between the rival factions: both retained their fundamental Islamic foundations; one was

  supported by -the Soviet union, the other by the United States. For now the Soviets had the upper hand, so the people lined up with the winning side.

  The result was that a new government quickly installed itself in Tehran.

  To no one's surprise the new nation of Allah-alKastan, the Islamic Nation of God, was immediately recognized by the Soviet Union, but to everyone's surprise Syria and Iraq formally recognized the new government and suggested entering into negotiations to unify their countries under the laws of Islam. The long Iran-Iraq war came to an end, and representatives of the two governments signed a peace treaty soon afterward. Many other nations, not wanting a continuation of hostilities, also recognized the new government....

  The Soviet invasion and takeover of Iran was complete, but the conflict was not over. The world watched as slowly I

  inexorably, the huge Arkhangel carrier battle group departed Cain Rahn Bay, Vietnam,'bound for the Persian Gulf. The Brezhnev carrier group dominated the Persian Gulf, but it could not safely dock at any. port in the gulf for fear of guerrilla or commando attack, nor, thanks to the Nimhz, could any replacement ships pass through the American blockade of the Strait of Hormuz and the Gulf of Oman.

  The world knew that the Arkhangel was coming to break the blockade, once and for all.

  HEADQUARTERS, FALCON SPACE COMMAND BASE,COLORAO0

  The meeting of Space command officers and crewmen was called to attention as General Martin Stuart, commander of the Space Command, entered the small conference room. Under more normal circumstances, Stuart would have told everyone to be seated immediately, but this time he was silent. Re took his seat at the head of the Oval conference table, and motioned for the others to do likewise, remaining silent as the room quieted down.

  Jason Saint-Michael sat alone, on the left side of the table from Stuart, as if he represented some sort of contagion. Dr. Matsui, his flight surgeon, sat behind him, almost as if disassociating himself from his patient.

  Across from Saint-Michael sat a small group of Space Command officers. Ann Page was among them, seated alongside shuttle mission specialist Captain Marty Schultz. Schultz's customary youthful grin was gone. Ann looked uneasily, almost furtively, from General Stuart and back to Saint-Michael. "All right," Stuart began, "we're here to select a crew to return to Armstrong Station on the spaceplane America, recover the bodies of the dead crewmen, then detach the Skybolt module from the station and attach a PAM payload booster to it and send it to a higher storage orbit until it can be retrieved via shuttle. This sortie must be accomplished within the next eight days, before 'Armstrong reenters earth's atmosphere. Let's get started. " Stuart opened four folders on the desk in front of him, scanned them, but returned his attention to Jason Saint-Michael. "You're recommending these- crewmen for the rescue sortie, General?" "Yes, sir." Saint-Michael nodded to the most senior officer across the table from him. "Colonel Jonathan Hampton is the only choice as pilot, He's the senior hypersonic transportation system pilot in the command besides myself." He even spelled out HTS for them. "Only two sorties aboard America and one station docking, but one year as operations officer of the HTS cadre and one year as a simulator instructor at Little Rock . . . Major Ken Horvath as first officer was a choice among many qualified people. He topped out best in examination and simulator scores of all recent HTS-school graduates. . . . Captain Schultz was again the only real choice of all volunteers for this trip. He's qualified both as an HTS and shuttle-flight engineer and payload specialist. He also had a special claim for being included on this flight: he crewed with Colonels Will and Sontag aboard Enterprise for most of his career. . . . "Can you give me your assurance, Captain Schultz," General Stuart said, "that the ... personal nature of this duty won't affect your performance?" "I'll tell you what I told General Saint-Michael, sir. I feel

  like I have a.,duty to Colonel Will and Colonel Sontag to fly this mission: I demand the opportunity to do it."

  Stuart nodded, looked again to Saint-Michael. "Of course, General, Dr. Ann Page here is the best qualified for the ... other task on this sortie."

  Stuart folded his hands on Ann's personnel file and shook his head. "I disagree,

  Jason. Dr. Page has gone through enough already. I don't see any need to put her through-" "Excuse me, sir," Ann said, "you're talking about me as if I weren't here. The fact is, you have no alternative. I happen to be best qualified to handle Skybolt, and I'm the only person familiar with the laser who is qualified for space flight. I'm also a volunteer-" "I question that more than anything else," Stuart broke in. "Do you think it's wise to cause your family more worry after what they went through two months ago? The Armstrong attack, your father's death. . . ." "General, I don't want to be a bore, and I think you know I'm no radical feminist or whatever, but such considerations really are no more relevant for me than for any of the men. But I should tell you, my only family is MY mother, and she's in full agreement with me." Feeling wanned up, Ann kept going. "The thing both of us have a hard time accepting is the way this country is being affected by threats from the Soviets. How can they tell us when to retrieve our own dead? How can they tell us we can only use an HTS spaceplane instead of a shuttle to approach Armstronj Station?" "They have the capability to intercept any spacecraft they feel is hostile," Stuart said. "That's a fact:, A shuttle sortie to Armstrong could be seen as an attempt by us to rearm the station, for all they know with offensive nuclear weapons. A spaceplane doesn't have the cargo capacity to-" "So why don't we tell them that if they shoot down any more unarmed American spacecraft we'll ... retaliate? ... Why are we being pushed around by-" "Ann," Saint-Michael said, giving her a look. She turned to him, asking with her eyes why he was silencing her. He tried to signal back that the argument was going to be made, and soon. "The decision has already been made," Stuart said, sti-

  fling his irritation and surprise. Dr. Page was obviously more than a lady scientist. "Our government has dec;aed it is not going to risk a nuclear. confrontation over Armstrong Space Station. I'm sorry. There are three other private commercial and government research space stations in orbit that need servicing. If we challenge the Soviets on Armstrong, which as you know is badly damaged, and only a few days from reentering the atmosphere, they could shut off all sorties to the other stations."

  Ann was about to respond by pointing out that it never paid to give in to blackmailers but thought better of it. The real issue here was her involvement in the flight. "All right, General. So we use the HTS. We play the game by the Russians' rules. But please . . . no one touches Skybolt but me. It may sound arrogant to say so, but there's no other mission payload specialist qualified to detach Skybolt from the station and attach the payload assist module to it. Remember, Skybolt is a free-electron laser. It uses a controlled nuclear reaction to,create the electron-particle stream necessary for lasing. There's just too much to know about fissionable materials aid triggering devices to make it safe
for anyone but me to do it. "

  Stuart looked steadily at her, finally nodded, more in grudging acceptance than approval. "All right, the crew list is approved as presented. The sortie is scheduled to depart in four days. That will give you three days to recover the crewmen, detach the Skybolt module, attach the PAM, and boost it into its storage orbit. Any difficulties with that rough itinerary?" "I have a problem with the setup, sir," Saint-Michael said.

  Gene Stuart had been steeling himself for this. "I told you that I'd listen to your arguments during this meeting, Jason. I don't know what good it will do, but I'll take your recommendations to the Pentagon and even see to it that they get to the president. But I don't think-" "Ann was right, sit," Saint-Michael began in a rush, trying to provoke Stuart into listening. "We are giving in to blackmail-or, more accurately, to terrorism. We can't let Silver Tower be destroyed. We have got to reactivate the

  station, put it back into its earth suiveillance orbit and repair its systems as soon as possible--" "You're suggesting putting it back into the orbit over the Persian Gulf?" Stuart asked. He shook his head as if he hadn't heard Saint-Michael correctly" "You want to put Armstrong over that laser again? Put it in an orbit where the Soviets can accurately track it and send killer

  satellites to engage it? That's crazy, Jason. Why?" Privately Stuart thought he knew why: Jason was still far from a well man. His doctor was with him and obviously didn't approve his getting involved.... "Because the station's SBR and sensors will be needed in a few days. It will take the Arkhangel carrier battle groug ten days to reach the Arabian Sea within striking distance of the Nintitz. The SBR has to be up and running befibre that." "But the Soviet's laser-" "The laser at Sary Shagan was hardly effective against the station," Saint-Michael interrupted. "True, we suffered some damage, but the station was still operational. If the laser had been any more powerful we would have been out of business long before the spaceplane attack.... Sir, the SEIR has proved its value. It will be needed more than ever if the Nimitz carrier gr oup is cornered in the Gulf of Oman. They'll have their hands full watching the Arkhangel and her escorts, and if they get driven closer and closer to land the Soviets can engage with land-based missiles. They'll need our SBR to protect them." He paused for a moment. "And Skybolt as well. "Skybolt?" Stuart asked. "What has Skybolt got to do with it?" "Skybolt is operational, General," Ann put in quickly. As Stuart's face. went from surprised to skeptical, she hurried on: "It's working again, sir. I managed to repair it just as the Gorgon missile attack was beginning." She paused for a moment, then added, "And I shot down the second Soviet spaceplane with the laser." "What?" Stuart turned on Saint-Michael, who was studying Ann before meeting his commander's surprised expression. "I can't verify that, sir. I was in the command module during the attack, and all power had been lost. We were