Starfire

by Dale Brown

  “The Russians timed those spaceplane launches down to the nanosecond,” Valerie exclaimed.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll shoot down their own spaceplanes,” Kai said. On intercom he spoke: “Attention on station. I want all off-duty personnel in space suits. Rehearse the lifeboat evacuation procedures and make sure you’re ready to board the lifeboats as soon as I give the warning. We’re down to just a few engagements with our defensive weapons, and the Hydra still hasn’t come back up. Casey, time’s up. I want you in a space suit right away. Someone in Life Support give her a hand.”

  “Thirty minutes to DB-One,” Christine reported.

  “Status of the Hydra?” Kai asked.

  “Still down,” Henry said. “I’ll do another hard reset. Trinity fire control is back up, but the station’s spin might be a problem launching interceptors.”

  “Command, this is Jessop in Life Support,” came a call a few minutes later.

  “Go ahead, Larry,” Trevor responded.

  “I can’t open the hatch to the Skybolt module. It appears to be locked from inside.”

  Kai’s eyes flared in surprise. “Casey, what are you doing?” he thundered on intercom.

  “I can fix it!” Casey radioed. “I almost had it before the last brownout! Just a few more minutes!”

  “Negative! Get out of that module right now!”

  “I can fix it, sir! It’s almost ready! Just a few more—”

  “Radar contact, spacecraft,” Christine interjected. “Same altitude, different orbit, range four hundred fifty miles! It will pass by at fifty miles!”

  “Status of the Trinities and Hydra?” Kai asked.

  “Hydra looks like it’s coming up now,” Henry said. “About ten minutes until ready. Trinities are ready, but with the station spin, they might have to expend extra fuel to steer an intercept—”

  “Second radar contact, spacecraft,” Christine reported. “Intersecting orbit, range four hundred eighty miles, passing approximately thirty miles!”

  “Launch commit the Trinities, Valerie,” Kai ordered.

  “Trinities are ready, showing launch commit,” Valerie said. “The computers should adjust the launch for the station spin.”

  “Three hundred miles on first spacecraft.”

  “Trinity one away . . . Trinity two away,” Henry said. A moment later: “Trinities off course . . . wait, regaining course . . . back on course, good track . . . Trinities three and four away . . . good tr—” And suddenly there was a loud BANG! The station shuddered, and several alarms sounded. “Trinity four hit a solar panel!” Henry shouted. “Trinity five away!”

  “Batteries not fully charging,” Alice Hamilton in the Engineering module reported. “Discharge rate is slow, but the other solar panels can’t compensate.”

  “Shut down nonessential equipment,” Kai said. “Casey, get out of that module now! I’m going to power it down!”

  “Hydra is reporting ready!” Henry said.

  “Radar contact spacecraft!” Christine said. “Same orbit, four hundred miles and closing slowly.”

  “Lost contact with Trinities one and two!” Henry shouted. “May have been downed with a laser from that Elektron!”

  “Two hundred miles and closing on spaceplane one.”

  “Engage with Hydra,” Kai ordered.

  “Roger, Combat, clear to engage with Hydra!” Valerie said.

  “Combat copies,” Henry said. “Hydra firing!”

  “Missile launch detection!” Christine reported. “Multiple S-500 launches from near Chkalovsky Air Base!”

  “Direct hit on spaceplane one!” Henry reported. “Nailed him! Shifting track to target two!”

  “Command, Engineering, battery power down to seventy-five percent,” the technician said. “You can fire Hydra two, maybe three more shots! Our solar panels are charging the batteries at only half rate—it’ll take hours to fully recharge them even if you don’t fire any more weapons!”

  Kai thought quickly; then: “Take out that second spaceplane with the Hydra, and use any Trinities we have left on the third spaceplane,” he said.

  Just then they heard Casey shout, “It’s ready! It’s ready!”

  “Casey? I told you to get out of that module!”

  “It’s ready!” she repeated. “Try it!”

  “Hydra engaging second spaceplane!” Henry reported. This time the lights significantly dimmed in the command module.

  “Hydra powered down!” Valerie said. “It drained the batteries below forty percent and shut itself down!”

  “Second spaceplane still inbound.”

  “Try it, General!” Casey said on intercom.

  “Valerie?”

  “Starfire has full continuity,” Valerie said. She looked over at Kai, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. “Permission to spin up the MHD, General.”

  “Go,” Kai said. On intercom he said, “Engineering, Command, permission to spin up the MHD.”

  “Engineering copies,” Alice acknowledged. A moment later the lights dimmed again. “Batteries down to twenty-five percent.”

  “Too bad we can’t plug the MHD generator into station,” Kai said. “We’d have all the power we’d ever need.”

  “Next time, we will,” Trevor said.

  “MHD at twenty-five percent,” Alice said.

  “Spaceplane two closing to one hundred miles,” Christine said. “I’m picking up a target-tracking radar from that spaceplane—he’s locked on to us with something. Spaceplane three closing to two hundred miles. Multiple S-500 missiles still inbound.”

  “High hull temperature warning on the Galaxy module!” Alice reported. “Temperature still rising!”

  “Everyone in the Galaxy module, get into your lifeboats!” Kai shouted. “Move! Engineering, make sure the Galaxy module is—”

  “Hull temperature at limits!” Alice reported about thirty seconds later.

  “Lifeboat one sealed,” Trevor reported.

  “Lifeboat two, seal it up now! Lifeboat two, do you—”

  Suddenly alarms went off throughout the command module. “Galaxy module hull breached,” Alice said. Kai looked at Trevor, who shook his head—lifeboat two was still not sealed up. “Module pressure down to zero.”

  “Spaceplane two is headed away from us,” Christine reported. “Spaceplane three closing to one hundred miles.”

  “Hobnail is locked on to target,” Colonel Galtin reported to his command post. “Request permission to engage.”

  “Permission granted,” the controller said. “Elektron Two had a successful attack. Good luck.”

  I need no luck, Galtin thought—I have Elektron and Hobnail. Seconds later, the radar reported in range and Galtin hit the switch to commit the Hobnail laser.

  “Warning, hull temperature in command module rising!” Alice shouted. “It’ll hit the limit in twenty seconds!”

  “Lifeboats!” Kai shouted. “Move!” But no one moved. Everyone stayed at their stations . . . because Kai did not unstrap himself from his seat, they were not going to do so either.

  “MHD is at one hundred percent!” Alice reported.

  “Valerie, go!”

  “Combat, Starfire commit! Shoot!”

  The first indication that something had happened was the acidy smell of burning electronics, even though Galtin was sealed up in his space suit. The second was the astounding scene of his instrument panel sparking, arcing, and finally setting itself afire, all in the blink of an eye. The third was a warning tone in his headphones indicating a complete system failure, although he could no longer see the status of any of his systems. The last thing he encountered was his space suit filling with smoke, then he briefly felt the oxygen in his suit explode . . .

  . . . seconds before his Elektron spaceplane exploded into a billion pieces and spread across space in a fiery spear; then the oxidizer was consumed and the fire blanked itself out.

  “Spaceplane three eliminated,” Christine said. “Still multiple S-500 missi
les inbound, about sixty seconds.”

  “Hull temperature stabilizing,” Alice reported. “MHD and Starfire are in the green. Batteries are down to ten percent. At five percent the station will shut down to allow the remaining battery power to drive lifeboat release mechanisms, air pumps, emergency lights and alarms, and rescue beacons.”

  “Can we get the rest of those S-500s with the power we have left?” Trevor asked.

  “We got no choice but to try,” Valerie said.

  “No, not the missiles—the S-500 radar and control truck,” Kai said. “Maybe that will take out the missiles.”

  Valerie hurriedly called up the last-known S-500 site at Chkalovsky Air Base northeast of Moscow and used Armstrong Space Station’s powerful radar and optronic sensors to scan the area. The S-500 transporter-erector-launchers had moved to the south side of the airport in three widely separated emplacements, but the radar truck, command vehicle, and power and hydraulic generator truck were in the same location as previously cataloged. The trucks were located in a vacant area of the large aircraft parking ramp, where long lines of Antonov-72, Ilyushin-76, and -86 transport planes were lined up; farther down the ramp were two rows of five MiG-31D antisatellite-missile launch planes, each with a 9K720 antisatellite missile waiting to be loaded aboard. “Target acquired!” Christine shouted.

  “Combat, shoot!” Valerie ordered.

  “Starfire engaged!” Henry shouted . . .

  . . . and just seconds later, all power in the command module went completely out, leaving only emergency exit lights. Kai hit a button on his console, and an alarm bell sounded, along with the computerized words, “All personnel, report to lifeboats immediately! All personnel, report to lifeboats immediately!”

  The maser beam from Armstrong Space Station fired for less than two seconds . . . but traveling at five miles every second, the beam was able to sweep across almost the entire length of Chkalovsky Air Base before extinguishing.

  The S-500 command, power, and radar trucks sparkled as the beam swept across them, and moments later their fuel tanks exploded, setting all of them afire. Next were the transport planes, which one by one burst open like overripe melons, transforming hundreds of thousands of gallons of jet fuel instantly into huge mushroom clouds of fire. The same fate awaited the MiG-31D fighters, fed by ten exploding 9K720 solid rocket booster motors that launched several of the missiles spinning through the sky for miles—and spreading radioactive material from two of the missiles’ micronuclear warheads. The beam shut down the base operations building, destroyed several more parked and taxiing aircraft, and then detonated several aircraft inside their maintenance hangars, obliterating each hangar in a spectacular fireball.

  Casey heard the alarm and hurriedly began unstrapping herself from her seat in the Skybolt module. There was no lifeboat in the Skybolt module, but she knew that the closest one was in the Engineering module just “above” hers. She donned her emergency oxygen mask, then looked up and saw Larry Jessop the life-support guy looking through the window in the hatch waiting for her. She smiled and was about to unlock the hatch . . .

  . . . when a tremendous explosion rocked the station. The destruction of the S-500 command and control vehicles at Chkalovsky had nullified guidance to all of the 9K720 missiles . . . except for the first four that had been launched and had locked on to Armstrong Space Station with their own terminal guidance sensors. All four made direct hits, and the fourth missile hit squarely on the Skybolt module.

  Casey turned and saw nothing but planet Earth beneath her through the gaping, sparking hole that seconds ago was her Starfire microwave cavity and Skybolt. She smiled and thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life. As she watched, the spectacular blues and whites of the spinning planet below her feet slowly faded into shades of gray. It was not as beautiful as before, but she still marveled at her home planet right there—she even thought she could see her home, and she smiled, thinking of the next time she would go home and see her parents and her brothers and sisters and tell them about this incredible adventure. She smiled, her mom and dad’s faces smiling back at her, and felt happy and a little euphoric, until her vision tunneled closed into blackness seconds later as the last of her oxygen seeped out of her body.

  The S-500S missiles tore into Armstrong Space Station. Boomer and Brad watched in absolute horror as modules were either hit or ripped off when the station started to cartwheel through space. “Midnight, this is Shadow,” Boomer radioed. “Hold on, guys. I’ll be over there in a minute. We’ll transfer you out through the cockpit and through the hole in the fuselage.”

  There was no reply for several long moments; then, a sleepy, tired voice radioed, “I don’t think . . . even . . . the great spaceplane pilot . . . Hunter ‘Boomer’ Noble could . . . could match this spin,” Vice President Ann Page said. “Save your fuel. Retrieve the lifeboats. I’m . . . I’m hypoxic, I don’t see . . . see any lights on Gonzo’s suit . . . save your fuel and . . . and retrieve the lifeboats, Boomer. That’s an . . . an order.”

  “I’m not in your chain of command, Miss Vice President,” Boomer said. “Hang on. Stay with me.”

  “Brad?” they heard. “Brad, can . . . can you hear me?”

  “Sondra!” Brad exclaimed. “We’re going to rendezvous with you! Hang on!”

  There was silence for a long time, and Brad’s mouth was quickly turning dry. Then they heard in the tiniest of voices: “Brad?”

  “Sondra, don’t worry,” Brad said. “We’ll be there as fast as we can!”

  “Brad? I . . . I’m sorry. I . . .”

  “Sondra!” Brad cried out. “Hang on! We’ll rescue you! Hang on!” But as they watched the crippled space station spin away, they knew it would not be possible to try a rescue.

  BLACK ROCK DESERT

  NORTH OF RENO, NEVADA

  ONE WEEK LATER

  Defying federal orders, thousands of vehicles of every description were parked at the edge of the Black Rock Desert in northwestern Nevada at the terminus of Highway 447 to witness something that no one believed they would ever see in their lifetimes. The Black Rock Desert was the home of the world-famous Burning Man Festival, where thousands of artists, adventurers, and counterculture free spirits gathered every summer to celebrate freedom and life . . . but this would be a day on the playa that would represent death.

  “I guess it is returning home,” Brad McLanahan said. He was seated in a lawn chair on the roof of a rented RV. Beside him on one side was Jodie Cavendish, on the other was Boomer Noble, and behind them, clearly separating himself from the others, was Kim Jung-bae. They had just concluded a series of press interviews with the dozens of news agencies that had come out to witness this incredible event, but now they had broken away from the reporters several minutes before the appointed time so they could be by themselves.

  Jodie turned to Jung-bae and put a hand on his leg. “It’s okay, Jerry,” she said. Jung-bae lowered his head. He had been weeping ever since they had arrived on the playa and had refused to talk with anyone. “It’s not your fault.”

  “It is my fault,” Jung-bae said. “I am responsible for this.” And for the millionth time since the test firing, he said, “I am so sorry, guys. I am so sorry.”

  Brad reflected back on the events over the past week. After realizing they could not rescue the persons trapped in the Midnight spaceplane, he and Boomer had returned to the area where the three lifeboats had been jettisoned before the Russian S-500S missiles had hit the station. Boomer had exited the cockpit, suited up, gone into the cargo bay, and jettisoned the last few remaining pieces of cargo. With Brad at the controls of the Shadow spaceplane, he had maneuvered them to each of the lifeboats, and Boomer reeled them into the cargo bay. After hooking up oxygen, power, and communications cables, they made a transfer-orbit burn and entered the International Space Station’s orbit.

  It took almost two days, but they finally rendezvoused with the ISS. Sky Masters had flown up two station technici
ans on commercial spacecraft to power up the station and bring supplies, and they used the robot arms to attach the lifeboats to docking ports. All of Armstrong’s crewmembers had to spend a night in an airlock pressurized with pure oxygen to ward off nitrogen narcosis, but afterward they were all deemed fit to fly, and they returned to Earth the next day.

  Brad’s smartphone beeped a warning. “It’s time,” he said.

  They watched and waited. Before long they could see what looked like a star grow brighter and brighter in the cloudless Nevada sky. It grew brighter and brighter, and everyone parked on the playa thought they could actually feel heat from the object . . . and then suddenly there was a tremendous earsplitting sound, like a thousand cannons going off all at once. Car windshields cracked, and cars rocked on their wheels—Brad thought he was going to be jostled right off the roof of the RV.

  The star turned into a spectacular ball of fire that grew and grew, trailing fire behind it for a hundred miles, until the ball started to break apart. Seconds later there was another tremendous explosion, and twenty miles to the north the spectators saw a massive ball of fire at least five miles in diameter, followed by a rapidly growing mushroom cloud of fire, sand, and debris. They saw a huge wall of sand and smoke thousands of feet high rushing toward them, but just as they were thinking they should retreat inside their vehicles, the wall began to dissipate, and it thankfully disappeared long before it reached them.

  “So long, Silver Tower,” Boomer said. Jung-bae was openly and loudly sobbing behind them, crying in sheer anguish at the thought of his friend Casey Huggins in that maelstrom. “It was nice flying with you, old buddy.”

  SAN LUIS OBISPO COUNTY REGIONAL AIRPORT

  THE NEXT EVENING

  After observing the final flight of Armstrong Space Station, Brad McLanahan and Jodie Cavendish had done more media interviews in Reno and San Francisco, then they flew the turbine P210 Silver Eagle back to San Luis Obispo. Night had already fallen. They had just pushed the plane into the hangar and were unloading their few pieces of luggage when Chris Wohl appeared at the hangar door. “You must be Sergeant Major Wohl,” Jodie said, extending a hand. After a moment Chris took it. “Brad has told me a lot about you.”