by Dale Brown
Patrick took a sip of water from a squeeze bottle Velcroed to the bulkhead and was amused to find a line of nervous sweat on his upper lip. How many briefings, he thought, had he given during his over two decades of military service? None, he reminded himself wryly, from space before! Briefing four-star generals was nerve-racking enough, but doing it while flying at over seventeen thousand miles an hour over two hundred miles above Earth made it even more challenging.
“Armstrong Space Station is the ultimate expression of taking the ‘high ground’ and is, I believe, the centerpiece of America’s stated goal of maintaining access and control of space,” Patrick went on. “It and the Black Stallion spaceplanes constitute the foundation of what I call the U.S. Space Defense Command, an integrated joint services command that manages all space-based offensive and defensive assets and supports terrestrial theater commanders with reliable, high-speed communications, intelligence, reconnaissance, attack, and transportation services from space. Our mission will be to—”
“That’s very interesting, General McLanahan,” National Security Adviser Carlyle interjected with a wry and rather bemused expression, “and as interesting as the idea was when you first proposed it last year, that sort of organization is still many years down the road — we don’t have time to bring back Buck Rogers right now. Can we move on to a discussion of the Iran operations, General Bain?”
“Of course, Mr. Adviser. General McLanahan?”
“Yes, sir,” Patrick said expressionlessly — he was quite accustomed to being tuned out, interrupted, and ignored whenever he brought up his idea of the U.S. Space Defense Command. “Along with all of the other advanced technological capabilities of this station, my staff has recently added another: the ability to control remotely piloted tactical aircraft and their weapons from space. We demonstrated the capability of controlling an unmanned supersonic EB-1C Vampire bomber completely from this station throughout all phases of flight, including several aerial refuelings and hypersonic precision-guided weapon deployment, in real time and with complete man-in-the-loop control. Our communications and networking abilities are entirely and quickly scalable and expandable, and I envision the capability of controlling entire air task forces of potentially hundreds of unmanned combat aircraft, from small reconnaissance micro-UAVs to giant cruise missile haulers, right from Armstrong — securely, safely, and virtually unassailable.”
Patrick stuck his briefing notes on the bulkhead. “I hope all of you have received my after-action report on the employment of the XAGM-279 SkySTREAK hypersonic precision-guided cruise missile in Tehran,” he said. “The attack was a complete success. The operational test was terminated due to the unintended and unfortunate casualties caused by detonation of an apparent chemical weapon warhead on the target rocket. The casualties were caused by the unexpected detonation of the chemical weapon warhead on the insurgent attacker’s rocket, not by the SkySTREAK missile, and therefore—”
“And as I stated in my comments on McLanahan’s report,” Air Force chief of staff General Charles Huffman interjected, “I believe the SkySTREAK weapon was not the appropriate weapon to use and could negatively impact our efforts to de-escalate the conflict in Iran and bring about a negotiated settlement between the warring parties. Iran was not the right place to test that weapon, and it appears to me that General McLanahan skewed his proposal and the weapon’s potential effects in order to dramatize his system. Firing SkySTREAK on his restricted ranges in Nevada wouldn’t have had such a ‘wow’ factor as watching one slam into an insurgent pickup truck. Unfortunately, his magic show resulted in the deaths of dozens of innocent civilians, including women and children, by poison gas.”
Joint Chiefs chairman Bain shook his head, then looked straight ahead at his videoconference camera. “General McLanahan?” His brow furrowed as he looked at Patrick’s image on the videoconference screen: Patrick was taking another deep sip from a squeeze bottle, and seemed to have some difficulty re-Velcroing the bottle to the bulkhead. “Care to respond?”
Patrick nodded, placing a hand up to his mouth to corral an errant drop of water. “Sorry, sir. Even simple tasks like drinking water take a little extra concentration up here. Almost everything requires a conscious effort.”
“Understood, Patrick. I’ve ridden the ‘Vomit Comet’ a couple times so I know what zero-G can do to someone, but it’s nothing like living the experience 24/7.” The ‘Vomit Comet’ was a modified C-135 cargo plane flown on a roller-coaster-like flight path that allowed several seconds of weightlessness for the occupants during its steep descent. “Any comment on General Huffman’s report?”
“I didn’t think it was necessary for me to respond with a strong denial, sir,” Patrick said, “but to make myself perfectly clear: General Huffman’s analysis is dead wrong. I assembled the SkySTREAK operational test exactly as delineated in the general’s air tasking order: a precision-guided aerial standoff attack force to support Persian anti-insurgent operations with minimal collateral casualties or damage. We didn’t stray outside the ATO one iota.
“I’d like to point out a few other things as well, if I may, sir.” He didn’t wait for permission to continue: “SkySTREAK was approved by the general’s operations staff, along with eight other task forces and units that are operating over Tehran and other cities in Free Persia. So far SkySTREAK has been the only unit to successfully engage any insurgents, even though all the other units have access to the Global Hawk’s sensor imagery, Armstrong Space Station’s automated surveillance system, and even to SkySTREAK’s sensor downlinks. In short, sir, SkySTREAK is working.”
“And the civilian casualties?”
“A result of the detonation of the insurgent warhead, sir — it wasn’t caused by SkySTREAK.”
“It was caused by your missile, McLanahan,” Huffman interjected. “You were briefed about the possibility of the insurgents using weapons of mass destruction in Tehran and directed to withhold and request enhanced analysis of the target before engaging. You failed to do that, which resulted in unnecessary civilian casualties.”
“As I see it, sir, we limited the casualty count by taking out that Ra’ad rocket before the insurgents had a chance to launch it.”
“Be that as it may, McLanahan, you failed to follow my directives,” Huffman said. “The technology’s not at fault here. But because of your error in judgment, the whole program might be shut down.”
“I’m not quite ready to shut anything down yet, Charlie,” General Bain said. “My staff and I have reviewed the report submitted by General McLanahan and your response, with a special emphasis on the issue of collateral civilian casualties. My intelligence directorate looked at all spectrums of the Global Hawk surveillance video and the space station’s own network of sensors. Everyone has concluded that it would have been possible to determine with certainty that the rocket indeed carried a chemical warhead, and that nearby innocent civilians were at risk if the rocket was hit and the warhead detonated and activated.” Huffman smiled and nodded confidently…
…until Bain glared at the Air Force chief of staff, held up a hand, and continued: “…if General McLanahan had the time to study freeze-frame hi-res imagery for at least ninety seconds, sitting at a desk at Langley, Beale, or Lackland Air Force Bases instead of falling around planet Earth traveling at seventeen thousand five hundred miles per hour, or if he had taken the time to consult with expert analysts on the ground; and if he wasn’t a three-star general officer and an Air Force tactical officer and air weapons expert and wasn’t expected to make command decisions such as this. However, if he had taken the time to ask or had decided not to attack, we feel that the loss of life would’ve been far greater if the rocket had dispersed its deadly payload as designed.
“The civilian loss of life is regrettable and is something we wish to avoid at all costs, but in this case we feel General McLanahan made a proper decision in line with his rules of engagement and is not responsible for the loss of life. Therefore, the command staff
will not convene an investigation board on the matter, unless other evidence is brought forward, and considers the case closed. General McLanahan is free to continue his patrols over Iran as directed and as originally planned with the extra patrols added back into the package, and the joint staff recommends to the National Command Authority that he be allowed to do so.
“On a personal note, I wish to commend General McLanahan and his crews for a job well done,” Bain added. “I have no idea what the difficulties of working and living in space could be like, but I imagine the stress levels to be enormous and the operating conditions to be challenging to say the least. You and your people are doing a great job in tough circumstances.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“This concludes my portion of the video teleconference. Mr. Carlyle, any remarks or questions?” Patrick looked at the image of the National Security Adviser, but he was busy talking on the telephone. “Well, it looks like Mr. Carlyle is already busy on another matter, so we’ll log off. Thank you, every—”
“Hold on a minute, General Bain,” Conrad Carlyle interjected. “Stand by.” Carlyle shifted his seat sideways, the camera zoomed back, widening the view to three seats at the conference table in the White House…and a moment later, the President of the United States, Joseph Gardner, took his place with Carlyle, along with White House chief of staff Walter Kordus, a tall but rather slight man who seemed to wear a perpetual scowl.
Cameras — any kind of camera, even relatively lo-res videoconference ones — loved Joseph Gardner. Dark-haired, thin, and square-jawed, he possessed that strange, almost mystical appearance that defied any efforts by anyone to classify him by ethnicity — at the very same time he looked Italian, Iberian, Black Irish, Latin American, even round-eyed Asian — and therefore he appealed to all of them. He exuded immense self-confidence from every pore, and seemed to project authority like laser beams through his dark green eyes. After just a couple years of his two terms in the U.S. Senate, everyone knew he was destined for bigger and better things.
Being from the state of Florida and coming from a long line of Navy veterans, Gardner had always been a big advocate of a strong navy. Nominated for Secretary of the Navy by then-President Kevin Martindale in his first term, Gardner pushed hard for a grand expansion of the Navy, not just in its traditional maritime roles but in a lot of nontraditional ones as well, such as nuclear warfighting, space, tactical aviation, and ballistic missile defense. Just as the Army was America’s primary ground fighting service, he argued, with the Marine Corps as a support service, the Navy should be the leader in maritime warfare and tactical aviation, with the Air Force as its support service. His rather radical “out-of-the-box” ideas had many skeptics but nonetheless got a lot of attention and favorable support from Congress and the American people…
…even before the utter devastation of the American Holocaust, in which Russian long-range bombers armed with nuclear-tipped cruise missiles decimated all but a handful of America’s intercontinental ballistic missiles and strategic nuclear-capable long-range bombers. In just a few hours, the U.S. Navy suddenly became the one and only service able to project American military power around the globe, and at the same time virtually the sole keeper of America’s nuclear deterrent forces, which were seen as absolutely vital for the very survival of the United States of America in its weakened condition.
Joseph Gardner, the “engineer of the American twenty-first century Navy,” was suddenly regarded as a true visionary and the nation’s savior. In Martindale’s second term of office, Gardner was nominated and unanimously confirmed as Secretary of Defense, and he was universally acknowledged as the de facto Vice President and National Security Adviser rolled into one. His popularity soared, and there were few around the world who doubted he would become the next President of the United States.
“Greetings, gents,” Gardner said after positioning himself just so before the videoconference camera. “Thought I’d drop in on your little chat here.”
“Welcome, Mr. President,” Joint Chiefs of Staff chairman Taylor Bain said. He was obviously perturbed at this very unexpected interruption of his meeting, but tried hard not to show it. “We’d be happy to start the briefing over again, sir.”
“Not necessary,” the President said. “I have information that is pertinent to the purpose of this meeting, and I thought the best and most expeditious way to get it to you was to just break in.”
“You’re welcome at any time, sir,” Bain said. “Please go on. The floor is yours.”
“Thanks, Taylor,” the President said. “I just got off the phone with Russian president Zevitin. General McLanahan?”
“Yes, sir.”
“He claims you fired a missile at one of his reconnaissance planes in international airspace, and when the missile missed you seriously damaged the aircraft with high-powered radioactive beams called T-waves or some such thing. He also claims a missile fired by one of your aircraft killed several dozen innocent civilians in Tehran, including women and children. Care to explain?”
“He’s lying, sir,” McLanahan replied immediately. “None of that is true.”
“Is that so?” He held up a piece of paper. “I have a copy of the Air Force chief of staff’s summary of the incident which seems to say pretty much the same thing. So both the president of Russia and the chief of staff are lying, and you’re telling me the truth, General? Is that what you want me to believe?”
“We’ve just discussed the incident and the issues brought forth by General Huffman, sir,” Bain said, “and I’ve ruled that McLanahan acted properly and as directed and was not responsible for the civilian deaths—”
“And as for Zevitin or anyone else at the Kremlin, sir,” McLanahan cut in, “I wouldn’t believe one word any of them said.”
“General McLanahan, scores of innocent Iranians are dead by chemical weapons and a Russian reconnaissance pilot is badly injured by radiation fired at him by one of your bombers,” the President retorted. “The world thinks you’re starting another shooting war with Russia in the Middle East and is demanding answers and accountability. This is no time for your bigoted attitude.” Patrick shook his head and turned away, reaching for his water bottle, and the President’s eyes widened in anger. “You have something else to say to me, General?” Patrick turned back to the camera, then looked at his outstretched arm in confusion, as if he had forgotten why he had extended it. “Is something the matter with you, McLanahan?”
“N — no, sir…” Patrick responded in a muted voice. He missed the water bottle, felt for it, grasped it, then used too much force to rip it from its Velcro mooring and sent it spinning across the module.
“What? I can’t hear you.” Gardner’s eyes squinted in confusion as he watched the water bottle fly away out of sight. “What’s going on there? Where are you, General? Why are you moving like that?”
“He’s on Armstrong Space Station, sir,” General Bain said.
“On the space station? He’s in orbit? Are you kidding me? What are you doing up there?”
“As the commander of his task force operating from space, I authorized General McLanahan to oversee the operation from the space station,” Bain explained, “just as any commanding officer would take charge of his forces from a forward-deployed command ship or—”
“On the bridge or CIC of a destroyer, yes, but not on a damned space station!” President Gardner shot back. “I want him off that thing immediately! He’s a three-star general, for God’s sake, not Buck Rogers!”
“Sir, if I may, can we address the question of the air strike on the insurgent rocket launcher and the actions against the Russian aircraft?” General Bain said, worriedly looking on as Valerie Lukas checked on Patrick. “We’ve conducted a review of the reconnaissance data, and we’ve determined—”
“It couldn’t have been a very thorough review if the incident happened just a couple hours ago, General,” the President said. He turned to the National Security Adviser seated beside hi
m. “Conrad?”
“It’s a preliminary review of the same sensor data from the Global Hawk unmanned recon plane and the space station’s radars that General McLanahan and his crew saw before they attacked, sir,” Carlyle responded. “General Bain and his experts at the Pentagon reviewed the images as if they had been asked before the attack if the target was legitimate based on the rules of engagement established by us under the attack order, as is required if there is any uncertainty as to the safety to noncombatants due to weapon effects or collateral damage. The videoconference was convened as a preliminary incident review to determine if a more detailed investigation would be warranted.”
“And?”
“General Bain has ruled that, although it could have been possible for General McLanahan to anticipate civilian casualties, his order to engage was justified and proper based on the information at hand, the threat of more civilian deaths at the hands of the insurgents, and his authority under the attack plan,” Carlyle responded. “He is recommending to the Secretary of Defense and to you that no further investigation is warranted and that McLanahan be allowed to continue his operation as planned, with the full complement of missile launch bombers instead of just one.”
“Is that so?” The President paused for a moment, then shook his head. “General Bain, you’re telling me that you thought it was proper that McLanahan attack a target knowing that so many civilian noncombatants were nearby, and that such an attack is within the letter and spirit of my executive order authorizing a hunt for insurgents in Iran?” he retorted. “I think you have grossly misinterpreted my orders. I thought I was being very plain and specific: I don’t want any noncombatant casualties. Was that not clear to you, General Bain?”