Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1)

Home > Other > Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) > Page 31
Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1) Page 31

by Parker, Gavin E


  Kostovich gleaned this information from his backdoor into the USAN information systems. The true nature of Ares-H 17’s original purpose was shrouded from public view. The fact that S-Com rented it out to the military was not public knowledge; in fact, S-Com maintained some fairly mundane coms traffic through the satellite’s systems to help maintain the cover of its military use. Kostovich knew though, and he was anxious about the possible sensitivity around taking out a piece of USAN hardware, albeit one that was no longer used and was weeks away from being scrapped.

  Usually he would have just ploughed ahead and done it. He was well aware of the inherent dangers in asking for people’s permission to do things. Generally, he preferred to apologise later, where necessary, rather than get bogged down in discussion, argument and counterargument. This time, however, he wanted to get explicit permission from somewhere. He was, after all, going to be detonating a nuclear bomb.

  He called from his terminal and got through to Venkdt’s PA.

  “Hey there. Is Mr Venkdt available?”

  “Hello, Dr Kostovich. Please hold while I check.” The image switched from the PA to a Venkdt promotional video. Seconds later the PA reappeared. “I’ll patch you through.”

  Kostovich was midway through his ‘Thank you’ when the screen switched and Venkdt appeared. “Hi, Dan,” he said, “how can I help?”

  “Hello, Charles,” said Kostovich, still feeling uncomfortable using the forename, “I just want to run something by you. For advice, you know?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “As I’m sure you know the orbiting Parry system has now been successfully assembled. I want to test the weapons systems on an old satellite, but, well, it used to be used by the USAN Army.”

  “Used to be?”

  “Yes. It’s weeks away from being permanently decommissioned. They haven’t used it for five years.”

  “Okay.” Venkdt thought. “But it’s a USAN satellite?”

  “No, it’s owned by S-Com, they rent it to them. We’d be doing them a favour, saving them the cost of the decommission.”

  “It’s privately owned junk, then?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “So why are you asking me?”

  Kostovich thought. “Just because of the USAN connection, I suppose. And I guess you now have overall authority over Martian airspace.”

  “Dan, if it’s defunct just use it.”

  “Yes, that’s what I thought.”

  Kostovich had one of the old offices in his department refitted as the comcon for the missile batteries. He decided that the room should be manned at all times, and that the batteries should be constantly monitored. This was not strictly necessary as the systems were fully automated and capable of making complex decisions independent of human input. He could also tap into the system from his terminal, should that be necessary. But he thought that such an important system, and one with such destructive potential, should be seen to be being controlled by human beings. This was despite the fact that the human element, in reality, added a layer of uncertainty that increased any potential unreliability. Kostovich was canny enough to know that appearances are everything, so here he found himself at the control site flanked by two of his research assistants who had very recently been seconded into the MSS as weapons engineers.

  The overall system had been christened “Parry.” In a meeting explaining the mechanics, goals and financing of the system Kostovich had presented the name to a less than enthusiastic response.

  “Why Parry?” asked Christina Venkdt.

  “Well,” said Kostovich, “it’s a defensive system, so when the enemy tries to attack, we will Parry.”

  There were some half-hearted nods.

  “I did consider The Sword of Ares,” said Kostovich, “but I thought that was a bit melodramatic. I have to admit I hesitated over Parry Missile System, because of the acronym.”

  “I don’t know; massive retaliation to any perceived slight - PMS works for me,” Foveaux had said.

  “Anyway, I think we’ve settled on Parry Missile System now. Can we all agree on that?”

  Because there was a pressing practical need to pursue the building of the system that had been the full extent of the debate over its name. Had a potential threat not been imminent there may have still been a naming committee running even now, thought Kostovich.

  The Parry system was owned by Kostovich. Venkdt, for now, and in time the Martian administration, were picking up the bill, but it was Kostovich’s project. He had installed himself as Chief Operating Officer, arguing that for the initial period the system could still be considered to be in development. As the Chief Operating Officer he could test the system in operation and tweak it accordingly. It would remove a layer of bureaucracy and potential miscommunication, speeding things up. Plus it was cool to be in charge of a missile system.

  The surface batteries had performed well in their testing, matching or surpassing the computer models. Testing the orbiting platform, Parry 5, would be much more of a challenge. The distance to the platform would make a difference, and the targets would be smaller and faster, too. Though Parry 5 was free from the worst of Martian gravity, and as such had many advantages compared to its surface based brethren, it had to cover a much wider area. It had a more advanced and sensitive detection system and its longer range missiles were adapted to the space environment.

  Kostovich had run each test many times in simulated models before the day of the actual tests. He knew what to expect and how the tests should run in sequence, one after the other, and he knew what the effects should be. He had a coms line to Ares-H 17 and could monitor its output. It was mostly redundant data, but it was a steady stream and was useful just for that.

  He had briefed his team extensively. They all knew what to expect. The tests would be a straightforward drill, A followed by B, followed by the gathering of data C. It would be just another day at the office.

  Parry 5 was in geostationary orbit over the Martian capital Marineris. Ares-H 17 was orbiting the planet once every hour and ten minutes. Kostovich aimed to run one test for the next three times Ares-H 17 came past. The tests should last a little over two and a half hours in total. His team were well briefed. Siena Walton was a senior research assistant and Thomas Baldwin was a very promising postgraduate student. Kostovich had picked them himself and had given them a crash course in overseeing his Parry missile command and control setup.

  As it passed by Parry 5 on each orbit Ares-H 17 would be five hundred kilometres away at its nearest point, and moving at a speed of more than seven kilometres per second. As soon as it cleared the horizon Parry 5 would be able to track it. The Parry system made helpful suggestions, informing the team that the satellite was unarmed, unmanned and safe to ignore. Kostovich instructed Walton to arm two EMP missiles and continue tracking. They had tracked Ares-H 17 on its previous flyby and knew there was nothing likely to be any different about this spin around the planet.

  Periodically, Baldwin read out some data regarding the satellite. It was entirely unnecessary as all three of them were monitoring the tracking data on their screens. Kostovich let it go. It sounded significant and serious.

  “Ares-H 17 is now at approximately fifteen hundred kilometres range, closing fast,” said Baldwin.

  “Prepare the EMPs for launch,” said Kostovich.

  “EMPs ready for launch,” said Walton.

  “Check the distance for detonation is set for three hundred metres,” said Kostovich.

  “Three hundred metres, check,” said Walton.

  “Where is she now?” said Kostovich.

  “Twelve hundred kilometres,” said Baldwin.

  “Okay,” said Kostovich. “We’ll launch at one thousand kilometres.”

  “Launch at one thousand kilometres, check,” said Walton.

  “Eleven hundred kilometres,” said Baldwin.

  “Whenever you’re ready, I guess,” said Kostovich.

  Walton was staring intensely at her scre
en. She nodded almost imperceptibly at Kostovich’s last command. She watched the tracker’s numbers spinning down from eleven hundred. As they hit the magic thousand she pressed a button on her terminal and with a release of breath she got out the words, “Missiles away.”

  Baldwin could immediately track the EMPs as they streaked away from Parry 5. “Missiles away, confirmed,” he said. “Readings for both missiles are good at this time. Forty seconds to detonation.”

  “Confirmed, forty seconds,” said Walton.

  Kostovich looked to his screen. He could see a blip representing Ares-H 17, alternating between green and blue, moving laterally from right to left, and to two smaller red blips moving upwards. The green-blue blip and the red blips appeared to be converging on space in the centre of the screen. Although he had been through this many times he once again explained it to Walton and Baldwin. “Green is Ares-H 17,” he said, “blue is Ares-H 17’s electrical activity. This time around we are aiming to take out blue and leave green.”

  “Twenty five seconds to go,” said Baldwin.

  “Missiles looking healthy, adjusting course for rendezvous with target,” said Walton.

  “I’m liking it so far,” said Kostovich. “Just like the simulations.”

  “Fifteen seconds,” said Baldwin.

  “I have some late minor adjustments to trajectory here,” said Walton. “Looking good.”

  “Ten seconds.”

  Kostovich could see the green-blue blip and the red blips almost touching.

  “Five seconds, all systems normal.”

  They all lifted their heads from their individual terminals to look at the large display in front of the consoles. The green blue blip was now joined by the red blips. As they looked, the red blips disappeared. A solitary green blip continued its journey toward the left side of the screen.

  Walton looked back down to her console. “I have two successful detonations, final telemetry from both missiles suggests successful detonations three hundred metres from the target as planned.”

  “Data feed from the target has dried up,” said Baldwin.

  “This is good,” said Kostovich. “Exactly like the simulations. Good work people. Shall we go for a cup of tea while we wait for her to come round again?”

  They reconvened half an hour later to go through the same process again. They waited for Ares-H 17 to come back around. This time they fired standard explosive missiles. Not wanting to destroy the satellite, but needing to test the accuracy of their system, they had set the missiles to detonate at a distance from Ares-H 17 such that they would be able to knock it very slightly out of its path of orbit.

  Red dots and green dots once again converged on the screen and again the green dot continued on its path.

  “I’m analysing the trajectory of Ares-H 17 in comparison to the previous orbits,” said Baldwin.

  “Missile telemetry indicates successful detonation in the selected areas,” said Walton. “Four for four,” she added, and Kostovich grinned.

  “How’s that trajectory data coming?” he said to Baldwin.

  “I need a little longer,” Baldwin replied. “We’ve given her such a tiny jog I need her to travel a bit further before I can see if we’ve made a difference,” he said.

  Kostovich, having been through this experience many times in the simulations, knew this would be the case. But he was enjoying the novelty of working closely with other people and asking them questions, especially when he knew what the answers should be.

  “Okay,” said Baldwin. “Her orbit has definitely changed. We gave her a shove.”

  “That is compatible with my data from the missiles and what I would have expected,” said Walton.

  Kostovich nodded, “That’s exactly right. We just tickled a satellite moving at more than seven kilometres per second, precisely how and where we wanted to. I think we can call this second test a success. Not only can we place our missiles on a postage stamp, we can place them on a postage stamp that’s going really fast. Well done everyone. Is it too soon for more tea?”

  They had each viewed the previous tests as routine. The systems had been well tested in simulation and were based on systems that had had many practical tests on Earth. The final test would be the first time that any of them had ever detonated a nuclear bomb. They viewed it as somewhat exceptional.

  Kostovich had all the data he needed now, from the simulations and the earlier practical tests, to demonstrate that the missile guidance systems were extremely accurate and reliable. A nuclear weapon, being something of a blunt tool, did not rely as the previous two types of missile did on accuracy. The test here was simply to see if the thing would detonate as planned.

  When Ares-H 17 came around for the final time she might well have expected to have continued travelling on her way unmolested. She had been spinning around Mars for many years and had made the journey hundreds of thousands of times. Why should she expect this time to be any different? Maybe she had been tipped off by the odd occurrences on the last two journeys, packed with more incident than the previous thousands. First, she had been stripped of her senses and then, adding insult to injury, she had been most rudely shoved. Surely things couldn’t get any worse.

  When she was fifteen hundred kilometres off from Parry 5 Kostovich went through the same routine with Baldwin and Walton. He asked them to feed him data on the well-being of his missiles and the trajectory of the doomed satellite. Baldwin and Walton were well rehearsed from the many simulations they had taken part in.

  “Arm the warhead,” said Kostovich.

  “The warhead is armed,” said Walton.

  “Twelve hundred kilometres,” said Baldwin.

  “Prepare to launch missile,” said Kostovich.

  “Missile is prepped and ready,” said Walton.

  “Once again, launch at a thousand kilometres,” said Kostovich.

  Walton looked at her screen, timing the launch to perfection. “Missile away,” she said.

  “Missile is on track and on speed,” said Baldwin.

  “Telemetry is A-okay,” said Walton.

  “We can expect detonation in thirty seconds,” said Baldwin.

  Kostovich had set the nuclear missile to detonate five hundred metres in front of Ares-H 17. The satellite would be within the blast radius and travelling at speed towards the centre of it.

  “Fifteen seconds,” said Baldwin. “Looking good.”

  “Telemetry is good,” said Walton.

  “I’m patching a visual through to the main display,” said Kostovich. The display showed the curve of the Martian horizon with the blackness of space beyond. He hadn’t bothered with visuals for the previous two tests because, due to the great distance of his monitoring satellite, there would have been nothing to see.

  “Five seconds,” said Baldwin.

  They looked at the main screen and waited. There was a tiny flash, almost like a glitch on the video feed, followed by a small orange blossoming over the Martian horizon.

  “Successful detonation,” said Walton.

  “I concur,” said Baldwin.

  “I concur, too,” said Kostovich. “Did you see that? We got it, three for three. The system is good, the test is successful. Let’s set some AIs running through the data and go home.”

  Kostovich sent Walton and Baldwin home. He had a cursory look through the data but he knew it was good. He’d seen the same data many times before in his computer models, but he set his AIs to it for a deep analysis. He was aware that this was a vaguely historic event, so he needed to be thorough. Before he left for the night he put a private call through to Charles Venkdt.

  Venkdt was in a bathrobe, getting ready for bed. He took the call anyway.

  “Hi Charles, I just thought you’d like to know that we’ve just put Parry 5 through her paces and she is looking really good.”

  “That’s good to know, Dan.”

  “We did three sets of tests, EMP, chemical explosive and nuclear. I haven’t got the deep analysis of
the data back yet but it all looks fantastic, exactly like the simulations, exactly what we were expecting. No surprises. The level of protection afforded by an orbiting system is far superior to what we have on the ground. I’d say that we now have an exceptionally effective defensive system in place.”

  “Well, Dan, all I can say is thank you. And so quick! How do you do it?”

  “In this case, Charles, I did it mostly by stealing the designs from someone else, but what the hell. We’re covered. And I’ve got uniforms and weapons to Foveaux, too. The MSS actually looks like a military force now. We’re looking at getting battlefield artillery and armoured transports to them within the next couple of weeks. We have an army worthy of the name.”

  “We do, Dan. You’ve worked miracles, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “I’m just glad to have played a role,” said Kostovich. “These are historic times aren’t they? I’ve always fancied having my name in the history books.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get that,” said Venkdt.

  “Okay, good night then,” said Kostovich. “And remember, the reason you can sleep safely in your bed is because of people like me manning the barricades, forever looking into the dark night and protecting the citizens of Mars.”

  “You’re full of shit, Kostovich, good night to you too.”

  “I am full of shit, sir, goodnight.”

  Kostovich hung up, and found it difficult to wipe the smile off his face.

  Colleen Acevedo requested an urgent meeting with Andrews. In light of her previous work Andrews found time to meet with her.

 

‹ Prev