by Ted Halstead
Rooter winced. Now he remembered Wade had told him he was taking his long-time girlfriend on a shopping and dining trip to Santa Barbara, a pretty seaside town well known for having plenty of places to do both.
It was rare for Wade to take a day off. And heavens knew Wade worked hard enough to deserve one, boss or no. Ordinarily, Rooter would have apologized and hung up as soon as Wade reminded him he wasn't in the office.
But Rooter didn't hesitate.
"Boss, I need you at Vandenberg as soon as you can get here," Rooter said.
There was a long pause. "You can't tell me why I suppose," came Wade's resigned voice.
"No, boss," Rooter replied. "Not over an open line."
"OK," Wade said. "An hour or so," he said, and the line went dead.
By the time Wade walked into the command center, Rooter had the fourth satellite's optical sensor directed towards the attack he expected any minute.
Sure enough, Wade only had time to ask, "So, what's the problem…" when a bloom of bright white light from the nearby monitor announced the destruction of the fourth satellite.
Rooter pointed at the monitor and said, "Someone's destroying our satellites. That's the fourth. I think they're using a laser. And I think it's the Chinese."
Wade looked around the command center, which would typically have had many other staff at work on various tasks.
Wade and Rooter were the only ones present.
"I gave everyone else the day off," Rooter said evenly.
Wade nodded. "Good thinking. It makes it easier for us to talk about this. So, tell me why you think it's the Chinese."
After Rooter had finished his explanation, Wade sat silently for a few moments, clearly thinking over what he'd just heard.
Then, Wade nodded sharply. "You're right. It's the only way to account for the satellites' destruction that fits the facts. So, what can we do about it?"
Rooter smiled and answered with a question of his own. "Remember I told you we needed to enhance the thrusters on the satellites and switch from ones consuming krypton gas to xenon?"
Wade frowned. "I do. I remember approving the request because you said they might need more power to avoid other satellites successfully."
"Right, and I meant that," Rooter said. "But I had another agenda, too. I didn't talk about it then because I was thinking about a scenario like this. I was worried you might refuse my request as paranoid."
Wade pointed at the digital display, showing four dull red dots representing satellites no longer communicating with the Command Center. Or anyone else.
"Well, now the threat couldn't be clearer," Wade said.
"And I propose we take direct action to combat it," Rooter said as he typed rapidly.
The image on the digital display shifted to show the stars blocked out across much of the screen. Part of the SpaceLink satellite was also visible.
Rooter kept typing. Now the image occupied just half of the display.
After more typing, Rooter had a very similar image on the other half of the screen. Yet, it was immediately clear they were not the same image.
"These are images from just before the laser struck two of our satellites. You can see the images are similar. It's not a coincidence. I think the Chinese weapon had to approach the satellites exactly this way because of the sun visor, which would reduce its laser's effectiveness. They'd either have to circle to the rear of each target satellite, which would take a lot of time and fuel, or do this. The visor has a gap where we have the main antenna sending the Internet signal," Rooter said.
"I think I see what you mean. So, we know exactly which way they're coming," Wade said.
"Right. And as soon as we spot the weapon, we go to meet them. At our satellite's top speed," Rooter said with a tight smile.
Wade sat back. "I sure see why you wanted me here for this one. If I take this over to the Combined Space Operations Center, they'll buck it up to the Pentagon, and they'll ask the White House. By the time we get an answer, we won't have a satellite left anywhere near China."
The Combined Space Operations Center (CSpOC) was practically walking distance from SpaceLink's Command Center at Vandenberg. With responsibility for command and control of all American military activities in space, an attack like this was exactly the sort of threat CSpOC had been created to address.
Rooter nodded. "I couldn't agree more, sir. This is self-defense, plain and simple. But if we're going to try to limit our losses to just one more satellite, I need your decision now. That weapon's moving fast."
Wade sat still, thinking hard. But for less than a minute.
Then he looked up at Rooter.
"Do it," he said simply.
Rooter walked over to the next console, where only a few keystrokes revealed an image like the ones on the other monitor. But this one covered the entire screen, and all the stars were clear.
So far.
"I wouldn't mind another pair of eyes, sir. Anything passes in front of those stars, sing out," Rooter said tensely.
Wade nodded and said, "Got it."
"Some time in the next ten minutes. I haven't had time to calculate the weapon's speed more precisely than that," Rooter said.
"Understood. Are we sure there's just one weapon?" Wade asked, his eyes still on the screen.
Rooter's gaze involuntarily shifted from the screen. "I sure hope not," he said.
"Well, the track of satellites the weapon attacked can certainly be accounted for by a single attacker. If you hadn't been here, it's probably all they would have needed," Wade said.
Rooter shrugged. "Well, a lot's going to depend on who's operating this weapon. If they're quick enough to react, they may be able to avoid a collision. And ramming is the only weapon we've got."
The next minutes crawled by.
Finally, Wade was the first one to spot something. "There," he said, pointing at the right edge of the screen. "It looks like it's sliding over towards the middle of the display."
Rooter nodded. "And if it moves as fast as it did the other times, it won't take long to reach firing position."
But Rooter just stood there.
Wade looked at Rooter, confused. "Shouldn't you get our satellite moving?"
Rooter shook his head, his gaze still fixed on the display. "I've got to let him get closer. So he won't have time to change course. We're only going to get one chance at this."
It felt like forever, but a glance at the bottom of the screen told Wade it had been less than a minute when Rooter pressed a switch on the console.
Then Rooter sat down in the chair in front of the display and leaned forward.
Wade was about to say something, but Rooter's smile stopped him.
"That thing's exactly where I thought it would be. I'd already programmed the course and maximum speed. The hard part I did before you got here, disabling the automatic collision system," Rooter said.
"Right, the system we had to install to avoid colliding with other satellites in orbit. How long before we know…" Wade started to ask.
This time the bright light from the monitor flared on and off so quickly both men had the same thought.
If we'd blinked, we might have missed it.
"Well, that was sure different than last time," Wade said. "What do you think it means?"
Rooter shrugged. "If I had to guess, I think they fired the laser just before our satellite struck their weapon. Either way, we've lost all contact with the fifth satellite."
"So, how can we find out whether we destroyed or disabled the Chinese weapon?" Wade asked.
Rooter pointed at the monitor displaying the orbital positions of all SpaceLink satellites. Now there were five glowing a dull red.
"It's simple. Sometime in the next hour, another one of these lights will change from green to red. Or it won't," Rooter said.
He was typing while he spoke. The monitor that had been displaying the optical feed from the fifth satellite now showed an image from another one.
"
This is from the sixth target satellite, assuming the weapon survived and continues on its current course. Since there have to be limits to the weapon's fuel, I think staying on course is a given. So, we both go back to looking for darkness covering the stars," Rooter said.
Wade nodded. "But this time, they'll know what to expect."
"Right. So, they might shoot from further away if they have the power. Or circle our rear if they have the fuel. Either way, we've lost the advantage of surprise."
"But, it'll take them at least half an hour to get to the next target, right?" Wade asked.
"Yes. Probably a bit longer, even if they increase their speed," Rooter replied.
"Good," Wade said, looking away from the screen and pulling out his phone.
And then he stopped.
Who was he going to call, and what was he going to tell them?
Chapter Seventeen
Wenchang Satellite Launch Center
Hainan Island, China
General Yang Mingren looked up at the main display screen dominating the Mission Command and Control Center's front. It was scattered with green circles, representing the SpaceLink satellites targeted in today's operation.
There were also four red symbols, each with a line drawn through them. All had been confirmed to have ceased transmitting after the new laser weapon had attacked them.
So far, everything had gone perfectly. They were right on schedule. Yes, it would still take many more hours to destroy the remaining targeted satellites.
But they were going to succeed with this mission.
Yang smiled to himself. Who was he trying to convince, anyway?
Long experience, though, had taught him that disaster usually struck when skies were clear. Not when you had seen the thunderclouds gather and were well prepared.
Now Yang had to suppress a grin at his own expense. Could any thought have marked him more clearly as a pilot?
Yang returned his focus to the small monitor directly in front of him, which would shortly show the weapon's approach to the fifth targeted satellite.
Yes, Yang and the officers he was working with had important plans, and accomplishing this mission played an essential part in their success.
Success gave its architect credibility. And Yang needed President Lin to believe every word he said.
"Approaching the fifth target," the lead technician announced.
Yang settled back to watch the show. It had gone just as planned the first four times, and no matter what his nerves said, there was no reason to believe this time would be any different.
At first, it wasn't.
But after a few minutes, Yang could see the lead technician talking with another one and pointing at his monitor.
"Report!" Yang said.
"Sir, I don't understand this," the lead technician said. "The target is moving."
Yang scowled. "We discussed this. Did you keep out of range of the target's automatic collision system?"
"Yes, sir," the technician said hurriedly. "But it's not trying to avoid us."
"What do you mean? What is it doing?" Yang asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Sir, it's coming straight at the weapon at a speed it shouldn't be able to reach, and I can't change course in time to avoid a collision," the technician said.
For a horrified instant, Yang couldn't believe what he was hearing.
Then he had several thoughts in quick succession.
One of the Americans has figured out what we're doing.
What we thought we knew about the American satellites is either wrong or out of date.
A weapon in space with only one engine can't make sharp turns.
Aloud, he said just two words.
"Fire now!" Yang bellowed.
The technician did so immediately, and one of the green symbols on the main display was quickly replaced by a red one, as the satellite ceased transmitting.
Yang started to breathe again. "Status of the weapon?" he asked.
"We have lost contact with the weapon, sir," the technician said.
"I don't understand," Yang said. "How could you miss from that range?"
"I didn't, sir," the technician said sullenly. "But shorting out the satellite's electronic systems or even disabling its thrusters couldn't prevent the collision. They deliberately waited until we were too close to miss. By the time we detected the target's movement, it was already too late."
He paused and then added, "That's why I didn't fire earlier. It wouldn't have mattered."
Yang ground his teeth in frustration.
The laser weapon had been coated in materials designed to absorb every wavelength of light. Every attempt to discover it through radar or lidar should have failed as well. Not that a communications satellite should have carried either.
So how had the Americans not only detected the weapon but been able to target it for collision?
Yang shook his head. Right now, it didn't matter.
The cost of a SpaceLink satellite was publicly quoted as about two hundred fifty thousand American dollars. Yang had destroyed five of them, so well under two million dollars in total.
Yang didn't know exactly how much the laser weapon had cost to develop and deploy.
But he knew it was more. A lot more.
There would be no way to report this as anything but the failure it was.
But Yang wasn't finished yet.
No, he had one more card to play. And this time, a single worthy target.
Qinshan Nuclear Power Plant
One Hundred Kilometers South of Shanghai, China
Qinshan Senior Manager Tan jerked his head up with surprise as Plant Complex Director Wu appeared behind him.
Tan had left strict instructions to his staff to warn him whenever Wu came to the plant. Tan sighed as he realized Wu must have told everyone at the plant not to let him know of his arrival.
Since Wu outranked Tan, of course, they would follow his orders.
Against all expectations, though, Wu was…smiling.
"Good morning," Wu said cheerfully. "Please, let's take another walk outside. I have a few questions for you."
Tan nodded as he quickly pulled on his plant-issued windbreaker. Since Wu's last visit, he always kept it handy.
Wu wasted no time walking up to the pallets of burlap bags that had been delivered the previous day, that were now stacked up against the concrete containment vessel protecting the reactor.
While he walked beside Wu, Tan looked at the water lapping around them on three sides and shivered. Only partly from the cold. How could he have looked at the sea all around him for so many years, and failed to spot the danger?
Wu patted the closest pallet and then pointed at the nearby piles of sand. Each pile was covered with blue plastic sheets, which were secured to the ground with multiple metal stakes.
"It looks like you have here two of the key ingredients for sandbags. Bags and sand. But what about labor? If a storm threatens the plant, our staff will be busy securing the reactor and will have no time to fill these bags," Wu said.
Tan nodded. "I thought about that. I've spoken with the warden at a prison not far from here. He will supply workers to fill our sandbags whenever I ask."
Wu looked skeptical. "Really? We have no authority over the warden. Why should he help and risk the escape of his prisoners?"
"At first, he refused," Tan replied. "Then I pointed out that if disaster befalls this plant, the radioactive contamination that would be released might reach his prison very quickly. Probably too quickly to allow the evacuation of his prisoners and staff."
"Not to mention his evacuation," Wu said, nodding. "Well, you did nothing but tell the truth. So, how were you able to get all this so quickly?"
Wu's arm swept around the dozens of pallets of bags and vast piles of sand.
Tan smiled. It was an impressive sight, after all. And it was nice to see someone else appreciate it.
"Burlap bags and sand are surprisingly cheap, especially when
ordered in quantity. It took my entire discretionary budget for items like official travel and a small amount of my personal funds, but I was able to make it happen. I checked a long-range weather forecast a few days ago, and there is a typhoon brewing that might head this way. So, I decided better safe than sorry," Tan said.
Wu's next action surprised Tan.
He bowed. And to a depth showing genuine respect.
"Well done, Tan. I'm sure you know as well as I do that if we get a real monster storm like the one in 1985, sandbags won't be enough to save the plant. But they should give us enough time to do a safe shutdown and avoid a total disaster like Fukushima," Wu said.
Tan recovered from his surprise rapidly enough to politely return Wu's bow. "Thank you, sir. I also appreciate your quick approval of my increased request for next year's budget. If Beijing provides the funds we're requesting, then we could do a proper job of making this plant typhoon-proof."
Wu nodded. "I am already researching other vulnerable plants and have contacted several other plant managers for information. You remember the damage storms did to the Three Gorges hydropower plant in 2020?"
Tan nodded. "Yes, sir. It does seem that so-called once a century storms are becoming more common."
Wu smiled thinly. "Yes. Ironic that hydropower and nuclear power plants, which have done nothing to contribute to climate change, seem destined to become its first victims."
Then Wu's smile changed and became genuine as he patted Tan on the shoulder. "Well, at least with good men like you on our side, we still have a fighting chance. Let's get inside out of this cold."
Tan hurried after Wu towards the plant's entrance door, while the wind picked up as if to hurry him along. Shivering, Tan looked back at the storm supplies he'd managed to assemble.
He couldn't help asking himself the same question that always seemed to be his last thought before he tried to sleep.
Would it be enough?
Chapter Eighteen
Russian Embassy
Washington, DC
Boris Kharlov looked up as Neda Rhahbar walked into the conference room they'd been using to prepare for their mission. He was about to ask Neda why she looked so tense when the answer walked in behind her.