Eagle Station

Farrell grimaced. “It’s sure starting to sound like y’all are proposing a suicide mission. Just getting to the moon’s hard enough. Going up against a fully powered plasma gun at the end of the trip seems liable to be one step too far.”

Brad shook his head. “No one up here’s interested in turning kamikaze, Mr. President. For one thing, that enemy weapon, whatever it is, has to be based on the lunar surface. If the Russians and Chinese had a weapons platform orbiting the moon, we’d already have spotted it.”

“Which means their weapon’s effective range will be significantly restricted,” Kelleher realized.

“Yes, sir,” Brad agreed. “Plasma guns and combat-grade lasers are strictly line-of-sight weapons. They can’t shoot through mountains or crater rims, or at anything beyond their visual horizon. Worst case, a surface-deployed plasma gun will only have a range of around five hundred miles against a target in orbit.”

“So it can still shoot a lot farther than the laser on our spaceplane,” Martindale pointed out dryly. “That doesn’t sound too promising to me.”

To Brad’s surprise, Kelleher cut in to respond to this, sounding far more positive than he had at the beginning of the briefing. “Our S-29s have conducted a large number of practice engagements against Eagle Station’s plasma gun, Mr. Martindale. The evasive maneuvers my pilots have pioneered should give the crew of that spaceplane a fighting chance — even if they are outranged.”

“Yes, sir,” Brad said. “Which is why we’re confident this mission is doable, especially with an experienced crew at the controls.”

“So who do you have in mind for this little jaunt?” Farrell asked quietly.

“Boomer and I have the most actual flight and simulator time,” Brad replied. “So we should go.”

Beside him, Nadia muttered something angry-sounding under her breath in Polish. This was an argument she still wasn’t ready to admit she’d lost.

Abruptly, Kelleher stood up. “No, sir,” the Space Force general said flatly. “This isn’t a job for civilians.” Seeing their faces tighten, he held up his hand. “Lord knows, I respect the skill and courage you folks have shown in the past several years. But this mission rightly belongs to my pilots and mission specialists. Thanks to our training maneuvers, they have more practical experience than anyone else when it comes to flying against the kinds of Russian and Chinese weapons you’re talking about.”

Behind him, the uniformed Space Force pilots and crewmen nodded their agreement.

Kelleher turned to Farrell. “The United States has invested a lot of money and other resources to stand up the Space Force, Mr. President. And with respect, it’s time you committed us to active service against our nation’s enemies.”

Slowly, Farrell nodded. “I think you’re right about that, General.” He looked over at Brad and the others. “Y’all have put your lives on the line for the U.S. and our allies again and again. Usually when there wasn’t anyone else with the guts or brains needed to take on the fight. But that’s not the case here. It’s time for the regular armed forces to step into the breach.”

Brad’s jaw tightened. “Sir, I—”

Farrell shook his head. “My mind’s made up, Major McLanahan.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s just barely possible that the Chinese and Russians might hesitate to fire on a Space Force S-29 and risk a wider conflict with this country. They’d have no such hesitation in firing on a spacecraft flown by folks they’ve called mercenaries and space pirates.”

Nadia frowned. “That is a very thin reed to cling to, Mr. President,” she warned.

“I know it,” Farrell said evenly. His face was somber. “But given all the other risks involved in this lunar recon mission, I figure we should play every last card we can.”

Thirty-Six

Command Center, Central Military Commission of the People’s Republic of China, Beijing

Several Days Later

President Li Jun looked up from a sheaf of reports when General Chen Haifeng came in. Silently, he motioned for his aides to withdraw and then politely gestured to a place across the table. “Be seated, General.”

Chen did as he was told. The general looked thinner, worn down by the months of unremitting work involved in managing China’s part of Operation Heaven’s Thunder. In any given week, he was either out at the Xichang and Wenchang space complexes to supervise launch preparations, or he was in Russia, coordinating with Leonov and his staff. Today he had just returned from Moscow.

“You have news from our ally?” Li asked.

Chen nodded. “Leonov shared his country’s most recent intelligence with me.”

“And?”

“It confirms our own reports from the Ministry of State Security,” Chen told him. “The Americans have pulled one of their armed spaceplanes off active duty. From what we can tell, it landed at the Sky Masters facility in Nevada. One of the Sky Masters — owned unarmed S-29s has also dropped out of sight.”

Li frowned. “For what purpose? Routine maintenance? Or something more?”