Eagle Station

“We don’t know, Comrade President,” Chen admitted. “The entire Sky Masters complex is under strict security measures — with a reinforced guard detail that apparently includes three CID combat robots. Neither our agents nor those of the Russian GRU have been able to get anywhere near the perimeter.”

Li pondered that. From all reports, the piloted war machines were terrifyingly effective. But they were also extremely expensive, with only a handful in existence. He doubted the Americans would have committed so many CIDs to a passive security role without good cause. Whatever was going on in Nevada, they were determined to keep it secret. “Anything else?”

“A commercial SpaceX Falcon Heavy launch slated for two weeks from now has just been scrubbed,” Chen said.

Li raised an eyebrow. “And why is that significant?”

“Because it was scrubbed by direct order from the White House, on national security grounds,” Chen told him. “Instead, the Americans want the rocket on standby to lift another payload into orbit.”

“What kind of payload?” Li demanded.

Apologetically, Chen shrugged his shoulders. “Neither the Russians nor our own people have been able to find out. All we know is that, whatever this secret payload is, it was flown to the Kennedy Space Center in Florida aboard a Sky Masters — owned cargo aircraft — with another Scion combat robot along as an escort.”

“Sky Masters and Scion again,” Li said with a scowl.

“Yes, Comrade President.”

“Do you or Marshal Leonov have any theories about what the Americans are planning?”

Somewhat hesitantly, Chen nodded. “It’s possible that they are readying a retaliatory strike against one or more of our space launch complexes, using a combination of their spaceplanes and some type of new orbital weapons. Without any real ability to act offensively on or around the moon, the Americans may see this as their only real option. Serious damage to Plesetsk, Vostochny, Wenchang, or Xichang would make it difficult to keep Korolev Base operational.”

Li nodded his understanding. Periodic shipments of food, spare parts, and other consumables were necessary to sustain the cosmonauts and taikonauts stationed at the lunar base — and to keep their sophisticated sensors and other hardware running in an airless environment marked by wild temperature swings and high radiation. He pinned Chen with a cold-eyed gaze. “In your military judgment, could such an attack succeed?” he snapped.

“Our defenses around each site are very strong,” Chen replied. But his uncertain tone belied those confident words.

Again, Li nodded. All four space complexes were ringed by networks of powerful phased-array radars and regiments of advanced S-500 surface-to-air missiles. S-500s were very long-ranged and they were designed to engage and destroy ballistic missiles and even spacecraft attacking at hypersonic speeds. On paper, any enemy S-29 raid should be doomed to failure. Unfortunately, both he and Chen were only too aware of previous American victories achieved in the face of what seemed like overwhelming odds.

He reached out and picked up a phone. “This is the president. Arrange a secure satellite link to Moscow at once.” While waiting, he looked across the table at Chen. “I have no intention of waiting for the Americans to unleash their planned counterstroke. Before they move, Marshal Leonov and I will make it very clear to President Farrell that an attack on any Chinese or Russian space launch complex will be treated as an existential strategic threat by both our governments.”

Chen’s eyes widened. “One that would trigger an immediate nuclear response?”

Li nodded gravely. “Exactly so. Somehow I do not believe that even this Texas cowboy will risk the destruction of San Francisco or Dallas or New York for so small a prospective gain.”

The White House, Washington, D.C.

A Short Time Later

Tight-lipped with anger, President Farrell took the printout of the “joint communiqué” sent by Moscow and Beijing and fed it unceremoniously into the classified materials shredder next to his desk. As it whirred into oblivion, he turned to Kevin Martindale and Patrick McLanahan. “I guess it’s nice to know those bastards are starting to feel a little nervous.”

Martindale smiled. “And that they’re looking in completely the wrong direction.” From the beginning, their own tactical analysis had shown that any spaceplane attack on Sino-Russian launch sites would be a pointless disaster. Learning that their enemies feared the possibility enough to threaten nuclear war offered a useful window into their mind-set.

“That won’t last long,” Patrick cautioned. “As soon as we launch our S-29s and other mission components into orbit, the Chinese and Russians will start putting the pieces together. And there’s no way we can hide any translunar injection burns. So any cosmonauts and taikonauts stationed on the moon’s far side will have days of warning about what’s headed their way.”